100 Ways to Kill a Weasley

Thanks to Ms_Figg for starting this round robin and enticing me into writing a character I've not yet been able to master. So I hope you enjoy my take of killing Ronald Weasley (which I firmly believe should have taken place in DH) Thanks to my long suffering beta sirsevchick :D So here it is...


The Obstacle

His pale fingers stirred the cauldron with effortless precision and she found herself staring at his arms flexing from controlling the stirring rod. He was glorious in his element, black robes fit snugly to his lean, lithe body, dark hair falling about his shoulders in what would appear to be greasy strands but were actually soft and silky to the touch. His mouth, one she loved kissing so often and could cause her to lose control with its wicked crude words, was pursed in concentration, the last stages of the potion vital to their success.

No one could have guessed that this was how her life would have turned out; sitting in her former Potions classroom wearing a see-through nightie, waiting anxiously to see if their experiment would yield results.

It had been her own fault really, jumping into a situation with her heart and refusing to listen to the nagging voice (sounding oddly like Remus) in the back of her mind, screaming to stop and think.

As per usual she had been extremely stubborn and bound herself to Ronald Weasley only to find out on their honeymoon that his ideas of marriage were far different to her own. He actually expected his new bride to stay at home and keep a neat and tidy house while he went off and fought dark wizards with Harry.

In true Ronald-Weasley-Ignorance, he hadn’t noticed the utter devastation in his wife’s eyes nor did he notice when she sunk into a deep depression. Hermione thought her life to be over, popping out red haired babies and growing fat, she would be a mini-Molly, and that thought alone propelled the young witch to find something to do with her life that didn’t revolve around Ron. He wasn’t convinced and took a lot of persuading and effort on Hermione’s part to get the smallest of jobs working the cash register at a popular Apothecary in Hogsmeade.

“Sickle for your thoughts?”

She blinked, clearing the glaze from her eyes and met the fathomless black orbs of her lover.

“How we found each other,” she replied softly and jumped off his desk, walking slowly towards him and the simmering cauldron. “How we fell in love.”

She ran her fingers down the dozens of buttons holding his robes together. His hands darted out and yanked her forward, pulling her hard against his chest.

“It wasn’t love at first,” he said silkily. “I believe it was mindless fucking.”

Hermione blushed and was unable to tear her gaze from his.

“I did enjoy the mindless fucking, Severus.”

“Hmmm…” Severus smirked and dipped his head, running his tongue along her bottom lip. “Mindless fucking was indeed enjoyable . . . my desk has never recovered.”

Her flush increased but she still kept their eyes locked.

“Neither has the owlery.”

Severus chuckled deeply and wrapped his fingers in her long curly locks.

“Nor the elves in the kitchen.”

“You are insatiable,” she accused and slipped her leg between his thighs, moving it slowly along his burgeoning erection.

“You are a whore,” he replied and hissed when her knee pressed against his crotch.

“I am what you made me.” she hissed as he pulled on her hair hard, baring her neck to his eager lips.

“You were wasted on Weasley,” his voice spread over her body like warm melted chocolate and she shivered as his tongue drew a lazy path up her neck. “They will accuse me of drugging you.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered and arched up as he nipped her ear. “I love you.”

“So you do,” he murmured and slipped the nightie off her shoulders, the cool air from the dungeon instantly hardening her nipples. “Once the potion turns yellow we must act quickly, he will have to be dosed every morning for a week. Do you believe yourself up to the task?”

“We’ve been through this already, Severus,” she hissed through clenched teeth as his fingers delved between her thighs.

“My little know-it-all,” he smirked again, roughly pushing two fingers inside her willing body. “If I had known about your deviant little desires when you were a student . . .”

He let the sentence hang in the air and palmed her breast.

“I would never have looked at you then,” she said and whimpered when he gave her a hard shove, sending her flying backwards onto the student’s desk.

“Why is that?”

“You were my teacher!”

