Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Time's Up	By : Gotbooks00 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Blaise Views: 23285 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
Time’s Up

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. Join Hermione as she finds out how.

CHAPTER ONE

The Standard Book of Spells (Year 3) by Miranda Goshawk

A Beginner’s Guide to Charms by Leona Litterburough

A Guide to Charms for the Intermediate Student by Noel Wrappison

Common Chants and Charms, and How to Use Them by E.D. McFurrell

Quintessence: A Quest by Hester Meany

As she perused the books in the Charms section, twenty eight year old Hermione Granger let her mind wander. The sounds within Flourish and Blotts Book Store were muffled, due to the lack of people within the shop. It was a Friday afternoon, and few patrons chose the cool, quiet bookstore over the warm sunshine outside.

A couple of shelves to her right, she could hear an old man muttering under his breath in the Potions section. Two young witches giggled together in the Romance area whilst reading a book on love potions, and a middle-aged man stood in the Divination Department, seemingly enthralled in whatever book he had picked up. She sighed, and went back to browsing.

As the Charms Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione was obligated to pick out the required books for next year’s class. The end of the current year was drawing to a close, and she was worried about getting an appropriate book list for her upper level students. First, second, third, and fourth year students were easy, as far as books went. She would require the tried and true copies of Miranda Goshawk’s Standard Book of Spells, and recommend additional books to interested students.

Her older students, however, were beginning to prepare either for their O.W.L.s or their N.E.W.T.s. As such, she tried to require at least one extra reading book, besides their copy of The Standard Book of Spells. With a grimace, she chose Common Charms and Chants, And How to Use Them from the shelf. She didn’t particularly agree with the author’s point of view when it came to practical use, but the section on ancient charms was top quality.

Satisfied, Hermione ticked the chore off her mental list.

Now, just one more thing to collect before she left the store. Heading over to the Children’s department, she swept her eyes around the low shelving and brightly colored rug. The area was in the corner of the shop, with half- walls closing it in. Two little girls talked animatedly to their mother, occasionally gesturing to a bright pink book, insisting they needed it. But besides those three, the area seemed deserted.

Undeterred, Hermione headed to the furthest shelves, the ones tucked back against the wall. Here, the books were tamer colors, with thicker pages, smaller print, and fewer pictures. Tucked into the corner was a little boy. This little boy, however, belonged to Hermione Granger.

In his current position, little could be seen of him. A mop of curly, dark hair spilled around his ears, his bowed head concealed his face. His legs were tucked up against his chest, with a book propped against his knees. Long, slender fingers curled around the edges of the book, the nails neat and clean. His skin was neither pale nor dark, but rather a light tan, as if he spent too much time in the sun. Hermione knew better.
“Xander.” she said softly, crouching down to his level. “What have you found, darling?”
He slowly raised a single finger, indicating she wait a moment. As his eyes stayed glued to the page, Hermione suppressed a smirk. She waited patiently, stroking a hand over his glossy hair. After a minute had passed, she invoked is rarely- used full name. “Alexander.”

He raised his head, and Hermione was startled -as usual- by his eyes. Framed by dark, thick lashes, their amber hue reflecting a soul much older than his seven year old body.

