Prompt: #13- The war is over, and has been a while. Anything the Golden Trio has ever touched is fetching a fortune in the collectibles market. Somehow one of the DA coins got into the hands of a man who is very interested in Hermione, and he realizes that she has never let hers go, a fact he uses to his advantage.

Summary: Blaise Zabini has loved Hermione for half of his life, but due to the war he has never felt comfortable revealing his feelings for her. After he acquires a genuine DA coin, he gets the opportunity of a lifetime, and he grasps it with both hands.

Pairing: Blaise Zabini/Hermione Granger

Warnings: Sneaky Slytherins and Bossy!Hermione

Word count: ~2000

Author Note: All thanks and much love to the amazing and fabulous Auntie_L. The awesome bits are probably due to her, any mistakes/errors are all me. This was my submission for this year's (2015) Hermione Smut on livejournal. The deadline was October 31st, and they start posting in November, but the big announcement of who did which story wasn't posted until I was in Germany with almost no internet access at all. So this story was written a while ago, but I'm only posting it now.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights/privileges/etc. belong to JK Rowling et al. I claim this piece as fair use under the Copyright Act.

/\/\/\/\/\

From the first time she had seen it, as a scared teenager, Pansy had loved the Zabini villa on the Tuscan coast of Italy. It had large, airy rooms filled with ancient vases, antique furniture, and priceless works of art. Blaise liked to joke that his family had collected beautiful things for a very long time. Pansy couldn't really argue with him there. The villa always seemed warmer and more comforting than the Parkinson Manse. Her own home had always felt dark and oppressive. Then again, her father had probably been a large part of that. She shook off those painful memories and focused on the wizard that had just entered the room.

"Pansy, you look as ravishing as always," Blaise complimented her as he moved towards her. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "To what do I owe the splendor of your company?"

"I got it," she said quietly.

Blaise became completely still, and his eyes focused on her face. "No one knows that I was the bidder," he murmured.

Pansy rolled her eyes at him. "Of course not, Blaise. I'm not an idiot."

"Of course not," Blaise agreed immediately. He stared at her for another long moment. "Well?"

Pansy smirked at him. Then she slipped a small velvet box out of her pocket and placed it on the coffee table in front of her. Blaise's fingers hovered above it before he took the box and opened it. She could barely make out his soft sigh, but she could easily see the way his hand was shaking as he carefully stroked the contents of the box with one finger.

Why a client engaged her services was none of Pansy's business. Honestly, Pansy could care less. All that really mattered was that she was paid her fees, and Blaise always paid the fees and a little extra. She wasn't sure if that was just how he did business, or if it was because he was her friend. Pansy didn't feel like examining that too closely so she turned her attention back to Blaise.

"It's real?" He asked.

"Yes," Pansy replied. "They had a signed affidavit from the seller, and they had a couple DA members there who tested it to make sure that it was real."

Blaise turned sharply to look at her. "Not-," he began, but Pansy shook her head.

"No, she wasn't there." Pansy clasped her hands in her lap and watched Blaise for a moment. "You know… I could always-,"

"No," Blaise interrupted her forcefully. He shook his head. "No," he repeated in a softer voice.

"What's the point then?" Pansy demanded. "You've mooned over her for years, Blaise. Why go to all this trouble if you're never going to do anything about it?"

"You wouldn't understand," Blaise muttered.

"Explain it to me," Pansy insisted. "Help me to understand."

"I-," Blaise flushed and shook his head. "She would never look at me. Not that way."

Pansy snorted in disbelief. Blaise had always been one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. He had been the reluctant subject of gossip and teenage fantasy with his high cheekbones and his startlingly blue eyes and the lovely dark caramel colour of his skin. The idea that anyone wouldn't be attracted to him was laughable. Then again, Gryffindors had a tendency to do things that boggled the mind.

"Then she's the thickest witch of her age," Pansy snapped.

