At Last

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A/N: Ashley asked me to write her Blaise/Hermione. I love this pairing so I agreed. It’s fluffy and romantic and you may go into sugar shock, so be warned! *grin*
Dedicated to ashleyfanfic for being so wonderful and listening to me ramble about my SiriLu and LuCissa obsessions and making such beautiful graphics. I hope you feel better, darlin'!

Originally Posted: July 7, 2004

At last, my love has come along, my lonely nights are over, and life is like a song.
At last, the skies above are blue, my heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you.
I found a dream that I could speak to, a dream that I can call my own.
I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I have never known.
You smile, you smile, and then the spell was cast.
And here we are in heaven, for you are mine at last.


At Last by someone Ashley didn't know



“It doesn’t look like anyone is here,” Hermione said, looking at the beautiful but dark house she and her lover had just apparated to. The brunette witch frowned as she looked at Blaise, “Are you certain this is the correct house? I don’t think anyone is home, Blaise.”


Blaise Zabini struggled to keep the smile off his face, scared that his plans would be ruined if she noticed the scheming gleam in his indigo eyes. He had everything arranged, had been sneaking around for weeks to get everything perfect for tonight, and he wasn’t about to mess it all up because he was so excited that she grew suspicious. His girlfriend was the smartest witch of their generation and, had she been born a Pureblood, there was no doubt in his mind that she’d have been in Slytherin along with him and his friends because she was ambitious and cunning and sneakier than most Slytherins he knew. He never kept secrets from Hermione, their relationship based on trust and mutual respect as well as physical attraction.


He had first noticed Hermione during Sixth year, when they’d been paired as Potions partners. Before that, he had honestly never given the brainy Gryffindor much thought. That year, though, he had worked with her and begun to appreciate her brilliant mind. They’d continued their partnership during Seventh year, and Blaise had begun working with Dumbledore’s Army, joining Dumbledore with a majority of his housemates which meant he spent even more time with the pretty brunette witch. They’d become good friends and then he’d finally accepted that he wanted more than just friendship, asking her out for dinner shortly after Voldemort’s defeat. She’d said yes, Blaise still able to remember the dazzling smile that had crossed her full lips when he’d stammered out his invitation. After two months of casual dating, which actually translated to spending almost every evening together and sharing passionate kisses, he had confessed his love and they’d become a serious item, making love soon after.


He loved Hermione, loved being with her, loved holding her and touching her, loved everything about her, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. For two years, he had loved her and shared his life with her, but he was ready for more. He had planned things perfectly, wanting this to be memorable and special for her, knowing that she was a closet romantic who read Muggle romance novels and watched sappy Muggle movies. Merlin, he hoped she was surprised. He ran a hand through his curly thick black hair, letting it fall back against his neck, his violet eyes nervous but hopeful. He shrugged, the action graceful, his slender body tense as he drew his bottom lip into his mouth. When he looked at her, he was calm and charming, not showing any signs of his anxiety, giving her a brilliant smile as he assured her, “This is the right address, Hermione. I checked it before we apparated.”


“Maybe Greg just has the lights off,” Hermione suggested, smiling at Blaise as she walked towards the door. She remarked, “Are you sure he remembered? Today at work, he mentioned meeting Vince and Pansy for drinks tonight. Besides, why couldn‘t you just talk to him before we left? You do share a flat, after all. What is this place, anyway? It‘s a beautiful house, like something out of a Jane Austen novel. She was a Muggle author.”


“Nosy, aren’t you?” Blaise smiled affectionately, “I know Jane Austen, Hermione. You’ve only watched those movies a dozen times. I do pay attention, darling. It *is* a lovely house, isn’t it?”


“I am not nosy,” Hermione informed him haughtily, her brown eyes flashing with amusement as a breeze blew her long toffee colored hair into her face, “I’m merely curious.”


“And I love that about you,” Blaise smiled as he brushed his lips against her forehead before knocking on the door. After waiting for a moment, he said, “Perhaps Greg is in the back. He does have a fondness for gardens.”


“Greg?” Hermione snorted, “Blaise, honey, I’ve only been friends with Greg for three years, but even I know that he hates plants and flowers make him sneeze. I can’t even have a plant on my desk because I share an office with him.”


“Let’s just go check,” Blaise resisted the urge to groan at her knowledge and curiosity. If she kept asking questions, he might have to kiss her to get her to stop. Oh, wait, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea after all.


“Yes, let’s,” Hermione agreed, “and if he’s not there, we can go on to dinner. I met Harry and Ron for lunch today and spent most of the hour talking and not enough time eating so I’m starving.”


Blaise took her hand and walked around the large house, noticing her appraisal of the old house and seeing the impressed gleam in her brown eyes. As they reached the back, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was exactly how he had planned. It looked beautiful in the moonlight, a few candles floating in the area around the setting. He heard her gasp of surprise and turned to look at her.


“Blaise, what is all this?” Hermione asked softly, her eyes looking into his, her breath catching as she saw the intensity burning in their indigo depths.


“Hermione, I love you,” Blaise whispered, finally allowing her to see his nervousness as he walked her down the stairs towards the gazebo he had arranged to be built.


