Disclaimer: JKR, not me. Alas...
Dedication: To all the pirates at the HMS Overworked and Underappreciated. This started out as a one-shot cookie, but is now growing.
It may have taken Hermione seven years to notice Blaise, but it was safe to say that now he had her full attention. Well, as much as possible considering NEWTs were upon them. There were three more days of exams left to be followed by three more days until graduation. As seventh years, the three days would be spent doing graduation activities that Hermione would have once called frivolous but now looked forward to with alarming sentimentality.
She would have time to blubber platitudes about forking paths and absence making the heart grow fonder later, she promised herself. For tomorrow she had a thesis due in Unreadable Runes, a practical exam in her Voodoo Seminar, as well as a NEWT on Post Euclidean Arithmancy. She looked across the study table to her boyfriend and smiled. Not many people were able to keep up with her during revision, but he worked diligently (quietly!) and never acted as though her study habits were a sign of incipient madness or repeated concussion. They had studied for the Transfiguration and DADA examinations together and rather effectively, she thought. Between their combined resources, she was sure they had earned top marks. His notes had been outlined and glossed within an inch of the parchment's life before she had even seen them; it was so nice not to have to threaten someone with boils when lending her own notes for once, she knew he would respect them and not accidentally set them on fire (like others she had trusted in her young third year naivete).
She had been nervous the first time she invited him to the Head Students' common room to study, but he had put her at ease quickly. He didn't have any nervous coughs or loud habits. And when Blaise tired of revising, he stopped but didn't bother about her taking a break except in cases where she obviously needed one. He did not whine about his hunger pains or being trapped inside a boring castle on a sunny day. She liked studying with him. He offered a different view, but always gave valid reasons for opposition. In times when she could be persuaded to pause, she liked talking to him. He was as funny as the first they'd met and occasionally rather wicked in his observations.
He looked so good when he studied, too. His wavy hair had the habit of obscuring his high cheekbones so he frequently tucked the strands behind his spectacles. They were rimless squares of charmed glass that perched on his aquiline nose, somehow emphasizing his long lashes and fine eyebrows. She usually thought that perfect eyebrows were wasted on undeserving men, but not in Blaise's case. He was just...carelessly elegant. Harry, her dearest friend, was carelessly messy. Ron showed slightly more interest in his appearance, but only because his muscle mass had finally become proportionate to his great height and he took care to wear clothing that emphasized his frame. It helped that in sixth year, Ron had also realized that maroon was not a flattering color for freckled redheads.
Hermione suspected Lavender had informed him, at great length.
Although Blaise was fastidious in his hygiene, his concern for his physical appearance didn't go beyond basic grooming. Hermione was confident (after years of struggle) in her own looks, but any stylishness was the result of thoughtful deliberation. Not that she'd seen him dress, but she suspected Blaise pulled out whatever was clean in his wardrobe. She had once asked about his summer-weight cloak under the guise of looking for graduation gifts for the boys. Blaise confessed his clothing was the collaboration of his overly concerned mother and her talented tailor. Hermione immediately resolved to write them a sincere letter of gratitude on behalf of the world at large. Clearly, they were doing gods' work.
Right now, he was wearing a cream colored linen shirt with the top three buttons undone and lovely smooth black pants. The colors made his skin glow in the early evening light-
"Hermione?"
"Huh?"
"You're staring." He straightened his spectacles on his nose and tucked his hair away again.
Well, Hermione thought, if he's going to do /that/.
"Are you using that book," she pointed across the table at a particularly thick tome.
He looked down, "Divination for Business?"
"That's the one." She had quietly moved around the table by the time he looked back up. She smiled at him impishly before sliding one hand around the nape of his neck and drawing him to her for a kiss.
It was some time later when Hermione released him and they were both breathing heavily. At some point, she had conveniently moved into his lap and she lay her cheek against his chest to take advantage of the position. She'd never felt more /wanted/.
She sighed contentedly and could feel the vibration of his chest against her body when he chuckled in return. He propped her chin up with one of his fingers so she would look at him.
