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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
- 23
- 24
- 25
Time's Up by Gotbooks93

Summary: After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'.

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.

CHAPTER TWENTY- FOUR

"Thank you so much for meeting with me, Percy." Hermione said for the third time. She nervously smoothed the napkin in her lap. "Your little business card really did the trick."

Percy Weasley sat opposite her, motioning for their waiter. "Yes, they are rather useful. Fred and George made them, actually. And it's absolutely not a problem, Hermione." He assured, placing his order. They had agreed to meet in a little restaurant in the seaside town of Newquay. Ominous clouds rolled overhead, and passersby clutched their coats as they hurried by.

The pair waited until the waiter had drifted away before they continued. "Now, I've already put out some feelers for your case. Little- known fact: Wizengamot members tend to gossip like old women, and they're positively buzzing over this." Percy made slightly disapproving face, his mouth tightening at the edges.

"And how do you think they'll vote?" Hermione asked anxiously. She knew that the answer would probably be insufficient to calm her nerves, but asked anyway.

"So far, it looks like you have the support of most of the women- not uncommon for custody cases- as well as the veterans from the First Great War… they have a bit of a soft spot for you. Your staunchest opposition comes from the members of the Old Families, as well as some of the newer members. They don't make as much, and are more susceptible to a bribe from Mrs. Zabini. Unfortunately, a likely possibility." Percy said, spreading his hands across the tabletop. "Let Zabini know that the Minister has opened up the case to all Wizengamot members, and none of them have scheduled vacation time on Friday, so they'll all be there."

Hermione took a gulp from her glass of water, picturing the last time she was in a Ministry court room: during the infamous "Death Eater Trials" following the end of the war. Not exactly happy memories.

"You need at least thirty votes for an undisputed win. Right now, I'd say you have around nineteen, but I'd say the same for your opposition. The other members are either generally unbiased, or they'll wait to hear public opinion before voting. Re- elections will take place in the spring, and they tend to sway with the population. As a result, I'd advise you do a little PR; hold a press conference, do an interview. The more support you have from the magical community, the better off you will be."

Hermione glanced at her reflection in one of the restaurant's windows. Her hair hung limp, her face was pale, and deep smudges circled her eyes. Quite frankly, she looked a mess. But if it meant getting a few more votes in her favor, she could force herself into heels and brush her hair. For Xander.

"Is there anything else?" She asked, facing her dining companion once again.

"Just one more thing." Percy said, reaching into his leather, monogrammed briefcase. "I have a friend in the Records Office at the Ministry, and he accidentally made a copy of Alexander's government record. It accidently slipped into my briefcase yesterday at lunch." The normally serious wizard winked, sliding a thin, Ministry emblazoned folder across the table. "Of course, only Ministry officials are privy to this sort of information, but these things do happen."

Touched, she smiled gratefully at the wizard. "Thank you, so much, Percy. Really."

He ran a hand through his thinning red hair. "Yes, well, I should be getting home to Audrey and Lucy." He said, standing. "I'll keep you posted on any other developments."

After settling their bill and saying their farewells, the witch and wizard stepped into a side- street, each vanishing with a quiet pop.

~(o)~

Her kitchen table had seen better days. At that moment, it was haphazardly strewn with parchment, riddled with long- cold cups of tea, and piled with empty ink bottles. Half a dozen chairs surrounded the table haphazardly, although only two of them were currently occupied by actual people.

"What about Neville? We've worked together for years, and he's known Xander since he was born." Hermione suggested.

Her companion shook his head, scratching something out on one of his lists and re-writing it in the margins. "Longbottom may be a public figure, but he's not good under social pressure." Blaise disagreed. "Put a sword in his hand and he can decapitate an evil, giant snake, but he's dead useless in front of a crowd."

Hermione nodded reluctantly, moving on to the next name on her list. "Alright, what about my cousin Tammy? She's always been fond of him, and she'd probably agree to a memory modification after the trial."

