If I See You Again
Chapter Four - The Stone Garden
A/N: Hello! So yeah, sorry I didn't get this up before nano, but here it is, and the next one is almost done so give me a couple days to sort it out and then I'll put it up.
Speaking of nanowrimo, did anyone else participate? How'd you go? I wrote 12,000 words in the last three days bit I made the goal so I'm really happy!
Hope you enjoy the chapter! If you're feeling really generous you could leave a review *poke poke* :)
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Hermione stormed away from her best friends, furious that the two could be so negative and jealous. Why couldn't they be excited for her? She was asked to the Yule Ball by Viktor freaking Krum.
Sometimes she just really needed some girls to talk to, but Lavender and Parvati were just shallow gossips. Parvati had already left Harry for some Durmstrang boys, but that could have more to do with the fact that Harry had been ignoring her.
Hermione wandered around the hall and eventually into the garden outside in her search for Viktor, but he was nowhere to be seen.
There was always Fay and Alice to talk to, but those two were rarely in Gryffindor Tower as they had a close group of friends in Hufflepuff.
The small courtyard held two entrances and was surrounded in dark green bushes that grew over the raised beds they grew in and trailed down the half walls. A single stone bench managed to look quite comfortable under the glow of the tall lamp post beside it.
Before Hermione knew what was happening, someone twirled her before pulling her in and slow dancing with her in very close proximity.
"How've you been?" A deep voice asked. Hermione was held so close to him she couldn't see his face, but she'd know that voice anywhere, even if she hardly ever heard it.
(Her hopeful musings and daydreams in classes didn't count.)
"Zabini?" she asked, shocked. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, it is the Yule Ball; half the school's here. So I brought my best suit from home and asked a girl to the dance. Unfortunately she declined," he finished with a sigh.
Hermione was beyond confused so remained silent.
"So, how are you?" he asked again. He sounded a little disappointed, as though she was supposed to reply to what he'd said earlier but obviously hadn't, but there was no change in his swaying as he guided her slowly around the little stone courtyard.
"I'm alright. A little tired since I don't usually stay up this late, but it'll pass."
"Naw you're so cute and innocent." Hermione could hear the smirk on his face through his words, but his hand softly pressed against her back kept her too close to him to actually see his face. "Do you wake up really early, too?"
"Well yes, I have to make sure I'm prepared for the days' work, and eat a good breakfast, and…" Hermione realised the rhetorical nature of his question and went quiet before saying, "you're not very nice, sometimes."
He stopped and stepped back so she could actually see him. He wore a black suit that looked very expensive and had a dark, mustard coloured silk shirt with a malachite green tie.
"I'm sorry," he said, his apologetic smile reached his eyes in the most alluring of ways. "I tease in a good natured way; most people I know just take anything I say with a grain of salt. Don't ever take me seriously, Granger."
This boy was so confusing. He could be so kind sometimes, but other times he was so condescending it was almost straight up criticism.
Seeking a change of topic before she felt really stupid, Hermione questioned his Hufflepuff-coloured shirt.
"You can talk," he laughed. "You're a Gryffindor but you're in a blue dress. I didn't say you looked like a Ravenclaw."
"I don't have money to seek out and tailor specifically designed dresses. My mother and I found this in at Oxfam."
Blaise's smile faltered but he pushed on. "Well, you look beautiful."
The breath of his words melted Hermione. Neither Harry nor Ron had had anything to say, and Viktor had said he liked her dress, but he acted like she was a toy he had recently acquired and was now going to prove himself to everyone.
Blaise. Blaise looked so earnestly and adoringly at her, but it was more than just a dress, Hermione had proven herself to be confident but carefree, smart but innocent, someone he would very much like to know better than monthly secret meetings.
She could see he was thinking, and was almost self-conscious for it. She raised a hand, ready to slap his arm and wake him, but the movement alone registered in his eyes and he gave his head the slightest of shakes. For a single moment, there was a look of something like regret, but it disappeared quickly.
