More Ways to Kill A Weasley

FOR DISCLAIMER, SEE ABOVE



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A/N/WARNING: Having been completely amused, ensnared, and thoroughly enamoured with the lovely round robin begun by Ms Figg, One Hundred Ways to Kill a Weasley, I am thrilled to be able to contribute to its successor, More Ways to Kill a Weasley.



I have noticed that these imaginative deaths of "Ronnikins" (or the Weasel, as I think of him) tend to be more along the humorous vein.



However, my style runs rather dark: consider yourself WARNED that you are about to read a brief AU one-shot that contains Graphic Content, OOC Behavior, Non-consensual Sex, Incestuous Sexual Situation, Coarse Language, and Canon Character Death.



This is dedicated to Darque Hart, a dear, dear friend and fellow Severphile.



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and now, a Tale From the Darkside



by



Victoria Prince











It was Luna Lovegood that found Severus Snape in the Shrieking Shack, still lying in a pool of his own dark-red blood, giving every impression of lifelessness; he was calmly awaiting the last threads of his mortal coil to unwind. She hurriedly pulled a small pouch from her robe pocket, and enlarged its contents.





The first remedy she used was a phial of silvery phoenix tears, to heal and close the gaping maw of a snakebite on the Headmaster\'s neck. Luna then sprinkled ground unicorn horn into the nearly defunct Potions Master\'s dry, gasping, mouth, and dripped the last of the phoenix tears onto his tongue to wash it down his throat.





The unicorns\' herd leader had allowed his fey little human friend to collect a small snippet of his horn two years ago, when she\'d been a Fourth year. The phoenix tears had been the tiniest bit harder for her to come by, until Dumbledore\'s death.





Fawkes had searched for Luna, only, seeking comforting in his time of grief. He found her at her secret hiding place in the Forbidden Forest where she had been collecting odd specimens to study. The brilliantly coloured red-and-gold phoenix had trilled a mournful death dirge, and wept copious tears of loss for his deceased Master, allowing the young Ravenclaw to catch three full phials of them.





As Severus Snape gasped and re-opened his jet-black eyes, the first sight that met them was a pair of seemingly all-knowing dove-grey eyes. Then Miss Lovegood\'s sweet, gentle smile washed over him; a wealth of warmth and peace covered him.





The last thing that flashed across his bemused mind was the single thought, "Shit. I\'m still alive" just before unconsciousness reclaimed him. The young witch smiled wider, then cast a stasis charm on him until she could fetch the Healers.









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With the battle won, Voldemort dead, and the Side of Light finally victorious, fame and glory brightly blazed all around the now hugely famous Golden Trio.





With Rita Skeeter hounding them at every turn, as well as the other paparazzi chasing their every movement, the beleaguered Trio had finally retreated inside Harry\'s home at #12 Grimmauld Place, until the furor died down.





Molly Weasley didn\'t handle the death of her sons well at all. Neither Fred nor Charlie had survived the Great Battle of Hogwarts. The normally bustling, opinionated, generous woman, who instantly mothered all she met, had taken to her bed . . . broken-hearted . . . lost in a deep, dark, depression.





Ginny also grieved for her lost brothers, especially Fred. Her very soul ached to have lost her beloved Fred, the only person who knew her Secret, except for her childhood best friend, Luna Lovegood, both of whom were bound by an Unbreakable Vow to never tell another living soul.





Her Protector. The Brother-Who-Made-It-Stop for her was gone. It was sure to start back up again, now.







Wanting her friend, Ginny, to stay at Grimmauld with her, Hermione Granger had begged Arthur Weasley earnestly, and in all innocence, to allow the girl to come with her. Ginny\'s trusting father immediately consented.





It would neatly solve the problem of who would supervise his daughter, since Molly couldn\'t, while he was so terribly busy at the Ministry, working many long hours helping restore the Wizarding World to normality.





Besides, Arthur Weasley consoled himself, her big brother Ron would be there to protect her. He could trust his son to make certain that no hanky-panky went on between his innocent sixteen-year-old daughter and young Harry Potter.





Arthur knew the two teens would eventually be together; they truly loved each other. He was fine with that, as he loved Harry like another son, but he didn\'t want Ginny to crop up accidentally pregnant. At least not while his little girl was still in school.





However, Ginny Weasley broke out in a sick cold sweat upon hearing Hermione\'s request.





She hated this; having to pretend to be happy and excited to go stay with her friend Hermione, her brand new boyfriend, Harry Potter, and her brother, Ron. It didn\'t make her happy; it filled her with dread. She wasn\'t excited about the prospect; she was terrified of it.