Another shake of the head. "We're already pushing it with your parents; putting two muggles on the stand is a risk, one that Mother's lawyers will probably latch onto in a second. We need to present a small, solid batch of witnesses. People who speak well publically and can be trusted not to say the wrong thing. The Wizengamot likes things to be fairly straightforward- though they like to see a little emotion, here and there- so we'll put Molly Weasley on for a bit of fireworks, then cool things down with Christian."

Hermione suppressed a shiver at the cold, businesslike tone Blaise had adopted. Granted, Blaise had been to court dozens of times, and likely had the Wizengamot's reactions down to a science…but the knowledge that this was their son, that it was their case, surely changed things?

Her unease was obviously apparent on her face, because Blaise did a double take. His gaze softened, and he reached out a hand to cup her face, smoothing it over her cheekbone. "Mi dispiace, cara.I just can't let there be any mistakes in this case, no matter how small. We have to win. The alternative is unacceptable." Hermione nodded quickly. "Now, would it be alright if we go over the witness list again?"

Hermione breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth, a few times before she picked up her wand and flicked it toward the table. Ink bottles and tea cups soared towards the sink, and the tea bags plopped into the rubbish bin. Two chairs slid themselves under the table, leaving the remaining ones to stack neatly in the corner. Papers sorted into neat piles, with Hermione occasionally flicking her wand in correction.

Before long, the table had been set to rights, leaving Hermione feeling a tiny bit better. She straightened her spine, and tied her hair back with a blue elastic. That accomplished, she faced Blaise, who looked a little amused. "Alright, who's first?"

"To recap, we've agreed that Potter, Molly Weasley, and one of your parents should take the stand on Friday. Other possibilities include my cousin Christian, Charlie Weasley, Poppy Pomfrey, and Minevrva McGonagall. All good possibilities, but we need to keep the number of witnesses down. The Wizengamot would rather hear from five well- chosen speakers than fifteen half- assed ones."

Hermione nodded. "For my parents, I think they'd both do a good job, but Mum tends to be the less emotional one, and probably better suited for the job."

"Okay. Anyone else?" Blaise asked, dark eyebrows raised.

"What about Xander?" Hermione asked, somewhat hesitant.

"Yes, I thought about him, too." Blaise confided. "We'd have to list him as a desired witness to the Wizengamot before the trail, but I'd rather he be called by our opponents for cross examination. They'd get to question him first, but we'd get to wrap his testimony up. He'll respond to my questions better, and that's what will hopefully stick in the minds of the Wizengamot. Granted, I'm not allowed to unduly influence him before then, but I can try to prep him a little before Friday."

Blaise made a note on the parchment in front of him, his curly hair sweeping attractively over his forehead as he leaned forward. Seemingly of its own volition, Hermione's hand reached across the table and smoothed it out of his eyes.

He allowed her to comb her fingers though his hair for a moment before he nimbly caught her small hand in his larger one. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he pressed each digit to his full, firm mouth, lingering as he caught her bright brown eyes with his own.

"I love you, Hermione." He murmured, and her mouth automatically formed to return the words before she caught herself.

Could she trust him? Could she trust herself, to fall back into love with this devastatingly handsome, clever man?

Blaise had obviously grown tired of waiting for her reply, and gently released her hand, placing it on the table between them. Hermione thought she caught a flash of pain cross his face before it re-assembled into the 'lawyer mask'.

"Now, according to the file Weasley got us, the Ministry has a copy of medical records for Xander, and they're…rather impressive. All of the injuries have been labeled as 'accidents', but they often are when it comes to child abuse cases…"

Hermione and Blaise continued to work for several hours, lighting candles as the late afternoon light faded into evening, then true night.

"The press conference is scheduled for ten o'clock tomorrow morning at Flint and Furgeson, room 103. I'll be here around nine. Please try not to worry; there will only be a dozen reporters, and I'll be there with you the whole time." He said, his eyes taking in her features. Hermione wished she had his confidence.

