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Sex Ed	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 39683 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I don't own the characters, the ideas, or the books. I just like to imagine in JK's world for a bit. I am not making a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
Producing chapters like they're going out of style! Waymay proofed this for me, so she deserves all the thanks! 3 I hope, LightofEvolution, your plot bunny still makes you pleased. :) Everyone will have to trust me over the next couple of chapters. K? K. :)
~A.
So I may be lonely
Without you in my head
All I ever wanted
Was to be a different man
But I still make her cry
I love to make her cry
"I Still Make Her Cry" by The Strumbellas
"Consent." Hermione looked outwards at the crowd of fourth-years, seriousness etched in her tone. Draco stood by her side, eyes forward, jaw clenched. "What does it mean to give someone consent? Does it simply mean someone saying the word 'yes'? If they're not in their right mind, is consent still able to be given? Where does one draw the line?"
There was no projector in which to display charts or diagrams. Instead, she gestured outwards, to the cardboard signs situated in front of each and every student. On one side, the word 'yes' was written, and on the other, in bold lettering, 'NO'.
"As you grow up, you're going to find the lines blurred a time or two, and you're going to wonder where to draw the line. Respecting another's boundaries is the key to any healthy relationship, sexual or otherwise. But, since this is a sexual education classroom, I believe you can figure out why we're here today. So, I'd like everyone to reach out, pick up your sign, and point the yes out towards your classmates." The students did so, some reluctantly sharing awkward glances with each other. "Great. Now, Professor Malfoy and I are going to offer out some questions. I want you to answer honestly, if you think consent can be given in these situations."
Draco cleared his throat and read off the first question. "If someone says they are not comfortable with taking things any further than kissing, is consent given to continue?"
The classroom lit up in a sigh of relieved giggles. One by one, the students turned their signs to 'NO.'
"Well, that was easy," said Tabitha from Slytherin.
"You think so?" Draco smirked, calling her out in front of the class. "Well, in that case, perhaps you'd be so kind as to answer our second question. -If someone says yes, and then decides during the act that they wish not to continue, is consent still given?"
Tabitha furrowed her brows. "I don't think so…"
"But," said Gregory from Gryffindor, "If they say yes, they mean it, don't they?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Hermione smiled, though the subject did not make her happy. This was her least favorite part, but one of the most important ones, in Sex Ed. "Does anyone have the right to decide for someone when they're ready for anything? Relationships should be treated like a Healer's visit."
Lidia Cornelia raised her hand. "Meaning, the Healer and the patient must both give consent before treatment?"
"Precisely. -Or," Hermione offered, "Think of it as a dance. Maybe you started to dance but decided that you'd like to go back to the table instead. No one has the right to force you to dance, even if you've done it a thousand times. And no one gets to decide who your partner is, or even if you decide you want one at all."
"So, let's try this again." Draco peered over the bundle of students. "If someone is intoxicated, but says yes, is it consent?"
Some turned their signs to yes, others to no. There were glances this way and that, as if looking at one another might stir up an appropriate answer. Finally, someone raised their hand- it just so happened to be Liam.
"This is one of those blurred lines you were speaking of, because when you're intoxicated, you're not allowed to ride a broomstick. If you're that wasted, you shouldn't be hopping into bed with someone."
"Fair point," said Tabitha, standing up from her own table, "But what if the person legitimately wants the intimacy? My parents have done it loads of times while drunk off their rocker."
Hermione had to hold it in not to laugh -Draco outright did it without pause.
He threw his hand up, stifling himself. "But your parents are two consenting adults who have been with each other for quite some time, and know their limitations. They can trust each other to make a fair assessment -that is, after all, why they're married, I presume. Trust."
