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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
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 as she they finds out.

CHAPTER NINE

There was something touching her face.

“Mother. Mother, there’s a strange woman in the living room.”

Ah, yes. She had a child. Cracking open one sleep- bleary eye, Hermione made out Xander’s anxious face, inches from her own. His little hand rested on her cheek, where it had gently patted her into wakefulness.

Hermione meant to say something along the lines of ‘Alexander, please elaborate about your statement concerning an unfamiliar woman in the living room?’ but it came out as something like “’Ander whacha mean ‘bout woman in the livin’ room?”

“There’s a woman in the living room, just sitting on the couch. I think she’s reading a magazine, and she keeps talking to herself in another language. I don’t know who she is, though. Maybe she’s lost.”

If Xander hadn’t let them in the front door, like he had for Malfoy, the woman must have gotten in by floo.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Hermione mentally ran through a list of who could get floo access to their rooms. Xander knew all the Hogwarts staff, and only a few of their friends could get in without direct permission. It must be a blood relative. It obviously wasn’t Blaise, or any of her muggle cousins, which left-

“Elena.” She hissed through clenched teeth.

This hostile statement obviously caused Xander some mild alarm, because he took a half- step back from his mother’s bed. Hermione then saw that his other hand clutched a cricket bat, one that her father used to play with Xander when they visited. She vaguely registered the end of Selena’s tail wrapped around his wrist.

“Xander, why do you have a bat?” Asked Hermione as she sat up, looking around for her dressing gown.

“In case she comes to get us. I’ll protect you.” said Xander, clutching the bat with two hands.

Smiling softly, Hermione swung her legs over the side of her bed, grabbing her dressing gown. “Perhaps there’s hope for Gryffindor, yet, hmm?” She mused, kissing the top of his head. “Now, jump in.” She gestured to her bed, amused when Xander scrambled in, tugging the covers up under his nose.

“As valiant as your efforts are, I think I better handle this one.” She said, pocketing her wand and turning towards the bedroom door.

“Wait, Mother!” whispered Xander. Heaving the cricket bat out from under the covers, he held it out to her. “If all else fails, hit her in the neck. It’s one of the most vulnerable parts of the body.”

Looking at his earnest, anxious face, Hermione suppressed a smile. She gently took the bat from her son, although she had no intention to use it.

Slipping out into the hallway, Hermione silently moved toward the living room, spotting the back of Elena’s head over the top of the couch. For a moment, Hermione readjusted her hold on the cricket bat, feeling the dense, heavy feel of the wood in her palm. ‘Just one good whack probably won’t kill her…’ Hermione mused. ‘No, bad Hermione.’ She admonished herself a moment later.

Giving up her stealthy approach, Hermione spoke as she made her way to the couch that was opposite Elena. “You know, people usually await an invitation to enter someone’s home, instead of just barging in uninvited and scaring the hell out of the present children.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Said Elena, flipping a page on her magazine. “I told you last night-”

“This morning.” Hermione corrected.

“-that I would be by to see my grandchild.” She continued, pretending Hermione hadn’t spoken at all.

“And it didn’t occur to you that perhaps you should wait until a decent hour?” asked Hermione.

“Oh, I apologize Ms. Granger.” Said Elena idly, flipping another page in her magazine. “I didn’t realize that eleven o’clock in the morning was no long considered ‘decent’.”

Hermione, startled, glanced over at the clock on the wall, only to find that indeed, it was almost noon.

“And if Alexander was startled,” continued Elena, “that obviously means you’ve coddled him too much over the years.”

“Coddled him too much? And this, coming from you, of all people?” asked Hermione, her voice raising. “The woman who, to this day, attempts to plan her grown son’s meals? Who lays out his ties, and-”

“That’s enough!” snapped Elena, “Perhaps if I had been stricter with my son, he would have listened to me when I told him not to associate with a muggle trash like yourself!”

“That’s it!” Hissed Hermione, whipping her wand out of her robe.

Throwing her magazine aside, Elena did the same. In the back of her mind, Hermione was vaguely surprised at the rapid, hostile turn their conversation had taken. As the two witches stood, Hermione’s eye caught on a small, pale figure in the doorway.

“Xander.” Hermione said, without thinking.

Turning on her heel, Elena spun to look behind her. Instantly, her face transformed from a furious mask of rage into a sweet, serene smile.

“Why, you must be Alexander.” The woman cooed, bending so she was at eye level with her grandson. “Your mummy and I were just having a chat. Do you know who I am, sweetling?”

Looking unsure, Xander glanced nervously at Hermione. “No, but I- I think you need to leave, now.” He said, pointing at the entrance to their rooms.

“Oh, Il mio piccolo agnello, I don’t think you understand.” Elena continued to talk to her son like he was a dog, and Hermione could see his ire rising. “I’m your nonna, your grandmother.”

