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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
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 FIVE

Hermione Granger

Hermione wandered off to bed sometime after three o’clock in the morning, feeling more tired than she had in a long time. Her eyes hurt from so much crying, and her muscles ached. Falling into her bed, she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

When Hermione woke several hours later, she had the ache that came with staying in one place for a long time. At first, Hermione wasn’t sure what had woken her. Then she heard it, a repeated banging on the front door. Hermione, unsure of the time, had just swung her legs over the side of her bed when she heard Xander’s quiet footsteps pad down the hall.

Slipping into her robe, Hermione followed the sounds of talking. Entering her living room, she found a sight that she thought she would never see. Standing on the left side of the room, his back to the bookshelf, was Xander. However, that wasn’t what shocked her. Standing across from him was Draco Malfoy.

Turning towards her, Malfoy’s eyes went wide before he gave his usual smarmy smirk. “Wow, Granger. Not exactly Sleeping Beauty, then?” he said sarcastically, eyeing her untamed hair and the red imprint on her face left by her pillow.

“Hey.” They both turned to Xander, who had his arms crossed now. “Watch what you say about my mother.”

Eyebrows raised, Malfoy turned back to the seven year----

Freezing, Hermione suppressed a scream. Today was Xavier’s eighth birthday. Shit. Shitshitshitshit.

She had started off her baby boy’s birthday in the hospital wing, followed by the unexpected divulgence of his father’s identity, followed by her own emotional breakdown. She was a horrible mother!

Spinning to look at the living room’s clock, Hermione was relieved to find it was only nine in the morning. Xander had most likely slept in after all the excitement that night, and Hermione knew his fondness for a good lie- in.

Maybe it wasn’t too late. She turned back around to find Malfoy and Xander looking at her.

“Well, I better go get ready for the day! Since, you know, it’s so important and everything.” Hermione said hurriedly, forcing a smile.

Spinning on her heel, she bolted back down the hall, leaving the other two behind. She rocketed inside her bathroom, taking the world’s shortest shower. Charming her hair dry and tame, she brushed her teeth and threw open the doors to her wardrobe. Glancing past the curtains on the windows, she saw the sky was a clear, bright blue, without a cloud in sight.

Hermione selected a red and white patterned sundress, and quickly applied some light makeup. ‘This is not for Blaise.’ Hermione told herself firmly. ‘I just want to look nice for Xander’s birthday, because I know the Creevey brothers will be taking pictures. This is not for Blaise.’

Her appearance corrected in fifteen minutes, Hermione hurried back out into the living room. As she passed Xander’s door, she could hear him rustling around inside.

She smiled at the various signs on the door, several of which were gifts from Charlie Weasley. He and her son shared a fascination with magical creatures, and Xander always attached himself to Charlie’s side when he visited. One sign on the door, read, “HERE BE DRAGONS”, with smaller type along the bottom: “Knocking is suggested for those who value their lives”. Magically illustrated dragons snaked in and out of the boarders of the parchment. Another sign, which had the childish drawings of skulls and monsters, read “Alexander T. Granger, the scariest kid I know. KNOCK FIRST!!!” This one had been made by Teddy Lupin, and Xander had proudly pinned the sign up on the door. Apparently, her son took pride in being ‘the scariest kid’ Teddy knew.

She wondered about Xander, sometimes.

Hurrying to the kitchen, Hermione stopped in the doorway. Her mouth twisted unhappily at the blond occupant.

“Still here then, are you?” she drawled in a rather good imitation of Malfoy’s own voice.

“Obviously. Blaise sent me in his stead, but he’ll be here quite soon. He says he wants to know what to get the kid for his birthday. Since, you know, he missed out on the last eight years of his life and doesn’t even know what kind of things he likes, thanks to you.” Malfoy finished hatefully, glaring at Hermione as she bustled around the kitchen.

Pausing at the sink, she faced the window as she asked her question. “Oh. H-he said that, did he?”

