Blaise woke at eight thirty that morning with a headache. The very same headache that he had when he went to sleep. He had slept like the dead and felt the ache in his body. He probably hadn't moved at all while sleeping. It usually happened to him while sleeping in a strange bed. He had been visiting the chateau for months and still wasn't used to the bed. It was just too damn soft, and the bloody thing was huge. Orgy sized.
He rose from the bed, running a hand through his short curls. It was about time for a haircut. He would cut it as short as possible, but girls tended to like the curls, and he wasn't one to turn down a beautiful woman wanting to run her fingers through his hair.
What he really wanted was his own flat in town, but Bernard wouldn't hear of it and Jacqueline was more than happy to have her fiancé close.
Ophelia was ecstatic with the situation even going as far as saying, "Why don't you just knock the girl up? That would end her silly little debutante sensibilities. You could get married immediately and I would be out of your hair that much sooner."
Blaise had curled his lip in disgust. "As much as it would delight me to have you "out of my hair" as you say, I'm not going to knock Jacqueline up. This isn't nineteen fifty. There are spells against pregnancy. You might be in control now, but you don't get to control when I shag."
Shaking off the memory, Blaise headed to his adjoining bathroom. The hot water would help to remove the lingering muzziness from sleep. He adjusted the water to his preferred temperature, pulled off his grey boxer briefs, and stepped under the hot spray.
Leaning his head against the slowly warming tile, Blaise contemplated Hermione's strange behavior from the night before.
Blaise's group of friends in school hadn't treated the witch or her friends kindly, but Blaise himself couldn't remember an instance where he himself had been blatantly unkind. Mostly, he remembered being indifferent to the witch. Well, as indifferent as he could be to one of the best friends of the boy who lived. Being young, he was sure that he had said some off color things in jest, or because he thought that it was what he should say, but surely she didn't hold that against him.
Looking back on her reaction from last night, it seemed that he had an effect on the little witch. One that if he wasn't "engaged", he might like to pursue.
Blaise wasn't conceited, but he knew that he was handsome. Women had always come easily to him. He could even remember his mother's friends giving him the eye starting at age fifteen. He had always been a tall boy and very physically active, so he had looked more mature than your average fifteen year old. Not to mention, even though it wasn't known, that he was already a millionaire at that age. Many of his mother's jaded friends had made passes at him as soon as Ophelia turned her back. One particularly bold woman had lain in his bed wearing only a purple silk thong. That situation had taken some delicate maneuvering. He had never taken any of them up on the offers. Anyone who was a friend of his mother wasn't anyone that he would want to shag.
And he had been shagging by then.
The summer of his fifteenth year, he had met a delightful eighteen year old Muggle in Venice. She'd had beautiful golden brown hair, and luminous green eyes. She hadn't minded that he was younger, not that he had mentioned the fact to her. They had traded smiles for over a week, before she finally made a pass at him.
Blaise had been too shy to make a move on her, regardless of her signals. At fifteen, he had snogged many girls, but hadn't gone all the way. She had to have known he was a virgin, and one day she had finally just hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
They made love for the first time in the back of the small flower shop where she worked. Looking back, he fancied that he had been a little bit in love with the beautiful Muggle. They spent an entire glorious summer together before she left for university. Despite their promises to keep in touch, he never saw her again.
Returning to school sexually aware, he and let Draco and the others assume that he had lost it to an older experienced witch instead of a green-eyed Muggle named Sofia.
Thinking of Sofia brought the memory of his brief encounter with Jeanette to mind with the inevitable result.
Sighing in frustration, he grasped his cock he stroked himself to a stunning climax, groaning out Jeanette's name into the steaming shower.
When he Apparated into the small dining room, he was surprised that only Hermione was eating breakfast. She was dressed much the same as he was in jeans, boots, and a black shirt, though hers was long sleeved.
Looking up at him with her big chocolate eyes she said, "Jacqueline is sick this morning. A flu she thinks. Monsieur Forsberg is going to be away on business for the next week. Something about his textile plant I believe."
