Written for Hogwarts Flying Lessons Assignment 5: Prompt used - 11. (location) Gringotts

Seeker: Someone who is not afraid to take risks to get what they want but don't jump into things - they usually think first. They feel that they have the weight of the world and typically run into the problems, but accept help when offered.

WC: 1,760

TWO YEARS LATER

The white marble steps that led to the grand doors of Gringotts Bank looked the same as they had the first time Hermione had ever laid eyes on them: pristine and prestigious. Except while eleven-year-old Hermione had been unable to keep her jaw from falling open at the grand sight, twenty-year-old Hermione Granger scaled up the steps without so much as a second glance at the ornate building.

She was rather in a hurry; she was supposed to meet up with George and Ron at the joke shop in just fifteen minutes. The large bank doors opened at her insistent touch, and Hermione spared a small smile for the plaque that warned thieves and plunderers beware as she rushed past.

The dome of the bank was captured gold light that poured through the windows as Hermione shuffled into line, digging into her bag for her account key. It was busier than normal at Gringotts today, though it was true that Hermione usually went during the weekdays before or after work. The Ministry was closer to Diagon Alley than the flat that she shared with Harry was.

By the time she reached one of the goblins behind the long desk, five minutes had passed and Hermione was beginning to worry that she was going to be late for the meeting - not, as one might suppose, because the Weasleys would be impatient with her if she was, but because they would use her tardiness to their advantage by pranking her. She hastened her pace.

"Hello. Number 8971, please," she said promptly, sliding her key across the counter.

Thin gray fingers picked up the key from the marble top. "Ms. Granger. Long time no see."

Hermione looked up at the goblin who stood behind the desk. Then her mouth dropped in astonishment. "Griphook?"

The goblin smiled thinly. "Yes. It has been awhile, hasn't it? What do you need today?"

"Withdrawal. Harry'll be happy to know that you still work here - we were just discussing you the other day."

"Wizards' gossip about goblins?" Griphook eyed her, then pulled out his own set of keys. "Well, come along."

"Usually another goblin comes to take us," Hermione mused, following after the goblin, who turned to her with his eerie black eyes unblinking.

"Forgive me, Ms. Granger. I only wish to relive the last time I saw you at this bank." His gray lips curled into a sneer that made Hermione remember why she'd never really liked him. "Wizards are fickle figures. The goblin who made Godric Gryffindor's sword could attest to that."

A flush quickly spread across Hermione's face. She darted forward so that she was walking beside Griphook. "That was two years ago. And you know we needed it," she whispered, eyes flicking to check that no one had heard the goblin. "We were going to give it to you after we finished using it, we only needed a little more time -"

"Ah, time. Humans don't understand time as we goblins do." Griphook closed his mouth as another goblin walked past, keys jangling in her hands. "Time leads to memories lost, Ms. Granger. Do you think that your friend Mr. Weasley would have allowed you to remember the sword once it had served its purpose?"

"Of course," Hermione said, stung. "And don't blame Ron for what happened. We needed the sword."

"Obviously not. You succeeded in whatever mission you had anyway, did you not?"

They had reached the tunnel where the tracks started; no carts were available so they stood waiting together, Hermione's frizzy curls and bright eyes a contrast to Griphook's smooth gray robes and skin.

"I do apologize for attempting to deceive you," relented Hermione begrudgingly. "If I'd thought of the basilisk fangs earlier, then we could have given you the sword and you needn't have betrayed us -"

Griphook laughed, a low, raspy sound that made Hermione twitch uncomfortably. "Oh, I would have done it anyway," he said silkily.

The rattle of an approaching cart saved Griphook from having to face Hermione's burst of irritation for him. They stood on the platform, watching the little box carrying a wizard and a goblin dart out of the dark tunnels and come to a stop in front of Griphook's thin hands.

"Pangborn," said Griphook with a nod as the younger goblin slid out. He gestured for Hermione to enter.

As she clambered into the cart, the dark-haired young man inside stood dizzily, though he still extended a steady hand to Hermione. She declined to take it, but looked up and thanked him.

She was halfway into the cart, Griphook lifting a leg to climb in, when the alarms in her head sounded off violently. She whipped around to stare at the young man again. Her lips parted at the sight of him.

He had evidently spun to look back at her too; his body was half-twisted so that he faced her with brown eyes wide in recognition. His short dark hair curled slightly at the ends and seemed dipped in the gold light from the torches to either side of the tunnel.

