a/n: To be honest, I have lost my mind. Hence, this is not really to be taken seriously. Enjoy!

Driving Lessons

"Slytherin means go, Gryffindor means no. Yes, Mister Malfoy?"

"What does the Hufflepuff mean, Professor?"

"It means you bloody well better speed up so I am not forced to sit in front of devastatingly long traffic lights while you fiddle with the radio knobs."

Severus Snape was not having a good day. How he had been roped into yet another ridiculous lesson plan that was not on the Potions syllabus was really beyond him. Okay, no, to be fair, he knew exactly who to blame for this mess. Again.

When the Headmaster had called him into his office Severus had entered tentatively. Previous to the war the Headmaster only called him up to discuss Order plans or Death Eater attacks, and the air had been covered like honey, all tension and unspoken prayer. Now, that Harry-bloody-Potter had offed the old tyrant, the only times the Headmaster called Severus up was to annoy him.

Under the guise of "bettering the school."

Severus wanted to tell him where he could better the school, how far, and without lubrication.

"My boy," started the Headmaster, "It has come to my attention that some of the students are interested in furthering their Muggle Studies coursework. They want real-life situations so that there can be a more seamless blend of cultures."

Severus had a feeling he knew what student was leading this particular interest. He frowned.

"Especially since the war was so founded on prejudices against Muggles, the students feel that enculturation is key towards establishing harmony."

Ah, yes, that sounded like someone he knew. He was going to ring her neck once he found her.

"Was it Miss Granger who put you up to this?"

"Why, Severus, it was in the interest of many students that this program be put into effect. And I have the perfect position for you," the headmaster said, eyes twinkling.

Oh dear circe, bloody hell, no no no.

Well there wasn't much he could do, because the headmaster was a crazy old sodding coot who did whatever the hell he pleased regardless of the fact that some members of staff didn't have the time or energy to do such things.

"But Severus!" the Headmaster had pleaded, sounding like a whiny two-year old instead of the hundred-fifty-something he was. "You're the only one who knows how to operate a motorized vehicle!"

The final battle had been something of a joke. The Order members and Aurors had painstakingly planned a very intricate battle, involving Gwarp and the centaurs and unicorns and even that dragon Norbert everyone had rather forgotten about. It was such a brilliant plan, meticulously drawn up even to the effect of when everyone should breathe and where they should exhale that pouch of air.

Of course Harry Potter never was one for plans if he could just go all in, wands blazing. So he had run up to the Dark Lord, screamed Avada Kedavra! And watched with a surprised grin when the dread lord just, literally, fell over dead.

"Damn," he said to the shocked onlookers. "That was surprisingly easy. Why didn't anyone think of this years ago?"

Hermione Granger just shrugged.

After that it had been a whirlwind of events. Severus had been pardoned when the Headmaster popped up, alive, and well, wearing a Hawaiian t-shirt and sipping a Mai Tai. He looked a bit sheepish, but chastised everyone for having put so much pressure on him that he couldn't take a much-needed vacation without faking his death very dramatically. Everyone was properly cowed and apologized.

At the after parties were a whirlwind of drunken debauchery to the extent that Severus could barely tell the difference between this and the Death Eater revels. Well, except that after the revels Severus was forced to listen to Lucius bitch about how the house elves didn't wash his socks properly, they always lost the pairs with the cute little snakes, and gosh darn, wasn't life a bit unfair? Oh, and let's not even go into the night precious Lucius found a split end amongst his glorious locks. Sometimes Severus still woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, the shrill scream echoing from his nightmare into waking life.

Considering, Severus felt he chose the right side. Even if Ronald Weasley looked like he might take his clothes off at any moment and start dancing the tango with Rosmerta. Let is be known that no Weasley, at any point in time in history, could dance.

He was surprised (and somewhat gratified since Ron was beginning to take off his pants) when he was accosted by Miss Granger, who was slightly inebriated, but not nearly enough for him to account for the words that came out of her mouth.

"I've been thinking."

"Surprise, surprise."

She ignored the sarcasm. "Let's cut the semantics and the games, shall we?" she paused, as if expecting an answer. Severus, unsure what she was talking about, merely stared. "I like you, you like me. It's very obvious. Instead of wasting precious time waiting for some divine intervention in the event of, say, a silly time turning accident or a hokey marriage law and the like, let's just rip off one another's clothes and shag one another silly. We don't have to do all the small talk and character development that way."

