One More Time

*

The next few weeks passed slowly for Hermione. She was still getting used to living with Blaise. It was unusual to wake up and find him in the sitting room with a cup of tea.

She distracted herself most days with work, sending her owl regularly with work to the office. Kore returned each day with another stack of papers for her. Hermione was content to stay in the office Blaise had offered her and work.

She wouldn’t say she’d been avoiding Blaise, but it might have been a good guess. She just didn’t know how to act around him. He still hadn’t mentioned the kiss and it was beginning to irk her. How could he have forgotten it?

Every time she was on the verge of bringing it up, he would be taken away by some matter of business. She wanted to know what he thought about it and why he’d done it.

She tried not to dwell on it, though. She had enough to worry about with the fact that Isabella had called several times in the last few weeks. Luckily, Blaise had gotten her out quickly before she’d seen anything suspicious.

Hermione had stood behind the door during the last visit and listened as Isabella had talked on about a new girl for Blaise. She’d scowled as his mother had railed on about her looks and her family, her rich status in the Wizarding world.

To her relief, and Blaise’s status in her mind, Blaise had merely acknowledged his mother’s suggestions with the promise of looking into it. Once Isabella had left, Blaise had opened the door to find Hermione scowling darkly.

She had stalked out from behind the door and into a chair, glaring at the table.

“So I suppose you’ll be off to meet Candy or whatever her name was,” Hermione had said scathingly.

Blaise had simply rolled his eyes. “She just wants me to get married, you know that. She’ll throw any girl she finds at me.”

“Maybe you should just take one,” Hermione had growled, her eyes flashing.

“I’d rather not,” Blaise had replied casually, twirling his wand between his fingers and gazing out the window.

“Why not?” Hermione’d asked waspishly. “Your mother would approve.”

“It’s a little late for what she may or may not approve of,” Blaise had replied. “Don’t worry about it, Hermione.”

Hermione hadn’t been satisfied with the answer but hadn’t been able to continue her anger when Blaise had left the room, leaving her alone at the dining room table. She still couldn’t figure him out.

**

November was nearing as the weeks fell away. Hermione’s stomach was bigger than ever, and she felt vaguely safe in that she was no longer going to work daily. She’d sent owls to Harry and Ron, telling them that all was well, and they didn’t really need to visit her.

Harry hadn’t liked the idea, but Hermione had a sneaking suspicion Padma had talked to him and convinced him not to visit. The first chance she got, Hermione was determined to thank Padma for keeping her secret so well and helping her.

So far, she hadn’t heard anything of Harry proposing to Padma. She wondered what Harry was planning. She felt kind of detached from her friends at the moment, as if keeping this secret was driving her away from them.

Her guilt at not telling them was taking its toll and with each passing day, she thought more and more about revealing it to them and simply facing the inevitable consequences.

Blaise, on the other hand, felt only slightly guilty at keeping this secret from his mother and friends. He knew Draco could really care less and would only mock him for it and ask why he’d done it. His mother, on the other hand, would not be happy, but at the moment, he wasn’t worried how she’d feel.

He’d spent the last few weeks making sure Hermione was happy, attending to her needs, trying to get back in her good books. He was attempting to prove he could take on responsibility. He hadn’t gone out half as much as he usually did, which he knew drew suspicions from Pansy.

Pansy was the least of his concerns. His main concern was ensuring that Hermione was seeing the difference in him. Sure, at times he had trouble controlling his aloof behavior, his sarcastic comments. She didn’t seem to mind as much, either that or she was ignoring him.

Blaise wasn’t sure why she kept looking at him with a discerning eye, as though trying to x-ray him.

One day several weeks after Hermione’s move to the Manor, she had gone out to the local store in the closest Muggle village. Blaise was left alone for a while in the Manor.

He lounged in the sitting room for a while, perusing one of the many baby name books that were piled neatly on the coffee table. He and Hermione had decided on Kaiser as the boy’s name and it was down to Charlotte or Meredith for a girl.

