100 Ways to Kill a Weasley

A Tale of Two Bludgers



by Lisa Jean



It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Or so Hermione Granger kept thinking. The war was over. She was engaged to Ron Weasley, who was currently enjoying success as Keeper for the Chudley Cannons. And her career was in full swing. She was achieving many goals in the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a barrister.



As wonderful as all of this sounds, she had a huge problem that made these post-war times that should have been the best in her life more complicated than her school years and the year of camping during the worst of the war. She was falling in love and it was not with her fiancé, but with her current client: Severus Snape.



Despite the testimony of Harry Potter, the prevailing post-war climate of fear and prejudice towards anyone associated with Voldemort, his Death Eaters, their control of the Ministry, Hogwarts, and in general what was known as the year of terror, Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during said year of terror, was convicted of crimes against wizard kind, being a member of a subversive group, and the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Harry, Hermione, and others all testified on his behalf. Even Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt testified for the sardonic man; he received his lowest approval rating in the weeks following the trial. Although for political reasons, he had publicly backed off of his support, approving a junior barrister (Hermione) as lead council in the appeal, and silently vowing that upon reelection, his first order of business to be a full pardon of the irascible ally, allowing plenty of time for public opinion to die down and forget the act.



Thus, Hermione Granger found herself, in what should have been the best time of her life, relishing in an escalating career, planning her wedding, and all the things that practical young women dream of, she was instead wondering how she could find herself in love with two divergently different men. One sweet, kind, supportive, if not brilliant, at least smart in his own, if not quick-witted, at least strong for strategy in games like chess and Quidditch; too bad she wasn’t extremely fond of either. The other, was brilliant, reclusive, jaded, and nearly as insufferable as he often accused her of being; yet, when pushed he carried on profound conversations, and despite his tendency toward self-condemnation, was integral to his own defence.



One month before aforementioned appeal was to be presented before the Wizengamot, Hermione, took a rare day off. One that was taken to appease her fiancé and his family, that she was not forsaking them for her client. However, she’d really rather be working on Severus’s appeal than sitting at Bodmin Moor watching the Chuddley Cannons being demolished by the Tutshill Tornados. She felt sorry for her fiancé, who seemed to be having the worst game of his professional career, and most definitely his worst game since his debut in his fifth year at school, when the Slytherins began to sing “Weasley is our King.” At this point, just an hour into the match, the Cannons were losing to the Tornadoes 200 to 20, and the Snitch was no where in sight.



It was at this point of the match that things went from bad to worse. The Tornados had control of the Quaffle and were racing towards the Cannon’s goal posts. The Seekers of both teams finally spotted the Snitch, dangling not far above Ron Weasley’s head and the goal posts of the Cannon’s. As all of the action converged at the Cannon’s territory, the Beaters of the Tornados went in to break it up, in an attempt to clear the way for their Seeker who was inching out the Cannons’ Seeker. The Tutshill Beaters volleyed the Bludger back and forth as best they could.



Suddenly the stadium was in an uproar as several things happened at once. Brevis Birch, captain for the Tornados, launched the Quaffle through the Cannons’ southernmost goal post, while the Seeker for the Cannons’ reached for the Snitch that was hovering over the same goal. One of the Tornados’ Beaters levied the Bludger towards the mess, while the other prepared to receive it. Unfortunately, just as the second Beater moved in to swing at the Bludger, Ron Weasley moved in to catch the Quaffle. As Weasley caught the Quaffle, the Bludger hit him in the head; the second Beater could not stop this swing, hitting Weasley’s head at the same time as the Bludger. The Seeker of the Cannons missed the Snitch as he watch the Keeper, bludgeoned head, blood, and brains, fall to the bottom of the pitch. While the Cannons gathered around their fallen mate, the Tornados Seeker snatched the Snitch and the match.



Hermione sat in the stands horrified, screaming hysterically at the sight of her fiancé’s body and its mangled head falling lifelessly to the ground. She did not remember being ushered out of the stadium or being taken to the Burrow to be consoled. Nor did she remember the next week as mourners and well-wishers dropped by to pass on their condolences. She was vaguely aware of the attending the funeral, closed casket, of course. However, it was the argument between her client, Severus Snape, and the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, on her first day back to work that brought about any level of consciousness in her.



“She’s in no fit state to help or defend you, Severus,” Kingsley patiently pleaded with the acerbic man. “Besides another month will likely guarantee success. People are starting to calm down, and with her recent tragedy, will likely be compassionate towards anything she does at the moment.”



“I don’t care about compassion from sheep that only go along the majority to avoid being inconvenienced. I don’t care about the outcome of this farcical appeal. What I do care about is just getting it over and done with so that I can disappear, either in Azkaban or Yorkshire, I don’t care which, and be done with people in general!”



