It was already late afternoon when Hermione finally arrived at her Ministry office on Saturday. Her conversation with Harry had taken much longer than she would have thought, but she had not wanted to rush him. If Harry had finally come to terms with acknowledging the weight of everything that he had been through, she wanted to be there for him.

As she had expected it, the Ministry was particularly empty. Since the Ministry was not hosting any reception over the weekend, most employees were currently spending quality time with their children. The Research Committee had always been a bit of an exception though, which meant that it was not surprising for Mrs Penrose and Bethany to be in today.

"Miss Granger, I am only hearing marvellous things about your clinic project, congratulations! I must say that I was moderately sceptical at first, but you proved us wrong." Mrs Penrose greeted her as she crossed the hall.

"Thank you very much Mrs Penrose. It would not have been possible without your support."

"Mrs Bones is a very persuasive witch. She could have weaselled that support out of me no matter what I thought of it ... Tell me, though, is it true that Narcissa Malfoy is in therapy at your clinic? I heard rumours ..." she added, lowering her voice, and throwing cautious looks over her shoulder.

Hermione fought hard not to roll her eyes at Mrs Penrose. She was her superior, after all. Why on Earth was everyone so hung up on Narcissa? Was it because she was one of the few people who had been close to You-Know-Who and was still walking freely today? She felt a rush of compassion towards Draco and Narcissa dash over her. How was one supposed to change, when everyone had their eyes on them and was waiting for them to make their next mistake?

"As you probably know, I cannot disclose whether Miss Black is one of our patients." She curtly answered.

"Right, right, Black, no more Malfoy. Ugly story, that one. For a woman to send her husband to Azkaban. He did deserve it – apparently – but still. One would think that marriage meant more to those people." Mrs Penrose noted meditatively.

"You know how pureblood marriages go; you marry a name, not a person." Hermione answered, struggling to hide her annoyance.

"That is true ..." Her boss agreed, and Hermione took her prolonged silence as a cue to walk on and leave her to her thoughts. A couple feet further, she met Bethany, who, thank God, did not ask her anything about the clinic, but only told her how much she had appreciated Hermione's notes on her latest draft.

When she finally closed her office door behind herself and sat down at her desk, Hermione could not help throwing a saddened look at Anselma's empty desk. She had been busy all week, but now her mentor's absence was starting to weight on her. She wished the older witch were there, as she always was on weekends. She probably would not even have said anything to her, pursuing her work in silence. Hermione loved sharing an office with her. Her unwavering motivation was a true inspiration. She sighed and turned to her own desk, where she found a letter waiting for her.

Dear Dc. Granger,

I hope it's ok for me to write you here.

My mates would judge me if they saw that I was writing to the clinic.

The schoolyear's just started, but it feels weird not to talk to you. Is there a way we could do sessions when I'm at Hogwarts? Pr. Longbottom said he would lend me the Floo in his office to call you. He says hi, by the way. Are there people who don't know you?

Yours,

Joy

Hermione smiled at the crumbled parchment. She should have visited Neville last time she went to Hogsmeade to meet Minerva. She had thought about teaching for some time before joining Anselma's research team. Neville must have so much to tell her about how Hogwarts was doing now. She promised herself she would owl him when she went home.

Once she had answered Joy, Hermione could finally go back to her paperwork. The more patients she had, the longer this part took. She had to report to Mrs Penrose and Kingsley at least once a month, to ascertain the viability of the clinic – and that was only the clinic related work. Anselma and she had started this project as a part of their research on war-induced trauma. Anselma had started her research decades ago, after the first wizarding war, taking over after her own mentor, who had been working on the same subject after Grindelwald's attempt to take power.

Hermione did not even realize that she had worked through the entire night until a cleaner suddenly entered her office. The young man apologized profusely, not expecting to see anyone this early in the morning, and she took it as a sign that she had worked enough for today. She reassured the young man, and she cleaned up her desk to go home.

By the time Sunday ended, Hermione was exhausted. She had not gotten any sleep since her night with Narcissa – which had been quite short –, and, after she had written to Neville, she had spent most of her day cleaning her house. Ginny invited her over for dinner, but she had to politely decline. Before the sun had even set, she was asleep on her couch.

