Alright, I seem to have gone into a Boy!Blaise/Hermione fic-writing frenzy. This is the latest of the crop. I think this will be a long one.


The Hogwarts train station was bathed in sunlight, making it seem as bright and cheery as a trains station could. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the birds in the trees were singing, and the air smelled of flowers. The sun glittered in the lake surface, and even the Forbidden Forest seemed inviting. All in all, it was one of the warmest and sunniest days of the summer, thus far.

And Hermione Granger hated it.

The sun wasn't supposed to shine like that. The birds weren't supposed to sing. The sky shouldn't be blue; it should be black and stormy. The lake wasn't supposed to glitter like that. Nothing was supposed to be cheerful. Not on a day like this. Not now. Never again.

It was only the end of June, but she had already returned to Hogwarts; she was staying there for the reminder of the summer holidays. Not long ago, she'd left the very same place to go home to her parents, and she'd deemed it one of the best days of her life; Voldemort had been defeated earlier that term, she'd scored highly on the exams, and Harry had finally been discharged from the hospital wing.

Now she returned; deeming this day one of the blackest in her life. She'd come home, only to find that her parents had been killed by renegade Death Eaters, her house destroyed, her belongings scattered and her life in shambles. Not even Crookshanks, whom she'd left at home while visiting over Christmas, had survived. She couldn't remember anything between finding her home like that, and waking up in St Mungo's.

The Healers of the hospital had tried to get her to talk, but she'd studiously ignored them. She allowed them to heal her properly, taking care of her various cuts and bruises, which she'd apparently gained as she tried to dig through the ruins of her house. Healers and Ministry officials had tried to press her for information, but she'd just stared blankly at them, and shook her head; she hadn't spoken a word since the ´incident´.

When she'd been discharged from the hospital, she'd been informed that she would be staying at Hogwarts for the reminder of the summer, and ha been shipped off to Kings Cross. She'd taken the train, and was now standing at the train station at Hogwarts, waiting for someone to come and pick her up, as Dumbledore had promised in his last letter.

"Ms Granger?"

Hermione turned around to face the speaker, but she already knew who it was; there was only one person in the world that had a voice like that; Severus Snape. After six years worth of Potions classes with him, she'd learned all to well to recognize his voice.

He looked just as he always did; black robes buttoned up to his neck, which must be uncomfortably warm on a day like this, and his black hair still hung into his eyes. He didn't wear his usual sneer, though. He looked at her with a neutral expression on his face.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked.

She nodded and picked up her trunk. He nodded, mostly to himself, and showed the way up to the castle. Hermione, who had only ever gotten there by boat or by carriage, didn't know the way, so she just followed him mutely,


They were nearly at the castle, and still no words had been spoken. She was just about to step through the doors when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye, something in the oak in the middle of the school grounds. She turned to get a better view, and found herself looking at a slim, black-haired boy, who was sitting on one of the higher branches, looking down at the lake.

Snape noticed her turning around, and looked to see what she was looking at. When he spotted the boy for himself, he sighed and shook his head.

"I can't for the life of me understand why he insists on sitting in that damn tree." He muttered, more to himself than to her, "You will be sharing the castle with the professors, Ms Granger, and another student; Blaise Zabini." He indicated the boy.

She looked at him silently, and then nodded, shrugging it off. Sharing the whole castle with only one other student wouldn't make for any complications; it was the professors she was worried about. They were bound to try to talk to her, to comfort her, and she couldn't take that right now; she'd gotten enough of it at the hospital.

Snape was sure not to coddle her though, which she was grateful for, she needed something normal in her world right now. Even if it was her snarky old Potions Master biting her head off verbally, she'd welcome it. At least he'd never pity her.

They entered the castle, and Snape led her to the staffroom. He opened the door, and gestured impatiently for her to enter, when she didn't do so immediately. She stepped inside, and was greeted by a chorus of ´Hello, how are you poor child?´ 's from the professors. She forced a smile, but didn't say anything as Professor McGonagall swooped down on her and hugged her.

She endured all the hugs and all the pitying glances in silence, and sat down next to Dumbledore, staring at the table. She could overhear the professors' whispering to each other, apparently unaware that she could hear them perfectly well.

"Poor child; to lose her parents like that."

"Oh yes, it must be terribly hard on her."

Their concern wasn't unwelcome, but they would never understand; none of them had ever had this happen to them. None of them had come home just to find that their lives had been brutally torn apart. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up into his blue eyes. He gave her a look of understanding, and nodded to the door. She gave him a grateful look and walked out again.

"Where are you going?" McGonagall called after her, but she ignored the calls and kept on walking.

Professor Dumbledore could explain to them, if need be. Besides, they had no business where she was going. She decided she needed to get out of the castle, and walked out on the grounds, down to the lake.


