Perfect Marks
By Rurouni Star
A/N: I wasn't expecting to be quite so busy over the summer, but I picked up a job at a local coffee shop, and the sudden lack of workers at strange times has had me doing lots of shifts. I'm not complaining – it's a wonderful place, with amazing coffee – but it's left me bone tired and barely able to write. I'm back on regular schedule now, though, so – please, enjoy. And don't get too many wrong ideas... yet...
Ten.
Parvati had been so exceedingly unhelpful.
"We're so proud of you, Hermione!" (She was still worrying over who the other one in 'we' was). "All you really need to do is kiss him, of course, but that's supposed to be their prerogative after all, and you shouldn't settle for less. So just follow a bit of advice, and make sure you get to be on top at least once – most guys like that."
Hermione was beginning to regret her tendency to perfectly remember everything she read, for the first time in her life. Some of the instructions had been so... er... graphic. There had even been page number references to the Witch Weekly ("Ten Ways to Please Your Wizard! Guys Tell All!").
Thank god she'd gotten rid of it. Really, she was just hoping she'd never see Parvati again, and that she might be able to keep looking Zabini in the face. Whatever she'd been thinking (and it had not been what Parvati had thought she was thinking!) she was now just relieved she hadn't done anything stupid during her temporary fit of madness. Clearly, someone like- like him- was not going to be interested in someone like her. No, that wasn't the point! The point was... was that she wasn't interested either. It had been something about the adrenaline, probably, and nearly getting killed a few times, and maybe just a bit to do with the fact that he was probably very well toned beneath his robes.
That's not all, she thought, somewhat miserably. Because he was also very intense when he focused on something, in a way she hadn't ever seen before. And being the object of that focus... was... admittedly a very appealing thought.
And he liked cats. How could she resist?
"I'm not interested," Hermione muttered to herself, trying to keep it quiet, as she knew he was still in the kitchen.
"He's not interested either," she said quietly. "So it's really a moot point."
0-0-0-0-0
He had finished the first four books. He understood them all, quite perfectly, and was confident that he could survive a test, should someone be in a teacher-like mood.
This called for some celebration.
Hermione jumped with a gasp, as he leaned his weight onto the back of her chair – he made sure that his fingers were brushing her shoulders very slightly, where her tank top failed to cover them. "Hermione," he said pleasantly, keeping his voice low and smooth. "Do you have anything stronger to drink? I thought I would ask, if it's not too much of a bother."
Her skin was soft, where the pads of his fingers touched. It was intriguing. It made him want to press them into her shoulders more, but he restrained himself politely.
"I-" Her voice was high, for a moment, but he wasn't sure whether it was merely from surprise. "I try not to drink... ah..."
Blaise shook his head. "Pity. Perhaps I can have someone bring some by." He smiled behind her, and dropped his mouth just a little bit closer to her ear. "Did you want anything yourself?"
He saw her shiver. Yes, he definitely saw her shiver. And it wasn't all that cold in this house.
"N-no, I think I'll be fine," Hermione replied. He saw her grab one arm nervously, but she'd unconsciously tilted her neck slightly to the side, to give him better access. Should he want to do something. And he couldn't really deny that he did.
Still, delay brought some amount of satisfaction, didn't it?
Blaise pulled back, and he saw her nearly press a hand to her neck. "I'll be in the living room, then," he said, as though nothing had happened.
End of the night, he thought, with a strange anticipation. I think I may propose a different sleeping arrangement.
In the mean time, he pulled his wand, and flicked through a simple charm. "Binky," he said to the air. "I need something alcoholic. You know where I am..."
0-0-0-0-0
And thus, events began to head toward a very inevitable path, which seemed to be a direct road toward a rather interesting resolution of the subplot. That is, until situational irony hit, and someone, somewhere, said:
"You sent who?"