"I should go, and you should get to bed." Blaise commented. "We've both got an early morning, and it doesn't look like you got much sleep last night."

Hermione nodded reluctantly, her back popping as she stood. "Let me know if anything new comes up." She instructed.

Blaise acquiesced. "I'm going to floo Christian and see if he can get a portkey here on Wednesday. He can collect Noemi from school, and they can stay with me until the trial."

Walking him to the floo, Hermione smiled faintly. "You'll tell Xander I said hello, and that I love him?" She asked anxiously.

"Of course. Goodnight, cara." He stepped into the emerald flames and was gone.

~(o)~

"In conclusion, I vehemently reject any and all accusations of child abuse and neglect in regards to my son. Um… are there any questions?" Hermione asked, leaning into the old- fashioned microphone on the desk in front of her.

Immediately, there was a flurry of movement and calls of "Ms. Granger!" from the reporters assembled before her.

Blaise leaned towards her, whispering "The blonde girl, second back, in the purple suit" into her ear.

Hermione obediently pointed to the blonde reporter, and her colleges immediately quieted. "Ms. Granger, Heidi Debois, Witch Weekly. Should you lose the case, who will take legal custody of Alexander Granger- Zabini?" The young woman asked, her Quick Quotes Quill poised and ready. Hermione tried not to sneer at the device as she answered.

"According to my living will and testament, my parents and his father, Blaise Zabini, will share custody of Alexander. However, at this point it's up to the Wizengamot. We believe that Harry Potter and his paternal grandmother, Elena Zabini, are also candidates as Alexander's legal guardians."

The statement left a bitter taste in her mouth, and hoped it didn't show.

Again, the reporters erupted with questions, and Hermione answered several other questions, including the wildly inappropriate "Is it true that your long-time friend, Harry Potter, is not only your child's godfather, but his birth father?"

Hermione gave an unladylike snort, and confirmed that Blaise Zabini was in fact Xander's biological father. "Honestly," She snarked, "do you check your facts at all?"

Repressing amusement, Blaise whispered to her. "One more question, then we're done."

She chose a quirky- looking fellow towards the back. "You, in the green robes." Hermione said, pointing.

"Ms. Granger, Renold Twiller, International Magic." The man said, his speech tinged with a faint accent. "Natalia Giordano, a cousin of your son's by marriage, recently made a remark on the case. She said, 'Neither Blaise Zabini nor Hermione Granger are fit to be raising that child. If anyone should have guardianship, it's my cousin Elena Zabini.' Do you have a rebuttal to this statement?"

Up to that point, Hermione thought she had done rather well. Her emotions had largely been held in check, and the answers came rather easily.

However, her composure was nearly lost with her reply. Taking a deep breath, she let loose.

"Firstly, my son and I have been in the same vicinity with Mrs. Giordano for no more than three hours in our entire lives. Hardly enough time for her to make such a judgment, if you ask me." Her voice cracked like a whip, and the reporter seemed to shrink in his seat. "Secondly, I think Mrs. Giordano should stop judging other person's parenting skills, and focus more on her own, as both her daughters would likely attest.

"And thirdly, I love and know my son more than anyone else on the planet. While Elena Zabini may be Alexander's grandmother, I think both his emotional happiness and intellectual growth would severely diminish under her care." She opened her mouth to continue, but was quickly silenced by Blaise.

"That will be Ms. Granger's final statement for today. Thank you all for coming, and please contact myself or my legal team for any further concerns. Thank you." With that, Blaise snapped the microphone case closed, and put a firm hand on the small of her back as he guided her off the stage and through the law office.

Once they were safely sealed inside Blaise's office, Hermione collapsed into one of his visitor's chairs.

"Was that bad?" she asked, already regretting her harsh words.

"It could definitely be worse." Blaise said, shrugging as he flipped through a file. "It might even be good. You were very composed during the first half, but people love a little drama. The 'I love my son more than anyone else on the planet' line was gold."

