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Time's Up	By : Gotbooks00 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Blaise Views: 23286 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that. Also, no profit is being made from the writing or posti

Chapter List
- 1-Time's Up
- 2-TWO
- 3-THREE
- 4-FOUR
- 5-FIVE
- 6-SIX
- 7-SEVEN
- 8-EIGHT
- 9-NINE
- 10-TEN
- 11-ELEVEN
- 12-TWELVE
- 13-THIRTEEN
- 14-FOURTEEN
- 15-FIFTEEN
- 16-SIXTEEN
- 17-SEVENTEEN
- 18-EIGHTEEN
- 19-NINETEEN
- 20-TWENTY
- 21-TWENTY ONE
- 22-TWENTY TWO
- 23-TWENTY THREE
- 24-TWENTY FOUR
- 25-TWENTY FIVE
- 18
- 19
- 20
Time's Up by Gotbooks93

Summary: Summary: After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and out of time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Will things become better, or worse? Join Hermione and Xander as they find out.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Time passed.

In the weeks following Noel’s birth, Hermione found herself settling into a new routine. New, but comfortable.

She spent her days in her classroom, teaching and trying to prevent various magical calamities that her students managed to invent. Afternoons were spent in her office, grading papers and tweaking curriculums. Her nights, though, were quite a bit more enjoyable.

Most evenings were spent either in her quarters at Hogwarts or in the decadent confines of Zabini manor. Xander would sprawl out on the floor, diligently making his way through his homework. Blaise found it highly entertaining at his son’s blatant overachievement in his work, which included footnotes, citations, and cross- referenced material to back up his arguments. Even Hermione, who had never been less than top if her class during her years in muggle primary school, found the practice a little over- done. But it was better to be an overachiever than an underachiever, she decided.

~(0)~

Their routine during September was interrupted a little by Hermione and Blaise’s joint birthday celebration. Blaise was only a few weeks older than she was, and Hermione decided a surprise party would be quite fun, if only she could keep the planning of the party away from Blaise’s sharp golden gaze.

The party, cleverly devised by Hermione, took place in a private room at the Three Broomsticks, and had been a smashing success.

She had made sure the event was attended by both of their friends, as well as her parents, Christian, and Noemi. Somehow, the invitation to Elena had gotten lost in transit. Shame, that.

Inviting Blaise’s friends had been somewhat more difficult, especially when dealing with people like Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey, who she only knew a little. In an effort to avoid conflict, she had sent Malfoy’s invitation directly to Mandy. Unexpectedly, they had all shown up to the event, looking dapper in their professionally tailored suits and well- polished suits.

As time passed during the party, Hermione and Blaise’s friends had slowly begun to mingle. She couldn’t help but be amused by the end of the event; Hermione’s father was deep in conversation with Prucey, discussing the muggle stock market, and a rather sloshed- looking Cho Chang snuggled up against Theo Nott. Funny how good food (and copious amounts of alcohol) could break down barriers.

Despite this, the variations in taste, lifestyle, and personality had become rather apparent through gifts. Fred and George Weasley, true to their word, had come through with a gift for Blaise. One of their latest products, which had yet to hit the shelves at Weasley’s Wizard Weezes, was called The Impersonating Illusionist. A small box around six inches wide, the device was a rather like the magical version of a muggle hologram.

“Here, let us show you how it works.” Fred had jumped in to explain, eagerly. “It’s a rather brilliant piece of magic, if I do say so myself. You just record an image of yourself- say, you sitting at your desk at work, writing on a bit of parchment- and you record one phrase, which will repeat whenever someone comes within five feet of you. Perfect for a lazy afternoon at the office, if you’d rather, say, be meeting up with a certain Charms Mistress for a quick snog. Mind, it can only record one action/phrase combination, but it’s dead useful in certain situations.”

Hermione, torn between embarrassment (caused by the snogging comment) and horror (that the device would become her student’s new favorite item), was silent as Blaise examined the gift thoughtfully.

“Brilliant, Weasley.” He said, nodding to George, then to Fred. “Weasley. Thank you.”

Fred and George, looking pleased, melted back into the crowd, and another well- wisher stepped forward to present their gift. Some more memorable gifts of the night included some rather naughty Slytherin lingerie for Hermione (from Ginny and Pansy), and a set of front- row seats to the next Quidditch World Cup (courtesy of Ron). Blaise gifted Hermione with a beautiful platinum bracelet, with tiny square diamonds around the edges. A pair of diamond earrings accompanied the bracelet, and she knew they had cost a fortune.