Ron would be there. Ronnikins, her closest-in-age brother, her quite literally too-close brother!





And then there was Harry.





Dear gods! What if Harry found her Secret out? Would he believe that she was truly the twisted, bent, worthless whore that her brother always called her . . . during the Secret Time? Ginny shuddered, turned a pasty-white, clapped her hand over her mouth, and took the stairs two-at-a-time in her rush to the loo.





Ginny hugged the cool porcelain of the toilet as her body attempted to forcibly eject her feminine core up through her mouth. She gripped it tighter, as fear and self-loathing began to lift her up off her knees with the violence of her retching. If only she could vomit her soul out, she\'d be free at last from her perverted brother\'s assaults!





Hermione dashed up the staircase behind Ginny, into the bathroom, and caught hold of the younger girl\'s hair, barely saving it from needing an immediate wash. "Ginny! What\'s wrong? Are you alright?" Hermione\'s concerned words rushed quickly out of her mouth, one almost atop the other.





Ginny waved her left arm back weakly, and managed to gag out the plea, "Cold flannel." As Hermione leapt up to run the cold tap over the clean flannel that hung draped over the sink\'s edge, she released her grip on the redhead\'s hair.





It curtained down, in an auburn silky sheet, just enough for Ginny to hide behind, as she stoically stored away her revulsion and put on her \'good girl\' face. After all, Hermione didn\'t know. She truly thought that she was doing Ginny a favour by inviting her to stay with them.





As soon as the cold, wet, cloth was pressed into her grasping left hand, Ginny mumbled, "Tell Dad the kippers must\'ve gone bad. Not to eat any." She motioned for Hermione to leave her. As Ginny spat into the toilet one last time, she flopped her bum down onto the cracked, cool, floor tiles, and began to wipe the mercifully cold rag across her face and neck.





Hermione rushed to do her friend\'s bidding, and gave the poor girl a bit of privacy. Ginny sighed, flushed away the evidence of her guilt, and slowly rose up on shaky legs. She ran the tap, washed her face and hands properly, and brushed her teeth.





There was nothing for it; Ginny sighed again, her shoulders slumped in defeat, as she trudged down the hall to her bedroom and packed her trunk. She\'d have to get Hermione to shrink it for her, as she wasn\'t legally able to do magic off Hogwarts grounds for almost two more months. Her Mum and Dad were sticklers for things of that sort.





But Ginny Weasley had made up her mind. If Ron touched her . . . even one more time . . . then, on her seventeenth birthday in August, she was going to challenge him to an official Duel of Honor. And little sister had already decided just which curse would be her finale.





The Killing Curse.







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Professor Severus Snape was lying, as pale and still as death, on his narrow cot in St Mungo\'s, still weakened from his near-deadly encounter with that bitch, Nagini. His fever had broken in the wee hours of the morning, and he had finally been officially declared to be "on the mend".





His survival was mainly due to the efforts of a single schoolgirl, that nearly everyone thought was nutters, Luna Lovegood. She had now become his most frequent visitor.





Kingsley Shacklebolt was the Auror currently sitting guard over his fellow Order member; he\'d sworn to stand by Severus during his trial before the Wizengamot. Kingsley knew things about his friend, the surly enigmatic Potions Master, that few beyond Albus Dumbledore had been privileged to ever know.





He knew about the tortures that Severus had endured over the years, in the name of Light, and in loyal service to the Order, while he pretended to serve He-Who-Was-Now-Dead. He had collected solid proof and could stand before the honorable Court and truthfully proclaim, just as Dumbledore had done years earlier, "Severus Snape is no more a Death Eater than I am."





Ever alert, Kingsley looked up as Luna shyly peeked through the crack of the slightly ajar door. His dark-chocolate face split into a wide, bright white, welcoming smile for the pale-haired girl. Luna impishly grinned back at the older wizard, as he motioned for her to come inside.





"Congratulations, Miss Lovegood! Professor Snape has finally been declared to be making a full recovery from severe blood loss and venom poisoning. Good work, my dear, and if no one else will do so, allow me to say \'thank you\' on behalf of the Professor," Kingsley said, his deep voice lowered, but booming enough that the person currently being spoken about, as if he wasn\'t there, clearly heard every word.





"Shacklebolt, you letch, let the girl be! I\'m perfectly capable of speaking for myself," rasped a scratchy, but still rich, dark baritone from the cot behind them. The tall, hulking, black Auror and the tiny, fey, blonde girl simultaneously spun around to face the direction of the speaker.





