Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story
Beta love: snapeslittleblackbuttons
A/N: Based off a song of the same title by Parachute
This was my submission for the Wordsmiths and Betas Rare Pair OS competition. I enjoyed writing this, and hope you enjoy reading. I will be over here with a bottle waiting to collect your tears! :)
Forever and Always
Hermione Granger made her way around the kitchen, her heels clicking quietly as she tidied up the space. She straightened the burgundy cloth covering their dining room table and with a flick of her wand, conjured up a small vase of daffodils to place at the center.
She glanced around the apartment, smiling fondly in remembrance of the memories they would be leaving behind. Just that morning, they'd finalized the contract for their very own home. It was a quaint little structure on the outskirts of Surrey and just what she'd always envisioned for starting a family.
It was Friday evening, and she'd taken the day off to prepare a relaxing meal in celebration. Today marked three years since she'd stumbled into the most unexpected love of her life in a Muggle tavern and seven months since he'd dropped to one knee. Their wedding was planned for early October, a quiet affair in the midst of her favorite season.
She chewed her lip, visions of tea lights, her smiling friends, and a beaming Blaise Zabini drifting before her eyes.
The daydream swept her back to the first time she saw that grin directed at her, a row of gleaming teeth stark against dark skin that would leave her a puddle on the floor.
July 1998
Hermione threw back her fourth shot in an hour, grabbing her pint to wash down the bitter taste. The music was loud and the patrons were obnoxious, but she needed an out, and she wouldn't find it in the wizarding world.
That was what brought her to downtown Muggle London, tucked away at the far end of a dingy bar, drowning in her misery. Or alcohol.
She'd only returned to the country that morning after failing to bring her parents home. When she'd altered their memories the year before, she was confident in her ability to return them to their previous state with no complications. Unfortunately, the brightest witch of her age was unable to reverse the effects of the spell she'd created and was ultimately forced to leave her beloved parents as "Wendell and Monica Wilkins" in Australia.
Hermione felt hollow.
After a year on the run and losing so many friends and acquaintances to the war, reuniting her family was supposed to be the one good part of her summer. She was vaguely aware that someone had sank into the stool beside her, the only seats in the bar tucked away in the shadows.
She glanced over at the intruder, half hidden behind her curtain of curls. She did a double take when she recognized the face staring down at her.
"Hermione Granger," he drawled, tipping his head in greeting.
"Blaise Zabini?" Her words came out like a question. It wasn't that she didn't know who the man was. He'd shared the same classes with her for six years at Hogwarts, and albeit the house difference - he was a Slytherin - she wasn't quick to forget a handsome face.
"In the flesh," he winked, tossing her a charming smile. His voice was every bit as smooth as she remembered it to be.
Not that I spent my time drooling over school boys...
No, what had her confused was what Blaise Zabini - aristocrat, wizard, and sympathizer to Voldemort's campaign - was doing in Muggle London.
She glanced around the bar, making sure no one was eavesdropping before speaking. "Why are you here? Are you lost?" She frowned, watching him curiously for an explanation.
Shrugging, he offered little response. Apparently she wasn't the only one hiding. After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, he spoke.
"It wasn't easy, Granger." He paused when she gave him an incredulous look.
No shit, Zabini, she thought, face flushing furiously at his words.
"Sorry…" he mumbled, "I know it wasn't easy for you. I know. But the rest of us…" He shook his head. "You weren't there, Granger. You weren't at school with those monsters. You didn't torture innocent children, and you didn't have to play the bad guy so maybe the Carrow's would go easy on you that week. People don't shy away from you like you're sick. Like you're dangerous."
He took a long pull from his glass of whiskey before slamming it back to the counter with a force that showed the memories still plagued him. Hermione jumped, startled by his sudden movement.
"We all did what we had to," she whispered.
He grunted his acknowledgement, and Hermione took the moment of silence to finish off her own pint. She should be grateful for the company, she knew that, but it was hard when the person gracing you with their presence was someone you were made to despise.
She shook her head, not wanting to think that way. The war's over, Hermione. Let go.
That night, she did just that by drowning herself in a different fashion - with a handsome Slytherin man in her sheets. And drown, she would.
