Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 5
- 6
- 7
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 SIX

The party had gone quite well, over all. Xander currently sat at the head of the staff table, silently categorizing his gifts. Glancing at the small piles around his chair, Hermione strove to make sense of her son’s sorting.

In a pile to Xander’s left was a collection of toys- gifts that were undeniably made for a wizarding boy Xander’s age. However, it was this pile that Xander showed the least interest in. There was a bundle of one- trick wands- courtesy of Lisa Turpin, and a wizarding picture book, depicting the adventures of Merlin, which came from Professor Fenster. Next to this was a set of enchanted Quidditch figurines, given by Professor Benley, with a discarded Weasley- made sweater next to it. A book on Quidditch techniques had come from Ron. Admittedly, all of these presents were good attempts to find something most eight year old boys liked, but apparently their owners were unaware that Xander was not ‘most boys’ . Hermione was grateful that the people who had given these gifts were no longer present, as she was mildly embarrassed at her son’s utter disinterest.

To his right, however, Xander carefully placed several items. A Herbology kit, courtesy of Neville Longbottom, included all the components to grow a Venus Fly Trap. Hermione had shifted uneasily at the morbid interest Xander had given that gift, and decided to set the kit aside for a few years.

Also included in the pile was a collection of armature books from various staff members, all concerning the subject they taught. Hagrid’s gift was a copy of ‘From Egg to Inferno: a Dragon-Keeper's Guide’ which pleased Xander immensely- Hermione was just glad it wasn’t another copy of The Monster Book of Monsters.

Charlie Weasley had shown up unexpectedly, much to Xander’s delight. His gift was a small t-shirt for the boy, with “Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup!” written on the front. Fred and George had (predictably) given a collection of child- friendly fireworks, and Pansy and Ginny had gotten him a new set of robes, which they declared made him look “dashing”. Bill and his family had gotten Xander a dragon tooth on a leather band; much like the one Bill wore around his neck. Naturally, Xander immediately donned the accessory, much to everyone’s amusement.

Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas had gotten Xander a pot of hair gel, which was quickly confiscated by Hermione, who shot a glare at the men. “He’s eight.” She reminded, and affectionately stroked her son’s soft, curly head. There was no way her baby was putting that crap in his hair. Sulking in the corner with Pansy was Draco Malfoy, who deemed it appropriate to give Hermione’s eight year old a sneakoscope.

“What, exactly, is my child going to do with a sneakoscope, Malfoy?” Hermione asked, offended.

“He lives in a school with a bunch of stupid teenagers, Granger,” Malfoy drawled, “I’m sure it will find some use.”

The pile directly in front of Xander obviously contained his favorite presents. The Creevy brothers had gifted a dozen muggle disposable cameras, to the confusion of the assembled crowd. “You have to start ‘muggle’ to get a decent talent going.” Colin explained. “All the best wizarding photographers did it that way.” Xander had already used up one of the cameras, taking shots of the people he loved. A few abstract shots had made it onto the film, and Hermione was pleased to see him taking an interest in something artistic.

From Teddy Lupin and the Potters, Xander had received a personalized wizarding chess set, with one of the kings looking much like Xander, himself. The other king was obviously Teddy, as the hair on the figurine constantly changing. . Teddy’s ‘court’ of pieces was already assigned, with all the Potters and most of the Weasleys taking their roles. The other pieces were face-less, ready to be set into the people of Xander’s choice. Hagrid had already been assigned as a rook, and Charlie Weasley was one of the dashing knights. Hermione was assigned as a bishop, with Blaise as the other one. Hermione initially felt uneasy by the extravagant and expensive gift, until Harry pulled the ‘Godfather’ card. When paired with Teddy’s exclamation that Xander was his ‘best mate’ Hermione relented.

With the last of the party- goers trickling out the door, Hermione turned to her eight year old.

“I think we should be getting home.” She said, “Your father is probably waiting for you.”

“He’s waiting for you, too.” Xander said absentmindedly, messing with one of his disposable cameras.