Blaise gave her a half-hearted glare.

The Slytherins had all known the truth—Blaise might sleep with someone, but they would never touch his heart. He'd given that away years ago to the most inappropriate person possible. A half-blood, a Muggleborn, or even a Muggle mistress tucked away in some tidy little flat would have been acceptable; some mysterious woman that Blaise might visit out of the sight of polite society… why even a wife couldn't object to that. But this… the so-called brightest witch of her age, best friend of the Saviour of the wizarding world, the self-appointed champion of house-elves and werewolves… it was de trop.

"Drop it, Pansy," he muttered.

"Consider it dropped," Pansy retorted. She picked up her things and left.

/\/\/\/\/\

Nestled in the silk interior of the velvet box was a genuine galleon from Dumbledore's Army, or rather, not a genuine galleon because Dumbledore's Army hadn't used genuine galleons. Still, it was a genuine Dumbledore's Army Galleon, and that was what counted.

The end of the wizarding war had raised a keen interest in anything to do with Dumbledore's Army or the Golden Trio. A large market had developed around buying and selling items that had belonged to Dumbledore's Army, and if an item could be proved to have belonged to one of the Golden Trio, then its value increased by at least ten times.

Years of paranoia and distrust had fueled Blaise's desire for anonymity, and when it came to these sorts of auctions, it had served him well. No one outside a small circle of friends knew about his little obsession, and he always used a third party to make any purchases. If any of the auction houses had realized that Blaise Zabini was bidding, they would have figured out a way to drive the price even higher, knowing that he would be able to pay.

She had touched this coin once when she had made them for the DA. His finger hovered above the coin before carefully stroking the edge of the coin; it was a clever reproduction that appeared genuine at first glance. It was only after a closer examination that one realized that this was not an actual galleon.

The coin grew warm under his finger, and Blaise pulled it back in surprise.

'Leaky' appeared across the face, and Blaise noted that the striking date numbers had rearranged themselves to the current date and a time for later in the evening. Blaise could feel his eyebrows creep up his forehead.

Someone was arranging to meet at the Leaky Cauldron later that night.

Should he go? He could sit at one of the booths with a Notice-Me-Not charm, and wait to see who was meeting. Curiosity swirled through him and he stared at the coin thoughtfully for several minutes. Finally, he nodded to himself. He would go.

/\/\/\/\/\

Finding a secluded booth at the Leaky was simple enough, and his subtle Notice-Me-Not charm was even simpler. Blaise leaned back against the booth's seat and eyed the current population of the Leaky Cauldron with a speculative eye. He didn't really see anyone that he recognized from Dumbledore's Army, but it was early yet. He sipped slowly at his grappa and watched the doors.

Fifteen minutes before the time that was listed on the coin, Harry Potter burst through the doors. He nodded to Hannah at the bar and then chose the booth right behind Blaise. A tendril of excitement curled through his belly. It had worked! The galleons still worked, and someone was still using them. If Blaise had harbored any doubts—Harry Potter showing up in the Leaky Cauldron at the appointed time alleviated all of them.

Cautiously, Blaise took another small sip of his grappa, and thanked all the little gods for pushing Potter to choose that booth. Ten minutes later, when she walked through the door, Blaise gripped his grappa tightly and focused on reinforcing his Notice-Me-Not charms.

"Hermione, thanks for coming," Potter muttered. He rose and kissed her on the cheek before directing her to sit across from him.

Hermione's bushy hair brushed the back of Blaise's neck and the heady scent of jasmine teased his senses. He froze in place, unwilling to move and break this fleeting contact.

"Have I ever missed one of our dinners?" Hermione asked with a light laugh.

"No," Potter admitted.

Hannah bustled over and took their orders. Blaise listened eagerly, taking careful note of Hermione's order.

"How is the Auror Department?" Hermione asked once they were alone.

"About usual," Potter muttered.

"And Mr Malfoy?" Hermione teased.