0-0-0-0-0
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
Hermione tried not to twitch. Her nerves had suddenly set themselves on fire. Her shoulders still burned where he'd touched her so unconsciously, and Parvati be hanged, she'd felt the incredibly momentary urge to turn around and kiss him when he'd started saying things in her ear.
"Did you want anything yourself?"
Yes. Lots of things. Embarrassingly, many things that had to do with that note she'd been sent.
Hermione moaned, very quietly, and threw her face in her hands. This was turning out to be one of the most singularly humiliating experiences of her life, and it was certainly not helping that she'd never had experience in the area before. What am I supposed to do if I am interested? It was nearly a mental wail, and it made her feel exceedingly stupid. There was nowhere to research this – well nowhere good, anyway, because she'd read those silly self-help dating books, and they were utterly useless – not that she'd ever want to date, remember, but it had seemed good to prepare, just in case-
Oh look at me, she thought. I'm a nervous wreck because someone... someone touched me...
Did it have to sound so, er, improper, in her head?
She needed to calm down, more than ever. It wouldn't do to have him come in and see her like this, certainly. There'd be questions asked, then, along the lines of 'why do you look like your puppy died' – or cat, in this instance – and there'd really be no good answer to those questions.
What she really needed was a good long walk outside, but this was a very stupid idea. For all she knew, an escaped zoo animal would attack her, or a power line would break and electrocute her, or a piano would fall out of a window and smash her. Couldn't they have picked a less ridiculous curse, whoever they were?
The phone was ringing.
Hermione blinked.
"What on earth is that noise?" Blaise's voice demanded. He sounded somewhere between surprised and pained, and she supposed it would be a rather annoying sound if you hadn't heard it before...
But it was ringing! It barely did that anymore, and not only because very few of her friends knew how to use a phone. Her wards had a way of shorting out the phone most of the time. She'd once researched the idea, thinking she might find a way to negate the interference pattern, but any spell she might use to that effect would naturally have a pattern of its own-
Blaise pushed into the kitchen, coming to stare at the telephone. "How do you turn this off?" he asked.
Right. She ought to answer.
"Never mind," she told him, picking it up off the cradle and shooing him away absentmindedly. "Hello?" she said into the receiver.
"Hermione! Dear!" There was a pause on the line. "Your phone is working again."
She sighed. "Yes, mother. Half the scholars would tell you it has something to do with the lunar patterns."
Blaise leaned forward with interest, as though examining the phone. She felt his heat soak into her left side – he was a few inches away, still, but he seemed to radiate it in an almost unhealthy way. Bad Hermione. Don't lean into him like that. She stopped herself before they could touch, and gave him a silent, raised eyebrow that was supposed to say 'you're in my personal space, Mr. Zabini'.
He blinked, apparently unable to read eyebrows – then turned his attention back to the phone, and tapped at the backside of the its receiver curiously.
"Hermione? Is your phone going out again? Can you hear me?"
She turned her attention back to the phone quickly, remembering that she was in a conversation. "Oh! Yes, I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said, your father and I have missed you, and is there any way you might be able to come to dinner some night this week?"
Hermione bit at her lip. "I... um... well, about that..." Had his arm just brushed her back? Why did he have to lean in like that? Why did he have to smell so damned good?
"Dear, I know you love your research, but don't you think shutting yourself away is a bit much-"
"N-no!" she nearly squeaked, as Blaise reached to take the phone from her, apparently not much understanding that she was in the middle of a conversation. "No, I mean... I'm sorry, it's not that, it's just that now isn't the best time. You see, I'm... ah... well, it's to do with some magic, and I can't really leave the house right now..."
His hand curled around hers – all calluses and heat and had his thumb just rubbed over her palm? She nearly dropped the phone. Apparently he'd been waiting for this, as he caught it smoothly, bringing it up to his ear in a perfect imitation of the way she'd held it herself.
"Hello?" he asked, sounding vaguely puzzled and somewhat amused.