However, Blaise claimed his most memorable gift came after the party, when Xander and Hermione presented their gift. They were the only people left in the room, everyone else having left a few minutes before. Around them, tables held empty butterbeer bottles and plates, and chairs were scattered around tables. The sun, close to dipping below the horizon, spread sparse beams of light against the aged wood of the floor.

Xander handed Blaise a small, wooden box, smiling quietly. The outside of the box was dark wood, and simple swirls were carved into the sides. Upon opening it, Blaise looked vaguely puzzled. Inside were ten stoppered vials, their contents a shining, pearly substance.

“You told me that you had been there to see all the important moments in Xander’s life.” Hermione said, smiling softly. “We can’t turn back time, but we decided to give you the next best thing. Memories.”

“Mother and I went to a shop in Hogsmeade and got our memories professionally duplicated, so they’re very clear.” Xander piped in. “Three of the memories are mine. One is from Christmas last year, and one is from a vacation we took a few summers ago, and one is just of a normal day of us together. They’re not terribly exciting, but Mother and I decided those are some of the best ones.

Blaise’s eyes suspiciously bright, he managed a weak smile. “I’m sure whichever ones you’ve picked are perfect, Alexander.”

“The dates are listed on the top of the lid,” Hermione explained, pointing. “I put in two of when I was pregnant, and the other five are big moments in Xander’s life. Birth, first steps, first day of school, that sort of thing.”

Blaise, looking down at the ten small vials, looked as though he were gazing at the Holy Grail, and swallowed hard.

“Thank you.” He said solemnly, and Hermione could feel the powerful emotion behind the words. “Thank you both.”

Hours later, Hermione woke in the darkness of their bedroom. Automatically, she moved an arm out behind her, reaching for Blaise’s form. The sheets were cool behind her, and empty. Shaking off the sleepy haze of her mind, she sat up and strained her eyes in the low light coming from embers in the fireplace. Finding no sign of her lover, she slid from the bed, padding quietly towards the sitting room attached to their bedroom. Her eyes caught on a long, thin strip of light coming from under the double doors, and paused.

Hermione pressed one hand against the dark wood of one of the doors, feeling the faint grooved woven along the surface. Moving slowly, she turned the handle of the door slowly, careful not to make any noise, and peered into the sitting room.

The sitting room was lit by an overhead light fixture, although Blaise had dimmed it a little. After a moment, she located him on the couch, the coffee table pulled up in front of him. The wooden box of memories was open, its contents spread across the table’s surface. Amid all the vials was the Zabini family pensive, which Blaise’s head was currently immersed in. Hermione watched as his hands flexed and relaxed against the edges of the pensive. After a few minutes, Blaise removed his face from the liquid surface of the pensive, and roughly dashed the moisture from his eyes. As Blaise used his wand to transfer the memory back into its vial, Hermione recognized the blue label, and realized it was the memory of Alexander’s birth. A knot formed in her own throat, and she silently cried along with her lover, hidden from view.

Blaise continued to watch the memories, again and again, well into the early hours before dawn. Some time around three in the morning, Hermione returned to their bed, her eyes fixed on the door to the sitting room. Before long her eyelids to begin to feel like lead and they slipped closed. Two hours later, she drifted back into consciousness, roused by the feel of Blaise getting into the bed behind her. As he molded his body around her back, she felt the whisper of his lips against the back of her neck.

“Questo è il modo in cui le cose dovrebbero essere. Per sempre, amore mio.” He whispered, before wrapping her securely in his arms. Hermione drifted back into sleep, closing her eyes as dawn’s rosy fingers spread across the sky.

~(o)~

“That’s right, Mr. Hopkins, make sure the ‘flick’ is short but sharp. Miss Smith, try making your ‘swish’ a bit less…dramatic.” Hermione roamed between the tables in her classroom, gently correcting each of her first year students as they strove to cast Wingradium Leviosa.

She could still remember her own bossy instructions to Ronald eighteen years ago, and reminded herself to owl both Harry and Ron for a lunch date. They’d hardly seen each other over the summer, and now that the school year had started up their schedules would be busier than ever. Never the less, she resolved to make time for her oldest friends.

