Summary: An attempt at crackfic featuring Ron and Hermione's tragic break-up. An enraged Hermione decides to give her insensitive boyfriend a good beating. A certain Death Eater witnesses the scene and, impressed by her ruthlessness, offers to help her get revenge.

Features an exaggeration of HBP!Hermione and HBP!Ron in their worst characteristics. Somewhat OOC - it's a parody, guys.

Inspired by scenario number 31 in the Lucius/Hermione Plot Bunny List on astarvingwriter's LiveJournal. Last edit date: 5/2014.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.


Misfortune of a Weasley

"We're like Mum and Dad, we bicker all the time. It's cool, makes life interesting. Come on, Hermione, don't tell me it isn't fun!"

"The problem, Ronald Weasley, is that you are the most boring person I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Even arguing with you is boring."

Silence followed that statement. Ron gaped at her. He looked like a fish, a disgusting, dead, ugly fish with a reddening face and a lot of freckles.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. Why had she gone to Hogsmeade with Ron if it was only to yell at each other on the streets? Hermione hated quarrelling in public, but she wasn't about to stay silent and let Ron think he had won. Not that anyone was here to hear them. It was late and the street was deserted.

"Boring?" Ron said in disbelief once he had recovered from gaping. "You are the one who spends every weekend with your nose buried in a bloody book and you call me boring!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed furiously. "You're the one who always copies off me! I bet you wouldn't have passed a single OWL if it hadn't been for my notes!"

"Oh yeah?" said Ron. "So you think I'm stupid, know-it-all?"

"That's exactly what I was talking about. You have no respect for me," she said sadly. "There can be no lasting relationship without respect, Ron."

Ron stared at her blankly. Apparently, the concept of respect was too hard for him to understand. So he did the only thing that came to his teaspoon-sized mind at that moment. Too bad it only reinforced Hermione's point.

"I'm sure you won't think I'm boring after this." And he crushed his lips to hers in a wet, sloppy kiss.

When he drew back, Hermione wiped her mouth, disgusted. "Ron, you are a horrible kisser."

"Funny, Lavender doesn't think so. But tell me, was Vicky better?" he mocked.

The nerve of him...! She couldn't stand Ron sometimes. More and more often since they had started dating. Why had she actually accepted to be his girlfriend? Why did she go out with a boy who couldn't understand her and didn't even try?

"Lavender? Lavender?" she said shrilly. "How dare you mention that – that cow, you self-centred, insensitive, immature –" Her eyes dilated and she shook with rage. "I don't know how I could ever think you were good-looking, you freckle-faced, ginger-haired, long-nosed prat!"

Ron's ears turned a deep purple and he looked very insulted. "Says the girl who fancied Lockhart!" he sneered. "Maybe Rita Skeeter got it right. It's a wonder you didn't go after Harry – oh, wait, he isn't good-looking enough for you, is he? I bet – I bet you fancy some slimy Slytherins too! It wouldn't surprise me if you even fancied Malfoy!"

Hermione's jaw dropped. Of all the preposterous, ludicrous, absurd – she was about to tell Ron that he was absolutely raving mad, but then a wicked idea occurred to her. "Maybe I do. Which one?" she said instead of denying the ridiculous accusation, purely to spite Ron. Too bad the cloaked figure listening from the shadows didn't know that.

Had she been aware of the person, concealed by an invisibility spell, watching from a shadowed corner, she would have thought twice before saying that.

For the umpteenth time that day, it was Ron's turn to impersonate a fish out of water. "You – what – you –" he sputtered. "You know what? Why don't you find another boyfriend, if you think I'm not good enough for you? Go try to find someone better than me, I dare you," he challenged once he had regained minimal coherence. "Not that you can! I bet it won't be long before you'll be begging me to take you back."

What a complete bastard! Hermione wanted to beat the freckles off him.

From years of experience, Ron should have taken into account that Hermione sometimes tended to sort of lose it and get violent when really angered. He had seen her hit Draco Malfoy hard enough to send him staggering, and that had only been a small taste of what she would have done if not for the risk of getting expelled.

Ron shouldn't have been so surprised when her fist struck his face in a sweeping blow.

She hit really hard. Her arm and shoulder muscles were strong from carrying dozens of books all the time.

Her fist collided with his jaw next and then, without pausing to breathe, she punched him in the stomach. Ron was too shocked to do anything but stand there, bewildered, as he was beat up by a girl.

