Chapter 3 – Don't Flirt With Your Boss

ONE MONTH PREVIOUSLY

"Just shut up, Hermione. We're having a pretty good time tonight."

"Why, of all places, did we have to come here?"

Hermione didn't usually whine and grumble when she was irritated, but she couldn't help herself. It had to have been an obnoxious habit she picked up from Ron while they were still together. After all, despite disciplinary efforts, Hermione always secretly sought to make things easier for him when he whined like a baby. She had gradually replaced his mother, which suited him well, but Hermione had not expected such a relationship. Because, in actuality, she was the one who desired to be pampered at times.

Ginny, on the other hand, was unmoved by her complaint. She was determined to make Hermione forget about work, meetings, stress, and all the responsibilities for just one night. And, because Ginny was rarely in town due to her Quidditch training, Hermione had only grudgingly consented to accompany her.

The streets were still wet from the pouring rains hours ago. Hermione was walking in uncomfortably tight pumps that pained her heels like death. She was sure to catch sight of new blisters when she got home. As there were barely streetlights, her eyes had only just acclimated to the darkness of the alleyway where they had just turned. As a result, she felt irritated when she couldn't see where she was stepping. Using her wand to illuminate the way would be risky in this district where Muggles were living, so she just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. A foul odour wafted towards her face, and she wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out whence it came from while also wondering where Ginny was taking her.

She'd rather stay at home and go over her manuscript of her interview with a client and prepare the pleading for the court—at least it was something productive—than pace along this deserted, murky passage where they could easily run into a group of drunken, unruly men who would most likely harass them, two young women who got lost here. Hermione instinctively clutched her wand beneath her trench coat, terrified. Although Muggle men, even in majority, stood little chance against two witches who could do magic, Hermione was concerned. It was one thing to battle Death Eaters and Voldemort, but quite another to do so against defenceless Muggles.

Ginny smiled as she looked over her shoulder when she noticed the silence. "Don't look like that, Hermione. We're almost there," she said, misinterpreting Hermione's expression.

Hermione grimaced and narrowed her eyes at Ginny. "What are we doing here? Is this even still London? Why did we have to leave the restaurant so early? I didn't even get through my dessert," she groaned under her breath as she strained to match her best friend's pace and her endurance as a Quidditch player.

"Dessert? You were preparing your pleading." Ginny shook her head in what seemed like disappointment. "Do me a favour and don't keep it going where we're headed."

"Where are we heading?"

Ginny chuckled as she slowed her pace to go alongside Hermione. "You don't get out very much, do you? So, you've never been here before? We've arrived. Hell's Nightclub."

Hermione blinked a few times as she followed Ginny's gaze, grimacing at what she saw.

"Hell's what?"

She stared up the rotting, rundown structure that resembled an abandoned factory, with broken glasses, huge containers, and a gate that was locked with robust 10 mm steel chain. There were empty boxes heaped on either side of the gate. There were also forklifts coated in a heavy coating of dust, implying that this building had not been used for decades for what it once was. The gate was covered in graffiti, and there was a painting covering the whole wall from top to bottom, depicting what Muggles considered to be hell: a bottomless pit, a place where fire never dies.

The place itself, as well as the entire evening, was hell for Hermione. But...who was she to pass judgement? This region was inhabited by people. Or perhaps her attitude was just the result of a long day, her friend who had insisted on taking her out tonight, her aching feet, and the gloomy weather. Oh, and not to mention that she had her 'time of the month'. But even that didn't excuse her from this trip. Ginny had persuaded her that they weren't going swimming after all.

"Let's put it behind us then," Hermione groaned. She marched ahead toward the gate, but how was she to remove the steel chain without magic? Until she felt a pull on her arm, causing her to stagger backward. Ginny was looking perplexed at her.

"What?"

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, gazing at her as if she were insane.

Something was odd about the place, which she might have noticed sooner if she hadn't been secretly plotting a plan to escape out of here without Ginny noticing. Her friend, without a doubt, was a fearless witch who could protect herself.

However, this place was supposed to be a nightclub, but there was no music playing inside, and there were no people to be seen or heard. Hermione wasn't looking forward to loud music and random conversation with strangers that would simply irritate her eardrums and worsen her headache, but there should at least be some music coming from someplace.