“Blaise, I love you, too,” Hermione replied, unable to conceal her surprise and curiosity. Merlin, she loved this man. What was he doing? What did the sneaky Slytherin have planned? As they approached the gazebo, her eyes widened as she heard music begin to play, instrumental, a favorite song of hers. Astonished, Hermione followed him into the gazebo, tears in her eyes as she realized what he had done. The amount of planning and effort he had taken, to give her this. She sat on the rail, her eyes on his handsome face, a loving smile on her lips as she resisted the urge to run into his arms and kiss him.


Blaise was intelligent and charming and gorgeous and her best friend as well as her lover, but he was not exactly all that romantic. He loved her, was devoted to her, the sex was unbelievable, and he was getting better at communicating and being affectionate, but he normally wasn’t overly romantic unless it was a special occasion. Then, he’d knock her socks off, doing something elaborate and well though out and she’d love him even more. This seemed to be one of those times, this beyond any of her wildest dreams, and she had to wonder what the special occasion was. She watched him take her hand, noticing how small it looked when held by his larger hand. He had inherited his Father’s coloring, Andres Zabini an Italian for as many generations as they could count. With his gorgeous skin tone and his coal black hair that fell to his neck in thick curls that always looked tousled in a sexy way, and his beautiful eyes that were a deep indigo and his fantastic body that was tall and slender and moved with an effortless grace, Blaise Zabini was one of the most beautiful and elegant men she’d ever met. And he was her’s, she thought possessively.


Blaise entwined his fingers with her, looking directly into her eyes as he said, “At last, my love has come along. My lonely nights are over, and life is like a song.”


“Oh, Blaise,” Hermione whispered, hearing the lyrics to a favorite song, realizing he had set up her favorite scene from her favorite movie and was now quoting the lyrics to one of her favorite songs. The gazebo scene was so romantic and this song was so lovely, both never failing to cause her to sigh happily and now, now this wonderful, handsome man who knew her even better than she had realized had just brought it to life for her.


“At last, the skies above are blue, my heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you,” Blaise quoted the lyrics sincerely, the charmed music continuing to play around them. For a moment, he wished he was a better singer, but he was bloody awful so he’d chosen to quote his favorite part of the song, the part that reminded him of Hermione and how he felt about her. He moved his left hand against her cheek, the back of his fingers brushing away a tear, “I found a dream that I could speak to, a dream that I can call my own.”


“I love you,” Hermione told him as she squeezed his hand, her eyes fluttering as he leaned down and brushed his cheek against hers, whispering in her ear.


“I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I have never known,” Blaise confessed to her, wishing he was as eloquent as the lyrics. He was a charming rascal, as his Mum often liked to say, but around Hermione, he always felt that what he said, what he did, couldn’t convey to her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her. Perhaps this gesture would let her know that she meant the world to him, that he would do anything to make her happy, even set up a scene from some Muggle movie about a singing governess and memorized the lyrics to some Muggle song from decades before either he or Hermione was even born. He brushed his lips against her ear before raising his head and again looking into her eyes, his finger tracing the curve of her smile as he said, “You smile,“ he paused, his voice thick with emotion and love as he whispered, “you smile and then the spell was cast. And here we are in heaven, for you are mine at last.“


“I love you so much,” Hermione told him again, knowing that she would never be able to say the words enough. She watched as his left hand moved into the pocket of his robe, his eyes never leaving hers as he knelled down in front of her.


“I love you, Hermione, more than anything in this world,” Blaise told her softly, “Will you marry me?”


“Oh my,” Hermione looked at the ring he showed her and then back at him, tears freely falling as she smiled, “Yes, Blaise. Yes, yes, yes!”


Blaise relaxed as soon as he heard her words, a large smile crossing his face as he stood up and pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers. They finally broke the kiss when the need to breathe forced them to. He couldn’t stop touching her face, smiling, happier than he could ever remember being. He removed the ring that had been his Grandmother’s and slid it onto her finger, having known it would be a perfect fit. He looked into her eyes as he said, “I would have sung the song, but you know how bloody awful I am at singing.”


“I loved it,” Hermione sniffled, unable to stop smiling, “this, all of this, Blaise, it’s so perfect. I love that song, and that scene from the movie and, Merlin, I love you, you sneaky Slytherin bastard! Wait, was Greg part of this?”


“Yes,” Blaise smiled, “He and Vince helped me get things planned. Pansy arranged for the food and Potter and Weasley helped me find the house. I knew as soon as I saw it that you’d love it. I just had them confirm my belief before I arranged to buy it.”


“The house? You bought the house?” Hermione gaped at him, forgetting that she was planning to have a little talk with their friends about keeping secrets, even wonderful secrets like this.


“Do you like it? If you don’t, I can cancel the sale,” Blaise assured her, worried again.


“I love it!” Hermione smiled, “I’m just, Merlin, I’m surprised. This is wonderful, Blaise. I know you went to a lot of trouble and that means so much to me.”


“You’re worth the trouble, Hermione,” he said softly, kissing her again before he said, “You mentioned something about being hungry? Pansy arranged for a lot of food so there is plenty to choose from. She wanted everything to be perfect for us. They all did. I think they were nearly as excited as I was, though not as nervous.”


“Nervous? As if I’d say no, Blaise Zabini! I love you, you silly adorable romantic man,” Hermione said as she moved into his arms, looking into his eyes as she whispered, “You are mine at last,“ before kissing him tenderly.

*the end*