Razorblade Romance

"There," Hermione declared, throwing down the quill. It splattered ink over her desk, which she got rid of with a flick of her wand. "That's done and over with."

"Done with the al-Ahmed case, I suppose?" Bill asked from the doorway to her office. He leaned against the frame, arms folded. "How long have you been working on that, Hermione?"

"All day," she confessed. Bill sighed and stepped inside, striding gracefully. He plopped into the chair in front of her desk that was usually reserved for clients. He swung his legs onto her desk, deaf to her protests.

"You need to take a break, Hermione," Bill commented, interlacing his fingers behind his head. "You've been working far too much, and I know you're last to leave every night. You decipher runes, look over ancient maps, and send owls off to clients for me. All day. And you haven't used any of your time off! Why don't you take a holiday?"

"I like working," said Hermione stubbornly, scrunching her eyebrows together defiantly. "Besides, you've never complained before now. Don't you like my work?" An unexpected shyness overtook her words. She did like working for Bill's freelance curse-breaking business. He was obviously a good brother to Ron, and when Bill wasn't swooning over Fleur, he was a nice man to be around.

"I do like your work, Hermione, I'm just worried about you," said Bill genuinely, his eyes sober and untwinkling. "Ron told me that you haven't been responding to his owls lately, and Ginny's informed me that you aren't coming to the latest gathering at the Burrow."

Hermione avoided his eyes, as though the report on her desk was far more interesting than looking at Bill's handsome face. His expression softened, and he leaned over to grasp her hand. She flinched at the contact, and he let go.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked quietly. "You've been slowly withdrawing from us. Obviously, something's not right. Ron and Harry haven't been able to figure it out. I don't like it, and neither does my mum." Hermione chuckled. Mrs. Weasley had always been slightly protective of her. "Can you just tell us what's wrong?"

What's wrong? What's wrong is that I don't have anyone special in my life! Hermione wanted to scream. No one! That Devon bloke I dated--barely a week! Matthew--two weeks, three days, and two hours! Nothing works! Muggle or wizards, there's no one.

Bill was watching her critically, obviously waiting for an answer. Hermione shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it, Bill."

"Nightmares?" Bill offered. "I bet Snape could get some Sleeping Draughts for you, if you like. He's been making it for a lot of people these days."

"I'm not having nightmares!" Hermione snapped. Bill visibly winced, and she immediately felt a stab of guilt. "I'm sorry, Bill, I just--" She sighed, growing frustrated with how to say this. "Stuff has been happening in my personal life." Or lack thereof, she added privately.

Bill cocked an eyebrow. "Personal life? I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't," she said flatly. The eyebrow rose further.

"Oh!" A smile broke into his features. "Oh, I get it...No wonder you're not paying attention to Ron and Harry anymore...you've got yourself a girlfriend, then?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "No, I'm not coming out of the closet, if that's what you're wondering!"

"Oh." Bill's brief look of understanding had been replaced with thoughtful musing. "All right. Just saying that it would explain some things, that's all...Anyhow, personal life stuff I can understand. Just try not to bring it to work if you can, all right? Take a break. Go to sleep for once. Let Ron and Harry take you out to a pub once in awhile."

Hermione's lips curved into a smile, though her insides were quivering. Explain some things? Did she come off as a lesbian? Perhaps that was why the men she had been dating rejected her after a few days...

"I'll take a holiday soon, I promise," Hermione assured him, making him grin broadly. "Just one more client, all right? After that, I'll let Ron and Harry take me to pubs. Hell, I might even shag one of them if I'm drunk enough."

Bill laughed loudly, making the witch walking outside stop and stare inside before continuing her walk down the corridor.

"Good, Hermione." He patted her on the shoulder in a very brother-like way before standing up and stretching his arms above his head. He grimaced at the amount of people walking back and forth in the corridor. "I hate desk jobs. I only came back so I could be closer to the family, but now that the war's over, I'd like to get back to Egypt."

"Molly won't let you?" Hermione inquired, biting back a grin.

"Yes. She's convinced herself that the minute I leave the country, everything goes to hell." His face twisted. "Once I finally get the chance to get back to Egypt, you're coming with me."

"I've never been to Egypt," Hermione remarked.

"It's fun, you should go there sometime." Bill checked his watch, and jumped. "Bugger! I need to go check on Cassio, he's been neglecting his paperwork lately--Our next client should be arriving in a few minutes, I'll send him here, is that all right?"

Without waiting for an answer, he hurried out of Hermione's office, shutting the door behind him. She watched him leave, amused, then set about to clear her desk for the client. Having a clean, well-kept office always made a good impression.

Just as Hermione was settling into her chair, she saw the doorknob twist, and the door was pushed open. A man stepped inside, his face bowed low.

"Hello," she greeted him, standing. "I'm Hermione Granger. Do come in, take a seat."