In a way, Hermione was glad to be back in the clinic on Tuesday. Since Anselma had left, every time she was at the Ministry, she would work until late in the evening, not seeing time go by. She could not help feeling as if she had to work for the two of them. Moreover, Anselma was usually the one who forced them out of their office, and no one was waiting for her at home anyway.

She would have been lying, if she had said that she was not expecting news from Narcissa. Sure, they had never stated that they were in any sort of committed relationship, but it still seemed bizarre not to hear from her after spending the night together. She would probably see her on Friday, but it would not be the best place to discuss personal matters.

"You could also be the one to write her" a voice suddenly suggested.

Hermione abruptly turned on her heels to face Luna.

"You have been thinking out loud" the blonde explained as she lazily browsed through the latest edition of the Quibbler. It was lunch break, but Hermione had not heard her friend come in.

"But what could I possibly write?"

"That she was a great shag and that you would like to do that again?" Luna proposed without even looking up from her magazine.

"Luna!" Hermione blushed "Why would you even …"

"You can still see the hickey on your neck. I can fix it if you want." She proposed in her airy voice.

"Merlin … I had completely forgotten about that … The people at the Ministry … I don't even want to know what they thought …"

"I am sure that they were happy for you."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend, but she did not seem to notice. Luna had a point though. Why did she feel like Narcissa had to be the one writing? Because she had initiated their dinner? There were no such rules. Yet she did feel like she would be giving off too much if she were the one to write.

"Did you know that Gulping Plimpies have a very short time memory?" Luna suddenly asked.

"Gulping … ?"

"They forget things and people very fast. That is why, after they mate, the partners never leave each other's side, because they know that they will forget about each other if they do. Which means that when a Gulping Plimpy does leave his partner, they do not wish to see them again." She went on, ignoring Hermione sceptical look.

The brunette was about to refute the blonde's information when she noticed the very faint smile on her lips. Was it possible that Luna had been doing this the whole time? Had she been making creatures up to convey a subtler message?

"Thank you" She simply said, and Luna nodded.

Before she met Mrs Brown for their afternoon appointment – Hermione had changed her schedule so that Narcissa and Mrs Brown's paths would no longer cross – she wrote Narcissa a short note. Who cared about pride, when said pride could lead to Narcissa forgetting all about her?

The sun was slowly setting on London as Hermione found back to the breakroom after her last appointment. Luna had already left, and the clinic was entirely silent. She looked around the breakroom, detailed the sofa and the two armchairs Anselma and her had picked together, the coffee table, the bookshelves covering the walls, the small kitchen she was leaning against. They had opened the clinic only three months ago, yet she already felt at home between those walls.

She was walking towards the bookshelves to examine the volumes that Anselma had chosen to expose, when she suddenly heard the elevator doors opening in the main hall. She rushed to the doorframe to greet the new customer.

"Good evening, I am sorry we are clo … Oh!" she gasped, as she saw who had just arrived.

Narcissa stepped out of the elevator, wearing black flare trousers, a green strappy silk top and very high stilettos that rang through the empty hall. She took off her sunglasses in a swift motion and perched them on the top of her head, pushing some wavy locks out of her face. Her lips were painted red, and her lids bore a bold liner that amplified the size of her blue orbs. As so often, she looked to die for. Hermione could not help gulping as she realized she was wearing the same Muggle jeans trainers and blue shirt she had been wearing the day then went out for lunch.

"Good evening to you to." Narcissa beamed at her, towering over the younger witch, looking down at her from her high heels.

"I … You … Do you want some tea?" Hermione offered, as she walked back into the breakroom in order to let the blonde witch in.

"Don't you have anything stronger?" Narcissa asked as she paced through the room, admiring the details Hermione had examined just before.

"Err …" Hermione thought as she opened the small refrigerator "We only have Muggle beer; Anselma likes it. She has me get some when I visit my parents. But I don't think you would …"

"It will do" Narcissa cut in, turning on her heels to smile at Hermione. She seemed in an oddly good mood tonight. Not that Hermione was complaining, but it was rather unsettling to see her smiling so much. Not to mention seeing her drink Muggle beer, of all things.

