A/N: One of my favorite times of the week is 11pm on a Saturday. Why? Sex with Sue, of course! Sex with Sue is an informational talk show in which people call up and ask a very old lady questions that have to do with sex, and they're HYSTERICAL, because these people are so STUPID. So, a combination of this and the fact that I am going through a sex education course at school and the questions my peers ask boarder on the lines of those asked on Sue's show, I got to thinking; why not incorporate it? I do everything else. So, here we go. This fic will be pretty much pointless humor; a sidestep from my normal writing, but hell I'm itching to write it.

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Chapter One: The Curse of the Third Moon

Hermione was so bored and overcome with free time that she decided to do her Saturday night rounds a second time, just to make sure. As head girl, she was given a long list of responsibilities, for which she was thankful. Contrary to popular belief, she did not do all her homework weeks in advance; as much as she would have liked to, it was nearly impossible. There was no way she could know what the exact assignment was, or the next essay or quiz; most of the teachers didn't even make their lesson plans that far ahead.

So, with no homework to get ahead on and nothing for the day assigned, Hermione resigned to simply wander the corridors on her weekly route, snooping for meandering students. Harry and Ron had been out on the pitch every night until seconds before curfew, getting in as much practice in the twilight as possible before being caught. They'd become addicted. Hermione often wondered what they'd do if the pitch was suddenly closed for remodeling; she doubted study.

As she made her way down another deserted hallway, almost expecting tumbleweed to flutter by, Hermione sighed. Walking really wasn't much of an upgrade from sitting in the common room or reading in bed. She kicked her feet as she walked, scuffing the hallway and tainting the quiet. When the shuffling became too little to amuse her, Hermione turned to humming, making it successfully to the end of the hallway before spinning on a heel and starting to retrace her steps. Pausing to breathe, she was interrupted, and her ears perked at the sound. From somewhere close by, someone was giggling. Alert and sure to remain quiet, Hermione cautiously approached a nearby door, suspicious of possible occupants in the room beyond. The giggling sounded again, but was cut short, and a low hiss accompanied it. Now, Hermione was sure she'd missed some frisky teenagers, and drew her wand to quietly unlock the door.

She thrust the wooden slab open with a bang, startling the two students entangled in the lounge-like room. They were spread out on a delicate tapestry, draped over the floor, but jumped apart quickly at her entrance.

"Parvarti?" she asked, astounded, and the girl on the floor looked up in alarm. She recognized the intruder immediately and smiled sheepishly, waving.

"Hey, Hermione," Parvarti greeted, pulling up the sleeve of her unbuttoned shirt. Hermione, shaking her head, looked between the girl and her disheveled partner, who was staring in disbelief, breathing slightly labored.

"No; oh no, this is not happening. Parvarti, how could you? You know the rules; I'm going to have to tell McGonagall..."

"No!" chorused the criminals crouched on the floor. They turned their eyes to each other, lustful and nervous.

"Just... let me take care of it," Parvarti whispered to her boyfriend, then kissed him quickly before getting to her feet and walking toward Hermione, pulling her into the hall and away from the scene of the crime.

"I can't believe you! How could you be so irresponsible?" Hermione lectured, but her words were lost on her housemate.

"Hermione, please, just shove off," she pleaded. "I don't see how it's the schools business what I do. It's Justin's birthday; I promised him I'd, you know... make it a good one. Can't we just pretend you never found us?"

"No, we absolutely cannot! Rules are rules; I can't just LET you copulate in an empty classroom! Even if it weren't illegal, I'd still have my conscience if something happened to you," Hermione explained. "And it WOULD be the school's business if, god forbid, you came out pregnant!" Parvarti stared at her superior with wide eyes, listening wholly to her words. It was as Hermione finished that she burst into laughter.

"Oh, Hermione, don't be such a prude! I'm not going to get pregnant. I can't, not tonight."

"What do you mean you can't? Of course you can!"

"Don't be silly; there isn't a full moon tonight," Parvarti pointed out, crossing her arms and lifting her chin as if she'd proved Hermione an utter loon.

"What does that have to do with anything?" the Head Girl shouted in return, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "We're talking about procreation, not werewolves!" Parvarti dropped her arms and stared at Hermione, looking slightly confused.

"How can it be the third full moon of my cycle without there BEING a full moon?" she said by means of explanation, but her words fit no pieces into Hermione's puzzle of a brain.

"What?" she asked, anger and disbelief still tainting her volume. Parvarti now looked at the Head Girl as if she really WERE a mooncalf.

"Hermione, you can only get pregnant on the third full moon of your cycle; everyone knows that. I'm perfectly safe; Justin's a virgin too, we won't get sick. Please, just let us be?" she repeated, clasping her hands together and jutting her bottom lip. Hermione stood speechless, gaping at her friend. Parvarti continued to pout and plead until her captor was freed from shock and took her shoulders, shaking them.

