Work Text:
This should be simple enough, is Hermione's first thought at the Unspeakables' orientation. She has the best OWL and NEWT results of anybody in the class, their trainers already favor her (although that made her slightly uncomfortable), and she is confident in the material, in what she needs to learn over the course of the next few weeks. She has a decent learning curve, and the promise of the unknown appeals greatly to her as well. She knows, the minute the Unspeakables begin their introductions, that she has found her calling.
"This should be simple enough," someone murmurs in her ear. She jolts, turns around to look, and catches herself looking straight in the eyes of someone she last thought to meet.
"You."
He winks, holds out his hand to shake hers. "Blaise Zabini, in case you don't remember."
"I do remember," she snaps back at him, harsher than she initially intended. She flushes, shakes her head. "Sorry, I was just--"
Blaise smiles, easy and nonchalant, but he withdraws his profferred hand. "I completely understand," he says. "You'd rather not associate with my sort."
She tries to protest, to deny his thinly veiled, politely executed accusation, but his eyes are focused on their trainer's words. He is completely wrong, of course, but she doesn't find it necessary to correct him then and there. There will be time in the future, she thinks, especially since it seems as though they will be working closely together.
Hopefully, it's as simple as it sounds.
***
It isn't, of course, she soon finds out. With the Department of Mysteries nothing ever is, and the regimen they are given is surprisingly more than Hermione first expects.
There are things, she soon realizes, that reading textbooks and revising hours for won't necessarily help with, and it starts feeling like a repeat of sixth year all over again, when Harry had his secret book on potions and Hermione only had her regular textbook to go by. It's a disadvantage to growing up Muggle, she knows now, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating. She doesn't have the instinct for magic the way people who grow up with it do, but she is Hermione Granger, and she knows she can't use that as an excuse.
She refuses to use it as an excuse.
So she works harder than ever at mastering the skills that make an Unspeakable trainee an excellent Unspeakable, keeping her eyes and ears peeled for what her other trainees did when they were in their sessions. Blaise, she finds, has a particular knack for creative spellwork, using a mix of different spells to craft one to his own liking.
"It's more efficient that way," he says when he catches her staring.
"I wasn't looking," she hastily adds, turning away to focus on her own spellwork.
"Of course you weren't," Blaise says, and his hand is suddenly on hers, guiding it in a lazy eight. "But if I were you, I'd try waving my wand this way instead."
She can feel her cheeks pink, can feel the heat rise in her face, but she simply mumbles a quick thanks and moves away as quickly as she can.
***
Blaise Zabini is as infuriating as Unspeakable training is shaping up to be. He seems to take to the training as easily as Hermione is struggling with hers, and she is torn between a burning jealousy, wracking guilt, and a strictly academic fascination. He is talented, she'll give him that, with a knack for problem solving that is ingenious at times, completely out of line in others.
"I don't think you're allowed to do that," she hisses at him during one exercises. Her grip on her wand has slackened, the same way her jaw has, that she nearly misses the spell when it comes at her. She lets out a bloodcurdling curse before her natural instincts kick in and she ducks in time. It is Blaise who has her back, and when he turns around to help her on her feet there is a bemused smile on his face.
"What?" she asks, almost in a huff.
"Never thought you had that vocabulary on you, Granger."
"I don't," she says, snatching her hand away once she's on her feet. "Thank you."
She looks away then, but when the session starts anew she finds herself side-eyeing Blaise, the way he moves and reacts to the simulation. His head moves her way but she suddenly busies herself with practicing the new spellwork she notices him doing earlier.
***
It becomes a game, eventually, with Hermione picking up from Blaise just as much as or even more than what she learns from hours of revisions. Mastering her Unspeakable training is now a challenge, but one she fully embraces, consummate as she is with her work and being the best she can be.
"I can just teach you, you know," Blaise says one day, and she nearly falls over from surprice. He'd snuck up behind her, and she whips around to tell him she was fine, thanks, but there he is with such an easy, casual smile, that she starts wondering what, exactly, has been bothering her about him from day one.
"Teach me what?"
"How I do it?"
She frowns. "Why?"
"Do I need an ulterior motive?"
"No, but you're--" she catches herself in time, but not before a flicker of understanding crosses Blaise's eyes.
"I knew it," he says, and immediately she feels guilty.
"No, you don't. I just-- I'm not used to being the one who's helped," she admits finally.
He shrugs. "I know the feeling."
There is silence between them for a moment, and then: "So. How do you do it?"
***
"I did have an ulterior motive," Blaise admits five months later, their training long over. He whispers this in her ear, like he did that first time, but now she finds she doesn't mind at all.