Hermione wondered if Draco's parents trusted each other the way he described. It was hard to picture Lucius Malfoy as anything but cold and calloused. But perhaps, deep down inside, he was a softy like Draco? Sure. And pigs could fly without the help of a levitation charm… What would Draco be like? As a husband? Not that she wanted to marry any time soon, and not that she wanted to marry Draco (she told herself that was absurd.) But she couldn't help but wonder what kind of a man he would make. Despite everything, she did recognize that day, at the end of the War, the way Lucius and Narcissa held each other on the battlefield. As if their lives were in each other's arms, and only extended by Draco. Hermione was lucky to have a set of parents equally as loving, though hardly as manipulative.
"The point Professor Malfoy and I make is this; if you have to question if consent is given freely, then it isn't, and you should act accordingly." Hermione shuffled through her paperwork, feeling her face flush with heat. This was the worst of the lesson, she reminded herself. Best to get it over with quickly. "Which… leads us into the discussion of rape."
The Great Hall fell silent at once, and most of the students placed their signs back down on the table.
"When consent isn't given, the act that follows, whether it be enjoyable for both parties or not, is rape. Let me repeat that -just because someone's body responds to physical stimulation does not mean it is consent."
A redheaded Ravenclaw by the name of Gillespie Turnboot raised her hand. "Professor Granger, aren't there different acts of foreplay where people say no but mean yes?" She blushed as scarlet as her hair, but continued. "I… might have read some fanfiction…"
"Fanfiction?" Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Muggle internet stories. Things you wouldn't have any interest in," Hermione interjected quickly, "But what Miss Turnboot says brings up another point: how can you tell when someone is playing a role and when they mean it?" She waited for the responses, which came timidly.
"Saying it more than once."
"Crying."
"Stating that they are not playing a game."
"If they kick you in the nads."
"All valid points," Hermione nodded. "Showing physical signs of distress is, ultimately, the greatest tell. And should be met with the appropriate response; ceasing your actions immediately. I don't speak only to the boys when I say this. I also mean the girls."
She thought back to her days in Hogwarts, when Lavender Brown would drag Ron down any given corridor to slip her hands down his pants. Later in life, in the privacy of their own bedroom, Ron had admitted that he didn't like it when Lavender did those things. But he didn't know how to get her to stop, and he said he felt silly telling anyone about it. Hermione made it her mission, since then, to always make sure men understood both sides; they could be forced into sexual acts just as well as the women. And it was okay to say 'NO.'
"One of my very dear friends was forced into sexual acts because he was afraid to say no to the girl. Woman are just as capable of making the same mistakes that men do. Understanding, and respecting, boundaries is the only way to break the cycle. -And this doesn't just apply to men with women and women with men. This also includes same sex coupling as well. No one has the right to tell you what to do with your body except you."
"Or your heart," Draco said suddenly, startling them both. They exchanged shy glances with each other before blushing and turning away.
"Right," she agreed, "Or your heart." A smile crept its way up her lips, and she felt a tug at her heartstrings. "No one has the right to tell you who you can date. As long as both parties are consenting, and legalities in order, there should be no reason why you can't-" her mind hesitated for a split second, but the word fell out anyways, "-love who you want to. Taking a stand, in the face of all odds, is most certainly the bravest thing one can do. It is why my friend Harry is so popular." She gave the class a wink.
"She just had to mention him," Draco quipped, and the classroom lit to life in laughter.
"Be thankful he isn't here right now. He'd be blushing as red as a tomato."
After class, Liam strolled up to the Professors, wiping his hands on the sides of his robes as if they were clammy. "Professors." He nodded to them both.
"Hello, Liam," Hermione greeted kindly, "What can we do for you?"
"Erm. Well, just Professor Malfoy, I'm afraid." He ran his fingers through his tresses and sighed, glancing at the Potions professor nervously. "You know that charity event your family's got going on next week?"
"Yes," Draco said icily, as if the thought sickened him.
"My Dad wrote to me telling me I had to attend. Something about wanting to look good for the Sacred Twenty-Eight? I don't even know what that is."
"A tired, pureblood tradition," Hermione jostled under her breath, loud enough for Draco to hear. He rolled his eyes at her, then turned them on Liam.
