Off the Beaten Path

Off the Beaten Path

It started one Monday evening in February. Not a particularly romantic evening, but there you are. The strangest things happen on ordinary days. It had been snowing all day, and I had watched it. I sat in my little window seat in my little flat and watched it snow. It didn't feel as if the world were caving in when it happened. There I was on a simple Tuesday, and all I felt was a slight murmuring in my deepest part that changed the way I thought. Suddenly he came in, and I whipped my head around from the window, wondering that I didn't see him as he entered the building from the street. He stomped his boots so that the snow came off, and unraveled himself from a tangle of scarves and mittens. He made an obscure comment about the snow really coming down, and started his usual diatribe about work at the Ministry, when all of a sudden I thought: "I don't love him."

*****

When it started in seventh year, I wasn't about to complain about the way he was never around or the way he always took me for granted - I didn't think about it so much then. It wasn't an earth-shattering romance, certainly, just something to waste your Saturday nights on. Something that annoyed you one moment, but you knew you couldn't do without the next. It was comfortable, I felt sheltered in the fact that he cared about me, and that I cared about him and it was openly acknowledged. No more running around after each other or bickering right and left. Ron liked me, and I, Hermione Granger, liked him. Why of course, we had been through a lot together, and that formed a special bond between us, but never once did I openly acknowledge the fact to myself that I was in love with him. I might have said it to him once or twice, but that just wasn't our style. I'm not the kind of woman to go about gushing over him all the time. And, come to think of it, he isn't very emotional either. It's just that we were comfortable with each other. It sat well, if that makes any sense. I'm not sure what we were expecting to get out of the whole relationship, but what we have now is, I think, a little more than we bargained for.

If you want to blame it on something, blame it on my need to economize. The way we would come and go from one another's flat all the time was starting to become downright irksome, and this of course, led me to think of an easier way of carrying on our relationship without all the mess and the commute, be it ever so slight. So, inevitably, he moved in, and at first it was annoying as all get out, but eventually it became livable, even pleasant. I liked having him around at night. That way I didn't have to turn on every single light in the flat just to prevent feeling lonely.

As you might have foreseen, without the use of that woolly Divination, the bickering didn't stop once we left Hogwarts. The bickering never seemed to stop. Sure, we had our quiet moments, but in between times, it was just like we were still a couple of teenagers, angry at being ill-used by one another. As of late, it's died down though. In fact, all communication has died down. He'll sit there after dinner and look through notes from work, or watch the telly, and I'll sit next to him with a book I have to read for work at St. Mungo's, and we'll both be very quiet. Even now, as he's changing his clothes, where he used to shout out from the bedroom at me with some story from work, now he's silent. I don't think he even realizes what's happened yet. It took me quite a while. I'm sure he'll come out in a moment with a slightly concerned look on his face, and ask if anything's the matter, and I'll say, "No, nothing," and we'll go on as we have for the past three years. If I simply say, "No, nothing," then it will go on without a hitch, and we'll have dinner as we always do off of my same little plates and make the same little comments across the kitchen table. If I say those two words, then I'll be stuck here at this window seat, watching the sky fall outside and ignoring the sky fall inside.

*****

I didn't say "No, nothing," like I thought I would. I said I had to take a vacation.

"From work?" Ron asked, frowning. I didn't like to see him frown, but I wasn't sure what else to do.

"I think I'll go home for a few weeks," I said. He looked at his plate, and then he looked at me, puzzling it out.

"I can go for awhile, if this is too much," he said with an apologetic look and a red face, almost embarrassed. I gave him an apologetic look as I said it was, and that I needed to sort things out. He nodded, almost in agreement, and not shocked disappointment. Ever since Bill died in the war, things hadn't come as too great a shock to him as they used to. He nodded once more, smiled slightly at me, and put down his fork and napkin. Rising, he came over to my side of the table, kissed me on the forehead, and that was that. He packed his things in a trice, and giving me once last hug, was out of the door. He told me he'd be at Harry's until he heard otherwise from me. I smiled sadly that it had to end and closed the door behind him.