Severus felt his face crack into a wry grin, genuine amusement lighting those sin-black eyes, at the juxtaposition between the ebony-and-ivory pair who were both currently gaping at him in wide-eyed, slack-jawed amazement.





He snarkily drawled, "Contrary to popular belief, and probable wish, of many amongst the Wizarding community . . . especially that infernal Rowling woman . . . I am, indeed, still very much alive!"









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Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had all just sat down to a luncheon of bacon-buddies, crisps, and Butterbeer in Grimmauld Place\'s kitchen when a Ministry owl arrived with a shrill screech and adamant flapping of its brown-speckled wings against the dirty windowpanes of the single kitchen window.





Only a select few Ministry workers, Order members, and Minerva McGonagall knew their current location. It had to be something terribly important.





Harry hurried over to where the impatient owl was still tapping, opened the window, and removed the letter from the huge brown barn owl\'s beak. "Here you go," he softly told the bird, as he passed it a thick piece of bacon as its tip and treat.





The owl blinked its large orange eyes disbelievingly, and cooed a grateful hoot to Harry from its perch on the windowsill; usually, at most, it only received a dried up owl-treat during its many deliveries for the Ministry.





This human had given him Bacon! Bertram loved Bacon; he\'d remember this address, and try to be the only owl to deliver any future letters that the black Auror had to send here. Quickly consuming his unexpected feast, Bertram blinked his appreciation once more before he spread his wide-spanned wings and gracefully arced away, back on his appointed rounds.





"Well, Harry? Who\'s it from?" queried Hermione, always the want-to-know-it-all.





Harry snapped the wax seal open, and quickly scanned the contents of the letter. His hand trembled, and he plopped back down onto the chair beside Ginny, as he re-read the missive more carefully.





"He\'s alive! Hermione, Snape\'s alive, and Kingsley Shacklebolt says he\'s expected to make a complete recovery in St Mungo\'s. Luna found him in the Shrieking Shack where we\'d left him, believing him to be dead. Somehow, she kept him alive long enough for the Healers to get there in time," Harry excitedly said.





"We\'ve got to go see him, Harry! We\'ve got to tell him that we know he\'s innocent, and that we\'ll stand beside him if they try to send him to Azkaban," replied Hermione, her excitement matching Harry\'s. "It won\'t take me ten minutes to be ready to go."





Ron scoffed, from around a massive bite of his bacon-buddy, spewing tiny hailstones of bacon and bread across the table as he said, "Don\'t know why you\'re getting your knickers in such a twist, \'Mione! The greasy git\'ll just be getting what he deserves, finally, after the way he\'s treated us for years. I wouldn\'t mind knowing that the old bat was locked up in Azkaban, right alongside the rest of his Death Eater best mates. That\'d bring the fucker down a peg or two."





Harry and Hermione simultaneously exclaimed, "Ron!" both shocked at their best friend\'s language, and lack of concern about a man who had sacrificed and suffered so much for the sake of the entire Wizarding World.





Shocked amber eyes turned to meet troubled emerald green eyes; Harry gave a slight nod of his unruly dark head. Hermione got up without another word to Ron, and left the kitchen. Ginny quickly took another bite of her sandwich, and hurriedly followed Hermione back upstairs.





"Ron, you saw Snape\'s memories in the Pensive, just like Hermione and me. You know he\'s innocent. Why be such a bloody prat about it? Come on, mate. Come with us, and hear what he has to say for himself," Harry tried to reason with his best mate and brother of his girlfriend.





Ron Weasley sighed heavily. "Alright, mate. I\'ll go. Don\'t wanna have \'Moine pissed at me now. \'Specially not after she let me round second base last night!" His wide, freckled face lit up with an evil inner glow as he planned his strategy out for shagging Hermione as soon as he possibly could.





Merlin\'s hairy balls! He was horny as fuck, and the tight-assed little bookworm was ripe for the picking; she was just playing \'hard to get\'. If Hermione didn\'t give it up in the immediate future, he\'d just have to waylay Ginny again . . . and soon.





However, his cock \'itched\' to take a swim in the warm, wet, pool between Hermione Granger\'s widespread thighs. It made his cock hard, just thinking about doing her.





Ron knew she wanted it; after all, she\'d been sniffing after him like a bitch in heat for years now. Whether or not he\'d really marry her, as he\'d hinted at each time they had a petting session, was another thing.