He wasn’t sure which he liked better, just that they needed to decide soon. As he thumbed through another book, the maid entered the room.

“Mr. Zabini,” she said. “Ms. Parkinson is here to see you.”

Blaise looked up sharply. “Show her in,” he said, standing up as soon as she turned away.

He grabbed the books off the coffee table and shoved them under the couch quickly, straightening up as Pansy came into the room. She looked at home amongst his things, with her tight blue dress and sleek sunglasses that she took off and held in her hand.

“Pansy,” Blaise drawled. “This is certainly a surprise.”

Pansy smiled at Blaise, her eyes roving around the sitting room. She didn’t often come to Blaise’s house. “I thought I would drop in,” she said simply as her eyes made full circle. “You haven’t been out lately.”

“No,” Blaise said casually, dropping into a chair and waiting for Pansy to do the same. “I haven’t much felt like it.”

“No,” Pansy said, watching him. “I guess not what with one thing and another.”

“What are you on about, Pansy?” Blaise asked lazily.

“Nothing,” Pansy replied, though her tone indicated it was far from nothing. She glanced around the room again and her eyes fell on one of Hermione’s scarves that was lying on top of a table just inside the sitting room entrance. “That’s an interesting scarf,” she commented casually, nodding at it.

Blaise glanced at it, realization gripping his insides. “Thank you,” he said coldly.

“And red,” Pansy continued, “I didn’t know you liked the color red. You always seemed to prefer green.”

Blaise stood up and grabbed the scarf from the table. “It’s a sad day, Pansy,” he said, “when you’re interested in what color my scarves are.” Then he turned and headed to the entrance way to hang up the scarf in the closet.

While he was gone, Pansy looked around her carefully. The house was much the same as it usually was, neat and tidy. She crossed her legs and went to lean back when the corner of a book caught her eye. It was wedged underneath the couch she was sitting on.

With a careful glance at the door through which Blaise had gone, she leaned down and pulled the book out. A pink and blue cover was adorned with baby rattles and A-B-C blocks. A title emblazoned the front, Baby Names of the 21st Century.

Pansy’s eyebrows furrowed as she flipped it open to find a list of names followed by their meaning and origin. A noise from the front hall brought her to attention and she hastily pushed the book back under her seat.

Blaise came in from the entrance way and took his seat again in the armchair, facing Pansy. “Was there a reason you came here,” he asked, “other than to inspect my scarves?”

“Well, Blaise, I was just worried about you,” she said finally, sitting back and crossing her long legs. “You’ve become a bit of a recluse in the past few months.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Been talking to my mother, have you?”

“Would I?” she asked rhetorically. Blaise didn’t answer. “I just want to make sure you’re fine.”

“Well, I am,” Blaise replied. “There was really no need to check.”

Pansy shrugged and stood up. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Thank you for that enlightening diatribe,” Blaise drawled.

Pansy ignored the slight. “I must be going,” she said, starting towards the front door. Blaise followed. “It’s always a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Blaise muttered as they reached the door and he opened it for her.

She turned and smiled at him. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “Come out with us soon,” she said and left, Disapparating at the end of the walk.

Blaise remained standing in the doorway for a moment, gazing out at his front yard. Most of the flowers were dead or dying as the cold weather set in. A lingering frost was present on the leaves of a few plants. A bitter wind whipped through the trees surrounding the property and Blaise shivered.

Retreating inside, Blaise went back to the sitting room. He was a bit suspicious about Pansy’s visit. She’d never come to ask if he was alright before. It wasn’t quite like her. He had an idea that her motives weren’t exactly innocent, but he had no idea why she would come to visit.

He hadn’t liked all her questions about the scarf either. It was just a scarf. Hermione’s scarf, granted, but still just a scarf. She seemed to be getting too suspicious for her own good.

He told himself he had nothing to worry about, though. As long as Isabella didn’t find out, they would be fine.

