Blaise was tired of the endless days of balls, musicales, dances, routs, assemblies, picnics, and visits to the opera that Jacqueline and Ophelia insisted that he attend. He hated the season.
It got to a level that he began to think slamming his head into a stone wall would be preferable.
He had always been able to avoid the season, mostly because his family was a bit off color, and also because he pretended to be boorish and rude. Anything that would keep the matchmaking mother's from even thinking to send him an invite.
With his engagement to Jacqueline, he kissed all of his valuable silence away, but at least he didn't have to dodge the chits intent on marrying into his fortune. Since Jacqueline was an heiress, and engaged to him, it seemed that his very unfashionable family history no longer mattered.
Ophelia, of course, basked in the glow of attention. She loved that the haughty bitches that had never before deigned to acknowledge her, now bent over backwards to please her, their faces bright with false smiles. So what if she had slept with some of their husbands? Or even caused a divorce and married at least one of them. Ophelia reasoned that they should all be over that by now. She loved having a rich soon-to-be daughter-in-law.
Blaise yawned, trying his best to keep from falling asleep. He was currently sitting in a balcony seat at the Minerva Ballet Theater. The place was huge, with scarlet drapes and gilded gold moldings. The Forsberg's, of course, had their own private balcony seats situated in a prime spot. It was all see and be seen. The ballet Swan Lake was being performed. It seemed that tragic romance followed him everywhere.
Normally, Blaise liked ballet, but his company left much to be desired. Jacqueline sat to his left preening at the admiring glances being thrown their way. She wore a strapless red silk chiffon dress, with her trademark sweetheart neckline. It had a ruched bodice and was floor length. The red spike heels that she wore with it looked deadly. Her blonde hair was twined into a low sleek bun.
She grasped his hand. "Blaise, isn't this simply wonderful? Oh, 'ow I love the ballet!"
Blaise pasted an artificial smile on his face. "Yes, it's wonderful," he said blandly, jumping when his mother kicked his shin. No one else seemed to notice. Blaise resisted the urge to rub away the sting of those pointed heels his mother wore.
Ophelia wore an asymmetrical, one shoulder, floor length gown, in black, a departure from her usual purple. "Get it together. I won't have you ruining this for me," she said hissed quietly enough for only Blaise to hear then turning to smile at Bernard.
Blaise suffered through the next hour, standing as soon as the curtains closed. "If you will excuse me, I have a rather pressing engagement that I need to attend," he said bowing before darting out of the box.
It was pressing, if you thought dragging Draco to a bar was an urgent matter.
"I think I'm going to do it, mate. Break it off I mean," Blaise said, downing a beer and grimacing at the taste. He hated beer, but since Draco was buying he thought it rude to protest. That and the fact that he had dragged the man away from his fiancée.
Draco clapped him on the back. "Good for you, my friend. Are you going to go look for your mysterious lady?"
Blaise pondered whether or not to tell Draco about Hermione for a minute. "Draco, if I tell you who she is you have to promise not to lose your shit."
Intrigued, Draco leaned forward. Downing his beer and calling for another he said, "I'm ready."
"It's Hermione," Blaise said.
Draco choked on his beer. "Hermione Granger," he wheezed, trying to draw in a clear breath.
"Yeah, Hermione Granger," Blaise said in a slightly dangerous tone.
Draco raised his hands, palm up. "Hey, mate, I'm not going to say anything against her."
Blaise raised a brow. "You aren't?"
"No, I figure...well...she helped Potter stay alive during the war. Without her man, my family would still be in Hell. You know Potter wouldn't have been able to survive without the girl. And besides, if you feel half of what I feel for Astoria for her, then who am I to say you shouldn't," Draco said, looking at Blaise considerately. "Why did it take you so long?"
"There is just a lot of shit going on, mate. I have to go and see her. I can't stand that I hurt her like I did," Blaise said.
