Devious Designs
Tuesday.
Hermione had postponed entering the classroom to the last minute, it was all part of the plan, but it had been difficult dodging her two best friends on the way from the Defence lesson. Still, it couldn't be helped, she'd get one shot and one shot only at sitting next to him and that was if she arrived late. Of course, she'd never be late for class, so she was fidgeting outside waiting for the bell to ring. It rang and she pushed the door open.
Professor McGonangall stared at her, then kindly asked her to take a seat.
"I'm afraid there's only one left," she said and pointed at the lone chair in the front row.
Hermione smiled and, sliding past a bewildered Harry and a vexed Ron, she gracefully sat next to the Blaise, who did not look too pleased with the turn of events as well.
"Good morning," she spoke softly and, she hoped, silkily.
She could hardly keep from giggling, but that would have ruined everything, so she just took wand, parchment, ink and quill out and concentrated on Professor McGonagall's voice.
Halfway through her lecture, Hermione had planned to not-so-casually drop her quill or her wand or something and, again not-so-casually, brush slightly against Blaise. She was wondering how to pull it off, when something very much unplanned occurred.
"Did she say 1615 or 1650?" he leaned towards her notes and his shoulder hit hers.
In the blink of an eye, all her previous confidence vanished and she flushed red, stuttering in her reply. Blaise smiled at her wanly, maybe not even noticing her cheeks, and bent on his parchment. Hermione tuned the entire class out.
I missed my chance, she thought, I missed my chance to act! Why did I have to get so nervous now? Idiot! Oh, this is really bad... If I can't be sure of myself whenever he gives me his attention, I won't get anywhere! I have to act!
She sighed, stealing a glance at him. She took down notes for the rest of the time, silently castigating herself for not being bold enough.
Once she set foot in the dungeons though, she knew there was someone else she'd be scolded by.
"What the hell were you sorted into Gryffindor for?" Draco spat, when she had finished retelling of her morning failure.
Granted, at first he had laughed at her, then he had criticized her sorry excuse for a plan and, in the end, he had resolved in agreeing she was an idiot.
"Maybe I should just talk to him."
"How is that better?" Hermione asked, her eyes downcast.
She had lost the will to concoct the potion too.
"I don't know, what I do know is that at the rate you're going, you'll never tell him," he handed her the knife.
She resumed severing the berries of the belladonna from the twig.
"Help me," she said through gritted teeth.
Really, the bane of her existence.
Draco Malfoy, seven years worth of Slytherin scheming and plotting, smirked in his customary way and proceeded in telling her how she was going to win Blaise over, verbatim. You have to make your own destiny, she would have repeated to herself on the way to her Ancient Runes class. She did believe in it, she just had a hard time getting it across.
As instructed, she had waited for Blaise outside the classroom and when he had arrived, she had cautiously offered to sit beside him. He had eyed her suspiciously, as Draco had said he would, but she had been ready.
Some words in the translation due Friday had distressed her, she'd have really appreciate taking a look at his notes in class and perhaps, she had been very keen on making it sound like she had just come up with the idea, they could revise together in their spare hour on Friday.
Blaise had visibly relaxed and agreed without giving the matter a second thought.
Still, I hate proving Draco right.
However, she had to admit, her first day of trying and she had won once and lost once, it was a good average.
Wednesday.
All morning, they were going to be side by side all morning.
When she had opened her eyes and realized it, Hermione had wanted to squeal with delight. Then, she had got up, dressed and sat down at her desk to think about what Draco had told her.
Blaise was not very talkative, but she had already guessed that, and he did not like giggling girls, her co-Head had stressed that point greatly and she had been horrified. Have I done it in his presence? She could not remember, but it wouldn't have surprising if she had. She was a girl and girls giggled at times, it was only natural. Hermione had sighed and after breakfast, she had slowly made her way to the greenhouses.
There was no way she'd be able to work beside him, she always partnered with Neville in Herbology, but for the first time, she looked at him while he dug into the soil with his hands. She herself hated re-potting; it took hours to get the dirt off, magic or no magic.