"It wasn't a line, Blaise!" Hermione shouted. "You know that I miss my son, and I do love him more than anyone else!"

Blaise nodded levelly, choosing to keep calm in the face of her frustration. "I know you do, although I think I love him just as much, if not more." He smiled softly, although Hermione knew it was to cover up the vulnerability that came with loving someone else with all you had. "But you're missing the point. When the stakes are as high, you've got to play the game."

"But I don't know the game! I don't know the rules!" She exclaimed.

"Well, then it's lucky you have me." Blaise soothed. "I live the game every day, and I know the rules like the back of my hand. Have a little faith."

~(o)~

Hermione was seated at her desk, grading essays, and trying not to tear her hair out in frustration. Minerva had kindly found a substitute to teach her Charms classes for the week, but the grading continued to fall to Hermione. She was trying to count her blessings.

Again and again, her sixth year students confused the Avifors charm and the Avis spell, although she had explained the difference not once, but twice in class last week. The overall quality of the essays had been steadily decreasing as the Yule holidays drew near, and already she was fed up with the half- hearted attempts of some of her students.

She was momentarily distracted as a knock was heard at the door. Calling a "come in", she bent her head back to the parchment for a moment. Whoever was visiting could wait for a minute.

This decision was quickly cast aside, though, when a throat cleared rudely. She was briefly reminded of a similar disruption coming from Delores Umbridge.

The sound was not high enough to be one of her students, not that any of them would dare to be so disrespectful. Looking up sharply, she was astonished to see none other than Mr. Lang, the ministry official in charge of Xander's case file. He was dressed in his Ministry robes, and Hermione felt the sudden urge to palm her wand. The man's beady, pale blue eyes still made her skin crawl.

"Mr. Lang, what a surprise." Said Hermione, forcing cheerfulness into her voice as she stood. Adhering to social niceties, she reached out and shook his proffered hand, although the idea of touching him made her rather uncomfortable. His palm was moist, and he held her hand for a moment longer than what was socially acceptable. Pulling it back, she forced another smile.

"Won't you sit down?" she invited, gesturing to the upholstered chairs across from her desk. As he lowered his body into one, his eyes lingered inappropriately on her chest, which was encased in professional button- down dress robes. Uncomfortable again, she wrapped her teaching robes more securely around her, hiding his view. His eyes darted up to hers, his gaze unapologetic. The smile dropped from her face, and her tone lost most of its friendliness.

"I must say, I wasn't expecting you." She said bluntly. "What brings you to Hogwarts?"

"I don't know if Healer Stiles mentioned, but I'm a case worker for magical children in Britain. Rather like your muggle social workers, from what I understand. I was called to Hogwarts to remind students about forbidden magic during their holidays, and decided to pop in to say hello. See how you were doing, given…the state of things."

"The state of things." Hermione repeated dully. "I'm doing well, I guess. Waiting for the trial to begin so I can get Alexander home."

"And how has he been, thus far?"

"Well, I haven't talked to him directly, of course, but his father says he's bearing up amiably. A bit home sick, I suppose." Hermione replied, immediately seeing through the man's poorly veiled attempt to slip her up. "Blaise has Alexander working on the exercises for ECES every other night, and I think it's doing him some good."

"Good, good." Said Lang distractedly. His gaze had drifted around her office as she spoke, and he was currently peering at a photograph on the wall. Standing, he moved over to it, and Hermione tensed as he came across to her side of the desk. She twisted in her chair a little, reluctant to let him out of her sight.

Plucking the framed photograph from where it was mounted on the wall, Lang's fingernail tapped the glass surface of the picture as he gazed at it. Hermione was startled at his audacity. The man had come into her office uninvited, leered at her, and was now wandering around her office, picking things up with his grimy hands.

Plink, plink, plink. The tapping continued as Lang looked at the picture. Hermione realized it was a wizarding photograph of Blaise and Xander, building a sand castle in Italy. It was one of her favorites, and the sight of Lang touching it twisted her stomach.