He scolded her with mock severity. "I have an Herbology NEWT tomorrow, my wicked one."
"Well, I'll just take that book then." She turned back to the table to pick up the text but he held her on his lap.
"I did say tomorrow, you know."
"Oh?"
He answered her with another kiss. Both of his hands slipped around her waist and beneath her shirt to rub circular runes on the small of her back. Her hands fisted in his hair when he began to suck on the tender flesh at her throat.
It was in this intimate position that Ron and Harry found them.
The boys' initial reaction was not the problem. They were seventh years after all and Hermione had had boyfriends. Granted, Hermione had suffered a period of brotherly overprotectiveness but she thought they were over it. It had been at least a year since they had dusted off their interrogation schtick. These days their repertoire mostly consisted of shrieking, "My eyes! My eyes!" and running away from even the smallest displays of public affection.
Apparently not.
They hauled Hermione off Blaise without ceremony.
"What are you doing?" She was indignant, she had been, clearly, in the middle of something of vital importance.
"Us? What about you?"
"Do you know who that is?" Harry pointed accusingly at Blaise while Ron sputtered. Hermione worried for Ron's heart, such stress was surely not healthy.
"Of course I know who he is," Hermione hissed. She would have yelled but it would have woken Malfoy up and interference from the Slytherin Head Boy was the last thing they needed. "Now if you don't mind, I need to study."
"Is that what they call it these days?" Harry did an impressive imitation of Mrs. Weasely while Ron crossed his arms in the background.
Years of friendship had taught Hermione how best to deal with the boy's temper tantrums. She glared before pointing at the portrait hole. In her coldest voice she told them, "Leave now. We'll talk about this later."
They both gave her dirty looks but left quietly. As things went, the unexpected confrontation was actually rather mild. They had weathered worse, and would, no doubt, survive worse in the future. At least they had not unsheathed their wands. She would have hated to hex her best friends.
She sighed and sat down in her original seat. She looked across to Blaise and flinched. He was packing his books.
"Hey," she said softly. "They're just...the victims of tragic and repeated head wounds."
He looked at her, his eyes cold and clear of any of the usual affection and good humor. "You didn't tell them w were dating, Hermione."
"They knew we were studying together."
"You would study with Crabbe and Goyle if you thought they had any insight."
"But not for three weeks! And I certainly wouldn't let them into my private space. Ron and Harry know I wouldn't spend so much time with just anyone."
He glared at her. "But you still didn't tell them."
"Well, excuse me for giving them so much credit. I couldn't tell them about our late night flying lessons but it's not like we've been creeping about the castle and snogging behind tapestries. I take most of my meals in here and we don't study in the library for the whole school to see. I never tried to hide our relationship; I just thought they were just taking it well."
"Right." He snorted disbelievingly. "I knew this was going to happen."
"What are you talking about? That divination class is going to your head. Have you been drinking Trelawney's /special/ tea leaves and breathing in her /special/ incense?"
"It's not tea leaves, Hermione. I've watched you for a long time...liked you for a long time. There's a pattern to your dating habits, you never date anyone longer than four weeks or until two exams are given on the same day, whichever comes first. Plus with it being so near graduation, I knew my time was coming. I'd be left behind with all the other childish things when you embarked on some glorious career culminating in your appointment as the youngest Minister of Magic. I mean I don't even know what the glorious career will be or where you'll be living. If you were anywhere as serious as I am about you, you would have at least given me a clue."
Any other girl would have found the thoughtful analysis of her lovelife creepifying but Hermione found it endearing and somewhat attractive. In a way, it proved their compatibility. Because he was right, and he didn't even know about her few Muggle boyfriends.
Time to admire his way with statistics later though, because he had just made a mistake in his argument. It was easy to take this lightly when she know this was really no more than a misunderstanding. She wagged her finger at him, "It's not like you've given me a clue about what you'll be doing. So I have no basis from which to measure how serious you are about me using that particular standard. Therefore I can make no comparison relative to my own feelings."
"You didn't even know I existed for seven years."
"Six years and eight point five months," she corrected him. "And I can't help that. I like you now. I like you very much. I'm your broomslayer."
