Resolving

Six

Blaise's First Day of School

Blaise woke up the next morning and stretched lazily for a moment before remembering where he was. He quickly looked at his watch and sighed, relieved slightly. Only 7:30. Half an hour until breakfast was over. Then he froze again. What about the schedules? All the students needed schedules, and he didn't have their schedules made up! He jumped out of bed and went into the other room, praying the schedules were on his desk. They were. On top of the stack of neatly piled schedules was a note.

Zabini,

First day of teaching and you're not up yet? Tsk, tsk. What will Granger say to you about efficiency and looking good in front of your students? Here are your students schedules, now get to breakfast. And don't forget your clothing, I don't wish to go blind yet.

--Snape

Laughing, Blaise went back into his bedroom and dressed very quickly in green robes, transferring the wedding ring he had put in the pocket of his black robes into one on his green robes, casting a Disentangle Hair charm as he dashed out of the door and down to the Great Hall. Before he went in, he straightened himself up, arranged his face to a cool, impersonal look and entered the Hall.

He walked over to the Slytherin table and handed out schedules, according to the name on the paper, asking who was who as he went down the table. Once he was finished, he went up to the High Table and sat down to eat.

"My, aren't we a late riser," Snape said, eating his porridge.

"Very funny," Blaise replied, putting toast on his plate. "Why didn't you wake me when you put the schedules in my room?"

Snape gave him a tiny, amused smile. "You looked so peaceful; I didn't want to disturb you. Besides, you're much more amusing if you're late and annoy Granger. Just look at her. I don't think I saw her so annoyed since Sibyll told her she had a dead aura and would die alone."

Blaise snorted into his coffee. "She said that?"

"Right before Granger told her that 'you're only predicting your own future, you drunken old bat!'" Snape replied.

Blaise laughed. "I knew Hermione had it in her."

Snape rolled his eyes, and said, "Then you should speak to her before your head explodes from her staring at you." He nodded in Hermione's direction, and Blaise turned to look at her. She was staring at him and blushed when he turned to catch her eye.

"Good morning, Blaise," she said.

"Morning, Hermione," he replied.

"I trust you slept well." She raised an eyebrow at him, sipping her coffee. He felt his face grow hotter.

"I forgot to set my alarm. Won't happen again, trust me." Blaise smiled at her, and she smiled back unexpectedly.

"Good. I saw you giving out the schedules, thank you. Severus," she said loudly, giving Snape a pointed look which he ignored, continuing on with his breakfast and picking up a copy of The Daily Prophet to read, "neglected to inform anyone but the Headmistress that he was giving up his Head of House job to you, so needless to say, I was a bit nervous when I saw the Slytherin's hadn't gotten their schedules yet when I came in."

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a wondering, amused look. "Why were you worried? I thought it was Snape who was Deputy Headmaster, not you. There's no need for you to worry over the administrative details, Hermione. Looks like you haven't changed quite as much as I thought."

The smile on her face froze, and she gave him a cold glare. "How would you know how I've changed, Blaise? You haven't been here. Not for five years. So don't you dare to presume you know anything about me. That time passed; I'm a different person now, with different interests. I suppose you've heard I was seeing Draco Malfoy?" He nodded, shifting into a more comfortable position in his chair. She held up her left hand. On the ring finger was a very large and very sparkling diamond ring. "Well, he proposed. We're getting married next summer. I expect you'll get an invitation at some point. Excuse me, I have to go. Some of us recognize our duties in being the Head of a House and what that represents." Hermione got up and left, her back stiff and face pinched and annoyed.

He finished his breakfast quickly and quietly, despite many attempts by Snape to lure him into conversation. After finishing, it was ten minutes before classes were due to start, so he left the table to go wait in the classroom and prepare himself for the upcoming lessons.

Once he arrived in the classroom, he smiled at it when he stepped inside. After five years of moving about, houses and apartments that he hadn't been certain he'd return to and a life filled constantly with stress and anxiety, it was both the most calming and exciting thing to be back in the one place that had been completely stress- and worry-free that he had ever lived in.

