"All the world's a stage…" began Severus Snape in all his splendor. "…and all the men and women in it, merely players. We all have our entrances and exits"
The students were listening with rapt attention. The Professor was one of the mad, yet powerful celebrities of Hogwarts. The students were fascinated by him, for good reason. His classes were void of the incessant chatting that would be inevitable in any other class.
"Willy's willy was a wily old instrument" The good Professor chuckled to himself. "Shakespeare truly has a way with words, doesn't he?" Even though it was quite a rhetorical question, the students found themselves nodding seriously.
The story of Willy's willy was profoundly well known, and yet enigmatic in its meaning. Even after several centuries of dissecting the epic which had been found in the ruins of an ancient ritual site, it was still tantalizingly unclear whether Shakespeare had been talking about Willy's life or Willy's own willy which was peculiar, or Willy's wily nature which lent him luck in bedding so many young maidens despite his grotesque willy. It was one of the most lauded works of Shakespeare in the Wizarding World. Academics in the literary field would scratch their heads for months pondering the tale of Willy and his willy. However, the tale found its practical application several centuries later.
It was a stormy and dark morning in the winter. When she awoke, she found something strange about her surroundings. As she shifted, she felt a sudden gust of wind upon her tender skin.
She flinches, and then realizes that she is clothed by only a thin sheet. She panicked and tried to get up, but the restraints held her in place.
Fear coursed through her, when she heard a rough voice. "Don't fear, Fleur, because it won't help."
Immobulus Voluntes! Cast the man in his ragged voice, forbidding most of Fleur's voluntary muscle movements. Then he undid her restraints, lifted her from the bed, made her stand on the floor and clamped her hands in yet another pair of restraints, hanging from a metal bar above.
Her hands were held above her by the restraints, and he adjusted the bar height in such a way that her hands were held neither too taut nor too loose.
He looked at her for a while, watching her naked chest rising and falling rapidly in panic, as a hunter might watch his prey. He then removed his face mask.
Fleur was shocked to see that it was Ronald Weasley, Bill's least impressive brother. She couldn't believe it…that she was being held captive by Ronald Weasley of all people.
Upon seeing her expression, he began "It seems that you've forgotten the wager between us. I've won and you've lost, which means that you'll have to submit to me for the next twenty four hours."
A look of dawning realization descended on her face, with a touch of awful fear. He removed the ballgag from her mouth. Fleur didn't scream.
"My father's the French Minister for Magic, you-"
Ron laughed. "It's alright. I'm not gonna force anything on you. It's going to be wholly your choice. I understand that I'm not particularly your type. But I've also seen that the type of men you choose are a little bit…girly. It's time for a change, don't you think?"
He took a sealed flask out of a nearby desk, and chugged it slowly, but noisily. As soon as he got to three-fourth level mark, he could not no longer drink any more… He dropped the flask where it smashed on the floor.
Ronald Weasley changed before her eyes. He had already shedded his clothes on the floor. The man who stood before her was a specimen of the old world. There were no abs, no marking tattoos, or any specific cultural indications. He was robust and stone-like, and his voice was iron when he spoke. His little guy was already standing upright, for there was no denying Fleur's womanly charm.
As he inched closer to her in that frame, that potent body filled with the elements of the wild, her breath hitched, caught in her throat. He went behind her deliberately, and placed his rough hands on her shoulders. Before she could say another word, he planted his lips on her the side of her neck. Fleur trembled on the contact, but stoically refrained from making a sound. Ron noticed this, and began kissing her from top of her spine, slowly moving towards the base. Fleur made a whimpering sound with every kiss, she realized that the Veela in her was reacting to the brutishness of the man's appearance.
He undid her restraints. But she couldn't move away, as the immobulus was still active. He carried her over to the bed, tied her wrists behind her back. He lubricated her with his lips, disregarding the moans that tore out of her throat. After sufficient time, he stopped.
"Now, I'm going to ravish you like I've never ravished anyone before. If you want out, now's your chance to say it."
She was silent, of course. Veela had needs, and Bill just didn't understand the gravity of that. Ron nodded to himself, and turned her over on her back. He held Fleur by her hands behind her back, her front portion resting on the soft semi-flexible bed.
He mounted her in all his heavenly glory for a while, until he spilled his seed. Thus, Ronald attained self actualization. However, he had forgotten an important detail. Coitus with Veela require special energy potions, which he had failed to take. There was a good reason why Bill limited his sexual exchanges with Fleur.
The next morning, Ron was found with a frozen smile on his face, his body stiff and unmoving. While his family grieved for him, the ghost of Shakespeare was satisfied that one of the most unattractive guys at Hogwarts had gotten laid because of the epic tale of Willy.
And God sitting in his golden throne was reluctantly forced to allow Shakespeare to once more resurrect himself into a wizard body of his choosing ,as per the terms of their agreement, which would be used to satisfy his dark desires.
All was well in the big bad world.