As Blaise sat in the sitting room, watching leaves outside the window tumble over each other in the wind, he thought that he needed to do something for Hermione, something that would truly shock her, show her that he was serious about everything, and maybe even tell her what he’d been thinking for the past month.

He wondered for a while what he could do that might surprise Hermione and in the end, came up with an idea. He hoped it would be enough to prove to Hermione his intentions…

**

A week later, Hermione came into the house after having taken a long walk. She felt like she needed to clear her mind. The time had gone so quickly since this had all started. One minute it had been April and she was furious with Blaise for the predicament they were in. Now it was November and her due date was only two months away.

The feelings she’d had for Blaise had also changed over the past seven months. At first, she’d been angry and then accepting. As time had progressed, she found herself regaining some of her previous affection for Blaise. She remembered why she had cared about him in the first place. It was a combination of his looks, his intelligence, and the way he didn’t seem to care about other’s expectations, except his mother, of course, which had never made Hermione happy.

Over the past few week, Hermione had seen Blaise’s serious side. She could tell he was really trying to live up to his promise. She was no longer afraid of him running out, which was reassuring.

Hermione took off her scarf and hung it in the coat closet, along with her coat. Looking up, she wondered where everyone was. Usually, Georgiana, the maid, was there to greet her and take her coat. Today, there was no one.

“Blaise?” she called as she went into the sitting room.

“In here,” was the response from the formal dining room.

Hermione followed the voice cautiously. “Where’s Georgiana?” she asked as she passed through the sitting room to the other side where the double doors led to the dining room.

“I sent her home, and Kristy,” he said, referring to the cook.

“Why did y—“ Hermione stopped suddenly as she pushed open the doors. Her mouth fell open as she took in the table.

It was set lavishly with a bouquet of red roses in the middle as a centerpiece. The dishes were white with gold trim lacing the edges. The silverware sparkled under the low lighting overhead.

Hermione moved into the room slowly, as if unable to believe her eyes.

“Did you do this?” she asked, amazed.

Blaise walked over to her, producing a white rose from behind his back and handing it to her, leaning in and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Good evening, Hermione,” he said when he stepped back. He ushered her to a seat at the table and waved his wand.

Immediately, food appeared on the table in front of them. Hermione was impressed as all her favorite dishes appeared. She looked at Blaise, who’d taken the seat next to her.

“Did you make this?”

“Down to the last tart.”

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said incredulously.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know,” he said simply, grabbing her napkin and handing it to her. She took it, feeling dazed.

Blaise had never done anything like this before. Usually, he had the cook make everything. Hermione occasionally wandered into the kitchen to make things herself. She felt bad having the chef make all her meals.

She was surprised throughout the meal as Blaise continued to impress her with the fact that he could actually cook and it was good, quite nearly as good as Padma’s cooking. She could do nothing but be amazed at what she’d never known about him.

Near the end of the meal, Blaise brought out a bottle of sparkling cider, pouring it into two champagne glasses and handing one to Hermione.

“To us,” he said, raising his glass. “For making it this far without one Unforgivable.”

Hermione smiled and toasted, taking a sip of the bubbling cider. She felt like the evening was turning out far better than she could have expected.

“Hermione,” Blaise said, setting down his glass and looking at her seriously.

“Yes?” she asked, taking her napkin off lap and turning to face him.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” he said, raising a hand to her cheek softly.

Hermione’s eyes were searching his and her heart was beating faster. She could feel the pulse of it in her chest as she waited.

“Hermione,” he said, taking a breath. “I—“

“Blaise!”

Hermione jerked back as a familiar voice carried through the house. She scrambled out of her chair as the voice sounded again, louder and angrier.

“Blaise!”

Blaise was frozen in his chair, staring at the double doors through which the voice was coming.

“Oh no,” was all he said before the doors burst open to reveal Isabella Zabini standing behind them.

*