Title: Truth Is

Chapter: 10

Author name: Brittney

Category: Romance

Sub Category: Drama

Keywords: Blaise Hermione OC Politics

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP

Summary: Blaise and Hermione haven't spoken to one another in three years, suddenly they are once more apart of each other's life. When you think you can't hurt any worse, and you think your hope can never be revived, love shows up and makes a fool of you. Not HBP Compatable

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: Not HBP Compatable! Blaise is still Italian, it was too late in the game to change it. I couldn't end it quickly so the story continues, I really don't know how many chapters are left but we have an ENTIRE summer to figure out!


"Truth Is"

Chapter 10

(Four Days Later: Chile)

Ian sighed, feeling the muscle in his jawjump, this was not what he wanted to hear. After spending ten days in South America, attempting to salvage what was left of his relationship, this was not anything that he wanted to hear. He wanted to see her step into the room, remove her jacket and robes, and announce that it was time to go home. Home to him, home to their life, home to their relationship, but most of all home to their love. He was not expecting this news and knew not how to react. "So you are going to Spain?"

"It's my job, Ian," Hermione replied as she ran fingers through her thick mane, hoping her irritation wasn't a sign of the stress to come, "you expect me to quit now after all I've sacrificed for this?"

"I know it's your job but can't you do it in England?" he asked, his voice low, as he tried to hide his frustration.

She sighed, as she turned to him, her eyes reading the disappointment that radiated off of him. "My job is where ever Blaise says it is, so right now I have to plan for a trip to Spain. Those men may have been caught, Ian, but that is only the beginning, peacemaking has just begun."

"Blaise?" Ian laughed, his chuckle deeply sarcastic as he shook his head and bit his lip. "Blaise? He'd ask you to fly around the world with him as long as it would keep you away from me! Hermione, don't you see that bloody man is still in love with you!"

"That doesn't matter, Ian," she replied, softly, not wanting to acknowledge what she knew to be true, "I still have to do my job."

Ian's countenance harbored a well of emotions as he struggled not to lose his composure. "How could it not matter? He is the only thing that has ever come between us, so why doesn't it matter?"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at his sudden air of offense, placing a well manicured hand on her hip, she asked, "So he's coming between us?"

"I'm not saying he is -- and I'm not saying he has -- I'm saying," he relented, running his hands over his face with a sigh, "that we need to fight so he won't be able to do a damn thing to us."

"Either way I choose I cannot win," she whimpered, as she turned away from him to gaze out her window. "If I say I'll go home with you I could possibly lose the position that I've worked for my whole life or even be seen as inadequate in doing my job. Yet if I go to Spain, I lose us, you'll be convinced that Blaise has won whatever war you two are fighting. Ian, I don't think you're being fair, at all."

"I love you, Liebe," Ian spoke softly, as he came up behind her and gently gripped her arms, "can't you see that? I just don't want to lose you."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip before she turned to him and said, "I love you, like you couldn't imagine, Walter Ian Knight IV. So, why don't you take a few more weeks off from St. Mungo's and come to Spain with me?"


"Is Spain going to be my last appearance, Mr. Zabini?" Victoria asked, her southern accent very apparent, as she walked out onto the Penthouse balcony that had a perfect view of the Pacific Ocean ahead of it and the Andes Mountains behind it.

"Good morning, Victoria," Blaise replied, his voice monotone, as he reached out his leg to kick the chair across from him away from the table, "have a seat."

She rose her eyebrow at his action but sat down anyway. "Good morning, I just heard about the Supreme Mugwump holding proceedings in Spain."

"I'm sure," he replied, as he took another sip from the liquor in his glass, "I slept in while the ICW took the spotlight today. I wasn't surprised when I received the Owl about it. I'm just surprised that you'd know what was next."

"I'm not an ignorant child, Blaise," she snapped, while trying to direct her billowing blond hair away from the steady wind.

Blaise chuckled, holding his glass up as he stared longingly out into the sea. "I never implied that you were."

Victoria stiffened in the blatant abandon in his tone and wondered how much liquor had he nursed that morning. "I'd appreciate it if you would answer my question."

"What?" he asked, his eyebrows crinkling in mock confusion. "Did you ask if you were an ignorant child?"

