The Burning Pen

Yuleride
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 33

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 33 ~ Weasley and Snape Have a Discussion

Ron leaned against the wall next to the rusted suit of arm next to the double doors leading into the Hogwarts' entrance hall. When Filch arrived at the gate, he found Ron there.

”What your business at Hogwarts?” the old squib asked him as Ron marveled that he was still around. He did this every time he saw the old caretaker. He almost suspected Filch owned an underutilized Sorcerer’s Stone that kept him just alive enough to be perpetually crotchety and bad-tempered.

He and Hermione argued about it, Hermione stating that Filch would have stopped aging long before he became old. Ron disagreed.

”We don’t really know what Dumbledore did with the stone in our first year. Maybe he gave it to Filch to keep him going a bit longer,” Ron theorized, getting a punch in his arm from Hermione in exasperation.

Ron told Filch he had come to see Professor Snape.

”Do you have an appointment?” Filch asked him, squinting one eye so he looked like a geriatric pirate.

”No, but I’m sure he’ll see me,” Ron replied as Filch opened the gate. There was a spell on it that only let staff and students in and out. All others would get a nasty shock as a warning to leave off.

”I doubt it. Professor Snape sees no one without an appointment. It’s his way. But you can try,” Filch replied, watching as Ron strode strongly away and once more cursing his arthritic limbs.

Now Ron waited by the armor for Snape to rise from the dungeons like vampires rose from the dead. He decided to take the ‘Tough Guy/Hermione’s not Ready’ approach. He was bigger than Snape now, and broader. He had about two inches and at least thirty pounds on him.

Like that would actually make a difference to the Potions master if Ron pissed him off. In the small world of Severus Snape, Ron was just a bigger target for his wand tip.

Hermione suddenly appeared on the first floor landing and walked down the marble stairs, students swarming after her. Ron tried to make himself very small, and luckily, she didn’t notice him as she turned down the corridor that led to the teacher’s entrance to the Great Hall. A good thing, too. There would definitely have been another row if she’d found out what he was up to.

Students soon erupted from the dungeon entrance next to the marble stairs as if they were being vomited up, and presently, Snape whooshed up from the darkness, striding toward the corridor Hermione went down. Ron quickly walked after him.

”Professor Snape! I’d like a word with you,” he called after the dark wizard.

Snape stopped and slowly turned, an unpleasant look on his face as Ron approached him. Ron tried to make himself look bigger.

”I need to talk to you man to man,” he said to the smaller wizard. Snape studied him, thinking it would be hard for the Weasley lad to do that, considering the only man standing there was Snape himself. Ron still lived with his mummy.

”You do not have an appointment, Mr. Weasley. I never see anyone without an appointment. You should remember that from when you attended the school,” Snape said quietly. “I am on my way to lunch now. Owl me, and I’ll give you a date and time.”

Snape spun and began to billow up the hall.

”It’s about Hermione Granger. You’ve hired her to work with you, but—but there are some issues you don’t know about. Issues that would make her a—a liability,” Ron said desperately.

Snape stopped walking. Issues? Oh, this was too good. His curiosity as to what depths Ron would sink to in order to sabotage Hermione’s decision overrode his natural urge to make Ron come back and he slowly turned to face him.

”Liabilities, you say?” the wizard purred, walking back toward Ron.

”Yes, professor. You need to hear this. Really,” Ron urged.

Snape studied him.

”Very well. I suppose I can have my lunch in my office while we talk. Give me a moment.”

Ron watched as Snape summoned a house elf. The wizard leaned down and quietly told the elf what he wanted for lunch.

The little creature’s ears flattened, its eyes wide as it looked into Snape’s pale visage.

”Yes, sir. Right away we makes it, sir,” the elf squeaked before winking away, looking quite taken aback.

Snape straightened and looked at Ron coolly.

”Follow me, Mr. Weasley,” he said, turning and billowing toward the dungeons again, then disappearing down the dark, narrow stairway. Ron followed.

Snape walked before him, just as quietly as he did when Ron attended Hogwarts. He had a kind of glide to his step that always made it seem as if he were slinking without doing so. Everything about Snape seemed to shout “sneaky.” It was a wonder that Voldemort never caught on he was a spy. The man inspired distrust.

They arrived at Snape’s office and Snape opened the door, entering, Ron following behind. Snape pointed to the rickety wooden chair in front of his desk imperiously.

”Have a seat, Mr. Weasley,” the wizard said, sweeping behind his own desk and sitting down in his comfortable, leather-upholstered swivel chair. He wriggled a bit, making a production of getting nice and comfy as the wooden chair’s seat dug into Ron’s butt bones. He remembered this chair.

Suddenly, a house-elf appeared, handing Snape a plate with a sandwich on it, wrapped in wax paper. The elf was facing away from Ron, so he didn’t see the clothespin on the creature’s long nose.

