One More Time

*

The next Tuesday found Blaise wearing a nice suit and walking into La Petite Maison, glancing around for anyone that might look like someone his mother might select for him.

The maitre de stopped Blaise as he walked past his stand. “Excuse me, sir, may I help you?”

“I’m meeting someone,” Blaise said, glancing around the room. The lights were low over the bar and many small tables were lit with individual candles. Cozy couples were talking to each other in quiet voices. Blaise asked himself sarcastically just what his mother was hinting at.

He spotted a woman sitting at a table situated near the wall. She was tall and pretty with long, dark hair that fell over her shoulders in perfectly sculpted waves. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight as she sipped her drink. She looked as though she was waiting for someone.

Sidestepping the maitre de, Blaise sauntered casually to the woman’s table.

“Vanessa?” he asked.

The woman looked up, her eyes taking in Blaise’s appearance. She didn’t look very excited. She stirred her drink and tilted her head to the side. “Blaise, I presume?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t what Blaise had been expecting.

Most of the girls his mother set him up with were…vapid, there was no other word for it, and their voices reflected that; high-pitched and constantly giggling. This woman’s voice was nowhere near that. Her tone was almost bored and her gaze appraising as he took his seat opposite her and ordered a drink from the server.

Blaise took a moment to observe this girl. She was taller than the others, with long, shapely legs that were shown off by her mid-length dress. Her face was very pretty, but she wasn’t smiling.

“I take it you don’t want to be here?” Blaise asked, watching her stir her drink with a long straw.

“Wow,” she said, sitting back and sounding completely unimpressed. “My father said you were smart, but I didn’t think you’d be so observant.” Her tone was sarcastic and she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink.

Blaise was taken aback. No girl his mother had ever chosen had been like her. Most were thrilled to go out with him, and even more thrilled when he asked them back to his place.

He raised an eyebrow as she set her drink back on the table and watched him expectantly.

“My, we are vicious, aren’t we?” he drawled, accepting his drink from the server. “Tell me, Vanessa, you treat all your dates like this?”

Vanessa leaned forward, her expression challenging. “Tell me, Blaise, would you be here if your mother hadn’t forced you?”

Blaise paused, then smirked. “Depends. Was it worth my while?”

“Doubtful,” Vanessa replied, sitting back. “So what’s a good length of time to stay on this date until it’s believable?”

“I average about an hour or two,” Blaise replied, sipping his drink. “Enough time for dinner, get a measure of the date so you can pass off that you like them to your parents. Depending on the person, you may be able to get some sort of sexual favor, but I have a feeling that’s not going to happen here.” He sent her smirk.

Vanessa paused, looking surprised at his answer. “You know,” she said slowly. “I think I may have misjudged you.”

“You can learn a lot from me, sweetie,” he drawled. “Question is, do you want to?”

“You tell me how to pass off that I enjoy these idiotic outings and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

Blaise smirked and sat back. Maybe this girl wasn’t so bad.

“First things first, you must pretend to be interested in the other party.”

“Do I have to?” Vanessa asked, wrinkling her nose.

“It’s pretty crucial,” Blaise said. Vanessa frowned, but listened as Blaise explained the finer points of pretending to date someone.

They made it through the drinks and first course, their conversation coming easier. By the time the main course came, they were talking freely, more like friends than anything else.

“So,” Vanessa said, tossing her hair back and it cascaded down her back. “Where would you rather be instead of on this date?”

“I can think of a million places,” Blaise drawled. “None of which involve self-important French men.”

Vanessa laughed as a server passing by gave Blaise a dirty look. “Tell me,” she said. “Is there someone you’d rather be with? Someone your mother wouldn’t approve of?”

“Accusing me of having a secret relationship?” Blaise asked playfully. “What caused this question?”

Vanessa hesitated, then glanced around and leaned in, smiling mischievously. “I have a boyfriend,” she said quietly. “But no one knows except my best friend. My father would have a heart attack if he found out. My boyfriend is an artist and my father thinks it’s a completely unacceptable career.”

“Maybe I misjudged you,” Blaise said, smiling.

Vanessa leaned back and tilted her head to the side. “So you’re not hiding anything, or anyone, from your mother?”

Blaise glanced away and down at his drink, fingering the tablecloth. It seemed that it was much harder to lie to a complete stranger, but after all, she had just confessed a secret to him.

Vanessa was watching him carefully. “Blaise,” she said slowly. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

Vanessa was quiet for a second, then she said quietly, “There is someone. Who is it?”

“No one,” he said firmly, looking up at her. She was staring deep into his eyes, as though trying to read his thoughts. He blinked and looked away.

“You love her.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Ha, so there is someone,” Vanessa said triumphantly and Blaise scowled.

“You’re wrong,” he said simply, downing the rest of his drink.

She was silent for a minute, watching him pick at his food. After a few minutes, she sighed. “Come on, I told you my secret. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Blaise glanced at her and saw her honest face, staring at him plainly. A part of him knew he shouldn’t tell her, but another part was dying to tell someone, and who better than a complete stranger?

He sighed, setting down his fork and glancing up at her. “Alright, but if you tell anyone, I will personally find and tell your father about your boyfriend.”

“Agreed,” she said. “So what’s going on?”

Shifting forward and lowering his voice, Blaise began to tell her about Hermione.

“There is a girl,” he said quietly and Vanessa smiled knowingly. “We dated for about six months until I broke up with her. We stopped dating, but we didn’t stop… seeing each other.” He gave her a meaningful look and she nodded to show she understood what he meant. “Three months ago, she sent me an Owl.” He stopped here, wondering if he should really go on.