“Mother, did you know that grindylows can breathe underwater?” his voice was quiet and smooth.
“Yes, darling, I did. They can also swim as fast as the average broomstick.”
“Really?” the boy seemed mildly interested, casually flipping forward in the book. “May I please buy this book, Mother? It’s very interesting.” He flashed the cover at her, the title in glittering golden text. The Young Person’s Guide to Magical Creatures.
Taking the book from him, she flipped to the beginning pages. There, under the publishing information, was the statement ‘Intended for children aged 10 and older’. This made her purse her lips. On one hand, she didn’t ever want to deny her son knowledge. On the other, the age recommendation was usually included due to more disturbing content, such as fatal encounters.
Tapping the book’s binding against her left palm, she regarded her son. “How about this,” she began, noting her son’s furrowed eyebrows, a clear sign of frustration. “I will buy the book, and put it away until your birthday in two weeks. After that, we’ll go over the chapters as you read them, and talk about the ins and outs of certain defensive tactics. Too many children think that they can handle, say, a grindylow, just because they’ve read about them. This is rarely the case, and I don’t want to take the chance with you.”
Her seven year old smirked. “Mother, you know I’m entirely too clever to get snatched by one.”
“Never the less,” Hermione continued, “that is my final offer.”
Xander leaned back, looking at his mother closely. Sensing her iron will in place, he conceded. “All right. But you better hide it somewhere good, because if I find it, I’m going to read it. It’s only fair.”
Hermione smiled softly at her son. “Very well. Now, let’s get going, we still need to pick up a present for James.”
They moved across the store, Hermione holding several charms books, while Xander clutched his. Glancing down at him, Hermione noted his hair and height. “We’ll need to get your hair cut soon, and some new trousers. You’re growing taller.” She thought the comment would please him, but a glance downwards showed his mouth set in a thin line.
“I don’t want to get my hair cut, Mother.” he said, a note of petulance creeping into his voice.
“Why ever not?” Hermione asked, confused.
“If I keep my hair longer, people can’t see my eyes as well. It lets me see more.”
Trying to suppress her disquiet over his comment, she mentally sighed. More and more every day, she observed Slytherin traits within her son. It was little wonder, really, when one considered his parentage, but that didn’t stop her from worrying. It wasn’t that Xander was cruel, by any means- he was well behaved, and had a good head on his shoulders. But sometimes, when she caught him doing something remarkably ambitious, or a little sneaky, she wondered just how many of his father’s traits he had inherited.
This is not to say that he didn’t have his share of other qualities. While he usually possessed a level head, Xander had a rather devastating temper when provoked. This, coupled with his accidental magic, often left something shattered, transported, or otherwise damaged. The vases in her home had certainly seen their share of mending charms. Besides his Gryffindor temper, her son possessed a cool intellect, and a hunger for knowledge, reminiscent of the house of Ravenclaw. His somber temperament sometimes worried her, especially when she saw other children his age, laughing and playing. But he never showed any interest in playing along, preferring to watch and make mental notes of his peer’s behavior.
“Yes well, I like to see your lovely eyes without having to move aside your hair. We can go down to the barber shop by Grandma and Grandpa’s, when we visit next week. Maybe we should pick some trousers from Twilfitt and Tatting's since we’re here anyway.” She mused, ignoring Xander’s horrified look. There was nothing he hated more than being poked and prodded by the shop assistants, all of whom cooed at him, exclaiming how handsome he was, what a heart-breaker he would be when he was older. They were rarely deterred by his un-amused expression, a small scowl in place on his face.
After purchasing their books, the duo slipped out of the shop, heading down the street towards Twilfitt and Tatting's Wizarding Attire. As they exited, Xander’s hand slipped into her own discretely. For whatever reason, he feared large crowds, and always slid closer to his mother when they moved through the teeming alley. Hermione suspected he had a mild claustrophobic fear of closed- in spaces. However, she made sure not to comment on his actions, knowing he prided himself on his maturity- and mature young men did not hold their mother’s hands in death grips when in crowded places.