“No, he did not.” A voice came from the doorway, causing Hermione and Draco to spin around.

“He did, however, ask what to get Alexander for his birthday, as he was not sure of his interests.” Said Blaise as he strode into the kitchen.

“Well, perhaps I can show you what I’ve gotten him, and you can-” Hermione began, only to be cut off.

“Oh. You’re back.” Said Xander, as he spotted Blaise. He seemed to be suppressing a smile, and his eyes were locked on his father, taking in the expensive- looking suit and shiny shoes.

“Yes, I am,” replied Blaise, giving a genuine smile. “I would think that seeing you on your birthday would be rather important, don’t you think?”

Xander gave a quick, jerky nod, which told Hermione he was repressing some powerful emotion beneath his mask of calm.

“Well,” said Hermione, unnerved by the prolonged eye contact between her son and his father, “before anything else, we have something to do. Xander, any ideas?”

Xander’s sudden smile made her want to sigh in relief. Even though he now had a new, shiny parent to explore, he didn’t want to abandon their old tradition.

“Mother, we still have to make a birthday breakfast.” Xander said factually.

“Exactly, darling.” Hermione confirmed, turning towards their magical icebox. Collecting eggs, bacon, sausage, and tomatoes. “Xander, will you grab the ingredients for crumpets?” she said over her shoulder.

When she heard no response, she glanced away from the icebox. Xander was frozen in place, looking inexplicably anxious. Swallowing hard, he turned to Blaise. “You- you’ll stay, right? We can make enough for all of us.” He said, glancing over to Malfoy.

“I’m not,” said Malfoy, standing from the table. “But I’ll be around in time for your party at one.” With a nod to Blaise and a sneer to Hermione, he left the room. A few seconds later, the sound of the floo flared up, before dying down.

“I’d be pleased to stay, provided it’s okay with your mother.” Responded Blaise, his eyes cutting over to Hermione.

She was greatly tempted to tell him to leave. She wanted this old tradition between herself and Xander to remain as it always had; the two of them eating a full, proper English breakfast at the kitchen table, talking and laughing. At the same time, however, she knew Blaise was using this as a sort of test. Hermione had known him long enough to know how he played his mind- games with the people around him. Last night, he had been clear enough about his desire to be a part of Xander’s life, and this would most likely set a precedent in his mind for her behavior.

“Yes, you’re welcome to join us.” Hermione said after a long silence. “Xander, the flour is under the cabinet.”

With this, the tension in the kitchen dissipated, and Xander’s mouth split into a smile as he reached under the cabinet. Hermione saw Blaise standing, hands folded behind his back. While his face showed no acute discomfort, she knew he was feeling out of place, and hated this feeling. With a quiet exhale, Hermione made a choice. She knew his words from the night before were true; Blaise held great sway in the Wizengamot, as well as the rest of the Ministry. If he wanted to, he could take Xander from her, no matter how hard she fought. The Ministry was still full of pureblood bureaucrats, who would undoubtedly side with him over Hermione. But maybe they could make this work, and she was willing to do just about anything to keep her little boy with her. As much as Hermione hated the idea of sharing her beloved child with someone else, it was time to act like an adult.

“Blaise, could you possibly help me with these tomatoes?” Hermione said softly, making eye contact with the man. Desperately hoping that he would see that she was trying.

~(o)~

‘She’s trying.’ Blaise thought in relief as he looked over at Hermione.

Shrugging out of his suit jacket and rolling up his shirtsleeves, he kept eye contact with Hermione. His… what was Hermione now? He wondered. ‘I could easily say what she used to be. A partner, firstly. Then a friend, then a lover.’ He may have added the words ‘soul mate’ to the list nine years ago, but things had changed.

‘She’s… she’s a partner, again, I suppose,’ he mused internally. ‘Although, this time we aren’t paired for a school assignment. We’re doing something so much more important. We’re raising our child.’