Vanessa sensed his hesitation and reached out for his hand. “Go on. What happened?”

“She’s…” He hesitated. “She’s pregnant.”

Vanessa’s mouth opened in a silent ‘oh’. She lowered her gaze to the flickering candle for a second. Blaise sat in silence, hoping he hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

After a moment, she looked back up at him, her face inscrutable. “And what are you doing about this?”

“I’m… I’m trying to help but it’s difficult. She’s very stubborn and she doesn’t really trust me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t either,” Vanessa said and Blaise looked at her sharply. “What? You broke up with her but didn’t leave, and then you got her pregnant. No girl would like that unless she was still hopelessly in love with you. Is she?”

“I don’t think so,” Blaise said, a little taken aback at what she’d said. “I don’t know if she ever…”

“How’d she take it when you broke up with her?” Vanessa asked as he trailed off.

“She was upset,” he said, shrugging. “She cried, yelled at me, accused me of things.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow at his last words but said nothing. “Did you love her?”

Blaise sighed. He felt as though he was reliving the conversation with Pansy, only with a more sympathetic person. “No.”

“That was fast,” Vanessa said, looking at him carefully. “Thought about this answer, have you?”

Blaise scowled. “No. It’s just been brought up lately.”

“By her?”

Blaise laughed bitterly. “We can barely get through one conversation without her accusing me of something. Like she would ask if I ever loved her.”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Because it’s not important,” he said impatiently. “Any real relationship we had is over. Now, it’s just about this baby and what we’re going to do.”

“You want to know what I think?” Vanessa asked.

“I’m not sure,” Blaise said slowly, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I think that before you can even think about a baby with this woman, you have to figure out what you feel for her. It will be much easier once that’s done.”

“I already—“

“I know, I know.” Vanessa sighed. “You don’t care about her, or that’s what you say. I, however, don’t believe you. I think there’s more to this and you’re merely suppressing what you may or may not feel.”

She smiled at Blaise and stood up; he stood up also. She picked up her purse and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “If you need help, Owl me.” She stepped back, smiling mischievously. “I think I’ve learned enough to pretend this was an enjoyable night. Take care, Blaise.”

Then she left, and Blaise sat back down in his chair with a shake of his head. He called for the server and ordered another drink, thinking as the man walked away that this had been one of the most interesting dates his mother had ever set him up on.

***

“How was your date, my darling?”

Blaise sat back, regarding his mother with a small smile on his face.

“It was interesting,” he said after a moment. “Vanessa is different than what I thought.”

“Oh, I knew you two would be perfect for each other,” Isabella said, her eyes lighting up. “When will you be seeing her next?”

“Oh, I won’t,” Blaise replied. “She’s just not my type.”

Isabella’s eyes widened and she looked at her son for a moment. “But, Blaise, she’s such a lovely girl. She’s well-bred, wealthy, intelligent, beautiful. Isn’t that what you want, sweetie?”

Blaise sighed. His mother had no idea what he wanted. He didn’t know what he wanted as a matter of fact. Vanessa had made a valid point about figuring out his feelings before progressing any further.

“Mother,” he said, “I know you want me to choose a wife, and get married, have children, all of those things, but setting me up every five seconds isn’t going to make it go any faster.”

Isabella looked disappointed. “Blaise, you need to think about your future, the Zabini future. It won’t go away. You will have to marry and produce an heir. Sooner is better in case anything happens.”

“And what’s going to happen?” Blaise asked, exasperated. “The Dark Lord is gone. No one’s after us.”

“It seems the fate of this family that the males should die young. Your father was only—“

“Father was killed by a Death Eater, mother,” he said seriously, cutting her off. “Most are imprisoned now and they aren’t after me. I have a whole life to live and choosing a wife for me will only shorten it.”

Isabella looked determined. “You will settle down sometime, Blaise, and when you do, you will be glad for what I’ve done. It’s important to select a good wife. She is your image, the reflection of your life and name. She stands by your side and helps you. She loves you and you need to choose someone who will be an asset.”

“You don’t think I could choose someone like that?” Blaise asked angrily.

“You don’t have to,” Isabella said. “That’s why I’m here. I want to find you that girl.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “I’m an adult. I can choose someone for myself. I don’t need your help.”

“You do,” Isabella said sternly. “The last girl you chose, well, look what happened.”

“You mean Hermione?” Blaise asked carefully.

“She was obsessed with her work. She didn’t give you the attention you deserved, darling. And besides, you need a classic beauty to offset your good looks. She was much too plain to be a Zabini wife.” Isabella looked at her son sympathetically. “It wasn’t your fault you dated her. I suppose she must have had her charms, but Blaise, sweetheart, you could do much better.”

Blaise was silent for a minute as he absorbed what his mother was saying. He felt for a moment as though he was having déjà vu. Isabella has said many similar things when Blaise had been dating Hermione, though they had been less overt.

Blaise lifted his head after a moment. “I need to be alone.” He turned toward the door and his mother followed.

“Now, dear, don’t be upset,” Isabella said as she followed her son to his front door. “I only meant that there are so many more choices for you.” She smiled at Blaise and accepted her coat. She gave him a kiss on the cheek before stepping out the open front door. “Don’t make plans for next week. I’ll find someone better than Vanessa.”

Blaise refrained from rolling his eyes as his mother stepped outside. He forced his mouth into a smile as she Disapparated. It fell immediately as she disappeared. Groaning to himself, he shut the door and shook his head. Vanessa was right. He needed to do a lot of thinking and soon.


~~**~~