He lifted his head as he walked towards her, and the bottom of her stomach dropped out.

Blaise Zabini. The reason she had been depressed. What was he doing in her office?

Never mind why, what about how--as in how gorgeous does he look?

He was wearing a thin black jacket, unzipped, over a white button-up shirt that clearly defined his lean form. The shirt--which was tucked in hastily, Hermione noticed--hung over a pair of black trousers, which sat smoothly on his hips. Her eyes drifted lower, but she immediately brought them back up to his face.

His thick, dark hair was longish, curling over his ears. The fringe dangled in front of his eyes, which were a light blue colour. He had always had a nasty habit of moving it out his sight with a shake of his head, followed by the swooning of nearby girls (and a few boys). His skin was a bit dark, as he was Italian, and he had always returned to Hogwarts with a tan.

Hogwarts...Hermione's chest gave a painful clench. Blaise Zabini was the boy who never returned her affection, the one who broke her heart when he didn't ask her to the Leaving Ball. The only time she had been close with him--and she had remembered it well--was when they had danced together for the opening song, as they were Head Boy and Head Girl. His scent had been delicious, and Hermione could smell it now. That scent that could in no way be created by cologne, wizarding or Muggle.

She swallowed as he stepped towards her, taking the empty client chair. She, too, sat.

"Hermione Granger," Blaise began, his voice slightly accented--had he recently been in Italy? Hermione wondered, "I have recently stumbled upon some artefacts that I believe is in your line of work."

"My--my line of work is to both keep precious materials in a safe place and to find new artefacts," Hermione replied. She mentally slapped herself. No stuttering! "Where did you...stumble upon said artefacts?"

"My uncle's home in Italy," Blaise answered coolly. "He recently passed away, and I inherited both his fortune and his house. I found them when I was cleaning out the attic. They could be valuable to both the Ministry and Muggle museums for research."

"What about your--" Hermione started to say, but Blaise cut her off.

"My parents are dead," he said brusquely, although his calm expression didn't flicker. "Now, Hermione, can you help me? I owled Bill Weasley the other day, but he insisted that I work with you instead. Apparently, he's got too many projects to start a new one, and he said that you had enough experience in these matters."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the compliments she had received from Bill. Blaise didn't seem to notice.

"Anyway, Hermione, I shall return tomorrow so we can discuss the details thoroughly. I do hope you're as good as Bill says, because there are a lot of objects to look through, all from various countries he travelled to."

"A-All right," Hermione stammered. She stood up; Blaise followed suit. "I'll be here at eight o'clock, so feel free to stop by any time."

"I will. Good day to you, Hermione." He tipped his head, giving her a mock salute with two fingers.

And with that, he strode out of the door, shutting the door behind him.

It was only then did Hermione realise she'd been holding her breath.

* * *

When Hermione stepped inside her office, she hadn't expected to see Blaise Zabini sitting in the client's chair, gripping a mug of coffee in two hands. She nearly dropped her briefcase in surprise, but she didn't manage to hide her gasp.

He swivelled around in the chair, still holding the coffee. He took a sip, peace and stillness drifting over his face.

"Morning, Hermione," he said conversationally, taking another sip. He winced. "Ooh! Too hot. Damn Muggle coffee..."

"Good morning to you, too," said Hermione as she strode to her desk, heels clicking on the floor. No, she had definitely not spent two hours that morning making herself look perfect. And she had not taken a Calming Draught for her shaking hands. Of course not. "I...I didn't expect you so early."

"You said to stop by any time," Blaise reminded her. He held up the coffee. "Sorry I didn't bring you any. I don't know how you like it."

"It's quite all right, Blaise." Yes! No stuttering! Hermione gave herself a mini-party in her head before opening her briefcase to remove a stack of parchment, a quill, and an inkbottle. "Now, do you happen to have a list of the things in your uncle's attic?"

Blaise shook his head. "Too much for me to go through. When I started finding boxes marked Egypt trip and Ancient Voodoo, I decided that I should probably stop and find someone with skills in that particular area. Namely, you," he finished, pointing at her with the hand holding the coffee, index finger extended.

"If you're looking for help with curses, I suggest you go to a the Aurors. They can point you in a better direction than I can."

Blaise looked to be resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Hermione, I'm looking for a curse-breaker. That's what you do, isn't it? When you aren't cooped up in this place?"

Hermione glanced down at her empty parchment. "Actually, I haven't been out in the field," she said quietly. When she saw his eyebrows rise, she added hastily, "Yet. Not yet. Bill wants to take me out to Egypt, though, so I can get more experience."

"But you've had your fair share of familiarity with curses, haven't you?" Blaise commented. He was gazing out the window. "Everything that happened at Hogwarts with Potter and Weasley. You three were always getting in trouble with one thing or another."