"You can't even say girlfriend."
"No, I thought you'd find my use of your affectionate nickname a good reminder of our heretofore healthy and /understandable/ relationship. I can say the words. Listen: girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend. I am your girlfriend." She paused. "Is this some kind of Slytherin reverse psychology? Are you trying to break up with me?"
"No." He grunted but let her take his hand. "Do you want to break up with me? I mean, you know how a broom won't obey you unless you really want it? Well, I don't want to be with you unless you really want me."
Hermione blinked. "Did you just use a broomstick metaphor?"
His silence made her realize just how crucial this conversation truly was; any other time he would have offered her a bit of his perveted sense of humor. Something fundamental in Hermione cried out, 'Do you realize we have exams tomorrow? We don't have time for this.' It was a measure of Blaise's importance to her, that she stifled the cry.
She took a deep breath before speaking. "I want to be with you. It may have taken seven years, but you made quite the first impression. You're funny, smart, patient, and you smell lovely which is not as common as you might think in eighteen year old males who've supposedly mastered the scourgify charm. And you're rather...dashing."
He looked at her doubtfully.
"Did I not just molest you? If you've been watching me for as long as you keep saying, you have to know I do not shove revision off for just any darkly handsome guy who happens to be my boyfriend." She blushed, "I'm lusting after you, but not just your body. I like your wicked sense of humor and how quiet you are when you concentrate on things like the aerial hospitality ceremonies of Ancient Near East cultures. You have my attention, and I want yours. I want you to concentrate on me. I want to be with you. Honestly."
Blaise rubbed his free hand through his hair before looking into her eyes.
"I can't do this right now. Look, I need to study. Can we talk after NEWTs? Friday night?"
It was the practical thing to do but it didn't make her happy. She nodded anyway.
He grabbed his books and brushed a quick kiss against her cheek. "Thank you."
----
I think I'm running through all the Hermione cliches. The first was Hermione and flying, now we've got "Rona and Harry find out!" Ah, well. It was a bit of a different thing but I hoped you liked it...
Dedication: To all the pirates at the HMS Overworked and Underappreciated. This started out as a one-shot cookie, but is now growing.
It may have taken Hermione seven years to notice Blaise, but it was safe to say that now he had her full attention. Well, as much as possible considering NEWTs were upon them. There were three more days of exams left to be followed by three more days until graduation. As seventh years, the three days would be spent doing graduation activities that Hermione would have once called frivolous but now looked forward to with alarming sentimentality.
She would have time to blubber platitudes about forking paths and absence making the heart grow fonder later, she promised herself. For tomorrow she had a thesis due in Unreadable Runes, a practical exam in her Voodoo Seminar, as well as a NEWT on Post Euclidean Arithmancy. She looked across the study table to her boyfriend and smiled. Not many people were able to keep up with her during revision, but he worked diligently (quietly!) and never acted as though her study habits were a sign of incipient madness or repeated concussion. They had studied for the Transfiguration and DADA examinations together and rather effectively, she thought. Between their combined resources, she was sure they had earned top marks. His notes had been outlined and glossed within an inch of the parchment's life before she had even seen them; it was so nice not to have to threaten someone with boils when lending her own notes for once, she knew he would respect them and not accidentally set them on fire (like others she had trusted in her young third year naivete).
She had been nervous the first time she invited him to the Head Students' common room to study, but he had put her at ease quickly. He didn't have any nervous coughs or loud habits. And when Blaise tired of revising, he stopped but didn't bother about her taking a break except in cases where she obviously needed one. He did not whine about his hunger pains or being trapped inside a boring castle on a sunny day. She liked studying with him. He offered a different view, but always gave valid reasons for opposition. In times when she could be persuaded to pause, she liked talking to him. He was as funny as the first they'd met and occasionally rather wicked in his observations.