Blaise seemed to enjoy the hard work and she recalled reading something with Ginny in the library, his family had some vineyards in Italy or was it cereal crops? They were into agriculture nonetheless and she imagined he'd help out during the summer.
"Pass the shovel," she told Neville.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he replied, "Hannah borrowed it a minute ago."
"That's okay."
She watched her friend get back to work and started tidying up, the hour was almost up and Hannah Abbott would not be able to return the shovel in time even if she tried.
In some ways, it suited Hermione perfectly.
"See you in Transfiguration!" Neville yelled, waving at her as he waited to speak to Professor Sprout.
She was waving back when Blaise stepped into view. His hands were as dirty, if not more, as hers, and he was sulking.
"That Abbott girl," he said, "She yaps about your friend there all the time."
"I didn't know she fancied him," she said, sincerely surprised.
He shook his head dejectedly and they made their way to the sixth floor. She was beginning to doubt they would make it in time if they didn't hasten their pace, but Blaise's legs would not follow her lead whenever she tried to sprint their walk.
It was really turning out to be a walk and Hermione thought she might just as well make some conversation.
"Draco's giving another party this weekend."
"I know," he said, "I'm the bartender."
"Oh, right, I forgot," she replied.
He had crushed her attempt at small talk without even looking at her and she had almost felt a hint of annoyance in his voice.
I am not going to give up that easily, she resolved.
"Do you mind serving drinks to your housemates?" Gosh, that was such a stupid question.
"It's not only Slytherins," he pointed out, "And tending bar is better than having to actually participate."
"You don't like parties then."
"I don't like meaningless conversations in an even meaningless situation," he shot back, but after a twitch of his lips, his features softened, "I like our Friday night dinners though," he stared at her.
Blaise one, Hermione nil.
She bowed her head and focused on her feet walking for a while, but she forced herself to get back on the saddle or she wouldn't hear the end of it when Draco found out.
"Can I sit with you in Transfiguration?" she blurted out when the classroom drew near.
Blaise looked puzzled for a second, but he recovered instantly and inclined his head.
"Your wish is my command, milady."
He brushed past her and entered.
What a very sly cat he is, Hermione thought, he knows just where to stop before crossing the line.
Thursday.
Overnight, the Hogwarts grounds had been covered by a thick layer of snow and chattering about Christmas plans and holidays had taken over the school. Hermione glared at the piece of parchment in front of her, willing the brainteaser on it to solve itself because she was too tired to even try.
She had been up late because the sudden excess of snowy weather had urged half the student body to swarm in the hallways way past curfew and she was on Heads duty.
On my own for a change, she gritted her teeth.
"You need to double the sum," she heard her classmate say.
She turned to wanly smile at her.
"Thanks, Mandy."
"No problem!" she smiled back.
Hermione fought a yawn and resumed her calculations, but it was really hard to concentrate and by the end of class she had only solved half the problem and not in a satisfactory way, not up to her usual standards. Her mood was slowly turning sour.
"Miss Granger," Professor Vector called her when she was already through the doorway, "May I have a word?"
And when she nodded, the teacher approached her. She told her she had looked her latest assignment over and she was not at all pleased.
"Was my reasoning wrong?" she asked anxiously.
"No," Professor Vector crossed her arms, "It was imprecise though, and frankly, it was not up to your usual standards."
"I see," Hermione spoke even if she was devastated, "I'll do better next time, madam."
She could not understand how it could have happened, she was always so scrupulous in her work and, especially if she had to turn it in, she double checked everything. She felt like skipping Potions altogether, tears starting to well up in her eyes.
She started thinking that maybe the Headmaster and Madam Ravenclaw were right, any kind of feelings would interfere in her life, maybe even Blaise's life. Can I allow it? She wondered. Could I live with myself if my grades failed? But she knew she couldn't do it, being a good student was part of who she was. She got up early and went to bed late to study, to study instead of partying.