"Zabini colours," he said, not quite sounding himself yet. Distracted. When was he ever distracted and not in control? At the very least in the presence of others he made sure to always be in control of his actions. "We're yellow and green."
"Are they an Italian pureblood family?" Hermione asked. She almost tried to sound unimpressed, but he wasn't quite himself and she wasn't sure how to handle this glassy-eyed boy.
"Er, yeah," Blaise said, blinking.
"Or… Italy has a mafia doesn't it? Is your family part of the wizarding mafia?"
Blaise's stance changed so quickly Hermione took a step back in fright. His body shook with laughter so heavy he had to sit down, his shoulders shaking and his hands on his knees to keep himself sitting upright. Eventually he brushed away a stray tear and patted the space on the stone bench next to him.
"No, we're not part of the mafia," he had to stop for a second as another bubble of laughter escaped him. "We're one of three magical families."
"So does another family use Ravenclaw and Gryffindor colours?" Hermione asked.
Blaise laughed again, but then suddenly stopped. "I was going to say no, but yes, the Palladino family uses blue and red. But the colours they use are very pale, almost blurry."
"Very specific of you," Hermione said with raised eyebrows.
"I have a Palladino friend, she's always very specific that their colours are nuvoloso; cloudy. They like it because they take it to mean 'no one sees them coming', or 'they hide their power', or something… something about an oncoming storm. She changes the story every time, I swear."
Hermione tried not to react to the mention of a friend who was a girl he had back home, who was probably good friends with Blaise by the sounds of it, enough to lecture him about family colours 'every time'.
Why was she feeling so frustrated by a friend of his that he only mentioned to answer a question she had asked. And come to think of it, it's not like the two were that good friends, they just snuck in a quiet moment now and then. Hermione had no claim to any business of Blaise's, especially not over in Italy.
Suddenly she was curious.
"What's it like over there?"
The shock barely registered past a flicker of his eyes before he gave her a little side smile. "What do you want to know?"
"Is your Ministry as stupid as ours?" she asked bluntly.
She had grown very frustrated over the whole Tournament fiasco, and how poorly they'd handled Harry's name coming out of the Goblet, but since then it was like she could suddenly see all their ineptitudes; Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup, laws restricting 'half breeds' like Lupin, the bias of various ministry officials within Daily Prophet articles.
"Well we have a Council instead." Blaise said.
"A Council?" she repeated. It already sounded bigoted and easily manipulated.
"One wizened witch or wizard to represent each of the great three families'." Blaise spoke as though quoting a Potions text. "Currently it's Lady Horatia Marguesa Zabini. She's pretty awesome, and she makes the most amazing panettone. And then there's Lady Cornelia Tertia Alcina Cornelii, and Sir Gaius Nazari Palladino. He's probably the most traditional of the three."
"Sounds interesting," Hermione said. "I don't suppose –"
"Herm-own-ninny?" came a gruff voice. Hermione jumped up, and Blaise followed suit.
"So I actually followed you for a reason," Blaise said quickly.
"What's that?" She asked, her eyes watching the paths for Viktor. "Quick, he'll be here any second."
"I don't know if I… Promise me you'll understand?" He sounded agitated. Hermione tore her eyes away from the castle to see Blaise's cool and charming demeanour gone. His hands fidgeted, almost wanting to grasp her shoulders but instead twitching by his side. "Promise!"
"I promise, what is it?" She was worried now.
"I just…" Blaise switched into his native tongue and Hermione, understanding none of it, could only appreciate the complexities of being bilingual and note the desperation in his voice.
"Blaise, what-"
"Please, just trust me." More Italian. "I'm so sorry." Blaise really did look sorry, like whatever he'd said was the last thing he wanted to say. Like he was being forced to snap his own wand.
Before Hermione could even try to make him translate himself, he disappeared into the night, and Viktor came around the corner and handed her some Raspberry Butterbeer, just as she'd requested.