One More Time

*

Hermione was sifting through a pile of parchment as a soft knock sounded on her office door. Glancing up, she paused, but after a moment, arranged the parchment into a neat pile.

“Come in,” she called professionally, remaining sitting in her chair.

The door creaked open and a man stepped in, shutting it carefully behind him.

“Blaise,” Hermione said, surprised. “You’re here.” She paused, as though trying to figure why he was there. “Wh—but you—I haven’t seen you in—“

“Since we slept together, yes,” Blaise finished her sentence, sitting down in the chair opposite her.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” she said slowly, watching him. His legs were crossed casually and he was leaning back in the chair, not really looking at her. He appeared to be examining the paper weight on her desk, a heavy rock shaped as a Phoenix.

Running his finger over the curve of the bird’s wing, Blaise shifted back, glancing at Hermione for a second. “My behavior has not been the best lately. I apologize for any anxiety I may have caused.”

Hermione shook her head and wrinkled her nose in disagreement. “Stop being so formal,” she said, staring at him. “Why are you really here? To apologize for not contacting me for three weeks? I can understand maybe you running away in the morning. We didn’t plan it and I suppose it wasn’t the best idea in our present state, but not a word for weeks, Blaise? I suppose you’ve already forgotten what you said.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Blaise said, a hint of agitation in his voice. “Why the hell do you think I came back?”

“Why did you leave?” Hermione countered. “You could have left a note, an excuse of some kind, but you didn’t have an excuse, did you?”

Blaise sighed, knowing she was angry with him. He had known she would be. His behavior had not been admirable, especially considering the circumstances. If she had been any other random girl, it wouldn’t have mattered.

But she wasn’t any other girl. She was Hermione, the woman pregnant with his child, the woman he had meant to leave almost a year ago. He’d meant to break up with her and move on, but it hadn’t worked that way.

“No, I don’t have an excuse,” Blaise said, cutting her off before she could get into her stride. “But what does it matter? I’m here now.”

“Yes, and for how long this time?” Hermione asked. “Until something else happens and you get scared? You think this is easy for me? You are not reliable, Blaise. I never could rely on you, and now I have to. It’s scary and just thinking about it makes me nervous, but I don’t run away. I don’t stop talking to you for a month. I take responsibility. I know that this baby is going to be hard. It’s going to be horrible at times. I’m not going to sleep for months and for the rest of my life, I’ll be worrying about someone. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and have to check to see my child is still there. I know this is going to be so hard. And I can’t do it alone. I’m not as strong as I need to be.”

“You are strong,” Blaise said, standing up. “You’ve handled your life wonderfully so far. You still have things to learn, but we all do. You can’t expect it to just come to you in a flash. You, of all people, should know that knowledge is more than instinct. It’s time and dedication.”

“Stop,” Hermione said suddenly. “You’re not allowed to come in here after being gone for weeks and tell me that everything’s going to be fine. You, the man who ran away after one night of support, you can’t tell me it’s about research and dedication. You don’t know what it is to be dedicated to something. Tell me, how long was your longest relationship?”

Blaise paused, looking away from her and fiddling with the leaves of a fichus in the corner. “Six months,” he said finally.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but stopped as she realized. “Oh,” she said. Then after a moment, “Well, look how that turned out. A year later, here we are. You couldn’t commit and now you’re forced to, if you’re going to follow through.”

“I always follow through on my promises,” Blaise said sternly.

“Which is exactly why you never made me any promises, wasn’t it?” Hermione asked testily. “I know how your mind works, Blaise.”

Blaise turned around, his expression exasperated. “Well, what are you going to do about it? We’re in this mess and there’s no getting out. Whether or not I make promises is irrelevant. We have to work around our faults if we’re going to do this.”

“Do this?” Hermione repeated, staring at Blaise in disbelief. “I’ve been trying, really, but every time I think you might actually hold up your end, you vanish. What am I supposed to think? You tell me we can handle this, and then you leave. You say you believe in me but then take away my trust. How can I believe you?”

Blaise sighed. “You can’t, and if you don’t want to, Hermione, I understand.”

“Oh no,” Hermione said as he turned to leave. “You’re not getting out of this that easy.” She stood up and walked around her desk. “You said you were committed, and though I don’t believe it, somewhere inside me, and I know I’m going to hate myself for this later, I think you might have been telling the truth. From now on, though, you’re going to have to prove yourself. If you run away again, I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“I’m not,” Blaise said firmly.

Hermione gave him a skeptical look. “Mhmm.”

Blaise rolled his eyes and walked over to her, raising a hand to her cheek. “I do tell the truth,” he said softly.

Hermione was watching him carefully, her eyes locked with his as he moved closer. There was a pause and she was sure he was going to kiss her, but a knock on the door caused him to stop, shake his head slightly and step back.

Without waiting for Hermione, the door opened.

“Hermione, I need to ask you somethi…” Harry trailed away as his eyes traveled over Hermione and Blaise, who were standing in the middle of the room, each avoiding the other’s gaze.

“What is it?” Hermione asked finally, breaking the awkward silence that had descended.

With a careful and suspicious glance at Blaise, Harry entered the room fully, leaving the door open. “It’s private,” he said, still watching Blaise.

Blaise scoffed. “Don’t mind me, Potter. I was just leaving.” He glanced at Hermione momentarily, then turned and swept out of the room.

Harry watched him suspiciously until he turned the corner, then shut the door quickly. “Is something going on?” he asked, looking at Hermione, who had turned and gone back to her desk.

“No, Harry, he’s just writing an article about the new program,” Hermione lied quickly.