Severus was shocked, and rather gaped like a fish. "I don't like you," he said weakly, confused.

Apparently that didn't matter because a few minutes later she had backed him up against a wall in the upper rooms and was making fast work of his multitude of buttons. He discovered, that night, that he did somewhat like Miss Granger. When she made herself a permanent fixture in his life, taking up his favorite armchair, his side of the bed, and stealing his books when he wasn't looking, he was downright convinced he loved her.

But Merlin-damn, the woman just went too far this time.

When Severus had returned to his rooms, in a fit, he had glared daggers at the girl curled up in his favorite leather chair, reading his favorite leather-bound book. The girl, used to this, looked up only when she was done reading her sentence and frowned.

"I see he told you about the Drivers Ed idea," she said simply, her eyes turning back to the book.

"Yes," Severus hissed, his voice a deadly whisper. It become a purr when he was angry, and he was decidedly enraged at the moment. His voice was, well, a caress of needles, about to plunge at any moment. "He told me. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Hermione Granger sighed and rolled her eyes. "I promise to perform fellatio on you in the Drivers Ed car if you go along with it with only a modicum of complaint."

Huh. Well. That sounded pretty good. Severus recalled the moment Hermione had first performed that lovely act on his member. She had grinned up at him, cheeky little chit, and said, "Want to see how well I've learned my Charms, professor?"

Severus could only nod at he watched her pink little tongue poke out from between her pretty little lips. "Swish and flick," she said, naming the proper wand movements and then following up with her tongue. She laughed at the response. "See? Up it goes."

Who knew the Wingardium Leviosa charm was so damn kinky?

Needless to say, Severus was only slightly pissy for the rest of the night.

So that's why Severus was trying to explain the complexities and subtleties of driving a car to Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

Okay well he was going to explain the subtleties with a very long and enticing speech, ala first year potions speech, but Hermione had discovered a pair of red high heels that matched her Gryffindor-themed underwear and Severus had spent the night claiming her body, and mostly her underwear, property of Slytherin.

"You dunderheads bloody better not crash the bloody car or my wand will be shoved so far up your asses you'll be shitting incendio."

Yeah. That wasn't quite as compelling as he wanted it to be. He felt it carried the message, however, if Mister Weasley's horrified face was anything to judge by.

Ah yes, but back to the present.

Miss Granger was raising her hand. Ugh, why didn't she just give it up? They all knew she was the smartest. He knew better than to not call on her, however, as she had a nasty habit of not giving any on days when he ignored her.

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"Actually, sir, the yellow light means that you're supposed to slow down because the light will soon be changing red. If you are now past the halfway part of the intersection by the time the light changes an officer of the law can pull you over and give you a ticket."

Well la-di-da, Miss Granger.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," said Severus, flatly.

"Why are there no Ravenclaw-featured lights?" asked he-who-wouldn't-die-or-shutup-or-anything-useful.

"A Ravenclaw invented the traffic lights, didn't they?" This from Ron, who my have given the best answer of his life. Too bad it was in the form of a question.

"Yes, a man by the name of J.P. Knight," said Severus, off-handedly. "Now, Miss Granger will be first to drive. The rest of you three will sit in the back and not make any noise what-so-ever." Here he paused to glower. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Sir," from Draco now. Little sycophant.

When they were all settled in the back, Draco sitting behind the Hermione, Ronald behind Severus, and Harry sitting between them, Severus began instructing Hermione on proper seat-belt placement.

Harry turned to Draco. "Are those designer jeans?" he asked, sneering.

"Funny that you noticed, Potter. I didn't think your sort had the mentality to notice the spectacular hemming of this particular pair of trousers," said Draco, glaring.

"Oh, I noticed the hemming. Looks like something done in a third-world country by a bunch of underpaid slave-workers."

The car started forward with a lurch.

"I'll have you know, Potter, that each stitch in this denim was done by my personal assistant who used to work directly under Armani."

"Oh really, directly under, was he? Not the first time something related to the Malfoy's was directly under."

Draco crossed his well-toned arms across his chest and haughtily flipped his hair from his face. Of course this didn't do much, edge-ways, but it did cause his cascading blond tresses to fall charmingly back into place. Lucius and Draco had spent hours perfecting the move in front of a mirror and it wasn't lost on Harry.

