Title: Truth Is
Chapter: 14
Rating: PG-13
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: The end! Can you believe it? This chapter was slightly anticlimatic for me but I wanted to end it alittle differently. Is it different? I doubt it, I just didn't want ya'll to complain at the corniness of it all . . . I'm EXCELLENT at corny, please be aware. I know the final part is short but I didn't want to ruin it with too many details or wordiness I just wanted the simplicity to speak for itself and allow ya'll to imagine what went on between the two parts as well as after! Plus, I want to leave something for the possible sequel! It's been a great run, more than a year in the making and I want to thank all of you for reading and reviewing (or not)!
Scheiße - Shit (German)
Liebe - Love (German)
Liebling - Darling (German)
erstaunlich - marvelous (German)
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"Truth Is"
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Chapter 14
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(One Week Later: August 1, 2008)
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She stood just a few feet from the immaculately set table in the center of the candle lit room, decorated throughout with Roses and Ivy leaves, her heart pounding faster with every moment she stood there. Ian had spent the entire week preparing for the celebration of their second anniversary and therefore had paid no thought of Hermione becoming more involved with her job in the days since the first court proceeding. He had done all the planning from paying for the private room -- with French doors that opened toward the historic harbor and a breathtaking view of the surrounding mountain range -- to picking out their dress robes for the evening. Ian had to been so wrapped up in planning of their anniversary that he had been totally clueless to the new glint in her eye, the distant tone of her voice. It had been the longest week of her life, she had spent seven days finding every excuse possible to go to bed after him, wake up before him, kiss him on his cheek, and never once find herself laying, wrapped up, in his arms instead of enjoying a nice hot meal for lunch.
It hadn't been a terribly hard feat, Ian seemed to believe that the slight change in their daily routine was simply because her job was becoming more stressful and their anniversary would serve as a catalyst for the neglected passion they shared. Hermione hadn't had any second thoughts, even when she would wake to find his arms clinging to her waist her resolve did not falter, she was determined to return to Blaise. After writing numerous letters to Ginny on the topic she had overcome the fear that ending it on their anniversary was not too callous. It just happen to be the most convenient day for the truth to come to light with time to spare for any needed explanations.
Although she had vowed to return to him she had not once, during the entire week, snuck off to spend an intimate moment with Blaise, a fact she was very proud of. It had been extremely imperative to Hermione -- although Ginny couldn't fathom why -- to stay true to her commitment to Ian as long as she was with him. She saw no reason to cheat on him when she was intending to leave the relationship in just a few days. Yet now that she stood just a few feet from her intended destination she now found it hard to approach the situation, it would not be as easy as she once thought. She watched him raise his wand to adjust a flower arrangement and sighed inwardly, no, this would not be easy at all.
"Are you going to continue to watch me," Ian remarked, his back still facing her as he looked around at the gorgeous room, "or are you going to join me, Miss Granger?"
"I think I'm going to join you," answered, not having to force a smile, as she slowly made her way to the table.
"Good," he smiled, turning to look at her since she first entered the room, his eyes gleaming in appreciation, "you look erstaunlich, Liebe."
Hermione laughed softly, enchanted by the emotion in his eyes, as she sat in front of him. "I guess you approve."
Ian gave an appreciative whistle, and a smile, before leaning over to pour her a glass of wine. "Liebe, approve is not even close."
Hermione suddenly felt nervous, so much so that she could not even muster up an adequate reply, this night was not starting off as she had imagined. He looked at her moment before pouring himself a glass of wine, he frowned a little before sitting the bottle between them. "Would it be a horrid move if I wished you a happy anniversary?"
"No," she sighed, her fingers twisting the cool material of the napkin on her lap and her eyes fighting to keep contact with his, "no, it wouldn't be a bad move. H-Happy anniversary . . . Ian."
"I do believe you have something on your mind, Liebling," Ian remarked, his honey brown eyes dimming in something akin to apprehension.
"I-I-I wouldn't say I have um something on my mind," Hermione stammered, suddenly feeling the need to straighten her back, "so much as something to discuss with you."
A relatively tall house elf entered the beautiful room levitating two sterling silver platters and as quickly as he entered he settled both platters on the table before exiting the room. Hermione smiled gratefully at the little creature before looking back at Ian who had, just moments before, sighed loudly and leaned forward in his seat, as if he were bracing himself for something. "Then . . . it is my duty to listen."
"Oh, how do I begin?" she whispered, with a soft sigh, more to herself than Ian.
