Written for Flying Lessons Assignment 4: Write about a serious problem in your pairing's relationship. Prompt: 4. (plot) a funeral

WC: 1,969

The day of Dumbledore's funeral seemed to pass by slowly - but Hermione was glad for that. A few moments during the procession, she caught herself half-wishing it could last longer, because that meant more time to pay respects to a man who deserved it more than anyone.

But as the sun began to set, the funeral was nearing its end now. Several of the students (mostly Slytherins) had already trudged back up to the castle to return to the normalcy of life. Hermione remained with Ron under the shade of a tree to the side of Dumbledore's grave, while Harry was still sitting down at the seats with Hagrid; whether it was the half-giant comforting Harry or the other way around, Hermione couldn't quite tell from this distance.

"It's still hard to believe," Ron said abruptly. He was staring at the ground, one worn black shoe scuffing at the dirt. "I mean, we all just saw him so recently -"

He cut himself off, shaking his head. Hermione placed her hand on his arm and she stared up at his blue eyes. The comforting words that passed between them seemed to rest there, then dissipate as Ron glanced over at Harry and muttered protectively, "Gonna go see if he's okay. Coming?"

Hermione shook her head, not wanting to overwhelm Harry at once. She remained leaning against the tree, her dark robes blocking little of the wind that sailed through the air.

Moments passed, and she didn't know for how long she stood there - just that eventually, Ron returned to their secluded spot, his body providing some warmth as he settled back in his spot next to her. "Is he okay?" she asked anxiously, fingers subconsciously reaching out for his arm.

It was not Ron.

Hermione knew from the second that she touched the person, because Harry and Ron were as familiar to her as her own skin, and she just knew, from the sparks that flew up her fingers. She spun around, mouth opened in an apology, to face none other than Blaise.

He was dressed all black mourning robes that made him look taller and more serious - but that might have been from the cautious look on his face as he eyed her in a way that made her tense up and clamp her mouth shut. As soon as she recovered from her astonishment, she too eyed him and noticed with surprise the bags under his eyes, the way his face looked thinner. She wondered how she hadn't noticed before - but then again, this was the closest they'd been to each other in a month.

"Zabini," she uttered when she trusted her voice wouldn't betray her shock.

"Is who okay?" His voice was effortlessly smooth. "Potter?"

"It's none of your business," she snapped, though her heart felt suddenly heavy. She turned from him defiantly. "Why are you here?"

"I'm attending the funeral."

"And why haven't you gone back to the castle?" she demanded. "The rest of the Slytherins did."

Blaise's eyes flashed. "Would you rather me be one of them?"

Hermione's reply was as quick as a whip. "You already are."

She heard Blaise exhale harshly after her words, and could imagine him watching her with those dark brown eyes that always seemed to get to her the way that no others could; but Hermione had forced herself to stay far, far away from Blaise Zabini for weeks now - she wouldn't abandon her crusade and she would most definitely not do it at Albus Dumbledore's funeral. But as she started to stalk off towards where she could see Harry and Ron sitting together, a hand clamped down on her arm.

"Honestly. Do you know how long it's taken me to finally get to you alone?" There was a hint of desperation in Blaise's tone.

"Save your time," she said coldly, wrenching her arm away.

"Stop avoiding me, Granger!" The words made her halt in her tracks, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from twisting back and glaring up at his handsome and - goddamn him - composed face.

He pushed himself off the tree. "Okay, I get it. This isn't the ideal place to confront you - but I don't have another choice! You always run out of the library when I so much as step in. You've hardly even looked at me in the past month." He grit his teeth. "So tell me, Granger, if you'll speak to me anytime else. Then we will speak then, not now."

She balled her hands into fists, hidden within the folds of her robes as she looked up into the Slytherin's face with understanding and trepidation that she hoped he could not see.

Two days after the Hogsmeade incident, Hermione was making her way to the Great Hall from the Potions dungeons where she had gone to ask Professor Slughorn a quick question about an upcoming assignment. She had just reached the corridor that connected the path to the Potions dungeons to the Slytherin dungeons when a familiar voice echoed down the stone corridor from around the corner.

"So what was Pansy's verdict?"

Hermione hurriedly skidded to a stop and steadied herself against the wall, breath caught in her throat as she listened intently. Blaise's companion replied,

"Draco wouldn't say anything. But he did confirm that the Dark Lord won't be here in person."

"Nothing we didn't know before."

"Nothing you didn't know before, idiot. Not everyone is privy to as much information as you are."

"Greengrass," she heard Blaise hiss. "Not here." She could imagine, as if he were standing right in front of her, his narrowed eyes darting back and forth. She tipped her head backward so that it leaned gently against the wall.

"Everyone's at lunch," Daphne whispered dismissively. "Come on, Blaise. Everyone knows that you've got close connections even if you're not one of them yourself. It's about time you come clean. Is it your mother?"

