A/N: Hello! :) This is my first femmeslash fiction featuring my very first OC. Her name is Amanda Watson, a 19-year-old legal secretary. She's working for Hermione Granger, who is a 25-year-old divorce solicitor at the Magical Matrimonial Office in London, with whom Amanda is infatuated. :) I'll try to keep the rest as canon as possible. The Dramione/Drastoria pairing is only the subplot.)
Disclaimer: I do not own the Potter universe and the characters in it. I own the OC and all characters related to her.
Chapter 1 – Rule Number 1: Don't Fancy Your Boss
"Amanda, would you kindly Floo this address? It's the local County Court in Boston; Lincolnshire. Ask for Mr. Gregory Goyle's solicitor, Mr. Blaise Zabini, and make an appointment for the earliest time possible. He doesn't respond to my Owls and he needs to be there at the meeting," her boss instructed rather casually, flipping through the memorandum pages in her hands.
After a short pause, she handed a small note with the address attached to the petition folder over to Amanda. "I've been trying to Floo him but his Floo network's been inaccessible. Kindly pass him the message that the Petitioner, Mrs. Parkinson-Goyle is, for the fifth time, accusing her husband of adultery. Tell Mr. Zabini that Mrs. Parkinson-Goyle has finally provided a name and an address of the Co-respondent, Miss Stacy Wolff. The Court will serve the petition to the Respondent as soon as possible."
Amanda stared at her boss's moving lips but failed to focus on the words being said. One could say that this was a somewhat unsatisfactory attribute to being a legal secretary since needing to be attentive to details was mandatory. She heard that authoritative yet kind voice, but the exact meaning of the words wasn't comprehended.
Amanda had to be careful because she had promised herself that she must concentrate more on the instructions than on that gentle voice itself.
Amanda's eyes wandered from those cherry lips to the glossy chestnut-eyes, instantly captured by the depth of them. The pile of folders was placed carefully on Amanda's desk, and she glanced down quickly, only to look up and see her boss smiling absently on a folder she was holding.
Responding with a dutiful nod and taking the note from the folder, Amanda was momentarily unable to think clearly. She had heard something resembling the name 'Casey' or 'Stancy' and to call someone up somewhere for adultery. Oh dear Merlin, what kind of secretary was she if she couldn't as much as follow such simple instruction?
She blinked, not wanting to give her confusion away, though her boss didn't seem to have noticed anything seeing how she merely turned on her heel without looking up from the folder in her hand. Amanda watched her boss retreating figure, mesmerised by the perfectly sculpted body, which disappeared into the nearby office.
"Yes, o-okay," Amanda muttered under her breath, once she heard the office door fall shut. She grinned widely from ear to ear and released a muffled sigh, hoping nobody in the office had noticed her momentary trance. She continued filing her fingernails, staring dreamily at her perfectly manicured nails.
It was thanks to her former school friend, Lucy Burton, whose father owned the company that Amanda got employed as a legal secretary at the Magical Matrimonial Regulations Office there in London. And when she was introduced to the woman Amanda was assigned to, Amanda knew she had to prove that she really was qualified for this position.
She felt like a fifteen-year-old teenager again, fawning over the teacher or a hot Quidditch player. Except this time, it was different. She was infatuated with another woman.
Putting away her nail file, Amanda retrieved her pocket mirror and examined her reflection. She looked pretty, thus, she must have looked pretty when her boss had seen and spoken to her. Fortunately, she had just come from the washroom, after retouching her make-up, applying new blush and adding another coat of thick black mascara. She regarded a lock of strawberry-blonde hair that was curling ever so slightly in her face and ran her left palm over the top of her head, attempting to flatten the small strands that were sticking out in all directions.
"I should buy a new potion conditioner," she mused, talking to her reflection as she brushed her tongue along her bleach-white teeth. "My hair's getting a bit dry…"
Although Amanda was striving to perform a good job every day, she was also taking care of her physical appearance to look perfect, and not just for the clients, but especially for the object of her fantasy—her female boss. She was constantly on a diet and would only buy sugar-free, fat-free and calorie-free drinks. She performed precisely twenty sit-ups every night and attended aerobics classes twice a week. Though this ritual seemed painfully Muggle-like, beauty potions only brought back bad memories of her school days and spells had a nasty habit of going awry…
But then again, Amanda wondered, why on earth did she try so hard to impress her boss? All her efforts seemed rather futile; it wasn't like the older woman would ever go out on a date with her—her own secretary. She'd hardly ever looked at her or acknowledged her existence in the office.
