One More Time

*

Hermione left Blaise’s that evening confused and tired. Being forced to relive the last few weeks of their relationship was tiring. Hermione had tried not to think about it, had nearly blocked it out entirely.

She hadn’t told Blaise everything. Some things were just too shameful to admit. That night she’d gone over there, she had been expecting him to propose. She’d never told anyone this and never planned to.

When he’d wanted to break up, her heart had been smashed, cracked into tiny pieces and she could hear the crunch as he’d stood up to show her to the door.

Tonight, when he’d asked if she had ever loved him, she also hadn’t told the entire truth, but knowing the damage it could do, she hadn’t. Yes, she had fallen in love with him while they had been together, though had never said it. She was afraid of driving him away and by the way things had turned out, she was glad she’d never told him.

A part of her wanted to tell him what she’d really felt and find out if he’d ever felt the same. Another part told her it was foolish to believe he could care for anyone but himself.

She had convinced herself that she no longer cared for him. For many months, she’d told herself he was a jerk who cared for no one, too selfish to think of loving another person. These ideas had only been reinforced by Ron and Harry, who were only too quick to say everything she was thinking only ten times worse.

She’d thought she was over him, was prepared to move on and begin dating, when he returned. It had been a shock to find him in her sitting room, acting as if no time had gone by, but making it perfectly clear the reason he was there.

Hermione sighed as she unlocked the door to her flat and turned on a light. Rubbing her forehead where a headache was forming, she tossed her purse onto the couch and made for the kitchen.

She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and turned to the faucet, stilling as she caught sight of something on the counter.

A single white rose lay on top of a piece of parchment. With a glance around, she picked up the paper, unfolding the note.

Hermione,

I hope you’re feeling alright. The evening didn’t go exactly as I planned. On a more pressing note, as the baby is only four months away, I think we need to discuss some more important matters. Will you consent to lunch on Friday? Please answer by return owl.

-Blaise

She paused for a moment, sniffing the rose and twirling it between her fingers. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face him after what she’d just revealed.

Knowing, however, that they did have real things to discuss, Hermione decided it would be best to put on a business face and carry on business as usual. Dictating a simple reply, she sent it off with Kore and retreated to her room for some well-deserved sleep.

**

Blaise remained in the library long after Hermione left. He was thinking about what she’d said, and what she hadn’t said. He’d never thought that it had affected her so much, the way he’d acted towards her near the end.

He knew he’d been cold, pulling away without explanation. Even Pansy had noticed, apparently. He didn’t know she’d cared so much.

Blaise had never truly examined the reason he had broken up with Hermione. At the time, he’d told himself it was because she wasn’t his type, that it wasn’t going anywhere, but now that he looked back and thought about it, he realized there had been other factors at play.

His mother, for instance, had never liked Hermione and never missed a chance to tell Blaise how much better he could do. Draco and Pansy had been indifferent, though Draco had asked repetitively what Blaise saw in her. Blaise had never been able to explain what it was, something about the way she acted, how she carried herself, how intelligent she was. He was never able to convey these things to Draco.

When they’d been apart, he’d tried to go out but found it tiring and the girls all the same. One day, a few months after the break-up, Pansy had mentioned that Hermione was dating again. Pansy had always been a shameless gossip. Blaise had ignored it most of his life but this little piece of information had sent a hot wave of jealousy, perhaps, through his stomach.

He hadn’t been able to figure out the feeling but took it to mean he had to see Hermione. His subconscious mind was determined to talk her out of going on the date.

By going there that night, he’d started an irreversible trend. He hadn’t meant to, but seeing her again after months had done something to his senses.

Lately, he felt as though something was happening to him. He didn’t go out with Pansy and Draco half as much as he used to. He’d begun avoiding his mother when she came to call, knowing she would only try to set him up again. He’d gone out with the last girl and had barely lasted through dinner.

He didn’t want the vapid, shallow blondes anymore. They had no substance, nothing to intrigue him. The more he thought, the more he knew who he wanted, who he had always wanted. The problem now was what to do, how to tell her.

