100 Ways to Kill a Weasley

In the Potions Lab

“Hermione, I still don’t understand why you have to go back to Hogwarts tonight,” Ron said to his girlfriend sullenly.

Hermione, who had put up a pot of tea, turned and looked at the jealous, red-headed wizard with exasperation.

”Ron, I’ve already explained it to you. I’m helping Professor Snape to brew Mandrake Draught. He’s involved with another more complicated potion and won’t be able to add the stewed Mandrakes at the proper time. That’s why I have to go back and stay until the next step,” she said, walking into the living room of their flat and sitting down in an armchair

Ron followed her and stood before her as she rested her face in her hands.
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“Besides, I want a small bottle of it to add to my own little potions store,” she added. Professor Snape allowed her to take a small amount of any potion she helped to brew and she had a nice little collection of draughts, potions and elixirs in the hall closet.

”It sounds like an excuse to me. He just wants you there after hours, Hermione. I can tell he wants you just by the way he looks at you with those creepy, shifty eyes of his,” Ron said accusingly. “A man can tell these things about another man. He wants you for himself, Hermione.”

Hermione looked up at Ron, a tired expression on her face. Ever since she agreed to let him move in six months ago, he’d become possessive and jealous, wanting to know where she was every hour of the day and even putting a tracking charm on her once to make sure she was going where she said she was, which caused a powerful row between them. It was only because Ron cried and begged, falling to his knees with apologies and declarations of loving her so much, that Hermione didn’t bounce him out on his arse.

Still, even after that close call, he didn’t like her talking to any wizards and the fact that she was alone with Snape five days out of the week made him insane with jealousy, although the dark wizard did nothing, as far as Hermione could see to deserve Ron’s suspicions. He was only teaching her the fine art of potionmaking.

But Ron, as thick as he appeared to be . . . was right. Severus Snape did have his eye on his brilliant Apprentice. He believed Hermione had too much potential to be tied down with a man whose only desire for her future was to turn her into a house frau. Still, he had yet to say anything to the witch, hoping that their “playing house” would help Hermione to see Ronald Weasley was not the man for her. She needed someone who could stimulate her mind . . . not to mention completely satisfy her body.

If anyone could do that . . . it was Severus Snape. Not only was he a master of Potions, he knew how to stir a woman until she boiled over as well. If he longed to turn the heat up under anyone, it was Hermione Granger.

But Snape was a patient man. He was certain that Ron Weasley would fuck up on his own. If he didn’t, then . . . he might have to . . . intercede for Hermione’s own good. Being stuck in an unsuitable marriage for life was worse than a death sentence as far as the dark wizard was concerned.

The kettle sounded. Hermione started to rise when Ron told her, “No, Hermione. You rest. I’ll fix your tea for you. I know how you like it.”

Hermione nodded and sat back in the armchair, closing her eyes. Yes, she was tired and at least Ron would be out of her hair for a few scant minutes. His jealousy was infuriating and she was getting damn tired of it. Just because he loved her didn’t mean he had to try and isolate her from everyone else or follow her everywhere.

In the kitchen, Ron made Hermione’s tea, then reached into his pocket and removed a small folded parchment. He looked back toward the kitchen door furtively, then added the tasteless mixture to her tea. It would knock her out for the night.

He stirred the tea carefully, then set it on a tray with a crumpet and brought it in to Hermione, who drank the tea down and consumed the pastry. Ten minutes later she was out cold.

Ron picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, removing her clothing and leaving her in her bra and knickers. When Hermione was overtired, she often just stripped down and slept that way. Hopefully she’d think she had a lie down and overslept.

Then Ron walked to her potions store and looked at the carefully labeled potions, found the one he wanted and took it into the bathroom.

”Now, where is that hairbrush?” he said to himself, looking about.

He was going to see for himself how Hermione and Snape interacted. If there were anything going on the least bit untoward, there’d be the devil to pay.

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Snape was the lab that Hermione was to use, collecting some ingredients for his own project that he was working on in his personal lab when Hermione walked in.

