One More Time

*

A dove cooed softly as it landed on the back of a white metal chair. It took off moments later as a man in the next chair waved it away with a disgusted scowl. The dove fluttered upward and flew just a few feet until it landed on the pavement and began pecking at unseen pieces of food.

“More coffee, sir?”

Blaise looked away from the dove and at the waitress who was standing next to his table.

“No, thank you,” he said simply and the girl smiled, turning and leaving. He sighed and fingered the handle of his cup thoughtfully.

His gaze traveled upwards until it fell on the woman sitting across from him. Pansy was watching him, her gaze calculating. He frowned and picked up his cup, taking a sip.

“So, Blaise,” Pansy said, leaning forward towards him, “last week at the club, you left rather abruptly.”

Blaise made a noise of agreement. “Yes, it was an urgent story the Prophet couldn’t wait for.”

Pansy regarded him for a second, then sat back. “I didn’t see anything big in the paper.”

Blaise shrugged. “Surprised you even read the paper.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “I read more than you think,” she said. “I also read more into things than you think.”

Blaise didn’t reply. He wasn’t really worried about Pansy figuring out his secret. She had never exactly been the sleuthing type. Draco tended to be a lot quicker on the uptake than Pansy had ever been.

“So who did you go to meet after you left us?” Pansy asked, tossing back her long, dark hair. She raised an eyebrow.

Blaise scoffed. “What I do and where I go is none of your business, Pansy.”

Pansy shrugged. “I suppose, but as your friend I would think you might tell me what’s going on.”

“Secrets were never your forte,” Blaise said simply. “As I recall, you can’t even keep your own.”

“So there is a secret?” Pansy asked, crossing her legs and sitting back in her chair.

“Of course there’s a secret,” Blaise said calmly. “Everyone has secrets.”

“It was a girl, then? Someone mummy would approve of, I hope? You haven’t been getting anywhere with her girls lately.”

“You know, sometimes I think maybe you and my mother are working together,” Blaise said.

“If we were, I’d be your wife,” Pansy said blandly. “Your mother has always tried to force us together.”

“She’s moved on. She’s going through a blonde phase.”

Pansy laughed slightly and, noticing an attractive man watching her, uncrossed her legs, and leaned forward, exposing her cleavage a bit more. Blaise simply rolled his eyes. She was an unabashed flirt who had no trouble seducing men for a fun night. Admittedly, he was somewhat similar excepting a few major differences.

It had been two weeks since he’d last seen Hermione. He knew it was a mistake, but this whole thing had been one big mistake.

He had to admit that Hermione was right when she accused him of being at fault. It was his fault, whether he liked it or not.

He knew that after they broke up he shouldn’t have gone back. He shouldn’t have kept up some sort of pseudo-relationship.

Two weeks ago when Hermione had pulled him into her bed and he had touched her, tasted her just like he had done when they were dating, he’d realized something. He was getting too close, far too close. The thought had scared him and he’d taken off as soon as it was light out.

Leaving a pregnant woman alone after sleeping with her was not the most gentlemanlike thing to do, but Blaise had been panicked. He hadn’t felt something like what he’d felt that night for a long time. He had known it was wrong and needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

He was sure Hermione was furious, or at least confused. He recalled doing something similar when they’d been dating. She hadn’t liked it then either.

Now she was nearly three months along. It wouldn’t be long until Hermione began exhibiting the symptoms of a pregnancy. Blaise didn’t know how much longer they would really be able to hide the fact.

He wasn’t worried about telling Draco or Pansy. Though they’d never quite liked Hermione on principle, they wouldn’t be too judgmental. In their circle, something like this wasn’t something to kill a person for. Blaise knew Hermione’s friends were different. They were much more protective of her. They were sure to be angry.

Blaise would heed Hermione’s wish, though, and not tell anyone until she thought they were ready. He wanted to respect her wishes, show that he could handle this. Of course, not contacting her for weeks probably wasn’t the best way to show his responsibility. It was the only way, though.

Pansy was watching Blaise carefully as the silence settled around them. She turned her gaze from the brooding Italian to the street beyond the small café they were at. They were in an old part of town where the cobblestone street was eroding and only bikes really passed by.

The dove from before gave a startled coo as a bike zoomed by, splashing up water. The bird fluttered down on another empty chair, eyeing the empty table.

Pansy glanced back at Blaise, who was watching the dove with unseeing eyes. She raised an eyebrow. Something was definitely wrong with her old friend.

“Blaise,” she said suddenly and he seemed to jerk out of a trance. “You know the last time I saw you like this?”

“Like what?” Blaise drawled, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee.

“That kind of faraway look in your eye, like you’re trying to decide the best course of action.”

Blaise frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“It was when you were still with Granger, when you decided you were getting too close. It was when you decided to break away. As I recall, you broke her sad little Gryffindor heart, and we all know how fragile those are.”

Blaise looked surprised. “What? That’s ridiculous, Pansy.”

“Is it?” she asked. “I swear it’s the same look. I mean, Draco and I agreed Granger wasn’t the best you could have chosen, but we didn’t think your mother would influence you that much.”

“Excuse me?” Blaise asked incredulously.

“Blaise, darling,” Pansy said, imitating his mother. “Hermione’s not the girl for you. You deserve someone better, a pureblood, sweetheart. She will never live up to what you need, what this family needs. Sound familiar?”

Blaise was frowning as Pansy finished. He shook his head. “That’s not what she said.”