Scanning the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, Hermione’s gaze caught on the form of Benjamin Berry, who was seated with another tall Hufflepuff boy. He had just crumpled a bit of parchment in his hand, and Rosemary Rowle, a pureblood girl from one of the Old Families gave a loud snicker. Benjamin’s cheeks flamed, and his housemate patted his back encouragingly, shooting a glare at the stuck- up girl. Hermione’s blood boiled for a moment, watching the obvious bullying, but forced herself to remain silent. In her experience, it was often better to let her students try to deal with these sorts of things themselves. However, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t keep a close eye on the situation.

By the end of class, Hermione was rather satisfied with the student’s results in regards to the charm. Only one of her pupils had managed to blow anything up, and no one had stabbed anyone else in the eye with their wand. She called out a reminder of their homework before dismissing the class.

“Mr. Berry, a word?” Hermione requested as the children began to file out. She left the door to her office open, seating herself behind her desk.

Looking nervous in a way that only first year Hufflepuffs could, Benjamin shuffled in, taking the seat Hermione gestured to.

“How are you finding Hogwarts, Mr. Berry?” Hermione asked, smiling pleasantly.

“Good.”

“Excellent. Finding plenty of friends?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I was pleased to see you chose to give Hufflepuff a chance.”

At that, Benjamin glanced up, surprised. “’Scuse me if I’m wrong, Professor, but I thought the Sorting Hat decided where we’re sorted.”

Hermione smiled indulgently. “Indeed, Mr. Berry, it does. But it is my theory that the hat will not place you somewhere you are not willing to give a chance. As a matter of fact, I’ve heard it speaks to some students, should any conflict arise during the sorting.”

The boy blushed, not quiet meeting her eyes. “As I thought.” Hermione continued. “And you haven’t run into any… trouble?”

Benjamin’s dark eyes darted up to meet her, but he remained silent. Hermione swished her wand at the door, and it closed with a discreet click.

“Mr. Berry,” Hermione continued, “If you are ever to run into any trouble from other students, especially concerning your blood status, you’re more than welcome to talk to me. I myself have been in your shoes and some things, unfortunately, do not change.”

“But you’re Hermione Granger!” Benjamin exclaimed. “And a war hero, to boot. Can’t imagine anyone trying to take you on.”

“Well, most people don’t try to ‘take me on’ these days, but I was a first year once, too.” Hermione explained. “And I only became a war hero after fighting a long and bloody war to change the way things were. Don’t get me wrong, our world is a better place now for it. But no matter how many laws against discrimination we create, some people are always going to cling to the old ways. And it’s our job to show them that muggle borns are just as deserving of magic as everyone else.”

Benjamin nodded, shifting in his seat. Sighing, Hermione gave a dismissal. “If you’d like a few tips, I’m sure you can find some basic defensive spells in the library. Anything by Herald Geome should be useful. Also, I know Professor Firenze is looking for a bit of help on Thursday evening, trying to get his classroom vegetation in check, if you’re still interested in ‘paying off your debt’?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am.” Benjamin replied, nodding vigorously. “But could you tell me where his classroom is?”

“Third floor, west wing. Just follow the sound of bird calls and you should be able to find it. Off you go.”

After the door snapped shut, Hermione sat still in her office, eyes wandering restlessly. Her first years had been the last class of the day, and the temptation to slip out of her office early nearly overwhelmed her. Luna had agreed to collect Xander along with Teddy from school, but surely she’d be happy to turn the boys over to Hermione’s care for the rest of the afternoon. They could all pop over to the Alley and get ice cream. Maybe stop into Blaise’s office at work to say hello. Then, some shopping and dinner at the Leakey Cauldron…

Before the idea got out of hand, Hermione firmly reigned in the fantasy. She knew Wendy Allen would likely stop by to go over the material for next week’s quiz, likely bringing some friends along. And Neville had mentioned he might bring by an enchanted ficus for her to look at. Many years had passed, but some things didn’t change. She was still a rather bossy bookworm, and work was something to be accomplished. After all, she hadn’t earned the title ‘Brightest Witch of the Age’ by sitting around eating ice cream.

Sighing a little, Hermione glanced over to the west wall of her office, focusing on a framed picture on a shelf. It was one of Xander and Blaise at the beach in Italy, making a sandcastle in the hot sun. She had placed the photograph there at the beginning of term, and her students frequently asked about it when they came into her office. Taking one last look at the moving black and white photograph, she forced her thoughts back to her sixth’s year’s essays on the Avis charm.

