One More Time

*

Blaise regained his composure almost seconds after the doors opened. He stood up and, with a glance at Hermione, who was standing off to the side looking worried, approached his mother.

“Mother,” he said, attempting graciousness, while really wondering why the hell she’d had to pick that moment to intrude on his life. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Oh Blaise,” Isabella said in a dark voice, glaring at him and Hermione. “What is going on here?”

Hermione said nothing, clearly afraid to. Isabella could be a formidable opponent, especially when she was mad.

Blaise stepped forward, appearing calm and nonchalant. “I’m having dinner,” he said simply.

Isabella’s eyes narrowed and she drew herself up to her full height, tossing her dark hair back, her gold earrings glittering in the low light. “I see that, darling,” she said coldly. “Might I ask why I find you here with this,” she seemed to be searching for the right word to describe Hermione, “woman?”

Blaise looked at Hermione, who was now scowling slightly.

Isabella continued. “I heard that you were seeing someone, but, Blaise, I had no idea the extent… She’s pregnant! Is this your doing?” she demanded.

“Excuse me,” Hermione interrupted angrily. “But I have a name and you know what it is, Mrs. Zabini.”

Isabella ignored her and looked at Blaise for the answer. “Blaise Michel Zabini, tell me why this girl is pregnant and in your dining room!”

Blaise sighed and moved back a step. He knew his mother wasn’t going to accept this easily.

“Hermione is here because I asked her to move in,” he said finally.

“When?” Isabella asked. “Why was I not informed of this? How far along is she? How could you do this to the family, Blaise?! You know what I’ve gone through for you, for us. And this is how you repay me?”

Hermione was now glaring at Isabella as she talked, ready to argue. Blaise, however, jumped in.

“Repay you?” he asked. “Mother, this wasn’t planned. It was an accident, but we’ve both accepted it.”

“You hid it from me,” Isabella said, her eyes flashing. “You disgraced the Zabini name by taking up with this girl in the first place!”

“Her name is Hermione,” Blaise said coldly, moving over to her. “And I don’t think you should really talk about disgracing the family name.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Isabella asked in quiet anger.

“Nothing,” Blaise replied scornfully.

Isabella stared at her son and then Hermione, her eyes dropping down to her rounded stomach. “Of all the girls you’ve ever dated, darling,” she said, “you had to pick her? She does nothing to offset your looks or charm.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open in anger as she stared at Isabella. “You horrible woman!” she exclaimed.

Isabella turned a distasteful eye on Hermione. “Don’t be silly, dear, Blaise could have his pick of any girl. I suppose you did this on purpose to rope him in, didn’t you?”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond furiously but Blaise stepped in to stop the slaughter.

“Mother, it was my fault,” he said. “But it’s all in the past. What matters now is that it’s happened and we’ve decided to keep the child.”

Isabella had turned away from Hermione with one last unpleasant look and was now staring at Blaise. “If you continue to associate with this tragedy, I don’t know what I’m going to do, Blaise. You know how important it is to keep up appearances. You must disassociate yourself with Ms. Granger. We cannot have a child out of wedlock hampering our family name.”

Blaise just stared at his mother for a second. He looked at Hermione, who was seething beside him, glaring at Isabella. He could practically see the unpleasant thoughts running through her mind and what she would like to do to his mother.

“Mother, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said finally. “You can’t barge, uninvited, into my house and insult Hermione.”

Hermione now looked at him, as though surprised. She watched as Isabella seemed to digest what he said and flare with anger.

“Fine,” she said shortly. “I’ll go. I wouldn’t want to hinder any plans you may have made without me. But remember, Blaise,” she said as she turned to leave the room, “a man is only as good as the woman on his arm.”

Then she turned haughtily and swept from the room. Blaise waited until he heard the front door close with a loud snap before sinking down into the closest chair.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. He shook his head as he looked up, seeing the beautifully set table and remembering the original reason for the evening. It was all ruined now, thanks to his mother.

Hermione stood in the corner, shocked into silence by all that had just happened. She had never expected Isabella to barge in. Most of it had made her angry, hearing herself be insulted by a woman twice her age with nothing to show for it except a career of marrying older, rich men.

Isabella’s last words, however, had given Hermione a twist in her stomach. She didn’t know what Blaise would do, and that worried her. She’d been worried about this from the start. Would he leave her now to go after his mother and make things right with her? Would he go back on his promise?

She remained standing as Blaise sat at the table, staring at it. She just kept thinking about what Isabella had said and resisting the urge to go after her herself and show her just how talented she could be.

Instead, she mastered the feeling, and feeling more tired than she had in a while, turned to Blaise.

“Good night,” she said quietly. She didn’t wait for him to respond, merely turned and left for her bedroom to think about what she had to do now.

Blaise saw her walk out and twinge in his chest told him he should follow her and explain what he was thinking, but instead, he let her go while he remained in the dining room.

**

The next day, neither Blaise nor Hermione brought up the subject of Isabella and her surprise visit. Hermione drank her tea in silence, her eyes on the butter dish that sat on the table.

She’d spent much of the night awake, thinking about what might happen. She knew Isabella would not tell anyone for fear of further disgracing the family. Hermione had a suspicion that Isabella had not finished attempting to break Blaise’s attachment to her either.

She was not interested in discussing the matter with Blaise, as she knew it could not end well. Knowing his opinion on the subject would not help hers, she determined.