He looked so good when he studied, too. His wavy hair had the habit of obscuring his high cheekbones so he frequently tucked the strands behind his spectacles. They were rimless squares of charmed glass that perched on his aquiline nose, somehow emphasizing his long lashes and fine eyebrows. She usually thought that perfect eyebrows were wasted on undeserving men, but not in Blaise's case. He was just...carelessly elegant. Harry, her dearest friend, was carelessly messy. Ron showed slightly more interest in his appearance, but only because his muscle mass had finally become proportionate to his great height and he took care to wear clothing that emphasized his frame. It helped that in sixth year, Ron had also realized that maroon was not a flattering color for freckled redheads.
Hermione suspected Lavender had informed him, at great length.
Although Blaise was fastidious in his hygiene, his concern for his physical appearance didn't go beyond basic grooming. Hermione was confident (after years of struggle) in her own looks, but any stylishness was the result of thoughtful deliberation. Not that she'd seen him dress, but she suspected Blaise pulled out whatever was clean in his wardrobe. She had once asked about his summer-weight cloak under the guise of looking for graduation gifts for the boys. Blaise confessed his clothing was the collaboration of his overly concerned mother and her talented tailor. Hermione immediately resolved to write them a sincere letter of gratitude on behalf of the world at large. Clearly, they were doing gods' work.
Right now, he was wearing a cream colored linen shirt with the top three buttons undone and lovely smooth black pants. The colors made his skin glow in the early evening light-
"Hermione?"
"Huh?"
"You're staring." He straightened his spectacles on his nose and tucked his hair away again.
Well, Hermione thought, if he's going to do /that/.
"Are you using that book," she pointed across the table at a particularly thick tome.
He looked down, "Divination for Business?"
"That's the one." She had quietly moved around the table by the time he looked back up. She smiled at him impishly before sliding one hand around the nape of his neck and drawing him to her for a kiss.
It was some time later when Hermione released him and they were both breathing heavily. At some point, she had conveniently moved into his lap and she lay her cheek against his chest to take advantage of the position. She'd never felt more /wanted/.
She sighed contentedly and could feel the vibration of his chest against her body when he chuckled in return. He propped her chin up with one of his fingers so she would look at him.
He scolded her with mock severity. "I have an Herbology NEWT tomorrow, my wicked one."
"Well, I'll just take that book then." She turned back to the table to pick up the text but he held her on his lap.
"I did say tomorrow, you know."
"Oh?"
He answered her with another kiss. Both of his hands slipped around her waist and beneath her shirt to rub circular runes on the small of her back. Her hands fisted in his hair when he began to suck on the tender flesh at her throat.
It was in this intimate position that Ron and Harry found them.
The boys' initial reaction was not the problem. They were seventh years after all and Hermione had had boyfriends. Granted, Hermione had suffered a period of brotherly overprotectiveness but she thought they were over it. It had been at least a year since they had dusted off their interrogation schtick. These days their repertoire mostly consisted of shrieking, "My eyes! My eyes!" and running away from even the smallest displays of public affection.
Apparently not.
They hauled Hermione off Blaise without ceremony.
"What are you doing?" She was indignant, she had been, clearly, in the middle of something of vital importance.
"Us? What about you?"
"Do you know who that is?" Harry pointed accusingly at Blaise while Ron sputtered. Hermione worried for Ron's heart, such stress was surely not healthy.
"Of course I know who he is," Hermione hissed. She would have yelled but it would have woken Malfoy up and interference from the Slytherin Head Boy was the last thing they needed. "Now if you don't mind, I need to study."
"Is that what they call it these days?" Harry did an impressive imitation of Mrs. Weasely while Ron crossed his arms in the background.
Years of friendship had taught Hermione how best to deal with the boy's temper tantrums. She glared before pointing at the portrait hole. In her coldest voice she told them, "Leave now. We'll talk about this later."
They both gave her dirty looks but left quietly. As things went, the unexpected confrontation was actually rather mild. They had weathered worse, and would, no doubt, survive worse in the future. At least they had not unsheathed their wands. She would have hated to hex her best friends.
She sighed and sat down in her original seat. She looked across to Blaise and flinched. He was packing his books.
"Hey," she said softly. "They're just...the victims of tragic and repeated head wounds."
