Perfect Marks
By Rurouni Star
A/N: Yes, I'm not really all that cruel. Here it is. Enjoy. It may be a while before the next one, or it may not.
Eleven.
"Alveus," Hermione said, "is not a word. Well, not one you can use, anyway."
Blaise frowned at her. "It is very much a word," he replied, "and you know it." He crossed out his score and added an exorbitant number to it, which brought him about fifty points higher than her own score. "Also, that's a double word score."
She frowned back. "I meant that it's Latin, and the rules explicitly say that you can't use foreign words because the letters are weighted for English." She grabbed for the score pad, to scribble him back down to his prior score, but he lifted it up out of her way.
"You made that up," Blaise accused her. He paused. "Also, you're slurring."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but her hand had already been going for the wineglass next to her. "Am... am not." It wasn't her fault it was a really good vintage. Or something. She'd never much had any sort of alcohol before, but whatever he'd gotten his house elf to bring over, it was addictive.
And she was not slurring.
"Your turn," he said. The pad was next to his knee, across the board from her. She wouldn't be able to get at it quickly enough, by any means.
Hermione sighed, and shook her head. "Fine. Fine." She scanned the board, then smiled triumphantly. "Fine," she said again, and snatched a few letters from her pile. Her hands were only weaving a teeny bit as she set them down on one side of his word. "Laetitia. That's..." She squinted a little. "Eight. Plus a triple letter score – ten. Plus, I used all my letters. That's an extra fifty."
He stared at her. Then down at her wine. Then back at the board.
"How can you still be playing like this after three glasses?" he asked her. "It's not fair."
Hermione took another long sip, and gave him a prim look. "I happen to pride myself on my loquacity and articulation, at all times and in all states of... of..." She frowned. "...cognizance."
Blaise shook his head incredulously. "Do you realize," he demanded, "that you are using longer and longer words, the more you drink?"
"I'm sure there's a simpler word for that," she muttered to herself, not quite listening to him. "Sensibility, perhaps..."
"I refuse to play Scrabble with a drunk who can't speak in less than three syllables," he told her.
"I!" Hermione paused, and looked down at her wineglass again. Her brow knit. Hadn't this been full a moment ago? "I am not drunk," she said finally. "I am... very slightly inebriated, perhaps, but I dislike your assertions that I might- might be- a dipsomaniac." She leaned in toward him, and nearly lost her balance over the game board. "Because I'm not."
Blaise looked down at her, blinking. She smiled. His eyes were really very pretty – or, no, it was more his eyelashes. They were longer than usual, and they made his eyes look more startling than they might otherwise be. Funny, that she'd never taken the time to examine him, to figure that out-
Oh. Right, because that would mean she was staring.
"I'm not staring," she declared to him, just to clear that part up.
"Oh," he said, looking back at her. "All right then."
His lips were very delicious-looking as well, in some way. She couldn't quite put her finger on why. He would probably taste a little like wine if she kissed him now, and that wasn't necessarily such a bad thought. In fact, it sounded very appetizing indeed.
"Hang me," Hermione said, blinking again. "I think Parvati was right for once." She had, at some point, leaned in so far that she could feel his heat again. And when she pressed forward through those few extra inches, finally, it was just as satisfying as she'd imagined it would be. It put her a little too much off balance, but that was hardly a problem now – she felt him catch her in surprise, his arm around her waist, his hand slightly askew on her hip-
Her lips missed a few inches, but this wasn't too bad. His skin had its own taste, and his neck was much softer than the callused thumb that had caught at the skin of her side. She forgot the wine, caught up in an entirely different addiction and fascination. His breath hissed in, shocked, when she nibbled at the spot a little bit. I wonder if he'd mind if I ate him a little, she thought irrationally, and a little laugh bubbled up out of her.
"You got me drunk," she laughed against his neck. For some reason, this was suddenly hilarious.
His hand tightened on her hip in a very nice way, then, and she felt him press her back onto the board. A few pieces scattered, but others were still pressing themselves into her hands. His other hand grasped the back of her neck, tilting it up so that his mouth could descend on her pulse point. She gasped, her laughter dissipating into a giddy surge of heat.
Things very well may have degenerated at that point. In fact, she really really wanted them to, as she attested by sliding hands up his back and tugging him further forward. But there was a sound at the edge of her senses, something familiarly annoying. The door. Someone was knocking there.
She could feel Blaise's breath against her neck, his weight pressed against her, his thumb brushing over her hipbone...
Someone was going to die.
"I don't want to get that," she said dimly.
"What a coincidence," he growled, his teeth nibbling at her neck. "I don't want you to either."
Well. That certainly decided things, now, didn't it?
