Hermione put down The Prophet to greet her husband, "Morning." She smiled, watching him fixing his flaming red bed head, "Coffee or tea?"
Ron hugged her small frame and kissed her forehead, "Morning, love. Coffee please. I have so many things to do today."
"New product?"
"Products," he corrected and smiled gratefully when Hermione put his cup on the table. "George and Angeline going to celebrate their anniversary today. So… Yeah."
She sat on the table, facing him. His free hand held her thigh as she passed him the paper. He looked at her questioningly behind his cup.
"Nothing new. Just another news of The Malfoys," she shrugged.
He put down his cup and turned to the page of said news. There, almost covering the whole page, moving pictures of Scorpius and Pansy on their holiday. Morocco, Caribbean, Paris, and more countries that Ron didn't know how to pronounce.
"Where are they now?" He asked casually, folding the news into half and continued stroking her thigh.
"Back at the manor. Thinking to invite them this week, you know, for Albus' birthday," she ran her fingertips along his jaw.
"You know I love it when you wear this stockings," he murmured and nipped her finger.
"I know," she leaned forward to his ear to whisper, "And I'm wearing that lacy black thong, too."
Ron groaned, squeezing her thigh, "You're killing me here, Hermione."
She chuckled and kissed his nose, "Tonight."
"Come on, love. Just the tip?" He pulled the elastic band of her thong then let go, letting it slapped her soft hip.
She moaned at the slight pain, "No, Ronald." She jumped off the table and laughed when Ron spanked her bum on their way to the fireplace.
"Tonight!" He yelled as Hermione disappeared in the green flame.
He walked back to the kitchen ー magically cleaned his cup ー and took the folded paper with him to work.
It was late evening when he decided to send Hermione an owl, telling her he would be late tonight.
Not too late, I hope. We do have plan, if you know what I mean.
Love, Hermione
Ron read her reply with a goofy smile. Even after two kids and under the heavy pressure of being the Minister of Magic, his wife could still excite him like a teenager. He tucked her reply into his pocket and wrote another owl.
The Langham London, 08:00 p.m.
Ron W.
Once he got a reply, he grinned wickedly and closed the shop, getting ready for his night in Muggle London.
He turned off the telly when the soft sound of bell echoed the suite room. He lit the candles and kept the room dimly-lit to set the mood. Looking at his preparation one last time, he opened the door to welcome her.
"Weasley," she said as she walked in and clearly surprised at the interior. "Someone's quietly breeding Galleons," she commented, smirking at him.
"Only to be spent on special occasion," he smirked back and leaned against the closed door.
She sat on the soft bed and hummed happily, satisfied at being treated like a queen. Suspiciously, she asked, "Why the sudden invitation, Weasley?"
Ron chuckled and waved his wand, casting silencing charm and wards for extra security. Seeing her confused face, he explained, "We don't want to get caught now, do we?"
He sat beside her, caressing her naked arm with his knuckle, "How's Caribbean, Pansy?"
Pansy still looked wary but she didn't stop his leisure movement. "Sandy and salty."
"Oh? And you don't like it?" His body turned to her while his other hand slithered under her skirt, touching her tan thighs.
"What are you doing, Weasley?" Her voice was low and her eyes slowly closing under his touch.
"We've been playing this childish push and pull game for quite some times. And I got tired of waiting," he pulled the small string of her dress down, "Or, if I'm just simply misunderstood all the signs, I can leave now."
She shrugged her dress down, leaving it pooled around her waist. She pulled him by his collar and licked his neck, "You got it all right."
He pushed her down onto the soft mattress completely, and watched her exposed chest heaving intently as he pulled her knickers down deliberately slow.
"Red? For my Gryffindor?" He asked, standing up to stand between her dangling legs at the edge of the bed.
She propped herself up with her elbows to look at him seductively, "First impression and all that."
He summoned a small black cloth and tied it behind her head ー covering her eyes. "I heard you like games."
She moaned when he kicked her legs wider and tied each of her ankles to the posters, "Why? Granger doesn't?"
He answered her by filling her wet cunt.
Pansy screamed at the surprise intrusion. She moaned in pleasure as he pushed and pulled in a slow, sensual rhythm, until she started to kick around panicky.
It was useless.
It was too late.
"What's wrong Parkinson? Didn't you say you like games?" He leered.
"Fuck you, Weasley! Stop!" She screamed and tried to get up, but Ron pushed her back down with his weight.
