A/N: I really enjoyed writing this story the first time around years ago, but after reading it again I felt like the story line wasn't given justice due to the really poor writing! So, as a result, I have attempted to rewrite it in a more acceptable manner, although I probably failed at that, too. :) Anyway, enjoy the rewritten version!
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Idea from tomo.
Ron stared in shock at the small first year that was stood in front of him with a pencil and a bit of parchment in his hands.
Ron faltered. He couldn't believe that the boy had just asked him! He thought about what had just happened in a futile attempt to understand.
There he was, sitting as innocent as an angel in the common room, doing his History of Magic homework like the dutiful student he was. In the midst of writing an essay on goblin rebellions, he was interrupted by a young boy—nay, a mere child—who said in with a bubbly, unassuming tone,
"Can I ask you a question? For my homework? You see, I have to ask you because you're older than me, and well, I have to ask if you know, you know? I'm Michael, by the way…" he babbled shamelessly. Ron squinted, confused as to where this little troll had come from and why he had chosen Ron as the victim of the meaningless tirade.
"Find someone else, munchkin, I'm very focused right now," Ron said irritated, gesturing to the table.
"Playing wizard's chess by yourself?" the cheeky little bugger had the decency to ask.
"Yes, and I was winning," Ron said, turning away from him and ordering his knight to move.
"Ah, won't you just listen to what he has to say?" the knight protested. It was then that the boy said,
"Thank you! Anyway, I need to know what exactly is—"
And Ron nearly fainted.
What was sex? Oh, bother. He was sure he couldn't do this on his own. How could he put this in a way that an eleven year could understand?
"It's sort of like… cooking," Ron said lamely, straightening up in the squashy arm chair and nodding sagely. The first year's eyes narrowed in suspicion at Ron's analogy.
"Cooking? Like… making soup?" the boy provided.
"Yeah!" Ron said, pleased with his ability to make the child understand. "Absolutely, that's it."
He resumed his game.
"Er—is that all? I mean… how is it like cooking?" The scratching of his quill paused, waiting for Ron's answer.
"Well…" Ron struggled for the right words.
"It's like cooking because it needs to be heated, er… steamy. You know, hot." Ron explained, then cursed himself for saying, "you know" to the child. Of course an eleven year old didn't know.
"Er, right. It's… well, you need to know when to stop. Then you'll get… burnt. No man likes getting burnt, eh?" Ron chuckled, nudging the questioner with his elbow. The boy stared at him, no trace of amusement on his face. Ron cleared his throat nervously.
Whoever assigned this homework is a real old pervert. Honestly, asking a first year to find out what sex was? This is just messed up, Ron thought, disgusted.
"Er, say munchkin… what class is this for?"
"Potions," the child said casually as he wrote down what Ron said. "Professor Snape caught some Slytherin and Gryffindor going at it in a corridor. So he assigned us to ask somebody older than us about it."
"Oh," Ron said weakly. Professor Snape? Caught somebody "going at it"? I always suspected him to be an old pervert, but—Merlin. Ron could not help but assume that hell must have finally frozen over.
"He caught them goin' at it?" Ron repeated, unbelieving.
"Yes," the boy said exasperatedly. "Stupid gits. Doing it right in front of him, too… anyway, what were you saying?"
Ron wasn't delving into this any further. He had practically given him the exact definition of what "it" was when his father gave him the birds-and-the-bees talk! There wasn't any other way for Ron to put it.
"Where's 'Mione when you need her…" he murmured, scanning the room for help.
At that magical moment, Hermione rushed down the girls' staircase and headed towards Ron, fuming.
"Ron, do you know where Parvati went off to? She borrowed something of mine and never gave it back and I specifically needed it today but of course she pays no atten—"
"Hermione," Ron broke in desperately. "I don't know where Parvati is, but could you help me out here?"