After I did the dishes and tidied up a bit, I sat down on our - I mean my - bed, and cried a little. There was nothing to be done about it, however. People move on all the time. I was resolved that it was the right thing, and sitting up straighter and blowing my nose, I felt refreshed. Suddenly I felt that the flat wasn't as oppressive as I had come to believe, and decided to cease being governed by Ron Weasley. I was going to govern myself now. And, as a sort of first official act in this new position, I rearranged all the furniture.

*****

Waking up the next morning was, although oddly relieving, too cold and too quiet for my taste. I turned all the lights on, as though anticipating a dark stormy day, and sat down with the Daily Prophet and some tea. The whole morning I was stumbling around into furniture, forgetting that I had rearranged it all the night previous. Getting dressed and going to work that morning was extraordinary. I wasn't quite so depressed as usual, I even felt contented. I wasn't thinking about what the matter was between Ron and me. I knew what the problem was, and I had taken care of it. This feeling hearkened back to my Hogwarts days when I'd get that warm satisfied feeling after finishing a particularly difficult exam and knowing that I'd done well. I don't want you to think that I was completely heartless from the way I felt satisfied about "kicking Ron out into the cold" like that. I felt pretty wretched whenever I thought about it. But, knowing that I did the healthy thing for me was liberating and it outweighed whatever regret I might have felt concerning Ron. After all, there are no perfect endings.

So, there I sat at my desk in St. Mungo's all day, breathing deeply, trying not to smile too widely and trying not to weep. It would have been impossible to count the number of contortions my face went through that day, let alone recognize the anguish my soul was experiencing, being torn between happiness and disgust. About halfway through the day, just as I was making my way up to the cafeteria for lunch, a red-headed person came walking down the hall towards me, looking heated. It was only a few short moments before Ginevra Weasley stood before me, talking furiously.

"What's this about you kicking Ron out?" she demanded, looking extremely red. I was a bit taken aback by this accusation to say the least.

"Please Ginny; we aren't in third year anymore. Keep your voice down," I said taking her aside into a tiny alcove. "We broke it off, I didn't kick him out, and for your information, he volunteered to get out, so it isn't entirely my fault!" I said in a dangerous whisper. She steamed for a few moments, digesting the information.

"If I find out otherwise, Hermione Granger, you'll be hearing from me again... SOON." Then, with a huff, she was off down the hallway, back to where she came from, the Spell Damage ward on the fourth floor. Funny place for someone who's caused so much spell damage in her life.

Upon regaining my desk, I laid my head down, sighed deeply and was almost about to break down into tears when someone rapped on my door. I looked up, startled that someone should see me in such a compromising position, only to find Blaise Zabini, looking at me with some concern, yet with a shadow of a sneer on his dark features. I had almost forgotten such a person as Blaise Zabini still existed after all the tumult of the weekend. It wasn't a pleasant experience looking up into his Slytherin face, with my eyes all red and vulnerable. It was almost impossible at times to meet his penetrating gaze. It seemed like he could find out everything there is to know about you just by looking into your eyes.

"If this is an inappropriate time, I can come back later," he said, hovering in the doorway. Turning around in my chair, wiping my eyes, pretending to be looking for something, I stalled.

"No, it's fine. Was there something you wanted, Blaise?" I asked him with a little annoyance. He was always there to make one feel dreadfully inadequate. The two of us were at the head of our class, along with Padma Patil, but at least Padma didn't go about smirking at sneering at me.

"I've just got some reports here on a few patients I need finished by today, and some other papers that need your signature." There was a pause before he looked questioningly at me and asked, "Trouble at home?"

"So what if there is? It couldn't possibly be any less of your business." With a shrug he took my hint and walked out after dropping the papers on my desk.

That little comment from Blaise Zabini was just the very last straw. Once a Slytherin always a Slytherin, that's what I say. Having had a horrible day, the only thing I could think to do, according to an old Muggle custom, was to go out and get sloshed. I found a pub not too far from my flat and made friends with the locals. Stumbling through the haze of the pub, rather late at night, I believe it was quite miraculous the way I managed to make it to my own bed, let alone get under the covers and have taken off my shoes first. Waking up in my clothes from the night before, I was puzzled as to how I got home, when I heard a clattering of dishes from the kitchen. Thinking somehow Ron must have encountered me at the pub and brought me home, I got up and went out to remonstrate him as best I could given my condition, when, to my very great surprise, instead of the familiar red tangle that was Ron's hair, my eyes were acquainted with a large curly mass of black belonging to one, Blaise Zabini. Somehow relieved at not having to deal with Ron this early in the morning, and especially relieved that I didn't have to deal with him at all anymore, I found my voice and framed a question.