“He’s right, Minister,” Hermione tremulously interrupted. They stared at her, not expecting to see her so soon. “And besides, if you want sympathy on our sides, we need to do this soon. A couple of days to a week, at most, should be enough of a delay to seem appropriate without causing Mr. Snape too much discomfort, or making me appear to be to callous and career oriented. I’ve taken a bit more than a week off, longer than I would have liked, but I was ahead when, when, well, I was ahead in my preparations. Harry’s been well prepared for this, all of Dumbledore’s notes are set aside – his portrait is insisting to make a visit – and well, I can’t see that I’d be any more prepared seven weeks from now than I would three or four weeks from now. A small postpone, is necessary, Mr. Snape.” She pointed this directly at her client. “While I don’t agree with your desire to completely disappear, I think we have a good chance to win, particularly if we don’t milk this, this. . .” She paused to compose herself “. . .Tragedy.”



“Fine, Miss Granger, I will yield to your opinion in this, however, I will not accept a postponement of more than a week. If there is nothing else that you need of me, please kindly have the guards return me to my cell.” His annoyance at the situation showed in his voice.



Kingsley pressured the Wizengamot for the full week, but accepted to two days the court offered when it agreed to hear from the portrait of Dumbledore.



Hermione for her part, spent most of that time secluded in a small cell in the lowest levels of the Ministry reserved for criminals awaiting trials. Severus had been moved there from Azkaban as his appealed moved closer. However, she was not completely reclusive. She made a few appearances in public, dressed tastefully in black mourning robes. Lunching with Harry and Ginny was her most frequent public activity. However, the most useful was a luncheon with Molly where they were both cornered by the press just days before the appeal. Tearfully Molly sobbed to the press that her son would be “proud that Hermione had not abandoned her sense of self with his loss and was working to correct grievous wrongs in our society as she has done since she joined our world.”



A photo of Molly hugging Hermione graced the front page of the Daily Prophet, right underneath the headline: Grieving Mother Supports the Defence of Snape.



Showing it to Severus the next day, Hermione hid a small smile.



“Nice,” he replied.



“Actually, it was Harry’s idea and Molly jumped on it,” Hermione began rambling. “Of course, she’s still devastated by losing Ron so close to Fred, but she just hates the lynching mentality of convicting anyone and everyone by association. After all, while two negatives may make a positive, two wrongs don’t make a right, and that’s what people are trying to do, put things to right by getting rid of anyone and everyone who reminds them of the year of terror without even thinking it through. It’s completely unjust, but then the wizarding world is no stranger to injustice . . .”



He watched her rant for several minutes on several social ills before he decided he needed to do something before he become annoyed with her, or worse, completely aroused by her. Vowing early in life to never hit a woman, like his father had done countless times in front of him, he stood from his chair, grabbed her by her arms, and kissed her. It was not completely chaste, but neither was it erotic or breathtaking. Her lips were slightly open from talking, but he kept his firmly shut, not daring to venture into tabooed territory.



Hermione for her part stayed frozen in shock until he released her, and then just stared at him waiting for him to explain, not knowing what to feel or whether or not to ask for another.



“I had to do something to shut you up.” He shrugged as he returned to his seat.



She continued to stare, torn between elation and guilt. Ten minutes later, when she was still frozen, he called for his guard to escort her safely, to the Floos, stating that it seemed his barrister was suffering from stress and over-work.



The guard, of course, leaked this to the press, which garnered them another headline: Barrister Enduring Ill-Health, Stress, and Personal Loss While Working to Correct Social Injustice.



Hermione spent the hours leading up to the appearance before the Wizengamot pacing Severus’s cell, while the man himself merely smirked at her. However, all of that pacing was for not. Between Albus Dumbledore’s portrait and the sympathetic press, the ruling was made in record time. There next headline read: Wizengamot Clears Snape of All Charges: Former Headmaster Reinstated!



So, Severus Snape returned to the one place that he had ever considered home: Hogwarts. Hermione Granger continued on, taking Stan Shunpike as her next client. However, neither was completely content.



It started with Severus inviting Hermione to lunch at the school to offer his testimony in favor of misguided Night Bus conductor. It continued on with him offering information to convict Death Eaters that the public outcry had missed and on those that were wrongfully convicted by said same public outcry. It ended up being dinner and weekend visits just to enjoy each others company. And before the year was out the two featured prominently in another headline: Hogwarts Headmaster Snape and Ministry Barrister Granger to Wed in Autumn Ceremony.



November First found the two wed and being a new life together. As Hermione Snape lay in the arms of her husband she looked back on the events that led to her marriage to one of the most challenging men in the wizarding world. She thought on what her life might have been like as a Weasley, and decided that though she loved him, life with him would not have been as fulfilling as she would have liked. Drifting off to sleep in the arms of Severus Snape, she knew that this life would be better and thought, “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”

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I really must give profuse thanks to the wonderful Ms. Figg who has so graciously allowed us this wonderful series! These stories have been extremely fun to read and write. There’s not a dud in the bunch! To all authors: Well Done! To those who have not yet posted: Come on! What’s keepin’ ya?



Legal Stuff: The characters, places, etc do not belong to me, they were all created by someone else who has made more money than many of us will ever see off of them. I haven’t made a knut! The first line and the last line, of course, are not mine either. They belong to one of the most talented writers our world has ever seen, and I do hope I have not disturbed his rest in borrowing them, but the idea to use them, just seemed to come with this idea.



Hopefully now, I can get back to my own stories, which are waiting not so patiently for me to get around to finishing them. – LJ