The satisfaction she felt at hitting the git was making her light-headed and she couldn't stop, even when Ron said in a frightened and very pained voice, "Stop! No more! Hermione! Snap out of it, Hermione!"

She swung back her arm to strike him again and paused to decide where to aim so it would hurt most. She was panting as though she had been running. Her hair fluffed out, her nostrils flared, she looked fierce, vicious... scary.

She looked a bit like those Ministry Wanted posters of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Hermione," croaked Ron, wide-eyed. In guise of an answer, she kicked him between the legs as hard as she could.

With a groan of pain, Ron struggled to stand. For some reason, this made her angry, and she swung back her fist and brought it down on his face with all her strength.

Ron sank to his knees, blood running down his face. Hermione suspected his nose was broken, but she felt no sympathy. She said furiously, "I wish I knew how to cast the Cruciatus Curse."

"I can teach you," a malicious voice drawled behind her.

Ron paled. Hermione, however, was so deep in her rage that as she turned around, she didn't even feel frightened. Not the typical reaction when confronted with a Death Eater who had recently escaped from Azkaban. But Hermione only saw a chance to get back at Ron.

"I happened to witness your performance for a few moments... Wholly impressive. Worthy of respect, as a matter of fact."

A Death Eater was praising her for her ruthlessness. And not just any Death Eater... Even in the dim light, she immediately knew who he was. Only two wizards had such distinctive glow-in-the-dark hair: her most annoying classmate and his Death Eater, Azkaban escapee father who was currently offering to help her Muggle-born self get some proper revenge. Could things get any more strange than this? Oh yes, they could. He was also offering to train her in the darkest of the Dark Arts.

His eyes were fixed maliciously on the Weasley boy as he wrapped an arm around the irate girl's shoulders. He smiled cruelly when she did not even react, entirely focused on her anger with the boy.

"You get away from her!" shouted Ron, struggling to get up. "Get your hands off my girlfriend or I'll –"

"Locomotor Mortis," the Death Eater said lazily. Ron's legs gave up under him, causing him to collapse on the ground again. "You will what, boy?" the drawling voice mocked. "It doesn't appear as though your girlfriend wants me to, ah, get away from her."

"I'm not your property, Ron," said Hermione defiantly. She was slightly taken aback by the Death Eater's audacity, but she found that she didn't mind it, because it probably made Ron feel the same way she had felt when he had been snogging Lavender all over the Gryffindor common room.

"Teach me, then," she demanded, glaring at Ron's stunned, bloody face.

"Only if you consent to use Weasley here as the practice subject."

"Gladly, sir," Hermione said fiercely, much to Ron's horror.

"No... You've gone mad," Ron managed. But he found himself ignored.

The Death Eater withdrew his wand, and in a quick jerking movement, had it pointed towards Ron. "The incantation is Crucio," he said casually.

Hermione watched as her irksome boyfriend thrashed about, emitting ear-splitting shrieks.

The Death Eater raised his wand. Ron stopped rolling around in the mud but still trembled visibly.

"It is your turn," he told her, "have a try."

Hermione took out her own wand and struggled to imitate the movement he had demonstrated, but she was having difficulty.

He moved to stand behind her. He reached around her and took hold of the hand in which she held her wand. He guided her through the motion until she got it right. And then he spoke.

"You want him to suffer, do you not? Think of every time he caused you offence and tears. You want to teach him to respect you, never to take you for granted again..."

That was the exact truth, she realised. Ron had made her cry more than anyone else in the wizarding world. He had used her as an excuse to break up with Lavender when he had had enough of such a superficial girlfriend, but was that what he had been expecting of her too? A girl he could snog all over the place, a girl who would fawn over him and do his schoolwork? He thought it was useful to have Hermione Granger as a girlfriend? Oh, she would show him.

He kicked her cat, made fun of her because he was jealous of her intelligence, derided everything she found important and put down her every attempt at doing things she found worthwhile and rewarding, such as SPEW. To add to that, he seemed to think they were meant to be together because the fact that their personalities were complete opposites made it, in his opinion, fun. Because Ron did not want a serious relationship, one in which they would have something to talk about, some things in common.

No, Ron wasn't serious about anything, and romance was no exception. And for that, he deserved it. It was about time she stopped letting him walk all over her.

He deserved it.