If this delicate information ever came to light that she was attracted to her boss, would she get fired? Maybe not, unless her behaviour was deemed to amount to sexual harassment and Amanda would never let it go that far. She couldn't imagine working for anyone else, not now when her feelings for the other woman had crossed the edge of a simple infatuation. One could say that she even cared about her boss—she cared a big deal about her. Maybe…she even liked her…a lot.
It was in Amanda's seventh year when she had realised she never liked blokes that way—tall, broad-shouldered, Quidditch-playing, sweaty, smelly blokes. It was an awkward feeling to have a hard, muscular body pressed against her, crushing the air out of her lungs, the strange musky odour of the male body that lay upon her flooding her nose, while making love to her in an animalistic way. At any rate, this was what she had experienced with her long-term boyfriend, Bradley, who was horrible in bed.
Amanda had dated several blokes only to figure out shortly before graduation that she had always been attracted to the same sex. It was a real shock—though a pleasurable one—when Amanda felt the first time in her teenage life the soft lips of another girl on hers.
It had been unexpected; both girls even had boyfriends, one knowing the other was straight, and the other just realising she was not. It was the mere result of a drink game, under the influence of alcohol, of teasing between two friends and daring the other to do something 'silly' before leaving Hogwarts…
*.*.*.*
"I could never do that!" Amanda exclaimed, clasping her hands to her mouth to stifle a giggle. "I will most certainly not leave the common room, wearing nothin' but my bra-brassiere and trousers. What if somebody sees me?" she squeaked, her face feeling hot.
"Wha? Brochure?" Lucy Burton mumbled incoherently. "Nonsense, no one's gonna see you, Mandy," she reassured her. Eyes droopy, in one hand holding a bottle of firewhisky, she added in a slur, "It's almost four in the morning, and we're the only people still awake."
"I told you not to call me Mandy!" Amanda drawled, glaring at her giggling friend and then throwing the couch pillow at her. Amanda disliked her nickname, but Lucy loved annoying her that way. "And no, I can't do it," she whined, playing with the neck of her firewhisky bottle.
She felt tipsy already, but thinking about it, it was their last night at Hogwarts. The very next day both girls would be boarding the Hogwarts Express for the last time, and parting ways. Lucy would move to Australia with her parents and Amanda would stay in England. She had planned to move out of her parents' house once she'd earn her own money. And maybe, if she was ready, she would move in together with her boyfriend, Bradley.
"You only have to walk out, that's all," Lucy said, placing a hand on her friend's thigh. "After that, I'll do whatever you wanna. You can even make me walk out naked, eh?" Lucy threw her head in her neck and laughed out loudly, as if she had just made a silly joke.
Taking a deep, she noticed one empty firewhisky bottle beside Lucy, another clutched in her hand. Her friend had drunk the same amount of liquor, but it seemed as though she was more inebriated than Amanda.
"All right, it's a deal," Amanda said in defeat, taking a last big gulp from her bottle to instantly lose all remaining inhibition. She pulled her grey jumper vest over her head and started unbuttoning her white uniform blouse.
Lucy grinned at her as she followed Amanda outside the common room, but not without disturbing the Fat Lady from her sleep. A chilly gust of wind whipped against Amanda's half-nude body, making goose bumps on her skin crawl. The two friends wobbled outside, giggling and hushing each other to be quiet, without further paying attention to the Fat Lady's complaints.
"Okay, I d-did it," Amanda stuttered, feeling her teeth clipper in the coldness. "Now lets g-g-go back inside."
"No," Lucy said, sniggering in amusement, "you have to dance first. And make it sexy."
Amanda's jaw would have dropped if it wasn't clattering fiercely from the cold. "A-a-a-are you c-c-crazy? I'm getting a c-c-cold here. Let's get inside n-n-now."
"Just a little sexy dance, c'mon, Mandy," Lucy pleaded, making big puppy eyes. "I like the way you dance. Shake that booty." She giggled again, holding her stomach.
"I-I-I told you not to call me Mandy!" Amanda snapped angrily.
"Please?" Lucy insisted. "I will never call you Mandy if you dance now. For me?" She grinned, batting her magically extended eyelashes.
"Jeez, then c-c-call me Mandy, for all I care, but I-I-I definitely not d-d-dance in this cold!" Amanda rubbed her arms and kept on staring down the staircase, looking back to the Fat Lady, afraid it might swing aside and somebody seeing her in her bra. Why did she have to strip her blouse off if all that Lucy wanted was to see her dance?
"Okay, fine, you party pooper. You don't have to dance but you'll take a little walk with me," Lucy suggested, sighing in surrender. "I'll get your clothes. Wait here a minute. You wait here! Don't come in!" Before she could respond to that rather suspicious demand, Lucy had already disappeared back inside the common room.