Hermione resisted the urge to press her face into her hands. She couldn't imagine what her mother might be thinking. She knew Harry and Ron's voices, after a fashion, and neither of them had that slight trace of Italian in their English...
"Oh. Yes. I'm Auror Zabini... Blaise Zabini..." His mouth turned up. "I'm currently taking care of Hermione. She had a nasty run-in with a curse, but she should be fine by Friday..." All in all, he looked rather bemused by the voice coming out of the phone. "Yes, I'll certainly tell her. Er... no, I'm not, ah..." She saw his face change to an odd expression, and her stomach plummeted in fear. "No- well- that is-" Her mother's voice rose in sudden volume over the phone, but it was a sound of delight rather than anger. "I see. Yes, I'll tell her, but I'm not so sure that that would be a-" He stopped, blinking, and pulled the phone away from his ear. "Hello?"
Hermione snatched it from him, her face burning. It had returned to a stuttering dial tone. "What on earth were you thinking?" she snapped at him, still trying to ignore the sudden shivers that came whenever he got near her.
"I... well, I wanted to try it out, honestly..." He looked almost sheepish. "But, ah... I don't wish to be rude... is she always like that?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Like what?"
"Like..." He struggled for words, seeming at a loss. "...that. Never mind. Hermione, I believe you're going to dinner at your parents' on Friday night." He looked uncharacteristically nervous, though, and she groaned, rubbing at her forehead.
"What else?" Hermione asked him.
"Ah. Well." Blaise paused. "Nothing. I probably misheard." Before she could insist, though, he pressed on: "I've started laying out the equation for the counter-curse. I thought you might want to look over it for mistakes."
If he'd been hoping to derail her from whatever her mother had said to him – well, he'd succeeded. She felt her eyes widen. "Already?" she said.
Blaise shrugged. "Only part of it is Arithmancy. Besides, you shouldn't get too excited - it's still going to take some time to accommodate for all the variables. I'll probably need your help with that later."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief as he grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her gently out of the kitchen. "Oh thank goodness," she said. "I had thought- well, I'd imagined it would take some time, considering-"
"I'm not that slow," she thought she heard him mutter. He let her wrist go to move toward a few pieces of scrap parchment on the table, and her face flushed in embarrassment.
"I've never seen anyone try to learn an entirely new subject all at once before, is what I meant to say," she tried to correct herself, but she was somehow sure she'd already done the damage. Blast it, she thought. He's so touchy sometimes...
If he was still sore over it, though, he gave no indication as he handed the first diagram to her. She frowned, and looked it over slowly, hoping she wouldn't find any mistakes. She'd once taken more than a little pleasure in showing her abilities by correcting other peoples' homework, but this was a much different situation, and he was a much different person than many of her friends had been. Hermione had more than once gotten the feeling that he took her criticism more personally than normal, though she'd no idea why this might be.
Thankfully, Zabini had really done his research, and the diagram seemed correct. "Everything seems in order," she told him, handing it back. "Of course, you realize I'm very likely to make mistakes right now, so..."
"I'll take it into consideration," Blaise replied, setting the diagram aside and nearly collapsing into the nearest chair. She blinked as he let his head fall back and began to rub at his eyes. "I'm currently very sick of numbers and stars," he told her. "From your reaction, I take it I'm ahead of schedule - so I plan to eat something good, have a strong drink, and do something amusing tonight."
She was about to protest this suddenly lackadaisical attitude – they were so close! - but he opened his eyes and looked at her, and her breath caught in her throat. There was a strangely predatory look in them that she couldn't quite bring herself to object to. "Care to join me?" he asked.
Hermione swallowed.
"Er?" she said intelligently.
His mouth turned up slowly, his expression just a little sleepy but still slightly suggestive. "I said," he repeated, "would you like to do something amusing with me tonight?"
For once, even her thoughts ceased to be verbose.
"Oh," he said, still staring at her a little hungrily. "Good."