*Shriek!* *scream* *babble* *yelp* *stampede*

*sigh* "Okay, Strife, you know damn good and well you shouldn't just appear in the girls' shower room."

"Oops?"

"Oops, my butt. I noticed that you managed to wait till the senior girls were showering," Scribe scolded.

"Hey, I'm no pervert. I pretty much just look since I got tagetha with Cupie..."

"Crap."

Scribe, a little surprised, turned toward the new voice. So, the room hadn't been completely deserted when Strife popped in. "Prunella Podunski, I'm going to tell your mother on you if you don't get your towel up to a decent level, right now."

Prunella patted her hair. "Mum works under the name of Whip-It-Off Wanda in the East End. As long as I have something to tuck bills in, she won't mind."

Strife cackled. "Gotta love family business. Track it on out, toots. I want some private time with Scribe."

Prunella pouted. "You could go somewhere else."

"Ya know who Sinead O'Connor is?"

"Oh, yes."

"Ya like her?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Wanna look like ya go ta tha same hairstylist?"

"Bye." She left.

"Now, then," said Strife. "Care ta tell me why yer showerin inna bathin suit that even Annette Funnicello woulda found smotherin?" He polished his nails on his leather. "Is it because ya know me?"

"Partly. But let me just say four words--Fred and George Weasley."

"Oo!" Strife's eyes popped open wide, his hair got even spikier, and he bounced up and down several times. "Damn, I got a charge just from the mention of those two!"

"Not that I'm not happy to see you--you make life... interesting--but why are you here."

"Mischief?"

"I mean now--specifically. Is chocolate syrup about to come out of the showers, or something?"

"Do ya realize that ya probably just spawned plot bunnies fah a lot of people with that mental image?"

"I know my job. Answer the question."

"Like I said--mischief. I got tha sense that there's gonna be a shit load around here any minute now."

"Hm..."

*Pink flash* "Hi, sweeties."

Scribe covered her eyes with her hand. "The Goddess of Passion and Love in a boarding school of repressed adolescents, who are the focus of countless slash and het smutfests. I hope I can find a gas mask, because the musk and pheromones are going to reach choking levels soon."

Aphrodite smiled. "You're such a flatterer."

Scribe was thinking. "Wait a minute--God of Mischief, Goddess of Passion--both here at the same time..."

Hermione came in. She stared at the two Greek divinities. Aphrodite winked. Strife did, too, but threw in pointed lip-licking. "Uh... Scribe? Professor Snape wants you. He says he has something to show you."

Scribe looked at Strife and Dite. They grinned at her. "Uh-huh."

Snape stood in the hallway. HE was outwardly as calm as ever--inwardly was another story. His mind was working a mile a minute, going over last details. *Thorough shower--check. Deodorant--check. I certainly hope that Red Zone nonsense one of the Muggle students left in the shower room works, or I may have to pay a visit to the manufacturer. Teeth brushed and mouthwash used--check. Shampoo and conditioner--where Hogsmead Hair Couture gets off charging those prices, I'll never know. With their rates you'd think that the less they cut off, the more they charged. Well, if it helps, it will be well worth it. Damn, I haven't so looked forward to getting in a woman's knickers since my senior year when I had that mad crush on the Life Magic teacher. I suppose it was only natural, given that she was the one responsible for teaching us the earthier aspects of wizarding life.* He smirked slightly. *Lucky me that she decided to give me private tutoring.*

Scribe came out into the hall, followed closely by Hermione. Actually, she had a firm grip on the younger girl's elbow. "You had something to show me?"

"Yes." He gestured. "Granger, you can go now."

Scribe tightened her grip. "Oh, no. After having both Mischief and Passion show up, this girl is staying attached to my hip till I figure out exactly what is going on."

"Granger--go."

"Hermione, you can try. Maybe you'll leave, but I'll keep the arm."

"I have control of your Potions grade, Granger."

"I have the ear of the God of Mischief. I can put you on Strife's life-long list."

Hermione groaned. "Now I understand what people mean about stress at school."

Severus gritted his teeth. "You are without a doubt one of the most frustrating women I've ever known, and I don't know why I'm bothering."

Scribe cocked an eyebrow, and smiled at him. "Yes, you do."

He stared at her. "Yes, I do. Bring her if you must. Come along."

They started off down the hall. "What is it you want to show me, she asked innocently."

"You do have the oddest way of expressing yourself--and that would be telling."

They took several sets of stairs. After the second, Scribe said, "Pardon me for saying this, it probably shows shocking naivete, but haven't we already gone higher than should be possible unless we're in one of the towers?" Snape looked at her. "Right--magical architecture."

Hermione was looking around, wide-eyed. "I've been going here several years, and I thought I was no slouch at exploring, but I've never seen this section before."