~(o)~

She wasn’t snooping, Hermione told herself firmly. She was just making some… recreational discoveries. Although, if Blaise were to walk in and find her, elbow deep in his study’s desk, he may say otherwise.

In Hermione’s defense, her original intention was to locate a spare red quill, so she could finish grading her fourth year’s essays before tomorrow morning. However, in looking through the loose odds and ends in the drawers, she had found a few interesting items.

Most of the objects were rather mundane- broken quills, scraps of parchment with names and floo numbers on them, and reminders to do various tasks. A muggle stapler and paper clips had made Hermione grin, as well as a small, folded muggle photograph of Hermione and Xander, taken some years before. It seemed Blaise had been in contact with Hermione’s mum. Still, the knowledge that Blaise kept a photograph of them inside his own desk gave her a little, light fluttering feeling in her chest.

Towards the back of the desk drawer, Hermione began to find fewer bits and pieces and more debris. Broken quills, small balls of parchment, and a spare sickle met her inquisitive fingers. The slim, long drawer at the center of the desk seemed awfully long, and Hermione frowned as her hand sightlessly drifted back further and further. Her arm was almost fully extended into the desk. Surely, she should have hit the back panel of the drawer by then?

Just as the thought drifted into her mind, Hermione’s hand skirted a small, cool piece of metal. After feeling the object with her fingers for a moment, she realized there was a small, metal loop attached to the wooden bottom of the desk. The loop was less than an inch wide, and welded onto a small metal base. In feeling the shape of the loop, Hermione’s finger accidently caught in the catch and flicked it backwards.

The ‘click’ of the object was accompanied by another movement that had Hermione hurriedly jerking her arm from the drawer altogether.

The bottom of the desk was ever- so- slowly rising, millimeter by millimeter. Its items shifted a bit with the motion, sliding around. After a few seconds, the bottom of the drawer had fully raised, revealing a hidden compartment below it. The false bottom of the drawer was supported by thin silver pegs, about as long as Hermione’s pinkie finger. The compartment below was quite shallow, only large enough to hold a few folded pieces of parchment, neatly folded and sorted into four stacks.

Hermione didn’t move, but stared at the stacks, mentally debating with herself over the pros and cons of looking through the parchments, which looked suspiciously like letters. Behind her, the manor’s grounds were bathed in twilight, the garden and trees dark against the hazy blue sky. She knew Blaise would be at work late tonight, an evening meeting holding him up at the office. Xander was likely upstairs, playing with Duke and Brutus, or working on homework. The knowledge that she wouldn’t be caught wasn’t helping her moral compass.

Hermione paused once, twice. Her hand hovered over the first stack of papers. Exhaling quickly, Hermione snatched up the stack, and hesitantly sank into Blaise’s desk chair behind her, looking around guiltily. The study was lit by the faint light through the windows and a single table lamp by the door. The armchairs sat empty, and the bookcases seemed to offer a silent judgment against her. Glaring at the books, she defiantly opened the first folded parchment, and was almost immediately disappointed. It was a statement of ownership of Blaise’s personal vault at Gringotts. While the document was undoubtedly important, it was so… mundane.

The other pages in the stack were equally dull, although a few of them took her by surprise. Besides some important- looking legal documents, Blaise had also stored a copy of Xander’s birth certificate and a letter that she, herself had written Blaise in Hogwarts. As she made her way through the first few stacks, Hermione laughed at herself a little. Some part of her had expected to find some startling secret or incriminating piece of evidence against Blaise. When she tried to come up with suitable examples, she realized they all sounded rather like something from a muggle film.

By the time she reached the final stack of papers, Hermione was rather relaxed in her snooping, leaning back lazily against the chair. The first page was Blaise’s Statement of Innocence from the Second Wizarding War, signed and approved by the Wizangamot. The second page was a letter from Christian to Blaise, detailing Beauxbaton’s suspension of Noemi several years ago. The third and final piece of parchment was on rather thick parchment, and the broken seal depicted the Zabini family crest. Hermione leaned forward a little, a small frown marring her brows. The script inside was unfamiliar, and the words were Italian. After casting a translation spell, Hermione dipped her head to read.

My dear nephew, the missive began.

I will admit, I was surprised to receive your letter. Regardless, I would be pleased to provide you with advice concerning your current predicament.

