100 Ways to Kill a Weasley
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
93
Views:
41,829
Reviews:
236
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
93
Views:
41,829
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.
In Which Ron Studies... Finally
“Sorry, babe, I guess it was never meant to be.”
Ooooh. He would live to regret those words.
Ron waltzed out of the Common Room to follow Lavender Brown on what was no doubt going to be a carnal adventure of epic proportion. Hermione felt her stomach churn.
Harry caught one look of the black expression on her face and took off toward the boy’s dormitory.
Fine. It was all his fault, anyway. If he hadn’t confronted Ron about hurting her feelings, none of this would EVER have happened. Really, there were plenty to share that blame. Harry, Lavender, Won-Won, the fools who suggested she needed another year of magical education after Voldemort was defeated... She gave an exasperated sigh.
All of a sudden, Hermione was acutely aware of all the eyes on her. She had to get out of the Common Room. Her bed was not an option. -They- were there; they were -her- friends, not Hermione’s. There was no escape to be found in Gryffindor. Hermione managed some measure of poise as she slowly, deliberately stood and walked toward the portrait and freedom.
Once in the corridor, she felt flushed and hot with anger and shame. Almost unconsciously, Hermione sought out the cool of the dungeons. A tête-à-tête with Malfoy was preferable to any more time around the people who called themselves her friends.
Quite against her wishes, hot tears began to fill her eyes and run down her face.
‘Great,’ Hermione thought, ‘another embarrassment… haven’t I had enough tonight?’
She managed to pull herself together long enough to almost completely disappear in a niche. Sliding down the wall, she continued her emotional outburst outside of the clear line of sight. Vaguely, Hermione registered that her feet were sticking out of the niche due to the sitting posture she had assumed, but since the dungeon hallway was dark and deserted, she thought nothing of it.
But the hallway was not deserted. Of course, the individual stalking the hall was none other than the Greasy Bat of the Dungeons, himself. Like all bats, he did not hunt by sight. No, it was her sniffles that caught his attention.
Extending his arm, he pulled Miss Granger, sniffling, snotting mess she was, out of her hiding place. Ungently, he caught her chin and made her meet his eyes.
Hermione knew what he was doing as flashes of the past few hours were revealed to both of them. She didn’t resist. She knew that in her state, she couldn’t if she tried. Yet, even after he was no longer inside her mind, he didn’t speak. Instead, his head was cocked slightly, and he was looking at her appraisingly.
“Well, Sir, are you going to give me detention?”
“Whatever for, Miss Granger. It isn’t past curfew, and though this is an odd place for you to be, it is not restricted.”
“What about house points?”
“There was no offense. Believe it or not, I am not entirely unfeeling. Also, I was young once, and have some understanding of such crises.”
She muttered something that sounded like “You aren’t old,” but he was unable to be sure.
“Now, would you like me to Disillusion you so that you can make it to bed with your dignity intact?”
“Yes, sir,” she barely said, with her head hanging as it had been since he relinquished his hold.
He did and she left. He watched until the small trail of diamonds was no longer visible.
“You’re getting soft,” Severus Snape admonished himself in an undertone.
Albus always said it would happen one day.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That one moment of kindness led to a wonderful relationship, if slightly covert. Though Hermione was of age, it would likely be frowned upon for a student and teacher to be romantically involved. And they -were- romantically involved—it wasn’t just sex. Graduation was only days away and Hermione was ready to start her career. After that, they would be married. He had already asked. Screw Ronald Weasley; who needed a boy, anyway? Hermione didn’t, not when she already had the man of her dreams.
Speaking of Ronald, he was sitting across the common room, desperately studying for his -final- final exam. Lavender was, of course, sitting close to her Won-Won. That was nauseating, no matter who you were.
As she watched them over her cross-word, Hermione noticed Ron’s wand moving, along with his lips, as he studied the seventh-year Charms text. Whatever he was doing, he was not doing it right. All of a sudden there was a great resonating boom, and no more Ron, Lavender, OR text book.
Hermione suppressed a giggle. She pictured Ron and Lavender, the nauseating couple as they had been, and could not help thinking, “Sorry, babe, I guess it was never meant to be.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At the funeral, in the back of the room, Hermione had been recounting the details of Ron Weasley’s final blunder to Severus. A smirk crossed his face as he took her hand and walked them toward the casket. He leaned forward, toward the deceased red-head.
Hermione followed his lead, trying to catch what final words he might possibly have.
