(Another double update, this and the previous chapter)
Narcissa got home that night and gathered the mail from the doorway. "Andi? Some post came," she called, sorting it as she walked to the living room. There was a letter from one of Andromeda's clubs with messages like We miss you written all over the outside in various people's handwriting. Narcissa didn't know quite what to make of it. How long could she have even been absent? Perhaps Andromeda had stopped attending because they were needy.
"How was work?" Andromeda asked, accepting the letter and pocketing it, tight-faced.
"It was strange." Narcissa poured herself a glass of wine and sat down with her sister. "Hermione is being almost... docile. I'm sick of it already. Where is the woman I hired?"
"You mean the woman you've been complaining to me about for months because she doesn't respect your position enough?"
"Yes―you don't understand, it's bizarre! I barely did anything, just a bit of flirting."
"Flirting?" Andromeda raised her eyebrows.
"But that was merely revenge against her revenge against my comment about trollish leg hair."
"Wait, you said that? Out loud? To her face?" Andromeda asked, aghast.
"You don't have to sound so critical. At the time, I didn't realize it was that bad."
"Our dear mother used to say things like that. Troll hair, posture like a house elf, smile politely and banish that banshee face..."
"I'd forgotten."
Andromeda groaned, "Why don't you ever stop to think where your attitudes come from?"
"I do!" Narcissa snapped. "I have been trying and it would be nice if you'd acknowledge it sometimes. You got out early. I spent decades under her thumb. And as I said, I didn't know it would upset her so much. She's a headstrong Gryffindor who doesn't give a damn what people think."
"But she clearly gives a damn about your opinion. Why?"
"Perhaps because I'm a fashion icon," Narcissa said with a shrug. "Everyone seeks my opinion."
"Hermione doesn't care about fashion," Andromeda said with a laugh. "Think about it. Why should it matter whether you find her attractive or not?"
Narcissa shook her head, refusing to guess what Andromeda was getting at.
"Maybe Hermione wants you to find her attractive because she's attracted to you."
"Preposterous. She would never want someone like me. And besides, I'm her boss and much older. I shouldn't even be thinking of her that way."
"Now that's interesting. I didn't say a word about you thinking of her."
"I don't."
"Mhm." Andromeda slid a newspaper over to her and pointed to one paragraph.
Granger and Black seem to be closer than ever. The two were spotted looking cosy together at the Edinburgh show last night. Does this mean wizards have no chance with Granger? When asked for comment on her sexuality, ex-boyfriend Viktor Krum of quidditch fame said only, "What Hermoninny [sic] does is not for me to speak of. She is very nice girl." Whatever the case, she clearly likes witches. Granger and Black's apparent physical chemistry made one witness claim, "Anyone with half an eyeball can see they're [having sexual relations]."
"We are not," Narcissa declared, feeling a flush spreading at the very idea.
"But you wish you were," Andromeda whispered in a sing-song voice, smirking and finding her page in whatever book she'd been reading before Narcissa arrived.
"I do not." Narcissa stood up, suddenly very nervous about Hermione bringing the Scroll tonight if this was the kind of talk Andromeda would bring up. She would simply have to send Hermione home. "I'm going back to the office to do more work."
Narcissa approached her office, mystified by the sound of a woman's voice coming from within. Did Hermione not warn off whoever would dare linger in her office when she wasn't present?
As she drew closer, she recognized the voice. Of course. It was Hermione. No one else would be bold or foolish enough.
"Not the red one, the blue one. Are you incompetent?" Hermione mimicked. "Obviously the light blue one. No, the even lighter blue one."
Narcissa could have left without saying a word. Could have berated her and told her to leave. Instead, she ventured closer out of shock, or intrigue.
"And bring me a glass of water with 3.5 ice cubes," Hermione went on.
What would happen, Narcissa wondered, if she simply... played along? With Andromeda's comments still echoing in her ears, she made up her mind.
"Narcissa!" Hermione shrieked, scared stiff. "I was―I was just waiting for the Scroll, um..."
Wordlessly, Narcissa offered her a glass with exactly three and a half ice cubes, raised one eyebrow, and waited to see what Hermione would do.
Hermione's mouth fell open in surprise.
They watched each other, wary, testing the air.