It was quiet.

She cast a wary glance at Ginny, who swiftly checked about to confirm they were alone, pulled her wand, and tapped it three times on the wall. So, the location was concealed by magic, what else?

There was no movement. Even when Ginny placed her wand aside and waited. She looked attentively at the graffiti painting on the wall.

"Fantastic artwork, isn't it?" Ginny asked as she stepped back.

"Hell, yeah!" Hermione muttered, unimpressed. She had never been a fan of art.

"Hell, yeah?" Ginny repeated, making a funny expression. "Since when do you say that?"

Finally, something moved. The graffiti-fire in hell sprang to life—literally—though there was no heat, and a secret passage appeared.

Ginny took Hermione's hand in hers and tugged her forward. At the end of the passage, there was light in the shape of a doorframe. There was also music now, pounding slightly in the distance, becoming louder as they got closer.

Ginny pushed the door open.

Hermione had never gone to clubs or bars before, or even had a favourite party venue, and had never been interested in checking them out, even as a teenager. She wasn't the sort of person who went to bars and had drinks, to flirt with random men. And the pubs in Hogsmeade and the infrequent excursions to The Leaky Cauldron with her best friends as teenagers didn't really count.

But what she was witnessing now was incredible.

The hall was dimly lighted and had high ceilings and burgundy and black walls. There were neon lights in all sorts of colours and shapes, and signs everywhere. There were acrobatic dancers performing from the ceiling. The dancefloor in front of her was really packed. The next thing Hermione's eyes fell upon was the massive screen on the right, there on the wall, that showed the dancing people at it, from all angles, including customers who had just entered, like her and Ginny. She shuddered as she watched herself in closeup displayed on the screen for a few minutes and ran a hand self-consciously over the back of her unkempt hair. She definitely shouldn't have been here in the first place.

The music was loud but not unpleasant; it had a steady beat that filled the entire room. People were dancing on elevated platforms or on the dancefloor, their hands in the air, bouncing and swaying to the music.

"Let's go grab some drinks," Ginny shouted above the music, taking Hermione's hand once again. They went up to the counter and sat on the barstools. Almost immediately, the bartender waved to them.

"Two Phoenix shots!" Ginny mouthed, giving her orders by forming an 'O' with her thumb and index finger. With her other hand she indicated the amount.

"No, ginger ale for me," Hermione corrected her. "No strong drinks for me, and I don't want to become too intoxicated tonight."

The bartender, a tall man with dark hair slicked back and dressed in a black vest over a white shirt and black jeans, called out their drinks. He winked at Ginny and smiled mischievously at Hermione.

"You like them soft, don't you?" He switched his gaze away from her and onto Ginny, as if implying something dirty.

Hermione blinked in confusion. "Come again?"

"Aaron, leave her alone. She's only a friend, and for Merlin's sake, I'm engaged to Harry," Ginny stated with a sigh and a roll of the eyes. She shoved Hermione's ginger ale in her direction and scowled at Aaron. "It was already difficult to bring her here."

Aaron chuckled and walked away, but not before saying over his shoulder, "You never know what will be," with that serious expression that made Ginny giggle and Hermione uneasy.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked.

"Just ignore him." Ginny took a sip from her Phoenix shot, then downed it with one gulp as she watched the dancing people.

After a silent moment of scanning the place, Hermione spoke again, "You're here often," she ventured.

"Yeah. Before, nearly every other weekend," Ginny said as she placed her pint glass on the counter. "I visited here once with Luna, but our work schedules constantly overlapped. When my teammates are in town, we spend a lot of time here as well. But they're so crazy that I can't keep up with them, especially since I'd just end up hurting Harry," she confessed, her face flushed.

Hermione was tempted to prod but refrained from it. If there was something, Ginny would have told her.

"I see," Hermione remarked, raising an eyebrow. "How did you discover this place?" she wondered as she removed her trench coat. She placed it on the vacant barstool beside her and placed her handbag on her lap. She realised, far too late, that she was overdressed for the occasion. When Ginny had abducted Hermione from her workplace, she didn't allow her time to change her clothes. So, Hermione removed her black blazer, displaying her purple V-neck top. At the very least, it appeared to be fairly suitable, given that the other women were dressed similarly.