"This may seem like an absurd question to be asking, but, what the bloody hell are you doing in my kitchen?" I asked with squinted eyes and running my hands frustrated through my tangled hair. He looked down at his hands which were holding a frying pan and a box of pancake mix and, looking back up at me said, "Making breakfast, so it seems. I hardly know myself what I'm doing here."

"Would you mind explaining the little you do know about why you're here, just for some personal clarification...?"

"You know something, Granger? I never figured you for the bar-fight type. Interesting..." he paused. "Well, noticing you getting a bit tipsy and confrontational last night, I supposed you'd had one too many, so, assuming you would prefer going home, and I, knowing your address, thought you might appreciate some help getting there." I stared at him as he finished his story. Me? In a bar fight? Oh well... I was heavy drunk last night at any rate.

"Ok, I understand that part... but the reason you're still here escapes me."

"Well, finding myself equal to conveying you the very short distance home, I unfortunately found myself unequal to getting myself across town, at least not in the space of what? three hours, it must have been... So, I took the liberty of sleeping on your couch, and figured you might like some breakfast when you woke up."

"I suppose that story will have to do for now, until I can open my eyes at least." He rummaged in his coat pockets for a few moments before emerging with a small bottle and presenting it to me. "What's this?" I managed to ask.

"It's a sure-fire way of 'opening your eyes'... give it a try." I shrugged as I uncorked the bottle and took a small swig. A few moments later, my eyes were more than open.

"Very clever Zabini - a pungent mix of Pepper-Up Potion and alcohol. However did you think of it?"

"Since I came from a mixed background, I figured I'd combine the two most trusted remedies for a hangover from both worlds."

"It certainly beats coffee," I said coughing a little. He laughed. "Well, thank you for making breakfast, but I don't think I could manage it. I'm going to get ready for work - do you mind?"

"Of course not, I'm your supervisor."

"Oh, I'd almost forgotten the fact, underneath that pleasant time we were having a moment ago."

"I didn't mean to throw that in your face, I was just making a joke."

"To lighten the otherwise repressing, Ron-free atmosphere, you mean?" I said without really thinking. I knew I had said too much and made him uncomfortable, but I wasn't sure why I cared about his feelings. He looked down at the breakfast and pretended he didn't hear.

"So, tell me the real reason you're still here, Zabini."

"I liked taking care of you, so I thought I'd prolong the experience."

Hardly believing a word of this, I gave him a wan smile and walked to the bedroom, only to become even more befuddled than I was before Blaise's eye-opener.

Taking a shower a few minutes later felt like I was washing away years worth of grime. By the time I got out, he was gone.

*****

At work that morning I was unusually dedicated to my patient's release forms, and my research on an interesting new welt developed from receiving a Runespoor bite. Perhaps I was attempting to regain some dignity in the eyes of the world after that unappealing display last night, as I furiously shuffled papers around and jotted down notes. Whilst in the midst of this absorbing work, and while I was muttering to myself, Blaise Zabini (of course) once more rapped on my office door, this time with a slight smile on his face.

"What?" I said turning around, "Ah, Blaise, come to distress me a bit more?" (I figured talking quickly was a sure-fire way to distract from the uncomfortable thought of last night, so I gave it a shot.) "Never mind, but you'll be happy to know I'm making progress on this Runespoor investigation. It's really quite-"

"You know something, Granger? I believe you're embarrassed about what happened last night." He said all this with his usual aggravating charm. He continued, "You shouldn't be though. I rather admired what you did."

"What? You admire my abilities to get drunk? So drunk, in fact, that I needed someone to drag me home? It doesn't seem very flattering from my end."

"I admired the fact that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. That takes courage. It could almost be construed as a cry for help. Maybe that's why I wanted to take you home and look after you."

"So, what you're really trying to say is that you find vulnerability attractive? How typically Slytherin of you..."

"I don't think it's typical at all, even though I was unfortunate enough to be branded a Slytherin. Most of my fellow Slytherins would have been repulsed by you last night. I found it endearing."

