Hey guys, I'm sorry that it took so long to update, but I finished my History paper. It was horrible and boring and I hated every second of it, but I did it for you guys. I'm also giving a fair warning that I may be having some dental work done after finals, which I'm dreading because it's that normal procedure that everyone has to go through but I am plagued with this phobia of my teeth falling out or anything happening to them. So this should be an adventure that I do not look forward to, but I'm not going to think about it until absolutely necessary! So please don't mention it! Enjoy the chapter!
"Can anybody find me somebody to love?/ Each morning I get up I die a little/ Can barely stand on my feet/ Take a look in the mirror and cry/ Lord what you're doing to me/ I have spent all my years in believing you/ But I just can't get no relief,/ Lord!/ Somebody, somebody/ Can anybody find me somebody to love?" - Queen, "Somebody to Love"
Blaise collapsed into his bed, sighing heavily and absentmindedly unbuttoning his shirt to prepare for a long, hot shower. Surprisingly, his mother had taken the news well, Lia even more so. The little girl had squealed and proclaimed that it sounded like one of her story books, and eagerly chattered on about the wedding and meeting her new sister-in-law-to-be and if she'd be nicer than the last one.
He hadn't heard from Granger since that morning, and wondered how she was doing with everything. By this point, he felt that he was quickly coming to grips with the whole thing, but then again he'd been sure that he'd be stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of his life and forced to pretend to be happy. At least with Granger, he had the capacity to feel things around her, whereas Daphne had seemed to suck all life from him.
He paused from scrubbing his hair, staring at the shower head and beginning to figure out the workings of his newfound relationship with Granger. They'd spoken little during Hogwarts, and he found it embarrassing to admit that he found her cute in their younger years, before her name began to follow behind Potter's and simply preceded praises or jealous remarks over her intelligence. But other than that, she'd simply slipped out of his radar for the majority of the school year, other than when Draco complained about the trio or when she'd nearly get herself killed doing this or that with her two dunderheads. Out of the whole group, Granger was the one he liked the most, as she had actually worked for her respect and was keen to maintain it. Potter seemed unused to any amount of respect and was still bumbling along with it being bestowed upon him for nothing, and Weasley...well, Weasley was just a dunderhead who he felt demanded respect. Blaise wasn't entirely too sure, as he'd never had a decent conversation with either male thirds of the "Golden Trio."
He paused, thinking over the last year, where he should've been in his seventh year at Hogwarts, but instead he hid out in Italy with his family. He remembered every horrible detail Draco told him about the school, and how unbearable it was for everyone, including him. Especially him. He remembered how pale and toneless Draco was when he described the events going on at his own house. He remembered how he choked and described seeing Potter, Weasley and Granger tossed in before him, demanding that he identify them. How Granger had obviously hit Potter with a stinging hex, saving his life, and how Draco had lied through his teeth for the three of them, for everyone in the whole damn Wizarding world. He could see it, unwillingly, in his own imagination, the Malfoy ballroom. Dark, unforgiving, and filled with screams from the girl who had annoyed everybody but him when they were young.
The soap toppled over and knocked Blaise out of his thoughts, and he picked it up with a frown. Granger had been through a lot, probably the most out of anybody, and he wondered idly if anybody had talked to her about any of it. Wondered if she would want to talk to him about it. Wondered if she would want to talk to him about anything in her life, about her childhood, family, friends. He groaned and settled his head against the slick, granite shower, knowing that he and Granger had a lot to do, just to get their acquaintanceship into a friendship alone.
He dressed in a soft jumper and pajama pants, making sure his flat was cool enough to allow him to do so, and padded barefoot into the kitchen to fix himself something to eat. Where would they move into, his flat or hers? When would they make that transition, before or after the wedding? Or would they buy a flat, or even a house, together? Would she mind spending a few holidays in Italy, or even learning Italian? Would Crookshanks mind children, when they were ready to have them? He had so many questions going through his head, he didn't hear the Floo go off until he heard heels clicking on the tile in the kitchen.
He looked up, prepared to see Daphne, but instead was met with the brunette his thoughts were occupying. She looked frazzled, but gave a weary smile for him anyway.
"Sorry to come over unannounced, I wouldn't normally, but I was in between places and didn't have an owl," she explained.
"It's fine, I was just worried you were someone else," he said, and she gave a small chuckle that made him grin. "Would you like something to eat? Or drink?"
She arched an eyebrow, a small grin on her lips, "Alcoholic or non?"
"Depends on the day you've been having," he supplied easily, cracking a few more eggs into the bowl he'd been using. "Liquor cabinet is next to the breadbasket, tea is to the right of that," he offered, and she clicked off that way with a sigh. "Whatever you're having is fine with me. You alright with omelets?"
