Chapter Three

Hermione's eyes were shut tight during the short trip to her new home. Though she actually had passed her Apparation test the previous year, quite honestly, she'd be perfectly happy if she never had to do it again; it was extremely painful. She felt as if her whole body was being squeezed through a hole the size of a pinhead. Though she didn't much like flying either, she decided she liked it better than Apparating. At least with flying, she only needed to worry about falling off and popping ears. One wrong move with Apparation and she could splinch herself. Not something she fancied doing. No, I'd much prefer flying, or traveling by floo powder, thank you, she said to herself.

Finally, after what was a much shorter trip than she felt, her feet touched solid ground. "All right Hermione?" her father asked, noticing that her eyes were still shut tight.

The young witch opened her eyes and looked up at her father. "Yes," she replied a bit shakily.

"Apparation is a bit of a rough way to travel, but it gets easier the more you do it," her father assured her with a light squeeze of her hand.

Hermione nodded slightly and let go of his hand. "I'm sure."

Blaise walked over to her as their father said, "Well, shall we head in? Please wipe your feet before going in, Blaise you always seem to forget that."

"Dad's a bit of a… what do the Muggles call it… neat freak?" Blaise whispered to Hermione.

Hermione couldn't help giggling softly as turned to face her twin brother. She was a bit shocked to see how close he was standing to her and jumped a bit. He had been so close, in fact, that she could see small flecks of black in his blue eyes. "Um… yes, that's right," she said after a few moments.

Mrs. Zabini walked over to her and smiled brightly. "Welcome home, Hermione," she said warmly.

Hermione smiled nervously, feeling the warmth of 'home', and turned to face her mother. It was then that she realized that they were standing outside a large brick mansion. Her eyes widened in awe as she took in the grand sight before her. Never in her life had she seen something so beautiful.

The mansion seemed to be about four stories tall and about four times as long. Two large, white pillars stood on the front porch supporting an awning that was about the length of a decent sized pool. Just beyond the two pillars stood the front door, tall and made of cherry wood. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Come, I'm sure you'll want to get settled a bit before dinner," their mother said, guiding them to the front door.

As they stepped onto the porch, the front door swung open and a little house-elf came running out to greet them. "Sir and Mrs.! Oh Gripa was so worried about you, she was, and young Master too!" the tiny elf squeaked as she snapped her fingers causing their traveling cloaks to disappear.

"There was no need for worry, Gripa," Mr. Zabini said, "Our trip was a safe one."

"Yes, Sir," Gripa said, turning to Hermione and stopping in her tracks, "Oh Miss, it has been so very long! Gripa welcomes you home, Miss!"

Hermione smiled kindly at the large eyed elf. "Thank you Gripa, that's very kind of you," she said.

Gripa's eyes began to well up with tears as a bright smile spread across her ugly face. "Gripa, have Hermione's things been taken to her room?"

"Yes, Mrs. Gripa had them taken up as soon as they came, Mrs."

"Excellent," Mrs. Zabini said, "Please have Paulina see to unpacking Hermione's things and then check on dinner."

"Oh, no, really," Hermione said quickly, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of having someone doing things she was perfectly capable of doing herself, "I'd much rather take care of unpacking myself. I mean, I've grown up doing things myself so…"

"It's no trouble, Miss," Gripa said, wiggling her ears excitedly, "Gripa will see to it."

And with a loud pop, Gripa disappeared before Hermione could protest again.

Hermione turned to Blaise and whispered, "I didn't know you had a house-elf."

"We have a house-elf… and we treat her very well so don't go trying to free her," Blaise whispered back.

"How did you know about S.P.E.W?"

Blaise chuckled. "Did you think that your efforts to free House-Elves would go un-noticed? Everyone at school knows about it. You've been trying to bully everyone into supporting S.P.E.W since the day you started it."

Hermione bristled at his teasing. "It's a very good cause!" she hissed, "I mean; honestly! How would you like being a slave to a rich family, always working, never getting days off, or paid for your work?"

"We don't treat our household servants that way! We treat them like family!"

"No matter if you treat them well, I'm sure they'd much rather be free…"

"Hermione, just let it go and enjoy your new life," Blaise interrupted, "besides, Gripa would be very upset if you even mentioned the idea of freeing her."

Suddenly, Hermione realized that she had forgotten Callidora. "Oh my! I've left Callidora at my parents!" she exclaimed, "What a wonderful pet owner I've turned out to be!"

Mrs. Zabini wrapped her arm around Hermione's thin shoulders. "There's nothing to worry about; she knows where to go," she told her daughter softly as they stepped into the mansion.

Hermione's eyes grew large as she looked around the spacious foyer. It was a very tall room that spanned the height of the mansion with four grand pillars lining either side. A long, carpeted staircase stood at the back of the foyer that branched off into two sections, one going left, and one going right.