Seconds ticked by in total silence until Hermione whispered, "Drink it."
Narcissa brought the glass to her lips slowly, deliberately, without looking away. Her hand trembled in a way that was foreign to her. She drank it down, quenching a sudden thirst and doing as Hermione said. She stepped closer and set the glass on her desk, where Hermione's eyes fixated on it before rising again. Narcissa wasn't sure if she would follow any further orders, but she was painfully curious about what Hermione would ask of her.
She had no doubt of what most wizards would want her to do for them. If Hermione told her to kneel, this surreal moment would be broken. But if Hermione gave her no further orders, the moment would vanish anyway.
"Scold me," Hermione said.
Narcissa tilted her head, not really understanding.
Hermione clarified, "Sit on your desk, cross your legs, and scold me for being in your office after hours."
Smirking now, Narcissa obliged. The boss persona came easily to her; she could work with this. She perched on the edge, leaning slightly closer than would be entirely appropriate for work. "Tsk tsk. What are you doing skulking about in my office? If you're doing something you aren't supposed to, I will personally ensure you feel the consequences."
"I'm definitely not supposed to be doing this," Hermione mumbled, head falling back against the headrest as she slouched in the chair.
Narcissa chose not to say anything, enjoying the dim light casting shadows on the tendons of her assistant's neck.
"Now touch me," Hermione dared to say, trying her hand at an authoritative tone.
The tone needed work, but it was working for Narcissa. Quite well, in fact. She leaned closer, gesturing across Hermione's whole body and watching the shiver that followed. Those shivers were apparently not fear. "Where precisely?"
"Touch me, and scold me for getting so wet."
Narcissa drew in a sharp breath. This was about to cross some invisible line. She had thought desire would be inappropriate and unwelcome, but it was allowed. What Hermione wanted was so plainly stated, so direct. There was no decision to make, nor any potential for an error of judgment. It was... a relief. She leaned closer still and traced her fingers along Hermione's hemline―the navy skirt, which she had indeed changed into―following the soft skin up her leg.
"It's not the chair, right?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "The chair isn't jinxed to make everyone obey whoever sits here?"
"There's no jinx," Narcissa said, bemused. "Rest assured, I'm obeying you, doing this..." Her hand slipped further between those full thighs until she reached the place she sought. "...because I want to." Narcissa pressed her fingers against Hermione's core and let out a pleased hum at what she found there. "Miss Granger, how dare you get absolutely sopping while seated at my desk."
"Ah!" Hermione's back arched and her hips canted to get more contact. "You'd better throw me on your desk and absolutely rail me, then. As the fitting consequence of my actions."
"Quite fitting."
A door banged shut down the hall. Hermione leaped up from the chair and stood beside Narcissa, both looking down at the desk and ad libbing nonsense about the first papers they found there.
A young woman from the art department came in. "Hey, Hermione―oh! Miss Black, I didn't expect you to be here tonight. The Scroll is ready."
Narcissa accepted it with the hand that was not still slick with Hermione's arousal while Hermione bit her lip and covered a grin. "Goodnight."
"G'night!" The woman left, and it was just the two of them again.
The Scroll suddenly felt very heavy. All the decisions to make, resting on her shoulders. Narcissa set it down, irritated that this interruption had ruined what would have been a very welcome respite.
"Close the door and lock it?" Hermione said, voice rising like a question and a command in one. She shifted in place, legs rubbing together.
Just like that the weight lifted again from Narcissa's shoulders. She flicked her wand at the door, not wanting to waste time crossing the room. "So you're not leaving as well? You've simply been waiting for me to carry out your last command?"
Hermione nodded cheekily as Narcissa pushed her on the wooden desk that had never held such a beauty in all the magazine pages ever littered across it. Narcissa ordinarily would have discarded such a thought but now she let it loose, taking in the sight of Hermione's body awaiting her touch, rucking up the navy skirt and pushing aside the gusset of her undergarments.
"I thought the tension was all in my head until last night," Hermione confessed. "I can't believe you're actually doing this. I've imagined you so many times―"
"Imagined this? My fingers against you?"
"Yes. Against me, inside me. No idea why, since I can't stand you."
