100 Ways to Kill a Weasley
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
93
Views:
41,807
Reviews:
236
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
93
Views:
41,807
Reviews:
236
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
From Russia With Love?
Russia pg. 3491
This is a land of snow and deadly winters, but also of rivers that meander across meadows and a midsummer sun that never sets. Its people, in the words of a Russian proverb, \'love to suffer\', yet they also love to party and can be disarmingly generous and hospitable.
Caligo Cassandre idly tossed a lock of her thick red hair behind her shoulder as she perused the passage, not noticing an icy stare shooting daggers at her from behind the library counter. Shutting the tome, Caligo stood and marched toward the temporary librarian, Miss Granger. Setting the travel guide down along with Russian Racehorses, Hermione put a mask of indifference on. “These seem interesting.”
“Yeah, I think Severus and I are going to spend a month in Galendzhik. But I haven’t made up my mind if we’re going to visit Moscow as well.”
“Fascinating…” Hermione articulated dryly as she rolled her eyes. Caligo, in her pre-nuptial bliss didn’t seem to notice.
The fairly unattractive woman floated out of the library. Hermione just didn’t understand it. Severus wanted her: crooked nose, crooked legs, crooked scoliosis spine?! Sure, she wasn’t dumb, by any means, in fact, the two had met at a Potions conference catered to by Potions Today! Weekly. No, she had just graduated from the Université de Jehenne de Brigue in Versailles in journalism and was covering the event for her hot-off-the-press employer, the Daily Prophet.
But she was no race winner as far as Hermione was concerned, and she was much too unattractive and stupid for Snape to marry. This couldn’t happen. Hermione slammed her book down by its straight, rigid spine and didn’t seem to notice the sixth years in the corner that all jumped at her outburst. Standing, Hermione didn’t even raise her eyes to the students, just waved them out with their books, “Well? Get a move on, I’m closing the library early tonight.”
The five chastised students found themselves left high and dry the night before their Transfiguration finals. Greta Schaller looked at her watch and then the receding substitute librarian and went, “Shit, I still needed to check out Chin Charming.”
Knocking at Severus’ office door, Hermione suddenly felt acute apprehension. She couldn’t tell him. It had been so long and awkward already. He would figure out that she had only cultivated a friendship with him because she wanted something more. And he was happy now. She was supposed to be happy with Ron.
The bottom line was that he would deny her. It wasn’t the same when a man loved a woman who was involved. The woman at least heard her unlucky beau out before considering briefly if he was a better match and then kicking him out. Men were either the type to jump in bed with anyone, or to remain loyal to the first ugly dog to spread her legs. Opening the door a crack, Severus’ nose and eye peered out at her. “Oh, it’s you. Come on in, Hermione.”
He pulled out her chair and motioned for her to take a seat as he whipped around his desk and took his. “Just dropping by? Or do you need another perusal of my library?” He smirked casually at her, then frowned as he watched her wring her hands.
“Is something wrong?”
Hermione bit her lip, “No, nothing’s wrong. I was just dropping by to see how you were.”
“I’m fine,” he turned his head to the side before saying, “Winky?”
A small, doily-encased house elf appeared, “Yes, sir?”
“Get me and Miss Granger some tea, if you could.”
Hermione smiled. “Thank you.”
Within another awkward thirty seconds of silence, Winky came back bearing tea which they both uneasily sipped. Hermione set hers down, about to open her mouth when Severus asked, “How is your apprenticeship under Filius coming?”
“Only a few more weeks and I’ll be certified.”
“What was that latest contraption you helped to create?”
“Oh,” she smiled, “The Sponge Cap? The ministry applauded it, then banned it until further testing could be done. They said it could possibly cram too much information into the brain for it to process properly, causing insanity.”
“Lovely.”
“Severus?”
“Yes?”
She caught herself before breathing, “I love you.”
Severus set his tea down, then turned away, toward the fire in his hearth. Before licking his lips, he started to turn back. He tried to articulate a coherent sentence a few times, but didn’t seem to be able to. Finally, after much deliberation, he got out, “You know I’m to be married in three weeks.”
“Yes.”
“You know I love Caligo very much.”
Angrily, her knuckles were white as she clenched the fabric of her skirt, “Yes.”
“I’m flattered, Hermione, but-”
“Flattered? FLATTERED. Okay. Fine. I know what that means,” she stood resolutely and threw the office door open on her way out. Severus winced at the crack of wood against stone, but picked up his tea and continued drinking, staring into the fire for most of the night.
* * *
In three weeks, Hermione sat at her vanity, avoiding looking out on the sun-kissed grounds, knowing just outside her window they were setting up for the wedding . One leg was propped up on the drawers, the other was entangled in the rung beneath the chair. She looked beautiful in her white, silken nightgown, but also unhinged. Dark circles ruled her face, she didn’t want to sleep when her dreams were all about Severus. Her hair hung down straight. She still wasn’t sure if she was going to the wedding or not, but she straightened her hair in case.
Ron walked in, wearing a nice suit, adjusting his tie. “Oy, woman. Why aren’t you getting ready?”