A very surprising sense of home washed over Hermione as she took in the soft, deep green runner that ran from the front door all the way to the staircase. The high walls were a warm cream color and scattered with several gigantic pictures. Each of the framed occupants, Hermione noticed, was looking her way.

To be perfectly honest, Hermione was quite surprised at how warm and welcoming the mansion seemed to be. She had thought that the Zabinis lived in a sort of castle with a large dungeon or something of the sort. She knew it was childish to have thought that, but knowing what sort of people they tended to mingle with, it really wasn't too farfetched an idea.

Blaise smiled at his sister and gently grabbed her hand. "Come on, I'll show you to your room," he said, pulling her toward the staircase.

"Be dressed and down for dinner in an hour you two," Mrs. Zabini called after them, "Hermione, your evening gown is hanging in the closet."

Hermione looked curiously at Blaise as they came to the landing at the top and turned left. "Evening gown? We're required to dress formally for dinner?"

"Well, not usually," Blaise confessed, "but tonight is a sort of special night."

"Because of me?"

"Well, you coming home is cause for celebration; don't you think?"

She thought about that for a moment. "I suppose so," she admitted, "but is it really necessary to dress formally when it's only family?"

He gave her a strange look. "Mum didn't tell you in her letter that the Malfoy's are coming tonight?"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh what a great day this really has turned out to be," she said, "Not only do I find out that I'm a Zabini, betrothed to Malfoy, but I have to deal with the ever so affectionate ferret boy on my first night here? Lovely."

Blaise led her up another flight of stairs, laughing heartily. "That was a good one," he said, "You know, I heard about Professor Moody doing that, but I never actually saw it, did you?"

"Sadly, no, but the picture I have in my head from the story Harry told me is quite lovely," Hermione confessed.

Blaise looked at her with a smirk playing at his lips. "I thought you said you didn't hate him," he said.

Hermione blushed. "I don't," she confirmed, "but it's become a nasty habit to insult him; I mean, my best friends are his enemies… and it's not exactly easy to just give up insulting someone when that's all they've done to me for the past six years."

"Good point."

Hermione cleared her throat. "So, it must be weird for you, finding out you have a twin sister."

"Well, to be honest; I've always known about having a twin sister. Mum and Dad never kept that from me," he told her, "Whenever I'd ask what happened to you, they would just tell me that you got sick and had to go away to get better."

"So you don't even know why I was sent to live with the Grangers?"

"Nope. Mum and Dad would never tell me where they took you, or anything. All I knew was your first name. I didn't even make the connection until this morning when Mum told me we were bringing you home."

"Was it hard for you to cope with, hearing that I was your sister?" Hermione asked quietly, "I mean; we've never really spoken."

Blaise shrugged. "Well, no, not really. I mean; I never would've pegged you for my sister, but I must admit; it certainly fits."

Hermione looked confused. "What fits?"

"Why I never agreed with the things that were said about you; even from my own lips. I think deep down I knew who you really were," he said thoughtfully, "like I was unconsciously feeling some sort of connection to you."

Hermione wasn't quite certain that she believed this, but she wasn't going to argue with him about it. After all, he was being rather sweet to her. "So is it just the women in the Zabini family that marriages are arranged for?"

Blaise grinned as he answered, "Oh no, although I think I got the better end of the deal."

"Oh, so you're betrothed, too?" Hermione questioned, a bit relieved that she wasn't the only one that had to go through this.

Blaise nodded. "To a girl named Beatrice Graphook," he told her, "Charming girl, really; she attends Beauxbatons."

"So, do our parents think we're incapable of finding our own spouses?"

Blaise rolled his eyes and put on his best impression of their father. "It is tradition in the Zabini family that the parents arrange fitting marriages for their children so as to uphold the family's nobility."

"Did he actually say that?" Hermione asked.

"Right after I asked him why I couldn't pick my own wife," Blaise told her with a nod, "And can you believe that I only found out about being betrothed two weeks ago? I mean, you'd think I would have known before then but, no."

"Have you given Beatrice a ring?" Hermione questioned.

He nodded. "You're going to find out very quickly that our family is filled with traditions," he informed her, "One of which is that a mother's engagement ring is passed down to her son so that he can give it to his future wife."

Hermione looked down at her free hand, suddenly realizing she was still fisting the ring Draco had sent her, and held it up slightly, opening it. "I never thought I'd say this but, Malfoy has good taste in jewelry."

"He's actually pretty good at making jewelry, too," Blaise commented, "I wouldn't be surprised if he made that ring."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Malfoy makes jewelry?" she questioned, slightly impressed.

"Yeah, sometimes," Blaise said, taking a few more steps, "He made a rather splendid necklace for his mum's birthday last year actually."

