Chapter Seven
Crashing Down
Fragments of her wedding night came slowly to her when she woke the next morning. It was certainly not the wedding night of girls dreams. Blaise sweetly was determined not to pressure her, but she had done so well to repress everything else to act okay for his sake that she wasn't about to ruin it. They took it slow, slower than her and Draco. Emotionally she detached herself as she did for their wedding.
Hermione did wonderfully, and she was proud of how she made it through, but it came crashing down on her the next morning as it would many more times in the future.
Memories resurfaced, the ones that couldn't be put away through repressing. Draco's face at her wedding was the clearest one. He looked to be in physical pain. She wanted to call him then, to make sure he was okay, but she resisted the urge. It wasn't hard, she couldn't get out of the bed to even get to the phone.
She forced to move her legs, and felt the blankets soft on her bare skin. She looked over, and her heart dropped. A gorgeous dark man laid next to her, still asleep, his hand over his chest, his ring glinting in the sunlight pouring from the window.
That was her motivation. Slipping out of bed she took the top sheet wrapping herself in it, and went to the window. The neatly mowed grass swayed in the breeze, happy from the nourishment the light was giving. Then it began raining. She realized that she was in fact crying. She trembled, leaning against the patio window. As she sobbed she felt thick strong arms wound themselves around her waist. It was the last thing she wanted - to be comforted by him, but she let him support her.
The night she got her letter she thought her world had come crashing down. She didn't know it was only a crack, one of many that would eventually lead to its crumbling. It was crashing on her then, burying her under its rubble.
"Shhh," he cooed. "It's okay..."
How could she tell him it wasn't? She turned her body towards his burying her face in the crook of his neck slicking it with her quiet tears. She felt his exposed flesh, the warmth of it. She wanted to put distance between them, it felt too intimate, her feelings too close to the surface that she was going to combust.
"Hermione..." His hands on her shoulders he pushed her back. "Perhaps you should go see Venice yourself today. Without me. That would be best."
She shook her head, "I don't understand. This is our honeymoon," she flinched at the word.
"I've seen Venice countless of times. I'd love to show you the sights, but you're in need of being alone, and I don't reckon you want to go home. You're strong, you have your wand, you'll be better seeing it alone. I have some things I can take care of while I'm here."
She stared at him in wonder. She didn't have to explain anything to him. Somehow he knew how she felt. She hugged him tightly, kissed his cheek, and went to the wardrobe to get dressed. Jeans, and a halter. She flashed him a thankful smile. He looked put-out, but understanding. She did need to be alone.
With her pack containing her money, and bottle of water, the map he given her, and some words he taught her in the last second, she left. She hailed a taxi, told the driver where to go, and traveled everywhere in Venice. She went to St. Mark's Square, and in the corner to the Teatro San Gallo, the breath-taking Santa Maria Gloriosa Dei Frari, Rialtobridge, Academia to admire Europe's best art collections.
When the sun was well on its way to setting her head was spinning, and her feet aching. She stopped into Cafe Florian for a random beverage. She couldn't read any of it, and if she could make a very logical guess she didn't know how good it would be, so she ordered something random. Blaise should have taught her more than "please," "thank you," "sorry," and "I don't speak Italian."
The cafe was lovely in an old-style. Beautiful paintings, and gold designs covered the walls yet it was comfortable. Dozens of small tables, and chairs sat outside, and though it was nice, and sunny she went inside to a small corner, and was still able to hear the soft music being personally orchestrated outside on a balcony.
The day did do its intended purpose. She had been alone, but instead of making her feel better, she felt worse. She was seeing attractions alone on her honeymoon while her husband was likely working. It wasn't fair to him, but she would have never seen the downside to it if she didn't give it a try. She couldn't help but feel glad that she did the days activities on her own. She needed her time to grieve, no matter how little time she had.
She twirled her new ring on her finger feeling Draco's heavy on her neck. She had broken her promise, the one she made with herself days before the wedding. She was determined to be the best wife to Blaise no matter the circumstances of how they came to be. She was already breaking that promise, and the guilt became barreling into her gut. Maybe it wasn't best that she went on her own.
Hermione slipped the ring off to take a closer look at it, the waitress setting her cup in front of her. She stopped her inspecting long enough to taste it. It was a good thing that the waitress turned her back, because her face was contorted in disgust. Whatever it was she ordered wasn't good at all. There was a plant next to her, and in order not to offend anyone she would pour it out before she paid her bill.