He looked at her, his eyes cold and clear of any of the usual affection and good humor. "You didn't tell them w were dating, Hermione."
"They knew we were studying together."
"You would study with Crabbe and Goyle if you thought they had any insight."
"But not for three weeks! And I certainly wouldn't let them into my private space. Ron and Harry know I wouldn't spend so much time with just anyone."
He glared at her. "But you still didn't tell them."
"Well, excuse me for giving them so much credit. I couldn't tell them about our late night flying lessons but it's not like we've been creeping about the castle and snogging behind tapestries. I take most of my meals in here and we don't study in the library for the whole school to see. I never tried to hide our relationship; I just thought they were just taking it well."
"Right." He snorted disbelievingly. "I knew this was going to happen."
"What are you talking about? That divination class is going to your head. Have you been drinking Trelawney's /special/ tea leaves and breathing in her /special/ incense?"
"It's not tea leaves, Hermione. I've watched you for a long time...liked you for a long time. There's a pattern to your dating habits, you never date anyone longer than four weeks or until two exams are given on the same day, whichever comes first. Plus with it being so near graduation, I knew my time was coming. I'd be left behind with all the other childish things when you embarked on some glorious career culminating in your appointment as the youngest Minister of Magic. I mean I don't even know what the glorious career will be or where you'll be living. If you were anywhere as serious as I am about you, you would have at least given me a clue."
Any other girl would have found the thoughtful analysis of her lovelife creepifying but Hermione found it endearing and somewhat attractive. In a way, it proved their compatibility. Because he was right, and he didn't even know about her few Muggle boyfriends.
Time to admire his way with statistics later though, because he had just made a mistake in his argument. It was easy to take this lightly when she know this was really no more than a misunderstanding. She wagged her finger at him, "It's not like you've given me a clue about what you'll be doing. So I have no basis from which to measure how serious you are about me using that particular standard. Therefore I can make no comparison relative to my own feelings."
"You didn't even know I existed for seven years."
"Six years and eight point five months," she corrected him. "And I can't help that. I like you now. I like you very much. I'm your broomslayer."
"You can't even say girlfriend."
"No, I thought you'd find my use of your affectionate nickname a good reminder of our heretofore healthy and /understandable/ relationship. I can say the words. Listen: girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend. I am your girlfriend." She paused. "Is this some kind of Slytherin reverse psychology? Are you trying to break up with me?"
"No." He grunted but let her take his hand. "Do you want to break up with me? I mean, you know how a broom won't obey you unless you really want it? Well, I don't want to be with you unless you really want me."
Hermione blinked. "Did you just use a broomstick metaphor?"
His silence made her realize just how crucial this conversation truly was; any other time he would have offered her a bit of his perveted sense of humor. Something fundamental in Hermione cried out, 'Do you realize we have exams tomorrow? We don't have time for this.' It was a measure of Blaise's importance to her, that she stifled the cry.
She took a deep breath before speaking. "I want to be with you. It may have taken seven years, but you made quite the first impression. You're funny, smart, patient, and you smell lovely which is not as common as you might think in eighteen year old males who've supposedly mastered the scourgify charm. And you're rather...dashing."
He looked at her doubtfully.
"Did I not just molest you? If you've been watching me for as long as you keep saying, you have to know I do not shove revision off for just any darkly handsome guy who happens to be my boyfriend." She blushed, "I'm lusting after you, but not just your body. I like your wicked sense of humor and how quiet you are when you concentrate on things like the aerial hospitality ceremonies of Ancient Near East cultures. You have my attention, and I want yours. I want you to concentrate on me. I want to be with you. Honestly."
Blaise rubbed his free hand through his hair before looking into her eyes.
"I can't do this right now. Look, I need to study. Can we talk after NEWTs? Friday night?"
It was the practical thing to do but it didn't make her happy. She nodded anyway.
He grabbed his books and brushed a quick kiss against her cheek. "Thank you."
----
I think I'm running through all the Hermione cliches. The first was Hermione and flying, now we've got "Rona and Harry find out!" Ah, well. It was a bit of a different thing but I hoped you liked it...