I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start
A flame in your heart
In my heart, I have but one desire
And that one is you
No other will do
- "I don't want to set the world on fire"
The Ink Spots
London, October 2394
"I'd like you to write my English paper. Name your price."
Hermione Granger slammed her locker shut before shifting to face the brave soul who'd asked that.
She didn't cheat.
She didn't break the rules. Especially not when it came to coursework and studying.
Everyone knew this.
He was casually leaning against the locker next to hers. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and a smirk was spread across his face.
Jack Crusher.
She'd seen him around the school, and they shared a couple of classes. She knew him to be a quiet boy who usually kept to himself—much like Hermione did. To see him approach her—much less make such a scandalous proposition—was surprising, to say the least.
Part of her wanted to ask him who he was and what he'd done with the real Jack Crusher. But truth be told, she didn't know what to expect from the real Jack Crusher. She didn't know him at all, and appearances could be deceptive.
"How about I charge you not to rat you out for homework bribery?" she said.
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Homework bribery?"
"Yes," she said with a firm nod. "What else would you call it?"
"How about a request? A business proposition?"
She stared at him. The gall of this guy. Honestly.
"No." She motioned down the hallway. "Now, please, go away. This is a stupid conversation, and it's wasting my valuable study time."
She counted on her rudeness to scare him off, but when his eyes brightened in amusement, she knew she was wrong.
Bother.
Hermione was still fairly new to this world, and her goals for the foreseeable future were to blend in and not stick out like a sore thumb. She'd had enough adventures while in Hogwarts. On this Earth, she just wanted to go through school quietly, without attracting any attention to herself.
If their interaction so far was any indication, getting mixed up with Jack was a bad idea.
Fortunately, he caught her after the class bell rang, so no one was around to witness this unfortunate encounter.
"Come on, Hermione," Jack said. "Help a guy a little. Be the Good Samaritan."
"The Good Samaritan? Are you in danger of being beaten by your homework and left half dead alongside the road?"
He laughed, his face transforming in a way that made her heart ache. Because it reminded her too much of Harry.
No, she told herself, tamping down the emotions that threatened to disturb her fragile equilibrium.
"Come on, Hermione. Say yes. It's easy. Just three letters. One syllable."
"No is even easier."
Hermione just wanted an ordinary, boring school year. And everything about Jack screamed trouble. Especially the way he ran a hand through his messy hair and smiled crookedly.
Harry's face, once more, flashed in her mind. Her heart clenched painfully.
"Good point. Very good point."
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Why are you even asking me? We share English, and I know you can easily write your own paper."
"Never said I couldn't write the boring-arse paper. I'd just rather not. I'm a busy guy who doesn't give two shits about Shakespeare."
She regarded him for a moment. He stared back at her intensely, a smirk still stretched across his face.
She shook her head. "Still no. Write your own boring-arse paper." She reached forward to pat him on the shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be great."
With that, she turned to leave.
" 'O Hermione, As every present time doth boast itself' ," Jack spoke to her retreating figure. " 'Above a better gone, so must' —"
"For someone who doesn't give two shits about Shakespeare," Hermione said, turning towards him sharply, "you certainly quote him rather well."
"Alright, maybe it isn't just about the boring-arse paper," he admitted. "Maybe I also want to see if the rumours about you are true."
Hermione stiffened. "Rumours? What rumours?"
In this school, she'd been very diligent to mind her business and stay in her lane. All to prevent any sort of rumours circulating about her.
Jack approached her, hands solved into his pockets once more.
He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "The rumours that you have a stick up your arse and lack personality."
This git.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I might have a stick up my arse, but I'm going to shove my foot up yours if you keep this up."
He laughed again. "See, people keep telling me that I have a stick up my arse, so I wanted to see if we—"
"What? Could have a stick fight together?"
"Something like that."
He behaved like a pompous git, and that conceited smirk was back on his face. But there was also something vulnerable about him, something lonely. Something he tried very hard to hide behind all that bravado and cockiness, but she could see it, anyway.
Hermione had to admit: she was rather lonely herself. She tried to pretend that she didn't need anyone, that her books and studies were enough. She convinced herself that that was how it had to be, at least for now.
Sure, there was her adoptive mother, Kathryn Janeway, but Starfleet kept her rather busy, and it wasn't the same, anyway. She missed Harry and Ron terribly. Sometimes, the pain was so great that it felt like a big, gaping hole in her chest. The pain that might never go away, the hole that might never heal.
She studied Jack for a few moments. It couldn't hurt, could it? Despite her reservations, there wouldn't be any harm in getting to know him better, would there? Jack wasn't one of those popular, loud and obnoxious students who sought to be the centre of everyone's attention. In fact, she'd overheard a few students dismissively refer to him as a 'weirdo' and then largely ignore him.
Well, she was a bit of a 'weirdo' herself, what with her magical abilities and all. (Not that anyone knew about them, other than Janeway.) So, they could still fly under the radar, as it were, and maybe even be friends? That last bit might be a bit of a stretch, but it would be nice to have someone other than Janeway to talk to.
She might have been scrutinizing him longer than she thought, for Jack seemed to grow uncomfortable.
He cleared his throat. "So, how about it? Will you write my boring-arse paper for me?"
She rolled her eyes. "I won't write it for you, but I will help you with it."
"Alright," he said with a wide grin. "That works."
"Meet me at the library after school."
He mock-saluted her. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Hermione felt her lips stretch into a smile.
That was the best answer he could have given her.
A/n. Hello, everyone!
Rarepair hell strikes again! If you decided to give this story a chance, thank you kindly. I will be updating it weekly for the foreseeable future, while my muse is cooperating.
Take care!