"What's your point, Killingsworth?"
"He asked me to ask you if I could travel with you? Since you'll be going as well."
"I see. And does this have anything to do with him thinking it will make the Killingsworths look good in the eyes of the Twenty-Eight if you were to arrive with me?"
"Something like that." Liam expelled a breath, eyebrows contorted into a mix of agitation and annoyance. "I'm not too keen on it, but he says he's already asked your Father, and…"
"Sure," Draco nodded, as if he understood, and placed a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Overbearing fathers can be a pain in the arse, hmm?"
"Yessir," Liam chuckled, eyes widening at the word 'arse'. "Are… are you allowed to speak that way to a student?"
"Right now, you're not my student. You're my tag-along." Draco smirked. "Do make sure to dress in something nice, won't you? I refuse to bring you with me if you dress in anything less than appropriate for a socialite function."
"My Mum's already getting my robes tailored," Liam grinned ear-to-ear.
Hermione, as she gathered her paperwork, wondered what it must be like to be them; two boys, raised by traditional upbringing, always expected to be prim, proper, and up for the task of socialization. It was amazing that Draco was so intelligent, considering his mind had been stuffed with which fork was for what food and how to glide gracefully across the room without bouncing. All that fodder seemed worthless in lieu of higher education. Her parents never cared much for if she crossed her ankles at a table as long as she received good grades and brushed her teeth after every meal.
As Liam trotted happily away towards Lidia, who waited for him by the doorway, Hermione stuffed her paperwork in her satchel and said, "So, it's next week, then? The fundraiser?"
"Next Saturday. Didn't I tell you?"
"No." She could feel her eyebrows pinch together, but tried to play it off like she'd gotten a papercut instead of being extremely irritated. She put her thumb to her mouth as if she'd cut her finger open, but really she bit down on it to keep from screaming. "You didn't."
"Ah. Well. No time like the present, no?" He smirked.
"No." She glared. "So, you've spoken with your parents, then, I presume?"
"Yes. That's typically how one of these fundraisers is crafted- through the unyielding current that is my mother's resolve to make the Malfoys still appear relevant."
"And did you discuss anything else while on the path to fulfil your agreement with Neville?" Her voice rose an octave as she strained for self-control.
Draco raised an eyebrow, not getting the picture. "You mean flower arrangements? Or the band? I suggested she try to reunite the Weird Sisters for an encore performance…"
"Oh, for heaven's -US, Draco. I meant us!"
"Oh." He blinked. "No, I haven't spoken to them about that yet."
"Oh?" She mocked him. "That's what you have to say? Oh?"
"Come on, Hermione. Don't be that way."
"What way, Draco? You mean irritated? Because you've spoken to your parents recently but still haven't come clean that you're sleeping with a muggleborn? Or perhaps you mean hurt? Because you've had nearly a month to do it, and you promised you would?"
"I said soon," he said in a hushed voice.
"When will soon be? Another month? Six months? A year?"
"Not that long."
"But I'm just supposed to sit around and wait for it to happen? To trust you that it will?"
"Of course you're supposed to trust me," he snapped, allowing the tension to grip his sharp features. "Isn't that what makes up a relationship? Trust?"
"How can I trust you if your actions don't follow your words?"
"They will, Hermione." He crossed his arms. "But I don't see you opening your heart up to your family, either. Do they even know I exist?"
Hermione had been waiting for this moment, and like a student prepared for a pop quiz, she grinned twistedly. "Actually, they do. They heard about you for years. All the times you made me cry, or tripped me in the halls. Or when you enlarged my teeth." She set her shoulders and balled her hands. "But they also know that I work with you, and that we're seeing each other."
"Really?" He didn't sound convinced. "Since when?"
"I wrote to them after we made it official. I was so excited that I barely could contain myself." Her hands began to shake, and she took in a deep breath to calm her nerves. "My father wasn't too happy at first, but my Mum was ecstatic."