She also wanted to prove she could do the spell right even though she was Muggle-born. To prove that she was as good at magic as any pure-blood, any Death Eater.

"Crucio," she said.

Nothing happened.

She fumed. She usually got spells right on the first try. Why wasn't it working?

"Do not despair. No one can perform an Unforgivable Curse correctly on the first attempt. What you want for is the intent, Miss Granger. Intent is essential to succeed at the Dark Arts. You need to desire his pain ... to want to be the source of it ... to will it with your entire mind.

"Look at Weasley, Miss Granger." She did. "Do you want to punish him?"

"Oh yes," she said at once.

He lazily stroked her back. "Do you want to see him in pain?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to be the cause of that pain?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Then will it," he encouraged. "You have the power."

"But look at him, sir – he's already in pain."

"That is inconsequential," he said smoothly. "A simple spell will heal him in an instant. Wouldn't you rather give the boy a more memorable lesson, one he will never forget, so that he never injures your feelings again? Surely you wish to see him in more than a little momentary pain for every careless word he has ever spoken?"

How did this man understand her so well, she wondered, glaring down at the terrified Ron. He deserves it, she told herself. "Crucio!"

Ron let out a scream, but after a few seconds, he was trying to get up, gasping for breath. Why doesn't it work? she thought frantically. She was Hermione Granger, for goodness's sake. There was no spell she couldn't do!

She had no idea why this champion of pure-blood supremacy was helping her, but she would be damned if she didn't take the opportunity to show him she was more than competent as a witch.

She wanted to do this, dammit – she wanted to show that she could –

"CRUCIO!" she shouted, beside herself with anger.

She didn't know it, but in that moment, she looked exactly like Bellatrix Lestrange.

This time, Ron's screams didn't stop. He did not attempt to stand up again.

Her eyes fixed on the writhing form of her (ex?) boyfriend, Hermione was unaware of the triumphant, calculating look in the cold grey eyes of the man who had just taught her one of the Darkest and most illegal curses known to wizardkind.

"Very good," he said. "My dear girl, you impress me."

She grinned proudly. But when she raised her wand to give poor Ron a reprieve, she still felt it hadn't been enough for years of making fun of her and tormenting her with Lavender. She had liked Ron once, honestly... but she had wished nothing more than for him to be pecked into a bloody mess by her conjured pigeons. She hadn't felt a trace of pity. She would have watched them peck him to death.

This – none of this was revenge enough. And at this point in time, there was only one other thing she could think of that would account for the wrongs her former boyfriend had done. It would be the ultimate payback... There was nothing that could hurt Ron more...

And there was nothing she wanted more than to settle the scores with the freckled git.

Hermione glanced mischievously at the blond Death Eater, and he seemed to understand, because his arms readily encircled her waist when she tilted her head up to kiss him, watching Ron from the corner of her eye.

Now he was a really good kisser...

This wasn't at all like Ron's brash, pushy smooching. This was delicate, unhurried, yet unmistakeably deep and passionate. The sort of kiss that made Hermione's knees weak and left her light-headed, winded and longing for more. This spoke of skill and seduction; someone who was in control and fully aware of it, and who was determined to make her enjoy every second.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. Through half-closed eyes, she could see Ron's look of horror, and triumph coursed through her veins, pure, sweet victory.

He thoroughly enjoyed the pain and rage on Weasley's face as the boy watched his girlfriend melt in the arms of another man, and not just anyone but a hated enemy. Tormenting a Weasley – any Weasley – was always an enjoyable activity, and it seemed the girl agreed with him.

She moved back, breathless.

"Is it true?" he asked her.

"Is what true?"

He caressed her cheek. "What you implied in your argument with Weasley. The accusation you did not deny."

She stared at him thoughtfully. She had only done that to piss Ron off... hadn't she?

She felt nothing but loathing towards Draco Malfoy, the rude, infuriating boy who had called her a Mudblood too many times to count and who behaved even more immaturely than Ron. But his father...

She couldn't possibly fancy Lucius Malfoy. She could not deny that he had several of the qualities she found attractive in men, but she didn't... she couldn't have feelings for him... right? Right?

Now that she thought of it...

She looked at him, taking in the gleaming blond hair, the way his black robes complemented his complexion and how his piercing grey eyes never left hers, and she wasn't so sure anymore. A terrifying thought came to Hermione: maybe Ron was right.