Ronald Weasley wanted to fuck Hermione Granger, right enough. However, like most Pureblood wizards, he still wanted his bride to be a virgin Pureblood witch.





Best not let that on to Harry, though. The sodding do-gooder hero prick would be sure to tell her, and spoil all of his carefully laid plans.





Harry looked away from the rather queer expression on his friend\'s face, disgusted that Ron could even speak aloud such private details of his relationship with Hermione. It was damned bloody well disrespectful to refer to a witch you supposedly loved in that way.





Gentlemen didn\'t "kiss and tell". His godfather, Sirius Black, had taught him that when Harry had tried to tell Sirius the details about his kissing Cho.





As Ron pulled his fifth bacon-buddy from the platter, and determinedly began to bolt it down, Harry got up and started walking out of the kitchen. "We\'ll be leaving in twenty minutes, Ron, going by Floo straight to the hall in front of the Director\'s office in St Mungo\'s. You might want to have a wash up before hand, mate. Girls set great store in things like that, ya know?" He let the door slam meaningfully behind him.





Ron extended the hand not currently occupied with his food, and sharply arched his middle finger up at the closed door. Another fierce, ripping bite of his sandwich and he added a second flip-off, solely for the opinions just expressed by the now departed Harry-Bloody-Fucking-Potter.









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Harry and Hermione stepped in rapid succession from the public Floo just outside the office of the Director of St Mungo\'s. Ginny shot out of the Floo so fast, half a minute later, that she practically landed in Harry\'s arms.





Ron came through last. He\'d told Harry that he\'d be \'bringing up the rear\'. He really used the opportunity to quickly come up behind Ginny, grabbing her around the waist to prevent her fleeing, and running his hands up to her tender young breasts.





Ron began squeezing her soft flesh until it hurt, then roaming down to her quim with his wide hand, and cupping her, suggestively grinding himself against her denim-clad bum, growling menacingly into her ear, "Tonight, whore. Midnight. The attic. Don\'t be late or I\'ll tell Harry EVERYTHING, and he\'ll hate you forever!" His face told nothing of this, however, as he emerged from the fireplace and calmly brushed the Floo powder off his shirt and boyishly grinned at his friends.





Ron moved over to stand beside Hermione, and take her hand. The stupid little cunt loved it when he held her hand in public.





\'More shagging points, with hardly any sacrifice on my part,\' Ron smugly thought to himself. \'After all, it\'s not like she\'s a dog like Pansy Parkinson, who I\'d need to Polyjuice first to be able to fuck. \'Mione\'s really rather pretty . . . for a Mudblood.\'





Ron impishly grinned his \'Ronnikins\' smile down at Hermione, and stole a chaste, furtive, peck of her lips. "Well, come on then. Let\'s go check on the greasy git," he jokingly said.





Hermione couldn\'t be angry with him when he looked so adorably . . . \'Ron\'. "Don\'t call him that, Ron! His name is Professor Snape and, at the very least, he deserves the respect of your using his title," she gently chided her boyfriend, although she softened the sting of her reproach with an answering smile.





As the foursome started down the main hall, they met Luna Lovegood skipping her way toward the public accessible Floo. "Hi! You\'ve come to see the Professor?" she asked, more statement than question. At their agreement, she added, "Follow me. I\'ll take you to his room."





So it was, that less than five minutes later, five of his former school charges were crowded into a tiny hospital room with a scowling, hospital-gowned, Professor Severus Snape. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt stood as far to the back of the room as he could, keeping protective watch over Snape, as well as a careful eye on all of his young visitors.





"Professor Snape," began Harry Potter, "we\'ve saved and viewed your memories in Dumbledore\'s Pensive. We know the truth of your innocence, sir, and will stand as your witnesses before the Wizengamot . . . if you\'ll permit us."





"Gods! Would that I had my wand," Severus Snape growled. "I\'d Obliviate the lot of you. Those were my personal, most private memories . . . not to be shared en masse. If Albus hadn\'t ordered me to share them with Potter, so the dunderhead could complete his mission, I\'d have taken them with me to my grave."





"We meant no disrespect, sir! However, we believed you to be dead and wished to know the real truth behind it all," Hermione quickly leapt in to explain.





Severus Snape sighed deeply, then said, "Yes, my so-called death. Alas, the rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated. You remain ever the insufferable know-it-all, Miss Granger. Some truths are best left unknown, not that you\'ll appreciate that fact until you learn horrendous truths and pray for oblivion from the knowledge thereof."