"Blaise!" she snapped, fumes practically steaming from her ears. She had, had another sleepless night and he was testing what patience she had left.

Blaise chuckled, as he turned back toward his view, replying, "Your time in my employment is coming to a swift close, Spain will be our grand finale."

"Employment?" she gasped. " You make me sound as some whore who has diligently served you for an allotted time, determined by you of course! To that implication I take great offense, I will not stand here and allow you to insult me in that way!"

"You should take great offense to the insult that you have committed against yourself, Victoria," Blaise retorted calmly, rolling his eyes at the anger that was steaming from the blond.

"I have taken great offense to all my mistakes, Blaise," Victoria growled, as she rose from her seat, while taking great pains not to reach out and strangle him, "but I refuse to pay penance for your sins."

"No one asked you to," he replied, turning his neck slightly to look upon her before she walked out back into the room.

"No one asked me too?" she said, in disbelief, her voice moments from a yell. "Do you realize how they all look at me? Hermione, Lavender, your entire cabinet, and soon to be the entire world? All they will see is the American whore who manipulated you into her bed all for the sake of power!"

Blaise sat up quickly the moment she began to yell, her voice trembling with emotion that he had forgotten that she was capable of feeling. "Victoria --"

"No!" she declared, tears lining her blue eyes, the glare almost blinding with the heat of the early morning. "You will not get away with this deception! My grandmother always said: if you knock on the Devil's door long enough he will answer you. And, God help me, he answered you Mr. Zabini, he answered you! You asked for every thing that happened, you asked for all of this, for nothing corrupts a man so much as absolute power!"

He chuckled darkly, rising quickly to return her attack with equal venom. "You dare talk of deception, Victoria? Need I remind you that you, my darling, were guilty of deceiving me the moment you seduced me into your bed!"

Victoria smirked at his reply, her blond hair blowing behind her with the morning breeze, yet the breeze did nothing for her anger. This explosion was something that had just lain dormant inside her until the right fuel came to spark it to life and Blaise's words had been just the spark it needed. "Need I remind you, Blaise, that the only way that seduction can be successful is if one is willing to give into temptation. And I'm sure that I don't have to remind you that you enjoyed my seduction for five months before Hermione even had a clue! Oh and lets not get into deception there because you weren't even man enough to tell her the truth, Blaise, she had to find us together! So who is the master of deception, Blaise, who?"

"I did not deceive her," he growled, turning from her as he took a long gulp from his glass.

"Then what do you call this entire act? What?" she replied, her yell down to a more rigidly calm commanding tone. "What has the past three years been, Blaise? Certainly not the truth."

"You act as if in these past three years that I have felt nothing for you," Blaise replied, sitting his glass on the table as he again faced the blond. "That is a gross misinterpretation of this difficult situation!"

"I was just a plaything to pass the time with until the woman you really cared about could forgive your transgressions," Victoria answered, her voice almost in a whisper, as she averted her eyes to the brilliant skyline. "I know you don't think that I could be capable of loving anyone other than myself but I am and I have."

"Victoria --" Blaise began, as he slowly approached her yet she interrupted him before he could even began.

"Don't," she snapped, stopping him with her palm before he could get any closer, "your apologies make me queasy."

Even though she had halted him for a moment he continued to approach and was just inches from her when she reached out and grasped his hand. She placed it on her chest just as a solemn tear made its way down her cheek and onto his hand, as she whispered, "This is my heart and it's broken. Can you feel it?"

"Oh," Blaise groaned, his chest physically tightening, his own despair deepening, "Victoria, I never meant -- "

"Stop!" she moaned, loudly, interrupting him. "Your apologies mean nothing, Blaise! You say you never meant for anyone to get hurt but people will be left hurt no matter how this pans out and it's all on you. You could have prevented this whole fiasco, yet, you chose to live it. At this very moment, your apologies mean nothing to me nor to Hermione nor to Ian."

"I don't hold any power as to how they end up," he said softly, reaching up to wipe the tears off her cheeks. "I only know how we will end."

"I told you earlier nothing corrupts a man so much as absolute power and, Blaise, you hold all the power in the matter on how they will end up," Victoria replied, backing away from the consuming feeling of his skin. "In fact, you hold all of the power in this entire situation."


