Truth Is

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"Truth Is"

Chapter 7

     (Two Days Later: Bolivia)

       Victoria watched her as she, effortlessly, charmed the group of Bolivian dignitaries with her smile and enchanting ways. Victoria could see the preparation and meaning that filled Hermione Granger's work, the commitment in which she felt for everything she did. She had only been watching her for two days but she could see it, sometimes she could feel it, it seemed to radiate from her very being. These errant observations did nothing to soothe the hell that Victoria was trying to deal with. Blaise kept up the farce in public but the moment they returned to the hotel would be the loneliest moments of Victoria's life. She glanced over at the man that she was supposed to marry, sending him a small glare, as Hermione smiled politely as the bane of everyone's existence, the President of Brazil, kissed her hand and gave her a gentleman like greeting. Victoria looked over at Blaise, again, who was indulging himself in the same sport that she had just pulled her eyes from. Sighing loudly she looked around the crowded room once more, wondering why Blaise thought it appropriate to bring her to a Negotiation Luncheon when he really wanted to send her back home to her father.

       "Don't look so disgusted, Victoria," Blaise growled in her ear, leaning over like a lover whispering his eternal adoration.

       Victoria smiled tightly, mumbling, "Don't stare at her so."

       "I'm not staring," Blaise replied harshly, leaving a few drops of spit in her hair, "I'm observing."

       "Observing what?" Victoria snapped, her controlled demeanor becoming painfully kept. "The gentle way that small dimple appears next to her lip when she laughs?"

       "Someone besides myself has been staring," Blaise scoffed, as he nodded at a passing politician from America, "I was observing how comfortable these men seem to be with her. She will be a huge asset to me when this whole mess finally comes to a head."

       "Blaise," she tried, her voice softer and her eyes begging for something that she never really had.

       "Yes," he replied softly, smiling as Draco took Hermione from the group of men who were receiving her attention.

       "May I be direct?" Victoria asked, her Southern manners, being raised in Texas assured many that she was to at least be polite, making heed over her anger.

       "You want to speak," Blaise answered blandly, turning an interested eye toward her, "and I have no objection to hearing it."

       "Why did you have to run for England's Minister of Magic, if--" she began, softly, but was silenced by Blaise's quick retort.

       "What is wrong with us has nothing to do with my political success and you know it."

       Victoria nodded, trying to hold her tongue, before picking up her wine glass and drinking the whole of it in one gulp. "So why did you start this? Were you just bored with her? Or was she being a prude and wouldn't do the things that I would?"

       "I was never bored with her," he replied watching as Hermione left Draco to speak to a couple that seemed extremely elated to see her, "I just wanted to get where I am."

       "Oh," she whispered, holding back any emotion that she felt, her extensive training aided her cause, "so you used me to do that?"

       "It didn't start that way," Blaise replied, glancing over a the angry blond, wondering why they were entertaining this conversation at that particular moment, "I came to your father for support but you started the game of seduction and I, in my ignorance, didn't end it."

       Victoria choked back a sob. Those moments in which she would utter three words to Blaise were hardly a lie and the current revelation actually stung more than she anticipated. "If you would excuse me, Blaise."

       Blaise stood, as a true gentleman should, as she fled his presence not noticing the pain lacing her tone. "Of course."

~*~

       "Ah," Hermione whispered, as she was kissed on the cheek by a tall, broad-chested, blond, well-dressed man, "Hans, what a pleasure it is."

       Hans Braun gave a smile that greatly rivaled his cold wife's smile. He held her arms length and looked her over appreciatively. "The pleasure is all mine, Hermione. Ian told me to make sure you looked healthy."

       Hermione smiled at the man's chuckle, his voice sounding more British to her than Cecania's. "Hans, I feel fine."

       "Good, good," Hans replied as he linked arms with the two women at his side. "Should we be seated?"

       "Shall you eat with us, Hermione?" Cecania asked, hopefully, as Hans pulled out a chair for her.

       "I would love to but I have work to do," Hermione replied, her tone sounding a tad disappointed, "as do you, Hans."