Ginny Weasley paled considerably at the Professor\'s last sentence. She surreptitiously glanced from Hermione to Ron to Harry. Her gaze finally stopped on Luna, who met Ginny\'s pale topaz anguished stare with an understanding, sad, dove-grey blink.





"I need to run to the loo. Want to come with me, Luna?" Ginny said, as nonchalantly as she possibly could. The two sixteen-year-old girlfriends quietly left the room, supposedly on a search for the ladies room.





When they\'d been gone five minutes, Ronald Weasley began to shift uncomfortably in his seat. When they\'d been gone ten minutes, he stood up and opened the door to look up and down the empty hallway for them. Just as fifteen minutes crawled closer, Luna Lovegood slipped back in the door. Alone.





"Where\'s Ginny?" Ron immediately asked the young Ravenclaw witch. "I\'m responsible for her. I\'m supposed to be looking out for her for Mum and Dad."





"Oh, I\'m sorry, Ron. I\'m supposed to tell everyone that Ginny got sick. She was vomiting, and took the Floo back to where you\'ve been staying. She said that something she ate must not have agreed with her tummy. She said to tell you all that she was going straight to bed, and she\'d see you when you all get back home," Luna answered, just as if she were reciting directly from a book.





Hermione stood up. "I\'ll go home and check on her," she told Ron.





Ron rested a heavy restraining hand on her shoulder, gave her another quick peck on her lips, and said, "No. She\'s my sister, and my responsibility. I\'ll go sit with her. You stay here with Harry and visit with the Professor."





Hermione smiled in appreciation of Ron\'s unexpected thoughtfulness, and said, "Thanks, Ron. We\'ll be home immediately after visiting hours."





He replied, "Not a problem, \'Mione. Stay as long as you like. I\'ve got it under control. We\'ll be fine on our own." With a beaming smile lighting his broad freckled face, Ron made his pleasant goodbyes.





Ron left the room, as quickly as he dared to, without arousing suspicion. Just like when he\'d left Harry in the midst of the crucial search for the Horcruxes, it hadn\'t really been because of any true concern for his entire family.





Ron had only been concerned with getting back as far as Hogsmeade, just as quickly as he could.





The next day would be the usual Hogsmeade daytrip for Hogwart\'s students; he\'d hired the cheapest, dingy little back room in the attic of the Broomsticks for the night, just as he\'d done many times last year to sneak away with Lavender Brown. They knew him there, and weren\'t in the habit of questioning the source of good knuts.





As soon as Ginny reached Honeyduke\'s, Ron waylaid her, and forced her to come back to his room. He had to make certain that Ginny was still completely under his domination and that she hadn\'t told anyone their Secret.





He\'d bound her there, tied in various positions, with the early afternoon becoming an all-nightlong torture for Ginny. Ron forced her to service his cock in every way his sexually addicted, twisted, mind had ever fantasized about. He only allowed Ginny brief respites to use the loo, have a quick wash-up, brush his cum from her teeth, and then he\'d take her again in a new position . . . or different orifice.





Water, food, as well as permission to use the loo became \'favours\'. \'Favours\' that Ginny had to pay for with seeming willingness to Ron\'s perverted demands; else, the promised reward wasn\'t granted. Explaining where she\'d been overnight had cost her a week\'s detention but, as always, no one thought anything wrong with the fact that Ginny had spent the whole night in the company of her closest-in-age, trusted, brother.





Much the same feeling possessed him now. Ron was in a cold panic to find Ginny; he had to know that his Secret was still safe.





When he did find the whining little whore, she\'d pay dearly for making him panic for nothing. Fuck waiting for some cunt until midnight! He was going to hold her down and thoroughly ream her out for running from him.





Early on in his sexual career, Ron had found a very useful spell called the Sensuatus Charm, in a Dark Magic book in the Restricted Section. Using it, he could go for hours, cumming, re-hardening, and cumming again. He might even force a screw on Hermione later tonight, as an encore.





He\'d kept his cool; he\'d played it off in front of them all . . . even the famed Legilimency Master, Snivellus Snape! Not one of them was suspicious of a single thing.





However, Ronald Weasley barely restrained himself from taking the corridor at a dead-run to the public Floo.







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Luna began to fidget and flutter around the tiny hospital room after Ron\'s departure. Like a butterfly, she couldn\'t seem to find one spot that she felt secure enough with to perch on.





Her conscience was ripping her soul to shreds. Why, oh why, in Merlin\'s name, had she ever made that Unbreakable Vow to Ginny not to tell this horrendous reality, this terrible, dark, Secret to another living soul?