”Good evening, Apprentice,” he said to the witch, who hurried by him with a murmured “Good evening, Professor Snape.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed a moment as he looked at Hermione, who removed her robes and hung them up on the robes rack, rolled up her sleeves and walked over to the cauldron of Mandrake Draught and lifted up the lid, peering down at it, then the dish of stewed Mandrake next to the cauldron. She picked it up and started to add the contents, Snape watching her . . . his eyes still narrowed.

”Er . . . Apprentice . . . aren’t you forgetting the cup of ammonium nitrate you’re supposed to add?” he asked the witch silkily.

”Oh, oh yes,” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

Snape blinked at her for a moment, then a very unpleasant smirk appeared on his pale face.

”It’s in the stores,” he said, leaving the room.

Ron heaved a sigh of relief. It was him of course, polyjuiced to look like Hermione. So far, Snape hadn’t said anything untoward, but he had the whole night ahead of him. He had read through Hermione’s potions book, studying the Mandrake Draught recipe and knew what point she was at, but hadn’t seen anything about ammonium nitrate. Still, he knew that Snape often altered brews to make them better. This was probably one of those cases.

He walked to the potions stores and saw the bottles had the same neat print on them as the ones at his and Hermione’s flat. Obviously it was Hermione who stocked the stores. Ron shifted through the bottles, found the ammonium nitrate and returned to the counter. Carefully he measured out the powder . . .

In his lab, Severus paused as he heard a loud explosion.

Going back to cutting the Valerian Root under his long, pale fingers, he purred, “Oh my. There seems to have been a terrible accident.”

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Hermione arrived at Hogwarts the next morning, full of apologies for not coming in last night. She knew Professor Snape was going to be livid. He was very hard concerning lateness, and she hadn’t shown up at all. Hopefully he wouldn’t dismiss her as his apprentice.

Her brow furrowed as she saw Aurors carrying out small plastic bags of something that seemed wet and heavy. As she walked down the hall, she heard a shriek, and was nearly bowled over by Auror and best friend, Harry Potter.

”Hermione!” he cried, grasping her by her shoulders and shaking her as if he were insane. “Hermione, we thought you were dead!”

”Dead? What do you mean dead?” she asked him.

”Well, Snape contacted the Ministry last night and said you’d blown yourself to bits working on Mandrake Draught. We’ve been picking up the pieces all morning!”

”But I didn’t come in last night, Harry. I fell asleep . . . and Ron, that git, didn’t even wake me . . .”

Suddenly Hermione’s eyes widened with horror as she realized what Ron had done.

”Oh Harry . . . Harry. That was Ron who got blown up, I’m sure of it,” she said, her voice high. “I think he knocked me out and pretended to be me so he could see what was going on with Snape. He was so jealous, Harry. I bet if I go home and check my stores, I’m missing a bottle of Polyjuice.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, then said, “Oh no, Hermione . . . he wouldn’t have . . . would he?”

Witch and wizard stood facing each other, knowing Ron was stupid enough to have done just that.

Further down the hall, Severus Snape stood partially in the doorway of his office, looking at the couple, his face somber despite his elation. Ronald Weasley was now out of the way. Of course, he knew immediately by his greeting that Ron was not Hermione. They had a strict code of addressing each other. He called Hermione “apprentice” and she called him “master” and not “Professor Snape.”

Of course, it could have been an error on her part, but Hermione was usually quite fastidious. It was when she agreed to add the ammonium nitrate, an ingredient that was highly explosive after a brew reached 360 degrees, he knew that he was looking at Ronald Weasley. So he left the lab and let stupidity take its course.

Now, Hermione was free. Oh, he’d give her a decent period to mourn. Four months should be enough. She still had two and a half years of apprenticeship left with him. More than enough time to establish a more intimate and suitable relationship than the one they currently had.

The dark wizard took a deep breath and began to glide up the hall toward Hermione and Harry. After reacting with the proper surprise, dismay and sympathy, he could work on comforting her . . .

and more.

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A/N: I saw our little interactive work was lagging, so added this little short. Again, Ron dies. Pooooor Ron. Lol. Now ya’ll add something. We’re mighty close. ***