       Hans nodded looking over at the crowd of men who were beginning to enter the hall. "Well, at least allow me to fetch you a drink?"

       "Absolutely," she accepted with a smile.

       Cecania watched her husband's retreat from the table silently before speaking in a hushed tone. "What is it about love that makes people so . . . unwissend?"

       "Excuse me?" Hermione whispered, frowning, Cecania's slip into the German language threw her off guard.

       "Stupid, ignorant!" Cecania spat, fire blazing in her eyes.

       "What are you talking about, Cecania?" she asked, rather confused but quickly becoming irritated at the grating tone of Cecania's voice and her audacity to insult her intelligence.

       "I'm talking about this foolish affair with your Minister of Magic, if I may speak so frankly," Cecania replied, her voice in a sharp whisper.

       "No," Hermione snapped, trying her best to keep a straight face, "you may not speak so candidly because you have no idea what you are talking about!"

       Cecania stiffened, her hazel eyes glaring holes through Hermione. "Maybe that is so but I know only what Ian says."

       Hermione bit her lip impatiently, gently stretching her neck, whispering harshly, "And what does Ian know? He hasn't been here one day since I arrived, not one day! He sits at home making absurd assumptions while I am surrounded by some of the worst men in the world. Even if I were that kind of woman, Mrs. Braun, I would not have the time, let alone the energy, to carry out that kind of affair."

       Cecania nodded her head slowly, her eyes trained upon her glove-clad fingers, she was silent for a few moments after Hermione's litany. "If I have insulted you, Hermione, I apologize. I was only looking out for my younger brother."

       "I am not interested in your apologizes, Mrs. Braun," she replied coldly, as Hans returned with her drink and in turn she began to walk away, "the only thing I am worried about is why a man, who professes to love me, would allow me this time with a man that he is so suspicious of."

       The Brauns watched her walk away silently, one rather confused and the other extremely flustered. Hans sat beside his wife with a frown, his eyes still trained on the brunette who had just stormed away from their table. "What is wrong, Cecania?"

       "Honestly," she whispered, as she turned halfway in her seat to catch another glimpse of Hermione's retreat, "Hans, I cannot tell you because I do not know."

~*~

       "That Carlo Santiago is something, isn't he?" Blaise stated gently, as he leaned on door frame, glass in his hand and a smirk on his face.

       Hermione, who had been standing stoically at the bay window, looking up into the rolling hills of the countryside, turned to him with her eyebrows raised, surprised at his appearance. "He is, I can't believe that he is actually trying to pull the wool over our eyes."

       "It's his job," Blaise replied, with a shrug, "he is a politician."

       Hermione raised a weary eyebrow. "So are you."

       "Point made," he smirked, charmingly, as he approached her slowly, his legs moving in such a way that one could only characterize it as musical.

       "Do you think this will end soon?" Hermione asked, turning back to the window, and the soft mist that was masquerading as rain.

       "Of course I do, Hermione," Blaise replied, as he lay his broad fingers at the small of her back, "we have these pseudo-Death Eaters right where we want them!"

       "Then we go home," she whispered, as she wrapped her arms around her petite frame.

       "Well, don't sound so bloody happy about it, Hermione," he chuckled, charmingly, looking down at her emotionless face. "I would've thought that going home would make your little heart beat faster with anticipation."

       "I do miss Harry," she replied, with a crooked smile, "and Ginny and Ron's endless Owl's. But I'm not sure where Ian and I will stand once I return."

       Blaise frowned. After their talk the other day she hadn't acted as if it bothered her any longer but obviously it was still on her mind. "Hermione, with the mess my fiance and I are in I am not in any condition to be giving advice. However, our history calls for at least a moment of effort, so if Ian truly loves you he will be willing to work through whatever the problem is."

       "Easier said then done, Zabini," Hermione remarked quickly, still not looking up at the Italian. "You see, you know that you don't love Victoria Carrington but I know that I do love Ian Knight."

       "See right there is your biggest character flaw," Blaise chuckled, downing the last of his Martini.

       "What?" she questioned, looking up at him, her eyes narrowed and her mouth settled in a thin line.

       "You love too many men," he stated simply, nodding his head to emphasize his belief in his answer.