Another LIVING soul! Luna\'s dove-grey eyes suddenly widened in her epiphany. She now had an \'out\' while still abiding to the letter of The Vow, a loop-hole as it were, sitting right there, just behind Hermione in the form of Harry Potter.





Harry had actually died, and come back; that made him not a living soul, but a re-living soul!





"Luna, are you all right?" asked Harry, just as if \'on cue\'. Her chance, at last, to make things right for Ginny Weasley, had just volunteered of his own accord. Luna Lovegood was a great believer in fate and destiny, so she took the plunge . . . even if The Vow later demanded her life in return.





"I\'d simply love a cup of tea and some biscuits, but I forgot to bring any money," Luna sadly sighed. Ever the gentleman, Harry stood up and said, "Come on then, let\'s find the cafeteria. My treat."





With a few more words to Hermione, Shacklebolt, and the Professor, Harry and Luna excused themselves, promised to return shortly, and then left for some refreshment.





Harry had become accustomed to Luna\'s almost prescient way of seeing and knowing more than was available to most others, and spouting out the most important information as if she was merely mentioning the current weather conditions.





He sensed that this was one of those \'important\' things, and calmly went through the ordinary motions of ordering their tea tray. Harry wanted to allow Luna to find her own way of telling him whatever she had to say.





They found a small table for two in a rather dark corner of the cafeteria, and Harry set the tray down. Luna poured for them both, and blew on her tea before taking a sip. The china teacup rattled in its saucer as the young witch set it back onto the table with a soft \'clink\', and cleared her throat.





"Harry?" she tentatively began. "Yes, Luna?" he prompted as his sympathetic emerald eyes met her troubled grey gaze. Luna swallowed hard. She really didn\'t want to die from breaking her Vow; besides, she still had a destiny of her own to fulfill. Her only other option was . . .





"Harry, I was wondering if you would show me how to use Occlumency. Hermione and Ginny told me a tiny bit about your lessons with Professor Snape, and I\'d like to see if I can block someone using Legilimency against me," Luna asked in her odd little way, making it sound so nonchalant and unimportant, when in reality it was of supreme relevance.





There. Now it was in the hands of fate. Either he\'d do it or not.





Nevertheless, Luna still dredged up the gruesome spectacle that she\'d once accidentally witnessed between Ginny and Ron in the Weasley boys\' tree-house, and had the dreadful image fresh in the forefront of her thoughts.





"Are you certain about this Luna? Occlumency is quite painful to learn, you know. I\'d hate to hurt you, and, even without meaning to, I might," Harry slowly replied, before he quietly explained further, "Since Voldemort\'s death, I sometimes . . . lose . . . myself. It\'s like I have too much power or something, and it\'s awfully hard to control at times." A painfully deep-red blush stained Harry\'s whole face, his ears included, at his frightened confession.





If he\'d told anyone else, except Luna Lovegood, they would surely cart him immediately off to Azkaban as the next rising Dark Lord or some such. Troubled emerald eyes stared into tormented storm-grey eyes; the pleading for help obvious to Harry in Luna\'s terrified gaze.





He slowly drew his wand and gently aimed the tip between Luna\'s eyes, holding it right over the location of her \'third eye\'. "Just relax, and let me see whatever it is, okay? I\'ll try to be as gentle as I can," Harry softly whispered, then cast in a quiet firm voice, "LEGILIMENS!"









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Severus allowed his jet-black eyes to roam longingly over Miss Granger, as she primly sat beside his bed, reading an article from Potions Master\'s Quarterly aloud to him.





Gods! When did she grow up? The Professor couldn\'t take his black eyes off Hermione Granger. He\'d always thought of her as a child, as was proper and correct; she\'d been his most brilliant student, yes, although a thoroughly obnoxious child.





However, now her bushy honey-brown hair was twisted up in a loose knot on top of her head, probably for comfort against the unseasonably hot day; it could not have been in honor of a visit to him, of course. And the way her dress skimmed over those surprisingly mature feminine curves!





The delightful combination forced Severus to admit to himself that the aggravating Gryffindor minx looked quite . . . adult, now, at eighteen.





There was that full swell of breast just there, giving, then taking away glimpses of her cleavage as it shyly peeked out the neckline of her cerulean blue sundress. Hermione crossed her knees, and repositioned her delectable bum a bit more comfortably in the hard, straight-backed, visitor\'s chair.





