100 Ways to Kill a Weasley

Ron was incredulous. How could the greasy git have survived? It was impossible! Yet, there he was, the old bastard, sitting next to an enraptured Hermione looking up at him, her eyes wide with interest, as he spoke of the adventures they would have during her apprenticeship to him.



Adventures, ha! Ron knew just what sort of “adventures” the old bat had in mind, and he only had 2 weeks to convince Hermione not to go away. If adventure was what she wanted, he’d plan the most thrilling adventures for the two of them that she’d never want to leave him. She’d forget the stupid git, and his stupid books, and his stupid experiments, and all his stupid plans.



Ron leafed through one of those stupid books of Snape’s that was lying open on the table. He absently flipped the pages as he watched Hermione scoot closer to Snape to make room for Luna on the bench beside her. As Hermione’s shoulder melted into Snape’s and as his arm surreptitiously slipped behind her, the old bat had the audacity to look up at Ron and smirk. Smirk! That filthy bastard!



Ron’s face burned and he looked down at the book in front of him, violently turning the pages, taking perverse pleasure in the sound of the antique paper ripping. He glanced up at Snape to see his smirk fade into an annoyed glare at the treatment of his property, and felt a tiny bit satisfied.



Ron glanced back down at the book and a picture caught his eye. A woman stared longing and adoring at a man who was presenting her with flowers; The Votumis Majoris. The notation below the photo noted the power of the dark flowers to create love slaves by shutting down the higher functioning areas of the brain, in most cases permanently. They amaze and ensnare women into falling passionately and mindlessly in love with the giver.



Mindlessly? That was Hermione’s problem, she thought too much. If she stopped thinking so much she’d forget all about greasy old Snape’s offer to see the world and develop new potions. She’d stay home with him, get married, and have his babies. He just needed to find these flowers, and just his luck, they are known to grow inside the forbidden forest.



Late that evening, Ron slipped quietly out the back door of 12 Grimmauld Place, mounted his broom and flew to the Forbidden Forest. For the first time in his life, he had no fear of this place. He’d seen, fought, and conquered the worst the wizarding world had to offer when he helped Harry defeat Voldemort.



He poked around the underbrush with his wand for an agonizingly long time until he finally spotted a tiny thatch of the coveted blossoms poking out of twirling green brambles on the forest floor. Impetuous as always, Ron rushed in to pluck the flowers.



Just as he ripped the first bunch of Votumis Majoris up by the root, he felt the cool, firm grip of the surrounding brambles as they wound about his legs. He abruptly dropped the flowers and his wand in the process of prying the grabby vines off his calves. As his fingers dug into the vines, more shoots appeared, quickly wrapping around his wrists, winding up his arms, and toppling him to the ground.



Devil’s Snare, he realized as clouds drifted over the moon and he was swallowed by the pitch and unyielding grip of the plant as it wound its way around his torso, his head, and, oh gods, his throat. His last thought was of Hermione, and how it was always her quick thinking, her utter brilliance, that had kept him from succumbing to such a fate sooner. The guilt swept over his fear of death as he realized he deserved no better than this for trying to wipe away that brilliance in order to selfishly keep her from realizing her dreams and not trusting her to return to him as she promised. And, thus, Ronald Weasly went quietly into the night.



It was four days later that Snape, Harry, and Hermione found his body, pale, and bloated, on the forest floor. Hermione shrieked and ran to his side, blasting the curling vines with jets of fire from the tip of her wand. The bunch of Votumis Majoris he had pulled up lay withering and wilting at his side, his dead, clouded eyes fixed sadly upon them.



“What was he doing here?” she whispered between her quite sobs.



Harry looked at Ron’s face, at the flowers, and at the torn leaf of old paper poking from his muddy back pocket. He knelt next to Hermione and gingerly tugged the page from Ron’s pocket.



Snape hissed indignantly. He knew at once that not only had the stupid redhead defiled one of his most precious and ancient tomes, but he had done so in the pursuit of abusing Miss Granger. His Miss Granger.