"How wonderfully condescending of you, Blaise; that you would stoop down to such a level as mine, it really makes me feel almost human."

"Stop this Hermione, before you regret something."

After hesitating some moments, I asked him, "Will that be all Mr. Zabini? I really must get back to work."

"No," he said with a contemplative stare in my direction. He seemed to look right through me. I shivered underneath his gaze. Then as he turned away he said, "Now, that will be all Miss Granger."

*****

That night I went out to eat with Ginny. She pressured me into it, knowing I was uncomfortable talking to her, when I'd just broken it off with her brother. After we had taken a seat and ordered our food, she began.

"So, I've talked to Ron, and Harry of course. Ron's puzzled, but then what can you expect from such a thickhead?" I smiled in spite of myself.

"I didn't mean for it to seem harsh on him, I just couldn't put up with it any more. Ginny, you've been in plenty of relationships... I've been in a grand total of two. And I've never had to break it off before, looking them in the face I mean. I don't feel for him what I think I ought to feel for him if we were going to live with each other. It's as simple as that."

"I can understand. He says you were perfectly polite about it, and he doesn't harbor any hard feelings towards you, as far as I can see."

"I'm glad to hear it. He's still a tremendously good friend to me."

"Well, you deserve the best, and I'm not sure Ron was it." The two of us burst out laughing.

*****

The next few weeks were odd. I was at the same time, readjusting to being single, and getting my independent footing back and going crazy. Blaise stopped by more frequently, greatly to my dismay. Every time we met there was the usual banter, ending with me accusing him of being a dirty scheming Slytherin, and with him making some misplaced, yet oddly polite comment. Today, he seemed to be in one of his forgiving moods. I was intrigued by his manner in coming to talk to me so often, although his visits were usually more distressing than pleasing. I often found myself listening to his arguments with a mixed sense of approval and abhorrence. What I had begun to discover in Blaise Zabini was intelligence and passion, a combination the likes of which I had never encountered. Viktor was intelligent yet stolid and passive. Ron had never met a book he liked well enough to read cover-to-cover yet he was passionate for life. Any violence found in Blaise Zabini came from the violence of his convictions and he only stung his victims with words, although, I will admit that he was attractively well-built. Whenever we got into one of our discussions, his voice would abound with eloquence. At times I was thoroughly enraged, and others I simply stood in awe as he walked out of my office. I'd think about what he had said all day while signing forms and taking notes. I had undergone such an extraordinary change in attitude in a few short weeks that I even began blessing Ron's ignorant head that he was unlovable to my demanding self.

Today, Blaise was complacent, gentle, and almost friendly as he gathered up papers and put his coat on.

"I, uh... ran into Ron today in Diagon Alley while I was getting some lunch. We talked for a bit, actually," he stammered.

"You did?" I wasn't sure whether I should be either pleased or scared out of my wits, so I waited until he had finished his story to emote.

"Yes, he, um... He's a very nice guy."

"Yeah sure... where exactly is this going?"

"I just thought I'd say that, since I know us immoral Slytherins were pretty terrible to him as well as towards yourself once, so I guess today, I feel like trying to make up for that."

"I see," I said, as I sank into a reverie about Ron and myself and how we all used to be. "Well, we all have things in our past that we're ashamed of. I know I do..."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of anything. You've done wonderfully. I was just an idiot, following the crowd..."

"Don't worry about it too much. After all, it's the hat's fault you got into Slytherin." He laughed quietly, and then grew silent. I wondered what he could be thinking of, when he began.

"Hermione, could I take you out to dinner?" he said coolly.

Gathering up my papers, I said, "We aren't becoming friends now, are we Blaise? It would be such a pity to end such a perfect relationship of biting, unrestrained animosity."

"Well, I consider myself your friend. The rest is up to you." Here he inserted a casual smile. I knew when I was cornered, but I wasn't going to give in that easily.

"No thank you Blaise. I don't think I will have dinner with you tonight. I have other matters to attend to. Find someone else to take out. In fact, I know of a couple very friendly girls up on the second floor, who deal with the contagious maladies. They don't really get out much, so maybe-" By that time Blaise was out of my office. I had succeeded in my object yet I was oddly remorseful. The feeling carried me out of the building. Well, at any rate, Blaise was completely tactless... why does that sound so familiar?