Blaise sighed and rose from the couch in the library. Walking down the hall to the sitting room, he considered what to do. He didn’t suppose out and out telling her would be a good idea.

In the sitting room, he grabbed a quill and piece of parchment, drafting a short letter and sending it out with his owl. He sat down in an armchair and glanced out the dark window. He wondered if he was doing the right thing.

**

Pansy checked her watch for the third time and glanced at the door. Beside her, Draco was sipping some green and blue drink, toying with the tiny umbrella.

“How the hell do they make these so small?” he asked, plunking it back in his drink.

Pansy turned to him, raising an appraising eyebrow. “Inquiring about Muggles, are you?” she asked. “That’s a first.”

Draco scowled. “I was merely inquiring about the manufacturing of an object.” Then he slid off his seat with a glare and disappeared into the dancing crowd.

Pansy rolled her eyes and watched him go.

“Fancy a drink?” A low voice sounded next to her ear and she smirked, leaning back into the man standing behind her.

“I’d love one,” she said, turning around now. “And an explanation.”

Blaise slid into the next seat and signaled the bartender for two drinks. He turned back to Pansy, who was wearing an intrigued expression. Sliding his elbows forward, he leaned forward.

“You might get one,” he said casually. “You got my note?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she replied, smiling at the waiter who gave her her drink. She kept her eyes on him as he walked back to the counter then turned back to Blaise. “So why did you want to meet me?”

Blaise leaned back and took a swig of his drink. “All in good time, Pans, let’s just relax for a while.”

He glanced over as Draco came strutting out of the mass of writhing bodies as colored lights flashed over the top of them. He slid into his seat and appeared surprised to see Blaise.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who’s made it out of Azkaban.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Blaise asked.

“That Manor of yours must be an impenetrable fortress,” Draco said, finishing his drink in one swallow. “You haven’t been out of it in weeks, especially to the club. What happened? Your mother finally find the one? When’s the wedding? I refuse to wear Muggle-wear as your best man.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. It always came back to his mother, like he couldn’t make decisions on his own.

“I’ve just been busy at work,” he said finally.

“Work,” Draco scoffed. “I still don’t understand why the fuck you work, Blaise. You’ve got enough gold to live on forever. Isabella’s made sure of that.”

Blaise chose to take a drink rather than respond. He knew he had plenty of money, but he couldn’t stand the thought of doing nothing all day. He knew Draco traveled a lot and spent most of his nights out, with Pansy no less. He had been like that at one point, though he had always known he’d rather work than become a rich, available bachelor.

He watched as an attractive girl floated past, dragging her friend. When she caught Blaise looking at her, she giggled and pulled her friend faster. Blaise pulled his eyes away and took a drink, looking up to find Pansy watching him carefully.

“What?” he asked, setting down his drink and raising an eyebrow.

Pansy said nothing for a second, then leaned over to Draco. “Draco, you have something in your hair.”

Immediately, Draco raised his hands to his hair. “Where? What is it? Pansy, get it out!”

“I can’t get it,” Pansy said calmly.

Draco huffed dramatically and took off for the bathroom. Blaise watched him go, knowing Pansy had done it to get him alone. He glanced back at her, knowing she was watching him intently.

“Why did you want to talk to me, Blaise?” she asked suddenly, never one to beat around the bush.

“I just had a simple question for you,” he said calmly.

“Oh yeah?” Pansy pressed suspiciously. “Something you couldn’t just ask in an owl?”

“Well, I’d prefer a straight answer and in person seems better for those kinds of questions,” Blaise said.

Pansy made an agreeable sign. “Alright, so what’s the million galleon question?”

Blaise drained his drink and signaled for another. “Pansy, have you ever been in a serious relationship?”

Pansy appeared taken aback for a second. “You know that answer, Blaise,” she said finally. “I have no plans of having a serious relationship until I find an old, fabulously rich man with no children.”