Running his fingers over the old, scratched wood as he walked towards the front of the room and his desk, his smile grew. He ducked behind a tapestry to find the door to his office. Opening it, he found all of his office things and curriculum information on his desk, with the books that his students would be using set out on the shelves. Now his smile was transformed into a grin, and he sighed happily. Then his thoughts drifted to Hermione and her engagement. She was getting married. The thought hit him hard. As much as he had ever dallied with other women (not that there had been many; when you're on the run for your life, romance is not on the top of your list), Hermione was never far from his thoughts.

It wasn't that she was more beautiful - in fact, she was quite plain, compared to some of the women that he had pursued and that had pursued him. If she had beauty (which, he was inclined to think, she did), it wasn't a showy sort. You had to look for Hermione's beauty, under her surface. It took forever, though, since she was a tough nut to crack, but once you had, it was completely worth it. Thinking about his relationship with her - had it been a relationship? After all, they had been only seventeen, which was so young - it wasn't long until he came to the decision that he was in love with her, and always had been. It wasn't quite the shock he expected. He supposed he'd always known it, somewhere, subconsciously.

She'd balanced him out, in a way. Been an anchor for him, when his family had been torn apart, literally right in front of him. He felt so much at peace around her, just talking to her, being with her. She made him so comfortable with himself, when he had grown up being displeased with who and what he was. Blaise Zabini, a mind-reader. His life turned completely around when he moved into those chambers with her. He stepped out of being another minion of Draco Malfoy and into being himself, Head Boy, and the virtual second savior of wizard-kind, if they had known about the threat his sister had been.

Glancing at his watch, he swore under his breath. Eight thirty-three. The students would be waiting outside the door. He grabbed the book that the first years would be using and left his office, placing the book on his desk, and went to the door.

The students lined up outside the classroom door looked mildly annoyed and somewhat frightened. He motioned them in and strode ahead of them to the front of the classroom and his desk.

"Hello, I'm your Charms professor, Blaise Zabini," he said, writing his name on the chalkboard in his neat, cramped writing. "You can call me Professor Zabini. This is Beginning Charms. For the next hour and fifteen minutes you will be introduced to one of the most useful subjects you will ever need to know." He turned to face them and saw wide eyes and some quivering looks. One girl, he noticed, was shivering. He hoped it was because of the cold. Deciding he was being far too brisk, he smiled at the children and saw them relax. "But for now, I'll just call the roll."

Picking up the roll sheet, he started reading off of it. "Amsden, Reed?"

One of the boys in the back, who was wearing a Gryffindor uniform said, "Here."

"Yates, Brennen?"

A boy in Ravenclaw colors said, "Here."

"Lind, Tate?"

This time a Slytherin. "Here." He nodded to him, and the slight, dark boy nodded back.

"Pierson, Tatum?"

"Here," a girl wearing a bronze-and-blue tie said.

Calling the rest of the roll, he memorized who was who and in what House they were. Gage Fletcher was another Gryffindor, sitting in the back with Reed Amsden. Audrey Calder was a Gryffindor also, but ignored her fellow Housemates, instead sitting with the female Ravenclaws, Tatum Pierson, Vala Warren and Baxter Ansley. Glenda Fleming, a Hufflepuff, was ignored by the other girls and sat instead with Wallace Thorpe, a Gryffindor, who was sitting quietly away from his Housemates.

He let them all settle in before starting on the beginning of his lecture. "Since this is the first lesson, we probably won't be doing much magic, so please, put your wands away, and if we have time at the end of the class, I'll teach you a trick or two.

"Charms," he began, "will probably get you out of many sticky situations. I've been most interested in Charms since I was at Hogwarts, and as it's only been five years since I left, it's not as if my interests changed much. In one month of those five years, I've used the spells that the subject of Charms will teach you more than you will probably use in all your seven years here at Hogwarts. But you always have to remember: Magic has a price. Some spells will leave you feeling fine, not tired at all, but having shortened your life by fifteen years. Others will leave you bedridden for months, not having taken any of your time away but the time spent recovering.

"I always liked Charms more than anything else, mostly because I was the best at it." He laughed, and a few of the braver students laughed along with him. "Other than being the best at it, I was quite fond of it. It was actually really fun and the charms were really interesting. I remember once when I was away writing a thesis on the Engorgement Charm because I was very, very bored." He noticed one of the student's hands was up. "Yes... Amsden?"