       "What?" she asked, again, feeling like a broken record. Quickly her eyes danced from the glass to Blaise, blatantly asking, "Are you drunk?"

       "No, no, not at all, Granger. I am completely sober, maybe that's my problem," Blaise replied, with a smirk, "you see you love more men than you can handle. First was your father, which is fine, but then comes your Gryffindor males, Dumbledore, Hagrid, the Head Boy, MacMillian, Rodion, then me and now Ian. It leaves your emotions too frazzled to allow you to think straight."

       "If you are implying that men are the reasons why women are so moody then you are completely correct," Hermione replied softly, as she looked back at the window.

       "Being male, Hermione, I reject that wholeheartedly," he said with a chuckle. "But I am implying that they are the reason that you and I are having this conversation."

       Hermione smiled. "I concur." No sooner were her words spoken before silence encompassed the pair.

        "You know," Blaise began, pausing for a moment as a House-elf filled his glass, "we used to be friends."

       "True," she whispered, turning her gaze back toward the mountains. "Now, why is that a valid statement at the moment?"

       "Because I just wanted you to know . . ." he began but trailed off as he turned to face her. Watching silently as her brown eyes looked up at him, characteristically, full of questions.

       "Know what?" Hermione asked, unconsciously playing with the thin strap of her formal dress.

       "Life without amore is no life at all," Blaise replied simply, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips, before quickly exiting the hall, not once looking back to see her reaction.

       Hermione was more than taken back by the whole scene, his moment of supposed revelation shocking her to innermost core, even with though he only managed to confused her more. Blaise wasn't by nature an affectionate man but in their years together some of her compassion had rubbed off on him; yet, she never expected him to speak so frankly with their lives being so far apart. Hermione watched him, with a frown, saunter back into the Luncheon, his countenance as aloof as it was when he had stepped out.

~*~

       Hermione,

       

                      Your letter came as quite a surprise when it arrived yesterday. I wasn't expecting you to write so soon, after the whole correspondence about Draco. Mum still isn't happy about it but she's dealing, at least she's still coming by to cook me breakfast on Saturdays so I'm not going to complain. But what I will complain about is the miles between us, how I wish I could be there with you so we could work this out.

       Hermione, I'm completely out of answers for you. What seems completely right to one could be completely wrong for another. However, I do have one puzzling, and rather personal, question for you. Did you ever talk to him about what happened? Now, before you get all indignant on me, I'm only asking did you sit down and have a completely casual conversation about the worst moment in your life; I'm asking did you ever ask him the one thing that I know has been haunting you for almost four years. I know that the answer is no, Hermione; so, that may be the one reason why coming home seems to eat at you so and, if Ian is the man I believe he is, he knows what has been going on with you. It doesn't take much to see it, especially if you know the history behind you pair.

       I hate to bring this to your attention, Mum obviously wouldn't want me to, but if there was one memorable thing about you and Blaise it would be the love you shared. You two loved each other more than any couple -- besides Mum and Dad -- that I've ever met. I guess that's why I, myself, have been wanting to ask Blaise what went wrong. Ron told me it would be in my best interest if I acted as if your relationship with Blaise was horrid from the from the very beginning. But if I did that everything would still have a flip side because if you lie there is always the truth. So, Hermione, why don't you start at the truth?

       I guess -- and maybe it's my extended correspondence with Draco Malfoy -- I am more on Blaise's side than on Ian's. Because I've seen you happier, Hermione, and like mum says 'happiness is all that matters'. So with that said I approach the more dangerous portion of this letter. I beg you do not send me a Howler and do not curse my descendants for this next proposition, please, I am begging you. Kiss him, Hermione, kiss the arrogance right out of him. It's the only way that you will figure out if what you are feeling is your heart or if it's all in your mind.

       Hermione, don't forget that love is a rather complicated emotion that you and I may never live long enough to understand.

       Your friend,

                      Ginny Weasley

P. S. I almost forgot! You should have told that Cecania Knight-Braun to go to hell! You would never cheat on Ian without knowing if he was cheating first! Now that is a moment worthy of indignation.