*huggle everyone*
Nov. 16th, 2004 01:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skoosiepantsWell, haven't heard back yet about the house. Didn't expect to, though, but I really hope they decide soon or I'll go crazy :) Thanks for all your well-wishing!
I've decided to resurrect my defunct Blaise/Hermione gift fic that is no longer a gift fic since I submitted my other one instead. Which is actually freeing, so I can just do whatever the hell I want to it. The flow is still really wierd, so I'll probably only post it here, and some things may still give it away to the author so I can't post it in its entirety until after the middle of December. And after it's done, of course, since I'm still in the process. But here's a cookie-ish raw thingamagig that won't give stuff away. Yeah. Oh, and I've made it into an AU, so if anything seems wierd, that's why.
****
On New Years, Harry rang.
He was at a party, cheers and laughter nearly covering her voice, and she had to shout Hello three times before he could hear her properly.
“Hang on,” he yelled back, and then the crowd faded away and Harry was huffing slightly into the cell, a laugh caught in the back of his throat. “Sorry. It’s a little wild here.”
“Yeah, I could tell.” She pressed the receiver hard against her ear, as if it would make him closer. It was good to hear his voice, and it was so silent in the flat these days. “How are you? How’s your holiday?”
“Good, good. Yours? I miss you, you know.”
Hermione could hear the smile in his voice and her eyes started to prick. She blinked quickly and cleared her throat. “I miss you too,” she said thickly. “Not much going on at the flat, though Millie should be back sometime tomorrow.” She gripped the phone tightly. “When are you coming home?”
“Soon,” he said cheerfully, and Hermione knew the break had done wonders for him. He seemed so happy. “Is Blaise back yet? Can I talk to him?”
“Um…” She trailed off, then went on carefully, “I haven’t heard from him, Harry.”
There was a silent pause, then a harsh exhalation. “You haven’t… Why?”
“I,” she tapped her fingers on the countertop, unsure of what to say, if she should even bring up their argument.
“Hermione, what happened?” he asked worriedly.
“A fight,” she blurted out. “We had a fight, Harry. Before Christmas. I… I haven’t heard from him since.”
“About what?”
She rubbed the back of her neck and mumbled into the phone.
“What?”
“You,” she sighed. “It was about you.”
“Me? That’s a silly thing to fight about,” he admonished, then went on incredulously, “Really, me?”
“Yes, you. And Oliver.” Blaise had accused her of coddling the boy. He didn’t understand that Harry needed to be petted and loved.
“Oh.”
She waited a beat, but he didn’t say anything more. “Oh? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” Her voice was just a tinge hysterical.
“Well,” he drew out, and she could practically picture him rocking back on his heels, “that’s sweet and all, Hermione, but you and Blaise shouldn’t be fighting about me and Oliver. I mean, it isn’t something that should really break you up, do you think?”
“Break us up?” she asked softly, shaking her head. “Harry, we weren’t going out.”
Harry dismissed her protest offhandedly. “Of course you were.”
“No, we—“
“He cooked you dinner most nights.”
“He cooked us all dinner most nights,” Hermione countered.
“He bought you a bracelet on your birthday. A very pretty bracelet. That sparkled.”
Hermione almost chuckled at his envious tone. “He’s a friend. A close friend.”
“Who sleeps in your bed,” he pointed out blithely.
“Er…”
“And I’ve seen you wearing his t-shirts. Which just about screams ‘girlfriend,’ you know. Face it, you two are dating.”
“I…” Hermione stared at the tile above the kitchen sink, pressing a hand to her flip-flopping stomach. Oh gods. They were dating. “Shit.”
“No need for a potty mouth, missy. Details now, did you break up with him, or did he break up with you?”
“I didn’t know we were going out!” she cried, frustrated. “How could I have broken up with him?”
“Right. So, let’s go with the theory that he’s broken up with you. Although I really can’t see that happening. He’s head-over-heels in love with you.”
“What?” They’d been dating, and now Harry was saying Blaise loved her? It was just too much to take in. “Harry…”
“And you love him.”
“Harry,” she stressed, her tone exasperated. She rolled her eyes and sent a silent ‘well, duh,’ up to the cracked plaster ceiling. And it was surprisingly easy to admit to herself, even though she’d been in denial for weeks.
“And you definitely should not,” he went on, ignoring her, “be fighting about me.”
“You mentioned that already,” she grumbled.
“You should call and apologize.”
Shoving a hand into her hair, she tugged on her curls. “Call where? I don’t know where the hell he is!”
“Of course you do,” Harry protested genially.
“No, I—Oh.” Her eyes rounded with realization.
“See? You know.”
Well, she knew, but that didn’t mean he was actually there. “But do you really think he’d--?”
“Yep.”
“And now I have to--“
“Oh yes.”
“But he hates him!” I hate him, she added in her head. Damn Malfoy.
“Not really.”
Which was true. Everyone hated Malfoy but Blaise, who would bear the blond’s insults with a grin, then ruffle Malfoy’s hair affectionately and murmur “Ruddy bastard” in such a way that alternately made the git blush and scowl and, occasionally, stutter. “Damn.”
“You might want to go see him, actually. Groveling’s better in person, I’ve found.”
