One More Time

*

“What I don’t understand is how she found out,” Blaise said one cold afternoon. He and Hermione were in the sitting room. Hermione was reading another book about pregnancy and Blaise was gazing out the window thoughtfully. Outside, snow had begun to fall lightly, dusting all the trees and surrounding grounds in a white powder.

“Who?” Hermione asked, not looking up from her book.

“My mother.”

She looked up now, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

At this, Blaise paused, glancing away from her.

“Have you?” she repeated, a little more suspiciously.

“Well, we told the Healer, obviously,” Blaise said, still keeping his eyes fixed on a tree outside in which a squirrel was hiding on a branch. “And I may have told Vanessa.”

Hermione looked confused. “You mean the girl you were seeing, the one you said was different than…” She trailed away. She’d tried not to think about that girl, the one Blaise had seemed to like so much.

Blaise saw her train of thought and was quick to intervene. “Hermione, I’m not seeing Vanessa. I was wrong about her. She was just like the others, but before I figured that out, I did tell her.”

“You think she told?” Hermione asked, her tone frosty. She still didn’t like the idea of that girl, whether or not Blaise had liked her.

“No, I don’t,” he said. “There’s also Pansy.”

“You told Pansy?!” Hermione exclaimed.

“No,” he said quickly. “But she may have figured it out. She came over the other day and was acting oddly suspicious. She asked me about your red scarf and then left rather quickly. She also wants to know why I don’t go out with them as often now.”

“You think Pansy would have told your mother if she’d known?”

“Definitely,” Blaise replied. “Pansy was always close with my mother. They share all sorts of secrets.”

“But she wouldn’t tell anyone else, right?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“No,” Blaise said slowly. “My mother wouldn’t allow it.”

“Good,” Hermione said, feeling relieved. It was bad enough that Isabella and Pansy knew. If they told anyone else, it couldn’t possibly have a good outcome.

“Want to go for a walk?” Blaise asked suddenly.

Hermione put down her book again and glanced out the window. It was still snowing lightly and the light was barely shining through breaks in the clouds.

“It’s snowing,” she said.

“First snow of the season,” Blaise replied, standing up. “Come on, Hermione, live a little.”

Hermione scowled at being told to live a little, but agreed that the first snow always had some magical quality to it. In the end, she stood up, with a little help from Blaise. It was getting more and more difficult to stand with her stomach growing as it was. She headed for her room to grab another coat and her shoes.

When she got back out to the front hall, she found Blaise already wearing his coat and scarf. He handed her her red scarf, the one with gold trimming. Wrapping it tightly around her neck, she braced herself as Blaise opened the door.

To her surprise, there was little wind. The snow simply drifted down from the clouds, landing softly on the ground. She walked out behind Blaise, looking up into the sky and feeling the cold drops land on her face.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the cold, crisp winter air. She had always liked winter, especially when she had been younger. Waking up to the fresh snow outside her window had always been great fun. Her parents always had to restrain her from running out in her dressing gown.

Living in the city, she hadn’t gotten to experience it as much. As she walked beside Blaise down the lane that wound around the edge of his property, she was reminded of how much she missed living in a place where she could go out and make a snowman.

They walked in the peaceful silence of the snow, each taking time to reflect. Hermione was gazing around at the snow-covered trees when she felt Blaise’s arm brush against hers. She glanced up at him, but he was staring off to the other side, looking lost in thought.

They had gone about three-quarters around the property when Blaise stopped walking, looking down at a frozen pond at the bottom of a slope. Hermione came beside him and also gazed down at the pond. A few birds were flittering in and out of the trees beside it.

“Hermione?” Blaise asked suddenly.

“Yes, Blaise?” Hermione responded, taking her eyes from the pond and looking at him. Blaise was watching her.

“Are you happy?”

She looked at him for a moment, noticing the snow flakes that fell into his dark hair. She reached up and brushed the flakes away, finally giving him a warm smile. “Yeah, I think I am.”

For a moment it felt as though they had gone back in time to when they’d first been dating and there had been no problems. They stared at each other for a few seconds and then, slowly, Blaise leaned forward and kissed her.

His lips were warm against hers and her eyes drifted closed. There was nothing demanding in the kiss, no question that needed answering. It was just a kiss they shared under the fluttering snow.

After a moment, Blaise pulled back and Hermione opened her eyes. He didn’t say anything, but turned and offered his hand. She paused a second before slipping hers in it and walking beside him as they made their way back to the Manor.