"Really…" His eyes widened, and he uncrossed his arms. "Really?" He tapped his finger to his chin, bewildered. "Really?"
"Yes, Draco. Really."
"You just -what? Up and told them? Just like that?"
"Yes. Because that's what normal people do when they're not ashamed of being with someone."
"You think I'm ashamed?"
Hermione slipped her hands into her robes pockets, running her fingertips along the diamond cufflinks she carried around with her on most days. They were there to remind her of Draco's promise to show her off. But he hadn't done that, had he? He'd kept her a secret to his family, and that was just as bad as these cufflinks being tucked away in her pocket. "I know you are." Swallowing hard, she pulled the cufflinks out and slipped them into his hand.
He glanced down, and hurt spread across his face. "Hermione…"
"When you're ready to show me off like a pair of those, I'll be waiting." She felt the first tears spill down her cheeks, and she turned her back to the Great Hall to keep from allowing any remaining students to see her cry. "Until then, I think it's best if you have those back."
"Are you breaking up with me?" He asked quietly.
"Is that what you'd like me to do?"
"I don't want it, no." His voice quivered. "I want us to be together."
"Then you know what choice you have to make." She glanced to him, putting on her best smile, though the tears still leaked down her face. "I won't force you to tell them. Consent, remember? I won't be the person that tells you how to live your life, or what to do. And I won't end us because of it. I just… Maybe I just need a little space, is all."
She made to move away, and Draco reached out, fingers resting on her arm but not grabbing hold. She stopped to look at him.
"Hermione." He looked down at the cufflinks in his hands, and then up to her. "It's not that I don't want to tell them. I do. But you don't know my father the way I do. I'm not afraid of what they'll think. I'm afraid of how they'll act once they know. They might decide to scrub the charity event all together. And while I think Longbottom is an obnoxious twat, that doesn't mean that his parents should suffer because of it."
Hermione's heart jumped, and she stepped back into his personal space. "You actually care about the donation?"
"Given time to look into it, I think the cause is justified. Using a Slytherin tactic against a Slytherin is why Longbottom pissed me off, but I get it now. Why he did it." He tore his eyes away from her, embarrassed. "The Longbottoms are a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, so it's how I got my father to agree to donate to St. Mungo's. But if he knew about us before then, he'd make it a point to donate the money to some 'worthier' cause to get back at me for defying tradition."
"That's… that's horrible."
"That's Lucius Malfoy." Draco shrugged. "Please. Just give me a while longer. I promised you whatever you wanted. But you're going to have to trust in me to do the right thing, when the timing is right." His eyes flickered up to hers and searched for forgiveness. "Please." He offered out the cufflinks between them, but Hermione shook her head.
"Keep them." She curled his fingers around them, closing his hand. "Give them back to me when you've fulfilled your promise. I trust you." She leaned up, kissed his cheek, and gave a sad smile as she walked away, refusing to look back at him should she dare cry herself into a puddle of tears. She managed to make it to her dormitory before collapsing onto her bed and sobbing.
It wasn't as if she could ask him to come out to his parents now, what with the charity event so close. And with the Weasley's get together only a week out itself, she had no reason to be so bossy. Maybe it was because she wanted so desperately to tell him she loved him. Maybe that's what had driven her to be so sad at hearing his lack of honesty with his family. How could she pour her heart out to someone who couldn't be himself to the ones it mattered most?
"I'm such a hypocrite," she said, burying her face into her pillow. "I can't even tell Ron, and I expect him to be honest to his family? Stupid, Hermione. Really stupid." She swiped at her tears. "Now I've gone and mucked it all up again. Why did I give those back? Why?" She reached over to a tissue box near her bed, plucked out three tissues, and blew into them all at once. "I shouldn't have said anything." But she knew, no matter how hard she wished it, she couldn't take the words back. They were out there, floating between them, and she'd have to deal with the consequences, whichever way the wind blew.
