Yuleride

Chapter 17 ~ The Dirty Deed is Done

“Wait!”

The black privacy curtain swung back and Odessa walked through quickly, followed by Ron.

”Wait, just give me your name, then!” he called after her.

”Can’t do that,” the witch said, as George looked up, both eyebrows raised as he watched his brother hurry after the curvy customer. His brows lowered into a scowl when he saw she didn’t have any merchandise.

”You have to tell me something—where do you live?” Ron begged.

Odessa walked by the counter and looked at George.

”I’ve decided not to buy anything here,” she said quickly as she passed and made a beeline for the door.

”Don’t go! Wait,” Ron said desperately, pulling out his wand and firing a tracking spell at the prostitute as she opened the door. The spell didn’t connect but caused a kind of ripple as if she were surrounded by water. She was protected by a Repelling spell.

Odessa walked through the door and immediately the sound of thunder rumbled.

”No!” Ron cried, ripping the door open and running outside. He stood there, first looking up and down the street, then overhead as if he hoped to see her flying away. Then, he dropped his head and walked back inside. Several customers looked at him curiously.

”Gods, they really go after a sale, don’t they?” one wizard said to his friend, who was shaking his head.

George, who was furious, caught Ron’s arm and led him back behind the counter and into the office. He let him go.

”What the bloody hell was that, Ron?” he asked his brother. “You were back there with her for forty-five minutes and she didn’t buy anything! And then you chase her out of the store! You’re going nutters!”

Ron stared at George for a moment, then slumped back against the desk, looking at the floor.

”Here now, what happened back there?” George asked him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you tried to have a go with her? You just proposed to Hermione last night, you bastard.”

Ron looked up at him, his face red.

”You did hit on her!” George said disbelievingly.

”I didn’t George—“ Ron started to say.

”What? Do you think I’m stupid and deaf, Ron? You came out here begging for her name and address. You even tried to put a tracking spell on her. A tracking spell. Major stalker, Ron. Stalker! No wonder she didn’t buy anything. Ten to one her boyfriend’s going to come here later and break his boot off in your arse.”

“You don’t understand, George,” Ron said, his blue eyes going unfocused as he seemed to stare into the recent past. “I just received the most brilliant blowjob of my life.”

George’s mouth dropped open, then he pulled out his wand.

”What? Let me see! Legilimens!”

Five Minutes Later:

”Damn. Holy mother of Merlin, you lucky fucking bastard,” George panted as he withdrew from Ron’s memories. “No wonder you chased her out of here. How did you bloody last so long? I would’ve spewed all over her face in less than a minute. That was-- gods. Now I wish you had gotten her name. I would’ve looked her up myself.”

“I don’t know. It was like she knew when I was getting close and eased up,” Ron said hollowly. “Gods, she was amazing. She used her hands, her tongue, teeth, lips and throat. She took me down her throat, George, all the way up to my balls. And all the spit . . .”

Ron began to get another erection. George already had one. A bell sounded.

”A customer,” George said to his brother. “Just stay here and recover, mate. I’ll be back.”

George left the room as Ron mulled over the best sexual experience of his life. Hermione had given him blowjobs before, but it was always half-heartedly. She wasn’t good at it at all. He didn’t even think she might be better at it if he were more reciprocal and didn’t act as if it were all about him. Hermione’s lack of enthusiasm was in direct correlation to his selfishness. But Ron wasn’t thinking about that right now. Hermione wasn’t on his mind at all.

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Snape, who was sitting in his study reading an issue of “Going Muggle” a magazine about world travel sans magic, looked up when the flames of his fireplace turned green. He had it set so no one could enter his domain, but they could speak to him.

”Professor Snape? It’s Natasha. Are you in?” the proprietor of Madam Simpers House of Hooch inquired politely.

”Yes, I am here,” Snape replied, leaning forward, his eyes narrowed.

”Oh good. I just wanted to let you know Mr. Weasley’s Christmas Gift has been delivered,” the madam said.

”Did he—enjoy it?” the wizard purred.

”Oh yes. My girl had to escape him. He was hot on her heels, begging to know her name and where she lived,” Natasha replied.