"Oh," sighed the white-haired beauty, as she gazed out the large windows from the dining hall, "what a gorgeous country this is!"

"You should see it at sunrise," Hermione said with a smile, as Ian guided her, with his hand on the small of her back, to the table where his parents sat.

Liesel andWalter Ian Knight III were a handsome couple -- physically financially, and socially -- who were considered little less than wizarding royalty in both England and Germany. Liesel van Gutenberg had been born into the pureblood family who were direct descendants to the last throne that had reigned in Germany. She was only fifty-years old but was quickly losing the cornflower hue in her hair; yet, the stately woman was a huge humanitarian and, never the selfish one, believed she owed it to her country to share her family's wealth and influence. Ian was her pride and joy, her oldest son, who was born on her family's estate twenty-seven years ago, she was always one to look in on his well being.

And Walter Ian Knight III was from a long line of British purebloods who had owned St. Mungo's Hospital -- and all her predecessors -- since before Hogwarts founding. Walter was an older man, quickly approaching seventy, yet appearing as lively and as charming as his twenty-three-year-old son. He had been the driving force in his heir's life and took great pride in all of Ian's successes, unlike many of his peers, he had been determined to be a good father to all of his children. His business mind was one of his most famous attributes, during his younger years he had taken control of a big chunk of the Wizard Market and won. Walter Knight, at the tender age of sixty-five, had secured a fortune for his family that many other exceedingly wealthy purebred families could barely contend with.

"I'm sure it's lovely," Liesel exclaimed, as she pulled Hermione into a hug before they were all seated at the table.

"Apparently," began Walter, with a smirk, "you've been doing a great job out here, Miss Granger."

"Why do you say that, sir?" Hermione asked, as she placed the creme-colored napkin in her lap as a waiter sat a small salad in front of her.

"Well, the traffic into the hospital from this part of the world has decreased, immensely, since this time in March," he replied, with an acknowledging nod as the waiter placed a small salad in front him, as well.

"Well," she sighed, chancing a glance at Ian before she continued, "we are trying to do the best job that we can. There would be no use in coming all this way to do the job halfway."

"Oh," cut in Liesel, her accent more faint than her daughter's, before he husband could reply, "let's not talk business at Lunch! It's just so nice to see you two lovebirds together, again. You know, everyday I look at the paper and, Hermione, all I see is you and the Minister or you and some of his cabinet members! It's nice to see you with the man you love."

Ian took a long gulp from his glass, raising his eyebrow at his drink, before he said, "She works hard, mother, those men have just become a part of her daily life."

Liesel laughed softly at her son's words as she lay a hand on top of Hermione's, saying, "Don't allow your job to remove you too far from your personal life. That is how Cecania almost missed the love of her life, Hans, with her quest in the world of law and the man that world made available to her. She thought she would marry that Thor but Hans was always it for her and she couldn't deny it, she gave up law for him."

Hermione attempted to hide her frown, if Liesel had known more of their current situation she would have kept that to herself. Because Thor was Ian in her life, her job had shoved him down her throat, but Hans was Blaise. And now Hans and Cecania were a happy couple with a six-year-old son and rumors swirling that they were trying for a second. What could she say? "My job is on a whole different priority list than my personal life, Mrs. Knight."

"Good," chimed Walter Knight, before rambling off his order for lunch to the waiter, "it's nice to know how devoted you are to our son."

"Devoted," mumbled Ian, before he gave his order, "what a great word choice."

Hermione glared at him before turning back to his parents, who had appeared to have missed his comment, asking, "How long will you two be in South America?"

"We actually just came down to Bolivia to see Alfons while he was here before we went on our annual summer trip to Sri Lanka. I just couldn't bear the thought of not seeing my only grandson until September so we decided to come visit and then we said: well, Hermione and Ian are in Chile so why don't we make a quick visit there before we leave. So here we are! Come to think of it, I think we leave this evening," Liesel replied, her voice full of cheer and optimism, in her usual manner of telling more than she was originally asked.

