100 Ways to Kill a Weasley

Hermione Granger-Weasley sat at her desk staring at the pile of bills. Paying tuition to put two children, Rose and Hugo, through Hogwarts, combined with a mortgage, a car payment, season tickets to the Chudley Cannons, a various other little bills, and the combination of her salary from the Ministry and his from working with his brother George at the joke shop was gone with little left over for food and other necessities.

Discouraged from having the same argument that something had to go, but that it was usually her book or clothing budget that had to be sacrificed, never his Quidditch money or drinking money when he wanted to go out with Harry. He was always quick to remind her, though, how broke they were if she wanted to go out with Ginny or Luna. Something had to give, and she was tired of it always being her sacrifice.

She sat on the old wooden kitchen chair as she looked between the heap of bills and Ron sitting comfortably in the easy chair he had to have to read the sports page of the Daily Prophet. Desperate times called for desperate measures! If she couldn’t reason with Ron, perhaps she could shock or scare him into seeing how one-sided things had been lately. Quickly she scribbled a few notes to help her support her claims and she turned to face her husband.

“Ron, I’ve been looking over our debt, and we either need to greatly reduce our expenditures or increase our income.”

She paused, as Ron briefly glanced at her, nodded his head and resumed reading the paper.

“Since you don’t want to sacrifice anything and I’m tired of making all the cuts from the things I want to do, I think the best thing to do would be to find a way to make more money.”

He grunted to let her know that he was listening, so she continued.

“Well, since I don’t want to leave the Ministry, at least not right away, I thought I could open up a side business here at home. I could transform the spare bedroom, putting a side entrance there, and it would be the perfect place to work. Ron, what do you think?”

“Whatever works for you, Hon,” he said, still paying more attention to the paper than her. “I can’t believe this. Puddlemere United released Oliver Wood, and the Cannons backed out of contract negotiations letting the Wimbourne Wasps get home for 60,000 galleons! Yet they’ve resigned Ryan, who’s twice as old for 65,000. Ryan was old when he played for the Irish National team!”

Hermione sighed at his ranting.

“So I guess it’ll be okay if I open a Maison de Passé in the spare room?”

“If that make you happy, go right ahead.”

He got up and kissed her chastely on the top of her head.

“I’m going to go fly for a bit.”

She screamed as the door shut behind him, then decided, what the heck; he just gave her permission and went to work.

Changing the window to a door was relatively simple. Changing the simple double bed with pressed-wood headboard and footboard into a luxurious cherry wood super king four poster took some energy. Of course transforming the crystal water glass into a bevelled mirror for the headboard was no small feat either. The plain pressed wood night tables were easily converted into a rich cherry that matched the bed. A few swishes of her wand and the dresser was transformed into a rich leather couch and the mirror elongated and attached to the wall over the couch; an armoire was easily transfigured it a small bar. Charming the walls a rich green and the carpet a vibrant red with silk bedding to match, she hoped she had created an environment that would be warm and inviting, not to mention let her husband and future customers know that she means business.

Labelling herself as a personal masseuse for men, she began advertising. It wasn’t long before she had a client base built up to keep her busy whenever Ron wanted a night out with the boys. Strangely disappointing to her, Ron never enquired to her about her business or the extra money. As long as she was no longer complaining about his needs and she smelled clean when she came to his bed, he didn’t seem to notice her knew business.

Well, that was the case, until one Friday afternoon when he told her they were going to Harry and Ginny’s for a dinner party later that night. She thought she had appeased him when she told him that she had a standing business appointment that she couldn’t cancel this late and she would join him as soon as business was completed.

As usual Hermione greeted her Friday evening client dressed only in a short, black satin robe.

“Hello, Severus.”

She kissed him on the mouth.

“Would you like a drink before we begin?”

He declined the drink and undressed on the couch. He lay on the bed and pulled Hermione on top of him. Untying her robe and sliding it down her form so he could watch as her full breasts danced as the thrust into each other. He never thought this bright young witch would take up the world’s oldest profession, but then again, she did marry Weasley.