"You know, I have my suspicion. Hermione, too, I daresay," his voice was icy cold yet he didn't stop moving.
She moaned and panicked, all at once. It was comical for Ron to see her pug face contoured like that.
Comical and satisfying.
"Weasley, let me go," she pleaded.
He ignored her plea. "I mean, who wouldn't? You were crazy for Draco. Yet he chose Astoria. You were rejected. Discarded. Thrown away like a ragged cloth." He watched her mouth gaping, feeling disgusted at the feeling of her breasts rubbing on his clothed chest. "So you figured, why not Scorpius?"
She wailed when he pushed deeper.
"Stop!" She sobbed.
"But just being Scorpius' wife wasn't enough. It was never enough for Pansy. Pansy got to have everything. Pansy got to have Galleons, Pansy got to have big manor, Pansy got to have title." Ron choked her, happy to feel her quickened pulse under his touch. "But why Albus?"
He got up and magically tied her wrists together. She tried to push her body up when a cocking sound filled the room.
She froze and started to cry uncontrollably. "Weasley, please."
He pushed the gun deeper into her cunt. "Why Albus, Parkinson?"
"I promise I'll tell you everything. I swear on my magic! But please... Merlin, please. Take the Muggle killing machine out."
Ron laughed maniacally. "So you do know how this thing works! Brilliant!" He wiggled the gun, "And I'm going to expect answers now, Pansy. Or this will go... How do they sound like again? Oh, yeah!
"BANG."
She bit her quivering lower lip to bleed and hastily nodded. "Yes. Yes! I told him to kill Albus!"
"Why?"
"Because he tried to stop him from meeting me! He threatened to tell Potter!"
Ron was eerily quiet, pulling the gun out of her and took the cloth off her eyes.
She looked at him in relief and kept mouthing thank you.
"Oh, witch. You got the wrong idea!" He moved to stand between her legs again. "I took it off so you can watchー" he put the gun back into her cunt "ーthe adorable red liquid splattered off your cunt."
He pulled the trigger once.
Pansy screamed her voice hoarse. Begging and cursing him all at once. "YOU CRAZY LOYAL GRYFFINDOR FOOL!"
He pulled the trigger second.
She tried to kicked him away with her weak legs. It only made her situation worse as she could feel the burn from the gunshots on her thighs and inside her.
He pulled the trigger third.
She fell back. Blood was trickling down from her throat, her chest, her holed stomach. Her eyes were wide open, staring at him unseeingly.
He pulled the trigger fourth.
Just to make sure.
Hermione put down The Prophet to greet her husband, "Morning." She smiled, watching him fixing his flaming red bed head that she'd ran her fingers thoroughly in last night, "Coffee or tea?"
Ron hugged her small frame and kissed her forehead, "Morning, love. Tea please. I feel relaxed today."
"Ravished?" She added innocently and laughed when Ron pinched her bum.
He took his seat, rubbing his face sleepily as he watched his wife moved here and there.
"Read the paper, Ron," she told him without turning.
He obliged and scanned the paper. There, the Malfoys, as always. But this time it wasn't because of their holidays and bikinis.
"Mrs. Malfoy was found in an extremely devastating condition at one of the luxurious Muggle Hotel last night," he read out loud.
She sat on the table and put his tea beside her. "It was horrible. Harry owled this morning. Apparently she got shot with a gun."
He stroked her thigh up and down soothingly, "Did they find who did it?"
She nodded. "The CCTV, that security camera that record everything, managed to capture the man when he was booking the suite. Blonde hair, short, chubby."
"Muggle?"
Hermione kissed his head before she jumped off the table. "Yup. They identified him as one of the janitor. He hung himself though."
Ron took a sip of his tea.
"If I didn't know any better, I would think someone polyjuiced themselves to kill her," she looked amused with her own idea.
Ron sipped more.
"Scorpius going to stay at Harry's for a few days. He'd lost his parents, and now his wife." Hermione pulled him up and the couple walked together to the fireplace.
"Go and see him if you're free, Ron. He could use some Ronald's magical pep talk."
Ron grunted his agreement.
"He's just a boy, Ron."
"Alright alright. But, it's because I love you."
Hermione smiled sweetly at her husband before she left to work.
Ron walked back to the kitchen, scratching his freckled chest as he yawned. He picked up the paper and looked at the moving picture of Scorpius. He burnt the paper with a flick of his wrist as he muttered, almost sarcastically.
"Just a boy."