Snape ran a finger over his lips.

”Good. Excellent, in fact. Thank you, Natasha,” he said.

”Anytime, Professor. Don’t be a stranger,” came the reply, then the flames turned red again.

Snape put his magazine down and sat back in the armchair, staring into the flames, his full attention on Ronald Weasley now. If he’d read his Weasley right, the buffoon wouldn’t be able to get over what happened to him in the joke shop. It would thoroughly take over his imagination. What Snape was hoping was not only wouldn’t Ron be able to put what happened behind him, but want more of the same treatment. In essence, he’d be on a mission to recreate that blowjob. And who would he turn to?

Hermione, who more than likely wouldn’t want to slob his knob.

Hermione had told Snape that she rarely performed fellatio on Ron, so his newly revived interest in receiving such attention would most certainly cause a wider rift between the couple than already existed.

Snape’s lip quirked a bit before his black eyes narrowed and a feeling of tightness tugged inside his chest. He tried to check the sudden rising fury he felt at the idea of Ron even asking Hermione to service him in such a manner. Suddenly he leapt to his feet, his face in a snarl.

”You don’t deserve her!” he hissed at the red flames of his fireplace, envisioning Ron’s head full of red hair. “You bloody pig. You just proposed last night, yet allowed a strange woman to suck your cock in a dressing stall not even twenty-four hours later. You don’t love Hermione Granger. You just want to tie her down! Turn her into a trophy wife and brood mare. You won’t do it! You won’t bloody do it!”

Snape began to pace, his face contorted and robes billowing. Even though he’d set Ron up, the wizard didn’t have to go for it. But Snape knew he would, because Weasley’s conscience always lagged, even when he attended Hogwarts. He had one, but his skull was so thick it took awhile for it to make it to the surface, and generally too late.

Snape angrily kicked the small table between the armchairs over, sending his magazine flying and the table sliding across the floor. He stared at it as it stopped against the back of the couch, the couch he had taken Hermione on just last night. His nostrils were flared and his eyes as hard as diamond. His sallow face contorted murderously as he thought about his competition. That’s what Ronald Weasley represented to him now, competition. Competition he had to eliminate one way or the other.

Snape breathed deeply, trying to cull his anger.

It was far too early to consider other methods to remove Ronald Weasley neatly out of the picture, but he would consider them if he had to do so.

Last night with the witch had cemented Snape’s desire for her companionship in his dark heart and now that desire began to consume him. Hermione would come with him at the end of term. She must.

Ronald Weasley and everyone else be damned.

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Hermione tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear after she placed another dish on the table. Molly had made a wonderful Christmas dinner for the family. Roast turkey, roast pork with apple sauce, Brussels sprouts with chestnuts, roast potatoes, parsnips and Swede, cranberry sauce, a rich nutty stuffing, tiny sausages wrapped in bacon, hot gravy, bread sauce and a Christmas pudding with brandy butter. There was enough food to feed a small army.

Molly looked at the spread critically.

”I hope it’s enough,” she said thoughtfully.

A disheveled Ginny in an apron splattered with gravy, and a small piece of potato peeling dangling from her hair said tiredly, “Trust me, mum. It’s enough.”

Molly had worked her and Hermione tirelessly. Fleur didn’t help out at all, but stayed in the living room with the Ginny’s children, Bill, Arthur and Charlie.

”I am a guest,” she told Ginny pointedly when asked to chip in. Bill simply shook his head at his sister. Fleur was his wife, but she was nothing like his mother. Still, he loved her despite her diva-like demeanor.

Molly looked doubtful for a moment, then sighed. It would just have to do.

”All right, you two go get cleaned up,” Molly said, adjusting a casserole dish full of roasted potatoes. “We’re going to eat as soon as Ron and George get home.”

Hermione’s belly tightened.

”Um, Molly. I’m going to need a few minutes to talk to Ron,” she said softly.

Molly looked at her as if she didn’t know what she was talking about, then realized Ron was the only one who didn’t yet know what happened.