At that thought, there was a knock on the door.

“Oi, Hermione, come on. We’ve got to get to Harry and Ginny’s party.”

“Excuse me for just a minute,” she whispered to her guest, as she called her clients. However, she didn’t move from what her body was doing.

“Ron, I told you, I couldn’t cancel this meeting. You go on ahead and I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done.”

She turned her full attention back to the black eyed, black haired man beneath her.

“Sorry about that, he only hears what he wants to hear, but he’s left me alone for nearly year now and doesn’t question the business or the money.”

Just after that statement, the door slammed open.

“We need to go, Her---”

He stopped mid-sentence and looked at his naked wife of fifteen years fucking another man in his house.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” he screamed at them.

“I should go, perhaps you could give me a rain check for this evening?” Snape suggested.

“No, you paid good gold for this evening, he can wait,” Hermione said firmly. “Although, I will compensate you if you let me have a minute or two to handle this.”

Again, without stopping her movements, with her guest, she turned to Ron and faced him, he looked somewhat bewildered at his wife.

“Oh, do close your mouth Ron. You gave me permission and you’re costing me money. Now go to the party and we can discuss this tomorrow morning. However, it’ll have to be quick. I have a guest, a client coming at eleven while you’re at the Quidditch match.”

“You’re . . . you’re . . .” Ron started out.

“I’m a whore, Ron,” she stated bluntly, “and have been for a year, ever since you gave me permission to open a Maison de Passé to solve our money problems.”

“You . . . you never said that . . . that . . . you . . .” he stuttered clumsily, clutching his chest.

“True, but you agree without asking. In fact, you agree quite quickly and have never questioned the business until now?”

She continued to shimmy over her former professor and his hands came up to caress her breasts as her husband watched in horror.

“But . . . but . . . but . . .” Ron stammered again. “You . . . you . . . you . . .”

His face turned red and blotchy.

“Ron, you’re getting yourself all worked up over something that has been going on with your blessing for a while now. You certainly didn’t complain when you had the money to upgrade your seats for the Cannons. You haven’t complained about my new wardrobe. And just last week you were quite ecstatic that my business was doing so well that I was able to leave the Ministry and still support us. You didn’t complain, six months ago when I told you that my little side business had brought in enough money to pay off our debt and put away considerable savings.”

She rambled on as Severus Snape adjusted their position. He was now sitting up with her legs wrapped around his waist and had firmly attached his mouth to one of her nipples. He was decidedly enjoying the additional show that he got tonight. He wasn’t often that he was in the position to be the one jealous of, instead of the one who was jealous.

Ron took one last look at his wife, comfortably fucking the greasy git under his own roof, and collapsed.

“Ron, Ron, oh dear!” Hermione half-heartedly exclaimed. “Well, I’ll just take care of him, once we are done with business.”

“Umpf,” was all the reply she received.

***Two years later***


“Severus, I need some help, if you don’t mind.”

Severus Snape appeared in tight leather pants and nothing else. He looked at the house’s madam, and rolled his eyes.

“I told you, the next time Mockridge wants tits larger than watermelons you need to charge him four hundred galleons to cover time and pain.”

Hermione sat down in a cosy leather chair to ease her back and did her best to push her breasts into a comfortable position with her hands.

“He paid one thousand galleons for these and three hours with me and them, Severus. Can you please quit ogling my daughter and the new recruits and help me put these back down to a size that won’t break my back!”

“Why did I agree to come to work for you after your husband dropped dead watching us?” je grumbled under his breath as he kneeled down in front of her to help.

She tilted his chin up to look him in the eye.

“Because you love this as much as I do.”

She kissed him on the cheek.

“Because you love fucking me for free.”

She kissed him on the other cheek.

“Because you love testing the new recruits.”

She kissed him on the nose.

“Because you love getting paid to fuck.”

She kissed his lips.

“Now, please do be careful of what you are doing, you were supposed to make them smaller, not turn them green.”


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Rare author’s note: Thank you, this was fun!