"And you shan't again, unless you are in the company of staff. You don't think we tell you everything, do you?" Snape replied. They'd come to a heavy, iron-banded door. Snape pulled out a heavy, old fashioned, black iron key and unlocked the door. The door creaked open to show the interior of a tower.

Scribe sighed. "More stairs. Joy."

"Occasionally," drawled Snape, eyeing her, "you have to work for something you really want."

"Why do I feel like things keep whizzing over my hear?" Hermione complained.

They climbed the spiraling staircase, going around the inside of the tower. At the narrow top landing, they were confronted by another heavy door. Scribe was panting. She wheezed, barely managing to say, "I... *pant* I'm not *pant* gonna be *gasp* able *gaspwheeze* to talk *gasp* for hours. *pant*"

Snape unlocked the door, and stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "We'll see." They stepped into the room.

On the other side of a bare room, Scribe saw a plain desk/table, and on that desk/table was...

*deep breath* "Aaaa-iiiiieeeeee!"

Hermione gaped. "I thought you weren't going to be able to speak above a whisper for hours."

"I was wrong!" She clutched at her chest. "Ohmygawdit'sacomputer!"

"With," said Snape, "a modem, and an internet hook-up."

Scribe's mouth hung open for a moment. Then she spun on her heel and toppled backward. Luckily Snape was quick, so he caught her. She gazed up at him with limpid eyes. "Take me."

He blinked. "This worked better than I expected."

"You can go now, Hermione," Scribe murmured.

"Um--no. I don't think so," said Hermione. They both stared at her. There was a little baring of teeth. "Look, my Mom had a talk with me about there might come a time when my hormones might encourage me to do something that my good sense would tell me not to do, and if I ever found myself in that situation I should immediately surround myself with people. Scribe, I think you've hit that situation. A friend wouldn't desert you."

"Look, friend..." said Scribe in a strained voice. Ron and Harry came in. "Has anyone ever told you people that you have lousy timing?"

Snape put a hand over his eyes. "Lord, we'll have the whole bloody school up here in a minute."

*Flash*

"Maybe just the seniors. The others are a bit young for sexual education visual aides."

"Dite!" Scribe yelped. "Did you direct them up here?"

"Sweetie," Dite laid a hand over her bosom, "they're adolescent males. They don't need my help to sniff out the possibility of sex."

Ron looked at Harry. "Are women going to discuss us like we aren't in the same room all our lives?"

Scribe smirked at him. "This isn't how we discuss you when you aren't here, hon."

Harry. "How do you discuss us when we aren't here?"

"How do you guys discuss us when we aren't with you?"

Ron's eyes got wide. "Crikey."

"What are you two doing up here?"

Harry pointed at Hermione. Snape glowered at her. "I believe I requested that you remain mute about this."

Hermione shrugged. "Actually it was more of a threat than a request. I couldn't help it. My entire time at Hogwarts I've felt just a tiny bit out of the loop. Well, we've finally got something that I'll know more about than anyone else here." She glanced at Harry. "Unless you...?

"Not bloody likely," said Harry. "Yeah, the Dursley's got a computer, though believe me, it was a struggle to get Uncle Vernon to agree to it. He thinks they're too much like magic. But computers are a status symbol, so naturally they had to have one. Dudley pitched temper tantrums for one, telling them how much he needed one for schoolwork. Naturally all he's done with it since they got it is play games, which he's foul at, and try to find porn on the Internet." Harry smiled. "Aunt Petunia insisted on filtering software that won't let him get to anything any racier than your average kiddy matinee. Anyway, I'm not allowed to touch it, except to dust it."

"Right. So finally we have something where I have the jump on everyone else, without having to study myself into the ground. I couldn't keep my mouth shut."

Scribe was still half-draped in Snape's arms. She sighed, and got her feet solidly under her. "Let go, Sev. Nothing's going to happen." He growled, causing the student's to shift nervously, and Dite to grin and fan herself. "Let me amend that--nothing's going to happen right now." She reached up and drew one fingertip down his cheek. "To quote some song, or movie title, or something--night must fall." He let go of her slowly. "Besides, I'd be distracted, thinking about that computer, and if you haven't noticed yet, this room has a distinct lack of comfortably padded surfaces."

She sat in front of the computer, then went still. She gripped the edge of the desk in both hands and rolled her eyes upward. "Lord? I've been under a lot of stress lately. And I know what's going to happen later isn't strictly in accordance with the rules, but if you could see your way clear to actually having this work, I'd really appreciate it. Plus Madame Pomfrey won't have to deal with a stress induced thrombosis. Thank you." She reached out and pushed a button on the face of the box.

*beep* *whirrrr* *flash* *clickclick* *hummmm* *musical flourish*

"Halleluja!"

Ron elbowed Snape nervously. "She isn't going to start speaking in tongues, is she?"