Reed, who looked like a troublemaker to Blaise, nodded. "Why were you bored, sir? I thought you were traveling on a good time."

Blaise laughed. "No, I was doing some work that sprung up after the Second War. I had fallen off a cliff while in the Philippines, and while in the hospital, I was so bored I just wrote one out from memory. I sent it to an old professor of mine, and he told me it was the worst thing he'd ever read. Of course, the next time I heard from him, it was accompanied by a Charms theoretical discourse magazine that he'd had my paper published in."

The second after he mentioned the article being published, Baxter Ansley's hand shot up. Blaise nodded at her. "You were published?"

Blaise nodded again. "Yes, but just in this not very well known magazine. Mostly to keep publicity away from me, since I'm a very private person and I didn't want any attention on my name while I was away, either. But that has nothing to do with what we're doing now, so please, let us continue on with our lesson."

An hour later, the lesson was done, homework was handed out, and Blaise sat down to relax for a few moments before the next class began.

The fifteen-minutes break flew by as if only seconds. Soon - too soon for Blaise's standards, didn't these kids need time to relax or something? - there was a knock on the classroom door and he called to whoever it was, "Come in."

Students came filing in, including the three he had rode with on the ride from King's Cross, who sat in the very front row, even though the boys looked very put out by that. He smiled at the whole class and repeated the introductory speech he'd given the first years. After finishing it, he glanced down at his desk and said, "I suppose I shall now call roll."

He called most of the names, including the kids he knew from the train and then came to one that made him raise his eyebrows and quirk the corners of his mouth in an amused smile. "Alastair Moody?"

A boy who was lounging around in the back with his feet on the desk raised his hand lazily. He had sandy red hair and bright blue eyes. His face looked remarkably like Mad Eye's might, but without all the scarring and the missing bits. "Here," he said.

Blaise reached down to his desk and picked up his wand, flicking it at Alastair. His feet shot off the table and instantly glued themselves to the floor. Alastair yelped and tried to move his feet. "Stop it," Blaise ordered, and the boy ignored him, still trying to free his feet. "The spell will wear off when class is over, don't be so sensitive. What would Mad-Eye say?"

Alastair glared at him. "I dunno what my granddad would say, but he bloody well wouldn't glue my feet to the floor!"

Blaise laughed. "Then you don't know your grandfather, boy. You should've seen what his impersonator did to an old schoolmate of mine. And if that was the imposter, only think what the real thing would've done." He twiddled his wand between his fingers as he surveyed the class. "I might be right in thinking that Professor Lovegood was a tad less strict that I am. Wonderful at Charms, I know, but definitely less strict. If I find that any of you have been misbehaving in my class you will receive not only detention, but thirty points will be taken from your House. Misbehavior includes talking during my lessons so you two in the back, take heed." Two girls who had been giggling in the back of the classroom grew quiet as he addressed them.

"Charms is a serious subject, for all the name of it bestows the image of fairies and frippery. I take it extremely seriously, and so should you. Not only can you use it to cook and prepare clothing items, you can use it for virtually every sort of magic that is possible, except, perhaps, some types of Old Magic.

"This year you will be tackling some of the hardest spells that, when I was a student, we didn't take until seventh year, if that. My reason for teaching you these spells is that, in this day and age, it is completely possible that out of the wreckage of the Second War another, most certainly more insane, Dark Lord will rise and try to remake Lord Voldemort's reign of terror.

"These charms are meant to help you to protect yourselves and never do I ever want to hear of any of you practicing on another student. If I do hear so, and if it is proven true, I will try my hardest to have whichever student that did such a thing expelled." He gave them a very hard look and made some of them squirm. "With that, I will continue on with your lesson."

The rest of the lesson went smoothly, except for Alastair's brooding in the back, but that didn't bother Blaise or the rest of the students. He skipped going to lunch and instead got something from the kitchen and then taught the other two classes he had - second years' and Advanced Seventh Year Charms - before walking, grateful that it was all over for the day, to the Great Hall for dinner.