“I don’t care who you are.” Snapped Xander, the apprehension draining from his eyes, only to be replaced by anger.

“Xander- ” Admonished Hermione. Inside, she was beginning to worry. Xander had a fairly steady hold on his emotions, but blatant rudeness was often accompanied by a rise in his temper.

“Oh, stay out of this.” Growled Elena over her shoulder, before turning back to Xander. “He just needs to get to know me, don’t you sweetums?”

“I think I know you enough to say you’re not very nice. You’re not supposed to come into someone’s house, and say nasty things to the people who live there. It’s very rude.” Said Xander, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh, darling, this is hardly a house, hmm?” scoffed Elena, glancing over her shoulder at Hermione. “I supposed your mother doesn’t make much on her salary, but I’ll have to take you to see some real houses. Like the manor, or your father’s vacation homes. They’re quite a bit nicer than this old place.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Said Xander, a trace of fear creeping into his voice. His eyes filled with tears.

“Xander, darling-” started Hermione, stepping closer, trying to comfort her emotional son.

“I told you, stay out of this, you filthy little mudblood!” shrieked Elena, finally losing her composure.

Directly following the spoken slur, the line of figurines on the bookshelf began to explode, one by one.

“Don’t you say that word!” screamed Xander, lashing out. “That’s a nasty word! You’re nasty too! Go away! I don’t want you here!” the boy was openly crying, now, and shoved Elena away from him.

Other objects were now exploding around the room, and the glass in the windows had begun to rattle loudly. The curtains were swaying on their rod, and Hermione could hear the silverware in the kitchen emitted dull thuds as the forks and knives rumbled around in their drawer.

“Alexander,” Hermione spoke in a level, stern voice. “Stop this, right now. You’re not going anywhere with her, and you know that word doesn’t hurt me. It’s just a word, darling.”

As Hermione talked, the rattling slowed, and the curtains slowed their swaying.

“Il mio dio.” Murmured Elena, looking around the room.

“Elena, you leave. Right now.” Said Hermione grabbing the woman’s upper arm. Within a moment, the Italian witch was thrust into the corridor outside, and the door was firmly shut in her face.

Turning back towards the living room, Hermione moved delicately across the room, careful of any bits of ceramic. Gathering her child into her arms, she murmured softly into his hair. “There, there, baby. Everything’s alright now. Are you calm now?” feeling his head nod against her chest, Hermione sighed. “Hey, where’s Selena?” she asked, feeling no bumps along Xander’s arm.

“I made her stay in your room.” Said Xander, tiredly. His fits of underage magic usually left him exhausted, and Hermione hoisted her son into her arms, making her way to her bedroom.

“I think today is a good day to stay in, don’t you?” she asked, kissing the side of his head. Another tired nod answered her, and she carefully rolled back the covers on the other side of her bed.

After laying Xander down, Hermione immediately saw Selena slither into his pajama top, curling up on his chest. Pulling the blanket up, Hermione ran a hand over his head. “I’m going to clean up a bit, and then we can have a kip, hmm?” seeing that he was already asleep, Hermione tip- toed out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind her.

Hermione tried to suppress a groan on dismay. The curtains and windows were intact, but several other items in the room weren’t so lucky.

One of the cushions on the couch had exploded, dusting the room with feathers. However, instead of gently drifting downward as they should, they stayed suspended in place, filling the air. Small bits of porcelain were scattered on the bookshelf, and a lamp that had overturned now lay across the rug. And she hadn’t even seen the kitchen, yet.

Taking out her wand, Hermione began to repair the damage. She was about to make her way to the kitchen when she heard a knock on her front door. For a moment, she considered not answering it. Surely Elena wasn’t dumb enough to come back after that fiasco, but it might be Blaise. ‘Better get this over with’ thought Hermione, opening the door.

But the person behind the door was neither not a Zabini, but a Weasley. Charlie Weasley, to be exact.

“Charlie!” Hermione greeted warmly, opening her arms for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

Pulling back from the hug, Charlie smiled. “I’m in England for a week, and thought I’d stop by.”

Pulling him into the room, Hermione beamed. “How lovely! I’m so glad you came. Care for a cup of tea?”

“Love one, thanks.” Replied the dragon keeper, making his way into the kitchen. However, he froze in the doorway. “What the hell?” he exclaimed.

Peeking around him, Hermione peered into the room. ‘What the hell, indeed.’ She mused, her lips thinning in displeasure.

The kitchen was worse than she thought. Several knives, obviously having escaped from the utensil drawer, were embedded in the wall. One of the kitchen chairs was overturned, and the pretty dish towels Molly Weasley had made her had been reduced to strips of fabric. The clock on the wall’s hands moved rapidly on their axis, like a spinning top.