Narcissa huffed and taunted, "Well, you certainly won't be able to stand when I'm finished with you." She thrusted experimentally, enjoying how Hermione groaned and gripped her arms in encouragement. "Absolutely rail, I believe you said?"
Hermione could barely catch her breath but managed to say, "Don't make me repeat myself."
With a laugh, Narcissa relaxed into the lust that she had perhaps been somewhat suppressing. She could admit it to herself now, how she had wanted Hermione from the first day she came to the office. How much it drove her mad when Hermione defied her. What a turn-on it was when Hermione showed how capable she was of scheming and turning the tables.
"Press with your thumb―yes, like that."
"I hope you know I'm still in charge during the workday. This changes nothing," Narcissa growled in her ear.
Hermione was too far gone to string a sentence together, saying only, "Mhm!" She tightened and gasped a few times before going silent, then all but melted onto the desk.
Narcissa stayed where she was, pleased as the cat that got the canary.
"Merlin, is this what life is always like for you?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
"Always having people pleasure me on my desk?" Narcissa laughed.
"I mean this feeling... when you do as I say."
Narcissa inclined her head, understanding now. "Mm. The novelty fades, but yes."
"I think I like it."
"I think this temporary power is going to your head," Narcissa retorted, straightening Hermione's clothes for her and stepping back. "Remember tomorrow what I said about the workday."
"Yes," Hermione agreed with a curious look. "You must be wound up. Don't you want me to return the favor?"
"No need," Narcissa answered, to both their surprise. Something about the exchange had satisfied her plenty. "Perhaps on a future occasion, though I know this may have been a once-off."
"Maybe we got it out of our systems," Hermione agreed.
"Yes, maybe we did."
"Pansy, Érmioni." If the latter name carried a different tone after last week, it surely shouldn't be very noticeable.
When both of her assistants hurried in, Narcissa told them, "The founder of Versace is arriving within the hour. She is an esteemed guest and a dear colleague, so I expect both of you to be on your best behavior. When we sit down, bring tea for me and kykeon for her. If she addresses you, avert your eyes. Whatever you do, do not make eye contact. Understood?"
"Yes, Narcissa," Pansy replied.
Hermione scrunched up her face with the question why no doubt trying to burst out of her, but didn't ask. At least their little... liaison hadn't made her revert to that bad habit.
Narcissa returned to her work, though the chat between her departing assistants distracted her a bit.
"Versace, wow. Even muggles have heard of that," Hermione said.
"Great, just great," Pansy said, sounding panicked. "A legend is coming any minute and we have to figure out what in Salazar's name key-cone is."
"Calm down," Hermione replied. "Kykeon is an ancient Greek drink. Homer mentioned it. Honestly, don't you read?"
"Don't you do anything besides reading?" Pansy retorted. "Whatever. Go find whatever store sells weird old-timey drinks. I'll get Narcissa's tea and anything they might need for the meeting."
Narcissa smiled to herself, pleased that they had learned to be a team, no matter how begrudgingly.
About twenty minutes later, the lift chimed and a woman of otherworldly beauty came down the hall. She wore a light, flowing tunic and a stylish turban covering her head, though a few snakes had wriggled free, tasting the air. Pansy stared down at the floor in terror. Narcissa slipped on a large pair of muggle sunglasses.
"Medusa, you look amazing, darling," Narcissa greeted her warmly, kissing her cheeks. "Like you haven't aged a day."
Medusa laughed. "As do you! It's been too long. You should visit New York more often. Anna sends her regards."
"Please return the sentiment. Just how much time do you spend with Ms. Wintour? I've heard muggles are starting to wonder why she wears sunglasses indoors."
"Let them speculate. Any promising new designers?"
They started chatting and sat down together on a small couch off to one side of the office suite. After five minutes with no sign of her assistants, Narcissa finally heard scuffling outside.
"Stop, your hands are shaking," Hermione whispered. "I'll bring their drinks."
"Okay, but d-don't look at her," Pansy replied.
"I don't care how important she is. She can't possibly be more intimidating than Narcissa used to be. I've got this. Give me the tea."
"A brave one," Medusa said quietly to Narcissa.
"My Gryffindor," Narcissa replied with more fondness than she intended.
