Authors Note: SO this has been sitting on my computer for a while now. It's not completed but it has 3 1/2 chapters, really long chapters too. I thought I would put up here and see what kind of response I would get. If it's good, I'll continue, and if it's not, I'll probably finish it (eventually!). This isn't one of my priorities. BUT be warned, if you read this, it's really rough. It's basically a half-formed idea.


I remember when I first came to work with him. I had just graduated from University and I was just to be his PR Agent. His personal agent. Out of the many applicants, I was chosen.

Over the years, I didn't think anything of it. And after many years, we became more then client and boss. We became friends. There were days were he would invite me over to watch movies and have a few drinks. It was always fun. How could it not be? Harry was a fun person.

What Harry didn't have was a fun job. Being a Prime Minister was never fun. He came home with a lot of stress, with worries. I remember many nights when he would vent to me about the opposing candidates trying to send women his way to distract him. Those ploys would never work. He saw through their acts too soon. He would catch the cameras and when one was spotted he would call his guard to take them away.

She's broken out of her reverie by her work phone ringing. She sighs audibly, "Yes," she answers without looking at the caller id.

"Hermione?" she hears softly on the other end. She tenses, her breath hitches in her throat.

"Harry? What's wrong?" she says just as quietly.

"Something happened. Well, it ended..." he sighs loudly.

Hermione's eyes clench tightly, she knows what he means, its not the first time this has happened. "Harry? I'm coming over! Don't move!" she orders.

She snaps her cell phone closed, and puts on the first shirt she touches. She pulls on her slippers and rushes out of her flat.

In no time, she's at Harry's grand home, the guards let her pass with a nod and she runs up the stairs. She knocks on his bedroom door, she waits to hear him affirm her entrance. She doesn't hear anything and with a huff she enters his room. She smells the alcohol from the doorway. "Oh Harry..." she mutters brokenly. She walks to his sitting area and sees him reclined against the sofa's edge.

She sits gingerly next to him, "What happened?"

"She was fake..." he answers hollowly.

Her brow furrows, "Who was fake?"

"Ginny," he answers her with a fake chuckle. "I thought for once, she was the real deal you know? She was smart, funny, and vivacious. She was beautiful..." Hermione winces when he says that. "And she was so horrendously fake!" he yells.

Hermione flinches at his tone, she places a hand softly on his arm, "So she wasn't whom you thought she was…" she says simply.

He nods, "You know what hurts?" she shakes her head. "We had talked about getting married and having a family. She said she only saw it happening with me! But she was just a spy! And she was dating somebody else too!" He says loudly, taking a sloppy gulp of the vodka in his hand.

She pulls the bottle away from his grasp, "No more for you! Let's get you to bed!"

"NO! Drink with me Hermione!" He protests loudly, he grabs the bottle from her hands and tries to get her to drink. "It'll make me happy! Drink with me!" He thrusts the bottle at her face.

"Harry! I really shouldn't! You're my boss! I work for you! If people found out that this is what we do, you'll be ruined!" she shrieks.

"Hermione, has anybody told you, you think too much?" he slurs.

Hermione tenses, a past boyfriend told her that frequently, angrily she grabs the bottle from his hand and takes a long gulp from the bottle. "I do not think too much!" she yells.

Harry freezes at her words, they stare at each other for a few seconds before breaking out into laughter. "You're right, you don't think too much. You care too much. That's what I love about you..." Harry whispers.

Hermione stares at him wonderingly, and then she takes a long greedy gulp of the Vodka. It's just the vodka speaking. "Do you remember the first week that I worked for you?" Hermione asks him with bright glassy eyes, the vodka clearly working through her system.

He chuckles, "How could I not? You were so excited and anxious that you kept spilling coffee over yourself and over me! I thought for sure I would've fired you! But you proved me wrong. You worked so hard! You were so young too..." he says with a far away look.

"Please, you're only seven years older than me! That's not much!" she says with a giggle.

"Age is but a number!" Harry says with a croaky voice, imitating a man they saw on television. They both start guffawing.

They end up face-to-face, Hermione stares doe eyed at him. Harry searches her face, he softly traces her lower lip, and she shudders at his touch. "You're so beautiful," he whispers.

Hermione sighs angrily and looks away from him, "Don't make fun of me, Harry. I've seen the women you date. I'm nothing compared to them." She whispers matter of fact.

He mutters angrily under his breath, "Well, look at how those relationships turned out. Thirty-five and still single, I'm clearly doing something wrong."

"Maybe you're not looking at what's right in front of your face..." Hermione whispers. She stares at the bottle of vodka in her hand and sighs before taking another drag.

Harry stares at her intently, "Maybe you're right..." he whispers before grabbing her face in his hands and planting his lips on hers. Hermione freezes under him and them responds greedily. Letting her emotions over take her. She didn't know if the alcohol was making her act this way, or if the alcohol just boosted her confidence. Either way, this was something she wanted.

And she wasn't going to let her conscious ruin it.

For Harry, he didn't know what he was doing. But he knew he couldn't stop. This was Hermione, and he trusted Hermione. Hermione was his best friend.

He liked Hermione. He couldn't…no, he didn't want to stop. He liked the feel of her under him, he liked the feel of her hair in his hands, the way she would sigh happily when he reached a spot on her neck. Or the way she would press herself against him when she wanted more.

There was no way he wanted to stop this.


Author's Note: Rough right? I know the characters were OOC and the beginning needs to be fleshed out more. But I can always go back and fix it. Trust me, I will get to it eventually. Maybe when I graduate at the end of this year.