She sat down at the waters' edge, and stared at her reflection. Her normally bushy hair seemed even frizzier now, and it tangled like a crows nest. She had never been very round-faced, but now her cheeks seemed hollow, and her eyes had sunken in, with dark rings around them. Her skin was pale, and her eyes seemed dull, even to herself. Not really anyone's idea of a beautiful face.

She dragged her fingers through the water; it was cold, despite the warmth of the day. She pulled out her hand again, and looked appraisingly at the lake. What if..? No; someone would see her, and they'd come running outside to save her, and then she'd have to explain everything to people who didn't understand. People who would never understand.

The sky was still cloudless, and she stared at until she felt dizzy, from the intense blue colour. She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around her, staring at the lake. Her thoughts drifted like the waves on the water surface.

Everyone seemed so happy, so unlike her. Even Snape seemed happier and more content than he had been. All professors walked around with perpetual smiles on their faces; everyone had someone to talk to. She didn't have anyone; Harry and Ron hadn't returned the letter she sent to them, nor had they written anything to her. She knew it was unreasonable, but she felt betrayed, somehow.

And she didn't want to be reasonable right now. She wanted to scream, cry, claw out her own eyes, curl up in a ball and just die. She wanted her parents back. She wanted her life back.

She sat for many hours by the lake, just thinking. She didn't even notice that dinner was approaching until she saw Hagrid walk across the lawn towards the castle. She got up and dusted herself off. She might as well go back to the castle; they would come and look for her otherwise.

As she walked, she looked over at the Astronomy Tower. It was the highest tower in the whole castle, with a hundred and forty-two steps to the top; she'd counted. She'd heard about people killing themselves by jumping off it; before she had never had any interest in it, but now she found herself wanting to know if it could be done.

She didn't notice the pair of blue eyes that watched her thoughtfully as she trekked across the grounds to the castle. Their owner watched her silently, and then nodded, as if deciding something


Hermione sat quietly between Dumbledore and Snape, pushing the food around on her plate, taking a bite of it occasionally. The other professors would have attempted conversation with her, had it not been for the fact that she had Blaise sitting directly across from her too. With the Headmaster on one side, and two Slytherins occupying the other two sides, she was safe from any kind of nosy questions.

She was aware of Blaise's eyes on her from time to time. She'd glanced at him as well, but despite his frequent looks, he hadn't attempted to ask her anything, not even whether or not she was capable of handing him the pumpkin juice. He just ate in silence and observed the people around him.

Hermione found herself wondering about him, despite her current disinterest in just about everything. She'd never noticed him, even though he was in her year, and after six years at Hogwarts, she still had troubles remembering what he looked like when he wasn't there.

Now, she had an opportunity to acquaint herself with his features. He had blue eyes, almost the same colour as the Ravenclaw shield, making them slightly darker than the sky. His black hair fell around his face, slightly curled, but not overly so. The shade of his skin spoke of origins that were less than wholly English, which contrasted sharply to the colour of his eyes. His looks weren't striking or overwhelming, but neither was he ugly. Overall, he had a kind of quiet; she couldn't call it beauty, but handsomeness, if that was even a word.

He was a Slytherin, but he didn't act like one; had he been anything like Draco Malfoy, he would already have thrown a few hurtful remarks her way, just for the pleasure of seeing her break down or cry. To be honest, Blaise had never given the slightest indication that he even cared to insult anyone like that, much less her. It was as if he didn't care the slightest about anyone outside himself, and therefore didn't see the use of insulting anyone, yet he seemed to smile when he heard anyone else insulting each other, as if he found the insults funny. Maybe he did.

Suddenly, he looked up at her, and caught her staring. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, but otherwise didn't do anything. She looked back for a moment before looking down at her plate. He shifted in his seat, and stretched his legs, before settling down again. In doing so, he had almost kicked her in the shins; he was extraordinarily tall, standing somewhere near seven feet, but not quite managing to make it that far. The only person presently at Hogwarts who was taller than him was Hagrid, and since he was a half-giant, that didn't count for much. Not even Snape could best Blaise Zabini in height.

It was odd to see him without the Hogwarts school uniform on; he was wearing a grey shirt and what looked to be the wizard-version of jeans. But she shook off her contemplations of Blaise Zabini when the Headmaster asked her something.

"Would you like to be shown to your rooms after dinner? We've decided that opening up the dormitories are a waste of time with only two students here. Mr Zabini can show you." Dumbledore said.

She glanced at Blaise across the table, but he still looked indifferent, and then she nodded slightly. Dumbledore looked as if this was possibly the best thing that had ever happened in his whole life, and went back to his food, talking with McGonagall who sat on his other side.

Hermione pushed the food on her plate around a little more, just for show, before standing up silently. She had expected that she would have some free time before Blaise had to show her to her room, but he stood up just seconds after her, and walked silently out of the Great Hall by her side.