Severus closed his lust-filled black eyes, and shifted uncomfortably on his cot.





Merlin\'s balls! The chit had lean, tawny, legs that went all the way from the floor straight up to heaven! Severus Snape always had been a \'leg\' man. He inadvertently licked his dry lips, glanced longingly at those luscious long legs, and cut his guilt-ridden gaze away from her.





Miss Granger was as good as promised to the younger Weasley prat. What a waste of superior intellect, as well as beautiful womanhood, to be sentenced to popping out a baby every year or two, barefoot, and browbeaten into becoming just another Molly.





It would take a miracle to have her look at him as anything except an ugly old man and her former teacher. Miracles were as rare a creature as Crumple-horned Snorkacks in Severus Snape\'s life; he didn\'t believe in them either.





He cut his onyx eyes back one last time to those luscious, shapely legs, then allowed his eyes to slowly drift again up her svelte body; they finally came to rest on her beautiful oval face for a long moment. Even though he didn\'t believe in them, Severus Snape found himself praying for a miracle all the same.





All he needed was a viable plan for wooing this desirable, intelligent, witch away from the red-haired clod.





Severus cleared his throat, and tentatively popped the question, "Miss Granger? Should a miracle occur, and I am cleared by the Wizengamot, would you consider taking on an apprenticeship in Potions with me?" There. That should neatly do the trick.





Surely the insufferable, delectable, know-it-all couldn\'t possibly turn down the very first apprenticeship that Severus Raphael Snape, Potions Master First Class, had ever offered in all his years of teaching.





Time and togetherness should eventually allow him the opportunity to steal the witch right out from under the Weasel\'s stupid, long, pointy nose.





Besides, Severus sensed that there was something just \'not quite right\' with the youngest Weasley son; whatever it was had eluded him, due to the stress and complexity of the past several years of spying, running, hiding, and fighting against the Dark Lord.





But it was clearly there.





He\'d make it his business to find out exactly what it was, later, after Miss Granger quit gaping at him like a speechless fish and accepted his offer of apprenticeship. Rather, he\'d make it his business if he wasn\'t sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban, or having his dark soul sucked out, that is.





"Oh my! YES, SIR! I\'d be honored to become your apprentice, Professor Snape!" Miss Hermione Jean Granger excitedly exclaimed, after she finally recovered from her stunned speechlessness. She even leapt up, and threw her arms around the hopeful Potions Master in her thrilled fervour.





\'Yes, this could all work out splendidly!\' Severus smugly thought, as he relished the feel of her warm young curves pressed so wondrously tight against his chest even as he pushed away the young woman\'s impetuous embrace.





"Gryffindor\'s. Always a bloody nuisance!" he growled aloud, pleased beyond belief inside.









s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s









Harry Potter shook with a cold fury that rivaled his experience of being possessed by Voldemort, in the Ministry battle during his Fifth year attending Hogwarts, when he stepped back through the sitting room fireplace of Grimmauld Place.





Only his memories of his loving friends had saved him from total surrender to Darkness then. Now, Harry doubted if anything could save him.





He\'d been born to be a hero. What had ever made him believe that he could finally be happy and free? To finally, at last, be allowed to be . . . \'just Harry\'?





Dear merciful gods! Please let it all be some horrible misunderstanding! Please do not allow this terrible, sick, nightmare to be true!





Harry cocked his head to the side, and carefully listened to what the creaking sounds of the old Black house were telling him.





Oh sweet Merlin. He\'d heard that sound before, the \'thump-thumpity-thump\' of a headboard against a wall. The rhythmic groaning squeaks of old bedsprings, straining under a load too heavy to bear.





Ron had become obsessed with sex during their Third year at Hogwarts. He wanked off several times throughout the day, during class breaks, and at least twice each night. The banging, creaking sounds brought back memories of Ron\'s sneaking Lavender Brown into their room, using Harry\'s Invisibility Cloak, and screwing her behind the thin privacy of his bed curtains after curfew.





It made Harry flush in guilty, gut-churning, self-loathing that the sounds of their moaning as well as the shaking, thumping of Ron\'s bed, had actually turned him on. Harry had wanked off, himself, to the erotic music of Ron and Lav mating late into the night.





But this was different. Vastly, sickly, different. Ginny was his SISTER, by all that was holy!





Lids, heavy with bitter sadness, slowly closed over tear-filled, agonized, emerald eyes. Trembling hands pulled his shrunken Invisibility Cloak from his pocket, and Harry quietly \'Engorgio\'d it, then covered himself with it.