"Well, yes," Hermione admitted, "but not many of them actually included cursed objects. Mainly, we were cursing either each other or some new enemy."

As she spoke, her chest began to twist in a painful way. She missed Ron and Harry, who were living in a flat together in London not far from her own. Ron was becoming an Auror, while Harry still wasn't sure what to do yet. The last time she had seen them was a few months ago, when they had celebrated her new job at the Burrow...

"...don't care much for experience, I've just been in enough classes with you to know that you're a skilled witch," Blaise was saying. Hermione pinched herself back to attention. "As long as you get the job done, I don't care for your experience. You were recommended."

Hermione nodded, pretending that she had heard every word of what he was saying. "So...shall we set up a contract, then?"

"Let's." Blaise gulped down the rest of his coffee with a grimace, dropping the mug onto her desk when he was finished. "Damn. While I wait for it to stop being hot, it gets too damn cold."

"Shall we discuss the pay first?" Hermione suggested. Bill had told her to always talk about this subject first, because it was the one that made most clients nervous.

"Sure." He named a price. Hermione nearly fell out of her chair. "What? Is that too little? Well, how about--"

"No, the first one was fine," Hermione gasped. Why would she need that much money? It was probably enough to retire on! "Really, it's all right. Just a little unexpected, that's all. Um...how are we going to do this? Are we taking all the stuff back from your uncle's house and bringing it back here? Or--"

"No," Blaise cut in. "We'll work there. He has--had--a library, and there are tons of reference books in there to keep you happy. We can return some of the objects back, too."

"Return them?"

"There's a box marked Stuff I Stole. I would assume that it is, in fact, stuff he stole."

Hermione scribbled this onto her parchment. "Will we be Apparating? Portkeys? I know a witch in the Magical Transportation Office; we've had coffee together. I bet she could get us some Portkeys."

"Some places you can't magic yourself into." Blaise's tone was solemn, and he was looking out the window again. "We can go on those Muggle thing when we can't Apparate. You know, the ones that look like big tablets with wings? With wheels and curtains in the windows?"

"Aeroplanes?" Hermione offered, trying to hold back a smile. She failed miserably, but Blaise grinned back. His dancing eyes and handsome face made her stomach do flips, even at the age of twenty-one. You're not a schoolgirl anymore, Hermione, keep it together.

"Yes! Those things. I can cover the expenses if you can guide me around the airport. I don't know where the hell I'm going in those places."

Hermione continued to write this into the contract, finally signing her name with a flourish. She pushed the parchment towards Blaise. "Sign on the bottom line. I'll owl you a copy."

"No need," Blaise said, waving his hand dismissively while he signed his name. "I trust you."

"Very well," Hermione replied, the wiggle in her belly growing to a rapid flutter.

"Once I have things settled with my uncle's will, I'll come to your home and pick you up," Blaise announced, standing up and taking his empty mug. He tapped it with his wand, making it shrink to the size of a button. He tucked it into his pocket, and continued, "Where is your house, anyway?"

"I-I have a flat in London," Hermione answered, unaware of the words tumbling out of her mouth. She was telling Blaise where she lived! He was going to come to your home! The rapid flutter quickly turned into tumbling snakes.

"It would be nice to know the address, Hermione," Blaise reminded her.

"Oh! Right." She told him the address. "I've got the Floo open, as well."

"Excellent." Blaise looked down at his watch. "I must be going. I shall see you in a few days, Hermione."

He strode out the door, leaving it open an inch or two. Hermione realised she had been gripping the arms of her chair tightly, and loosened her hold.

There was a light knock on the door, and Bill poked his head in. She gestured for him to come inside, which he did.

"You're sweating, Hermione," Bill noticed. She glanced down at her blouse. Oh! There were wet circles under her arms that hadn't been there when she walked into work...No! Blaise must have seen it! Hermione inwardly cursed her inability to stop sweating. "Did you have a particularly hard time working with the client?"

"In a way," Hermione admitted. "He...ah...He was in my year at Hogwarts."

"Oh..." said Bill all-knowingly. " I see...an old boyfriend?"

Hermione snorted. "I wish."

"Ah. Do you need me to take it instead? I pointed him towards you."

"No, it's okay. I'll actually be getting out of the office on this one."

Bill groaned in jealousy. "Lucky you..."

Hermione smiled. Bill returned it warmly.

"Well, if it'll get you up and moving, then I'm glad. Let me know if you need any help. My Floo's always open."

"Thanks, Bill."

"No problem. Now, Cassio still isn't doing his paperwork, so I need to go threaten him with the loss of a job."

"Good luck."

"I'll need it."

As Bill left, Hermione scanned over the contract again. Her eyes jumped to Blaise's signature at the bottom, which was neat and slightly slanted to the right. The thought of spending a large amount of time with him was making her stomach clench painfully.

With a sigh, Hermione rolled up the parchment. She had some cleaning to do.