Several days passed in which she and Blaise spent time in awkward silence, usually one leaving the room shortly after, unable to bear it.

Blaise knew he should bring up the subject of his mother and her accusations and suggestions.

There was something he hadn’t told Hermione. Isabella had not, in fact, given up her quest. She had visited him at work the day before with more reasons as to why Hermione was not worthy. He’d listened to her calmly, but not accepting anything she said.

Isabella had left in anger once again when Blaise had rebuffed her attempts to get him to leave Hermione alone with the child. It had taken a while, nearly 25 years, but Blaise had finally learned that his mother had far too much influence on his life. He was ready to take control and the first thing was to tell his mother that it was his own decision.

Isabella hadn’t been pleased and left angrily. Blaise wasn’t really worried. She had said nothing about disowning him, even if she was furious about his choice. He was confident that she would come around in time, even if it didn’t seem like it.

He wasn’t so sure Hermione would come around. He feared that she had taken his mother’s words to heart and that she was considering cutting him loose.

Less than a week after Isabella’s fateful visit, Blaise made the suggestion that they go out and do some shopping in preparation for the baby.

Hermione had agreed, if not a little stiffly. Facing several hours in the company of Blaise was not appealing when she was trying to avoid the subject of Isabella.

So, wearing a heavy sweater and walking cautiously with Blaise, Hermione accompanied him to a rather large children’s store in the London downtown. She shielded her face as they passed the Leaky Cauldron on the way to the store.

They entered and Hermione declined the sales girl’s offer to take her coat. She and Blaise headed for the back of the store, away from the front windows.

Gazing at the selection of cribs, neither spoke for a while. Hermione ran her hands over the edge of a pretty mahogany crib, wondering if they would ever be able to work anything out.

“Hermione,” Blaise said quietly, causing her to jump.

“Yes?” she asked, turning from the crib to another cheap-looking white crib.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said and Hermione held her breath for a second, thinking he was about to bring up the dinner. “The baby’s room, there’s a room just off the master bedroom. It’s more of a large closet, but if you like it, we could make that the baby’s room.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, feeling relieved. “Yes, that sounds fine.”

She turned back to the same mahogany crib, examining the carvings in the wood. It was a floral theme of flowers and leaves trailing down it. “What do you think of this one?”

“Rich,” he said, running a hand over the edge. He glanced at Hermione. He knew she was avoiding the subject he wanted to talk about. “Hermione,” he said again, and she turned from him, heading towards the decorations for children’s rooms.

He followed, determined to talk to her about what had happened. “About the other night…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said sharply, lowering her voice. She glanced around. There was no one close to them. The only other couple she saw was across the store.

“We have to talk about it,” Blaise pressed, not looking at the mobiles Hermione was staring at determinedly.

“No, we don’t,” Hermione said. “I heard what your mother said. She thinks I’m a tramp, using this child as a way to ensnare you and ruin your future.”

“But you haven’t heard what I say,” Blaise said, walking around her as she turned away from him. “Hermione, listen to me. You should know well enough by now that I don’t listen to my mother.”

Hermione stopped walking away from him and let out a derisive laugh. “Please, Blaise,” she said scornfully. “You are your mother’s son. Your whole life you’ve listened to her. When have you had an original thought?”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe when I dated you?” he asked. “She didn’t approve but I did it anyway.”

“And then you broke up with me,” Hermione hissed, glancing around her again. She felt it was imprudent to be arguing in the middle of a store. Turning sharply, she moved away to look at lamps with childish designs on them.

“Well, I came back didn’t I?”

“Only for sex,” Hermione answered, trying to move her lips as little as possible.

“That wasn’t the only reason,” Blaise replied before he could stop himself.

Hermione glanced at him curiously. She shook her head, though, and looked away. “It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is if you are going to listen to her now.” She paused, glaring at him. “Are you?”

Blaise sighed. “No,” he said sincerely. “She’s just upset.”

“Oh yes,” Hermione said sarcastically. “I’m sure Isabella Zabini is just upset that Hermione Granger, the poor Muggleborn, has seduced her perfect son.”

“It’s not to do with blood,” Blaise said. “She just wanted me to marry some rich bimbo. My mother’s not the least obvious when it comes to motives. Why do you think she has so many husbands?”

“Because she’s famously beautiful?” Hermione offered darkly, thinking of Isabella’s shining dark hair and vivid blue eyes, so like her son’s, her slim figure and perfect teeth.

“She just wanted me to be happy.”

“Were you?” Hermione asked, ceasing to pretend she was interested in the rattles.

“To a degree.” Blaise shrugged. “As happy as I could be with no real father. Now, Hermione, we’re getting off topic. I just wanted to tell you that she won’t scare me off. I’m going to stay and help with the baby.”

Hermione looked at him for a second, as though sizing him up. Finally, she sighed, her eyes softening. “Alright, I believe you.”

She tensed slightly as he gave her a light hug. When he pulled back, he glanced up at the rattles. “These things are ugly,” he commented. “Why don’t we try Owl order?”

“Sounds good,” Hermione said, relieved to be leaving the store. Together, they left the store, its bell tinkling behind them.

They didn’t see, as they turned the corner, a woman with elaborately set curls and a crocodile handbag stick her head out the door of the shop they had just left.

The woman’s mouth curled into an evil smile as her long red nails unclasped her handbag, removing a Quick-Quote Quill.

*