"Sounds perfect," she said, filling up the wine glasses and settling one gently next to where he was cooking. He was struck by how calm, easy and domestic all of this was, and stifled a chuckle. She arched an eyebrow at him, twirling the Chardonnay easily, and he gave her a grin. "I've only just started to get to know you in the past two days, and already things are easier than they ever were with Daphne."
She gave a small snort, leaning against the counter next to him as he stood before the stovetop. "How long were you two engaged?"
He thought, pausing as he was about to pour the eggs into a small pan, "Since the War ended. We were trying to go slow, to pass off some semblance of a relationship, but...well, you know." He returned to his task as she hummed, sipping her drink quietly before speaking.
"I talked to my parents today," she said, and he turned to glance over at her. "They're...coping, surprisingly well. They would like to meet you tomorrow night, if you're free."
"I'd love to," he nodded before freezing completely, accidentally giving the first omelet far too many eggs. "What do I wear?"
She gave a light, bell-like laugh and a bright grin, and he felt warmed to the core to realize that it was all for him, and it was kind. "Just a button down and a pair of dress pants is fine, Blaise. And don't worry, my parents are just as clueless about this whole thing as we are." She furrowed her brow, and set down the glass before she hopped up on the countertop she'd been leaning on. "How did your family take it?"
"Well, my mother and my little sister took it quite well, my sister even more so," he explained as he focused on cooking. "My mother is going to tell my Grandmother, as well as my elder sister, and would like to meet you as soon as you're free to."
She nodded absently before sighing and tugging her hair out of the bun, letting the outrageous curls spill out and frame her face. She looked so tired, and so drained, and Blaise had no idea how to help her. "God, Blaise, what are we going to do? Do you know how hard it is to plan a wedding, especially when you've practically just met the person? I have no idea what your favorite food is, what your favorite color is, no idea what your childhood was like, and I doubt you can say the same for me. We're supposed to learn everything about each other in five months on top of venues, and centerpieces, and wedding parties and all of that bullshit!" She was panicking, he could tell that much, and was subtly turning off the fire on the stove. "And I don't know what I'm doing! I've never thought about any of this, let alone what you would like to do! We come from practically two different worlds, with our own sets of traditions, and - and..." She was losing steam, and trying to find more words to let her feelings known, but he could guess. Fear, stress, panic. Worry beyond belief. She looked at him with those big, sad brown eyes, and practically oozed sadness. "What if we don't work out, Blaise? We have to have children at some point. I don't want my children going through that for their entire lives, or knowing that they weren't even wanted."
"Alright, first thing first - drink the rest of that," he pointed at the wine glass and watched until she downed it easily. "Secondly - we will work out what to do with the children once the idea of them becomes more prevalent. Other than that, we work together and learn about each other in the process of planning the wedding. You have your own on top of how many others to plan?"
"Roughly eight, personally," she answered, and he had no idea what that really meant before he nodded.
"Right - I'll help where I can, such as groomsmen and food and whatnot. How does that sound?"
"That sounds...manageable," she admitted, and he nodded with a smile before settling a hand on her shoulder. This was really the only form of contact they'd had since the bond had taken place, and he was surprised to find her warm, and her silk silver blouse cold and calming.
"We'll get through this, Granger," he insisted steadily, and she nodded before placing her hand over his, much like when the bonding had taken place.
"Call me 'Hermione,'" she insisted, and he nodded before smiling easily at her, capturing her hand and giving it a chaste kiss on the back of it. The woman blushed brightly as he gave a charming grin and a wink, tugging her hand away and swatting at the air near him. "I said to call me 'Hermione,' not try to get into my pants."
"But ah," he turned to the stove with a flourish, waggling his eyebrows at her cheesily, "That is what we will be doing later, no?"
She snorted, a hard sound that startled him and made him crack up laughing with her, full-body laughs that rang through his flat and giving it a certain life that it'd never had before. It seemed to turn brighter, and even seemed more comforting now that this memory was enclosed in its walls forever. Blaise was alarmed at how easily they were getting along, but he knew that this only meant further snags along the road. However, he was sure they'd be able to figure it out as they came along, and didn't find himself with a gut-wrenching worry like he had with Daphne.
"Alright, so," she said as they calmed down and he returned to cooking. "What is your favorite food?"
He paused, thinking as he watched the eggs begin to cook. His grandmother was a brilliant cook, so he had many dishes to choose from, and tried to place which one he liked the most. Grang - Hermione could tell that he was thinking and allowed him to be silent, sneakily reaching for his untouched glass of white wine to sip as she waited.
"I suppose," he began softly, his eyes focusing somewhere else, "It would have to be my grandmother's fettuccine alfredo. She makes her own pasta, it's wonderful, I'm sure you'll love it."