Hermione had just handed her the bottle she had uncapped. The blonde was perched on an armrest, her purse lying on the coffee table. She thanked her, and wrapped her red lips around the round opening before Hermione could offer her a glass. Narcissa threw her head back as she drank, and a cold drop of condensation left the bottle to roll down her neck, over her collarbones, down her chest, before it disappeared into her cleavage. The Gryffindor could not help the aroused shiver that ran through her spine.

"It does not taste that bad. Belgium does have its strengths." Narcissa noted before she put the bottle aside on the coffee table. "You wanted to see me?" she added after a moment.

"Well, err, yes." Hermione started. She suddenly felt very self-conscious about her body. She did not know what to do with her legs, and her arms seemed oddly long. She finally decided to sit on the kitchen counter, for any step closer to Narcissa would have increased her nervousness. "So, I had a really good time Friday." She went on, her heart stammering in her chest "And Luna said something about Gulping Plimpies, and how they are quick to forget people …"

"Gulping Plimpies?" Narcissa noted, unsettled, before she took another sip of her beer.

"Yeah, they are a thing, apparently" Hermione answered, while nervously peeling the label off her own bottle "So, she said they were quick to forget. And it had me thinking that … err … I would not like for you to forget me."

"Well, I am not that old, Hermione. We saw each other only a couple of days ago." Narcissa considered, sounding slightly offended. Hermione could not help feeling as if the Slytherin was playing her.

"That's not what I meant … I just … I don't know … It was probably stupid … I just wanted to make sure you knew that I was still interested. I don't do one-night stands." She finally explained.

Narcissa stayed silent for a very long time. She took another sip of beer, crossed and uncrossed her legs, only to cross them again the other way around. But she did not say a word. When Hermione thought that she might just die of utter embarrassment, the blonde suddenly stood up and walked towards her. The blood was rushing through her veins, burning any sensible thought to the ground, like a wildfire. Narcissa stopped as she had reached the sofa closest to Hermione, and she rested against its back.

"As for me, I am quite experienced in the art of the one-night stand, as you call it."

Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach. Of course. Why would Narcissa Black ever want some sort of relationship with her? There were hundreds of witches and wizards ready to sleep with her if she simply asked. Why would she bother staying with a boring bookworm?

"However" Narcissa went on, and Hermione could not help hoping against hope "I am willing to make an exception."

The Gryffindor suddenly felt feather-light, her mind blanker than it had ever been. A relieved smile made its way on her face, and she walked over to the older witch without thinking. She simply jumped off the counter and fell into the blonde's arms.

"Oh, thank God!"

Narcissa chuckled as she let the brunette into her arms, gently rubbing the small of her back.

"How silly your brilliant brain can sometimes be" she mocked affectionately as Hermione smelled in the scent of her hair.

"You do that to me" Hermione argued, while pulling out of their hug to look into the blonde's bright eyes.

"Do I?" Narcissa wondered, before taking the glasses off her hair and leaning off the couch to hold her body closer to Hermione's. Before the brunette could say anything, the blonde ran a finger over her neck, rubbing over the barely-there hickey. "You did not heal it" she noted appreciatively.

"I forgot" Hermione claimed.

"Or did you maybe like the idea of people wondering how it got there?" Narcissa guessed, an evil grin stretching her lips. She walked forward, forcing Hermione to go backwards until she was backed against the kitchen counter. Pathetic, was the only word that came to her mind, as Hermione realized that she was already wet.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Narcissa repeated, before suddenly dipping into Hermione's neck and placing her lips against the exact spot where she had marked her before. Hermione shivered and moaned as sharp teeth pierced through her flesh and a hot tongue lapped her blood. Then the blonde's head was level with hers once more, and she seemed particularly proud of the effect she was having on the younger witch.

"Should we head out for dinner? All the good places will be ..." Narcissa's playful jeer was cut short by Hermione's lips crushing against hers. Narcissa smiled into their kiss and grabbed the brunette's thighs to sit her back onto the counter.

"That's what I thought."

So that was kind of a transition/quiet chapter.

Things are gonna shake up a bit in the next one.

Still enjoying writing this. Hope you still enjoy reading this.