**

The next few days were quiet and peaceful in Zabini Manor. Hermione and Blaise were getting along better than they ever had, even with Hermione’s mood flashes. She could be perfectly content one minute and annoyed the next. Sometimes, she felt bad for making Blaise put up with it, but she couldn’t control it.

One morning, Hermione rose, feeling happy and upbeat. She came out to the sitting room, glancing out the window where snow was piled high. Continuing to the dining room, she found Blaise already there, a cup of coffee in his hands.

He greeted her as normal as she took her seat and poured herself a cup of pumpkin juice. She grabbed the Daily Prophet and shook it open, perusing the front page. She didn’t see anything too much interesting and so settled to reading about the new memorial to Dumbledore they were going to erect.

She was about halfway through the article when there was a crack on the window. Lowering the paper, she looked around for the cause of the sound.

Blaise was already out of his seat and at the window, pushing it open. An eagle owl soared in, along with a gust of freezing wind, and landed on the table. A red letter was tied to its leg. Without waiting for Blaise or Hermione, the owl reached down and pulled the letter untied with its beak, then soared out the window.

Hermione gave Blaise a worried glance and backed away from the table where the Howler was sitting. The edges were already beginning to smoke.

Neither made any moves to open it, not that it mattered since seconds later, the envelope exploded in a cascade of words.

“…TELL THE WHOLE WIZARDING WORLD!” the letter yelled and Hermione recognized Isabella’s voice. “THE ZABINI NAME DISGRACED! BLAISE, I HAD HOPED YOU WERE SMARTER THAN TELLING A REPORTER ABOUT YOUR MISTAKE!” Hermione scowled now at the word mistake, but was more interested in what she meant by reporter. “NOW IT WILL BE ALL OVER AND EVERYONE WILL KNOW! I DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’LL DO! I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU WOULD TREAT THIS WITH SUCH CASUAL DISREGARD! I WILL NOT BE IN TOUCH WITH YOU AND THAT WOMAN UNTIL THINGS ARE SETTLED. GOOD DAY!”

The letter crumpled on the table and burst into flames, curling into grey ash in minutes. Hermione was left staring at it, then looking at Blaise.

“What was that talking about?” she asked carefully. She hadn’t liked the sound of it. “You don’t think someone found out and told the press?”

“The Prophet wouldn’t print it,” Blaise said quickly. “Is it in there?”

Hermione grabbed the Prophet again and scanned the entire thing. “No, there’s nothing.”

Blaise looked puzzled as he watched the smoking pile of ash now in the middle of the breakfast table. He glanced up sharply as another owl swooped in the open window, missing the table and slamming headfirst into the wall.

Hermione ran to retrieve it, finding that it was Errol, the Weasley’s old owl. She set the old bird on the table and untied the scroll tied to its leg.

“Who’s it from?” Blaise asked as Hermione unrolled it.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said slowly, skipping to the signature. “’Dear Hermione,’” she read. “’I’ve just heard and I have to say that you shouldn’t have kept the relationship hidden, especially if you’re expecting.’” She paused and looked up at Blaise, aghast. “How does she know?”

“Keep reading,” he encouraged her.

“’I’ve sent the article to Ron. I’m sure he’d like to know, if you haven’t told him already. The article in Witch Weekly wasn’t the most flattering, but I know you better than they do. Why you had to keep it a secret, I don’t know. Possibly because Mr. Zabini is a less than desirable character, but, dear, we still love you and you’re welcome at the Burrow anytime should it not work out.’”

Hermione stared at the letter, her mouth slightly open and her eyes narrowed angrily.

“Less than desirable?” Blaise repeated, coming over to Hermione and reading the letter for himself. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That’s not important,” Hermione said. “I want to see that copy of Witch Weekly.”

“Easily remedied,” Blaise said. He whistled and his owl swooped onto his arm. “Get me a copy of Witch Weekly,” he told the bird and it was gone in a second.

Hermione sank into her seat, still rereading the letter from Mrs. Weasley. It sounded to her as though she knew… everything. This, coupled with the Howler from Isabella, led Hermione to believe that the press had found out, but how?

They sat several minutes in silence, almost a half an hour until the return of Blaise’s owl, a copy of the most recent Witch Weekly in its claws. Hermione snatched it up as soon as the bird dropped it on her plate.

She unfurled it and hastily flipped through the pages until she found an article headed with a picture of her and Blaise hugging in a store. Her eyebrows came together as she began to read.

Blaise Zabini: The World’s Playboy or Loving Father?