She was not disappointed.
“Well, well, well, Weasley. It seems a little studying DID kill you.”
Ooooh. He would live to regret those words.
Ron waltzed out of the Common Room to follow Lavender Brown on what was no doubt going to be a carnal adventure of epic proportion. Hermione felt her stomach churn.
Harry caught one look of the black expression on her face and took off toward the boy’s dormitory.
Fine. It was all his fault, anyway. If he hadn’t confronted Ron about hurting her feelings, none of this would EVER have happened. Really, there were plenty to share that blame. Harry, Lavender, Won-Won, the fools who suggested she needed another year of magical education after Voldemort was defeated... She gave an exasperated sigh.
All of a sudden, Hermione was acutely aware of all the eyes on her. She had to get out of the Common Room. Her bed was not an option. -They- were there; they were -her- friends, not Hermione’s. There was no escape to be found in Gryffindor. Hermione managed some measure of poise as she slowly, deliberately stood and walked toward the portrait and freedom.
Once in the corridor, she felt flushed and hot with anger and shame. Almost unconsciously, Hermione sought out the cool of the dungeons. A tête-à-tête with Malfoy was preferable to any more time around the people who called themselves her friends.
Quite against her wishes, hot tears began to fill her eyes and run down her face.
‘Great,’ Hermione thought, ‘another embarrassment… haven’t I had enough tonight?’
She managed to pull herself together long enough to almost completely disappear in a niche. Sliding down the wall, she continued her emotional outburst outside of the clear line of sight. Vaguely, Hermione registered that her feet were sticking out of the niche due to the sitting posture she had assumed, but since the dungeon hallway was dark and deserted, she thought nothing of it.
But the hallway was not deserted. Of course, the individual stalking the hall was none other than the Greasy Bat of the Dungeons, himself. Like all bats, he did not hunt by sight. No, it was her sniffles that caught his attention.
Extending his arm, he pulled Miss Granger, sniffling, snotting mess she was, out of her hiding place. Ungently, he caught her chin and made her meet his eyes.
Hermione knew what he was doing as flashes of the past few hours were revealed to both of them. She didn’t resist. She knew that in her state, she couldn’t if she tried. Yet, even after he was no longer inside her mind, he didn’t speak. Instead, his head was cocked slightly, and he was looking at her appraisingly.
“Well, Sir, are you going to give me detention?”
“Whatever for, Miss Granger. It isn’t past curfew, and though this is an odd place for you to be, it is not restricted.”
“What about house points?”
“There was no offense. Believe it or not, I am not entirely unfeeling. Also, I was young once, and have some understanding of such crises.”
She muttered something that sounded like “You aren’t old,” but he was unable to be sure.
“Now, would you like me to Disillusion you so that you can make it to bed with your dignity intact?”
“Yes, sir,” she barely said, with her head hanging as it had been since he relinquished his hold.
He did and she left. He watched until the small trail of diamonds was no longer visible.
“You’re getting soft,” Severus Snape admonished himself in an undertone.
Albus always said it would happen one day.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That one moment of kindness led to a wonderful relationship, if slightly covert. Though Hermione was of age, it would likely be frowned upon for a student and teacher to be romantically involved. And they -were- romantically involved—it wasn’t just sex. Graduation was only days away and Hermione was ready to start her career. After that, they would be married. He had already asked. Screw Ronald Weasley; who needed a boy, anyway? Hermione didn’t, not when she already had the man of her dreams.
Speaking of Ronald, he was sitting across the common room, desperately studying for his -final- final exam. Lavender was, of course, sitting close to her Won-Won. That was nauseating, no matter who you were.
As she watched them over her cross-word, Hermione noticed Ron’s wand moving, along with his lips, as he studied the seventh-year Charms text. Whatever he was doing, he was not doing it right. All of a sudden there was a great resonating boom, and no more Ron, Lavender, OR text book.
Hermione suppressed a giggle. She pictured Ron and Lavender, the nauseating couple as they had been, and could not help thinking, “Sorry, babe, I guess it was never meant to be.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At the funeral, in the back of the room, Hermione had been recounting the details of Ron Weasley’s final blunder to Severus. A smirk crossed his face as he took her hand and walked them toward the casket. He leaned forward, toward the deceased red-head.
Hermione followed his lead, trying to catch what final words he might possibly have.
She was not disappointed.
“Well, well, well, Weasley. It seems a little studying DID kill you.”