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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Time’s Up, by Gotbooks93

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 FOUR

Hermione Granger

If the day had gone differently, maybe Hermione would have kept her cool a little better. If she hadn’t been distributing and grading exams, worrying about her student’s O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores, cleaning up her classroom, attending tiresome meetings, and saving her son’s life, she might not have done what she did. Unfortunately, all of those things did happen that June evening, and the result was both astonishing and unexpected.

In a series of events that was later dubbed “Professor Granger’s Mental Break Down” by spectators, Hermione did several things. Firstly, she leapt from her chair, spinning to face Blaise Zabini, who stood behind her. She then drew her wand, and in a movement too quick to be stopped by anyone, threw a freezing hex at him. With this accomplished, she cast another spell, which resulted in Blaise floating upside down, as if his feet were tied together by an invisible rope. A rope which happened to be attached to the ceiling of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. After both immobilizing and shocking her victim, Hermione Granger turned her wand on the rest of the inhabitants of the wing, many of whom flinched at the fearsome look on her face.

Thankfully, she had only pointed her wand in this direction to cast silencing and cloaking charms, blocking anyone from hearing or seeing behind the invisible wall. Inside the wall, she let loose.

“You want an explanation, Blaise? You want an explanation? Very well, I am more than happy to give you an explanation. See that little boy?” she paused, jabbing a finger at the still- unconscious Xander, “He’s my son. And before you ask, yes, it was your sperm that helped create him. But as far as I’m concerned, that’s the extent of your claim on him. The last night we were together, a month before the final battle, I got pregnant, although I didn’t know it at the time. So while you were off being a bloody coward in Italy, I was suffering the joys of pregnancy, while trying to train for the battle. After that, I dealt with morning sickness, food cravings, aching breasts, and swollen feet on my own.

“And don’t you try to tell me you would have been there if you had known. I still remember what you said that night, after I told you I wouldn’t go to Italy. ‘I don’t know why I wasted my time with someone who’s so blind to the world. Draco was right; I should have dropped you a long time ago. You’ll never be anything more than a stupid, impulsive Gryffindor. I wash my hands of you.’” Hermione’s voice, tight with anger, dropped in pitch in an attempt to mockingly imitate his.

Her eyes had filled with tears again, and her screams became choked sobs as she continued. “I raised a newborn on my own. I was the one that shared a tiny room with a baby, while trying to put myself through school. I was the one that had to baby- proof every surface of that room, and wake up every two hours before he wouldn’t go back to sleep. I was the one to bring him to St. Mungo’s at one in the morning because he had an ear infection, and wouldn’t stop screaming.

“I was the one to comfort him when he had nightmares, and I was the one to look after him when he was sick. I was the one who had to count every knut that I was paid, so I could pay for him to go to a good tutor. I did it all, by myself. And through it all, I suffered the scorn of being an unwed mother, being turned down for jobs again and again and again.” At this, Hermione collapsed into her vacated chair, sobbing.

Blaise Zabini

As Hermione sat back down, the spells she cast on Blaise lifted. He was unceremoniously dropped to the floor, landing with a muffled groan. However, the spells keeping the rest of the room deaf and blind remained.

Slowly getting up, Blaise made his way over to Hermione. He reached toward her, only to find his own hands shaking. Examining his emotions, he found them to be a jumbled mess. As a lawyer, he needed to be in control of his emotions at all times. Any haywire feelings could potentially ruin a case. He had to be strong, in control. Like an outside observer.

‘That’s how I’ll look at this.’ Thought Blaise, ‘Like it’s just another case. Okay, gather your facts.’

Blaise began to mentally assemble a list; they always calmed his nerves and set his mind to order.

1.       Hermione was under the impression that he no longer cared for her, due to some careless comments he had made the last time he saw her.

2.      He and Hermione had a child.

3.      Hermione was adamantly against his involvement with the child, not that that would stop him.

4.      Their child looked undeniably like him, and seemed to be around eight years old, which confirmed Hermione’s claim about the date of her conception.