"Are you out of your mind?" Hermione asked, emphasizing each word with jostle of a collarbone. "Who told you that?"

"It's common knowledge, Hermione... don't they teach you anything in the muggle world? I've known since I was... at least twelve."

"Parvarti! This logic makes no sense! Your cycle is 28 days; that's only enough time for ONE full moon, at the most. How could you ever be on your third?" Hermione pointed out, staring her roommate full in the face. Parvarti was speechless for a moment, contracting her mouth like a fish out of water.

"But... I..."

"Go back to the common room. You're on house arrest for three days; no leaving except for meals and class unless otherwise approved by me," Hermione dictated, releasing the student and placing her hands threateningly on her own hips. Parvarti spared a glance into the room she had previously occupied, where Justin was standing against the wall, watching the conversation without an inkling of what was being said.

"Can't I just say goodnight?" she asked, her walls of resistance all but crumbled. She was truthfully considering her captor's words; what if she were wrong? Hermione remained rigged and unblinking. "Please? It's his birthday..."

"I think you've given Justin more than a goodnight kiss. Go; you're lucky I'm not going to tell McGonagall," Hermione instructed, and Parvarti's eyes widened.

"You're not?"

"Not about what you were doing. I'll have to mention that you were out past curfew, but as to why... I'll let it go this one time," she granted reluctantly. Parvarti threw her arms around Hermione.

"Oh, thank you!" she cheered before blowing a kiss to Justin and scampering off. Hermione lifted a hand into the air, beckoning her remaining perpetrator with a curled index finger. Guiltily, Justin walked forward.

"Hey, Hermione," he said sheepishly, eyes trained on his shoes. Hermione remained professional.

"Happy birthday, Justin," she granted and his cheeks burned red.

"Not so much anymore, no," he admitted, voice low. Hermione dropped her rigid posture, feeling slightly guilty.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "It's for your own good, you know." Justin nodded sadly, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. Hermione sighed. "I have to tell Professor Flitwick; as Head Girl and a member of another house, it's my duty to..."

"Inform my head of house, I know. Can I go? Please? This isn't much above mortifying for me, you know," Justin broke in impatiently, cheeks glowing.

"Well, if you'd listen to me, you know that I plan only to punish you for being out past curfew and not for... your other antics," Hermione stated smugly, smirking, and Justin looked up, surprised.

"Really?" he asked and she verified with a nod. "Thank you, Hermione. My mother would kill me." Hermione smiled, but they lapsed into silence.

"Go on, now; I don't want to have to escort you," she said, prompting Justin to scurry off. With a sigh and a head heavy from a nights work done, Hermione locked the classroom door and returned to the common room.

Hermione entered the Gryffindor sanctuary and looked around the room for her best friends; both of whom should have returned from the pitch nearly half an hour ago. There were only a few students littered about the room and none seemed to be the famous Harry Potter or his hot-tempered best friend. Deciding that her newly acquired information could not wait to be analyzed, Hermione approached one of the seventh year boys.

"Neville?" she asked softly, hating to disturb the almost-quiet of the common room. Neville looked up in alarm from his place in an armchair; he was reading an assigned text, but his eyes were glazed over, as if he couldn't understand a word decoded. "Have Harry and Ron come back yet?" Neville knitted his eyebrows and turned his gaze to the floor, concentrating on remembering. All at once, his face lit up.

"Actually, they just came in," he informed. "They're probably upstairs changing." Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"I hate to bother you, Neville, but I'd really like to talk with them; do you think you could go and ask them to come back down?" she asked, batting her eyelashes tastefully, stroking Neville's sense of good will.

"Sure, Hermione," he agreed, shifting to get up from the chair and marking the page in his book. "I should be getting on to bed anyway."

"Thank you, Neville. Good night."

Hermione waited patiently, leaning against the back of a couch, as Neville disappeared up the boys' staircase. She watched a group of exhausted looking first years try to stay awake over their textbooks, cramming for an exam they saw as crucial, but was no doubt petty. Hermione smiled at them; she'd been the same way; innocent in her naivety. It was then that she remembered the reason she needed to speak with Harry and Ron, and turned to watch the staircase eagerly.

Her friends descended together, hesitant and slightly nervous. Hermione shook her head at them as she pushed from the sofa, crossing her arms and looking condescending. They approached her shamefacedly, heads bowed.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said, coming up to her a meter in front of Ron. Hermione smirked slightly; his 'caught with a cookie' face reminded her distinctly of one Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Look, I know we're a little late, but..." he started and Ron stepped up, cutting him off.