"This is Alexander's father, then?" Lang asked suddenly.

"Yes, Blaise Zabini." Replied Hermione, her brow furrowing. "You've met him before, remember? I believe you're friends with his mother, Elena."

Lang looked up suddenly, his blue eyes drilling into her. Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat. Previously, she had categorized the man as a creep, but ultimately insignificant. Now, though, she was beginning to feel threatened, and mentally located her wand. It was in the top, right drawer of her desk, not within easy reach.

"Elena Zabini is an enchanting woman." Lang said suddenly, still staring at her. "Beautiful, but powerful, too."

Hermione nodded slowly, silent. Without looking away, Lang replaced the photograph on its hook, and turned his body towards her. "But power is a funny thing." He continued, his voice falsely casual. "It can come in all shapes and sizes. Some people are powerful because of the people they know. Others have power because of the things that they own. And some people have power because of the things that they can do." At this, he took a slow step forward, bringing himself closer to where Hermione sat.

"Take me, for example. I don't have a big office or house. But I have power because I can change the circumstances of the people I'm in charge of. Sometimes that's the best kind of power, I think. Because no one notices when little things start to happen." He took another slow step towards her, and Hermione slid herself into a standing position, not breaking eye contact. "Little things like slipping a bit of confidential information to certain people."

He took another step, and Hermione took one backwards. "Take the press, for example. They're all in an uproar, thanks to your little trial. Everyone's got an opinion. What if, say, the Daily Prophet were to find out that the 'Zabini- Granger Love Child' was very highly magically gifted. The kind of child that would need special care and attention from his parents. And even then, who's to say that someone from a non- magical could raise such a child? Surely, such a special child would need someone who had grown up in the magical community, surrounded by other magical people."

Hermione forced out a disdainful scoff. "Alexander has been primarily raised her at Hogwarts, one of the most magical places in the world, Mr. Lang."

Lang smiled, shrugged. "You know that. I know that. But people tend to get twitchy when they remember another special young wizard, one who grew up in an unhappy environment, and got certain ideas of grandeur. Tom Riddle is still fresh in a lot of people's minds. Sure, he came from an orphanage. But your little one comes from… what's the term?... oh, yes. A broken home. His single mother, a muggle born witch, who didn't even know to get him tested at first, is in charge of a potentially volatile child. His father is a suspected Death Eater. And his medical records show him spending quite a bit of time in the local hospital wing for various 'accidental' injuries."

Hermione sat, flabbergasted. The sheer audacity of the man's words left her speechless, and in the back of her mind she carefully remembered his accusations.

"What if someone got a hold of that story? Someone from the Prophet, someone with a real talent to sway the minds of their readers. Someone like Reeta Skeeter." Lang smiled cheerily, showing off slightly yellowed teeth.

Hermione glared at the thinly veiled threat. "Skeeter knows better than to cross me."

Lang's smile grew as he took yet another step. At that point, he was only a few feet from her. "I'm going to assume that you haven't read today's addition of the Prophet, my dear, so let me fill you in. There's a small article in the back which has a list of new animagus licenses. Miss Skeeter is on that list. So imagine my surprise when I hear the woman herself had stopped by my department this very day, looking for Alexander's case worker.

"There's a file sitting in my office right now, Ms. Granger, with a full copy of Alexander Granger's records, along with some of my own personal notes. If I were to send that file…well, Ms. Skeeter wouldn't have any trouble writing her article. As a matter of fact, it might just be ready for the front page of this evening's edition of the Prophet. And we both know the importance of public opinion in a case such as this."

For a moment, the room was very still.

Suddenly, Hermione reached for her desk drawer, snatching up her wand. Just as her hand closed around the cool, reassuring piece of wood, Lang lunged for her, grabbing both wrists with his surprisingly strong hands. Using his tight grip to his advantage, he swung her around so that her back was firmly pressed against the stone wall behind her. A second later, he had pinned her with his body. Hermione's mind reeled, shocked that the sudden escalation of events.