Blaise seemed to understand that she didn't want to talk, and didn't say anything either, except for a quiet direction or two. She had never really heard him speak before, but now that he did, she found herself liking his voice. It was soft and somehow soothing to listen to, and if she listened closely, she could detect a trace of a foreign accent in it, but she couldn't say more about it than that it wasn't Bulgarian. She'd learned to recognize that one all too well.

After climbing a few staircases, they reached a portrait of a dark haired witch that looked like she was related to Snape, labelled ´Mariana de Lys´. She was currently asleep, but woke up when Blaise cleared his throat. She fixed him with her dark brow eyes, looking every inch as stern as McGonagall. She said something in what sounded like French, and Blaise replied easily.

When he was done talking to the portrait, he turned to Hermione and seemed to wait for something. She raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for him to say something, anything that could give her a clue as to what they were waiting for.

"Pardon me; do you not speak French?" He asked after a while.

She shook her head violently, and he sighed, smacking a hand to his forehead.

"I am sorry; I did not realize. She asked for a password. Do you have one? Or should I make one up?" He apologized.

Hermione shrugged helplessly; it was hard to come up with a password when you didn't speak. Blaise seemed to understand, and nodded again, turning back to the portrait. He spoke quickly in French, and the portrait nodded briskly, and swung open. Blaise nodded at her, giving a peculiar not-quite- smile.

"I made your password Diablo. Is that alright?" He asked.

She nodded and stepped inside her room, leaving him outside. The portrait swung shut again, and she could hear him talking to the portrait again. He was nice, in a way; he might have forgotten that not everyone spoke French, but he had been considerate enough to ask her before he changed the password.

She shook off any thoughts of Blaise's niceness and surveyed her rooms. They were, frankly, disgusting. Whoever had gotten the notion that girls liked pink had either gotten an anvil dropped on their heads, or had jumped from the Astronomy Tower and survived. The horrible colour was everywhere. But not for long, if she had anything to say about it.

She pulled out her wand and whispered a few incantations, and the room turned blue. She could speak when she wanted to, but chose not to because people had an annoying habit of trying to console her, whatever she said. Hopefully, they would learn soon and keep their mouths shut.

She sat down on her bed, looked around her newly decorated room, and realized that this would be her last year at Hogwarts; she wouldn't be coming back. This was final. Without return. Nothing left to lose, really.

Hermione buried her face in her hands, and choked on tears that would not fall.


Several hours later, she sat up again, head in her hands, hair falling like a curtain in front of her face. She still hadn't cried; no matter how much she wanted to, and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't. She kept choking them back, thinking about how her father always told her to keep her chin up and that big girls don't cry. And then she would be right back at biting back tears.

She missed them more than she ever thought possible. They had always been there for her, even when she thought they were being tiresome and annoying, they never gave up. Her biggest regret was that she never told them that she loved them before she went to Hogwarts in sixth year, where she had been forced to stay over the holidays, and not sent any owls to them either, on the grounds that it could be intercepted by Voldemort's followers.

And now they were gone.

The funeral was in a few weeks, but she wasn't sure she was going to make it that far; she wasn't sure she was going to make it till dawn. Losing both her parents in one blow was too much to take, even for her, and despite her being a strong girl, as shown by her various adventures with Ron and Harry, she just couldn't take it. To even imagine a life without her parents was enough to make her want to hurt someone. Knowing that it was the cold hard truth made her want to hurt herself, for being so stupid and so damn oblivious.

Why hadn't she written home earlier? Why hadn't she told them she loved them? Why hadn't she gone straight home from King's Cross instead of stopping at one of her friend's house? If she had been just a few minutes earlier, she might have saved them. And even if she hadn't been able to do that, she would at least have done something more than just stand there with her mouth hanging open.

Resolutely, she grabbed her wand and walked out the door before she had a chance to change her mind. The corridors were pitch black, but a whispered incantation later, the tip of her wand was glowing softly, and she had no trouble finding her way to the Astronomy Tower.

This was it; she regretted not having time to leave a note. Not that they would miss her anyway; they didn't really care. All they cared about was that her mind was being ruined; they cared nothing for her feelings. Or at least, Ron and Harry didn't, and right now they were the only ones who counted in her world. Anyone else was just in the way.

She regretted not getting to know Blaise Zabini better; he seemed like a nice person, but as stated, there was not turning back now; there was nothing to turn back to. And a decision, once made, was not reversible, at least not in Hermione Granger's mind.

The portrait shut behind her with the barest of whispers, and she set off down the corridor, not noticing that the formidable lady in the painting woke up and watched her with concern etched on her face. Slowly, the painting walked out of the frame, setting off down the hall in the opposite direction to the one Hermione was taking. Whoever said portraits were good for nothing had never met Mariana de Lys, and she was going to take the situation into her own hands, since she knew exactly who to talk to.


Ending notes; alright, not as dark as I would have wanted, but not exactly cheerful either. I'm not used to writing Suicidal!Hermione, but I guess I'll get sued to it. Tune in next time for the second instalment of Impossible Princess.