“Let’s not go, Ron,” she looked stoically at him and he almost relented in self-interest before going, “I have to go, Mum will be there, and everyone expects us to go. If you’re not feeling up to it, I can make an excuse for you.”
“No, there’s no excuse. I don’t want to go.”
Ron sat down on the bed a few feet from her. “If it’s wedding-envy, we can move ours up a few years,” he smiled teasingly.
Hermione fiddled with her hair brush unmoved before Ron’s face went serious. “You know. I tried not to see it. Not to get cynical. I wanted to be idealistic of us. But I’ve come to terms with you loving him. I wish you could love me the same way, I give you everything in me, but you don’t.”
He stared at the floor unblinkingly, “Why don’t you love me, ‘Mione?”
“I do love you, Ron. Not the same way-”
“Not the same fiendish obsession-”
“No, not the same obsession, but I do love you. And I wish I was capable of obsessing over you the way I have over him. But I think, at this point, that I don’t have anything left in my heart that’s not twisted and sick. I’m sorry.”
Neither spoke for a few minutes, then Ron got up and when the door clicked shut, Hermione decided to get ready for the wedding.
* * *
No one would have thought to see her that she wasn’t the happiest woman on the Earth. On the debonair and much sought-after Mr. Weasley’s arm, Hermione looked even more stunning. His blue suit perfectly complimented her cobalt dress. Taking their seats, Ron hadn’t noticed that her fist was clamped like a vise around the base of her wand. Yet.
It was somewhere around “If anyone should have any objections to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace,” that he noted Hermione rising. They were in the last row, so no commotion began in the crowd. Ron grabbed her arms and wrestled her back to her seat. “What are you doing?”
She threw him up again, and gave him a blood chilling smile. “I’m just going to give her a nasty hex is all. She really doesn’t need her left arm. She doesn’t!”
After that it all seemed to happen so fast. The people in the stands gasped, Hermione presumed it was at her exclamation, but in all reality, no one had heard that. They were engrossed in the fact that Severus had kissed Caligo, before telling her that he was in love with someone else that he never thought possible to attain. They didn’t hear Hermione shriek until it was too late, after Ron slipped on the hem of her blue dress and a stake bearing up the ribbon decorations was impaled right through both sides of his blue suit.
Hermione fell back, sobbing uncontrollably as the stunned mob turned around to scream at the horrific scene behind them. When questioning her as to what happened, all she could say was that, “He had felt funny all morning, something about whatever he ate. I was just trying to help him up, he kept falling over, and then he slipped on my dress…”
Not wanting to waste reservations to Russia, Severus thought that perhaps he ought to take Hermione, only to “relieve her from the tragedy now surrounding her life”.
This is a land of snow and deadly winters, but also of rivers that meander across meadows and a midsummer sun that never sets. Its people, in the words of a Russian proverb, \'love to suffer\', yet they also love to party and can be disarmingly generous and hospitable.
Caligo Cassandre idly tossed a lock of her thick red hair behind her shoulder as she perused the passage, not noticing an icy stare shooting daggers at her from behind the library counter. Shutting the tome, Caligo stood and marched toward the temporary librarian, Miss Granger. Setting the travel guide down along with Russian Racehorses, Hermione put a mask of indifference on. “These seem interesting.”
“Yeah, I think Severus and I are going to spend a month in Galendzhik. But I haven’t made up my mind if we’re going to visit Moscow as well.”
“Fascinating…” Hermione articulated dryly as she rolled her eyes. Caligo, in her pre-nuptial bliss didn’t seem to notice.
The fairly unattractive woman floated out of the library. Hermione just didn’t understand it. Severus wanted her: crooked nose, crooked legs, crooked scoliosis spine?! Sure, she wasn’t dumb, by any means, in fact, the two had met at a Potions conference catered to by Potions Today! Weekly. No, she had just graduated from the Université de Jehenne de Brigue in Versailles in journalism and was covering the event for her hot-off-the-press employer, the Daily Prophet.
But she was no race winner as far as Hermione was concerned, and she was much too unattractive and stupid for Snape to marry. This couldn’t happen. Hermione slammed her book down by its straight, rigid spine and didn’t seem to notice the sixth years in the corner that all jumped at her outburst. Standing, Hermione didn’t even raise her eyes to the students, just waved them out with their books, “Well? Get a move on, I’m closing the library early tonight.”
The five chastised students found themselves left high and dry the night before their Transfiguration finals. Greta Schaller looked at her watch and then the receding substitute librarian and went, “Shit, I still needed to check out Chin Charming.”
Knocking at Severus’ office door, Hermione suddenly felt acute apprehension. She couldn’t tell him. It had been so long and awkward already. He would figure out that she had only cultivated a friendship with him because she wanted something more. And he was happy now. She was supposed to be happy with Ron.
The bottom line was that he would deny her. It wasn’t the same when a man loved a woman who was involved. The woman at least heard her unlucky beau out before considering briefly if he was a better match and then kicking him out. Men were either the type to jump in bed with anyone, or to remain loyal to the first ugly dog to spread her legs. Opening the door a crack, Severus’ nose and eye peered out at her. “Oh, it’s you. Come on in, Hermione.”