"Malfoy is fine," Potter growled at her.

"You haven't tried to kill him yet this week?" Hermione asked.

Sitting with his back to the booth put Blaise at a slight disadvantage. He had a feeling that Hermione was teasing Potter, but without seeing her face, he wasn't sure. He could hear Potter grind his teeth and suppressed a shudder at the sound.

"Has the ferret said that I have?" Potter growled.

Hermione laughed. She was definitely teasing him.

"No, he hasn't, or at least he hasn't filed any complaints this week. Perhaps he finally understands that you aren't trying to kill him," Hermione murmured.

"Too much planning," Potter grumbled. "And after… the paperwork you would make me complete would be a nightmare."

"True," Hermione agreed.

Silently, Blaise listened to the two friends speak to one another with a warm familiarity.

"What's bothering you?" Potter asked quietly.

Perhaps not facing Hermione was fine. He couldn't see her expression, but he could feel her grow tense and try to shrug.

"Nothing," she muttered.

Potter snorted. "Pull the other one," he said in a flat voice.

Blaise could hear the both of them shift and he suspected that Potter was leaning forward and taking Hermione's hand in his. It was the sort of thing that Blaise would do for the few women that he counted as close friends. All right, fine; it was the sort of thing he might do with Pansy and maybe Draco just to piss him off.

The sudden coolness on the back of his neck left him feeling strangely bereft, and he realized that Hermione was leaning forward as well. He concentrated on being very still, and not attracting attention.

"It's stupid," Hermione huffed quietly.

"It's you," Potter retorted. "I highly doubt that it, whatever it is, comes remotely close to stupid."

"I… I thought I was fine," Hermione said in a soft, sad, almost-broken sounding voice that made Blaise long to make someone, somewhere, suffer for causing. There was a soft hitching noise that made Blaise clench his hands into fists and then she continued to speak. "I mean… we're over. Thank Merlin we're over because I probably would have killed him. I don't want him. I mean… God, this is harder to explain than I thought."

"Take all the time you need," Potter encouraged her softly. "I'm not going anywhere, love."

"It's just… why not me? Why aren't I the one that… why not me?" Hermione rambled helplessly.

"But… you don't want him," Potter protested.

"No. Not him. The… the… the rest of it." Hermione made a frustrated noise.

"I'm not following," Potter muttered.

"I'm going to be 30 this year," Hermione offered. "I just thought that… by now… it would have been me. That somebody would have wanted that... with me."

"Oh, love," Potter murmured. "There are blokes out there that would kill for the chance to be with you."

Blaise suppressed a sigh. Potter was right, damn him. Maybe not kill, exactly, but definitely willing to do things that most people might consider morally ambiguous.

"Well, where are they?" Hermione huffed indignantly.

Potter laughed, but he cut off abruptly and gave a muffled oath. Blaise could only assume that Hermione had kicked him under the table.

"Look, Hermione. You hide yourself away in those horrible little offices of yours," Potter explained. "No, don't give me that look. We both know it's true. And when you aren't hiding in your offices, you are hiding behind your title. You push people away."

"It seemed safer," Hermione muttered.

"It is safer, but it makes it harder for people to date you," Potter countered. "What about this… why don't you let us set you up on a few dates?"

"You?" Hermione demanded incredulously.

Potter snorted again. "I know some guys," he defended himself. "Nice people that might want to take you out. And Neville was saying that there's someone in his Herbology Mastery course that has mentioned you a few times."

"Oh." Hermione was quiet for several long moments. "That might… yeah. That might be okay."

That was most definitely not okay. Blaise had been willing to deal with Hermione's puerile fascination with Weasley because it had been a difficult time for everyone. He had suffered through watching their on-again-off-again romance interspersed with wizards who had little to distinguish themselves from one another, secure in the knowledge that none of them had been good enough for her. But this… this was different. Blaise sipped at his grappa and scowled at the booth seat in front of him.