Hermione fought the urge to show any emotion at the statement; Xander had pulled this sort of thing before. He would distractedly say something shocking or surprising, and watch the physical response of his audience. Hermione turned around, packing away some discarded wrapping paper while keeping her face carefully blank.

“Well, yes, I suppose he is waiting for me,” Hermione mused, “as I’m the one with the keys to the door, hmm?”

She caught a flash of disappointment on her son’s face as he gathered up his presents into a bag. Merlin knew what went through that boy’s head.

~(o)~

That evening, Hermione, Blaise, and Xander were snuggled into the couch, the fire blazing and a small stack of presents on the coffee table. Hermione tried not to roll her eyes at the Hallmark picture they created.

“Mine first,” Hermione said, lightly tugging on one of Xander’s curls. She handed him a small package, which contained a set of color quills and Xander’s copy of The Young Person’s Guide to Magical Creatures. Xander meticulously examined the quills, muttering about creating diagrams. He also received several pieces of new clothes, much to his disinterest, and a beautiful new watch, which showed the time in places all around the world. He delighted in telling his parents that it was “One- forty five in India, and three in the afternoon in New York City.”

After thanking his mother for her gifts, Xander turned expectantly to his father, eyes shining and brows rose.

“Yes?” Blaise asked, raising a brow in question.

“Father, did you get me anything?” Xander asked, practically vibrating in his seat with excitement.

“Why would I get you something?” Blaise asked, feigning confusion.

“Oh.” Xander said, shoulders slumping. “I mean, your being here is present enough, because I’m quite happy you came-”

Laughing, Blaise cut the boy off, mussing Xander’s hair affectionately. “Of course I got you something, Alexander.” He said, smiling as he reached into the pocket of his coat. “I would hardly be a good father if I neglected your birthday.” Withdrawing an envelope, Blaise handed it to Xander and sat back to watch.

Xander tore the envelope open, extracting a stiff, expensive- looking card, and a platinum ring. Xander quickly began to read the words on the card aloud, holding the ring in his left hand.

“Alexander,” he read, “Happy birthday. I’m so sorry I’ve missed the ones of the past, but I hope we can make up for it in the years to come. The en- enclosed ring is something I would have given you on your sixth birthday, as pureblood tradition dic- dic- dictates. However, it’s better late than never. It is your family ring, which pureblood boys wear at all times. If you look closely, you’ll notice your initials are ins- inscribed on the side. On the inside is our family name, Zabini, as well as the family crest. Trust me; this ring will get you out of more trouble than you know.” Hermione could see the pride in Blaise’s eyes as his son read, and beamed when the boy rounded out the more advanced words, only stuttering a little.

“You’ll wear it until you get older and finally meet the girl you wish to marry. The ring also serves as a promise ring, although I can’t imagine you’re particularly interested in girls at this point.” Xander broke off, declaring, “Um, no, Father, girls are gross and like pink. Why would I like a girl?” Shaking his head in childish frustration, Xander continued reading. “But my gift comes in two parts. The ring is the first part, and you’ll have to ask your mother for the second. You’re welcome.

“Alexander, I know you’ll grow into an intelligent and wonderful man someday. I relish the opportunity to witness it. Your father, Blaise Zabini.”

Xander spun around so fast Hermione was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. “What is it mother? What is it?” Hermione laughed at her son’s uncharacteristic exuberance, smoothing her hand over his hair.

“It seems your father has managed to accomplish something I never would have predicted.” Hermione said, her lips pursed. “We’ll all be making a trip to Magical Menagerie this weekend.” Cutting off her son’s shout of excitement, Hermione pressed on, her voice stubborn. “But there are rules. Nothing smaller than my hand, no rodents, and nothing taller than Albus.”

Xander paused, seemed to think, and grinned. “I can work with that.” He said, grinning. That grin made Hermione bite her lip in worry, but was quickly replaced by a smile as she saw Xander hug Blaise.

“Thank you, Father.” Xander said against Blaise’s chest, his voice calmed to its usual smooth tenor. “For the ring and the pet. I’ll wear the ring every day, but I’m not giving it to any stupid girls.”