For a moment she thought that Lucy might play a prank on her. What if she locked her out? Or hid her blouse and woke up the sleeping students on the floor, only to humiliate Amanda in front of everybody? Could Lucy be so cruel? Maybe not. Luckily a short moment later, Lucy came wobbling outside, throwing her black long hair over her shoulder, while having two robes draped over her arm.
"I couldn't find your blouse, just put this on." She threw the robe lazily at Amanda and dragged her away from their common room towards a deserted dim-lit corner down the hallway.
"But I threw my blouse on the couch," Amanda cried as she tried throwing on her robe over her shoulders. She had quite difficulties doing this, seeing how Lucy wouldn't let go of her arm, still pulling her.
"Now, it's your turn, right, Amanda?" Lucy enunciated her name, looking over her shoulder before they came to a halt.
"We should get back inside. I don't wanna get caught; it's past curfew," Amanda said worriedly. She hated breaking the school rules. She had not been made a prefect in their fifth year because of her poor grades, maybe, but she had always abided by the rules.
Lucy hushed her as she put a finger on Amanda's lips. "Relax. It's our last night, Amanda-girl. Is this okay?"
"Huh?" Amanda responded ineloquently, noticing their sudden proximity.
Whatever it was Lucy had asked permission for, she didn't give Amanda a chance to protest, because she just did what she wanted.
It took Amanda by surprise when she realised that her friend had pressed her soft lips against hers. Her gasp caused Lucy to pull away slightly, looking at her through heavy-lidded eyes—a look Amanda had never seen on her friend before—at least not directed at her.
One part of Amanda knew she had to pull away in order to prevent what both might regret the next day—because this was awkward. The other told her that, 'Who cares? It feels nice.' Maybe this was what she had been looking for; after all, she had never been really happy in her past relationships and the experiences she had gained from them, more or less. She loved Bradley, but let's face it, he didn't know how to kiss her like this.
"Lucy…" Amanda said softly between the kisses, pulling away when she felt her friend's hand disappearing underneath her robe, making her jump when she felt Lucy's cold fingers on her warm skin. Amanda was the tallest of the pair, so Lucy had to pull Amanda down slightly to even their heights.
Lucy leaned in again, their lips barely touching. She was teasing Amanda's lips with her own, smiling against it. In Amanda's past relationships no bloke had ever caused such a tingling sensation in her stomach with just a simple touch of the lips. Only when the wave of blissful ecstasy had spread through her veins, she realised that she liked it. Not because it was Lucy, not because she had feelings for her friend, for she knew she had none, but because of the sensation of kissing another girl.
They looked at each other again, before finally, Amanda returned a smile, tilting her head to give permission to go on.
"What's the dare, Amanda?" Lucy said breathily, their faces only inches away from each other.
Alcohol must taken control over Amanda's brain in that moment, when Amanda felt her arms wrapping around the shorter girl, only to pull her closer. "I dare you to kiss me again."
The following kiss was not even remotely chaste—it was passionate. They kissed each other like they'd kiss their boyfriends. There were tender hands stroking Amanda's body—so that's why Lucy had made her strip off her blouse, only to feel her skin directly—no animalistic groping paws of some horny bloke. It felt awkward at first to feel other breasts that were not her own, but Amanda started to like it, unlike that flat and hard chest that squeezed her lungs. These were sweet scents of fruity shampoo and Vanilla-smelling skin Amanda inhaled deeply, not the sour apocrine perspiration. There was no need to pretend she was enjoying it, no need to fake moans when feeling the kisses hot on her neck and mouth.
At this moment, everything was perfect.
They kissed for the rest of the night, pressed against a wall in a secluded corner, on the last night before they left each other the next morning.
That was also the very last time she had heard of Lucy Burton.
"Are you feeling all right, Amanda?"
Amanda was startled from her daydream when she looked up at her boss, who she had not noticed was in front of her again, scribbling something on a piece of parchment on Amanda's desk. Bushy brown hair pulled back to a neat bun, while little cute curls escaped in all directions.
"Your face is a bit red," she pointed out after a fleeting glance at her. "Could you Owl this message to Ginny Weasley and tell her that I'll meet her tomorrow for dinner about eight o'clock?"
"How lucky she is," Amanda mumbled, staring at the outstretched letter in her boss's slender hand, as though hypnotised.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, oh, I said, yes, ma'am," Amanda corrected herself quickly, taking the letter. She brushed very subtly her hand over her boss's creamy ones, fighting back the urge to grin like a schoolgirl in love.