5.      The child in question was now very much awake, and was looking around in confusion.

The last item on the list jogged him from his emotional withdrawal. Large, amber eyes, so similar to Blaise’s own, had settled on Hermione, who continued to sob in her chair. After a few seconds, something seemed to click within the boy, and he began to struggle under the sheets of the hospital cot. The sheets were pulled tight around him, tucked into the edges of the bed in a way that only mediwitches and house elves seemed to be able to replicate.

After watching the child- his child, he reminded himself; his son- struggle underneath the blankets, Blaise walked steadily over to the side of the bed. As he came closer, the child ceased his struggles under the sheets, watching Blaise with large, wary eyes.

“Good evening,” Blaise greeted in a low, steady voice, like one would use on a startled animal, “or, should I say good morning? I believe it’s after midnight, by now.”

Taking a deep breath, the bed’s occupant collected himself. “You have the same eyes as me,” he said, “and the same hair.”

“Yes, I dare say I do,” Blaise agreed, “both are common traits to be passed down from father to son.”

The boy didn’t seem to be terribly shocked at this statement, as if he had seen it coming. He nodded sagely, just as Hermione emitted another heart- broken sob. At this, the boy began to struggle under his sheets once more, but he wasn’t looking at Hermione anymore. His eyes glared hatefully at Blaise, seeming to bore into his soul.

“Are you the one that made her cry?” he demanded, “What did you say to make Mother this upset? You’ll be sorry! I’ll kill you!”

Blaise was surprised at how deep the child’s words sliced. In the back of his mind, Blaise faintly acknowledged the boy had inherited his mother’s temper. His attention was soon distracted by the boy finally breaking free from his bonds.

Stumbling from the hospital cot, it took him a minute to re- establish his balance. However, he was soon reaching for Hermione’s shoulder, shaking it as he spoke. “Mother? Mother, it’s okay! Please, Mother, don’t cry! Whatever the man said, it’s not true! I’m still here, Mother! Mother!” his voice became more desperate with each moment that Hermione didn’t respond.

It was the desperation in the boy’s voice that spurred Blaise into action. Brushing off the boy’s hands from Hermione’s shoulders, he plucked her from the chair. Holding her by the top of her arms, he gave her a quick, hard shake. This seemed to jog Hermione from her crying, and she looked up at him with red, swollen eyes.

“Hermione, that is enough.” Blaise said firmly. “We obviously have a lot to talk about, but right now you need to get a hold of yourself.”

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but instantly snapped it shut when she heard the voice of her son.

“Mother? Are you alright now?” he asked tentatively, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“Oh, Xander,” Hermione crooned, shrugging out of Blaise’s grasp and engulfing the boy in her arms. “I’m alright now. I’m sorry for getting so worked up, I know I scared you. Shhh, darling, everything is fine now. Shhh.”

~(o)~

After being thoroughly scolded by Poppy for ‘disturbing patients who needed rest’ Hermione was allowed to take Xander home. Blaise hovered close by the entire time, following them silently to their private quarters. Hermione didn’t say anything, although she could feel his eyes on her. Xander didn’t seem to be aware of anything besides his own two feet as he shuffled along the stone corridors.

As soon as the trio entered the dark rooms, he disappeared into the pitch- black corridor, heading for his bedroom. Hermione would have been concerned, but she knew her son had the uncanny ability to navigate in the dark.

Glancing at the clock on the living room wall, Hermione sighed as she saw the time. It was half past two in the morning, and she wanted to sleep. One glance over her shoulder, however, showed Blaise looking around the room, no hint of fatigue in his stance.

Hermione wandlessly lit candles as she made her way to the kitchen, hearing the quiet steps made by Blaise’s shoes behind her.

Hermione gestured vaguely to one of the kitchen chairs. Turning away from him, she ambled over to the sink, filling it with water from the tap. She lit the burner with her wand, and set the kettle on top. Her movements were slow and sloppy, showing her weariness.

Settling into the chair at the head of the table, Blaise folded his hands on the top. Glancing down, he looked at the rough patterns in the wood, a circular burn mark next to his fingers. One corner of the table had a small chunk taken out of the wood, and Blaise idly fingered the jagged edge.