”Your lunch, sir,” the elf said in a somewhat nasally squeaky voice this time.

It winked out.

”You can begin, Mr. Weasley,” Snape said, unwrapping his sandwich. It was on dark bread, perhaps rye or pumpernickel.

”Well, see, professor, Hermione accepted your job offer when she was in a very upset state of mind. She wasn’t thinking clearly,” Ron told the wizard, who picked up a half of the sandwich and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully.

”You see, she and I had a bit of a tiff, a personal matter and I—I wanted some space so we weren’t in communication. She accepted your offer just to spite me, professor, not because she’s interested in the job. You know how witches can get. She’s—too emotional, don’t you think? I mean, to just toss away everything because you’re mad at someone isn’t something someone with all their crackers in place would do. You need someone steady, who can think with her head and not her emotions.”

Snape studied Ron. He thought he’d extended Hermione a job offer? That she “worked” for him? Hm. Interesting. What was also interesting was the way Ron was trying to lower his opinion of the witch, make him think she was unstable and unsuitable. Very nasty business from a wizard who was supposed to ‘love’ her.

Suddenly, Ron’s nose wrinkled up as a stench hit him. It was horrible, a mixture of sweaty feet and onions. His blue eyes watered up as he stared at Snape’s sandwich.

”What. Is. That?” Ron rasped.

Snape studied the sandwich, inadvertently waving it around in the air as he did so.

”A Limburger cheese and onion on rye,” he purred back at the wizard rather breathily, adding more stench. A limburger and onion sandwich tasted much better than it smelled, but from where Ron was sitting, who cared?

Now, Snape enjoyed this kind of sandwich, but rarely ate it when in mixed company. For Ron, he made an exception. Even the house elves were appalled, drawing straws to see who actually had to make the foul-smelling food. The house elf who delivered the order was exempt from the contest, since he had to actually bring it to Snape.

Ron pulled out his wand to cast a freshening spell, but Snape stopped him.

”Mr. Weasley, you don’t do magic in my domain without asking,” he snapped at the wizard. Ron fought the urge to pull his shirt over his nose.

”I want to cast a freshening charm. The—the aroma of your sandwich disagrees with me,” Ron explained reasonably.

Snape arched an eyebrow at him.

”One of the key enjoyments of eating this type of sandwich is its lingering scent. It adds to the experience, I have a rather developed olfactory sense, Mr. Weasley, so enjoy the smell more than most.”

Yeah, he probably would with those huge windsuckers he called nostrils. It was a wonder anyone could breathe in the same room with him and not die from lack of oxygen.

”Since you are in my domain, you will simply have to bear with it, or leave,” Snape added, enjoying Ron’s discomfort.

Ron didn’t say anything more about the sandwich, but waited patiently for Snape to finish it and address him. Snape made short work of the sandwich, sucked each finger delicately, tossed the pungent wax paper into the trash and set his plate aside. Then he folded his fingers on his desk and looked at Ron with glinting eyes.

”Miss Granger is a fine Charms mistress, Mr. Weasley, and a very talented one. You want me to believe she isn’t up to—the job I’ve offered her?”

”No sir, she accepted under duress. She’ll abandon you when she comes back to her senses. Then where would you be?”

”I’m not sure, Mr. Weasley. Exactly what is it that Miss Granger will be ‘tossing’ away if she—takes this ‘job?’”

”Well, first her secure position at the school as a Charms mistress. Hogwarts has great long-term benefits,” Ron stated, “plus, she’d be leaving me behind, we’re betrothed you know, have been for the longest time. I recently popped the question and she was thinking about it before all this happened. She can have a good, secure life here in wizarding England. Everyone wants that.”

Snape studied Ron and slowly began to shake his head.

”Unbelievable,” the wizard sneered.

Ron blinked at him. What the hell was Snape talking about?

”I would never have thought that you, Ronald Weasley, were such a selfish, treacherous wizard. You could have done well in Slytherin house, except you are cunning as a rock. It is clear that you have approached me not for my sake, or Miss Granger’s sake, but for your own sake. She’s made a decision to travel with me and you are seeking to sabotage her choice by coming to me directly and making her seem unsuitable for the task.

Ron reddened, but said nothing.

”Luckily, I am very familiar with both the witch’s abilities and temperament. She isn’t led by emotion, Mr. Weasley, but by logic. I made her an offer just before Christmas, and since you were sending her gifts last week, I deduce that whatever little spat you had, happened long after I told her about the opportunity. I have no reason to believe her acceptance is a snap decision on her part, but one she’s given thought to. Great thought. If you had gone to any other potential employer, no doubt she would have lost her position before she even had it. Sabotage is a nasty business, Mr. Weasley, but you have to go about it properly, which you didn’t. If you wanted me to retract my offer based on what you’ve told me, you’ve failed miserably.”