“Well, he’s sure been hanging around here an awful lot lately,” Harry said darkly.

“Once, Harry,” Hermione said. “He’s been here once in the past three months. That’s hardly a lot.”

“He shouldn’t be here at all,” Harry said, frowning. “He shouldn’t be bothering you. That’s a real bastard thing to do after what he did.”

“It’s fine, Harry.” Hermione sighed, taking her seat. She really didn’t want to discuss Blaise with Harry. She made a mental note to tell Blaise to stop visiting her at work. Turning around in her chair, she glanced at Harry. “So what did you want to ask me?”

Harry didn’t answer, now staring at the door through which Blaise had left. He looked back at Hermione, his expression questioning. “Hermione, what’s going on here?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, knowing perfectly well what he meant.

“You’ve been acting strange lately and now Zabini is here writing some article. You don’t think it’s more than just a coincidence that he’s here?”

“I think he takes his job seriously,” Hermione said calmly. “If it brings him here, than we just have to deal with it.”

“You aren’t the least bit suspicious about his motives?” Harry pushed.

Hermione sighed. “I know you’re an Auror and everything, Harry, but not everyone is up to something.” Harry didn’t look like he agreed and opened his mouth to protest more, but Hermione stopped him. “Just drop it,” she said sternly. “It’s not your concern.”

Harry frowned at her tone but in the end shrugged his shoulders, still looking like he didn’t believe her.

“Okay,” Hermione said, taking a breath. “So was there an actual reason you came to see me?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It’s Padma’s birthday next month and I was actually wondering if you might do me a favor.” He grinned at her hopefully.

“What?” she asked cautiously.

“Well, you know how horrible I am at gifts, so I was thinking maybe you could help me pick out a gift?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, surprised. “Of course.”

“Really?” Harry asked. “That’s great! Thanks, Hermione.”

“Any idea what she likes?”

“Er…”

“We’ll figure it out when we go shopping,” Hermione said and Harry grinned.

“I knew I could count on you.”

Hermione smiled but avoided his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice as he moved toward the door. “We’ll pick a time later, yeah?” he asked, his hand on the doorknob.

“Sure,” Hermione agreed.

“Thank again, Hermione, you’re a real lifesaver.”

Then Harry was gone and Hermione was left alone in her office to think about what Harry had said about Blaise. He was getting suspicious and that wasn’t good. Padma already suspected something and now Harry too.

She sighed. As long as no one found out, she was alright. She’d just have to tell Blaise not to come to work anymore. She couldn’t risk the exposure and it was suspicious enough to even have him around.

As she leant back in her chair, she hoped everything would be alright. Only six more months to go. She sat up, pulling the pile of parchment she’d been working on towards her, intending to throw herself into her work for the rest of the day and not think about the future for the moment.

***

Blaise sat down in his armchair with a sigh, gazing out the glass door to his patio where the warm July sun beat down on the green foliage of the plants his gardener kept well-watered. He knew Hermione was right about him. He had abandoned her, hadn’t kept up his end of the deal. She was right. He didn’t make promises because making a promise was a commitment, and once a commitment was made, he was obligated to follow through.

Blaise gazed out the door, watching a yellow butterfly flutter down onto a red flower and sit there for a minute, its small wings fluctuating in the air. He couldn’t let himself be scared anymore. There was nothing to be afraid of, he told himself.

A knock sounded on the front door and Blaise turned his head as he heard the maid answering the door. He had never kept House Elves even though his mother had offered him a few. He preferred paid servants; it somehow eased his conscience.

His mother dismissed the maid and swept into the living room, catching sight of Blaise in the chair and coming over to him, kissing him on the cheek before taking a seat in the white leather chair opposite him. She crossed her legs delicately and smiled at her son, tossing back her dark hair.

“Blaise, darling, how are you?” she asked, rearranging her gold bracelets.

Blaise shrugged. “Fine, mother,” he replied in a bored tone. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Honey, you know I don’t drink this early in the afternoon,” Isabella said. She glanced at the clock. It was nearly two in the afternoon. “Wait ten minutes. Now, Blaise,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “you recall Robert’s funeral?”

“Yes,” Blaise said carefully, thinking that he needed a drink.

“I don’t know if you remember, but there was a lovely girl there. Her name was Vanessa Winchester. Her family is quite rich. Her father invented a potion to stop hair loss in older wizards.”

“Your point, mother?” Blaise asked, thinking he really needed that drink now.

“I think you’d like her very much,” Isabella said. “I’ve set something up. You’re not busy on Tuesday, are you, darling?”

Blaise sighed and raised a hand to his temple. “No,” he said finally. “Where shall I meet her?”

“Oh, wonderful, Blaise, I knew you would do it. She’s a delightful girl. Go to La Petite Maison at eight on Tuesday. You’ll know her. She’ll be the pretty brunette with the gorgeous green eyes.”

Blaise nodded. It was another day, another girl. It had taken his mother much longer this time to find one for him. Usually she could have another lined up the day after his break-up. He wondered what caused the delay.

He would humor her, though. He would go out with this girl for a week or two, then tell her it wasn’t working. Most weren’t smart enough to even figure out what was going on before he’d broken it off.

Isabella smiled contentedly and settled back in her chair. “I think I will have that drink now,” she said pleasantly.

Blaise called in the maid and asked her to bring them some drinks. As the woman turned to leave, Blaise whispered to her, “And make mine a double.”

The young woman smiled understandingly at Blaise with a glance at his mother, then turned to fetch their order, disappearing into the kitchen as Blaise sank back into his chair with a sigh.


~~**~~