Judging by the way you described your relationship with Alexander, I think you will have little trouble in gaining custody of him. Based on our brief introduction a few weeks ago, he is an intelligent, clever young man with much potential, and will hopefully be a valuable asset to the Zabini line. I have the appropriate forms to declare him as your son and heir, should you wish to do so, and can send them at your earliest convenience. As I’m sure you’ve realized, your connections both in Italy and the UK would allow you to override any resistance offered by Alexander’s mother, Ms. Granger.

It is my opinion, however, that you go a step further in building up your little family. While it is all well and good for those of lower social classes to endorse single parenthood, most- if not all- of the Old Families heartily endorse the traditional, nuclear family structure in a household. Understand, I do not say this as an offense against your lifestyle or even Ms. Granger’s. But the scandal that has accompanied the discovery of Alexander’s parentage has begun to reflect poorly not only against you, but against the family as a whole, and must be corrected in all due haste.

Blaise, you have consulted me in times past on many subjects, such as the perusal of your law degree, allegiance in England’s civil war, and the various tricks to handling your mother’s behavior. As a result, I will assume my words carry some weight with you. So let me be blunt- If there were no child in existence, I would likely encourage you to look elsewhere for a marital companion, and consequently avoid the muddying of our bloodlines. However, as Alexander has been both revealed to and socially acknowledged by the family, I must advise you to acquire Ms. Granger as a wife immediately. Every day that goes by without an engagement announcement is a mark against the Zabini family as a whole, and thus intolerable.

If you were one of your cousins, I would feel the need to provide suggestions on how to tie her to you (an ‘unexpected’ pregnancy is usually very effective). But judging by her actions and behavior towards you this summer, I have little fear for your success. Continue to court her and she will fall prey to your proposal without fail. While your Ms. Granger is undeniably intelligent, she is female, and thus susceptible to the beguilement of men, especially one such as you. If I know you at all, I imagine you’ve already begun the process of wooing her. Diamond jewelry, dancing, and sentimental promises of love and fidelity usually seem to do the trick.

Contact me as soon as the engagement is arranged. I would rather not find out about it in the international issue of The Daily Prophet.

Fais bien, crains rien.

Berlios Zabini

Swallowing hard, Hermione sat back against the chair, dazed and read the letter again. She attempted to assemble facts, instead of falling into a pit of emotional turmoil.

Blaise had contacted his great uncle Berlios for advice in gaining Xander as his heir, without mentioning a word of her, Xander’s mother! Berlios had advised him to marry her, so that the family could save face. After a moment, Hermione glanced back at the letter, which laid open on the desk.

If I know you at all, I imagine you’ve already begun the process of wooing her. Dancing, expensive jewelry, and sentimental promises of love and fidelity usually seem to do the trick.

The words caused her to look back on the events of the last few months.

She and Blaise, dancing at Trés Belle Chanson. His birthday gift to her- diamond earrings and a matching bracelet. Casual words that had seemed unimportant at the time. His strange reluctance to admit the Malfoy wedding would be the most spectacular of the decade. Xander’s mention of a ‘proper family’ on the beach in Italy.

Hermione, bristling with hurt and anger, felt as if she could have smacked herself for her blindness. All that time, he had been preparing her for his proposal. If the actions had been out of love, it would have been sweet. But this wasn’t love- this was a twisted need to look good for the public, for the other Old Families. This was…this was wrong.

And she wouldn’t stand for it.

Moving quickly, Hermione stood, cramming Berlios’ letter into the hidden compartment of the drawer and slamming it shut. Walking swiftly, she stormed out of the office, following the sounds Xander’s voice, which was coming from the informal parlor down the hall. He lay on the floor, surrounded by books and parchment, and was apparently trying to explain the finer points of harvesting the grey columnar cactus during the full moon to Duke. Brutus snored softly on the door a few feet away.

“Alexander,” Hermione called to him from the doorway, trying to hide her impatience and anger. “Gather your things, quickly. We’re leaving, now.”

………

Translations:

“Questo è il modo in cui le cose dovrebbero essere. Per sempre, amore mio.” (Italian)

-This is the way things should be. Forever, my love.

“Fais bien, crains rien.” (Latin)

-Do well, fear nothing.

Chapter Nineteen Author’s Note:

I’m baaaaaack!

Gotbooks93
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