"Mm, I love alfredo, but I'm not sure that would be my favorite food," she said, thinking as well, the two relaxing into sharing space with one another slowly. "I would have to say...french toast, with eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes. Whenever I would stay at my aunt's house - on my mother's side, I can't stand my dad's sister - she would make it for me, no matter if it was breakfast, lunch or dinner."
"I have the stuff to make that," he offered, arching an eyebrow at her and smiling as her eyes lit up. "Grab the bread, I'll grab bacon and potatoes and we can easily turn the omelets into scrambled eggs."
"Are you sure?" she fretted, although she was already hopping off the counter.
"Of course! Although, you are helping me, after you get me another glass of wine since you stole mine," he insisted with a smile, settling the bacon and potatoes on the counter and reusing the bowl he'd mixed the eggs with. They cracked a few more eggs in, some milk, and cinnamon and sugar before dipping the slices of bread in, talking and asking questions. Blaise's favorite color was a deep navy blue, like the night sky, and Hermione's favorite color was periwinkle, because it was light and airy and it was fun to say. The eggs were set aside as soon as they were done, making room for the bacon and potatoes and the french toast. Blaise made room for Hermione in front of the stove, and they easily maneuvered around each other to check or flip the food.
Once everything was done and on plates, Blaise led her to the small island countertop after flicking his wand and having parchment and books fly off to sort themselves out. They sat side by side, Hermione humming around the fork as she took her first bite, and Blaise was surprised by how well they'd done as well. They ate and talked, and he asked about all the things they would have to do in order to get the wedding in order.
"Well, there's possible venues, guests, wedding parties, dress, tux, bridesmaid dresses, groomsmen tuxes, flowers, centerpieces, music, photographs, honeymoon destination, transportation for bride and groom, transportation for guests, where to have the reception, where to have the actual wedding, cake, gift registry, food," she paused, and Blaise was too busy gaping at her to notice that a bit of egg slipped off his fork and back onto the plate. "Of course, that's just off the top of my head."
"Merlin's pants," he breathed as she chuckled, "And you do that for eight different people daily?"
"Well, some make it easier than others and come in with all their things figured out, just leaving me to set them up, but others come in and ask me what I think would be best for them, as if I actually know them well enough to make that big of a decision," she scoffed.
"Well, where do you want the wedding? Anywhere you could think of, name it, don't think about whether it's possible or not," he answered, and she faltered for a moment.
"I...Hogwarts," she said, and he blinked at her before humming.
"That would certainly be big enough, and take care of catering if we can work it out with McGonagall," he said. "And she loves you, and doesn't hate me, and of course it wouldn't hurt to ask, especially since the winter holiday starts roughly the same time our deadline is. Or do you think that would be pushing it?"
"I..." she blinked at him, stunned apparently, before shaking her head and setting those wild curls tumbling everywhere, "I guess I can write to her and explain, and ask her for the favor."
"Sounds brilliant, plus that kind of takes care of transportation for everyone, seeing as they can't Apparate into Hogwarts," she coughed on her drink, and he wondered what he could've said to have bothered her, but she was looking at him with wide eyes and a small "o" of a mouth. "I mean, they can just take the carriages from Hogsmeade, or work something out with McGonagall and Floo in."
"That makes everything easier, actually," she insisted, "Plus, since the house elves are paid now, they'd be getting paid more for the overtime."
"Right," he nodded, and she smiled like he had passed some sort of test. "And I'm sure they'd love to do something fancy for a wedding."
"Of course," she nodded before beaming, "Do you mind if I borrow some parchment? I feel like writing McGonagall right now."
"Oh, sure," he pulled a blank piece out from under a stack of books, quills and parchment that had been pushed off to the side at some point, offering her a self-inking quill as well. She pushed aside the plate and bent over her work, her handwriting graceful and elegant as her hair spilled over her shoulders. "I can send it for you in the morning, if you would like."
She nodded, intent on her work, and he wondered idly if maybe if he'd talked to her, maybe during their third year, maybe they could've been doing this all along. She hardly seemed to care about House stereotypes, as she seemed to like him right off the bat when he showed up in her office last week, so maybe they could've been friends. They could've done homework together, and she would've had someone to complain to when her friends were being idiots. Blaise would've felt obligated to reign Draco in more, and stand up for her, let her know that he cared. Hell, maybe one day in their fifth year, after things just started getting bad, they would've gotten chewed out by Umbridge because he'd dared to hold her hand in public, and he would only have given the brunette a wicked grin as they both thought of what they got up to in private.
He shook his head, blinking at the side of her face to make sure she hadn't somehow guessed what he was thinking, but she was still intently focused on her letter. He gave a small, quiet sigh, just knowing that his school crush was going to make this whole "marriage" thing ten times worse.