Alfons was Cecania and Hans' six-year-old son and he was the most beloved and pampered grandchild in all of Germany and seemingly Britian as well. Liesel only had two grandchildren, her youngest son Karl had a year-old-daughter, but with her behavior sometimes one would think that she had a hoard of them. "I do hope he is enjoying this trip, honestly I don't know why Cecania would allow to bring her son into such a tumultuous country."

"Oh, you know how she can't bear to be away from him for a long time. I do believe he's perfectly safe, his nanny and governess are both here and Hans has hired men to guard them especially," she replied as the waiter brought in her lunch and sat it in front of her.

"Son," Walter said, looking away from the women who were still carrying on their conversation, "you mother and I do leave for Sri Lanka in a few days. When do you think you'll be able to go back to England and take care of hospital business for me?"

"Father," Ian replied, looking down at his plate before looking back into the brown eyes of his family's patriarch, "I'll have to handle that business abroad for a few weeks because I've decided to accompany Hermione to Spain for the trials and the final preparations for the peacekeeping process here."

Walter frowned, quirking his head to the side before asking, in a soft voice, "Is everything going well, son?"

Ian nodded, dejectedly. "As could be expected but I'm just trying to remember that anything worth having is worth working hard for."


She sat quietly, watching the waves crash up against the rocks on the shore and wondering just how much effort would it take to be washed away. Her life had become much too complicated much too quickly, things she had believed to be forgotten had been recovered much too easily. The sounds of the water's constant motion led her to sigh as she dug her bare feet deeper into the sand. The stars twinkled mockingly above her as the quarter-moon struggled to light up night sky, their clarity seemed to mock her. It was past midnight and her lack of slumber had led her to allow nature to comfort her, the day's activities had taken a toll on her mental state.

She reached up to take the pins out of her bun, she wanted a sense of normalcy and reaching up with her wand to let down her hair wasn't going to do it, when she felt a familiar touch. She jumped to look about her just as her hair fell and was accosted with the most unexpected sight, unruly brown hair and familiar green eyes. "Harry!"

"Surprise to see you out here," he smiled, as she jumped up and bounded into his arms, hugging him so tight that it was slightly hard to breathe.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed sadly, as she buried her face his neck, "oh, Harry! What are you doing here?"

"I had to come down to oversee the transportation of the prisoners and I was just getting back from a four-hour briefing with the Minister of Justice and decided to take a walk," Harry answered as he gently tried to remove her arms from around his neck.

"You have no idea how wonderful it is to see you," she whispered, letting go of his neck, her eyes lined with tears as she looked up at him.

Harry frowned, it was very rare to see Hermione so emotional so he took on the role that he'd acquired three years ago when Blaise had broken her heart, her comforter. He grabbed her hand and sat next to the spot where she had just been seated, saying, "Come on, sit down and tell me what's going on."

Hermione sat with a dejected sigh, whispering, "My life is falling apart, Harry."

"Who is it? Ian or Blaise?" he asked, knowingly, Ginny had been keeping him posted on the entire situation so he wasn't the least bit surprised that it had only continued to escalate.

"Both," she replied, biting her bottom lip nervously, "I love two men but I have but one heart."

"You may love them both but, Hermione, you can definitely love one more than the other and not realize it. You can't be fated for both but you can love both," Harry said, wisely, squeezing her hand supportively.

"That's just it, Harry," Hermione answered, turning her angst ridden brown eyes to him, "I can't figure out if I love Ian more or Blaise more."

"I really hate that I'm about to say this," he grumbled amiably, "but could it be a sense of obligation keeping you from leaving Ian?"

"I thought of that once, when he had first arrived," she sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest, "we made love and I felt so -- so dirty. I knew I loved him but my heart, my mind, my soul longed for Blaise in every way."

"Your eyes say that the longing wasn't isolated to just that moment," Harry retorted, with another brotherly look of sympathy.

"My eyes aren't lying," Hermione cried, the slight bitterness very apparent in her tone, "I forgave him long ago, Harry, you know that but even now, when I'm deeply involved with another, I can't forget him. I just can't."

"I hate to tell you this, Hermione," Harry whispered, looking out into the whimpering sea, "your heart is and will always be Zabini's."

"Harry," she cried, laying her head on her arms that were folded over her knees, "That is what I'm afraid of."