"We thought, since it's Saturday, it'd be wicked to get that new move down and really smoke Hufflepuff at tomorrows match. Harry said you'd- oaf," he explained, but Harry jabbed his friend in the ribs upon realization that he was blowing their cover.

"What Ron MEANS to say," he said, emphasizing his point and glaring at Ron, who grinned sheepishly. "Is that we went out early and lost track of time. Isn't that right, Ron?"

"Erm, yeah; yeah, that's what I meant, exactly," he agreed, nodding fervently. Hermione raised an eyebrow, hips cocked and arms crossed. She fancied them both with a disbelieving stare, letting them boil in the tense quiet while she played off their fears.

"You both know I don't believe a word you're saying, don't you?" she asked, sounding amused, and the faces of both boys fell. They stared at her with puppy-dog eyes and pouting lips, hoping their charm would get them a free scrape with the law. Hermione laughed. "Don't worry, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. You're off the hook, for tonight." Surprised and relieved, both boys grinned, sharing a look before turning their attention to Hermione.

"Sure thing; what can we do for you?" Harry asked, as always a gentleman.

"I'm conducting an experiment," she explained. "I need your help." At once, the short lived relief of the boys melted, and they seemed more panicked than when being scolded for breaking curfew.

"This isn't going to be like the toad kissing one, is it?" Ron asked, face turning a bit green. "I kissed more frogs than I ate slugs."

"Ron, please," Hermione said, exasperated. "That was second year; I was twelve. Get over it."

"What is it, then, Hermione?" Harry asked, anxious to be rid of her torment. Hermione smiled.

"Aw, come on, boys; am I really all that bad?"

Harry and Ron shared a look, but decided against answering. Hermione laughed airily and rolled her eyes.

"All right, all right; love you too," she grumbled, then readied herself for the big question, choosing her words carefully. "This is a hypothetical situation," she began, remaining professional and making eye contact with both boys before moving on. They again shared a nervous look. "Harry, for you, I am Cho Chang." At Harry's obvious joy, she reminded him, "Hypothetically. Ron, for you, I'm..." she paused for a moment, thinking, then shrugged. "Wonder Witch." Ron's eyes glazed over.

"I'm liking this experiment," Ron commented, looking eager, his ears turning slightly inward as he listened.

"Quiet, muggle, or I'll have to use my... impartiality shackles!" Hermione scolded, using her best Wonder Witch voice and posing as if for propaganda. Ron swooned.

"Let's get on with this before we need a drool cup," Harry suggested, laughing lightly at his friend. Hermione, grinning nodded.

"All right, all right; you both know your assignments?" she asked and they nodded in unison. "Good. Now, say I want to have a one night stand. What do you say?"

"Bloody, hell! What kind of a question is that?" Harry burst out, going red to the tips of his ears, but Ron leaned against the couch for support; she'd just recited his fantasy.

"I'd say... bring your shackles."

"Ron!" Harry cursed, looking around the room as if make sure no one had heard the conversation. All but one of the first years was now either tucked in bed or had fallen asleep on their texts, and no one else was paying much attention.

"Harry, just answer the question," Hermione beseeched. "Remember, it's Cho; not me."

"I don't... I think... no. No, of course not," he assured, rather hesitantly, shaking his head. Ron was staring as if he'd had three heads.

"CHO CHANG, Harry! Think about it!" he said, amazed.

"It doesn't work if you LIE, Harry. This is all in the name of science," Hermione reminded him, and Harry sighed, checking the room again for anyone with their nose too close to his business.

"All right, I would. Of course I would. You'd have to be queer not to. And even then..."

"Okay, Harry, we get it," Hermione interrupted, laughing. "Next question; I want to do it tonight. It's a full moon. Any objections?" Ron promptly shook his head, but Harry was again hesitant.

"What does the lunar standpoint have to do with anything? Are we outside? Wouldn't it be cold?"

"Harry," Hermione and Ron scolded in unison, both becoming impatient. He held up his hands in defense.

"All right; no, no objections."

"Good," Hermione chided, then attentively held out her hands, as if testing the waters. "What if I mentioned that there had been two full moons since... since my last rag?" Ron and Harry tensed in unison. Their calm and relaxed demeanors shattered and they stood like tin soldiers. Hermione sighed softly. "Objections?"

"Are you insane, Hermione?" Harry asked, always the logical one. "Of COURSE I don't want to impregnate Cho Chang! We're seventeen!" Hermione dropped her head into her hands, groaning. With one last sprig of hope, she looked to Ron Weasley... and knew it was lost cause.

"Ron?" she asked, seeing nothing to lose by asking his opinion. He looked thoughtful, and a bit more relaxed.

"Well," he started. "My initial reaction was 'Hell no', but I'd have to think about it. I mean, I'd be flaming famous! The father of Wonder Witch's heir! Oh, and it'd be a good looking kid too..."