She finished her letter and he set it aside, already tied up and ready for the owl in the morning. They finished eating, but kept talking, moving onto his couch and relaxing as they idly wandered into more personal areas of conversation.
"I love my mother, don't get me wrong," Blaise stated, and Hermione nodded back at him, focused on him speaking as she moved the rim of the wine glass back and forth over her bottom lip, and he began looking anywhere but her so that he wouldn't do something brash. "I just...hated all the guys she would get married and unmarried to. She loved my father, probably the only one she honestly loved, and she loved me and my sister, but it just...hurt, I guess, to see all of her energy going into getting married and remarried, just to keep the money coming. Pureblood wives don't have a lot of skills to go out and work, and so she did what she knew how to do - get married. I mean, we weren't lacking at all, don't get me wrong, she didn't need to, but...she wanted to make sure that my sister and I were going to be okay, and we would be able to pursue whatever kind of career we wanted because we wanted to do it, not because we had to."
"Sounds noble," she murmured. "Also, sad."
"I've thought of it that way too, but I just remember that it took a lot of my mother's time away from me and my sister," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling and cradling his wine glass. "Evangeline used to be my best friend, especially before Hogwarts."
"Did something happen between you two?" Hermione asked, and he looked at her in surprise, almost as if he were surprised that he was actually speaking to someone else, before he shook his head.
"No, not really, we just grew apart. She's a whole eight years older than me, so we never went to school together. By the time I was starting, she'd already graduated a year prior. I had a whole seven years practically by myself, and I guess that's why I never really branched out during school. I was used to being alone."
"Could've come 'n talked to me," Hermione murmured, her bare feet tucked up underneath her, and Blaise gave her a small grin.
"Couldn't've," he murmured back, both of their faces flushed. Perhaps they'd had too many refills, but he couldn't be bothered to care, especially that it was his second time getting drunk in the past twenty four hours.
"Why not?" she challenged.
"I had a huge crush on you, especially when we were younger, and then later you always had Potter and Weasley following you around," he said, rolling his eyes, "One look at me, and they would've killed me."
"Probably," she sighed wearily, running her fingers through her hair, and Blaise idly got the want to do that as well before he stopped himself. "They always were terribly biased. I remem - wait," she turned her gaze back onto him, eyebrows coming down, "You fancied me?"
"Yeah," he gave a lopsided grin.
"Why?" her eyes were wide, and she honestly couldn't believe why he would've ever done such a thing.
He gave a quick shrug, "You were smart. And I liked your hair. I thought it was like a cloud. I was eleven. Not too keen on anything else a woman has at that point."
She flushed, and he could sense she wasn't sure what to do in the conversation anymore. He sat up, taking her wineglass, and trudged over to pour them into the sink. "If you'd like to crash here, I'll give you the bed."
"Oh, no, I can make it home," she insisted, still seated on the couch before she turned to him and looked at him cautiously, "Do you...that is to say...are you "keen" on me now?"
"Do I find you attractive?" he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and looking her over. She allowed the appraisal, staying perfectly still, and he found himself being drawn back to her eyes again and again. "Contrary to what others may think, Hermione, you're actually very beautiful." He needed to stop drinking, it made him far too honest.
She gave a small snort accompanied with a small smile before standing and picking up her shoes, "Thank you for the dinner, and the wine, Blaise. Don't forget to owl McGonagall in the morning?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," he grinned, moving over to see her to the fireplace.
"Alright," she nodded, turning to leave before he caught her hand again, pressing a kiss to it and never breaking eye contact, even when she turned bright red and got even cuter. She tugged her hand away, gently, and Blaise allowed it as he straightened himself out. She gave a small smile, and Blaise was surprised to find the flames reflected in her eyes. "What did I say about that before?"
"And what was my reply?" he grinned, chuckling with her before offering her the pot full of Floo powder. "Get home safely."
"I think I can manage," she scoffed, grabbing a handful before tipping her head to him. "Goodnight, Blaise."
"Goodnight, Hermione," he replied, watching her leave in the green flames. His flat seemed to grow dimmer as she left, and he hummed as he made his way to his bed and flopped down. He was already fairly sure of something, but he wanted to be sober when he came to the absolute conclusion that his school crush on Hermione Granger never really went away, and that he really had to do something about that before it ruined their relationship.
This wasn't originally what I had in mind, as I was planning on them realizing it gradually and having Blaise realize it first, but then I got to thinking and decided that that's just boring and takes far too long. So Blaise is well on his way to coping, and now we just have to wait and see what he decides to do!
Thank you for reading, and I would love it if you could leave me a review!