*****

The day was a warm one, albeit trying. After storming out of the office in a flying rage about Merlin knows what, I found myself pacing the street that led to the pub. I could go in, I thought. But, thinking about what happened last time and the severe loss of dignity I suffered - I decided it wasn't the very best choice. Instead, I walked into a small bookstore and browsed the aisles before heading home. I absent-mindedly wound my way through side streets, thinking about nothing and everything. I thought about Blaise, and how charmingly virtuous he had turned out to be, and then I thought about Ron and grew hot with anger, and then sad and wistful. My mind was racing, and my footsteps followed the scattered pattern of my thoughts, as I finally ended up on Harry's street, where Ron was boarding at the moment. Resignedly, I thought I had to go in. Luckily for me, however, no one answered my ringing the doorbell.

It really was a remarkable feat to wander all that way in the space of an afternoon. I was halfway across town from my apartment and feeling idiotic when I decided to have a bite to eat and attempt to find somewhere to disapparate. Turning around sharply to backtrack to a restaurant I saw, I ran smack into someone... someone I didn't want to see, someone with black curly hair and a smirk.

"Rather funny the way we keep running into one another, don't you think?" Blaise said, straightening out his suit.

"Hilarious," I replied, wiping the mud off of my shoes where he had stepped on them. "I should've remembered you live in this part of town."

"So you could've avoided it?" he asked, not maliciously or accusingly, but smiling.

"Something like that. Especially if I wanted to avoid having dinner with you, which by now, according to the fates, seems inevitable."

"Are you asking me to dinner?" he said with a falsely incredulous tone, "But I might have had an engagement with Agatha from Magical Bugs! How very inconsiderate of you! I don't think it would be possible for me to ever forgive you, especially since you were in Gryffindor House and I was in Slytherin. It simply isn't done! The contrast in our characters will not allow friendship, since you are red and I am green. Utterly improbable... according to my Ancient Rune charts, that is." He was smiling again when he had finished. I was strangely drawn to him at that moment, yet ashamed and red-faced.

"Do I really sound like that still?" I conceded with downcast eyes.

"Not so much anymore, but you do admit you were stubborn and stuck up once upon a time?"

"I've been told that I was more often than you'd think, but I was never quite convinced it was truth until just now." He smiled, appreciating his own cunning.

"Then you will eat with me after all?"

I nodded. He took my hand in his and squeezed it. My heart started beating like crazy. He let it go, and I followed him.

*****

"So," I said after setting down my drink, "What made you want to take me out to dinner in the first place?"

"I wouldn't have supposed that you would be one to go fishing for compliments, Hermione Granger. You seemed so independent and self-sufficient. But then, I learn something new about you every day. First of all, you like your liquor, but you think it lessens your dignity - that means you're proud. You constantly accuse me of being immoral because I was put into Slytherin house, which means someone, and I'm merely assuming here, that someone in Slytherin once did you a great wrong. This will lead me to conclude that you aren't quick to forgive."

"Which means I have an excellent memory?" I added.

"Not quite. It means that you have a quick temper and... you're prejudiced, meaning that we can never be friends."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because you will always be wondering if I want to be your friend from some ulterior motive and suspicion would constantly come between us."

"Not if I trust you, it wouldn't."

"You do trust me then?'

"Shouldn't I?" He smiled a minute.

"There, you see. You're beginning to doubt already."

"Of course I'm not; I just don't like being lied to. So, tell me why you wanted to eat dinner with me tonight, Blaise."

"Would you believe me if I told you that I'm strangely attracted to you?"

"Does it have to be strange?"

"Your arguments about dissimilar upbringings would make it seem so. According to your statements in the past couple of days, since I have been brought up in a privileged class and a wizarding family and grew up listening to people degrade all Muggle-borns, that I could never understand your ideals or your values."

"It seems fairly straightforward, doesn't it?"

"In some ways, but in others Hermione Granger, you're very hypocritical. You claim that I am the prejudiced one, but you also are prejudiced against my people. We never make any headway in our discussions because they always end in your saying that I wouldn't understand, being the Slytherin that I am," he leaned back in his chair as if through exertion he had won the battle and was now able to relax.