Snape looked down at him. "I'll thank you not to mention tongues right now."

Scribe was moving the mouse around, clicking. "Internet connection, Internet connection. Please, God, Internet connection." *hummm* "Oh, no! Where's the dial tone? Where's the blipbloopping?"

Snape said, "The man said something about a satellite connection."

"You mean I'm not on dial up?" She clutched her chest.

Dite gave a shiver, eyes going wide, then giggled. "Damn, girlfriend, you're easy to please."

"Signing in!" Scribe jumped up and did a wild Snoopy dance. Of course only Hermione and Harry really recognized it, but the others got some idea of what was going on.

Hermione looked at Harry. "She's got a rather nice voice."

Harry replied, "Yeah. I never thought I'd like hearing anyone but Freddie Mercury sind We Are The Champions."

Dite patted Snape on the shoulder. "Well, hon, you might not understand women as a sex, but your instincts are spot on with at least one of us."

"Thank you," said Snape dryly. "I only hope that some of this enthusiasm carries over into *ahem* other pursuits."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered around behind Scribe, peering over her shoulder. Ron wrinkled his nose. "A butterfly? Is this a girl thing?"

"It can be, but it can also be very macho. Let's see..." *typetypetype* "Okay, this is what's called a 'search engine'. You tell it what you're looking for, and it goes and gets the addresses of the places most likely to have what you want. Guy stuff... Hmmm... Rugby." *typetypetype* *click* A string of links appeared on the screen. "Now you click on one of these..." *click* "Voila. A page about rugby. Oh, they have a video clip, too. And since we're not on dial up, it should actually work." *click*

A clip of a rather spectacular tackle and pile up played out. "Wicked!" gasped Ron. "Do they have more like that?"

"Oh, heck yes. Let's go back to the links page." *click* "Here, the Ball Club." *click* "Aack! Close, close!" *Click!* Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all staring, mouths open. "Oo, damn. I didn't mean for you guys to get that sort of an education."

Ron squeaked. "I thought we were going to see Rugby, not..."

"I know, I know."

"You asked it to show us Rugby, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, why didn't it?"

"Whoever made up that site listed it under 'rugby', because they knew that a lot of people would look for something about rugby, and some of them would be sent to their site."

"That's dishonest."

Scribe shrugged. "That's life. As far as I know, there's no 'false advertising' regulations about what keywords you assign to a site."

"But why didn't the computer discard that one?"

"Because it only knows what people tell it."

"That's stupid."

"Ron, if your Mum goes to the store looking for canned peas, and finds a stack of cans labeled PEASE, with pictures of peas on the cover, and the grocer hands her a can, saying 'here are your peas', and she takes them home and opens the can and finds beets instead of peas, is it her fault?"

"Well, no. But isn't the machine supposed to be smarter than us?"

"No. Common misconception. It's just faster, and has a longer reach."

"Huh?"

She sighed. "How can I explain this?" Her face brightened. "I know! James Hogan, by way of Ed. A friend of mine named Ed told me about a situation in a novel by Jack Hogan. There was a computer in it that was named FISE. That was supposed to stand for Functional Integration of Simulated Environment." When Ron started to open his mouth she said, "Muggles love acronyms, okay? Anyway, the computer seemed to cock up so much that they started claiming it stood for Fastest Idiot Seen on Earth."

"I still don't get it."

"How can I put it in terms you'll understand?" She contemplated. "Consider house elves."

Ron blinked. "Okay."

"House elves, in general, are wonderfully practical and useful, right? Let's face it, Hogwarts probably couldn't run without them." Nods all around. "Ever tried to have a conversation with them?"

Ron and Harry made faces. Even Hermione admitted, "They're a bit... limited. If it's anything other than housework..."

"But at that, they excel. Think of a computer as a particularly dim house elf, who is, however, fantastically gifted and swift at his particular skills."

They thought about it for a moment. "Ohhh..."

She nodded. "Now, unless you tell that house elf that you don't want your antique furniture too highly polished, because that will take off the finish, and lower the value, they're just going to keep waxing and rubbing, because it's what they've been told to do, and they do it well, and there's no point in getting mad at them because they didn't read your mind. Now, then, I'd like a little while to myself, folks. I need to get to yahoogroups and start looking for mailing lists."

Dite giggled, then said in a sing-song voice, "I know what kiiiind you're loooking for."

"Yoooou're riiiiight."

Dite started to herd the students out. "C'mon, kids Strife stole the Slytherins' Quiddich robes, and he could use some help sewing up the arm holes." She paused at the door, saying, "You, too, Snapey." He gave her a rebellious look. "Leave her to read for a little while." She giggled again. "Believe me, if she reads what I think she's going to read, you'll be the one getting the benefit later on..."