"I never knew," she said, "If he made this, he's very talented." Even if it is too big.

Blaise cleared his throat momentarily before asking, "So I assume you wrote to Potter and Weasley about all this?"

Hermione nodded. "Ordinarily I'd say you shouldn't assume, but in this case, you'd be correct. I've written them, but I haven't had a chance to send the letter."

"They won't be able to help you get out of the betrothal, if that's what you're hoping for," he said, "So what's the point of telling them your business?"

"I'm not trying to get out of anything; I'm telling them about all this because they're my best friends and I could really use their support."

Blaise took a few more steps and stopped in front of a pair of tall, dark oak doors. "I understand, but just know that whatever they'll think of this, it probably isn't good and there's no way out of the engagement," he said, turning the handles and pushing the doors open, "This is your room."

Hermione's eyes widened to the size of saucers as she cautiously stepped into the room. It was very spacious with stained maple furniture and stained-glass windows that went from floor to ceiling, each with a rearing lion with a snake winding its way around its body. A deep red throw rug sat in front of the stone fireplace, which had a blazing fire in it, and matched perfectly with the deep red comforter that was neatly spread on her king sized bed.

She noticed that the room was decorated and arranged exactly as she liked it to be with her pictures framed and displayed on the walls or on her desk. Her desk was perfect for the way she liked to study; things spread everywhere so she could see all resources necessary. There was a large dresser against the far wall that she assumed contained all of her personal items, such as bras and underwear, and her Muggle clothes.

She moved her gaze to the left of the dresser and saw another door, also made of the same dark oak as the doors to enter her room. "Where does that lead?" she asked.

"That door leads to your private bathroom and the one on the other side is your closet."

She couldn't help herself; excitement washed over her and, eager to see what her bathroom looked like, Hermione almost ran across the room and flung the door open carefully. The sight before her almost took her breath away. The bathroom was almost the size of her bedroom.

A large, multiple person tub sat in the middle of the room with stairs leading down into it. A beautiful, sheer green curtain hung suspended several feet above the tub and looked as if it could be lowered to become a shower curtain. Vines crept up the walls and across the ceiling which appeared to have been enchanted to reflect the sky outside, like the ceiling in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The sink looked very much like a palm leaf and came right out of the wall. Just above that, a small waterfall trickled in mid-air, the large room reflected into it.

Hermione looked back at her brother and asked, "This is all for me?"

"Well you didn't think you were gonna be living like a Muggle anymore, did you?" he teased.

"Well, no, but I never expected this."

"Mum spares no expense when it comes to decorating the house," Blaise said, "It's her job, in a way; looking after the mansion. I'm sure if there's anything you don't like, or if you want to make changes…"

"Thank you, but that really won't be necessary," Hermione quickly interrupted, "This is all… very lovely and…"

Blaise grinned. "And not at all what you're used to."

"Yes."

"I can understand that."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look. "I doubt that," she said, "You were raised with all of this."

"Yes, I was, but I've never been spoiled," he thought for a moment, "Well cared for, yes, but spoiled? Never."

She laughed. "That's certainly one way of looking at it."

"Would you like to see how everything works?"

"Oh, yes please."

After Blaise gave her a quick lesson on how the fixtures in the bathroom worked, they walked out of the bathroom and Blaise sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment as she continued to look around her new room. She looked so bewildered that he couldn't help chuckling a bit. Hermione turned to him questioningly. "What?"

"Nothing, you just seem a bit… um… puzzled."

"Well how would you feel if you had just found out a few hours ago that you were really the child of Muggles?" Hermione countered.

"I'd probably be looking a lot like you are right now," Blaise admitted.

"I just haven't managed to wrap my head around all of this just yet," Hermione whispered.

Blaise nodded in understanding. "I can't even begin to imagine what must be going through your head right now," he said, "but I promise that you'll like it here. Mum and Dad have talked of nothing but bringing you home for the past week; they've missed you so much. We all have."

Hermione sighed heavily as she walked over and sat down next to Blaise, chewing on her bottom lip for several minutes. "I just really don't understand how they could have given me up the way they did," she said suddenly.

"Mum and Dad?"

"Yes, I mean; how can someone just leave their child in the hands of complete strangers and then come back for her seventeen years later? Why not sooner? Why come back at all?"

There were so many questions and thoughts running through Hermione's head she felt that if she didn't get them all out, she'd burst. As she ranted, she stood up and began pacing in front of the fireplace. Blaise turned his head, following her movements intently. It was quite amazing to him that she could go on for so long without pausing for anything other than a breath of air.

Finally, after several minutes, Hermione stopped pacing and looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

Blaise chuckled as he asked, "You don't actually expect me to answer every single one of those million questions; do you?"