“Oh, Charlie, I’m sorry. It’s been a rough morning.” Hermione apologized, quickly setting the room to rights.

“What happened, exactly?” asked Charlie, turning the chair back over.

“Xander…well, he had a bit of a fit today. Someone came by and it was…less than pleasant.”

“Dare I ask who this ‘someone’ is?” inquired Charlie, straddling one of the chairs.

“Blaise’s mother.” Groaned Hermione, mending the dish towels.

“You know, I almost blacked out when I saw the paper this morning.” Said Charlie, his tone turning serious.

“The paper?” asked Hermione spinning around. Spotting that morning’s edition of The Daily Prophet on the ledge outside the kitchen window, Hermione threw it open and stared at the title.

GRANGER- ZABINI LOVE CHILD REVEALED TO PUBLIC was in big, bold letters across the front page. In the picture below the headline was a picture of herself, Xander, and Blaise, strolling along Diagon Alley. Hermione groaned, skimming the article beneath. Most of the text was pure nonsense, although Ginny had given a quote.

Granger, who is close friends with the Weasley family, included them within her inner circle. “I think Blaise and Hermione would like the public to give them the privacy they deserve. This is a personal matter that doesn’t concern anyone but them.” Said Ginevera Weasley, a good friend of Granger and a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. Ironically, the same team is currently in legal turmoil, with one of the members being represented by Zabini himself.

Hermione made a mental note to thank her friend for the attempt to keep their privacy intact. The article went on to paint Blaise as an irresistible scoundrel who had seduced Hermione into his bed. Following their ‘love affair’ Blaise had left a pregnant Hermione to fend for herself, while he developed his career in law in numerous foreign countries. Hermione had apparently raised their child on some deserted island in the Caribbean, and had only recently decided to reveal him to the public. Reading the senseless drivel, Hermione was torn between amusement and outrage.

“You can imagine all of our surprise when we found out Xander’s dad was Zabini, but everyone has actually been pretty good about it. Of course, Mum sent us all an owl when the reporters came around to the Burrow, but I guess Ginny didn’t get the message in time.”

“So… no one’s mad?” asked Hermione cautiously. She hadn’t realized she was concerned about her friend’s reactions until the question left her mouth.

“Well, everyone is pretty confused, but I think we all know better than to believe anything that’s written in that rag. Either way, I suppose the fact that Xander has already gained our everlasting devotion helps.” Mused Charlie playfully. “But Zabini better watch his back- there are quite a lot of people to back you up if he doesn’t watch it.”

Nodding slowly, Hermione finished making the tea and sat down. The duo talked for a while, and Hermione found herself enjoying the redhead’s easy company more than usual.

“Don’t let Xander find out you came by.” Said Hermione after a lull in the conversation. “He’ll be furious that he missed you while he was asleep.”

“I won’t. But that reminds me,” said Charlie, sitting up strait. “Bill and Fluer are having a luncheon tomorrow for close friends and family. There’ll be food, and the kids can go play by the beach. Bill told me to get you to come.”

“We’d be happy to go,” said Hermione, smiling. “What time?”

“Any time after ten in the morning. The kids will be excited to hear Xander’s coming.” Glancing at his watch, he stood. “Speaking of time, I better get going. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Definitely.” Said Hermione, walking Charlie to the door. After a brief embrace, the Weasley departed, leaving Hermione in the quiet of her home.

Despite the fact that it was almost two thirty in the afternoon, she only wanted to go crawl into her bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

And so she did just that, combing her fingers through her son’s too-long hair as she drifted into Morpheus’ embrace.

~(o)~

Elena Zabini was, in a word, furious.

As she stormed through the front doors of Flint and Ferguson Law Offices, she mentally fumed over the events of the day. It had started badly enough, with the absolute shock of finding out about an unknown heir in the family. A shock like that wasn’t healthy for a woman her age- at 54 years old, she wasn’t as young as she looked. Granted, she hadn’t hit middle age yet, by wizarding standards. But if she were to die of a shock, who would carry on the Zabini name satisfactorily?

She would be damned if she’d let her brother’s children take over as the head of the family. Blaise, Merlin bless him, wasn’t a candidate to begin with. He was too wrapped up in his ridiculous job, and with that horrible Granger woman. To this day, Elena didn’t understand the allure of either of his obsessions.

There was plenty of gold in the family vaults, leaving no necessity for actual employment. When Elena had asked her son why he worked for a living instead of going into charity work or an easy family job like many of his friends, he had sighed and said, “Mother, I want to actually be challenged in my life. My job lets me help people, and I’m doing something I love.”

Love. A useless emotion, if you asked her.