"I won't say I haven't been treated unfairly by a Slytherin, and I won't say that I didn't hate every single one of you at several moments in my life, but I also won't deny that I can be very prejudiced against a group of people who hold the value of the lives of the people I love as cheap as dirt."

"So, you're trying to tell me quite frankly that you could never love a Slytherin because some were misguided?"

"When have I ever had occasion to love a Slytherin? When has their status as a Slytherin ever done me any good? At any rate, I refuse to connect specific people and instances with general sentiment."

"But you do that every day!"

"How do I?" He didn't answer immediately but became slightly flushed. I had never seen him lose his cool quite so easily as at that moment.

"Hermione, if I have offended you by my manner of soliciting your friendship now when I had never sought it before, I apologize. But, I want you to think about how offensive my behavior has been when compared with unwarranted disgust and insult in the face of friendship. I'll see you around the office, right now I have some things to take care of," and with that he was gone. Without quite knowing what to do, I thought the best thing for my overwhelming pride was to order dinner and eat it.

Heartless, I know I had been before, considering Ron and Viktor, but I felt differently about this one. There was a slight ache every time I thought about Blaise walking out of the restaurant, and I knew something had happened in all of this nothing. Feeling exceptionally guilty, I found a bathroom stall to disapparate in and found myself alone in my flat with the lights on. Contemplative, and having nothing else to do on a Thursday night, I sat and thought about other people. I didn't want to single myself out as the only unhappy person in a dead-end relationship. I looked at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley - they loved each other, no matter how much they fought. I thought about my own parents - slightly deluded, but content. I wondered about Harry and Ginny - an odd match, but it fit and they seemed so in love. Perhaps what Ron and I were about wasn't about love at all. Maybe it was about keeping pace with the rest of the world, thinking love was miraculous and something to hold dear to, no matter what. It was a safety net; something to catch you if you had a bad day or a bad week, that allowed you to say, "at least I have that," and move on, hallucinating.

I didn't want it to be this way with Blaise. He wasn't a rebound guy - he was the real thing. I wanted to push him away because I thought perhaps having nothing was better than getting hurt again. But was I hurt by Ron and Viktor? No, they were hurt by my hands if anything. I just wasn't satisfied, I never am.

Resting my head in my hands, hunched over on my couch, I remembered that famous line, "better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." It put crazy ideas in my head; all these insane beautiful ideas that I had never really cherished about anyone since Lockhart were flowing through me, coursing like a river. I was lost in them. I lay down on the couch and drifted into a pleasant sleep, and didn't wake up until I heard the phone ring the next morning.

*****

"Hello?" I said, groggy but dreamily, as I had awakened from a deep slumber.

"Hermione, this is Blaise Zabini. I'm sorry to call you like this, but its 10:15 and you're not here. Being your supervisor I didn't have any other choice but to call you."

"Oh shoot! You're right! I'm sorry, Blaise, I must have overslept. Sorry you had to call; I know you don't relish it."

"Me? I think you have some things confused Hermione. I must be going now. I hope to see you here as soon as possible," and with that he hung up.

Feeling persecuted, but still drunk with pleasure from my dreams, I dressed and went into work. I sat down at my desk, feeling like an idiot, gazing at the floor, and thinking about my shameful behavior towards Blaise. Then he walked in, looking stern, like I was a naughty child he had to punish.

"Hermione, could I see you in my office please?" he said not even looking at me.

"Right now?" I asked, trying to delay the unpleasant moment for as long as possible.

"Yes, right now." Was that a shadow of a smile I saw on his face? Or was I simply imagining it? We walked down the hall to his office, and he shut the door behind me. He began, "I'm supposed to reprimand you for coming in late and showing a lack of responsibility, because I'm your supervisor." My heart was beating double-quick time and I was holding my breath. I just hated being wrong and ashamed in front of him. "But, I'm going to spare you the lecture." I breathed out. "I'd rather tell you a story."

"What sort of a story?" I asked, slowly lowering myself into the chair across from Blaise.

"You'll see. It all began in fifth year, when several young people of our acquaintance were in school at Hogwarts. There was a young lady with quite a lot of hair and quite a lot of brains, and there was a young man, with a dark reputation. Their names were Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger."