Hermione paused, looking between Ron and the first year, who was glancing at Ron with confusion. Ron had clasped his hands together in a rather helpless way, and Hermione felt herself feeling sorry for the pair.
"Well, alright," Hermione conceded.
"Really," said the young boy, "I'm not sure I should've asked you about this…"
"You're right! That's why dear ol' Hermione is here. She'll tell you all about it!" he said enthusiastically, pushing Hermione forward towards the boy. She shot him a glare, and mouthed, "What?"
"He wants to know about… sex," Ron whispered quickly in her ear. He felt a red flush spreading onto his neck and ears. Hermione, however, seemed undaunted by the question and leaned down to the boy with a pitying smile.
"Aren't you much too young for this type of talk?"
"Oh, all right," Hermione said resignedly, shooting a glare at Ron. She cleared her through, and patted down her skirt.
"You see… it's when two people love each other dearly—mainly a woman and a man…"
"But he," the first year interrupted, pointing at Ron, "told me it was like cooking."
"Cooking?" Hermione gasped disbelievingly. "Cooking, Ron? You're telling a child that it's like cooking? What are you telling him? Go around school doing it?"
"No," said the boy said quickly, "I wouldn't do it around school."
"Oh, of course not," Hermione said with a sigh.
"Well, not around teachers, at least," he snickered.
Ron and Hermione stared in shock at the eleven year old boy in front of them.
Just then, the entrance swung open, and Harry climbed in, looking tired.
"'Lo 'Mione, Ron," Harry greeted gloomily, passing a hand over his eyes and sinking into the armchair next to them.
"Uh, Harry?," Hermione said quietly, her eyes still fixated on the puzzled first year who seemed to be inching backwards from their wide eyes.
"Yeah?" He responded, tucking away his wand and stretching his fingers with an irritated sigh. "Detention with Snape next week, going to be rough, I 'spose…"
"Why, what happened this time?" Ron asked, frowning at Harry.
Suddenly, the first year gasped loudly, "You're the one who did it in the hall with that Slytherin boy!"
Ron goggled at Harry. "You—Harrry! You did what with a Slytherin? Harry answer me!"
"Ron, c'mon, he was asking for it," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "You would've done the same thing."
"He?" Hermione asked faintly. "Harry… do you need to talk?"
"Please, I was provoked, Hermione. I had to do it!"
"No you didn't, mate!" Ron said, his eye twitching uncontrollably. "Nobody made you. You should've stopped. And in front of all those first years!"
Harry stared at his friends blankly.
"If it makes you feel better, it was lovely. Really great. Spectacular, in fact. Got him right in the groin with one."
Hermione sat down, her eyes furrowed in bewilderment as she ran a hand through her bushy hair. "Harry, are you feeling well? Do you need to talk to Dumbledore? Maybe you should talk to Dumbledore, he can fix this!"
"Hermione, I'm in enough trouble as it is," Harry said heatedly. "If it's really that big of a problem, I won't do it again, honestly."
Ron and Hermione looked doubtful. Ron opened and closed his mouth several times before finally settling on, "What?"
"Love-ly," someone murmured. All eyes focused on the first year as he scratched down onto the parchment. "Gr-oy-n."
He looked up at them and shrugged, rolling up his parchment.
"Thanks, I guess…" the boy said to the three, looking thoroughly confused. He turned on his heel and wandered off to another boy coming from a different student, a parchment clasped in his hand as well.
"Look what you did, Harry! You gave him a completely terrible idea of it!" Hermione scolded, looking as if she would collapse any second.
"As for what you did, mate…" Ron continued, red appearing on his ears with embarrassment.
Apart from the trio of students arguing, the tiny first year turned to his friend and recounted his interview with the sixth years. His friend looked baffled as he scanned the other boy's parchment. He looked up and scratched his head, perplexed.
"I dunno, mate, but I'm not exactly sure what cooking or love has to do with a hex."
Review if you liked it, review if you didn't! :) I'd love you forever. Thanks for reading!