"Do you know what Blaise Zabini said to me in the hallway, that day, Ms. Granger?" Lang's mouth was right next to her ear, his hot, foul- smelling breath washing over her face. "He told me not to touch what belonged to him. He told me that 'an insignificant runt like me' shouldn't be allowed to look at you, let alone touch you. But I have news for him, my dear Ms. Granger. Just because he's from one of the Old Families doesn't mean he's powerful. It just means he's a spoiled brat that likes to push other people around. And I for one am sick of being pushed."

With each sentence, Lang's hands held hers tighter until her wand clattered from her hand onto the floor.

"Mr. Lang, please think about what you're doing." Hermione tried to keep her voice strong, but reasonable. "I'll admit, Blaise did speak rashly. But you really don't want to do this. It could lead to an absolute riot, not to mention personal difficulties for my family."

Although Lang was only a few inches taller than Hermione, his height advantage allowed him to leer directly down her body, into the slight gap left by her shirt. "My dear Ms. Granger, it seems you have misunderstood me. I wish you no personal difficulty. As a matter of fact, that's the whole reason I'm here. You see, I wanted to give you a chance to put away this whole, silly mess."

"What do you want?" asked Hermione warily.

"If you comply with my request, I would be more than happy to destroy my correspondence with Ms. Skeeter, never to be spoken of again."

"And your request is?" Hermione prodded, impatient.

Lang's wide, lascivious grin spread across his face again. Instead of speaking right away, he deliberately rocked his hips into hers, and Hermione could feel the unwelcome evidence of his arousal against her hip. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Surely, this scum bag didn't mean…

"You're a beautiful woman, Hermione." Lang said, his nose nuzzling against her ear. "This could be a very beneficial arrangement for both of us. You can sleep easy, knowing the press- and consequently, the public- will continue to back you in the events ahead. You can know I won't testify as a witness at your trial. And I get to bed a lovely young woman. Of course, it's an added bonus that you also happen to be the darling of that ponce, Zabini."

Furious, Hermione attempted to shove her knee into the man's most vulnerable area. Using his slightly- bigger thigh, Lang blocked the attempt. "A good attempt, my dear, but no dice. Besides. I like my women fiery."

Hermione opened her mouth to start screaming, trial or no trial. This had gone on far enough. Then a voice called from the classroom.

"Oi, 'Mione?" Came the voice. "Professor Graaaaangerrr. It's Gred and Forge! You here?"

Just as she began to shout a reply, Lang clamped a hand over her mouth. "Say nothing." He hissed, and Hermione detected a trace of fear in his gaze. Against her will, Hermione and her captor were silent.

For several long moments, she could detect no sound; dread pooled in her stomach and she prayed that the twins hadn't walked away. Then, the door to her office was thrown open, the heavy wood making a solid clunk as it hid the stone wall.

Translations:

"Mi dispiace" (Italian)

-A statement of regret or apology; I'm sorry

"Cara"(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

Chapter Twenty- Four Author's Note:

Hi guys,

Le gasp! Surely you all didn't think I would refrain from a cliffy? Come on, people, you know me better than that by now!

So, Hermione's in a precarious situation with a certain slimy ministry worker, Blaise is gearing up for the big game, and nasty Mrs. Zabini is up to her old tricks. Fear not, though- I already have half of the next chapter written, and hope to post it sometime next week.

The delay for Ch. 24 can be attributed t0 real life (going back to school, starting a new job, general laziness, and moving to a new place). As always, my deepest apologies, and I hope you haven't all given up on me.

We're getting amazingly close to 100 reviews, and I'd like to thank you all for your continued support. Let me know what you think in a review, since I love them!

Until next time, my dears.

Bis Bald (Can you tell I'm taking my first German class this semester?)

Gotbooks93
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Time's Up