The party...
Her mind flew straight to Draco and the previous night, when she had finally agreed to 'grace them with her presence', as she had teased him.
Looking at the dungeon door, she sighed. There was no turning back now, not if she wanted Draco to take even the slightest interest in their Heads duties.
"And don't even think about moping around the bar the whole bloody time," her Potions partner whispered to her.
"Do I look like one of those girls?" she scoffed back at him.
"As a rule, no, you don't," he replied, "however, he's my best mate and I'd hate to see him go to waste."
"Malfoy!" she spat and felt the sudden irresistible urge to punch him.
It was just too easy with him. And he knew it too because he gave her a slow stare that clearly said 'and you fell for that?'.
She reached for his mind and screamed.
Jerk!
"Ouch!" he exclaimed.
Several people turned to stare at them, but Hermione put her best angelic face on, stirring the contents of their cauldron at a leisurely pace.
"You do not want to mess with me," she hissed at him when the others had resumed their potion-making.
She hadn't told him she was Ravenclaw's heir yet, because Blaise was right, he needn't knowing, but when he got under her skin like that, she wished she could scare him into servility.
Draco Malfoy deserved to treat her like royalty.
"I get it," he said, "You don't have to make a scene every time, you know."
"It's fun," Hermione replied with a wicked smile playing on her lips, "Back to the subject, I promise I won't hang around the bartender too much."
"Good thinking."
"You will have to step out of the picture at some point."
"Don't worry," he glanced at her, "I will."
"Good thinking," she mocked.
She heard Draco chuckle; he muttered something that sounded like 'so Slytherin...' and she chuckled too. Okay, maybe, just maybe, there's no need for him to call me Your Highness and such, she thought briefly.
Outside the classroom, Harry and Ron were waiting for her, but Hermione told them to go ahead and not to worry.
"You always linger behind!" Ron accused.
"I'm Head Girl now, I have duties!" she said and went back into the room.
Draco was gathering his stuff and Blaise was beside him, talking quietly.
"Don't have a clue what you're talking about, Pascal," he turned around and motioned at her, "Look, you can ask Granger, can't you?" and with a smirk in their direction, he left.
Blaise advanced towards her and together they walked in the hallway, there was nobody around.
"What is it?" she asked and saw his lips twitch.
In one swift movement, he had her pinned to the wall.
"Let me ask you something," his voice was a sibilant whisper, "What game are you playing at?"
His arms on either side of her head had her feeling caged, but his breath on her skin had her mind swirl and her temperature rise.
Oh no, not now... she pleaded.
But it was already too late, her clothes were too tight, she could sense her chest heaving with each strangled gulp of air.
She looked up at Blaise and his discomfort was evident.
"And this too!" he panted, "Why does this happen?"
"I..." Think! Think fast! "I don't know..."
"What are you always whispering with Drake about?" he said in an undertone.
"Oh, this and that," she dissimulated, "Mostly Heads stuff." This pretext is getting old already.
"You're lying," he snapped, "I'll ask you again, what the heck is going on?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Even as she said it, she knew he'd get mad because that was word for word what Draco had just told him.
He hit the wall behind her with his fist.
Oh Merlin, she worried, he's livid.
"You keep following me around," he started in a low voice that threatened to turn into shouting with each syllable, "you insist on sitting with me in class, you won't shut up and I get the third degree each time," he paused because Hermione was smiling, "It's not funny!."
"There is nothing going on," she said, "So, yes, it is funny."
"Elaborate," he replied, withdrawing his arms to his chest.
"I didn't think you'd mind my company that much," she tested.
"I don't," he said softly, averting his gaze from her.
She sighed to keep from giggling; he would not like that at that precise moment.
I like spending time with you, she thought sheepishly.
His eyes travelled back to her.
"That doesn't mean you have to be by my side all the time."
No mind-talking again, I see... she thought, not without a little amusement.
"Well," she began and smiled again, "we do share lots of classes."