"Thank you, Amanda," she said, turning around and leaving once again. "You can knock off work now. There's nothing else to do anymore. And take a rest, you work too hard."
For a moment Amanda thought that her boss was perhaps being sarcastic, but then she noticed the sincere tone when she saw that friendly smile.
Amanda always worked overtime just to leave the building with her boss together—and with 'together' she meant, her boss walked ahead of her while Amanda followed behind. She would always find anything to do to stay longer, just to earn some praise for her 'hard work'. Of course sometimes she seemed to be overly caring more for her own beauty, but if it came down to it, she could eventually work on files for days without sleep.
Just to see a simple smile from her was enough to make her happy.
Amanda straightened her blouse and brushed the creases out of her black skirt, checked her face a last time in her mirror then unclasped the clip from her hair so that her curls cascaded down her shoulders before heading to her boss' office.
Maybe she shouldn't be too obvious. People were looking. Her boss might have already suspected something, hence, the avoidance of direct eye-contact. If only Amanda could stop blushing in front of her whenever she gave that patented killer smile that made Amanda's knees go weak, then everything would be easier.
Knocking once against the wooden door, she called, "Miss Granger, I'll be leaving now. If you need anything else—"
There was this noise of high heels on the wooden floor that moved towards the door, in the next moment it opened, revealing Miss Granger's flawless face Amanda had grown to admire over the past six months. Maybe it was just her who perceived this woman as being perfect and beautiful, who knows? Maybe Miss Granger was only ordinary-looking to others. She didn't know her boss very well; to her she was a highly respected solicitor in the office, reliable, hard-working, and kind-hearted; from a distance she attributed all these qualities because they were ideal. Whatever she was really like, Amanda didn't care, because in her mind Miss Hermione Granger was perfect.
There were times when Amanda wondered what facial creams, nurturing salves or beauty soaps her boss was using. Her lips had a shiny, natural gloss; she was beautiful in Amanda's eyes even though she didn't wear that much make-up. How could she feel this sort of attraction towards somebody, who was, though only six years older than herself, a woman, still her employer and, of course, straight?
"Ma'am, I'm sorry," Amanda said to clear her mind, feeling her cheeks heating up again. "I—I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just saying goodbye before I leave—"
Miss Granger just smiled kindly, waving her off. "I'll be leaving in a few minutes, too," she said, looking over her shoulder to her desk as though searching for something. "We can leave together, if you won't mind waiting a second."
"No, it's fine. I'll wait."
"Then come in," said Miss Granger, gesturing towards an empty leather chair in front of her large oak desk. "Sorry for the mess. Pansy Parkinson-Goyle is being a pest, as per usual. She has no evidence in regards her husband's infidelity but wants, once again, to demand him. It's unbelievable." Miss Granger shook her head wearingly. "I'm preparing her pleading and hope to get it settled soon in front of the Court."
"Is there anything I can get you, ma'am?" Amanda offered. "I can make you a cup of coffee, or bring you apple spritzer, your favourite drink." She didn't realise that, once again when in the presence of this stunning woman, she had been clutching her purse in her arms like a little girl her stuffed toy.
"No need, thanks," Miss Granger said with a wave of her hand. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sorted some paper files into a folder. It almost seemed like she was trying to avoid looking into Amanda's eyes—not the first time today, she realised, and it's been like that for the last couple of weeks. Did she do anything wrong?
Miss Granger went on rather casually, "If I drink coffee, I won't be able to get any sleep tonight." She turned to Amanda again, briefly. "If I'm holding you back, Amanda, I'm really sorry—it's taking me longer than I thought. You must have some other plans now or—"
"No, no," said Amanda quickly, "I don't have any plans for tonight. I'll wait for you, Miss Granger."
"All right then." After a pause Miss Granger said, "Look at this one, Amanda." She moved from behind her desk to sit on the other small leather chair next to Amanda's. Miss Granger straightened her skirt and crossed her legs. Amanda pressed her purse tighter against her chest, her fists balled to keep them from shaking.
God, what's wrong with me? Get a grip on yourself, she chided herself.
Luckily, her boss had placed the folder on her lap, while her eyes scanned the paragraphs. After a short moment, she said, "This is the second time Draco Malfoy is filing for divorce. And he's only twenty-four!" She read: "'Spouse: Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy. Allegations: Unreasonable behaviour: spends too much, is hardly at home!' Good Merlin, Malfoy, still so whiny."