She drowned in his eyes, like molten chocolate. His skin, smooth and firm and so delicious that she was determined to taste every inch of him.
She drowned in his touch, his kiss, in the ecstasy that was him, Blaise - aristocrat, wizard, sympathizer, absolutely perfect.
She drowned. Oh, how she drowned, and she never fully recovered. Because from that night on, she needed him like she needed the very air she breathed. She vowed she would make him hers, and she did.
The timer on the stove went off, and Hermione carefully placed its contents onto the wooden table, arranging the steaming chicken and potatoes beside a bowl of fresh greens. She grabbed a book before settling down on a stool with a glass of wine, content to wait for his arrival.
Forty-five minutes and three glasses later, he was officially late. Hermione twisted her mouth into a deep frown as she glanced at the clock. Blaise was meticulous in all that he did, and that included always being on time.
She briefly wondered if he was picking up something special for the evening: a gift, perhaps? Her thoughts were interrupted as a large, wispy swan swept through the room, appearing from thin air.
She startled, shocked to see the patronus, and felt all color draining from her face as it spoke in a serious tone, booming across the quiet of the small apartment.
"Miss Granger, something has happened. Your presence is required immediately at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Mala—"
The message was lost as she spun on the spot, Apparating away into the darkness.
xxx
She arrived with a pop! in the middle of a busy corridor with nurses bustling about and visitors milling around. She rushed to the nearest desk, frantic to find out why she had been summoned.
Just as she began to call out for the receptionist, she heard her name.
"Hermione Granger?" The elderly Healer spoke.
She whipped around, eager for information. "Yes!" She all but shouted. "I'm her. Blaise… Where's Blaise?"
The nurse gave her a quick explanation of what happened, focusing on getting Hermione to the correct room quickly lest she meet the wrath of the fiery Gryffindor.
Blaise Zabini, with good word from the "famous" Hermione Granger, had worked his way through the Auror program and quickly became one of the Ministry's finest. Hermione knew he took his job very seriously because he had felt the need to redeem his years of putrid behavior and cleanse his mind of the utter shite his mother fed him growing up.
He was good at what he did - clever, diligent, quick with a wand and brute in force.
Unfortunately, this painted a huge target on his back. Aside from Harry Potter himself, Blaise was the most highly sought after by dark wizards who didn't appreciate Aurors trying to sentence them to life in Azkaban, or worse.
Hermione's biggest fears were confirmed as the Healer explained the extent of his injuries.
Unidentifiable curse, still spreading, we're so sorry…
The words hung in the air, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if the gesture alone would hold her together. It couldn't, and she fell apart: Remarkably. Completely.
The nurse left her after a few soft spoken words, and Hermione tried her best to collect herself before facing this nightmare.
She pushed the door open with a creak and stepped inside tentatively, worried that she may disturb him if he were asleep.
She was greeted with a soft smile she'd come to love over the years, and willed the tears back as she scanned him quickly, realizing that despite his warm gesture, he looked absolutely horrible.
"You look like shite," she croaked. Blaise laughed, a deep rasp that made him cough and shook his entire frame.
Resting herself on the edge of the bed, she took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers and gripping them tight. "You were supposed to stay safe."
Her sobs seemed to echo in the quiet of the room, but she couldn't stop the clenching of her heart, and oh Merlin, she gasped, I can't breathe. He shushed and consoled from his spot on the bed, while she felt awful because it should be her soothing him.
Eventually she'd calmed, and they talked and talked, from memories of drunken nights with friends to arguing over names of their future children. For a moment, she could almost forget the reason why they were there, in that room. Almost.
After what felt like hours, he made the request. "Tesoro mio", he spoke softly. "Bring our friends."
Hermione stared into his eyes, reading the silent plea for what it truly was. Bring our friends, she thought, it's almost time.
So she nodded and stood, moving from the room as her heart was squeezed again, constricted, and her eyes blurred from fighting back the tears.
She reached the private waiting room just down the hall, and unsurprisingly, found Harry Potter seated in one of the chairs, looking rumpled and out of place in his wrinkled Auror robes.
Their eyes met, red rim to red rim, and he was sweeping her into a bone crushing embrace before she had the chance to break down again.