Blaise brushed those admirable lips over the underside of her jaw, and things began to proceed exactly as they should have. She'd just dared to tangle a hand in his hair (curlier than hers, which was funny, because she'd never met anyone with hair curlier than hers), which elicited a very promising groan from him – but then, the voices started.
"Hermione! You'd better open up now, Hermione, or I swear to god-"
"Ron, would you shut up?" Then: "Hermione! If you don't open up, I'll blow down the door!"
Correction: two people were going to die.
"Damn," Blaise muttered against her skin. "And I promised to be nice to the Boy Wonder from now on." He pushed himself up a little waveringly, and she had to stop herself from tugging him down again. Immediately, she missed his heat.
"That's all right," Hermione said, feeling a little muzzy. "I didn't."
Hermione had probably somewhat underestimated her state of cognizance. She found herself stumbling a little as she headed for the door. She was fairly sure that the flush on her face was due to more than alcohol, though.
"What have I told you about threatening my house?" Hermione demanded, drawing her wand and yanking open the door.
Ron, his hair as red as ever, and his head thick as ever, seemed to actually flinch back from her for a second. Harry didn't even bother putting up a brave front. He jumped back in shock.
She wavered, then, and gave a teeny little hiccup.
That made them both straighten immediately.
"Hermione," Ron demanded. "Are you drunk?"
"Look who's talking!" she said immediately. That didn't make any sort of immediate sense, though, so she clarified. "You're the only person who's ever gotten me to drink anything alcoholic, and as I recall, you had me bringing you aspirin while I was nearly dying myself-"
"You are drunk!" Harry said incredulously. His eyes focused on something behind her, then, and his expression went dark. "Auror Zabini," he said. "What a surprise."
Blaise stumbled into Hermione just a little as he came up behind her. She envied the fact that it was a graceful stumble, that he could still manage to outdo her, even drunk. "We were playing Scrabble," he said, his arm draped around her shoulders. She could imagine the lopsided grin on his face.
"Is that what you call it?" Ron asked, and Hermione glared at him in spite of the fact that he was really spot on for once.
She straightened her shoulders, but didn't duck out from Blaise's grasp. "I won, in fact," she said primly.
"You did not!" Blaise accused immediately. "You can't use Latin words in Scrabble, remember?"
"Look who's talking, Mr. Alveus-double-word-score!"
She became aware that Harry was staring at her, and that Ron wasn't too far behind him. His dark face suddenly turned helpless, and he broke into laughter.
"Hermione," Ron said. "Oh. Oh my god."
She and Blaise probably shot them identical glares. In fact, she felt his arm tighten around her shoulders, and she wondered whether he was remembering just how wonderfully close they'd been a few minutes ago.
"Here we figured- and you're a bad influence on him!" Ron laughed.
Harry wiped at his eyes, behind his glasses. "Be careful, Zabini. She'll have you studying something before long."
Blaise's fingers brushed over the back of her neck in a wicked way, and Hermione felt her breath catch. "Oh yes," he said, his mouth curling up. "I'm learning Arithmancy."
Ron guffawed further, apparently missing the accompanying gesture.
"Well, it was terribly nice and decorous of the two of you to make this social visit at... what, eleven at night?" Hermione said, her eyes narrowing. "And I'm sure you were both very... well-intentioned... but I'm quite ready for you to leave now."
Harry shook his head. "Actually..." He glanced at Ron. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist. Or we are. Moody is taking this seriously, which means that you can't just blow us off like before." His eyes settled on the slightly inebriated Zabini. "Besides, your bodyguard is drunk."
"But quite capable," Zabini replied, and Hermione blinked as he tapped her cheek with his wand. He had apparently been holding it up his sleeve as he came up behind her. "You'd be dead if you were a Death Eater."
"A Death Eater wouldn't knock," Harry fired back, and she groaned. This was not going to turn into a 'who's the better dark wizard killer' conversation, was it? (They came up much more often than one would think).
"I set up wards," Zabini said immediately. "By all means, let me know if you can get through them, especially without alerting me. I'll just wait inside until you dazzle me with your cat burglar act, shall I?"
Yes. It was going to be one of those conversations.
"I could get through any wards you put up," Ron interrupted, his eyes narrowed. "Harry could just wipe the floor with you."
"I'd like to see that-" Blaise started coldly, but Hermione ducked his arm with an exasperated growl and pushed him outside.
"Go ahead," she said shortly. "All three of you. Fight it out for all I care. But as it turns out," her eyes narrowed here. "I don't need any of you to hold my hand. Concern noted. Now go home."
She slammed the door in front of them. The lock and the wards closed, only a moment later.
I'd nearly forgotten why I hate boys, she thought darkly, as she headed toward her room.