"A Malfoy is always on top, Potter. You'd do well to remember that."

Draco was not expecting Harry to challenge him exactly at that moment, but challenge him he did. Harry threw off his safety belt and launched himself (not very far, their thighs had already been touching) on the white-haired boy. Yelling ensued.

"Professor Snape!" shouted Ron. "Draco is trying to kill Harry!"

"Bloody well someone ought to," said Snape, not really caring a lick as he fiddled with the radio, trying to find a classical station.

"You take that back!"

"No, you take what you said back!"


"I swear, you're worse than Lavender."

"AII! That's my hair you wanker! My glorious hair!"




"BOYS!" Hermione screeched without looking back. "You will stop manhandling one another THIS INSTANT. Do NOT make me turn this car around or you will be very, very sorry."

"But Hermione!" Silly Ron.

"I'm not upset. I'm just very, very disappointed."

All three boys righted themselves with alacrity. Severus, who was vaguely hoping that Hermione would have crashed the car and killed the back-seat members only, was stunned that the boys listened to her. He looked at her in askance.

"Guilt. Works every time."

Ah. Too bad he hadn't thought of that.

"Now Miss Granger, you will be coming to a round-a-bout soon. It's a bit trickier than anything you've driven previously."

Hermione looked at him rather pathetically. "Then why do I have to drive it?"

Severus frowned. "Because you're the only one who has a chance not to kill us all in a spectacular crash," he said with a meaningful look towards the back of the car. Hermione glanced at the boys, and, seeing Ron whimpering into his hands while Harry and Draco were nudging one another like horny five-year-olds, she articulated; "Oh."

Oh. Indeed. She stopped in front of the circular drive and looked each way.

Professor Snape was fiddling with the radio still. "Why are there no classical stations?" he groused, giving the knob a vicious twist as it if was its fault that it had not programmed the radio to play Straus and Bach and Stravinsky on cue. Unfortunately, a terrible, great but terrible, song came on.

"Is this what I think it is?" said Harry.

"Sounds like trash," said Draco, in a snit because Harry ripped a miniscule hole in his silk shirt. Damnit, now he had to change. Draco searched around in his jewel-encrusted messenger bag to find another shirt that matched his jeans, his hair, and his piercing blue eyes. Really, being Draco Malfoy was very hard. Hmm, fuchsia or lilac?

"Oh, I know this!" cried Ron, standing up in the car and hitting his head. This didn't deter him from screaming "HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME!"

Professor Snape suddenly wished they would all die a very terrible death. Right now.

"Oh Baby, baby, how was I supposed… to know?" sang Harry joyfully.

"Potter, which of these two shirts make my eyes stand out more?"

"IT WASN'T RIIIIGHT!" screamed Ron.

"They both look purple to me," said Harry.


"Honestly, Potter, you're a plebian when it comes to fashion."


Severus wondered if it was possible to choke himself to death.

Now, Hermione Granger had done a lot of crazy things in her life. She had helped Harry Potter through quite a few of his adventures, battled werewolves, death eaters, logic puzzles, evil plants, Draco Malfoy's dad on a bad hair day, and even bedded the formidable Professor Snape. Nothing had shaken her. Nothing had touched her sturdy will quite so much as driving a car in a circular fashion. Still, she was a Gryffindor, and in honor of that ancient house she dove right into the problem.

And in doing so almost came in intimate contact with another vehicle who decided that, apparently, circles were for losers and straight lines (ever so perfect in their binaries of good/evil without any moral grey-ity or middle ground) was the only way to drive.

"FUCK!" screamed Hermione at the top of her lungs, slamming on the brakes. Severus, with reflexes honed from years of spying and well, just being a Death Eater/Order Member in general, slammed on the brakes on his side oh the vehicle.

Malfoy screamed. It was a high pitched monstrosity that, well, was something unexpected from the son of a Death Eater. Harry grasped onto Draco and hugged him, thinking that well, if Malfoy was right about only the fashionable going to heaven, they'd have to let Harry in by default.

"HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME!" cried Ron, determined that this should be his dying mantra.

Luckily, the combined forces of both sides of the car grinding on the brakes was enough to stop the metal monster before any damage was done. The other car zipped by them, the driver raising his fingers in a rude V-symbol. Lousy chav.