"I don't know," she answered, her voice low and husky for some reason.

His pale hand moved to sift through her bushy hair as he kissed her again, just as intensely. Hermione melted against him, never wanting this moment to end.

There was another thing Ron lacked: experience and knowledge of how to please a woman.

"Do you really, Hermione?" he repeated, his voice a soft taunt in her ear. The sound of him speaking her first name sent a shiver though her.

"I – I think so."

He looked delighted. "Dear, dear... a friend of Harry Potter has sentiments for a Death Eater. How startling... improper, in fact." Hermione's cheeks burned. "But there is no need to worry, my girl." His eyes glinted with wicked amusement. "I'll keep your secret."

"I'm sure you will." She met his frosty gaze levelly. They weren't so different anymore, now that she had cast an Unforgivable and enjoyed it. That alone condemned her, in the eyes of the Ministry; it made her a Dark witch. "Does it matter that you are a Death Eater? I don't believe you want to kill me," she said matter-of-factly.

"How can you be sure?"

"Why on earth would you teach someone a Dark spell only to kill them afterwards? I don't think you are the sort of person who would waste their time like that. And I doubt you'd want to kill a woman who – as you said – has sentiments for you. I'm too useful to kill."

He fought not to show his surprise. She had seen right through him.

What a clever, intriguing girl, this one... He was sure he wanted to get to know her better.

She touched his sleeve hesitantly. "You are a brilliant teacher. Would you... I mean... I would really like to learn more spells from you." She tried not to blush under his cool, assessing gaze. "It's so different from learning from a book. Even in the Restricted Section, there's so much I can't learn without help."

"Why, my dear girl, are you admitting that you wish to be trained in the Dark Arts?"

She blushed, but held his gaze bravely, just like she had at the Quidditch World Cup. "I want to be trained in every type of magic, without exceptions."

Her determination and hunger for knowledge were impressive, and slightly concerning. He recalled the look on her face as she rained blow after blow upon the Weasley boy with no sign of her anger waning. She had looked murderous with her dark eyes flashing, her hair flying wildly around her. He had been reminded of Bellatrix. He would take care never to earn her wrath as her former boyfriend had.

"So eager," he smirked. "It would be my pleasure to teach you everything you can never learn at school."

Her breathing hitched. "Everything?"

"Even the most obscure of spells, ones you would find in no book."

"I should thank Ron," mused Hermione.

"Speaking of Weasley..." He looked over to where her ex-boyfriend lay unconscious, and Hermione saw a cold smile on his face as he aimed his wand at the motionless lump of red hair and black Hogwarts robes. "Obliviate!"

Ron's form twitched, but gave no other reaction.


"Ron!" Hermione called cheerfully.

"What?" he said testily, propping himself up on his bed in the hospital wing.

Mr Malfoy had modified Ron's memory so that while he remembered his argument with Hermione, he thought he had been attacked afterwards by a masked assailant who had beat and cursed him. That was how he had woken up bruised on a street in Hogsmeade with no clue as to who had done it, and had barely managed to drag himself back to Hogwarts and to the hospital wing.

"You were right, Ron," she said simply.

"Right about what?" he said with a self-satisfied expression. But it didn't bother Hermione, who couldn't wait to see how spectacularly the prat's look would change at her next words.

"Everything," said Hermione, "so I listened to your advice. I've found a new boyfriend, like you suggested."

Ron stared at her with his mouth open. His ears were turning a deep red. "What?" he managed, sounding as though he was being trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs.

"Thanks to you, Ron, I found the perfect boyfriend. You were right, you are not the guy for me – but he is everything you aren't. He is handsome, mature, intelligent, rich, famous, and a perfect gentleman." She paused, then added smugly, "And a damn good kisser too."

Ron's face turned redder with each word. "WHO IS IT?" he shouted. Madam Pomfrey would no doubt come running within moments, but Ron did not seem to be aware of where he was anymore.

Hermione spoke much more quietly this time. "When I said he's famous... well, maybe infamous is a more appropriate word. I mean, to have escaped from Azkaban, murdering several Aurors in the process, isn't most people's idea of celebrity."

Ron's face was slowly turning from red to green. "Who...?"

Hermione whispered in his ear.

Ron fainted.

END


Please don't forget to review. :)

If you liked this, you may also enjoy my longer and more serious Lucius/Hermione story, Unthinkable (/s/2340084).