Holding his son to him, Blaise savored the sweet moment. “You’re welcome, Alexander. Happy birthday.”

Leaning back, Xander fingered the piece of cardstock. Looking up suddenly, he looked up, brows furrowed. “Father, how did you manage to convince mother to let me have a pet?”

Hermione tried not to flush as she thought back to earlier that day.

~(o)~

At around noon, Xander departed the table, leaving his parents to clean up the mess left behind. The tabletop looked vaguely like the food version of a battle field, with half- eaten sausages, a decimated pan of eggs, and spots of jam all over the table. Hermione almost called her son back to help clear the table but let it go, due to his birthday.

“So, about Alexander’s birthday gift,” Blaise said from where he was seated across the table. “How about you tell me what you got him, and maybe we can come up with something.”

“Er, yes, okay. Ummm, I got him a book on magical creatures. He’s really fascinated by them- although I blame Charlie Weasley for that one. Um, and I got him some color quills, like he asked, and a watch. He’s constantly asking for the time, so I think he’ll be pleased with that. And then some clothes, which he needs because he’s growing so fast- I can barely keep up!” Hermione shook her head with a small smile. “And of course he wants a pet, which is not going to happen.”

“About that-” Blaise began.

“No, Blaise.” Hermione shook her head.

“Oh, come on cara, let the boy have a pet.” Blaise wheedled, smiling indulgently at her stubborn expression. “I had Brutus and Duke when I was growing up, and it did me a world of good.”

“Oh, Merlin, please don’t mention Duke and Brute to Xander. He’ll become obsessed with having a dog, and we don’t have the space.”

“Well, then, get him something smaller. An owl, or a cat. I know you love that ugly beast you insist on keeping. Actually, where is Crookshanks?” Blaise glanced around the room, looking for signs of the half- kneazle.

“He died when Xander was two.” Hermione sighed wistfully. “I suppose we never got around to getting another cat. Oh, but Crooks was so good with Xander. Never minded when he pulled on his tail, and always slept next to Xander’s crib.”

“Well, there you go. Get another cat, maybe a full- blood kneazle this time. Keeping a pet teaches responsibility.”

“But then we’ll have to train it, and what if it meows all the time?” Hermione asked.

“Well, then get him something else. A rabbit, maybe. Or a rat.” Blaise said, leaning back with a smile.

“No rats.” Hermione said quickly, her mind flashing to Peter Pettigrew. The little man, begging forgiveness pathetically when she was fourteen, and standing aside as she was tortured when she was eighteen.

“Ah, yes. No rats. I apologize, that was thoughtless of me.” Blaise sat up straight, his thoughts wandering to Draco’s gory description of Pettigrew’s death. “Look, all I’m saying is the boy deserves a pet. I’ll pay for its purchase and all the supplies, and we can both go to help him pick out one that’s… appropriate.”

Looking hard at Blaise, she dropped her head and massaged her temples. “Fine. But he’s not allowed to have anything too big. Or too small, I don’t want something we can’t find if it escapes. And you have to back me up about the rat thing. And if anything goes wrong, you’re taking it back to the shop.” Hermione let out a long sigh, already regretting her acquiescence.

“Good.” Blaise said, trying to keep his victorious smirk from his face.

Standing, Hermione gathered the plates and made her way over to the sink. Stacking them in the bottom, she suppressed the urge to get the work done with magic. Doing things the muggle way helped her sort things out, mentally. Turning around, she was startled by Blaise, who stood behind her with a dirty pan in his hands. Sliding around Hermione, he placed the pan in the other side of the sink, and poured in soap. Grabbing a sponge, he set to work. Hermione took a moment to really look at her ex.

He stood in the sunlight that poured in through the kitchen window, and was elbow- deep in soap bubbles. His wide, full mouth and Roman nose complimented his high cheekbones and clean- shaven face. His hair was longer than it used to be, and dark, twisting ringlets of black hair drifted down over his brow. It was cut so that it curled along the back of his neck, almost touching the collar of his white button down shirt. The shirt was without a tie, giving an unobstructed outline of Blaise’s muscled chest, which lead down to slim hips. Through the bubbles, Hermione could see chorded muscles in Blaise’s forearms, and the large hand that held the scrubbing sponge had long, square ended fingers.

