Razorblade Romance

When Hermione awoke the next morning, Blaise was nuzzling his lips into the curve of her jaw and brushing his fingers along her hipbone. She shivered, squeezing his hand to let him know she was awake.

"Morning," Blaise whispered, nibbling on her sleep-warmed neck. "Sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you," Hermione murmured, turning over to face him. He continued to stroke her hip, blinking.

"So."

"So."

"I...that was fun."

Blaise grinned broadly. "Good. I enjoyed it, as well, if you couldn't tell from the mess we've made." Hermione grimaced. "Shall I clean it up for you, then?"

"If you don't mind. I don't fancy lying in it all morning."

"Women," Blaise muttered, shaking his head. He brought the sheet closer to his body, covering the lower half as he reached for his wand on the bedside table. "Scourgify." Last night's activities disappeared with a flick of his wand. "There. That better?"

"Yes. C'mere." Hermione tugged on the sheet, pulling Blaise back. She nestled into his chest, hugging his waist. "Forgive me for this clichéd cuddling."

"It's all right," Blaise replied, throwing an arm over her shoulders and combing through her hair. "You fell asleep last night, we never had a chance to cuddle."

"Why don't you show me your legs?" Hermione asked, hoping to catch Blaise off-guard so that he would answer straight away. (It had always worked with Ron and Harry.) It didn't exactly work.

Hermione could feel Blaise tense up instantly, and he coughed uncomfortably.

"I...Why do you ask?"

"Well, you said that you don't like showing your legs," Hermione explained, propping herself up on an elbow and surveying Blaise. He was looking away, biting his lower lip. "And you turned off the lights once the clothes started coming off. I...I just want to know what it is."

Blaise swallowed, still glancing in the other direction. Hermione grasped his chin in her hands and forced him to look into her eyes.

"Blaise. I just want to know. You don't have to tell me, I--"

"No, it's okay," Blaise interrupted, pushing her hand away. He pushed the sheets away, revealing the lower half of his body.

At first, Hermione's eyes were drawn to a particular part of his anatomy that was looking very cheerful this morning. But then she saw them.

Scars.

Hundreds of them.

Everywhere.

They were white, mostly a quarter of an inch thick and two inches long. These ones criss-crossed over his shins and his ankles, startlingly bright on his coffee-coloured skin. But then there were the circular ones on his thighs that looked deeper and far more painful.

Hermione took a deep breath, aware that she was shuddering. Blaise's eyes were cold and indifferent, obviously awaiting a reply.

"Blaise..." Hermione murmured, sliding a hand across his leg. He flinched. "What did they do to you? How did this happen?"

"Do you remember that battle in Hogsmeade, seventh year?" Hermione nodded, her chest twisting as she recalled it. "Do you remember when myself and a few of the seventh-years were captured?" Hermione nodded again. "Well, they figured that since I was a Slytherin that I would give them information. When I didn't..." Blaise gestured helplessly to his legs. "That."

"How?"

"Bellatrix started with her wand," Blaise began, placing his fingertips on the smaller scars. "She used it like a quill, except she carved holes into my skin with her wand with some sort of Heating Spell, I think. When I still wouldn't give them information about Potter's whereabouts, they used a knife." Blaise gestured to his thighs. "And then the Aurors arrived."

Hermione reached over and clutched his hand. "I'm sorry. I had no idea. I figured...I figured that they had left you alone because you were a Slytherin."

Blaise chuckled. "Nope. When I wouldn't tell them anything, they treated me even worse because I was a Slytherin."

"Do they hurt?" Hermione inquired, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand.

Blaise nodded. "Because she used her wand on my thighs, the injuries are far more deeper than it looks...They go down through my muscle and bone. It kind of hurts when people touch them, and I get pains towards the end of the day. I've seen Healers, to see if they can either remove the scars, but there's nothing they can do. Too much Dark Magic intertwined with them."

"Dumbledore never told me anything," Hermione murmured.

"Because I asked him not to. No one else knows."

Hermione pressed a kiss to their clasped hands. "I won't tell anyone if you don't wish me to."

Blaise shrugged. "It's just part of the past I don't feel like telling people. I'd prefer that you not spread it around the wizarding world."

"Of course." Hermione slid closer to him, dropping a hand below his waist. "Let's see what we can make of this, shall we?"

"If you insist--oh..."

* * *

When Hermione brought Blaise with her to a party to celebrate Ron's Auror status, the reactions from her friends and honorary family was priceless.

Mrs. Weasley gasped. Ginny--who had known all along--smirked at her mother and nodded approvingly. Fred and George traded nervous glances. Ron dropped his wine glass. Harry gaped at the pair from beside Lupin, who was smiling. Tonks, on the other side of Ginny, whooped loudly and was immediately chided by Kingsley, who had wide eyes. Bill looked away.

"Zabini?" It was Harry who found his voice first. It was hoarse. "As in, Slytherin?"

"That would be me, Potter," said Blaise tartly. Hermione nudged him with her elbow, and he dropped the cruel tone. "Look. Let's not have an argument about how I'm not right for Hermione, because, frankly, I'm hungry, and Hermione told me that your cooking is superb, Mrs. Weasley." Molly blushed at the compliment, and continued to stir the soup. "And besides, it would be an incredibly unoriginal idea to tell me that you don't want Hermione dating anyone."

There was stony silence.

Lupin broke it by saying, "Well, he seems fine to me. Blaise Zabini, you say?"

"Yes," Blaise said as he and Hermione took seats between Ron and Harry.

"I ran into your uncle in Italy once."

"Really?" Blaise inquired, his eyebrows raised. "How?"

"I was there for an Order mission once. He stole my pocket watch," said Lupin mildly. Everyone broke into slightly nervous laughter, watching Blaise's reactions. The Slytherin gave a wide grin.

"Yeah, Armanno was known for nicking things out of people's pockets. Shame it didn't show up in the attic, I would have returned it to you. Pass the rolls, will you, Ginny?"

"How was Sweden, Lupin?" Hermione asked. Her former professor launched into a description of his travels, including a young girl at the age of six who had been thrown out of her family's home because she was bitten by a werewolf.

There was a hand on her thigh. Double-checking to see that both of Ron's hands were on the table, Hermione entwined her fingers with Blaise's. He smiled, squeezed her hand warmly, and asked Lupin a question about lycanthropes.

Hermione returned the smile. Everything was going to be quite all right.