"Oh," was all he said in response before sitting down and helping himself to eggs, bacon, and toast on which he spread a healthy amount of orange marmalade.
Hermione was nibbling on a piece of toast herself and drinking a glass of orange juice, a newspaper in her left hand.
Blaise, not being one to beat around the bush asked bluntly, "Is is going to be a problem for you? My being here?"
Hermione almost choked on her toast. She lowered her newspaper and grabbed her glass, chugging her juice. "What?" She said weakly. "I mean, why would it be?" she asked after clearing her throat.
Blaise raised one dark brow. "I assume it must have something to do with my friendship with Draco; or the fact that I was in Slytherin?"
Hermione scoffed. "School is over, and I don't spend my time thinking about Draco Malfoy."
He was puzzled. "Then we should get along well I suppose. We are going to be around each other for the next two months I'm told."
"Yes, two full months," Hermione said in a deadpan voice.
Blaise smirked. "Don't sound too pleased about the prospect. Do you mind if I call you Hermione? Calling you Miss Granger for two months is going to get pretty old. You can call me Blaise if you like."
"Of course you can," Hermione said smiling at him for the first time.
Standing, she asked, "Are you ready to get these horseback lessons going?"
Blaise spooned his eggs and last piece of bacon onto his toast. Folding the lot, he shoved it into his mouth. Talking around the food, he said, "Let's go."
Hermione rolled her eyes. Men. They were the same everywhere.
The Forberg's had an excellent stable. The outside was made of light colored limestone bricks, and while quite a bit newer than the chateau, managed to fit with the surrounding architecture. The inside was well-ventilated and warm with large high quality loose boxes. There was a team of human workers, squibs of course, that cared for the horses. There was also a full time veterinarian, Charles Martin, who was always on call in case of emergency. He had a well maintained clinic just a short walk from the stable.
Blaise thought so well of the stables that he had brought his favorite horse, a smoky black Thoroughbred stallion, named Hyperion to be stabled while he was in residence.
Blaise directed Hermione toward a gentle Arabian mare called Kizi. As soon as Hermione's eyes fell on the pretty bay horse, Blaise knew that the two would be fast friends.
Blaise stepped forward to help the witch ready the horse to ride, and was surprised when she brushed him off and started to tack up the horse herself. He smirked in amusement; seemed that the witch had forgotten that she said that she couldn't ride horses. Hmmm, perhaps I should call her on her lie, Blaise thought to himself, but dismissed the prospect. He didn't want the witch to dislike him, as least not any more than she already did or had.
He decided not to probe himself for the reasoning behind why he didn't want her to dislike him. Instead, he turned to his own horse.
"Hello, my boy," he spoke quietly to Hyperion. The spirited horse nickered a welcome.
Hermione looked away from her own horse at the sound. Blaise was speaking quietly to his horse. The two were obviously familiar. The affection was evident.
It wasn't until she watched Blaise saddle his own horse that she remembered her stupidity. She could have slapped herself in the forehead in irritation. She wasn't supposed to know anything about horses.
Her lips thinned in displeasure. Why hadn't he said something?
Hermione's head tilted in contemplation, before she turned to finish saddling her horse. Perhaps he wasn't as much of a prat as she had thought. A few years ago, he probably would have jumped on the chance to call her on her lie.
What was different now?
She sighed. It was so tiring to pretend that everything was the same. At least he doesn't know me well enough to judge my behavior, she thought to herself.
Blaise had her tied up in knots. She couldn't figure him out and it frustrated her to no end. Hermione liked a good puzzle, but this was ridiculous.
What a tangled web, she thought.
"Are you ready?" Blaise's deep voice startled her from her reverie.
Nodding, she grasped her horse's reins and led the mare from the stables, Blaise following her quietly.
"So where do you usually ride?" She asked after they had mounted.