"Three months ago you wouldn't have noticed if I was there or not."
Hermione was a little hurt by his tone, but she hid it.
"True," she said, "but now I do, doesn't that matter at all?"
"I value my privacy."
His statement echoed what Draco had already told her in October, so she couldn't blame Blaise for reminding her. Part of her had known he wouldn't be okay with her sudden interest in all the aspects of his life, and she had been careful.
Or so she thought.
She had not forced her presence on him at meals, and she had kept to herself outside of class.
Apparently, not enough.
"Hermione?"
She had been staring into space, she realized.
"Listen..." he ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm hungry."
She was at a loss.
Hungry?
Then she remembered. It was lunchtime, which was why the hallways were empty and why they hadn't been interrupted yet. Everyone was in the Great Hall.
And there she was, thanking her sheer nonexistent luck.
"We agreed on studying together tomorrow," he said, as if he was reminding her of a business appointment, "We can talk then," he turned to leave, but seemed to realize she hadn't given her approval, "Does that work for you?"
Hermione fixed her lips to argue back that no, it did not work for her because she'd spend the night awake, figuring out how not to tell him she had been conspiring for his attention behind his back. With his best friend. With his best friend she had kissed. A kiss they had not exactly talked about either.
"Of course," she said in the end.
She too was hungry and her mother had taught her not to discuss on an empty stomach.
Friday.
She was fidgeting in her seat, next to a very much exasperated Dean Thomas. Ten minutes and counting, and then she'd be expected to turn up in the Heads quarters where Blaise was supposedly waiting for her. Hermione glanced around the classroom for the hundredth time.
He was not there, of course, she knew he wouldn't be there. Draco had been kind enough to warn her he wouldn't.
She tapped her fingers on the desk and Dean winced.
She stopped and quickly apologised.
Her guilty gaze caught her co-Head's curious eyes, she saw him mouth her something that she just couldn't make out.
The over the top amount of caffeine in her body had started to kick in half an hour through Transfiguration and Hermione was starting to realize how bad an idea it had been to drink that much coffee at breakfast. However, she was in a comatose state, she had needed it.
She sighed. As expected, she hadn't slept much; she had been hyper and morose at the same time.
Worst mood combo ever, she thought.
Eight minutes left.
Obviously, the anticipation for their rendezvous thrilled her, Ginny had said her eyes sparkled the night before. On the other hand, she was terrified. Blaise Zabini was no Sean Carson; he was no Muggle boyfriend she could go out with on a couple dates and decide she just wasn't that desperate yet.
He was... Blaise Zabini!
She could have laughed at how absurd that sounded, even to her.
I did not just compare him to my previous boyfriends... did I? She mentally slapped herself. Only a few weeks earlier, there was nothing. Now there were these feelings; the anticipation, the thrill, the anxiety. Where had those come from?
"Hermione... please..." she heard Dean wearily whisper.
She was fidgeting again.
Five minutes left.
She stopped. Her ears focused on Professor McGonagall's voice, her hand grasped her quill and she told herself to quit the crap, even though she already knew half the stuff they were taking notes on. At least she got through the last few minutes.
"I have class now," Draco said nonchalantly.
To everyone else, he might have been speaking about the weather, but Hermione understood what was between the lines. He would not be in their quarters, not for another hour or two.
"I'll see you at lunch then?" she asked while packing her things.
Harry and Ron were probably already back in Gryffindor Tower with the rest of her housemates. A few other students were still lingering behind, but they'd be gone soon.
"Dinner's more likely," the Head Boy lowered his voice, "I swear, if you mess this up..."
"I won't," she whispered back.
I hope I don't, she added to herself.
He looked satisfied and started to leave, "The fun begins at nine, remember!."
"Stupid party," she muttered making her way up the South Tower, "and stupid stairs."
When she got to the top and greeted the painting, she was breathing heavily. She took a moment to collect herself (and her thoughts) and then she stepped into the common room.