“Decided to be my mother, have you?” Blaise asked dryly.

Pansy ignored the slight. “I have many more years ahead of me before I’ll be forced into a serious relationship.” She regarded Blaise for a second. “That wasn’t the question you wanted me to answer.”

“No,” Blaise said simply, nodding in thanks to the server as another drink was set down in front of him and removed Draco’s empty glass. Draco still had not returned.

“Well, I haven’t got all night,” she said impatiently. “If you haven’t noticed, there are some lovely boys by the bar.”

“No, I hadn’t,” Blaise replied. “Pansy, have you ever been in love?”

Pansy was silent for a moment. “I thought, once, maybe.”

“And what happened?”

“I grew up,” she said finally. She gave him an appraising eye. “What’s with the questions, Blaise? Was Draco right? Has your mother finally found the one? Shall I start shopping for an outfit?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Blaise said coldly. “I only wanted to know if that person you were in love with showed up right now and told you he loved you, what would you do?”

Pansy stared at him. “I’d curse him,” she said at last.

“Why?”

“Because that bastard waited all this time to figure out his feelings after I’ve moved on. He had plenty of time to tell me how he felt but instead we went our own ways. He should have done it sooner.” She paused. “Why do you want to know?”

“Research,” he said vaguely, taking a sip of his drink.

Her eyes narrowed. “Thinking about proclaiming to a lost love?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice. “Jenna turned out to be that special after all?”

Blaise didn’t look at her, instead scanning the crowd, seeing the same pretty girl who’d blushed at him earlier dancing with a tall man. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said loftily.

Pansy opened her mouth to argue but Draco finally returned to the table, looking pissed. “You lied, Pansy,” he growled. “There was nothing there. And I had to go into that disgusting washroom. It could use a good Cleaning Charm.”

As Pansy and Draco began to bicker, Blaise took his leave, sliding into the crowd, and was soon dancing with the pretty girl, forgotten, but not completely by Pansy, who kept her eyes on him long after he left the table.

**

Hermione glanced around carefully, making sure no one she knew was around. She followed the server as she led her to a small table near the back of the restaurant. Thanking the woman, Hermione sat down, not bothering to remove her coat. The weather was growing colder as October crept upon them. Hermione was glad for this, as it gave her an excuse to wear bulkier clothes to hide her growing stomach.

She waited about five minutes before Blaise showed up, sliding into his chair quietly. He didn’t look quite as nervous as she did.

“Hello,” Hermione said finally when he said nothing. “Lovely evening.”

Blaise nodded and picked up the menu. Hermione frowned. “Are you at least going to tell me why you asked me here?”

“Let’s get through the hors d’oeuvres before we start a fight, alright?” Blaise asked from behind the menu.

Hermione rolled her eyes but also picked up her menu. Soon, they had ordered and Hermione was sipping a glass of water, wondering exactly what they were going to discuss. She had a few things she wanted to bring up.

Blaise took a drink and set it down, glancing around the room. He was really only putting off what he knew he wanted to ask her. He’d spent most of the week trying to figure out the best way to put it.

Hermione sighed and looked at Blaise. “I thought we were here to discuss what we’re going to do after the… baby is born.” She lowered her voice to a whisper at the word baby.

Blaise finally looked back at her. “Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Well?” Hermione asked as he paused. She didn’t like being so exposed in a restaurant with Blaise. If anyone saw them, awkward questions would certainly arise.

“Your due date is soon, only four months,” he said slowly and quietly. “We haven’t done much to prepare. There’s a Healer’s appointment next week, but we haven’t bought anything, we haven’t decided how this is going to work.”

“You mean custody?” Hermione asked.

Blaise paused. “I had another idea.”

“What?” Hermione asked suspiciously, noticing he seemed to be hesitating. She had never known Blaise to be hesitant. He usually went for whatever he wanted with ruthless precision.

“Hermione,” Blaise said seriously. “I want you to move in with me.”


*