Blaise nudged Hyperion from a walk into a trot. "Well, Jacqueline prefers to ride through the countryside on the estate, but I like riding by the sea. The air seems cleaner there, especially in the morning."
Hermione smiled. "Let's ride by the sea then."
"Are you sure? It's a bit more rigorous than the country trail. I know that you are a first time rider," he said with a grin.
She had to giggle. "Okay, I guess I'm caught. I do know how to ride. I haven't placed in shows or anything like Jacqueline, but I'm a fair horsewoman."
Blaise liked her smile. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything. I figure that your reasons are your own, but I admit it's nice just to ride with you and not to instruct."
Hermione arched a brow, bemused. How very un-Slytherin of him to admit that, she thought.
The riding trail by the sea was beautiful, even if looking over the cliff did give one a vague sense of vertigo. The air did seem clearer. Taking in a deep breath, Hermione admitted to herself that it was probably just what she had needed.
She liked that Blaise didn't feel the need to fill the air with idle chatter. When she was able to not think of what had happened between them, his presence was actually comfortable.
They had been riding for about forty-five minutes before his voice broke through her thoughts. "Are you hungry? I feel like I could eat that boulder over there." He asked pointing toward a large boulder on the side of the trail. The thing looked like it weighed a ton, and Hermione giggled in spite of herself.
"Yeah, I think I could eat a little something."
Blaise smiled. "Great, I know just the place."
She thought that he would take her to some fancy brunch buffet in a pricey hotel, but was surprised when they tied up their horses outside of a small hole in the wall building. The outside of the building reminded Hermione of an old weathered saloon, like in one of the Muggle westerns her father was so fond of. She wouldn't have been surprised to hear the sound of spurs ringing against the wooden porch.
He smirked at her reaction. "I know that it doesn't look like much, but trust me, you'll be glad that we stopped here. Don't tell Ansel or any of the other house-elves, but Colette's crepes, makes the chateau's taste like dog food in comparison. The woman has ruined me. Any other crepes simply won't do."
"Then I guess I will just have to order some of these famous crepes," Hermione laughingly replied.
Once inside the small building they were shown to a little round table set with two chairs. The blue tablecloth perfectly matched the equally blue walls. There was white crown molding and snowy white candles inside of clear candle holders. The atmosphere seemed light and airy and was totally unexpected after the surprise of the building's facade.
A perky young red head came up to take their orders. Blaise and the girl talked amicably for a few minutes before he asked, "Hermione would you mind if I ordered for you? I promise that you will like it all. Unless you have any kind of food allergies?"
"No, I don't. Sure you can order for me, since you know the place."
Blaise ordered their food in rapid fire French that Hermione could barely keep up with. It irked her just a bit that he might be a smidgen better than her at the language, but she pushed the emotion away.
After the waitress, whose name was Cleo, came back with their drinks they talked amicably for another ten minutes.
It was the smell of the food that tore Hermione's attention from the conversation.
The crepes smelled heavenly. She could smell the cinnamon wafting in the air.
As soon as the plates were set on the table, she grasped her fork, cutting a bite into the tender crepe. Forking the bite into her mouth, her eyes closed in ecstasy. Mmmm apples, and cinnamon, topped in a delicious vanilla yogurt sauce. A dollop of real whipped cream with the slightest caramel flavor finished the scrumptious combination.
"Oh Merlin, Blaise. I think my mouth just had an orgasm," Hermione said unthinkingly. Her eyes blinked open. Why did I choose that word, she thought.
Thankfully he seemed not to notice, and simply nodded. "I know right? It's just brilliant. Take a bite of that chicken-apple sausage," he added and smiled when she groaned in contentment.
After they finished their brunch, which Blaise insisted that he pay for, they took the long way back to the chateau, chatting the entire time.
There is something about this witch, Blaise thought to himself. She was more than the Gryfindor bookworm of Hogwarts. There was a mystery there, and despite everything that was happening in his life, Blaise was going to make it his business to find out just what that secret was.