Hermione came in, carrying a tray with a tea set and a pretty little hand-thrown pottery cup. "I have your drinks," she said, faltering in surprise when she saw the snakes writhing at the edges of Medusa's turban. "Oh!"
"Medusa Versace," she introduced herself.
Hermione recovered quickly, shaking her hand with an excited smile. "Really? It's an honor to meet―"
Medusa gasped and drew back as Hermione's entire body turned to stone, hand still outstretched. She glared at Narcissa. "Didn't you warn her not to look me in the eye?"
"I warned both of my assistants explicitly," Narcissa defended herself. "It's not my fault this one seems to have a penchant for petrification."
"This isn't the first time?"
"According to my son, Érmioni got turned to stone by a basilisk in second year," Narcissa said with a laugh. "Let's not turn her back just yet. It seems she needs a reminder of the importance of following my orders at work."
"You assume there's a way to turn her back?" Medusa asked.
Narcissa sat up straight, feeling an icy fist of fear tightening in her gut. "Isn't there?"
Medusa shrugged and took a sip of her drink.
Narcissa stood too quickly, light-headed. Her hand trembled as she touched Hermione's arm. The stone was cold and hard, unresponsive to her touch. "Salazar smite me. You stubborn, stupid witch. What have you done?" She turned to Medusa, trying not to let desperation creep into her voice. "Surely there's a way!"
Medusa finally smiled. "Relax, of course there's a way."
Narcissa gripped the armrest and sat back down. "Bitch."
"The original," Medusa said smugly.
"It's a shame you didn't let Perseus kill you."
"He got all the glory anyway, the lying bastard. So tell me, why so worried about your assistant?"
"I'm worried about my galleons," Narcissa said, indignant. "Workplace injury lawsuits are expensive."
"When she walked in, your entire body turned like a sunflower following Helios' chariot across the sky."
"Don't be absurd," Narcissa denied, pressing a hand to her chest where a sudden pain radiated. "She can't stand me, you know."
"I know she's not just an assistant."
"Let's go ahead and discuss your article for our next issue."
About an hour later, Medusa restored Hermione's natural state with a chaste kiss to the lips. Narcissa clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palm.
Hermione stared in shock as the transformation traveled through her body and down her arm, turning the stone back to flesh. Then she grimaced and groaned, "Why does this always happen to me?"
Narcissa grinned wickedly. "Turn your head to the side, Érmioni."
"Why? Is something else wrong?" Hermione wondered, though she complied.
Narcissa pretended to admire her for a moment. "Very nice profile. Statuesque, I'd say."
Hermione scowled at her so hard that Narcissa could almost hear the internal cursing.
Medusa chuckled. "I admire your gall. Few dare to look me in the eye."
Curiosity overriding her indignation, Hermione asked, "So you can turn people to stone and back again? I thought Athena's punishment only worked one way."
"Don't believe every myth you hear," Medusa replied with a wink. "Athena protected me from assault in her temple and granted me the ability as a gift for self defense. If I choose, I can turn anyone back with a simple kiss."
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and she blushed, looking altogether too enamored.
"It's getting rather late," Narcissa said, standing up. "I wouldn't want to take up all of your time."
Medusa looked startled, then too knowing. "I'll take my leave so your assistant can give you her full attention." Hermione blushed.
Narcissa glared. "What exactly are you implying?"
"Narcissa darling, who are you trying to fool? It's in the papers. I know you two are dating."
"Dating, right," Hermione agreed.
"Ah, yes." Narcissa relaxed. "We're dating."
"Right," Medusa said, brow furrowing. "There seems to be more than meets the eye here, but it really is late and I've traveled far. We can talk more soon. Stay in touch!"
After shooting a few more suspicious looks with her warm farewells, Medusa departed. Hermione flashed a guilty smile at Narcissa before leaving to get back to her own desk.
"Why were you in there for so long?!" Pansy exclaimed. "Man the desks; I have to pee!"
"I got turned to stone," Hermione said.
"Salazar's snake," Pansy muttered. "But Narcissa is fine? Bah, she's probably immune because her heart is already made of stone."
Narcissa froze with her quill poised to write. The accusation seeped into her chest and made her heart feel indeed a bit like stone. She tuned out Hermione's rambling about the mirrored sunglasses and kept working.