****
Does anyone know if the term "dating" is used in brit-speak?
I've decided to resurrect my defunct Blaise/Hermione gift fic that is no longer a gift fic since I submitted my other one instead. Which is actually freeing, so I can just do whatever the hell I want to it. The flow is still really wierd, so I'll probably only post it here, and some things may still give it away to the author so I can't post it in its entirety until after the middle of December. And after it's done, of course, since I'm still in the process. But here's a cookie-ish raw thingamagig that won't give stuff away. Yeah. Oh, and I've made it into an AU, so if anything seems wierd, that's why.
****
On New Years, Harry rang.
He was at a party, cheers and laughter nearly covering her voice, and she had to shout Hello three times before he could hear her properly.
“Hang on,” he yelled back, and then the crowd faded away and Harry was huffing slightly into the cell, a laugh caught in the back of his throat. “Sorry. It’s a little wild here.”
“Yeah, I could tell.” She pressed the receiver hard against her ear, as if it would make him closer. It was good to hear his voice, and it was so silent in the flat these days. “How are you? How’s your holiday?”
“Good, good. Yours? I miss you, you know.”
Hermione could hear the smile in his voice and her eyes started to prick. She blinked quickly and cleared her throat. “I miss you too,” she said thickly. “Not much going on at the flat, though Millie should be back sometime tomorrow.” She gripped the phone tightly. “When are you coming home?”
“Soon,” he said cheerfully, and Hermione knew the break had done wonders for him. He seemed so happy. “Is Blaise back yet? Can I talk to him?”
“Um…” She trailed off, then went on carefully, “I haven’t heard from him, Harry.”
There was a silent pause, then a harsh exhalation. “You haven’t… Why?”
“I,” she tapped her fingers on the countertop, unsure of what to say, if she should even bring up their argument.
“Hermione, what happened?” he asked worriedly.
“A fight,” she blurted out. “We had a fight, Harry. Before Christmas. I… I haven’t heard from him since.”
“About what?”
She rubbed the back of her neck and mumbled into the phone.
“What?”
“You,” she sighed. “It was about you.”
“Me? That’s a silly thing to fight about,” he admonished, then went on incredulously, “Really, me?”
“Yes, you. And Oliver.” Blaise had accused her of coddling the boy. He didn’t understand that Harry needed to be petted and loved.
“Oh.”
She waited a beat, but he didn’t say anything more. “Oh? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” Her voice was just a tinge hysterical.
“Well,” he drew out, and she could practically picture him rocking back on his heels, “that’s sweet and all, Hermione, but you and Blaise shouldn’t be fighting about me and Oliver. I mean, it isn’t something that should really break you up, do you think?”
“Break us up?” she asked softly, shaking her head. “Harry, we weren’t going out.”
Harry dismissed her protest offhandedly. “Of course you were.”
“No, we—“
“He cooked you dinner most nights.”
“He cooked us all dinner most nights,” Hermione countered.
“He bought you a bracelet on your birthday. A very pretty bracelet. That sparkled.”
Hermione almost chuckled at his envious tone. “He’s a friend. A close friend.”
“Who sleeps in your bed,” he pointed out blithely.
“Er…”
“And I’ve seen you wearing his t-shirts. Which just about screams ‘girlfriend,’ you know. Face it, you two are dating.”
“I…” Hermione stared at the tile above the kitchen sink, pressing a hand to her flip-flopping stomach. Oh gods. They were dating. “Shit.”
“No need for a potty mouth, missy. Details now, did you break up with him, or did he break up with you?”
“I didn’t know we were going out!” she cried, frustrated. “How could I have broken up with him?”
“Right. So, let’s go with the theory that he’s broken up with you. Although I really can’t see that happening. He’s head-over-heels in love with you.”
“What?” They’d been dating, and now Harry was saying Blaise loved her? It was just too much to take in. “Harry…”
“And you love him.”
“Harry,” she stressed, her tone exasperated. She rolled her eyes and sent a silent ‘well, duh,’ up to the cracked plaster ceiling. And it was surprisingly easy to admit to herself, even though she’d been in denial for weeks.
“And you definitely should not,” he went on, ignoring her, “be fighting about me.”
“You mentioned that already,” she grumbled.
“You should call and apologize.”
Shoving a hand into her hair, she tugged on her curls. “Call where? I don’t know where the hell he is!”
“Of course you do,” Harry protested genially.
“No, I—Oh.” Her eyes rounded with realization.
“See? You know.”
Well, she knew, but that didn’t mean he was actually there. “But do you really think he’d--?”
“Yep.”
“And now I have to--“
“Oh yes.”
“But he hates him!” I hate him, she added in her head. Damn Malfoy.
“Not really.”
Which was true. Everyone hated Malfoy but Blaise, who would bear the blond’s insults with a grin, then ruffle Malfoy’s hair affectionately and murmur “Ruddy bastard” in such a way that alternately made the git blush and scowl and, occasionally, stutter. “Damn.”
“You might want to go see him, actually. Groveling’s better in person, I’ve found.”
****
Does anyone know if the term "dating" is used in brit-speak?
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-18 09:42 am (UTC)