True to form, the shop assistants crooned over Xander as their enchanted measuring tapes collected his sizes, mentioning how much he had grown since he was there last.
“So tall and handsome,” said commented the manager as she rang them up at the register, “I supposed he gets his height from his father, then?” she asked, looking at Hermione’s unimpressive five feet, four inch height.
Feeling her son’s eyes drilling into the side of her head, Hermione made a non- committal noise. Neither Xander nor his father knew of the other’s identity, and she had every intention to keep it that way. As a result, Xander questioned her endlessly over his paternal heritage. Hermione took great pains to avoid his questioning, trying to distract him to end his relentless inquiries. This tactic rarely worked, and as a result Xander had collected a small arsenal of random fact about his father. Hermione was careful to tell him only trivial tidbits of information, like his favorite foods, or their mutual love of books.
Unbeknownst to either her son or his father, she kept careful tabs on the later’s whereabouts and actions. They still had a few mutual friends, and he was in the paper every once in a while.
Hermione was careful to keep media coverage off her son, earning her a reputation as a private person among reporters. Thank Merlin the media coverage in the wizarding world was somewhat limited. The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and The Quibbler were the only real wizarding publications in the UK, and she knew Luna well enough not to worry about any interference from The Quibbler. Rita Skeeter remained an unregistered animagus, and knew Hermione wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail her, should she take a special interest in Xander. Witch Weekly knew Hermione was rather reclusive, and knew her disinterest in any tell- all interviews.
Around five o’clock, they exited Diagon Alley, holding an additional bag from Kerber Toy Emporium. Inside was James Potter’s fifth birthday present, already wrapped. Hermione was the boy’s godmother, and Xander had developed a grudging affection for the child over the years. James, and three-year-old Albus, both adored him, looking up to him as an older brother. iOnce, Xander had declared that green beans were gross, and refused to eat them; it was months before Albus and James would so much as look at the vegetable, let alone eat one. After that, whenever they visited the Potter household, Hermione always reminded Xander to mind his comments and opinions.
Getting a firm grip on both the bags and her son, Hermione apparated them both to the back garden of the Potter residence. The house was situated in a quiet muggle neighborhood, and Hermione knew better than to suddenly appear on the front porch, during the day.
“Hello?” Hermione called out, approaching the back of the house.
Through the open kitchen window, she could hear the voices of several people, and the squeals of children fading in and out. Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and James rushed out, soon followed by Albus. Both shouted Xander’s name, and the boy in question gave a small sigh. As he constantly reminded Hermione, he was “nearly eight, and too old for little kids!” Despite this, he gave a small smile toward his adopted cousins, and wished James a happy birthday.
“Yes, sweetheart, happy birthday.” Hermione said, giving her godson a kiss on the cheek. After returning her kiss, his attention immediately returned to Xander. Giving his mother a long- suffering look, the older boy ushered both boys back into the house. Hermione followed, looking around the room at the other inhabitants of the room. Within a few seconds, she was approached by Mrs. Potter.
The majority of the wizarding population presumed that Ginny Weasley would become Mrs. Harry Potter after her graduation, including Harry Potter, himself. However, when one finds their long- term girlfriend in a passionate embrace with Pansy Parkinson, things tend to go a little haywire. After several weeks of the cold shoulder, Ginny’s betrayal was forgiven. In the meantime, Ginny and Pansy had emerged as one of the only lesbian couple in the history of Hogwarts. Following their respective graduations, they had moved in together, and were currently looking into adopting a baby from a third world country.
So it was not Ginny that approached Hermione that day, but instead Luna Potter, nee Lovegood. After the shocking break up of Harry and Ginny, Luna had been a sympathetic friend to the Boy Who Lived. That friendship turned out to become much more as they left Hogwarts. Within a year, they were engaged. The rest, as they say, is history.