Draco found himself working late into the evening, pouring himself over freshly-graded essays to avoid the stinging fact that his cufflinks had been returned to him and now sat idly atop his desk like two of Hermione's glistening teardrops. The image of her crying in the Great Hall burned into his corneas, and he feared he might never get rid of the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of letting her down. Again.
"Stupid, Draco. Seriously, you're the most idiotic man on the face of the planet," he mumbled to himself, resting his forehead on top of Lidia Cornelia's excessive six foot essay on Wolfsbane. Over and over again, he nodded his head into the desk, trying to shake him from his underlined guilt. "You're such a fucking coward. You can't even tell Hermione you love her, let alone tell your parents about her. Fuck."
He raised his head and scooped up the cufflinks to study them. He remembered the first time he had worn these cufflinks; it was at his grandfather's funeral in his sixth year. Abraxas Malfoy had willed them to Draco, and his mother had forced him to wear them not even three days after his grandfather's passing. It had felt perverse to him then, wearing a dead man's jewelry, but his Father had pulled him aside after the funeral to explain that it was an honor to show off the heirloom.
'It means, Draco, that you're proud of where you've come from. You are proud to be his grandson, no?'
'Of course,' Draco had said at once, not wanting to disappoint his father, though the crippling weight of losing someone so precious still made his head swim with pain, 'I loved him.'
'Then you show those off. Let them represent your love for him. It's what he would have wanted.'
It meant so much to him when he left these with Hermione, as if he could finally share his heart with someone else. And to have her give them back meant he failed her.
There was a knock at the door, and Draco clenched his hand tight as Neville Longbottom strolled in, still dressed in his work attire, though his tie hung loosely around his throat. "Mind if I come in?"
"Looks like you already have," Draco sneered, opening up the top drawer of his desk to slide the cufflinks in. Stowing them away, he jerked his eyes up to Neville and gave him the largest glower he could manage. "I'm not really in the mood for company, Longbottom, so make it snappy."
"I've just come to reel in the favor you owe me," Neville said, taking a seat atop one of the workbenches in front of Draco's desk. "You know. For helping you with Sex Ed."
"Oh. That." Draco narrowed his eyes. "Can't it wait? I'm a bit busy with the fundraiser and grading these practice exams for NEWTS and…" And his heart hurt. It literally hurt in his chest right now, thinking about Hermione and those damned cufflinks. "Seriously, Longbottom. I don't have the time."
"Well, make time, then," said Neville, crossing his arms. "I need a confidence potion by next Saturday."
"Confidence potion?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "What ever for? Aren't you just oozing with it?" The sarcasm was not missed by Neville, who rolled his eyes in response.
"For the Weasley get-together." Oh yes. The events were held on the same day, weren't they? "You told me to figure out how to play it off like Hermione and I are together, and the only way I know how to do that is to be more like you. You know: arrogant."
"You mean poised."
"I mean self-assured." Neville threw up his pointer finger. "I can't very well lie to my friends without some confidence. And I'm awful at making Potions. Especially such a complex one. So, that's my favor."
"And you have no ulterior motives?" Draco snorted a laugh. "I find that hard to believe."
"Believe what you wish, but you agreed to make me a Potion. Whatever I wanted."
"I've told you, I haven't time."
"Well, find the time then. Because it's the only way I'm going to sell it."
Draco snarled under his breath, thoroughly put off. Not one to go gently into that goodnight, he perched his face in a heinous smirk and offered, "Come on, Longbottom. Wouldn't you rather have one of those alteration potions? I'm sure the ladies would find you slightly less grotesque if you didn't have such a large forehead."
"I have no idea what she sees in you," Neville retorted, but did not give in to the taunt. "I'll pick it up next Friday evening? Sound good to you?"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
"Great." Neville hopped off of the table and left without another word.
Draco made sure the door shut before he opened up the drawer in his desk and stared down at the cufflinks. 'I have no idea what she sees in me either, at this point.'
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