Chapters 191-200

A Weasley Family Match

‘Come on, Perce, if you want to become a rose-herder, you’ll have to do better than that!’ Harry taunted and dipped down right in front of Percy, only to shoot almost straight up into the sky again mere inches away from his broom-twigs.

The air was crisp this January afternoon, the sun brilliant. A perfect day for Quidditch. Harry’s gaze roamed the sky. With fresh snow on the ground, the air sparkled with golden reflections. Today it would be difficult even for him to spot the snitch quickly. Several yards below, Percy hunched over his broom, his shoulders drawn up. Percy had a lot to get out of his system. He’d lost his job at the Ministry for good and the outcome of his up-coming interview to become a herder of horse-roses down in Cornwall was anything but a sure thing.

Harry cursed under his breath. Weasley family matches were fiercely competitive even if one member didn’t have anything vital to prove to the family. The one time when Fred and George had managed to sell tickets to a family match to retired players of the Cannons and the Harpies was the stuff of legend.

Damn, damn, damn. He deeply regretted that his plan of defeating Percy in the abbreviated version of Quidditch of ‘Catch the Snitch’ had failed But obviously that would have been too much to ask for. He and Percy, two brooms and a snitch in a darkening January evening. It would have been quick and painless. Over in a blink.

What he got instead was this bloody brilliant, glittering January afternoon and an Order meeting turned Quidditch match.

And Hermione as Chaser on his team.

Though she wasn’t even that bad, he had to admit. Although Hermione was much too cautious to be a good flyer, aim was accurate and her throws passable. Of course she was no match for Fleur Weasley, the Keeper for Percy’s team. On the other hand Hermione’s ‘happy’ expression at having to play had effectively curdled a jug of milk, so maybe one glance from her would prevent Percy from having the streak of luck he so richly deserved but must not enjoy today of all days…

oooOooo

‘Merlin, Percy! Keep your eyes open!’ Ron growled after Harry’s ‘shooting-star’tack had almost thrown Percy off his broom. ‘You’re still a Weasley! We have a reputation to maintain!’

Percy winced, but obediently nudged his broom higher. He wished he could have refused playing. But of course that was quite impossible. Being invited to play Seeker at a Weasley family match was the highest honour the clan could bestow. That happened only if the whole family was inordinately proud of your accomplishments or if everyone thought that you needed some serious cheering-up.

Percy rather doubted he’d ever feel cheerful again. He should have noticed…he should have helped…he should have saved Kingsley…he should…If wishes were broomsticks…It was even worse that Harry was right: he needed to be quick on his broom if he wanted the job in Cornwall. For all the peace and quiet he desired to find among the herds of horse-roses and their bees, it was definitely not a desk job.

Fuck desk jobs. By now it was clear that he sucked at desk jobs, no matter how much he loved them. It was time for a change. And this time, his family supported him. In spite of everything. He drew a shuddering breath. You’re still a Weasley.

I’m a Weasley, he thought. Weasleys don’t give up. He soared higher and squinted in the glare of sunlight, staring around for the elusive gleam of the snitch. I’m still a Weasley. He clenched his teeth.

He’d catch the snitch today.
He’d get the job in Cornwall.
And he’d never return to London in his life.

Below him, Ron gestured imperiously to his fellow Chasers, Alina and Ginny.

‘At ’em, girls!’ Ron shouted.

oooOooo

Severus glared at Harry, although he was fairly sure that Potter was too far away to observe his facial expression. A Quidditch game to alleviate stress? To reduce the general tension? What was he playing at?

And although it was rather an Order meeting turned Quidditch match, including a few guests, it was still a Weasley family match.And you did not refuse an invitation to participate in a Weasley family match.

Not even Hermione.

He batted forcefully at a bludger and sent it hurtling towards Draco, while keeping an eye out for Hermione. If anything happened to Hermione because of this foolishness…It was painfully obvious that Hermione didn’t like flying. Her prim posture. The way she carefully clutched at the broom. Though her aim was surprisingly precise and her throws lacked merely strength and experience.

He recalled Rolanda Hooch’s theory of how a person’s behaviour on a broom told you exactly how much self-confidence they had.

Severus narrowed his eyes as he observed his wife. Now, at the beginning of the match, the game was still slow—the players were trying to get a feel for the members of their team as well as of the flying style of their opponents…

Was Hermione really that insecure?

Memories of Hermione flashed through his mind—the painfully overeager child, lips pressed together, eyes huge, arm thrust straight into the air—the shocked, disbelieving expression at two scant words of praise only last year…

How could a witch be so brave and brilliant and still doubt herself?

What’s that? A bludger racing straight at Hermione? Never mind that she was on the other team—damn!—he’d never get there in time—Merlin’s bollocks, what was that?!—

A scowl. A jerk. A bumpy, clumsy drop of around three feet. And Hermione grinned mischievously at her husband, while Bill vigorously lobbed the bludger at Ron.

Severus gasped with relief. Good grief, he may have survived meeting Death Personified, but right now he wasn’t sure if he’d make it through this match!