He chuckled again, the dark rumble sending shivers up her spine. “

That wouldn’t have stopped me. I’ve seen inside that mind of yours, I’ve seen what you desire and the fantasies you had as a student. The first memory you must have been only fifteen. Your rear was red from my spanking you, your cunt dripping from my voice alone…do you remember?”

Hermione whimpered and spread her legs wider as he unbuckled his pants and parted his robes.

“I remember.”

“Good girl . . . my beautiful whore.”

He towered over her body and she cried out with need as his hands gripped her thighs. She was still amazed after all these years how he managed to turn a crude, offensive word into an endearment.

“You will dose the boy and then we can be together.”

Hermione nodded, feeling a tiny pang of guilt as what she was about to do.

“It won’t hurt him will it?”

Severus threw his head back and laughed. It was a beautiful sound coming from a man so sarcastic and acerbic. None were privileged enough to see him in this setting, these moments were private and for her alone.

“More than pushing out ten red-haired dunderheads?”

“I suppose not,” she sighed and reached for him, running her fingers through his hair. “It must be done.”

“Why you bound yourself to that oaf I’ve no idea.”

Severus lifted her feet to the table and opened her womanhood impossibly wide to his hungry gaze.

“Delicious.”

He licked his lips and ran a finger down her soaking folds.

“Severus . . ." she whimpered again, breath coming in desperate pants as he sucked his finger into his mouth, his eyes closing in sheer bliss at the taste of her arousal.

He had done that simple act hundreds of times before, licking and sucking her until she screamed out with her climax. She remembered the first time he had taken her, quite violently she recalled, during her time at the Apothecary. Successfully applying for an apprenticeship with the Master Brewer at the shop, she had been in contact with many customers and contacts; one being Severus Snape who had survived the war with a anti-venom potion of his own brewing. He supplied more complex potions to the shop and Hermione was required to liase with him on a regular basis.

“Miss Granger?” He scowled. “Could this day get any worse?”

“Good afternoon, Professor,” she said politely, ignoring his dark glare or the way his fingers hovered over his wand. “You will be working with me from now on. I look forward to learning from your expertise.”

Severus had let out a mirthless chuckle.

“It appears the day can get worse.”

Hermione huffed and stomped her foot as Severus stared down his impossibly large nose at her.

“I am not a child, Professor Snape, nor do I need your sarcastic remarks for us to have a productive professional relationship.”

“Master Higgles was not forthcoming with his new apprentice, had I know it was you ...”

He was cut off by her voice, shrill and angry.

“You would have what? Discontinued your business? Perhaps had me fired? What’s the matter, Snape, scared to face a former Gryffindor?”

She knew as soon as the words left her mouth that a line had been crossed, even more so when he snarled and stepped forward, pushing her hard against the wall.

“The vaunted Gryffindor courage, bravery and intelligence and you work in a second rate Apothecary that is lucky to have my business.”

His hands held her tightly and she knew there would be finger-shaped bruises the next day but found herself hardly caring. He was so close, his body so warm, an odd contrast to the cold glint in his eyes that she found herself quivering in his embrace.

“Get away from me,” she hissed and pushed at his chest.

Severus chuckled again.

“I think not, Granger. You don’t really want that now do you?”

She blinked, her eyes widening when she felt a small push against her mental walls.

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“No, you don’t.” She didn’t fight him when his hands pushed up her skirt, she didn’t make a sound when her head banged hard against the wall and she didn’t moan when his cock, long and awfully thick, penetrated her tight passage.

It was over quickly but she’d never felt so exhilarated in her entire life and when she chanced a look into his eyes, she gasped at the unguarded emotion shining back at her.

“What . . .” she panted but he silenced her with his thin, demanding lips.

“I think this is the start of a beautiful professional relationship,” he murmured and dropped her to the ground, sneering at her wild, dishevelled hair and her semen stained thighs.

Five more encounters of that kind and she was transferred to Hogwarts to complete her apprenticeship under Severus Snape’s watchful eye.

