Story: Maybe

Summary: BlaiseHermione The two express a feeling of 'what-if' in the Library and are granted the answers. Drabble/Shot.

Authoressa: Happy Birthday, Crys! (She .Crys. Black Tears)

Maybe

Hermione was in the library, like usual, studying. She knew she had a huge test in Arithmancy which would count for three grades. Hermione would never dare herself not to study for it. So, she sat in the back of the library, crammed with her notes and overly large Arithmancy textbook. She had comfortable pulled her loose, brown, tame curls into a loose ponytail atop her head and had been focusing on answering questions, the tip of her quill being bitten on. She had been in peace and quiet, ignoring the people that walked past her, until she could hear one of them.

"Vector's a sadistic bastard." The smooth voice hissed inquisitively. "Loves seeing his students in pain-oh loads of pain. Stupid test...Vector probably hopes our brains will fall out. I'd expect nothing much sicker from the sadistic son of a bitch..." The voice growled lowly, much in a fashion of exasperation and resentment. "My brain is much too valuable to lose to the likes of a vicious old Wizarding Math teacher."

Hermione turned around slightly and looked through the bookshelf in disturbance, seeing a disarray of sleek, silk black curls on a bowed over head. She could see the eagle feather quill they were holding scribble across something and quite promptly heard the sound of the other hands clambering a wand. Then, she heard a tiny explosive sound, before more talking. "Vector can shove this Arithmancy textbooks up his-"

"Maybe, you should start studying." Hermione hissed, quite annoyed, to the person behind the shelf. She heard the person mumble something inaudible under their breath, before the sound of the wooden library chair scraping the floor manifested, and she briefly wondered who she'd see, until they were standing in front of her, arms crossed.

"Expected nothing less of you, Granger." The dark-haired boy scoffed. She scowled up back at him, ignoring the mutterings he was involved in, quietly speaking in a undertone to his breathing.

"You should really be studying, Zabini. In hopes of passing the class, you know. I don't think shouting that Vector's a right bastard would help explain the fifth theory to Trigomancy."

He grinned at her. Blaise Zabini was indeed in her Advanced Arithmancy class, sharing the same worries over the test as she did, except for the fact that he had taken a rather joyous approach. Hermione noted this by the crude drawing of their round professor, and the scorch marks on the wooden table. She cringed.

"By Merlin, Zabini, if Madam Pince finds those marks on the table, I'll be banned from the library..." She half-whined and half-wailed to the Slytherin. He shrugged, taking the seat in front of her and snatching up her notes.

"Oh gee, Granger. He does want brains. Yours would be first, you know, unless you somehow manage to make it through his test without the incessant urge to reach inside you head and practice a good game of soccer with your left brain." He said sarcastically, his indigo eyes flashing. She still managed to keep a grin in place, aside from the theft of her Arithmancy notes to the boy in front of her.

"Maybe, you've got a few screws loose." She muttered.

"Hey, I resent that! Maybe, you shouldn't be such a know-it-all and not get made fun of all the time, Granger!" Blaise exclaimed. If Madam Pince was in view, she was probably cursing Blaise to a place almost as burning as the marks he had left on the library table. She frowned slightly, but scowled.

"Maybe, you should go find someone else's Arithmancy notes, because this know-it-all actually needs them." She spat back angrily, attempting to take her notes back. The Slytherin grinned and held them away from her.

"Maybe, the know-it-all should figure out that the quite handsome, reckless, wild Slytherin is trying to get on her last nerves and is excited that it's working." She scowled even more.

"Maybe, oh-I don't know, the Slytherin should remember that the know-it-all has a history of hurting the Slytherin House and should give her back her notes before she plays soccer with the barely rugged-handsome Slytherin's brain." Hermione was getting agitated. To prove of her violent history in Slytherin, Hermione kicked Blaise from under the table and ended up high enough to hit his stomach.

He released a large breath of air and returned a glare to the girl. She smiled mockingly at him and just for kicks, she cracked her knuckles.

"Maybe, the know-it-all should apologize to the antagonizing angle of beautiful Slytherin God in front of her with the prolonged extension of borrowing her notes." He grinned, nursing his most-likely-bruised stomach.

"Maybe, the Slytherin should give up all hope of leaving the library breathing." She said sardonically, as she began to put her books away. Blaise reluctantly slid her notes across the library table, walked behind her and muttered a spell to rid the burn marks off the wooden table, and paused in front of her. She had pushed her chair in politely and had packed up her books.

"Maybe, this Slytherin should give up all hope of the know-it-all ever fancying him back." He said breathlessly, brushing his lips across hers, before he strode from the library. She stared after him, touching her lips in day-dreaming bliss, before calling out, "Zabini!"

The raven-haired boy turned around to face her.

"Maybe, the Slytherin would leave the library breathing." He gave her a glance.

"Which would mean..." She sighed, with a smile.

"Can't you figure out? You compared me not letting you leave the library breathing to me not ever like you. If I said that you could leave breathing..." She said softly, waiting for it to click in his brain. He looked up at her, while she was slowly walking towards the boy. Slowly, she placed a hand on his cheek and pressed her lips to his.

"Maybe..." He said softly, before joining lips with her again.

Maybe