"Ron!" Harry admonished. "What are you saying? Think of the responsibility."

"What responsibility? She's Wonder Witch, Harry; she could threaten to shackle the best care providers in all' England. It'd be great."

"End of experiment. Data acquired, mission complete. Go to bed before I give you detention for breaking curfew," Hermione dictated, holding her thumbs to her temples. Had the whole world gone mad? She needed to have a serious talk with Professor Dumbledore.

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After getting very little sleep worrying about her peers, Hermione rose in the morning with a mission. She readied herself for breakfast and pranced down to the great hall, mind focused. After allowing herself a window of a quarter hour with which to consume two pieces of toast and a boiled egg, Hermione planned to approach the Headmaster with her thoughts on her late night discoveries. While she was eating, however, the sheer conspiracy of Parvarti's ideas became known to her.

"So," asked Padma Patil, who had squeezed her Ravenclaw persona between two feasting Gryffindor, as to speak with her sister. "How was your night, Parv?" she asked, hinting, and Hermione kept an ear open for the other girl's response.

"Uneventful... and yet enlightening," she said softly, voice hushed over her cornflakes and cream. Padma lifted an eyebrow.

"But I though you and Justin were supposed to..." she started, but Parvarti shushed her. She shifted her eyes to Hermione, who was doing a very good job of pretending to be interested in a completely different conversation, occurring between Harry and Ron.

"I got caught," she whispered. Padma gasped.

"Really? By whom?" she asked.

"Hermione."

"Oh," Padma said with a sigh. Parvarti frowned deeply, again shifting her eyes to the Head Girl. "It could have been worse," she tried to encourage. "It could have been Snape." Parvarti shuddered.

"Not making me feel better. The thing is... she said something."

"Well, of course she did. She's Hermione, and Head Girl to boot. You'd have a better chance of being struck by lightning than having her let you off the hook. It's just her way; she's a stickler for the rules."

"No," Parvarti corrected. "She said something else. Padma, have you ever had your third moon?" Padma looked surprised for a moment, then shrugged.

"I don't really keep track unless I'm planning an innuendo. I must have; why?"

"Hermione said it's impossible."

"What?" Padma asked, confused. "How can it be impossible? If it were, no one would get pregnant, and we wouldn't have people!"

"That's what I thought... but you know, I've never really... HAD mine. It's just, never happened. In fact, I've never had a second moon," Parvarti shared, prodding her soggy cornflakes. Padma laughed.

"Are you wondering if she's right? Of course she isn't; she can't be. Everyone knows about the third moon."

"But she's Hermione. When was the last time she was wrong?" Parvarti pointed out, looking up at her sister with wondering eyes. Padma's smile faltered.

"What do you want to do; ask Madam Pomfrey? Oi, Madam... can I get pregnant if it's not my third moon?" she mocked, then laughed. "She'll think you've gone mad." Parvarti nodded.

"I guess you're right. It just got me wondering."

"Well, pay attention to your next rag, then, won't you? You're so naïve. I'm going back to my breakfast... and my boyfriend," Padma said before getting up from the bench and stalking back to the Ravenclaw table, now sparsely occupied as students began to filter out and enjoy their last day free of classes. Parvarti left soon after her sister, leaving the Great Hall without eating much of anything by means of breakfast. Hermione stayed behind, rethinking her talk with Dumbledore. Exactly how many people believed in this 'third moon' nonsense? She needed to conduct more tests. Where better to start than her partner in crime; her comrade in conduct; the all-influential Head Boy?

Where was Malfoy when you needed him?

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A/N: I know; I told you it'd be weird. For those of you who have read my other work, you probably think Draco and Hermione are going to get together. Frankly, I don't know yet. This story isn't going to be a mushy romance, I'll tell you that. It's just an idea that struck me, and I ran with it. Those who've read it find it interesting.

I re-uploaded this because there were some errors. I'd like to point out that these errors were my computer/fanfiction.net's fault. I'm not an idiot, I know

***-x- -x- -x- in the sibility."pinion. new it was lost cause.

Harry asked, always the logical one. "alm and relaxed demeanors shattered and they stood like tin soldiers. Hermione sighed sof***

Isn't at all grammatical. You'd have to have dyslexia and turrets syndrome to have something like that come out of your fingers, and god knows what to believe it makes sense. So all of you who said "You need to proof read. You have some serious mistakes" Please take no offense why I call you complete idiots. I'm sorry, but I do proofread. Repeatedly. And one thing that pisses me off the absolute most is when people tell me to do something I've already done. Beach can tell you that. And, I'd like to point out, that if you thought that was a mismark of my fingers, you're an idiot. Didn't you notice that all of that had been already said? Honestly, people. I think we need to be a little more observant.