“What is it, Sir?” Harry asked as he unfolded the ruined page.



“It appears that Mr. Weasly was on a mission to procure the Votumis Majoris,” he nodded to the flowers.



Hermione sucked in a breath. She knew exactly what the flowers were meant for.



Severus felt his chest swell with pride even as his stomach clenched at the sight of her pain.



“Why?” she asked, tears dribbling down her cheeks, “Why would he want to do that to me? I loved him.”



Harry finished reading what he could of the page, looked sadly at Ron and replied, “He told me he didn’t want you to go away on your apprenticeship. He was jealous and scared. He was sure that Professor Snape would seduce you, that you’d fall in love and never come back.”



“The typically ignorant, desperate, and delusional thinking I‘ve grown accustomed to seeing from Weasly,” Snape hissed, “But no matter what he thought, there is no excuse for setting out to turn Hermione into a mindless sex slave. It was a disgusting, callous, and cruel thing he was doing here, and I dare say he got his just desserts.”



Harry’s shoulders stiffened at Snape’s insult. His strong sense of loyalty demanded that he defend his friend, but the look on Ron’s face stopped him. “Yes, sir,” he replied despairingly, “I know it was, and I think that in the end, so did he.”



Hermione looked horrified, torn between sorrow and animosity. She glanced up at Snape, her eyes red rimmed and welling with fresh tears. He looked back at her, his eyes fathomless pools of black.



After what seemed like an eternity lost in his eyes, she discovered his hand reaching out to her, motioning for her to take it and rise from the ground. She slipped her cold, trembling hand into his warm and confident grasp, and he gently pulled her to her feet and began leading her out of the forest while Harry trailed behind, his wand fixed on the levitated body of his dear friend.



The grieving of the Weasly clan was almost too much to bear. They had lost so much in such a short amount of time. Upon hearing the news, Molly fell to her knees, quaking, wailing and cursing the boy for leaving her. “How dare you?” she screamed, fists clenched, pounding the floor as if it were his chest, “How dare you leave me after all I’ve done for you! After all I‘ve been through already!” Arthur knelt beside her, cradled her in his arms and together they rocked, sobbed, and clutched one another tightly. Percy, Bill, and Charlie handled most of the arrangements while Ginny tended to their stricken parents and George remained locked in his room, refusing to see anyone until the day of the burial.



Out of respect for Arthur, Molly, Harry, and Hermione, it was impossible for Severus to skip the services for the redheaded menace. He could almost feel the resentment Ron had for him rolling toward him in waves from the cherry wood casket. Snape braced himself and looked as stoic as ever when Hermione glanced at him from her place at the graveside.



After an agonizingly long eulogy, did everyone need to say something about the little wanker? and a quick appearance at the Burrow, Severus was finally free from duty and was the first to head down the drive to the apparition point.



“Professor,” Hermione called to his retreating back.



He turned to face her, his mouth suddenly dry and heart hammering in his chest.



“Yes, Miss Granger?” he answered as he watched her hurried steps close the distance between them.



She paused a few paces away, suddenly unsure of herself. They remained for a moment, eyes locked. Worried he may lose his composure, or indeed his entire self, in that mesmerizing gaze of hers, he cocked his brow in question as to why she had halted his much wanted and well deserved exit.



“Sir, I … I wanted to thank you for coming today. I know you didn’t care for Ronald, and frankly, I have had some very mixed feelings about him lately myself, but I know that it means a lot to Mr. and Mrs. Weasly that you came to pay your respects anyway. And it means a lot to me.”



She paused again, and gave him a worried glance. He had no idea what to say to her. ‘Your welcome’ seemed a bit hollow considering the circumstances of Ron’s death and the loaded silence that had remained between them since that moment in the forest when her eyes questioned whether or not it was possible that Ron saw something that she had not. Severus did not want to visit that moment again, especially not now. Not in the very shadow of the Burrow, and not when the puffiness around her eyes came from tears she had shed for him, that freckled fraud.