"Miss Granger?" asked Severus, turning to her. "Are you all right?" It was good to know that even when faced with death Severus wasn't about to let go of his love of formality.

Hermione answered him by swearing as bad as a sailor and by the time she was finished every boy and man in the car had a spot of pink in their cheeks.

"Yowza," said Ron.

"Just… just keep going, Miss Granger. At the next available place to stop we'll switch drivers."

Hermione breathed in deeply. In… out…in…out. Yes. Calm. She didn't just almost kill most of the heroes (and Draco) of the second great wizarding war. Merlin, how embarrassing would that be. Sure, they'd all survived Voldemort but they met their unfortunate end when the know-it-all got behind the wheel.

Severus would never shut up about it, she knew. He'd be sneering at her in the afterlife, if there was one. Arrogant ponce.

They managed to quietly (and that was a feat) pull into a petrol station. Everyone breathed a little easier, except Hermione, who was panting with her eyes glazed over.

"Right," said Severus. "While we're here I'll show you dunderheads how to pump petrol, which is a necessary step for any motor-vehiclist."

"Malfoy's don't pump their own petrol!" cried Draco in horror. "The smell!" he wailed. "The smell! It never gets out of one's clothing! I can even smell it in Harry's hair!"

"What?" said Harry, and pulled one of his long locks up to his nose and sniffed. "I don't smell like Petrol, you wanker."

"You're probably used to the stench," sniffed Draco. "Isn't petrol the lifeblood of muggles?" he asked.

Everyone quieted, but whether it was from contemplation of the question itself or contemplation of the fact that Draco was aware of anything about muggles was left up to the individual.

"I have to use the loo," whined Ron, breaking everyone's concentration.

"Everyone out!" Snape yelled, and everyone, except Hermione whose hands were stuck to the steering wheel with fervor, scrambled from the car.

"Weasley, go use the loo. Malfoy, Potter, just go and pay for the petrol. I'll do the pumping with Miss Granger."

Luckily the students were either too dense or too polite to mention the double entendre'.

When the students had gone, Severus leaned into the open window of the driver's side. "Hermione," he said gently. "Just let go of the wheel. It's okay, you did fine. Really. An O for thinking on your feet, er, well, your lovely bum, rather."

Hermione looked up at him with a wild look in her eye. "The circle," she whispered in horror. "The circle."

Severus groaned. Another Motor-Vehicular Post Traumatic Stress Disorder victim.


"What is this beef jerky?" asked Malfoy, disdainfully pulling one out and holding it at arm's length. His nose curled in disdain.

"Exactly as you said. It's beef jerky," said Harry, grabbing a stick of his own and examining it. Hm, fifty five pence with only a fifty percent chance of it having been on the self longer than eighteen years. Not bad at all.

"What does one do with it?" asked Draco, whapping Harry in the face with it.

"Don't hit me in the face with your beef!" cried a scandalized Potter.

"If I had a galleon everytime I heard that one," said Draco to himself.

"Same here."

Potter blinked. Draco blinked. Each one then casually turned from one another and whistled in a totally inconspicuous way which in no way implied that either was the least bit homosexual.

Because everyone knows a British boarding school full of ungodly amounts of prepubescent demi-Adonis-like boys only puts out a single, rigorously heterosexual type.

That's believable.

Ron chose to run out of the loo at the moment looking as if he had seen one of those really large spiders again.

"I put my hand under this machine," he whimpered, completely ignoring that Harry and Draco were poking one another with their beefs. "And then it blew me."


"With air."


"Get in the bloody car," snapped Snape, looking positively pissed off as per usual. Hermione was safely ensconced in the shotgun seat. She had her arms folded and muttered something about the uselessness of cars and brooms when apparition existed.

"I thought we were all going to get a chance to drive," whined Harry.

"No. You're going to get in the car, make no unnecessary sounds, and we're going to go back to Hogwarts where the Headmaster can teach you how to drive if he honestly feels the need risk his own life teaching you dunderheads anything."


"Get. In. The. Vehicle."

When they got back Severus conveniently assigned Hermione a detention which she was to serve immediately and dragged her unresisting form away. Ron ran to go tell everyone of the wonders of the Muggle world, especially their blowing machines.

And Draco and Harry stared at one another in a blatantly frustrated away that everyone misinterpreted as simple house rivalry.