His eyes flicked over to his son, and he smiled unconsciously. He stood at the counter, precisely measuring out cups of flour into a bowl. His small eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and his mouth was twisted. In looks and attitude, Xander was often a replica of Blaise himself. However, many of his actions and expressions were solely picked up from Hermione.

His eyes returned to the woman in question, who fidgeted under his gaze. Walking over to the counter she leaned against, he gently gathered the tomatoes from her hands. He conjured a knife and cutting board, and began to calmly slice the red fruits.

The quick, steady rhythm of his chopping seemed to spur Hermione back into action, and she quickly cracked a few eggs into the waiting fry pan.

As he chopped, Blaise snuck looks at Hermione. ‘She’s still so beautiful,’ mused Blaise. ‘Although she looks quite different.’ Although he had seen Hermione only hours before, his thoughts had been clouded by rage. Finding her bent over their son, who was obviously injured, had nearly driven him mad. Learning that he had missed her pregnancy, the first steps and words of their child… the feeling sliced at his heart. He hadn’t really looked at Hermione last night.

She had put on a few pounds, that was obvious. But somehow the weight suited her. When they were teenagers, Blaise always worried that she was too thin. He knew her tendency to skip meals when she was immersed in a project, and did his best to get her to eat when they saw each other. The weight had settled around her hips and breasts, which were fuller than they used to be. Her hair was in soft curls, and Blaise decided she had found a charm that could finally tame it. However, a part of him missed the wild, frizzy tangle from their teen years. It had always entranced him, her hair. There were new lines around her eyes and mouth, but Blaise hoped they were caused by years of laughter, rather than stress. But considering what she had screamed at him in the hospital wing- he wasn’t so sure.

Feeling the weight of his eyes on her, Hermione glanced in his direction. Giving a faint smile, he held up the chopping board of perfectly sliced tomatoes. Gathering them from his hands, Hermione tossed them into a frying pan. Wordlessly, she motioned to the eggs, and he stepped up next to her, taking a spatula from her hand.

They stood side by side next to the stove, occasionally flipping or stirring the contents of their respective pans. Surprisingly, neither felt the awkward discomfort they expected.

“Mother,” came Xander’s voice after a few minutes of quiet. “What now?”

Hermione turned off the burner to her side of the stove, and wandered over to Xander. He had easily blended his ingredients together, following the proscribed recipe to perfection. Turning off his own burner, Blaise looked into the mixing bowl.

“Looks perfect,” he commented. “Keep this up and you’ll be good at potions when you get older.” Xander beamed at the praise.

“Now, we need to form these into the right shape.” Said Hermione. “Darling, grab one of the cookie sheets from the cabinet, will you?”

Reaching into the bowl, Hermione put a large handful into Blaise’s hands. Too late, she realized he still wore his expensive- looking watch.

“May I?” Hermione asked, gesturing to his wrist. Blaise nodded slowly, and Hermione began to remove the offending accessory. They both gasped when Hermione’s finger slid between his wrist and the watch, their eyes darting to meet.

‘Her touch still affects me.’ Thought Blaise dazedly. ‘Just like always.’

Hermione quickly broke their visual connection, and hurriedly finished taking the watch off. Setting it on the window ledge, she turned back towards the mixing bowl, only to find Xander’s eyes fixed on them, a cookie tray in his hands.

“So,” said Xander quietly, turning his attention to Blaise. “How did the two of you meet?”

“School. But you already knew that.” Hermione said, her voice gently chiding.

“Oh?” Blaise said, his voice held a strange note. “What else does he know about us- about me?”

Xander, his eyes darting between his tense parents, took a tentative step towards the doorway. “Hold on a minute, okay?” he asked, not waiting for a response before he hurried out of the room.

“What have you told him, Hermione?” Blaise hissed, obviously furious. “I swear to Merlin, if you’ve warned him against his big, bad Slytherin father-”

“Oh, shut up Blaise.” Hermione hissed back, her tone icy. “I’ve barely told him anything. Nothing that could sway him either direction. Honestly, what kind of a mother do you think I am?”