“Is that all, Miss Granger.”



She shook her head no, but her words completely failed her, leaving her staring up at him dumbly. He turned to go, and just as he apparated away, she grabbed his arm and felt herself pressed against him for one painful second before they fell apart in his bedroom at Spinners End.



“Miss Granger!” he gasped, “What is the meaning of this?”



“I’m sorry, sir, but I couldn’t let you go before we cleared the air,” she began rambling quickly, “It’s been a week since … it happened, and we’ve not spoken at all. I need to know, are you still willing to have me as your apprentice, or has this situation changed things? If so, is it what Harry said about Ron’s suspicions? Because I don’t believe you would do such a thing, even if you ever could want me, which I know is impossible. It was, as you said, ignorant and delusional ... ”



“I did not imply that he was ignorant or delusional to think that I could ever want you, Miss Granger. Do not misunderstand me on this. He was delusional and ignorant to think that enslaving you was the answer to his problem. He was correct in assuming that I wanted you for more than just my apprentice, I as much as told him so the night he destroyed my book and then set out to destroy your mind.”



“You … you wanted me?” she stammered.



“Wanted you, yes, and want you still,” he added, stiffening to prepare for the blow of rejection.



It didn’t come. She appeared utterly shell shocked, but not at all displeased or disgusted.



He took one step forward, and she one step back. The back of her knees hit his bed and she collapsed upon it, her eyes wide and mouth opened in a little “o.”



“Any man who doesn’t find you utterly charming, lovely, and brilliant is either blind or a fool, and I assure you, Miss Granger, I am neither,” he added as he sat down beside her.



“And you told Ronald?” she asked the floor, unable to look him in the eye as the nervous tremors of her fingers suddenly shot to her core. Gods, she was on his bed! They were on his bed! Could she really want this?



“Not in words, no, but he knew. I’m only sorry that I didn’t think he would use dark magic to keep you, let alone something as horribly impairing as Votumis Majoris. After all, as lovely as you are, it is your mind that is your most valuable and alluring attribute.”



Oh, gods, what a compliment. “Ronald never thought so,” she said breathlessly.



“Obviously,” he intoned softly, “He wouldn’t have sought to lobotomize you otherwise.”



She stared down at her feet, feeling the hurt and anger over what Ron had done wash over her anew. How could he be so callous? And after all they had been through. He always had a vengeful streak and was quick to mistrust and abuse her and Harry when he felt slighted. But this? This was too much! He had the page from the book, so he knew exactly what he was doing to her. A mindless sex slave, that was what he wanted.



Severus wanted her because of her mind, not despite it. But how did she feel about him? She looked up to find him studying her and returned the action. She took in his proud posture, porcelain complexion, shiny black hair, beaky nose, softly fading frown line that had for many years creased his brow, and, of course, those dark, enigmatic eyes.



She had always respected him and had danced with glee when she got his response to her request to be his apprentice. The end of his service to Voldemort had changed him completely. Sure, he could still be a surly git at times, especially when it came to Harry, who wouldn’t leave him alone for weeks after the final battle. But for the most part he was quiet and studious, spending much of his time experimenting with new potions. And when they were alone he had even smiled and told jokes. Professor Snape telling jokes!



At this thought she unconsciously smiled at him. He let out the breath he had been holding, taking her distracted smile as encouragement for his feelings, and returning her smile with one of his own so charming and boyish that her heart skipped a beat.



And then he kissed her.



Oh gods!



She felt an explosion of passion wash over her and settle deliciously between her thighs.



She kissed him back.



‘Oh my, there is definitely something here,’ she thought as she deepened the kiss and encouraged his roaming hands with a moan. ‘How odd that Ronald would be the first to see it,’ her mental commentary continued as they pealed off their clothes. ‘Funnier still that his vicious, desperate, bungling attempt to block it was what brought it to fruition,’ she concluded as she wrapped her thighs around his waist and welcomed Severus home.



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a huge thank you to Ms.Figg and all the other authors! xoxo - slash