"Yeah, I went over the contents of his petition," Amanda said, looking at the client's folder on Miss Granger's lap, not without noting the heavenly scent of her skin. She sighed deeply, inhaling boss's scent, though she made it seem like she felt sympathy for the Petitioner's wife.
Amanda knew Mr. Draco Malfoy's biography. He was a Hogwarts alumnus, had attended school in the same year like Miss Granger, probably had the same subjects like her, that lucky bastard. He married right after graduation, had eloped with a Muggle-born, got divorced, re-married, now was filing for another divorce. "He probably just hasn't found the One yet," she thought aloud, realising that she must've sounded sappy because she, herself, believed in The One, believed in soulmates, and destiny.
Amanda's lips curved to an awkward smile; she dropped her head, her eyes focusing on that interesting water stain on the mahogany floor. She wondered why Miss Granger was so…drawn? to this particular client's file. It was the same folder she had been smiling at earlier. Maybe she was staring at his picture?
"He never really knew what he wanted," said Miss Granger, as though she knew him very well. Amanda could tell from the tone her boss used it was a subject better not pursued, so she didn't ask her about the relationship she had with this particular client.
"Is everything all right, ma'am? You have a strange look on your face."
"What look?"
"Like, you're sad or something," Amanda pointed out.
"I'm not, don't worry," Miss Granger tried to smile, but failed. "I'm sorry, it's really nothing." She stood up and put the folder back on her desk. "Shall we go now?"
"Yeah, sure." Amanda stood up, too. "Miss Granger?"
"Yes?" She turned around to retrieve her robe and black-leathered purse that were resting on a sideboard, in her other hand she held her keys.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
Miss Granger gave her a scrutinising look, hesitating before she said, "What is it?"
"I'm not sure, but I couldn't help but notice that…you work really hard, I mean, even on Saturdays when the office is closed," Amanda said, "You're always the last person to leave the office. Why? Why all that? I mean you're a beautiful and intelligent woman, but don't you go out on dates?"
"Why? Are you going to ask me out?" Miss Granger said facetiously, laughing softly behind her hand. Amanda's felt her face blanch, her heart must have stopped beating for several seconds, or so it felt. "I was kidding, Amanda! Well, I love my job, that's why."
"People trying to repress unbearable memories from their past, or anything unbearable altogether, usually tend to devote themselves on other activities, such as, mostly, unusual, hobbies, or work, to keep their minds off it," Amanda said, matter-of-fact.
Miss Granger lifted a corner of her lip, her eyebrows twitching.
An awkward silence fell between them, wherein Amanda stood observing every possible reaction of the other woman's behaviour, any change in her demeanour. Miss Granger looked thoughtfully back at her, as though contemplating whether to justify the statement or just ignore it. She placed her palm on her chest, then said, "Do you really think I'm beautiful? No one has ever said that to me before." That only meant she chose to ignore Amanda's statement. She raised an eyebrow at her boss, which Miss Granger simply ignored again.
"Thank you, I guess," Then, "Though I can't give you an extra bonus for flattery," she laughed, her eyes sparkling.
"Too bad," Amanda said with fake disappointment, playing along, "and here I am, thinking that buttering you up would help me to get promoted."
They both laughed together. Amanda held the door open for her boss, letting her past through the door. "You smell good," she said out loudly and flinched, quickly wishing her boss didn't hear.
"Sorry?"
"I mean, I like your perfume. What kind of brand is it?"
"Oh, it's Chanel Allure Sensuelle. Ron sent it to me from France," said Miss Granger.
"Oh, I see, your boyfriend is in France, that's why you don't date?" Amanda pressed on, hoping she didn't sound too curious.
Miss Granger smiled warmly and shook her head. "Ron is one of my two best friends since school. He's an Auror and has his training in Versailles."
So she must be single. Amanda bit her lips to keep herself from smiling too obviously.
"Do you want me to help you into your robe?" Amanda offered, taking her boss's robe and help her put it on.
"Oh, a real gentlewoman," mused Miss Granger. For the first time after several weeks, she looked directly into Amanda's eyes.
Amanda didn't know what she was doing, but her hand suddenly moved forward and brushed tenderly over her boss's cheek.
Miss Granger flinched under the touch, seeming to be holding her breath in half-shock, half-surprise.
"S—Sorry, you had some rouge on your cheek," Amanda lied, pulling her hand back quickly before it did funny things again.
"I'm not even wearing rouge," Miss Granger said slyly, stroking her cheek Amanda's hand had touched.
After a rather excruciating silence, Miss Granger nodded once as though she had just realised something, she asked all of a sudden, looking solemn,
"If you don't have any plans for tonight, would you like to have dinner with me? There's something I'd like to talk with you about."