Before Blaise could answer the rhetorical question, Xander dashed back in, a piece of parchment in hand.

Looking warily at Hermione, Xander began to unfold the paper. There were deep creases in it, showing it had been folded and unfolded over and over.

“I have a list of anything she’s ever told me about you.” Xander said to his father, his voice uncharacteristically rushed. “I think she might have said other stuff when I was younger, but this is from the last few years, since I could write.” Swallowing hard, he glanced at Hermione. Her face was shocked and ashen- looking.

“Mother, please don’t be angry. I did- did- didn’t want to forget anything.” As he spoke, his voice became choked, and tears began to run down his face. His mother’s distress had always upset him in turn, and the look of betrayal on her face was almost too much.

“Hey,” said his father, glancing at Hermione. “How about we all put breakfast on hold for a moment?” He gently cupped Hermione’s elbow, steering her into the living room. Settling her onto the couch, Blaise held his hand out to Xander. Without hesitation, the boy grasped it, letting his father settle him onto the couch between himself and his mother.

“About this list.” Said Blaise, glancing at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. “I’d love to hear it, but I think you should tell your mother how much you love her, first.”

“I do, Mother.” Xander said hurriedly, swiping at the tears that continued to roll down his cheeks. “I love you more than anything. More than books or dragons or Teddy or anything! I just wanted to know him. That’s all. Just know him.” His voice cracked on the last word, and Blaise reached over and gave the back of his son’s neck a soft squeeze of reassurance.

~(o)~

Turning to her son, Hermione attempted to compose herself. She had never known that Xander was so transfixed with the little details she said about Blaise. In her mind, she had always thought that the two of them were a good team; that Xander was just fine without his father in his life. But apparently, she was wrong. The acute sorrow on her little boy’s face was breaking her heart, and she could see the longing to have his father in his life .

She had thought she was doing the right thing by keeping Blaise out of the picture, but how much sorrow could she have saved her child if she had just sent the message that would bring Blaise rushing back to them? Sure, her own feelings had been crushed the night of Xander’s conception, the sting of Blaise’s harsh words sharp as knives. But in the years since Hermione liked to think she had gotten over it, and let her broken heart be healed. Blaise wasn’t a cruel person by nature, and she knew now that he hadn’t truly meant what he said. But now things were different.

Before, she had decided to let Blaise in because she was afraid of losing Xander. Now, she would try to let him in for the sake of her little boy. Because when she saw how much Xander had yearned for his father, and refused to get in the way of the two.

“Don’t cry little one. ” Hermione said, her voice thick with remorse. “I’m not angry. I’m just… I guess I couldn’t see that you need both me and your dad in your life. But things are going to be different now, darling. Shhh, little one, don’t cry.”

Gathering Xander into her arms, Hermione gently rocked the child back and forth. Over his head, Hermione locked eyes with Blaise. He gave a watery smile, quickly dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. Clearing his throat, Blaise tugged on one of Xander’s curls.

“Now,” he said, his voice peaceful. “I’d like to see what your silly mother has said about me.”

Unfolding the parchment again, Xander began to read off the tidbits Hermione had said over the years. Having learned to write at the early age of five, Xander had collected quite a number of facts. Some of the earlier facts had obviously been crossed out and re- written in a neater hand, and Hermione smiled at her son’s perfectionism.

“One:” Xander said, his voice tinted with a hint of nervousness. “My father has hair and eyes like mine. Two: he likes coffee a lot, and doesn’t like oranges. Three: Today, Uncle Harry started saying something like “Zab” but Mother cut him off. Father’s name might have started with something like “Zab”. Four: Father liked to dance. Mother told me today, after she put on some music, and said it was by someone named Frank Sinatra. Five: I think Father liked to read, too…” Xander continued on, and Hermione was shocked by how many things she had let slip about Blaise over the past three years.