Ronald had been furious, Harry supportive but clearly torn between his two friends but she had gone, willingly to his laboratory and to his bed and hadn’t looked back once. Of course, the guilt was there, betraying her husband and becoming the scarlet woman he’d often referred to her as a teenager but his disrespect and lack of interest in what she hoped would be her future profession all but sounded the death knell in her relationship.

Ronald was too stupid to notice what was going on right underneath his nose. She would come home smelling like sex; Severus loving nothing more than to send her back to her husband with his release still dripping from her body, finger-shaped bruises adorned her thighs, love bites covering her body, but her dim-witted husband never noticed, not once.

Therein lay the problem.

She was bound to Ron for life, only death would break their marriage. Severus had been most helpful, providing several untraceable potions and spells that would make Ron’s death look like an accident. Hermione hadn’t always been so dark or desperate to be free, but the prospect of tying herself to Ronald Weasley for life was unbearable and had her toilet bowl shining with vomit just at the thought.

Severus was of course ingenious with his potion and Hermione realised after the first time he’d uttered "I love you" that he was doing this for her and a little for him. Revenge was his strong point, seeing Ronald as threat to his future happiness and there was the tiny problem of the dark wizard hating to share his things with others.

Severus did love her, of that she was positive. They didn’t always shag against walls and he didn’t always call her a whore, far from it. They spent countless hours, holding each other, reading, dancing in his quarters and just loving each other. He was a prickly man and it took over a year for her to get used to his little quirks and moods but finally they found a happy medium. It felt like home to Hermione, the only thing missing was the name; her name and how Severus wanted her to be Mrs. Snape.

With a sigh she tangled her fingers into his hair and dragged him up her body.

“I’ll do anything you ask of me, Severus.”

He swirled his tongue around her peaked nipple.

“And I for you, Hermione.”


~*~*~*~

The potion was clear and she stirred it into Ronald’s eggs. She could hear him singing off-key in the shower and prayed this would work. There wouldn’t be a trail leading back to her and Severus; it would appear to be a stress related death. Hermione giggled nervously and gave the scrambled eggs one last turn before dishing them out onto a large plate filled with bacon, toast, kippers and baked beans, his favourite.

Day Seven

Ron would leave tonight for a month with the Aurors and Harry, he would die in the line of duty and she would be blameless.


~*~*~

She wore a small black veil over her pale, freckled face. Flanked by Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter, Hermione Granger looked the epitome of grief, letting out small sobs and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief sporadically.

The potion had worked exactly how it was meant to; seven days of dosing the boy had lowered his mental defences and allowed his nightmares to have a mind of their own.

Spiders . . . Snape chuckled inwardly. That was what the stupid boy was frightened of so he had adjusted the potion to suit his needs.

Ten spider legs, one eye and two drops of Acromantula Venom had ensured that Ronald Weasley’s nightmares of spiders had taken over his entire existence.

The early reports from the field Aurors said that Weasley had been acting strangely roughly a week into his assignment, dark circles under his eyes, trouble sleeping and a constant referral to the eight legged menaces. He had even gone as far as to buy and use Muggle cans of fly spray to ward off the creatures. What he hadn’t thought of was the reaction of said fly spray with magic, the chemicals mixing with the flame from the candles and the shields he’d erected to protect himself.

Severus found it highly amusing that the boy had blown himself up and took several other Aurors with him. Unfortunately, Potter had escaped the fireball, but beggars can’t be choosers and Severus would be content with the Weasley boy’s demise. That brought him to this insufferable funeral with his witch crying over the casket of a fool when she should be on her knees pleasuring him.

Severus shifted uncomfortably as his pants tightened and breathed deeply through his nose. Granger would be his and his alone soon enough, he just had to patient. What were a few more months when he had waited years to bed her and possess her? The witch would be his forever but he’d make sure all untraceable poisons were taken out of her apprenticeship training and their binding by blood, if he died…then so would she.