She held the ring closer to her, and with the glint from the sun through the window she saw something inside. An engraving. She moved it faintly to read the inscription: La mia scelta. She didn't know what that meant. Putting aside that Blaise put an inscription on her ring that she couldn't read, why would he put one there at all? Unless it was for him.
Hermione wasn't known for patience, or apathy, not when it came to knowledge. Putting her ring back on, and checking the room for any witness she poured her beverage into the plant, laid her money on the table, and left.
The ride to the Zabini hotel was slow, and when it stopped she practically threw her money to the man running inside. The elevator was slower than the driver. She fumbled with her key to 721, but when she was able to unlock it she looked like she had barged it, the way the door swung open and crashed behind her. She had become angrier from the cafe, and she didn't know why, she just was.
At the far end of the lounge by the door to the bedroom Blaise sat behind his desk bent over a stack of papers. He looked up his brows raised in suspicion. "Is anything wrong," he asked slowly, patronizingly.
"La mia scelta?!"
He sighed heavily, and placed his quill into the ink bottle. "Sai che cosa significa?"
"I don't speak Italian!"
"I asked if you knew what it meant."
"Clearly I don't!"
Calmly he stood flicking his wand to close the door, and then waved his hand to the bed offering her to sit down. She didn't, and he shrugged his shoulders. "If you recall my birthday was March 25. You, and Draco attended the party."
Hermione did remember. There were nearly a hundred people in the lobby of one of the hotels Blaise owned in England. It wasn't wild, a very subdued formal event; a nice way of saying boring. "I remember."
"There was a man there, he's high up in the Department of Magical Law -"
"Get to the point," she seethed any lack of patience she had ebbing.
"I've liked you for a long time, Hermione. I remember the first time you caught my eye. It was during the war, and while I was battling on my side I saw you fighting on yours. You were furious, untamable, and I'm sure I fell in love with you then. I spent my dues in Azkaban, and I came back on the decision to make everything right, and hopefully make you mine. It would take time - I knew that, but you were already Draco's."
She felt herself soften slightly, but held her rigid form.
"I couldn't tell Draco, so I told that man. He wasn't a friend, merely a very annoying Wizard that followed me around in Hogwarts." At the look of horror on her face he held up his hands defensively, "no, it's not what you think! I didn't ask him any favors. No one knew about the law. He was a little tipsy though, and told me that he didn't get me a gift, but it was to come. He set you up with me. Hermione, I would never ask him to do such a thing, I would never do that to Draco, or you -"
"Then why didn't you tell him to change it?" She balled her hands into fists shaking with rage.
"I tried," he yelled back. "I did try, but it was set, it was too late!"
She trembled with her renewed anger. "A gift?! I was a gift, like a slave!"
"That's the wrong way to look at it -"
"How do you look at it then? Honestly, Blaise this is sick!"
"Isn't it better this way though," he asked desperately, his voice soft again. "I know you'd rather be with Draco, and I want that for you too, but you could've ended up with someone horrible. With the exception of you, and Ginny it was all random. You could have ended up with anyone, but you're with me, and I won't hurt you, I'll do anything to make you happy."
Hermione focused on loosening her fists, at calming her out-of-control breathing. It wasn't his fault. He didn't do this.She barely felt the tears streaming. "La mia scelta. What does it mean?"
Blaise tensed. "My choice."
"Your choice..."
"You were always my choice. I've never wanted anyone else. I may not be yours, but you'll always be mine. Hermione do you remember the paintings in the lounge?" When she nodded he went on, "I painted those in Azkaban. It was my escape. I imagined going to those places, visiting them with you. Those were through our eyes. Every place I painted I planned on taking you to."
In a significant wave of sorrow Hermione's rage was gone. She felt like she was on the worst roller coaster of her life, but she couldn't help but bolt forward hugging him their sadness overcoming her.
He flinched, then held her. She tilted backwards holding his face between her hands. "I'll be the best wife I can for you." She meant it that time. She would be. No matter what.
"I don't expect you to pretend you love me."
"No, but..." She bit her lip coming close to bleeding. She hated what she was going to say next. It was the final crack in her world. The final blow. "I love learning."
A/N: Unfortunately my laptop needs repair. I'm very lucky that this story was backed-up, but I'm afraid that along the way I'll be making improvements all over again. It was only the rough draft.
I do not speak Italian, so like I have said in "Letters of Forgiveness" I'm doing this by translator. I apologise if it's rough or incorrect. That goes for the descriptions to the cafe Hermione visited in Venice. I was going by a multitude of pictures.