Blaise largely kept his responses to Xander’s list to chuckles or silence. Twice, he interjected to comment, much to Xander’s delight. After fact number sixteen (“I think Father isn’t British. Today, Mother said “You’re just like your father. He never could appreciate a proper plate of fish and chips. But then, they don’t eat them much, where he’s from.”) Blaise informed Xander of his heritage.

“My mother, Elena, is full blooded Italian. I was raised by her, so I speak Italian fluently. You’ll meet her eventually.”

“What about your father?” Xander asked.

“He’s not Italian.” Blaise said, his tone signaling the end of the subject.

‘He always did have daddy problems.’ Mused Hermione, suppressing a smile.

The other interjection came at fact number twenty- one. (“I’m almost sure Father was in Slytherin house at Hogwarts. I was staying at Teddy’s house today, and his Grandma Andromeda said I had some Slytherin characteristics. I told her not to tell Mother, because she was in Gryffindor. Then, Andromeda laughed, and said that my other parent would be proud of me.”)

Blaise chuckled. “Yes, I was in Slytherin growing up. But Alexander, I’ll be proud of you, no matter what house you’re sorted into. Even if it’s Gryffindor.” He mock- shivered in horror, causing Xander to laugh.

“No,” Hermione said, tugging on one of Xander’s curls playfully. “He’s a Slytherin through and through.” She smiled fondly anyway, hoping to ease Xander’s mind. Abruptly, the memory of Xander’s illusion of the spilled water glass sprang to mind. Not wanting to think about it, Hermione mentally shoved it from her mind. Her little boy was completely normal, and that was that.

Xander got to number thirty-one (“Mother says Father didn’t get nervous over exams, either.”) before he ran out. Looking up at his father, Xander said “That’s it.”

“Not a bad start, I suppose. But it’s hardly fair. You know all kinds of things about me from your mother, and I don’t know very much about you.”

“You can ask me things, if you like.” Said Xander, suppressing a pleased smile.

“Hmmm. Very well. How about this: I’ll ask you something, and you can ask me something in return. My first question is this: what are the top things you would like for your birthday?”

Xander immediately answered. “A copy of ‘From Egg to Inferno: a Dragon-Keeper's Guide’ by C.H. Zozoya, a new set of color quills, with really cool colors, like turquoise, and a trip to Magical Menagerie to get a pet.” Xander shot Hermione a disgruntled look as he said the last one, and Hermione made sure to set her face in an unyielding mask.

“No.” she said.

“But Mother-” Xander said, his voice pleading.

“No. You won’t take care of it properly, and we don’t have the room for most magical animals, anyway.”

Xander looked ready to continue the age- old argument, until Blaise smoothly cut in. “I believe it’s your turn for a question, Alexander.” He said, immediately gaining the boy’s attention.

“Um. Okay. Um. What… what do I call you? Most of my classmates call their fathers ‘dad’ but I call Mother ‘mother’ so maybe I could just call you ‘father’?”

Blaise confirmed in the affirmative, and Hermione stood. The other two stayed on the couch,, continuing their game of questions.

Moving back into the kitchen, Hermione cast a charm to re- heat the tomatoes, eggs, bacon, and sausage that still sat on the stove. The three of them had spent more than an hour in the living room, leaving the breakfast perpetrations to cool. She quickly put a batch of crumpets into the oven, and set the table for breakfast… or, rather ‘brunch’ as it was now eleven o’clock. The food was soon ready and on the table.

“Blaise, Xander! Breakfast!” Hermione called into the other room, feeling the peculiarity of calling them both to the table. But, by the way things were looking, she better get used to it.

Ch. 5 Author’s Note:

Hey guys,

Yay! No big cliffy this time. I was going to leave it at “So,” said Xander quietly, turning his attention to Blaise. “How did the two of you meet?” but decided that was mean.

Please leave a review! They made me so, so happy. And a happy author tends to post more chapters (Is it bribery? Yes. Do I care? Nope!) Next update should be on Friday, so I'll see you all then.

XOXO,

Gotbooks93
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