Harry slowly began to climb the staircase with leaden feet, following the music of perversion that drifted from the bedroom down the hall; the steady thumping of the bed against the wall, the protesting bedsprings, creak-squeaking, and now--oh gods no!--he could finally make out Ron\'s voice cursing over Ginny\'s quiet sobs.





"You fucking whore! Tried to run from me, didn\'t you, BITCH! Take it! Fuck me, you stupid worthless piece of shit little cunt! That\'s all you\'re good for anyway, fucking cocks, you filthy useless whore! I. SAID. TAKE. IT!" Ron\'s hateful curses poured their venom over his weeping little sister, him steadily pounding into her most private place, as Ginny just laid there, forced into this abomination by her brother\'s superior physical strength and her shame.





Laid there, with her anguished honey-brown eyes streaming hot tears of humiliation and pain into her long auburn hair. Laid there, while Ron\'s white freckled arse humped furiously up and down, and his short, thick, cock pumped in and out of her ravaged, dry, torn, femininity.





Harry stood frozen in place under the safety of his Dad\'s old cloak, his mind screaming for his body to move, to jerk Ron off of Ginny, to knock his arse out, to . . . dear gods this simply can\'t be happening! Not to Ginny! Not by Ron!





The mere seconds that ticked by felt like an eternity, but Harry\'s body refused to move, to respond, to help. He stood, rooted to the spot in his shock and horror, just as surely as if a \'Petrificus Totalus\' had hit him. It was rather like watching a massive, deadly, train wreck. You know that loss of life is sure to be happening in a most violent, hideous manner, but you simply can\'t look away.





Even Harry\'s hearing shut down, unwilling to listen to the filth spewing out of Ron\'s twisted, sneering mouth any longer. All he heard was his own heart hammering violently within his aching chest, as it broke into a thousand brittle shards, and the fierce roar of hot blood furiously pounding inside his ears.





When Ronald Weasley finally climaxed, he slapped Ginny\'s chalk-white face as hard as he could for not fucking him back, for just lying there like a lump of mud. The slap spun her head to the side, and Ron laughed at the huge bright-red handprint it left behind.





That was when Harry Potter regained the use of his limbs; it had taken the resounding \'smack\', echoing past him down the hall to break the horrible frozen silence that had paralyzed him.





The Invisibility Cloak fell to the floor at his feet, and Ron suddenly saw his one-time best friend standing there, just inside the open bedroom door. Ron also saw his death in Harry\'s furious, burning, emerald eyes.





Ron leapt from the bed, a thin smear of Ginny\'s unwilling blood clinging to his rapidly shrinking cock, as he frantically searched for his wand. "It\'s not what it looks like Harry!" was the last lie he\'d ever tell.





Harry slowly raised his wand, and calmly uttered two words, "Avada Kedavra!"





Ronald Weasley hit the floor, his stark naked body still faintly glowing with the green phosphorescence from the power of Harry\'s Killing Curse.





Ginny Weasley jerked the cum-and-blood stained, crumpled, sheet tightly up against her bruised breasts, attempting to hide her shamed nudity as well as her injured private parts from her saviour, Harry Potter.





She was torn; gratitude beyond belief that it was finally over flooding her every sense, warring within her against what should have been the heartbreaking loss of yet another brother\'s life. She was finally free . . . but at what price?





Dear gods! That horrified look on Harry\'s face! Ginny\'s tears of humiliation slowly morphed into great gut-wrenching sobs of loss, because of the unendurable pain now shimmering in Harry\'s tear-filled eyes. His beautiful, haunted, emerald green eyes met her embarrassed, anguished topaz eyes for a long sad moment, before he looked away; he\'d never be able to look at Ginny the same way again . . . ever.





Ginny\'s nightmare was over at last. Hermione was free from her nightmare ever beginning. Ronald Weasley was as dead as yesterday\'s news.





Harry sank down on the worn, thread-bare carpet of the bedroom floor, and bowed his unruly dark head as he wept, his own sobs playing counter-point to Ginny\'s wails. He silently prayed for oblivion from the knowledge of this forbidden Secret, and waited for the Aurors to come for him.





Harry Potter\'s last act of heroism was finally complete.







fin









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A/A/N: I chose the plot of this story to give a voice to the Silent Sisterhood, to all those who have survived being sexually abused or molested, at some point in their life, by a trusted family member.



You are not alone. You are legion, and remain in my constant prayers.



Most humbly yours,



Victoria Prince, author



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