Ron leaned toward Snape desperately.

”Look, professor—I want Hermione to be my wife. If she goes off with you, that will never happen. She’ll—she’ll—“

”Find a life outside the one you’ve been carefully grooming her for, Mr. Weasley? I know your type. You are abusive and controlling.”

Ron’s face went black.

”I am not! I’ve never mistreated Hermione! Ever!” he declared.

”Yes, you have. The main indication of a man who would control every aspect of a woman’s life is his tendency to keep her isolated, solely in the sphere of influence he deems suitable. Usually, that sphere is devoid of anything remotely inspiring anything other than the attributes that man wants forced on that unfortunate woman. In your case, Mr. Weasley, you’ve kept Miss Granger in the sphere of your family and jealously so. I imagine you’ve kept her away from intelligent endeavors other than the mindless, repetitive teaching of students at Hogwarts to give her the illusion she’s using her mind, which she isn’t. Not allowing a person to reach or even aspire to their aspirations is abuse, plain and simple. You might not be striking Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, but you’ve locked her in a tower made of straw, manacling her with your manipulations, even resorting to psychological and emotional blackmail if she even suggests she do something for herself. You think this is love?”

Ron’s face twisted.

”And what’s a dark, lonely bastard like you know about Love, other than it’s moldering in a grave?” Ron snapped at him. “You’ve been in love with a corpse for years, you bloody necrophiliac! You don’t know what it is to love a woman! Not a living one at any rate.”

Ron had lost it. The truth of what Snape said was driven home and now he wanted to hurt the wizard.

Snape fought the urge to leap up and hex Ron to sleep. He was better at hiding how he felt than when he was with Hermione. This was more like what he was used to as a spy, being insulted and accused, unable to physically react. He kept his cool and responded.

”No, I don’t have much experience in that area, Mr. Weasley,” Snape admitted, “but I have vast experience in the methods you are using to keep Miss Granger under your thumb. It was used quite often by Voldemort to keep his Death Eaters loyal. Isolation and targeted influence. You’re no better than the Dark Lord when it comes to that young woman. What I am witnessing here is a last desperate attempt to get her back in your prison. I will not help you close the door on Miss Granger. She has far too much potential for the life you would tie her to. She will be an excellent companion during my travels, and I will not give her up now that she’s accepted.”

“You selfish bastard,” Ron hissed. “She could be happy here.”

”If she felt she could be happy here, Mr. Weasley, she would never have consented to accompany me. She is not going to be my employee, Mr. Weasley, but my partner. She will receive equal credit for our discoveries.”

”P—p==partner?” Ron gasped. “But, she has no money to invest in something as expensive as world travel. How could she be your partner?”

”Because I am going to supply the money for her travel and upkeep, then recoup it at a later date after a few successes. That way I don’t have to dish out a salary to her,” Snape said, thinking this might help keep Ron from thinking he had any other designs on Hermione, although it was obvious the young wizard thought it was all strictly business.

“That’s not fair,” Ron hissed.

”It’s good business, Mr. Weasley, and more importantly, Miss Granger accepts it as such. Now that we understand each other, I believe you should go,” Snape said, pulling out his wand and flicking it at the office door, which clicked and swung open.

Ron stood up and glowered at him.

”George told me I was wasting my time,” Ron growled at him.

”Your brother George has always shown a surprising amount of uncouth wisdom for a Weasley. You should have listened to him. Your feelings about a situation that involves me doesn’t matter a whit, Mr. Weasley. You could have talked to the gates of the castle and received a better response,” Snape purred at Ron, whose blue eyes were narrowed with hatred now.

“This isn’t right!” Ron declared vehemently.

“Right, wrong or otherwise, Mr. Weasley, the situation is what it is, and I have no desire to change it. Good day.”

There was a bit of iron in Snape’s voice as he dismissed the red haired wizard a second time. The third time was the charm—or in this case the hex if he had to dismiss him again.

“Fine, I’m leaving, but you’re helping Hermione to ruin her life,” Ron said as he rose and backed toward the door.

”It won’t be the first life I’ve ruined if that is indeed the case, Mr. Weasley,” Snape said coldly. “I’m quite good at it.”

Ron glared at him, then turned and stalked from his office without another word.

Snape flicked his wand at the door and slammed it behind him for emphasis, feeling like a million Galleons. That had been rather cathartic.

The dark wizard leaned back in his chair and placed his arms behind his head.

Hermione was definitely free of Ronald Weasley.

For the first time in a long, long time, Severus Tobias Snape felt all was right with the world.

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A/N: Well, that went well for Snape. Poor Ron. Ah well, such is life.

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