Blaise was slightly relieved to see Hermione wasn't at the High Table yet. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he slid into his chair and felt the ring that he'd put there that morning. He thought about taking it out and slipping it onto his finger, telling Hermione what he'd done with Louise the moment he saw her so that she couldn't kill him, since it was a public place, but he decided that it was better if he told her in private so she wouldn't feel humiliated in front of everyone.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and began to drum them onto the tabletop as his nervousness grew more and more. The teacher's door opened up and Hermione stepped through, laughing at something someone behind her was saying. She stopped though, when she caught sight of him. She gave him a grim smile and sat down.

"Do you still want to have that chat tonight?" she asked, as McGonagall sat down. He nodded.

"Yes."

"Then after we're done eating, I'll get up and leave and wait for you in the Entrance Hall. Wait a few minutes and then follow me. We'll go to my chambers to talk, if you don't mind. Since you've only just gotten here I doubt you have a lot of furniture to speak of." When she finished talking, Hermione just looked at him, as if expecting an answer.

"That sounds like a good plan," he replied. Giving her a teasing smile, he went on, "But me going into your chambers, unescorted, won't that seem a bit... improper for an unmarried young woman such as yourself?"

She looked at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. "And what about young unmarried men like you? Wouldn't that seem improper, hmm?"

Blaise had just taken a sip of pumpkin juice before she spoke and swallowed it the wrong way. He started to cough and hack until the juice came out of his lungs before he replied, "Well, we'll talk about that tonight," in a way that made Hermione frown deeply at him and her lips thin in her most serious manner.

"I suppose we shall," she said, turning back to her own dinner.

Snape, who had sat down next to Blaise just as Hermione did, overheard the entire thing and nudged Blaise. "Is there something that you would like to tell me, Zabini?"

Blaise schooled his face into his most blank expression. "No, I don't think so, Severus. Is there?"

Snape looked at him for a moment more before glaring at him and turning back to his dinner.

Dinner seemed almost to go by at a snail's pace for Blaise. Though at moments he was glad of that, since he was incredibly nervous about telling Hermione his situation with Louise, he was anxious to get to talk to her and tell her his reasons for leaving her for five years. He had known when he left how long he might be gone. The fragment of Lilithe left inside of him told him how good these men were at hiding, and he had taken all of that into account when he went after them. Hermione, however, he had left in the dark about it. About all of it. And he had done it on purpose. He couldn't bear to have her know what he was about to do, going out into the world to track down men and kill them. He didn't want her to know that to be able to kill them he would have to go to the worst places in the world, do the worst things and finally, when he got down to the moment of their death, he wouldn't be an executioner. He would be a murderer.

That was what he was, five years later and back to his old home. Thirteen times a murderer, and yet here he was, a free man. The filth that itched beneath his skin from his added infidelity to Hermione didn't help his conscience any, and the added news of her engagement made him want to seethe in anger, to choke the life out of Draco Malfoy until he had no more competitors. Until Hermione was his.

But he recognized these thoughts as things that came from the absorption of Lilithe when he killed her. He knew that in his own mind, without her influences, he still considered himself a murderer. But he did not want to harm Hermione's well-being in any way. If Draco Malfoy was the one who made her happy, then he wanted her to be with him. To marry him. Hell, he would even be the best man at their wedding if it came down to it.

He was in the middle of inner analysis when Hermione nudged his elbow discreetly and got up, leaving the Great Hall. This is it, he though, picking at his napkin. After tonight, she'll hate me and our relationship will never be the same again. Ever.

Five minutes passed and he got up and left, too, ignoring the few titters and whisperings from decidedly feminine vocals chords. Before he left, he heard an outburst of, "But he's so cute!" before whoever spoke was shushed. Upon closing the door, Hermione beckoned him after her, and she led him through the hallways to a room that appeared to be in a tower and opened the door to go in, leaving him to follow and close it.

As he turned around to close the door, a small crystal vase flew by his head to explode on the doorframe.

"What the hell?" he yelled, turning around only to duck as she threw a book at him.