“Hermione, I’m so glad you could make it.” Luna greeted in her soft, dreamy voice. The two hugged, and Luna moved toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder that Hermione should make herself at home.

Turning toward the rest of the room, Hermione looked around. Ginny and Pansy were lounging at the small wet bar in the corner; Pansy held a bright pink cocktail, Ginny a firewiskey. Hermione found this oddly fitting for the couple. On the love seat, sat Bill and Fluer Weasley, who were conversing with Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan. A pretty brunette was perched in Seamus’ lap, looking like a bit of an airhead.

Seamus, however, didn’t seem to mind at all. Hermione suppressed a snort. The good- looking Irishman had a tendency to attract pretty girls, but few of them were able to string together an opinion on much outside of shopping and the latest copy of Witch Weekly. The girls had only gotten prettier and dumber as Seamus’ sports bar, Finnigan’s, opened last year. The bar was located just off Diagon Alley, and attracted Quidditch fans all over the U.K. The last Hermione had heard, the bar was doing quite well financially.

Sitting on the window seat along the back wall, were Fred and George Weasley, Lee Jordan, Katie Bell, and Terry Boot. Gathered at their feet was a small group of children. Several sported Weasley- red hair, including Victorie and Dominique, Bill and Fluer’s children, and Lucy, Percy and Audrey’s daughter. James and Albus sat on the floor, as did a few children Hermione didn’t recognize. Deciding they must be friends of James’ from nursery school, she turned to see what held their attention. Fred and George were holding something in their hands, and occasional bursts of light and sound were escaping every few seconds. Hoping the twins knew what they were doing, Hermione’s eyes sought out Xander.

He stood along a wall close by to the twin’s show, quietly talking to Teddy Lupin. Teddy’s hair was flashing from blue to black to red and back. The two boys were only a few months apart and close friends. Teddy now lived with the Potters, since Andromeda Tonks passed away last year. Hermione thought the woman died of heart break, but the official cause of death was a stroke. In spite of the loss of his last remaining blood relative, Teddy retained his cheerful and kind self. The only time she had ever seen him serious was at his grandmother’s funeral, and when he talked to her son. Xander caught her eye and smiled faintly, before turning back to his conversation. Merlin knew what those two talked about.

“Hermione! You made it!” the call came from across the room, near the magically enlarged table. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sat among a large group of adults, and were motioning her over. She smiled at people as she passed them, happy to see Dean Thomas and his fiancée, Hannah Abbot, Percy and Audrey Weasley, and Cho Chang. Lisa Turpin sat beside Oliver Wood, with Colin and Dennis Creevey at the end of the table.

Squeezing into a seat between Harry and Ron, she greeted them both, making small chat. The three friends had remained close over the years, and made a point to meet every other week to catch up. Their busy schedules often collided, but they made it work. Harry’s auror duties and growing family took up a lot of time. Hermione’s classes and son kept her busy through the week, and Ron’s quidditch schedule had him constantly traveling. He now played professionally for the Chudley Cannons, turning their decades- old losing streak around. The team was currently a favorite for the Quidditch World Cup, and Ron was feeling the love. Groupies flocked to the team, and Hermione was mildly surprised he hadn’t brought along a ‘date’ to the party.

“So, no groupie tonight?” she questioned softly, gently bumping his shoulder with her own.

Ron blushed lightly, shaking his head. “No, none of them are really the type I would bring along to my godson’s birthday. No date for you, either?” He teased, knowing the answer.

“You know I don’t date, Ronald.” Hermione replied tartly, secretly proud of his maturity. Ron did have his moments, she supposed. Lately she was beginning to notice a change in her friend- his gaze sometimes lingered on couples when they went out to eat, and she suspected he was a little envious of his friends and family, as they started families of their own. Maybe one of these days he would start looking for someone who cared less about the fame and fortune of dating a quidditch player, and more about the man beneath the uniform.

“Well, why not?” asked Harry from her other side.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Why don’t you date, Hermione? I know we joke around about it a lot, but Xander isn’t that young anymore. Why keep holding yourself back?”

“Oh, Harry, not this again. ” Hermione said, exasperated. “Look, I don’t have time to raise a child, teach a full time course, and date. Maybe when Xander is older. ”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the loud voice of Molly Weasley.

“All right, everyone. Grab a plate and come get food in the kitchen! Fred and George Weasley, you put… whatever it is you have down right now!”

The night continued with good food, laughter, and hearty conversation. James opened his small mountain of presents, and was delighted with Hermione’s gift, a set of miniature dueling figurines. His adoration for Xander grew even more, if that was possible. Around eight o’ clock, James and Albus were ushered to bed by Luna. The adults with children left soon after, leaving a small group of relaxed adults behind.