“You know, cara, staring is considered rude in most societies.” Blaise murmured, his gaze remaining on the pan he was scrubbing.

“I- I wasn’t staring!” Hermione insisted, feeling her cheeks warm. “I was just trying to figure out how to tell you- er- you have jam on your face!” It was true; there was a tiny smudge of jam at the corner of his mouth.

“Ah, I see.” Blaise said, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Well, are you going to help me clean it up or have me walk around with jam on my face?” He turned and looked down at her, his amber eyes dancing with humor.

Hermione hesitated before reaching up and swiping away the preservative with her thumb. Her thumb brushed the crease of his mouth, and Hermione gasped slightly when Blaise puckered his lips slightly, bestowing a kiss on the finger.

Hermione tried not to focus on his full, firm mouth, and involuntarily thought back to how it felt to kiss those lips, to be held by strong arms as his tongue invaded her mouth. It had been nearly a decade since she felt his body against hers, but the memory was as clear as if it were yesterday.

Without meaning to, Hermione took a step forward, putting her directly in front of her ex. “Blaise…” Hermione murmured, her eyes hooded.

At the sound of his name on her lips, Blaise moved into the remaining inches that separated them, his hands coming up to clasp her to him. His hands were still wet and bubbly from the sink, and one rounded her waist, pulling her flush against him. The other hand gently cradled the back of her neck, her head tipping back slightly.

Slanting his lips over her own, Blaise kissed her firmly, as if he were trying to leave an imprint of his lips on hers. Moving her mouth against his, Hermione tried not to moan. Apparently, her memory wasn’t as sharp as she thought, as this was way better than she remembered. His lips worked restlessly against hers, and Blaise angled them sideways so that the countertop pressed against her back, and his arms caged her in.

Feeling the brush of his tongue against the seam of her mouth, Hermione allowed entrance without a thought. Their tongues moved sensually against one another, stroking and re- learning old territory.

Pulling away with a gasp, Hermione sucked in air. Blaise, undeterred, kissing down her neck to her collarbones, where he bit and sucked at the skin. Holding his head to her, Hermione continued to take in air. As she breathed, the lusty fog began to lift from her mind, and rationale was regained.

“Blaise,” Hermione said, hating how weak her voice sounded, “Blaise, stop.”

To his credit, he did stop, but only reluctantly. His arms continued to hold her, and he leaned his forehead against hers.

“Oh, Blaise, what are we doing?” Hermione asked, her eyes closed. “Just because we have a kid together doesn’t mean we’re automatically supposed to pick up where we left off. Children do not equal a happy relationship.”

“Very true,” Blaise rumbled, his voice rough, “However, I happen to know that our child has nothing to do with my wanting to take you, here and now.”

Hermione gasped at his bold statement, and abruptly jumped out of his old as she heard a floorboard down the hall creak. Straightening her dress and smoothing her hair, Hermione turned back to the sink, quickly picking up a discarded dish rag.

Xander wandered in a second later, and stopped in the doorway. His father was looking slightly dazed, staring at his mother.

“I think we might want to head over to the staff room, soon.” Xander said, “It’s nearly one o’clock.”

“Yes, you’re right darling.” Hermione said, turning around. “We’ll leave in just a moment.”

Nodding, Xander moved back down the corridor towards his room, thinking. Why would his mother have two large, wet hand prints on the back of her dress?Hey guys,

Looks like our favorite couple aren’t quite as sneaky as they thought. You have to be careful, with a clever kid like Xander hanging around. Things are starting to heat up with Mr. Zabini and Ms. Granger, and there’s plenty more where that came from.

So, what did you think? It’s not a particularly fast- passed chapter, but there’s some drama coming up, so I figured I’d give you all a break. You’ve been warned.

Hope everything is going well for you guys. Send me a review, because I love ‘em. Just sayin’

Haste La Vista,

Gotbooks93
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