"Five years, Blaise!" she screamed. "Five years and not one fucking letter! No calls, letters, Floo messages, nothing! You could've been dead and I wouldn't have known! How dare you leave without telling me! How dare you let me think you would be gone only for a few months! You bastard! I hate you!" By this time, Blaise was standing up and walking towards her as she crumpled down and was crying. As he got closer, she started to sob. "I hate you, I hate you."

He knelt beside her and pulled her close to him slowly, placing her arms around her shoulders. "No, no, you don't," he crooned to her. "No, you don't."

"Yes," she cried, trying to wipe her running nose with the corner of her robe, "yes, I do. I hate you. You left me, you never wrote, I didn't know... I didn't know if you were dead or alive or what, and you weren't there!"

"Shh," Blaise said, rocking her back and forth as she turned and clung to his robes, her face buried in the crook of his neck. "Shh, you don't. You don't hate me."

"I don't hate you," she admitted, sniffling more and crying less. "I never could, you know. And I tried. I tried for a long time."

"I know," he said. "I tried to forget you. I couldn't, either." She snuffled into his neck again, and he continued, "I really couldn't. You seemed to be branded into my brain. I can't get you out, Hermione."

"I know," she said, crying a bit more again. "I couldn't get you out either. I don't know why, but I couldn't!"

He laughed. "I know why."

She peeked up at him and said, suspiciously, "Why?"

He leaned his head down and rubbed his nose against hers. "Because you love me."

"That could be it," she said, moving forward to kiss him. He backed away from her quickly before she could. "What's the matter, Blaise?" She frowned at him, wiping her eyes and trying to bring him closer.

"I told you at dinner that we'd have to talk about some things, remember, Hermione?" he said, nervously.

"Yes, I remember. But can't they wait for a while?" She moved towards him again and he moved backwards again, falling over his own feet and scrambled back to the wall. "I swear, Blaise, it's almost as if you didn't want me to kiss you."

"I don't," he admitted. She stared at him and began to speak, but he cut her off. "It's not for anything like that," he said quickly. "I still, well, I still love you, Hermione. But when I got back, I met someone." Her look hardened as he said this. "It wasn't serious when I met her," he continued, as her face became more and more closed off. "But the night before last, she came over and we went out to get some drinks and I woke up the next morning and... It seemed, during the night, we got married." Hermione's mouth dropped in outrage. "I'm sorry. It gets worse. You know I don't know anything about Muggle contraceptives. I must admit I never knew much about Wizard contraceptives, either. So she might be pregnant."

The blood drained from Hermione's face. Her mouth remained open as she moved to sit against the opposite wall. "Pregnant?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded. "Zel's staying with her, and then they're going to the doctor's when they have a firm suspicion, and she said she'd tell me once they found out."

"And what happens then?" she said, her head hanging and fingers rubbing her temples.

"She doesn't want a baby," he said. Hermione breathed a tiny sigh of relief. "But I do." Her head snapped up at him, and her face had shock written all over it. "So she's going to have the baby and I'm going to keep it. And then we'll get divorced."

"What?" she said. "You're kidding me, right? This is just a practical joke you're playing on me, aren't you? You're not really married and maybe having a baby?" She started laughing hysterically. "Great joke, Blaise. Great fucking joke! Next time pick something a bit less nerve-wracking!"

He stared at her. "It's not a joke," he said. "Louise might be pregnant, and if she is, I am keeping the child. She doesn't ever have to know about wizard-kind, since the baby will most likely be a witch or wizard, and I don't have to break the Statue of Secrecy. I want this baby, Hermione."

"Why?" she said, giving him an incredulous look. "Why would you want this baby? Why not let the girl get an abortion if she is pregnant? Why keep it?"

She went on and on at him, picking at his decision, until he blew up and shouted at her, "Because this is the baby we'll never have. You're marrying that sod, and I'm not going to ever be with you, so we'll never have children, but at least, I'll have this child. I'll have a child to occupy myself as you and Draco go off to your exotic honeymoon and you shag until your brains run out your noses. And then I'll be able to forget you." He stood up and so did she, slowly, as she stared at him in shock.

"Oh, Blaise-" she started. He held a hand up and turned away from her, walking towards the door.

He glanced back at her before he shut the door behind him and said, "Goodnight, Hermione."