"How bad is it?" he asked gently, but the resignation was burning in his eyes and she knew he knew.
Hermione smiled sadly before pulling her wand and sending a simple message to their closest friends.
"Please come to St. Mungo's as soon as you can. Ask for Blaise."
The pair watched her translucent otter glide off before moving back towards Blaise's room with heavy steps and even heavier hearts.
She shooed Harry inside before sending off one last message to Ginny.
Soon the room had filled one by one. Stories were shared, laughter was loud, and not a single eye was dry by the time the hour passed.
Hermione let her eyes fall to each of their friends that had gathered to comfort Blaise. Draco Malfoy was here, with Theodore Nott. There on the sofa were the Potters - Harry and Ginny - and Pansy Parkinson had pulled up two chairs to be close to Blaise, her wife Daphne at her side. Neville had stopped by and left shortly after because he couldn't do it and she didn't blame him. He'd already lost so much.
The timing felt right, so she slipped into the hall, returning moments later with the Minister of Magic.
Blaise looked at her curiously from the comforts of the bed - as much comfort as he could possibly get - before he finally let the tears spring forth that he'd fought for hours to hold in.
Ginny stepped forward and handed two small, golden rings to Hermione, who held one out to Blaise, giving him a look of unconditional love.
"I want you forever…" she spoke softly, and everyone in the room quieted to hear the words. "Forever and always. Through the good and the bad and the ugly." She sniffled, trying to get out her promises without losing it.
"We'll grow old together, and always remember- whether happy or sad or whatever..."
They laughed, and Hermione moved to kiss Blaise gently on the mouth. She let the tears fall as his words ghosted across her lips.
"Ancora ci ameremo per sempre tesoro mio"
And his words wrapped her, consumed her, filled her with joy.
"Forever and always," she whispered.
Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forth, pulling out a thin, satin ribbon. The Minister of Magic wrapped it loosely around their intertwined hands and spoke an incantation for all to hear.
The string glowed bright gold before seemingly melting into their skin, binding the pair as husband and wife.
Everyone in the room whooped and hollered, clapping each other on the back and embracing with tears swimming in their eyes.
Hermione felt more alive in that moment than she ever had before because they'd done it!
I'm yours.
And can't live without you love had fueled the spur of the moment, bittersweet, fastest wedding known to man.
Draco leaned forward, kissing her cheek before pressing his forehead right to Blaise's own, whispering words only the two could hear. Harry clasped the blonde's shoulder, ready to steer him off gently because he'd begun shaking as sobs ripped from his throat, a sound that could break hearts.
There was so much raw emotion in that tiny room Hermione thought surely the walls would burst at their seams. She held Blaise's hand, running her thumb across the smooth, golden band as their loved ones said their final goodbyes.
Tears dripped to the floor, and she swore they would flood the building but they just wouldn't stop, and maybe it wouldn't be too bad because she'd already drowned once, and he if went, she could go with him.
The still of the air was a stark contrast to the room moments before, but the love was still there hanging, suspended - with him, always.
Hermione crawled fully onto the bed, shifting his legs carefully so she could cradle herself between them. Blaise wrapped his arms around her body pulling her close, and she pretended not to hear the small grunt of pain that escaped his lips on the impact because this was where she belonged.
He began to speak, slow and soft, but his voice was almost too low, and she closed her eyes to let his words wash over her, seeping into her skin, burrowing itself into her pores, embedding inside her very soul.
"Please just remember, even if I'm not there…" he exhaled, so shallow she'd almost missed it. "I'll always love you."
Blaise Zabini's breath evened out, eventually coming to a stop, and Hermione sobbed, cursing Merlin and Godric and whoever else was listening because she needed him and
Did I not lose enough?
She held his body close until it nearly grew cold, and the Healers had to physically remove her so they could finish their job.
Hermione Granger - Zabini - went home that night, curled up on his side of the bed and inhaled the clean scent that was him. She closed her eyes, dreaming of dark, slender fingers skating pirouettes across her skin, and met Blaise in her dreams.
Hermione thought she may sleep forever because if he was there, then she was, too.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading!
"Ancora ci ameremo per sempre tesoro mio"
Italian for:
"We will still love each other forever, my darling"