Hermione ran her hand through her hair and huffed lightly. "Well, I suppose not," She said logically, "I'm sorry; I tend to rant when I'm feeling out of place."

"It's fine," Blaise told her, "To be honest, it was kind of like watching Mum."

"Really?" Hermione asked as she sat back down next to Blaise.

"Yeah; Mum goes on and on about things sometimes and she paces when she does it; just like you."

"Can you tell me more about our parents?"

Blaise ran a hand over the back of his neck and scrunched his nose a bit in thought. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything; everything," she answered, "My knowledge of this family begins and ends with Death Eaters and Slytherins."

"The first thing you should know is that our family shouldn't be defined by what we do, but who we are," he told her, not unkindly, "Not all of us support You-Know-Who."

Hermione saw the truth in his eyes and nodded. "I'm beginning to see that."

"Um, well, let me see here… Dad was born in Italy… you knew that though; didn't you?"

Hermione smiled a bit. "Well, the accent kind of gave that one away."

"Dad has an accent?" Blaise asked jokingly.

"Are our grandparents still living?"

"Yes… well, three of them anyway. Grandfather Zabini died when I… we… were four."

Just then, Blaise caught sight of the time. "Um… you should probably get ready for dinner," he said.

Following his gaze, Hermione noticed that a half hour had passed. The slight sense of calm that Hermione had been feeling quickly melted away and was replaced by nervousness and slight revulsion at the thought of dinner with the Malfoys, well Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy anyway. "Did you have to remind me?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, saying, "Oh it won't be that bad. Come on," he said, walking over to her closet.

"It's just so nerve-wrecking," Hermione stated, following him, "And I haven't had the best of experiences with the Malfoy's in the past."

He opened the door and walked in, followed shortly by Hermione. In the middle of the closet, resting on what seemed to be a life-sized model of herself was the most beautiful deep green dress she had ever laid eyes on. Her mouth dropped open as she walked over to it and gently touched the soft fabric; pure silk.

Blaise cleared his throat. "Well, I'll leave you to shower and dress. Gripa will most likely be up shortly to help you with your hair and I'm sure Paulina would be happy to help with the dress, if you need it."

Hermione came out of her daze. "Are you telling me that we have people that help us get dressed?"

Blaise shrugged. "Not exactly, but they're there if we need it."

She shook her head and smiled a little. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that and I've done my own hair for many years now; I'm pretty sure I can manage. No need for Gripa to worry herself."

"She's actually very gifted at fixing hair, but suit yourself. I'll be down the hall on the left if you need anything, okay?"

Hermione nodded and gave him a small smile. As he turned to leave, she called out to him, "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, "We've never gotten along before, so why now?"

Blaise's azure eyes saddened. "The last six years must have been horrible for you," he said, "being teased by Draco and so many others of us. I wouldn't be surprised if you hated me for all the things I've said and done to you, not only to your face, but behind your back, as well."

He took a deep breath and continued, "Despite all of that, and I honestly don't know how to explain this, but it's like I said earlier; whenever I've been around you, it's like I knew that we were connected somehow," he took her hand and squeezed it, "I'm so sorry for everything I've said and done to hurt you, Hermione."

Tears fell freely from Hermione's eyes as she listened to her brother's heartfelt words and saw the look of true remorse on his face. She had never thought she'd ever be able to forgive a Slytherin for tormenting her to no end, but as she looked at him, every hurtful comment and action he had been a part of melted away and she saw the truly kind young man underneath the façade. She walked over to him and hesitantly wrapped her arms around his thin waist in a hug. When she felt his strong arms wrap around her shoulders, she tightened her embrace and cried into his chest.

A few moments later, Hermione pulled away slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry! I made a mess on your shirt."

Blaise looked down at his shirt and shrugged. "It's not a big deal; it's just a shirt," he said softly, "I hope you can forgive me for everything."

"I don't know how I'm able to actually say this but, I do," she said, "You've accepted me into your family with open arms; I couldn't hate you for being so kind to me during an awkward time."

"Well, you're my sister, Gryffindor or not; I wouldn't be able to turn away a family member, especially one that's meant so much to me regardless of her absence."

Hermione smiled and wiped the tears away from her eyes. She glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. With a sniff and a deep breath she said, "Well, I guess I'd better get started on getting ready for dinner. I've got a family, a possible fiancé, and potential in-laws to impress, no matter how much I despise them… By "them" I mean the Malfoys, not…"

Blaise patted her hand and nodded in understanding. "You don't have to explain, I understand. Just give them a chance; I'm sure you'll come to at least like them a little bit," he said, "They're really not as bad as you think." He then walked out of her bedroom and closed the door quietly, leaving Hermione to prepare for the most nerve-wracking dinner she would ever have.

Author's note- Hope you enjoyed getting to see the sweet side of Blaise! Hope to hear from you!