Blaise Zabini; The notorious bachelor is best known for his womanizing ways and rugged good-looks, but is this the real Blaise that everyone knows or is there another side to this spicy Italian entrée? A recent outing into Muggle London questions that fact precisely, writes Rita Skeeter, who also sports her own notorious reputation for puncturing inflated egos with her quill.

While on a simple shopping jaunt to Muggle London, this reporter was fortunate enough to come upon the handsome Mr. Zabini, easily spotted by his dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Surprised to see Mr. Zabini out in the Muggle world, I was soon to learn that there was more to this Prophet reporter than meets the eye.

The face Mr. Zabini presents to the wizarding world is one of quiet intelligence, having punctured many inflated egos of his own as a Daily Prophet reporter. Most would expect the handsome beau to choose a girl with the same status as himself. It is well-known fact that Mr. Zabini is no slouch when it comes to dating. Many girls can claim to have been in the famed Zabini Manor with just a glimpse of the sitting room.

It seems, however, that Mr. Zabini is not satisfied with those girls of his stature. A few years back, he caused quite a scandal by dating Hermione Granger, known for her participation in the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Their relationship, though relatively short-lived, caused quite a to-do at the time. Common knowledge tells us his mother, the exceedingly beautiful Isabella Zabini, was not happy with the match and when it ended merely five months after beginning, there could be no doubt as to why.

More than a year has passed since then but it seems Mr. Zabini did not give up his pursuit of Ms. Granger. This reporter witnessed first hand the couple entering a shop in Muggle London not a week ago.

Together, the couple was spotted in a store selling mainly baby items, and now this reporter can exclusively reveal that Hermione Granger is with child, expecting in the coming months by the looks of things.

This begs the question of Mr. Zabini’s true character.

Hermione stopped there. The rest of the article went into examining whether or not Blaise was father material, which Hermione had no interest in reading. She looked up at him, a panicked look on her face.

“She followed us,” she said finally.

“What are you talking about?” Blaise asked. Hermione handed over the paper and stared at her empty plate while Blaise read the article.

When he finished, the magazine fell from his hands onto the table. He stared at the cover as it flipped shut on its own accord. He didn’t say anything for a moment, only ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

Hermione waited for him to say something, but her mind was also thinking of Mrs. Weasley’s letter that said she had sent the article to Ron.

“She sent it to Ron,” she whispered.

“What?” Blaise asked, looking up from his hands.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said, feeling panic in her stomach. “She sent that article to Ron, and he’ll tell Harry and then he’ll ask Padma and she’ll have to tell him. Oh no!”

She buried her face in her hands at the thought of what was going to happen. She looked up at Blaise, as though pleading for him to say something reassuring.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, looking up from the magazine. “Weasley won’t even know what it means.”

Hermione frowned at him and rolled her eyes at his slight on Ron. She sighed. “He will, and Harry definitely will. How will I explain this to them?”

“If you hadn’t kept it from them in the first place, you wouldn’t have to,” Blaise said simply.

Hermione’s mouth fell open, feeling indignant. “You agreed to this in the first place!”

“I know, I know,” Blaise said. “I was just kidding.”

Hermione merely grumbled to herself. She wasn’t impressed with his joking at a time like this. She had more important things to worry about.

As if someone was listening to her thoughts, at that moment, there was another whooshing sound and Hermione looked up to find Hedwig on the table, a red letter attached to her leg.

She hooted dolefully at Hermione while Hermione grimaced. Carefully, she reached forward and untied the Howler. Hedwig flew off and landed on top of a cabinet in the corner.

The Howler began to smoke and Hermione decided to save herself the agony and slit a finger under the lid.

“HERMIONE! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? YOU’RE NOT AT YOUR FLAT!”

That was all that was in the Howler. It burst into flames and Hermione winced at the voice that exploded out of it. She looked at Blaise, who appeared nonplussed.

Sighing, Hermione beckoned to Hedwig, who fluttered down onto the table. She scribbled a note, to the degree of not to come. She sent Hedwig away, knowing even that couldn’t possibly keep them away.

Attempting to continue her breakfast, she buttered a piece of toast while Blaise did the same.

It couldn’t have been ten minutes before there was a hammering sound on the door and Hermione resigned herself to the worst as she heard Georgiana answer and the sounds of two men practically breaking down the door.


*

A/N: I like the name Kaiser... and it wasn't meant as a chancellor of Germany, but um, kudos to people who know that. I suppose if you continue on to read the spin-off from this fic, you'll find out more about the new characters ;]