As usual, I don't own the Potter universe, or any of the characters, Ms. J.K. Rowling does. She's nice enough to let us play in her sandbox. This shortie takes place at Hogwarts, in the future. HP-TNG! Non-canon.

The Talk

The fifth-year student found himself surrounded in a suddenly empty corridor. Somehow, the four male students managed to convey the impression of a large group of angry men; the worst kind, calm angry men.

"Our dad," one of them started. "He's a decent guy. Quiet. Does a lot of work with charities. Kills people."

"Umm. Ahh."

"Hasn't killed anyone in years. Malfoy was the last. Tried to curse our mom. Really brassed off our dad."

"We," another boy said, "aren't. Decent guys, I mean. You're dating one of our sisters."

"Umm. Yeah."

"She comes home crying, Dad'll kill you," the third stated flatly. "Your problem is, however, that she's at Hogwarts."

"She cries, you bleed," finished the fourth brother. "That's if we get to you first."

"After you finish bleeding," the second brother explained, "we'll fix you up."

"Then," the first one said, "we're going to give you to our sisters. Because we're not nice people."

"The other side is worse," said the second youngest. "We don't get to you first, grandmum does. Absolutely nothing will save you, nobody will lift a finger to help. Or stop her." The brothers all smiled beatifically at that thought. "Grandmum will at least make it fast. Horrific, but fast."

"I get the message, guys. I'll break up tonight."

"Then she'll cry. You don't want her to cry, because she'll cry on our sisters' shoulders. That would be very bad."

By now, the fifth year was past ashen. "Wh ... w ... what can I do?" he stammered.

"Simple," the eldest brother said. "You make her happy. You do whatever she wants. If she wants rumpy-pumpy, you make her delirious with pleasure. If she says 'no,' then whatever you're doing or thinking of doing, you stop. You. Make. Our. Sister. Happy."

"Or else. You won't like else," said the youngest of the four. "Oh. We never talked with you. Especially if our sister asks."

"Can't do that, Fred. You're telling him to lie to her." The oldest looked thoughtful. "If she asks, don't lie. Don't lie about anything with her." He clapped the fifth-year on his shoulder. "You can talk with us and ask questions, kid. We'll tell you what we can."

The fifth year nodded. "Okay. I understand."

"Oh, yeah," the second-oldest said. "Forgot."

"Hunh?"

"If our little sister wants rumpy-pumpy, don't get her pregnant. If you do, you better hope grandmum finds out first. Because if granddad finds out ... let's just say you'll be better off with grandmum. People are still scared of him."

"Your granddad? Arthur Weasley?" came the credulous response.

"Yeh, kid. Also known within a very select circle as 'The Breaker.' "

"Oh, FUCK."

"Sucks to be you, kiddo. Ta."