"You? Hurt a woman? You are going to have to tell me all of this," Draco said.
"It is kind of a long story," Blaise said.
"I've got nothing but time, and you kind of owe me after dragging me from Astoria's very warm embrace," Draco replied.
Blaise told Draco everything, except for the bit about owning Prospero. That he wanted to tell Hermione first. He just told Draco that Ophelia had something on him, that she was blackmailing him into marriage.
Draco spit out his beer. "What? Now, I don't want to say anything against your mother but...that is just sick. How could she do something like that?"
"Mother has issues. My mother and I have never liked each other but...she is still my mother. I want to come up with a way to get out of this without hurting her more than I have to, but I can't do it anymore. Not hurting her or Jacqueline is hurting me instead. And Hermione. This was okay, well not exactly okay, but bearable when it was just me. Now that Hermione is involved...it has to end," Blaise said. Blaise hoped that she still loved him, that they still had a chance. Even if they didn't, she still deserved the truth, and he would let her go. No matter how much it would hurt: or how broken he would be.
"Well, you didn't know that you two had shagged before right? I mean when you started to spend time together," Draco said bluntly.
"That doesn't excuse it. Deep down I had to have known. I spent so much time with her, way more than I'd ever spent with Jacqueline, until recently that is," Blaise said with a grimace. "I can only tell you basic things about Jacqueline, but with Hermione it's different. I know that her favorite color is blue, that she is grumpy at night when she gets tired, that she once had a pet mouse called Georgette. I could go on and on."
"You've got it bad," Draco said with a grin. "Question is...Do you know where she is?"
"No, but I think I know who does," Blaise said grimly.
There wasn't a place that Blaise least liked to visit more than the Ministry of Magic, but he thought it might be the only place where he would catch Harry Potter.
It was a stroke of luck when he saw Ginny Weasley instead, leaving the building. She must have been just visiting her brother or Harry in the Auror offices.
"Ginny!" Blaise called, running a bit to catch up with her. Damn, the witch walked fast.
Ginny stopped, her head whipping around and her eyes narrowing when she saw who it was. "What do you bloody want?"
Blaise had expected her attitude, but he was determined not to let it bother him. "I need to know where Hermione is."
"You have a lot of fucking nerve! Isn't it enough that she had to go all the way to Brisbane to get away from even the memory of you? Just leave her alone!" Ginny said angrily.
"So she is in Australia?" Blaise said, watching the witch's eyes widen and her hand clap over her mouth. Well, that was easy, Blaise thought.
Blaise turned to leave, freezing at Ginny's shouted, "Stop!"
He turned to find the witch's wand trained squarely on him. Wizards and witches walking around them paused to stare.
"You are causing a scene," Blaise said quietly, making no move to draw his own wand.
"I don't give a fuck! I'm not going to let you hurt my friend again. Now, I fucked up telling you where she is, but I'll be damned if I let you go," Ginny said.
Blaised raised his hands, palms outward, tensing a bit when Ginny's wand arm stiffened. "Ginny, I have no intention of hurting Hermione."
"What do you want with her?" Ginny said, lowering her wand just a touch.
"There are some things that I need to explain to her. Things that she should hear first, but I swear on my father's grave that I don't mean her any harm. Please, believe me when I tell you this," Blaise said.
Ginny lowered her wand the rest of the way, and the onlookers, seeing that nothing was going to happen thankfully went on about their business.
Ginny sighed. "Okay. I think I'm losing my good sense, but I think that I do believe you. You can find her in a small coffee shop called Brava Java, in Hecate Village. No, I'm not telling you her home address. She can give that to you if she so decides. One thing though, if you are lying, I'll personally come, in the dead of night if I have to, and remove your reason for calling yourself a man." With that pronouncement, the witch turned sharply and walked away.
Blaise looked on, dumbfounded for a full thirty seconds, before he snapped into action. It seemed that a trip to Australia was in order, and he wasn't going to waste any more time.