"Tell me exactly when you made up your mind," he instructed, picking up his glass and slowly tipping it forward on his lips until the smooth liquid made its way down his throat.
"Ian," Hermione gasped, not at all expecting him to say anything along those lines, "what -- how did you . . .?"
"It's only been little more than two weeks since you basically told me you loved both Blaise and myself. Then, before that, we actually fought for three weeks straight, not including the tension that was visibly thick when we had lunch with my parents, Hermione. Ever since you took this job -- and I'm not blaming it on your job, I'm just explaining -- I've felt the strain on our relationship. So now it's time you say whatever it is that you need to say," Ian answered, before downing the rest of his glass and then reached over to grab the bottle and fill his glass again.
"In the beginning, I had no intention of doing this, Ian, it just happened," she retorted, looking into his eyes and trying to fight that feeling, that guilty feeling that made her hands tremble and her voice tight.
"Sometimes, Liebe, an accident is no accident at all," he whispered, swirling the gold colored liquid around in his glass, watching it silently before looking back up at her, "the deeper you look, the more you find."
"Ian, what are you insinuating?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows lowering as her eyes narrowed. She had not expected this change of attitude in Ian and was not about to sit here and allow him to wallow in it either.
"I'm not insinuating anything, I am saying look at the facts, Hermione. Britain's Minister was thrown into this International crisis and he just had to have you -- the ex-girlfriend he so ruthlessly hurt -- work with him, in South America of all places! Then, as time goes on, you are just pulled deeper and deeper into your work and Victoria Carrington eventually leaves him, it's just too perfect. Somehow I doubt all this is just some small Italian coincidence," Ian said his voice low and dangerous, raising an eyebrow before he lifted the glass to his lips again.
Hermione glared at him. "And I'm feeling a lot of German bitterness! You knew when we got together that I had a long and complicated past and it is a fact that sometimes the past will come back to bite us."
"Scheiße!" he swore, loudly as he placed his glass back on his table with a silent glare. "Your past seems to only be biting me!"
"Do not swear at me, Ian," she replied, tensely, biting off every word as she shot daggers at his handsome head.
Ian said nothing for a few moments, allowing his eyes to linger over her glowing face and finally allowed his pain to settle. He lowered his head, fixing his eyes on the silver platter in front of him, before saying, "Why didn't you do this before, Li--Hermione?"
Hermione bit her lip, breathing in deeply through her nose, she gazed out the French doors silently, weighing her words carefully. "I guess I always knew it would it be this hard."
"He doesn't deserve you," Ian whispered, his fingers slowly wrapping themselves along the flute.
She sent him a sad smile. "Blaise has done something's that he regrets but he's only human, we all do things that we regret."
"Is this -- us, our relationship -- something that you will regret one day?" he asked, his softened eyes making their way to her flushed countenance.
"No," Hermione whispered, her lithe fingers making their ways to her full lips, "I always meant it when I said I love you."
"So what is this? Now you don't love me anymore?" Ian retorted, the pain in his eyes reminding her of the sight she saw every morning for months after Blaise and she broke up.
"It's not that -- not at all -- I still love you but I could never marry you with my heart still crying out his name. I do not want you to play second best and then make you miserable because I am denying myself the love that I want so badly to partake in," she answered, honestly, her eyes begging him to understand.
Ian reached across the table to take hold of hers, he held it firmly for a few moments before speaking, his eyes taking hold of hers once more. "No matter what happens I will never know anyone better or sweeter than you. Liebe, you are my dream."
"Ian --" she whispered, chills running up her spine as she searched for the right words to say, sighing softly when she found none.
"No," he whispered, his thumb running soft, slow, races across the palm of her hand, "I don't want you reply to that, I just want you to know, no matter what, I still love you."
"Ian," Hermione spoke gently, her dark brown eyes lined with unshed tears, "things won't always feel like this . . . you won't always have to love me."
"I don't have to love you, Liebling," Ian remarked, a sad smirk settling upon his lips, his eyes dancing from their hands to her lips and back to her eyes, "I choose to."
"Do you understand that I love Blaise the way you love me?" she asked, feeling the weight of his hand lessen the moment she spoke those words.
Ian chuckled, shaking his head, the smirk sliding from his lips as he replied, "I don't understand it -- I don't think that I ever will -- but I get it, I honestly get it."
"Ian --" Hermione began but was quickly interrupted by the handsome German.
"May I ask you a question?" he asked quickly, pulling his hand away from hers as he spoke.
"Of course," she answered, her voice soft and slightly unsure, she glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered when this complicated night would be over.