He pulled out her chair and motioned for her to take a seat as he whipped around his desk and took his. “Just dropping by? Or do you need another perusal of my library?” He smirked casually at her, then frowned as he watched her wring her hands.
“Is something wrong?”
Hermione bit her lip, “No, nothing’s wrong. I was just dropping by to see how you were.”
“I’m fine,” he turned his head to the side before saying, “Winky?”
A small, doily-encased house elf appeared, “Yes, sir?”
“Get me and Miss Granger some tea, if you could.”
Hermione smiled. “Thank you.”
Within another awkward thirty seconds of silence, Winky came back bearing tea which they both uneasily sipped. Hermione set hers down, about to open her mouth when Severus asked, “How is your apprenticeship under Filius coming?”
“Only a few more weeks and I’ll be certified.”
“What was that latest contraption you helped to create?”
“Oh,” she smiled, “The Sponge Cap? The ministry applauded it, then banned it until further testing could be done. They said it could possibly cram too much information into the brain for it to process properly, causing insanity.”
“Lovely.”
“Severus?”
“Yes?”
She caught herself before breathing, “I love you.”
Severus set his tea down, then turned away, toward the fire in his hearth. Before licking his lips, he started to turn back. He tried to articulate a coherent sentence a few times, but didn’t seem to be able to. Finally, after much deliberation, he got out, “You know I’m to be married in three weeks.”
“Yes.”
“You know I love Caligo very much.”
Angrily, her knuckles were white as she clenched the fabric of her skirt, “Yes.”
“I’m flattered, Hermione, but-”
“Flattered? FLATTERED. Okay. Fine. I know what that means,” she stood resolutely and threw the office door open on her way out. Severus winced at the crack of wood against stone, but picked up his tea and continued drinking, staring into the fire for most of the night.
* * *
In three weeks, Hermione sat at her vanity, avoiding looking out on the sun-kissed grounds, knowing just outside her window they were setting up for the wedding . One leg was propped up on the drawers, the other was entangled in the rung beneath the chair. She looked beautiful in her white, silken nightgown, but also unhinged. Dark circles ruled her face, she didn’t want to sleep when her dreams were all about Severus. Her hair hung down straight. She still wasn’t sure if she was going to the wedding or not, but she straightened her hair in case.
Ron walked in, wearing a nice suit, adjusting his tie. “Oy, woman. Why aren’t you getting ready?”
“Let’s not go, Ron,” she looked stoically at him and he almost relented in self-interest before going, “I have to go, Mum will be there, and everyone expects us to go. If you’re not feeling up to it, I can make an excuse for you.”
“No, there’s no excuse. I don’t want to go.”
Ron sat down on the bed a few feet from her. “If it’s wedding-envy, we can move ours up a few years,” he smiled teasingly.
Hermione fiddled with her hair brush unmoved before Ron’s face went serious. “You know. I tried not to see it. Not to get cynical. I wanted to be idealistic of us. But I’ve come to terms with you loving him. I wish you could love me the same way, I give you everything in me, but you don’t.”
He stared at the floor unblinkingly, “Why don’t you love me, ‘Mione?”
“I do love you, Ron. Not the same way-”
“Not the same fiendish obsession-”
“No, not the same obsession, but I do love you. And I wish I was capable of obsessing over you the way I have over him. But I think, at this point, that I don’t have anything left in my heart that’s not twisted and sick. I’m sorry.”
Neither spoke for a few minutes, then Ron got up and when the door clicked shut, Hermione decided to get ready for the wedding.
* * *
No one would have thought to see her that she wasn’t the happiest woman on the Earth. On the debonair and much sought-after Mr. Weasley’s arm, Hermione looked even more stunning. His blue suit perfectly complimented her cobalt dress. Taking their seats, Ron hadn’t noticed that her fist was clamped like a vise around the base of her wand. Yet.
It was somewhere around “If anyone should have any objections to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace,” that he noted Hermione rising. They were in the last row, so no commotion began in the crowd. Ron grabbed her arms and wrestled her back to her seat. “What are you doing?”
She threw him up again, and gave him a blood chilling smile. “I’m just going to give her a nasty hex is all. She really doesn’t need her left arm. She doesn’t!”
After that it all seemed to happen so fast. The people in the stands gasped, Hermione presumed it was at her exclamation, but in all reality, no one had heard that. They were engrossed in the fact that Severus had kissed Caligo, before telling her that he was in love with someone else that he never thought possible to attain. They didn’t hear Hermione shriek until it was too late, after Ron slipped on the hem of her blue dress and a stake bearing up the ribbon decorations was impaled right through both sides of his blue suit.
Hermione fell back, sobbing uncontrollably as the stunned mob turned around to scream at the horrific scene behind them. When questioning her as to what happened, all she could say was that, “He had felt funny all morning, something about whatever he ate. I was just trying to help him up, he kept falling over, and then he slipped on my dress…”
Not wanting to waste reservations to Russia, Severus thought that perhaps he ought to take Hermione, only to “relieve her from the tragedy now surrounding her life”.