“Accidental magic incident.” Hermione said, nodding to the table.

“Xander?” Blaise asked, frowning. “That’s rather extreme, for a child his age. He must have been in a fierce temper when it happened.”

“No worse than usual,” Hermione said, shrugging as she took the whistling kettle off the stove. “His magic is very strong for a child, but that’s not really a surprise, if you look at both of us. Normally he’s very calm, but when he loses it… well, he really loses it… I remember one time, we were at my parent’s house and I told him he couldn’t have any cake because he hadn’t finished his dinner. He was five, maybe six, and had been in a nasty mood all day. Anyway, he ended up shattering every window in the house. I fixed them all, mind you, but I think it came as a shock to my parents. Before, they just saw him as their grandchild. After… well, I think it reminded them that he was a wizard.”

While she spoke, Hermione mindlessly prepared two mugs of tea. She poured liberal amounts of sugar and milk into hers, and left the second mug alone. She slid it toward Blaise, but stopped before it reached his side of the table.

“Er, do you still take your tea black?” Hermione asked awkwardly, shifting her eyes away from Blaise’s own.

Blaise chuckled lowly. “Yes, I do. If I’m drinking tea instead of coffee, it might as well be strong.”

Hermione gave a slight smile, not even trying resisting the opportunity to tease him. “Still addicted to coffee, then?”

Relaxing into the old tradition, Blaise didn’t even have to think about his standard response. “Cara, I’ve been drinking coffee since I was thirteen. I don’t plan on stopping any time soon.” They both paused at the Italian pet name, before he continued, his usually smooth voice strained. “But enough talk about me. We need to talk about you. And, um, Xander.”

“It’s short for Alexander.” Hermione explained, avoiding his eyes.

“My middle name.” Blaise said quietly, emotion welling up inside of him.

“Yes. Well, I thought it was a nice name, even before he was born.”

“Continue.” He urged, his eyes settling on her.

“He was born on June 8^th, at 3 a.m. and weighed 3.4 kilograms. I was in labor for seventeen hours, and the mediwitches wouldn’t give me anything for the pain, because he was already overdue…but when he was born…Merlin, he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.” Her voice choked, Hermione covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. “He was all covered in blood and placenta, and screaming his head off, but I was so happy to see him. He was healthy, and had all ten of his fingers and toes. I couldn’t have asked for more. He’s grown up to be so… I don’t know. He’s really quite serious, most of the time…like you,” she admitted. “So it’s strange that his best friend is that joker, Teddy Lupin- you remember Professor Lupin, and his wife Nymphadora Tonks, right?”

“The clumsy metamorphosis- turned- auror?” Blaise asked, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Yes. They both died in the war, so he lives with the Potters, now. Xander keeps him in line, most of the time, although, the other day they both got in trouble at Xander’s tutoring center the other day, for trying to blow up a toilet…”

Coming back to herself, Hermione glanced up to see Blaise put his head in his hands. “I’ve missed so much.” He whispered. “All the firsts. All the big moments in his life, I’ve missed them. And I’ll never get them back.” Then, suddenly he looked up, his eyes blazing. “But I’m not missing any more, Hermione. I don’t care what I have to do, but I will be a part of my son’s life. You know I’m an attorney, and a damn good one, at that. So we can draw up some rules and agreements out of court, or I can take you to court, and get full custody of Alexander. It’s your choice.”

With that, Blaise stood, towering over her frozen form. He turned to go, but hesitated, placing a large hand on Hermione’s arm. “Don’t force my hand, Hermione. Just work with me, and we’ll figure things out.”

Hermione listened to his quiet footsteps move through the rooms, and the quiet click of the door.

Then, for the second time that night, Hermione Granger burst into tears.

Ch.4 Author’s Note:

Hey Guys,

Pretty intense chapter, eh? As I’m sure many of you noticed, it’s about a thousand words shorter than usual. However, I’m going to post a second chapter in a minute, so you’ll get a double dose of Time’s Up. I think I’ll start posting twice a week from now on, on Mondays and Fridays. I have fourteen chapters written at this point, so there’s plenty to go around.

TTYL,

Gotbooks93
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