”Oh, of course. We’ll wait, Hermione,” she said, patting Hermione’s hand. “Still, go clean up.”

As she and Ginny walked up the stairs, the redhead gave her a sidelong glance.

”Hermione, you told us why you ran off, but you didn’t say anything about whether or not you were going to accept Ron’s proposal,” she softly.

”I know,” Hermione replied shortly.

Ginny didn’t say anything more as they parted ways, Hermione entering Ron’s bedroom and Ginny her own.

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Still dazed from his erotic encounter, Ron and George arrived home half an hour later. Ron stood in the kitchen staring down at the food but seeming not to see it, as George hurried into the living room to grab Bill and Charlie and spread the dirt. They wouldn’t share it with the witches of course.

”Ah, Ron, Hermione is upstairs,” Molly said to her son, frowning slightly. He seemed—preoccupied.

Ron blinked at her for a moment, then said, “Oh. I’d better go talk to her.”

When he had got up this morning, Hermione was the only thing on his mind. Where did she go? Why? Didn’t she want to marry him? Now, the situation just didn’t seem as important. Apparently, clarity came as he did. He wouldn’t give her a hard time about it.

Ron walked up the stairs and into the bedroom just as Hermione drew on another Christmas sweater. She had showered, washing away the last vestiges of her night with Severus Snape. She’d been Scourgified, but there was nothing like soap and water to make a person feel clean.

Hermione turned and looked at Ron. He looked a bit . . . odd.

”Hi, Ron,” she said softly.

”Hi,” he replied, looking at her sweater. “Nice sweater. Christmasy.”

”Thanks,” Hermione responded. This felt oddly formal.

”Ron, about last night,” she began, but Ron shook his head.

”I surprised you. You weren’t ready for me to propose. It’s all right, Hermione,” he told her.

Hermione just blinked at him. Ron was being very perceptive and understanding. Of course, this made Hermione’s woman sense go off big time. Ron was normally neither of those things, unless he had time to think. Well, maybe he did think.

“I’m going to go downstairs for Christmas dinner. Are you coming,” he asked the witch.

Hermione furrowed her brow at him.

”Don’t you want to know where I went at least?” she asked him.

”I’m sure wherever it was, it was safe, since you’re back now. I thought you might have gone back to Hogwarts eventually. Maybe just walked around a bit,” the wizard said, his blue eyes resting on her. This was odd too. Ron always wanted to know where she went and who she was with.

”I—I did go to Hogwarts,” she said slowly.

”Yeah. Well, are you ready for dinner?” he asked her, backing toward the door.

”Ronald? What’s wrong with you? Don’t you care I ran off on you?”

”Of course I care, but you came back, didn’t you?”

”Yes, but . . .”

“Well, we can talk about what happened later,” the redhead told her. “I’m starved.”

”Aren’t you even interested in my answer?”

”Answer? Answer to what?”

”Your proposal, you git!” Hermione said angrily.

”Oh. That. Well, I thought we’d talk about that later, too. Mum doesn’t like to keep the food magically heated too long, Hermione. It starts drying out.”

”Fine. Let’s just go then,” Hermione said, storming past Ron and down the stairs.

Ron followed her, his mind still on the blowjob he received. When he entered the kitchen, everyone was sitting down at the table. Charlie, Bill and George all stared at him, Bill shaking his head slightly. He was the only married brother, and what Ron had allowed to happen would ruin any chance of him being the next one if it were found out. Harry was seated as well, but no one told him about what happened at the joke shop. He would have gone ballistic on Ron. Harry loved Hermione like a sister.

”Come along now, everyone get seated,” Molly urged, rushing Hermione to her seat. “Come along, Ron! Hurry!”

Ron sat down next to Hermione and Bill, who looked at him with a frown. Ron didn’t seem to notice until they joined hands for the customary moment of silence and Bill crushed his fingers. Ron winced, turning his blue eyes on him.

”What?” he mouthed at his brother.

”You stupid prat,” Bill mouthed back at him.

“All right! Everybody dig in!” Arthur announced jovially, and the melee began.

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A/N: Another chappie. Thanks for reading. ***