"Enough with the charade, Blaise, just say what you have to say."

"Very well. Malfoy, as you know, ruled Slytherin House back in the day with his money and his father's power. He could have anything he wanted, except he didn't have Potter's abilities. He wanted that power more than anything, and he would have done anything to make Potter miserable. It's my opinion that he wanted to be Potter, to be loved by everyone as Potter was."

"He should have realized that was impossible," I muttered under my breath.

"The one thing I hadn't figured out until seventh year was that Malfoy wanted the one thing that Potter and his friend Weasley had, that he could never have, and that was the love of one, Hermione Granger."

I scoffed at him.

"Malfoy wanted to make my life as miserable as possible. He never wanted anything from me, except what I wouldn't let him have..." I faded away.

"Which was?"

"He wanted me to - No, I can't."

"He almost hurt you, didn't he?"

"He came very close. Luckily Ron was there to pull him off me."

"So, now I understand why you don't like the creed of Slytherins. But, I could tell that he was obsessed with you long before the war started."

"I don't believe you."

"No, you wouldn't. You're stuck in your unfathomable hatred of us, of me."

"I don't hate you."

"If you hate a few Slytherins you'll end up hating me too. Which is why I can't ever tell you-" he cut himself short.

"Tell me what?" I asked after a pause. He merely shook his head.

"I knew he cared about you. The way he would always talk about you and your friends with such scorn."

"Doesn't seem like too great an indicator of affection to me... Especially if you knew all that he had done to us."

"But I do know it all. You forget that I was in his dormitory. Thwarting you three and all Gryffindors became an obsession with us. In fact, I was the one who fabricated those "Weasley is our king" badges."

"That was you? I don't believe it. So that's why you felt so remorseful the other day. That's why you wanted to take me out to dinner! To soothe your guilty conscience! Have you any idea of how miserable those made Ron feel? He was more dejected than I'd ever seen him! Did you help write that stupid song as well? Really brilliant of you."

"I'm not proud of it, Hermione. I called you in here to explain. I knew you'd fly off the handle." He looked at me imploringly. I didn't want to go on defending Ron all my life. I had to move on, and this might be my only chance. Ron didn't really deserve to be defended that well anymore. It was me who deserved defending, and I was going to have to do it by myself. There was no Ron here anymore to protect me from this Slytherin.

"Explain then, but I'm not promising to believe you."

"I'm just asking to be heard. I'm sick of hiding behind Malfoy, especially now that he's gone. I wanted to be accepted, and I know I was disgusting - but I've changed now. I started thinking for myself when Voldemort came back, instead of blindly joining his ranks. Yes, I wish I had never hurt your feelings, or your friends, but that's not why I wanted to take you out."

"Why then?" I asked looking at my feet, breathing quickly.

"Because - Now, you have to promise me you won't disregard what I say, just because I have a bad reputation as being a Slytherin."

"I'll try not to. Now, tell me why."

"It honestly wasn't to soothe a guilty conscience... It's because you are the one woman I have ever met who I respect. I think you are superior to all others, and I want you for myself, and no one else," he paused with purposeful intensity and walked over to me, sat down, and took my hand again, looking at it and not at my face.

"You don't know me, Blaise - not really. I can't make anyone happy. I can't even make myself happy."

"Hermione: let yourself be loved, just this once." He was so close to me now, I could count his eyelashes. He kissed me, and without hesitation, with utter abandonment I gave in to it. For once, kissing this man, I wasn't suspicious. It is easier to believe you are loved when you really and truly are. Laughing at my seriousness in the face of first love, and rejoicing in that of the true that I had found, I kissed him again.

*****

Walking out of Blaise's office, and lighter than air, I marched right past Ginny Weasley, not even noticing her until she ran in front of me, blocking my way.

"Hermione Granger, I've never known you to be so rude! Look at you, you're grinning like a Cheshire cat! What's the occasion?"

"Didn't you know, Ginny? It's Friday!" I said, grinning at her.

"Well, I know its Friday, but no one grins like that just because it's Friday unless they have a really hot date... Wait a minute - You're not on the rebound are you? Watch out Hermione, they're dangerous. Trust me, I've been there."

"You don't need to worry about that Ginny," I said and waved my left ring finger at her. Rebound my ass.