If I See You Again
Chapter One - A Chance Encounter
A/N: Hi there! Welcome to my story of Hermione and Blaise. I don't think this will be too long. [Future Me coming to tell you this is a blatant lie …]
This was started from the prompt "I will hurt you if you ever talk to me again" and I've got to say I've had a lot of fun figuring out Blaise's character and fiddling around with his Italian-ness. He's such a nice, clean slate when it comes to writing HP fanfiction.
I hope you like it! Please review I'd love to hear what you think :)
Disclaimer: The following story is based on the excellent works of J.K. Rowling, they are not mine.
Also: Being Australian, I may have a few spelling variations to what you may be used to, just skim over them and try not to let them get to you. But let me know if you think there's something wrong :)
…
"Hermione, we're up at the second train carriage!" Harry called. Hermione nodded to him and gave a final hug to her mum.
"Be safe, sweat heart," her mother said, smiling down at her daughter and pulling a small piece of fluff from the shoulder of her jumper.
"I will mum," Hermione nodded. "I'll see you for Christmas?"
"Of course, we're going to visit your cousins this year!"
"Should be exciting," her father nodded. "I haven't seen their new house yet."
"Alright, don't go without me!" Hermione began to make her way to a carriage door as a whistle blew. "You are not allowed to go without me!"
"We won't!" her father called through the crowd. Let it not be said Platform 9 ¾ was ever quite come 11:00am, September 1st.
Hermione stood by the door window to wave to her parents as the train began to move. When a turn in the tracks blocked her parents from view, Hermione left the window to look for her friends.
She couldn't quite tell on the platform, but she thought she was on the fifth carriage. It shouldn't be too hard to get to Harry and Ron.
…
Sigh.
For the umpteenth time, Hermione flattened herself to the corridor wall as a group of younger students ran up and down the hallway. Each time, they would be dressed in Bulgarian or Irish Quidditch colours, and shouting as they re-enacted scenes from the Quidditch World Cup Final.
As she began walking again, however, another group came from behind her and knocked her into an empty compartment.
She held out her hands but still hit the floor hard, and scowled as she sat up and cradled her elbow.
"Comfortable there, Granger?" a voice asked.
Hermione looked up to see a dark boy already dressed in Slytherin robes curled up on the luggage rack with a book.
"More so than you," she retorted, standing up and brushing her hair out of her face.
"Ever tried charming that bush out of your face?" the boy said with a grin. "It's hiding your pretty face."
"I'm sorry; I don't recall asking a Slytherin for any sort of advice." Hermione said, taking a seat and rubbing her elbow as the stinging continued.
"You alright?" the boy asked, his voice a little kinder. He scrambled a little before jumping down and landing deftly on his feet. "Where's it hurt?"
"It's fine," Hermione said, shooing away the boys' reaching hand.
"No, come on, I can help," he said, his hand reaching once again for her arm.
"Why would you help?" she asked, looking at him and seeing for the first time the kind, eager-to-help expression the boy wore. "Who are you?"
"Really? You don't know who I am?" the boy laughed as he took her outstretched arm and rolled back the sleeve to see the damage.
"Should I?" she asked, before wincing as he applied pressure to various points and found the sore spot.
"I would like to think so, we've shared a few classes over the years." His face turned to confusion as he pulled out his wand and tapped her arm. "Vespi Dolet."
"What does that mean?" Hermione asked, her attention back on her sore elbow which had glowed in a faint blue.
"Well, the good news is you haven't dislocated your elbow, although your ulna and radius aren't in the right spot. It's easy to fix but it's going to hurt a little, okay?"
Hermione pulled her hand into a fist. "Okay, do it," she said, squeezing her eyes shut.
The boy whispered something, and she felt his wand trace the side of her elbow, and then felt her bone click back in to place, sending a sharp jab down her arm to the tips of her fingers.
"It's alright," the boy said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "You can open your eyes now."
Hermione did so, to see him standing up, retrieve the book he'd left on the luggage rack, and take a seat across from her.
"So, you really don't know who I am?" he asked. He didn't seem offended as he tucked the now shrunken book into his robes.
"I'm sorry but no," she said, looking down before glancing back with a thought. "You do look a little familiar."
"Well in that case, hello!" he stood up and gave Hermione a deep bow. "Blaise Zabini, at your service, signora."
Before Hermione could stop herself, a giggle left her. This boy sure had confidence. "You're Italian?"
"My father was," he answered, sitting back down. "Didn't really know him, but I've been to visit Italy before and met other Zabini's. I stay there during the holidays with my sister sometimes."
"That's amazing," Hermione said, "I've been there once with my parents when I was little, we visited Rome and the Vatican. It was quite beautiful."
"It is," Blaise nodded, looking out the window. Hermione watched him for a little while before something in his face changed and he looked back at her. "Don't you have friends waiting for you?"
"Oh crap," Hermione exclaimed, standing up and looking at the sliding door. "They'll be wondering where I am! What's the time?"
"Half past, you should be fine." Blaise answered, his voice cold as he kept his gaze firmly out the window.
"I'll, um..." Hermione mumbled, torn between leaving Blaise alone and finding her friends. "I'll see you at school, yeah?"
"Sure," he said half-heartedly. She could see him hurting, though he was trying not to show it, but he was a stranger, so she left him to find her friends.