Hermione's mouth moved to silently say his name. Inside of her, her heart throbbed with sudden memories. She felt as if they had been waiting for this very moment in time to flood her with the smell of parchment and the library, laughing at night five minutes before curfew, meeting up in Hogsmeade.

Blaise.

The cart suddenly tipped forward. Hermione only had seconds to stare at the Slytherin friend from her past before she and Griphook were whizzing down the tunnel, until the form of Blaise Zabini was only a speck in the distance.

Griphook attempted to speak to Hermione extensively on their trip to her vault, and his topics of choice - the Gryffindor sword, Harry, herself, etc. - might have seriously irked her had she been able to listen to him, but as it was, Hermione could hardly pay attention.

They arrived back at the platform within a few minutes. Griphook led her back to the counter, his bottomless eyes observing her emotionlessly.

"Thank you, Griphook," she said absentmindedly, slipping her key back into her bag. "It's been wonderful to see you again."

The goblin pursed his thin lips and nodded, then strutted away without a word. Hermione watched after him for a few seconds before turning to leave the bank. She pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the faint rays of sunlight outside.

Remaining on the top step, Hermione carefully scanned the alley below, squinting at every person who sported dark hair. Her memory raced with the sight of him under the dim light of the Gringotts torches. She wondered why she hadn't said anything - but what would she have said? What would she say if he was still here? Oh, she hoped that he was here somewhere. She wanted to catch up with him, although that might risk appearing overeager -

And then she spotted him.

He was leaning against one of the pillars of the bank, arms crossed casually as he stared down at the bustle below, his dark hair tipped back and a contrast to the white marble behind him. A hand was slipped into his robe pocket; it was a nice robe too, fancy fabric, one that a person of high standing wore because they knew it looked rich - Hermione knew this from working at the Ministry and observing co-workers.

Hermione stepped forward and forced herself to act calm - Merlin, why the heavens was she so nervous? - as she called out, "Zabini."

Blaise turned, pushing himself off of the marble pillar as she walked toward him. The look on his face was shock at first, and then his lips curved into a small smile. She wondered how many times she'd seen that smile but had forgotten it by now; in retrospect, she was certain they had shared many smiles together in the library.

"Granger. It really is you."

Hermione smiled. "What do you mean?"

He tilted his head at her, still grinning. "The Prophet features you at least once a month. But I'm finally seeing you in person. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

"Quite," Hermione agreed. She shifted her bag on her shoulder hesitantly. She'd just remembered something, standing here with Blaise Zabini. She had just remembered a time they had stood exactly like this, facing each other at Albus Dumbledore's funeral and having a very different kind of conversation at the time.

Blinking rapidly, she dispelled the memory, not wanting it to dampen the moment. "How have you been?" she asked hurriedly.

"Well enough. And you? I heard that you recently got accepted into the Department of Law at the Ministry." At her startled look, he winked at her. "Prophet. Remember?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, unfortunately I had no way of keeping tabs on you. What have you been up to?"

The smile spread wider across Blaise's face, and Hermione blinked rapidly and averted her eyes from his handsome grin. "I'm surprised Potter hasn't told you," he said idly.

"Harry?" Hermione peered at him again, in surprise. "What does he have to do with this?"

He dropped another wink at her. "Find out for yourself, Granger. I had to find out about you all by myself."

She blushed, just as the clock in Diagon Alley struck eleven in the morning. With a start, Hermione straightened and muttered to herself, "Damn, I'm late -" Looking at Blaise, she noted the amusement on his face as he watched her. Oh, she really had to get going but she did not want to just leave where she was with Blaise. She didn't want to risk leaving and never being able to actually catch up with him again.

"I have to get going," she said quickly. "But it's been great seeing you. Do you - Would you like to meet up sometime to catch up?"

"Owl me," said Blaise, nodding. "Or, you know, find some reporter to put it in the Prophet next week."

Hermione snorted and turned away, though not before blinking up at him and observing his face that she had quite frankly forgotten to think of for the past two years. Then she put a hand up and waved goodbye, and hurried down the steps across the street to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.

A cloud of magical hair spray and cackles of glee from Ron and George met her immediately upon entering the shop, but Hermione could not help but smile. Seeing Blaise Zabini once more made her feel strangely invigorated. It somehow felt very right.

Hope you guys are excited about this new time setting as I am! :)