"What is it about . . . your past that makes it so much better that what we shared?" Ian posed his question while twirling his thin wand around his lithe fingers.
Hermione sighed, as she sat up in her seat, pushed her thick hair from her face and sought for the best words to say. She ran her fingers through her hair before she began to speak, "I wouldn't say that it was better . . . honestly, I love him with so much of my heart that none is left to protest. I know he hurt me and you were there to heal that hurt and in the process we fell in love; yet, I fear my love was only taking advantage of you."
"You never took advantage of me," he whispered, picking up his glass and tilted it slowly toward his lips.
"I'm still not so sure of that," she whispered, giving him a short smile, "but I could never forget that Blaise was good, strong, and ultimately, the first man I ever really loved. No matter how angry I was at him or how deeply I felt for you I could never entirely forget how wonderful and special ours years together were. And for that I am deeply sorry that I drug you along for the ride."
"Don't apologize," he replied, his eyes meaning every word, "it was my pleasure, Lie -- Hermione."
"Thank you for always being there," Hermione said, her fingers reaching out to meet his and when they met, he smiled for the first time that evening.
His fingers felt their way across the soft corners of her hand, as he replied, his voice deep and somber, "Just remember that I will always be there, if it's five years or fifty, if you need me, I'll be there."
Hermione smiled as she pulled her fingers from his intoxicating touch, picked up her wand, and replied, "I should go."
They both stood as the finality of her words bounced off the walls around them. She stood stoically next to her chair as Ian made his way to her side, his hand reaching out to grab hers. He fingered the ring that still resided on her left hand, whispering, "Keep it."
"No, I should --" Hermione began, as she attempted the retrieve the ring from her finger she was quickly halted when his lips caught hers. He slowly massaged her lips with his before pulling away and laying his forehead against hers. She breathed deeply, trying to even out her breaths, while her hands clung to his elbows allowing her to remain standing.
Ian's hands cupped her hips and he struggled not to pull her to him. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to fight the memories, they hadn't had a kiss like that in almost three years and he yearned to return to those days but it was impossible. That kiss was the end. Ian released his hold on her body and quickly picked up his glass and made his way to the French doors, inhaling the crisp night air. "You should go."
Hermione took a deep breath and headed for the door, stopping only to say, "Ian, sweet things are even sweeter when you also live with some sour."
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Hermione stood on the balcony her hands laying upon the strong brown fingers of Blaise Zabini. Blaise stood contentedly behind her, his arms wrapped around her and his cheek laying upon her gentle mass of hair. Their eyes were both fixed on the harbor that was flanked by mountain ranges, their thoughts drifting off to similar places. It hadn't taken Hermione any time to find herself at Blaise's door and it had only taken a moment for him to welcome her in with open arms. Their lips had meet for mere seconds as their hearts began to reunite, he smiled, she laughed, he chuckled, she blushed, and the world began to revolve again.
Blaise took a deep breath, tightening his hold on her as he whispered, "I never thought that I would get to live this day."
"Life is truly amazing," Hermione replied, strands of her hair blowing away from her face as the soft breeze caught hold of them, "it's the one thing you cannot predict."
"I beg to differ, Miss Granger," he chuckled, his voice gentle voice meeting her ear, "there is one thing that I will always know: you will always be a good Gryffindor girl."
"And will you always be a good Slytherin boy?" she asked, her eyes closing as she leaned in to his embrace.
"I never was," Blaise replied softly, before kissing her gently on the forehead, the honesty in his words landing like a cushion on their thoughts.
"Blaise," Hermione began, her fingers tangling themselves with his, "I'm so glad that our absolution has come, I was fearful that we would wait our whole lives and never see it."
Suddenly he turned her toward him, forcing her hair to whip around her head, as it fought with the breeze, leaving her looking more like an angel than a woman. Their faces were mere inches from each other as Blaise spoke, "I would not have allowed my whole life pass by without attempting to reconcile, I would not have rested in the after life if I didn't try."
Hermione was serious for a moment, the sincerity of his words sinking in before she suddenly leaned her head to one side and asked, "How do you know how you would have rested? It's entirely impossible to say with any authority what you would have done --"
"Hermione," Blaise exclaimed, interrupting her cute comment that quickly turning into a tirade, "I'm pouring my heart out here!"
"I know, I know," Hermione whispered, a sly smile lifting her lips before she cupped the back of his neck and shut him up by kissing him gently, "and truth is I love you too, Blaise Zabini."