And then there was that mudblood, Granger. With her wild hair, too- pale features, and fingers, stained with ink, Elena could hardly imagine a less appropriate woman to birth a Zabini heir. Of course, muggle tolerance was very ‘in’ right now, so she could hardly fault Blaise for his public outing with her. It was fashionable, at least.

But the woman herself made Elena nervous, an emotion that she wasn’t particularly fond of. She was whip smart, Elena could give her that. And thankfully, Alexander was a carbon- copy of Blaise, with little resemblance to Granger. But there was something about her that just wouldn’t do. Not at all.

In most cases, Elena simply let Blaise do what he liked. But this was more serious than ‘most cases’. This was the Zabini heir they were talking about. So maybe she could just give him a firm nudge in the right direction.

As she approached the front desk at Flint and Ferguson, Elena suppressed a smile. The blonde (the skinny little thing think barely looked to be out of Hogwarts) behind the desk was practically slack jawed with amazement as Elena approached. She couldn’t blame her. With her tight purple dress, huge diamond ring, and perfectly coifed hair, Elena Zabini was a curvy goddess in stilettos.

“May- may I help you?” asked the blonde, her expression a mix of awe and terror.

“I need to see Blaise Zabini immediately. Tell me where I can find his office.” Said the Italian woman breezily.

“I- I’m afraid Mr. Zabini has a meeting in twenty minutes, and won’t be able to see anyone until after it’s completed.” Said the blonde, straitening her spine in an effort to hold her ground.

“Hmmm, that’s a shame. Cynthia Bowers, is it?” Elena glanced down at the generic name plate on the desk. “Bowers, Bowers. Oh, yes, the Bowers family. Big in trade, right?”

At Cynthia’s look of dawning horror, Elena continued in a sweet tone. “I suppose your family relies rather heavily on Italian trade markets right now, hmm? It would be a terrible shame if his clients rather suddenly dropped him as a supplier, and chose to go with someone else.”

Watching the other girl purse her lips and frown, Elena smirked. “Now, tell me again- where did you say Mr. Zabini’s office is?”

“Room Three- oh- seven, ma’am, on the third floor.”

“Excellent.” Replied Elena, giving a toothy smile as she moved towards the shiny elevator doors to the left.

“Wait! How should I tell his secretary is here?” called Cynthia from behind her.

“His mother.” Answered Elena, giving a small, throaty laugh. Sometimes getting her way was just too easy.

~(o)~

“So you see, Blaisey, I just think it would be better to consult a specialist. I mean, Hermione is a lovely girl, but she wasn’t raised in a magical household like you were. And I think she’d appreciate the help.”

“I don’t know, Mother, Hermione seems to think Alexander is pretty normal for a child his age.” Replied Blaise, looking doubtful. Admittedly, his mother’s recounting of the day’s events had him concerned.

“Darling, if you had seen that room after his little fit, you wouldn’t have said that. Granted, no mother wants to be told she’s doing a bad job, but it’s really in everyone’s best interest.”

Seeing her son’s doubtful look, she continued. “I have a friend at the Ministry that specializes in cases like this. They’ll evaluate the situation, and take whatever means they deem necessary. Really, Blaise, think of what’s best for Alexander.”

Sensing that victory was close, Elena produced a scrap of parchment and a quill. “I’ll just leave my friend’s name for you to use. Send me a floo if you have any trouble.”

Standing from the chair that faced Blaise’s desk, she collected her hand bag and gave a toothy smile. “Well, must dash. I have a lunch date with Debora Parkinson; we’re planning the Save the Pygmy Puffs benefit dinner. Isn’t it exciting?” giving a quick, happy clap of her hands, she swept out of his office, calling a “Ciao, darling!” as she left.

Blaise leaned back in his chair, idly fingering the scrap of parchment on his desk. To the right of his desk was the rubbish bin. He picked up the parchment, letting his hand drift undecidedly over to the edge of his desk, thinking.

“Mr. Zabini, your one o’clock appointment is here.” The voice of his secretary suddenly came through the magical intercom on his desk, and Blaise sighed.

“Yes, I’ll be out in a moment. Thank you.” He replied.

After a moment, he curled his hand around the parchment, shoving it into his pocket as he stood. ‘Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.’ Blaise thought as he left his office, letting the door click shut behind him.

Hey guys,

So, what’d you think? Pretty dramatic chapter, although we’re still a bit behind in the outline. I’m sure none of you are particularly bothered by this, as it means you get more chapters. Meh. What can you do?

I have the feeling I’m the only one that still adores Elena, especially judging by some of your comments. She’s a nasty piece of work, but it’s just so fun to write her. For those of you who are fans, don’t worry. She’s not going anywhere.

And for anyone trying to find a pattern to my updates- stop trying. At this point, I'm just updating when I feel like it. Luckily for you guys, the mood strikes me pretty often. stability should be restored around Ch. 16.

Au revoir,

Gotbooks93
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