Blaise muttered, "If you already know, why ask? We can discuss this after lunch."

Their footsteps pattered away as the Slytherins clambered up the steps to the Entrance Hall. Hermione remained where she stood, fingers clasped around her bag handle so tightly that the fabric cut into her skin. She could hardly feel it.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. More students were leaving the funeral for the school, heads bowed as they made way up the pathway. None of them looked toward where she and Blaise stood hidden by the shadows of the tree branches.

She cleared her throat, returning to Blaise. "What in the world would you want to talk to me about?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the reason you've been avoiding me?"

Although Blaise's tone was sarcastic, Hermione could read in his eyes - which she didn't want to look into for more than a few seconds - the genuine question in there.

But she did not know how to explain to his face that she had accidentally heard his conversation with Daphne Greengrass and knew that he was closely affiliated with Death-Eaters. She didn't know how she was supposed to spell out her disappointment in him, not for being related to the Death-Eaters, but for his passiveness.

Blaise crossed his arms impatiently. "I'll help you out. Hogsmeade, maybe? Except you're not a overly dramatic person, Granger, and the fact that you went so far as to make Vector change our seats makes me think there is something else to this."

"I did not ask Professor to change seats!" Hermione said indignantly. Was it her imagination or did Blaise look slightly relieved? "I'm not so petty as to do that."

"Fine. But that's only one aspect of you ignoring me. I know it has to do something with what I said in Hogsmeade." He stepped toward her, voice steely. "It's no secret that I am a Slytherin, Granger. You've never seemed to heed that before. But I mention Death-Eaters once and you go ballistic."

"Because I don't consider being Slytherin the same as being a part of the group that killed Albus Dumbledore," she retorted. And Sirius. And so many other innocent people.

Blaise leaned in, eyes blazing into hers. "I thought I told you. I'm not one of them."

He ran a hand through his hair, which was long enough to sweep across his forehead now - something else she'd failed to notice had changed. "Granger, my ideals are different from theirs. I don't believe in all that they do. You don't understand. Yes, some of them are my closest mates, but I'm never going to be one of them, even if I am a Slytherin. But that doesn't mean that I'll support Potter, either. You should know not to believe in me that much."

He smiled wryly. "It's called being neutral."

She wanted to shake her head at him and say that neutral wasn't enough. She wanted to bite at all his words that she hadn't agreed with. She wanted to ask about his mother - but that meant revealing that she'd overheard him that day, and she wasn't sure that she wanted Blaise to know that she had been listening in.

He kept her gaze while she narrowed her eyes at him, lips pursed as these thoughts ran through her head.

"Neutral." The word escaped from Hermione's lips, quietly but with an air of certainty. She sighed. "I can't force you to do what's right. But at least you're not on their side." She lifted her chin and stared straight at him, her eyes boring into his. "Don't make me regret this, Blaise."

The corner of the Italian's mouth tugged upwards a little. "Oh, Granger. You already do." He shook his head at her innocently before taking a step back, suddenly looking awkward. "Er, does this mean you'll stop avoiding me?"

Hermione frowned, shoulders relaxing. "I wasn't avoiding you. I was busy."

Blaise snorted. "Likely. Well, are you less busy enough to meet in the library tomorrow night? I have some questions for Ancient Runes."

"What about the day after tomorrow? Harry, Ron and I were planning to -"

"Ah. Yes, that'll work," Blaise cut in agreeably. He tilted his head, eyes searching her face, then he opened his mouth hesitantly. "You know," he said quietly, gesturing behind her to Dumbledore's burial site. "I really did like the old geezer."

Hermione felt an inexplicable rush of both sadness and affection as Blaise smiled then turned away to the castle.

"I'll see you the day after tomorrow, Granger," he called over his shoulder, his black robes rippling as he walked away from her.

"Yes. See you."

She paused long enough to watch his form trek away, and then made her way to Ron, Harry, and Hagrid. She didn't look back, not when Ron asked who she'd been talking to, not when she told him firmly that it had been nothing important.

Some part of her knew that something had shifted between her and Blaise, and no matter the fact that they'd be meeting each other soon like normal, an irrevocable gap had already formed between them. It was a barrier unlike anything that had ever been wedged between them before - after all, they had never had the conventional Gryffindor-Slytherin relationship. But Dumbledore's death, and this impending evil created by Voldemort was making it impossible for them to ever really return to "normal".

But some things were just spun by destiny. They were irrevocable, permanent, sometimes heartbreaking. But they happened with the hope that the future had something better in store waiting to come into play at the right moment in the right time.

If the fates had chosen Hermione's brittle relationship with Blaise to be one that had to be broken in order to rejoin… then there was nothing they could do but to bear with it and wait for the future to greet them.

Phew! This one took a while, particularly because the darker mood was hard to wrestle with for me. But not to worry. I guarantee that things will be taking on a brighter perspective… starting from the next chapter (as you might see from the ending of this one)!