At nine o’clock, Hermione caught Xander blinking slowly, obviously worn out. Teddy had been sent to bed by Harry a half hour earlier, leaving Xander with a lack of companionship, and thus nothing to keep him awake.

Bumping his shoulder gently, she suggested they floo home. All she received was an exhausted nod, as he went to the closet to gather his coat. Turning around, Hermione came face- to- face with Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione suppressed her automatic glare. She was still training herself to be nice to the other woman, after so many years of animosity. They were always careful to be at least cordial, for Ginny. Hermione was quite close with the redheaded girl, and Pansy obviously adored her partner.

“I think we need to talk, Granger. Now. ” Despite her girly appearance, Pansy Parkinson had a no nonsense attitude.

“Look, Parkinson, tonight isn’t a good night. Xander is exhausted, and I have a staff meeting tomorrow morning. Can’t this wait?” Hermione asked, already grabbing her purse.

“No, it can’t wait. It has to be now. ” Pansy grabbed Hermione’s wrist, making eye contact.

Heaving a long sigh, Hermione turned to Xander, who had just walked up behind her. “Darling, it looks like I need to do something,” Hermione said, “why don’t you go ask Aunt Luna if you can lie down in the guest bed room until this is cleared up.”

Taking a long look at Pansy’s hand around his mother’s wrist, he hesitated, and then acquiesced, walking toward the stairs.

“Okay, Parkinson, you have my attention. Now, what is so important?”

Dragging Hermione onto the back porch, Pansy firmly shut the door behind her. Lighting her wand and glancing around, she checked for any eavesdroppers.

Taking a deep breath, she began to speak quickly, “Look, I know you’ve been very careful about the secret of who Alexander’s father is. But I’ve already figured it out…”

Hermione’s blood ran cold, and her horrified expression only spurred the Slytherin girl to talk faster.

“…and quite frankly, I don’t care. If I wasn’t so close to him, I probably wouldn’t have figured it out. The kid is just like his father, anyway. I mean, how many other six year olds-“

“He’s seven.”

“Fine, how many seven year olds are content to sit and observe people for several hours? ‘Cause when he wasn’t talking to the Lupin brat, that’s what he did. Bit of a Slytherin trait, that.” She paused with a gin, “Anyway, I thought you would want to know that his father is coming back to Britian, to stay. He’s sick of France, and so he’s moving back into one of his family’s houses. And trust me, Granger; he’s going to find out about Alexander. I strongly suggest you tell him before he finds out himself.”

Thinking she was calling a bluff, Hermione spoke. “Look, how do I even know we’re talking about the same person?”

Giving her the ‘You-are-such-a-moronic-Gryffindor’ look, Pansy said two words that Hermione least wanted to hear: “Blaise Zabini.”

Author’s Note:

Okay, so they won’t normally be this long, but I need to get some stuff out of the way.

Hello!

I'm a new author on AFF.net, although some of you may recognize this story from fanfiction.net. I'm Gotbooks93 over there, and someone requested I post this story on there. Sorry about the spacing- I'm still trying to get a handle on it.

For anyone who is offended by the Ginny/Pansy relationship: I’m not making you read this story. True, I won’t be doing any femslash scenes, but that particular couple is semi-important to the story. So get over it, or go away. Those are your options. This also applies to the random pairings (such as Harry/ Luna) I’ve thrown in for fun. Quite frankly, I’m sick of seeing the usual couples. I think it’s time to spice things up. As for Fred, I just can’t accept that he’s dead. I could deal with Mad Eye, Lupin, and even Dobby. But not Fred. So as far as I’m concerned, he’s still up to his usual shenanigans, along with George.

This fic will not be abandoned, but I’m a college student, so there may be some irregularities as far as postings go. Bear with me, people. Updates are usually on Thursdays, in case you were wondering.

Well, that’s pretty much it. Constructive criticism is, as always, more than welcome. Let me know if you think it’s worth continuing. If not, I’ll store it away on my hard drive for a while.

Peace out,

Gotbooks00
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Time's Up