“Tomayto, tomahto,” Pansy said waving her hand. “It’s irrelevant, Blaise. But whatever she said, it got in your head and you pulled away from Granger. We all saw it happen.”

“Did you ever think maybe I didn’t love her?” Blaise asked, growing irritated. “Maybe I didn’t see a future.”

Pansy laughed. “Blaise, the longest you ever dated anyone was three weeks. With Granger, you lasted nearly six months. We all thought you were going to propose.”

“What?”

“It was obvious. You loved her. Of course we didn’t approve, but hey, it’s your happiness, not ours.”

“I don’t—I didn’t love her,” Blaise said. He couldn’t believe Pansy was saying this. He’d never said anything to anyone about how he’d felt about Hermione. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to say it,” Pansy said, scoffing. “Anyone could see it.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” Blaise said adamantly. “Hermione and I were just a passing thing. It wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Hermione, is she?” Pansy asked, carefully taking a sip of her tea while raising her eyebrows at Blaise.

Blaise was growing more frustrated by the second. He hated having people tell him how he felt, especially when he didn’t even know.

“Pansy, just drop it. I broke up with her months ago. She’s not in my life anymore.”

Pansy shrugged unconvincingly. “Maybe you want her to be again.”

Blaise stared at her. “Why would you say that?”

Pansy rolled her eyes as though he was being stupid. “Because she was the only one you ever cared about. All those girls after, your mother knows you don’t want any of them. Why do you think she keeps pushing so many? She’s trying to replace Granger, but knows she can’t.”

“You have got it all wrong, Pansy,” Blaise said, wanting nothing more than to go home and forget about everything.

“Do I?” she asked. “Or am I right? You loved Granger, even if you never told her or even yourself, it was there.”

“That’s it,” Blaise said, standing up abruptly. “I’m going home. This is a stupid conversation. I am not in love with Hermione, alright? And my mother was not the cause of our break-up. So if you’ll excuse me.”

With an annoyed huff, Blaise turned and left the table, striding down the street until he vanished around a corner.

Back at the table, Pansy did nothing for a second. Then she tossed her muffin to the dove that was milling around the ground and laughed. “Oh, Blaise, you weren’t in love with her, or you aren’t in love with her? The riddles of the English language.”

And smiling to herself, Pansy said back in her chair, feeding the last of her crumbs to the dove before leaving too.

***

Blaise walked into his living room, brimming with frustration. He wanted to hit something, but instead had to settle for throwing himself angrily into an armchair.

He couldn’t believe Pansy’s audacity. Accusing his mother of specifically breaking him and Hermione up was absurd. His mother wanted him to be happy.

But he wasn’t happy with Hermione. That’s why he’d broken up with her in the first place, right? Right. She was too young, too innocent, too naïve. She had a faith in the world that just didn’t exist. Of course, he supposed he had crushed that faith the day he broke up with her.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. He’d invited her over to his house for dinner and after the dessert, he remembered leaning forward and taking her hand. She’d looked beautiful that night, he remembered.

But that’s all he remembered of what she looked like. After that, she looked devastated. He’d told her he couldn’t see her anymore. He’d said she wasn’t his type; she didn’t have what he needed.

Parts of it had been a lie. Though now he didn’t know what parts. The night seemed like a blur after that. He vaguely remembered her crying and refusing his help.

“Ow,” he said as a feeling wrenched his gut as he sat in the chair, revisiting all his repressed memories.

He sat back and summoned a bottle of brandy and a glass. Pouring himself a glass, he took a gulp, hoping it would calm him down.

He knew he needed to contact Hermione. Two weeks without so much as an Owl was not good. He’d gotten on from her earlier in the week, but he’d simply replied shortly. He hadn’t been interested in explaining himself because he simply didn’t have an explanation.

Blaise knew he shouldn’t have slept with her. He should have said no, pushed her away, put her to bed without himself in it. She had been in a fragile emotional state and he hadn’t stopped her.

He was sure it had to do with that dinner she’d gone to. She’d mentioned something about Potter and Weasley and an engagement. Surely, an engagement announcement when one was pregnant and unmarried couldn’t be very good for her emotional state.

When she’d kissed him, he didn’t know what to do. It was instinctual when he’d kissed her back. He hadn’t meant to, but the feel of her body against his always seemed to do something to his brain.

Sleeping with her was a bad idea, if not only for her sake. He couldn’t risk falling back to what he’d been while dating her. As much as he hated to admit it, Pansy may have had a point.

But it was beside the point. He and Hermione, they didn’t have much of a relationship now. He had never meant for it to go this far. He’d just missed the feeling of her body, the softness of her fingers, her tongue on his skin. It wasn’t meant to go this far. He should never have come back.

It was too late now, though. He was involved with her and the twist he got in his stomach whenever he thought about her was growing stronger.

He had to contact her, and soon. He couldn’t let her think he’d abandoned her. He needed to put his feelings, or whatever they were, aside so he could prove himself to her, and to the raising of his child.

Pouring himself another glass of brandy, he raised it to his lips, then sighed and set it back down.

This was going to be much harder than he’d originally thought, but he wasn’t going to let anything interfere, especially not Pansy’s voice that had somehow lodged itself in his brain.

She was wrong, he thought. I didn’t love Hermione. I don’t. We’re just having a child together… Yeah.

Blaise rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and downed the brandy in one gulp. Setting the glass down, he put his face in his hand. If he was going to figure out anything, he was going to need Hermione to do it.


~~**~~