"Lavender, Padma, and Parvati brought me here," Ginny stated nonchalantly, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. She, too, shook off her cloak. Ginny, on the other hand, was dressed like the others, in a black tank top and tight trousers. Despite being just two years Hermione's junior, Ginny seemed to blend in better with the rest of the scene, and Hermione suddenly felt ancient as she watched her own life pass her by. She was just twenty-five years old, nearly twenty-six, and already felt like a middle-aged lady! She needed a change, there was no doubt about that.

"I had no idea the Patil twins went to places like this," Hermione commented sharply, disregarding her own self-pity.

"You sound astonished, Hermione," Ginny replied, her brow furrowed. "After all, this isn't a brothel or a strip club, which, by the way, wouldn't be a horrible thing either. Upper-class wizards and witches, as well as celebrities, gather here to celebrate. Also, some Muggles and Squibs do come here, too. You just need the right connection. It's a nice place for everyone. In any case, get yourself ready—" Ginny paused to down her second shot. Then, as she took two silver tickets from her cloak pocket and fanned her face with them, smiling smugly she said,

"We're heading to the VIP lounge."

*,*,*

They passed through the massive curtains that divided the main area from the VIP lounge. Ginny's choice of lounge was a small little area, gloomy and acceptable, with a railing leading to the main room, from which they had a fantastic view of the whole dance floor. The other VIP lounges seemed occupied by groups of people, their own music playing.

Ginny Weasley, soon-to-be Harry Potter's wife, and being a professional Quidditch player of the Holyhead Harpies, certainly had a lucrative income. She was a very generous person who enjoyed sharing her riches with her friends, especially with Hermione. Ginny and Harry had reconnected and moved in together four years after Ginny had graduated from Hogwarts. Of course, they had many ups and downs before then, but in the end, they were able to take their relationship more seriously and move to the next stage of living together. They were engaged now, and their wedding would take place next year, with Hermione as her maid of honour.

Hermione had been overjoyed for her friend at the announcement, but she dreaded the idea of being chosen a bridesmaid for the third time: the first time on Bill and Fleur's wedding, the second on that arsefaced Malfoy and Astoria's – as she somehow remained friends with her ex-lovers wife – and now it was Ginny's turn to marry soon. Not unless George and Angelina married first before Ginny and Harry, and Angelina also would choose Hermione as her bridesmaid. That would be just bloody great.

Hermione pushed aside all thoughts of weddings and friends who had blissfully met their soulmates and was about to order another drink when she realised their drinks had already been magically replenished.

"Hermione, you're dreaming, what's wrong with you?" Ginny inquired, a little apprehensive. She sat across from Hermione on the circular wingchair. "Aren't you having a good time? Oh, but maybe not with that non-alcoholic beverage you're drinking."

"Of course, I am," Hermione said defensively. She glanced at the glass of ginger ale and sipped it a few times, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "You know, I was remembering the good old days. Do you recall Malfoy's nuptials?" Didn't she just decided she wasn't going to worry about weddings anymore?

"Not again!" Ginny groaned and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. Hermione had anticipated this reaction, much to her own surprise. Ginny, the only one who understood the entire tale, hated discussing the past with Malfoy and Astoria, knowing that it was merely a painful memory that had tortured Hermione for years.

For weeks, the marriage of Draco and Astoria Malfoy had been front-page news in the Daily Prophet, stating that the Malfoy family would stay untainted and pure. It discussed how his first marriage to an unknown Muggle-born was annulled since he was still underage at the time and no parental consent was provided.

Ginny was the only person Hermione had confided in about her secret love affair with Malfoy in school years ago. A blunder throughout her adolescence and it kept haunting her until now.

"Hermione, stop dreaming!" Hermione was pulled back to the present by Ginny's voice and waving hand. "We're meant to have fun tonight, and if that means using the Cruciatus Curse or something else to force you on the dance floor, then I—Hermione, hello!" Ginny moaned, frustratedly running her palm over her face.

"Hm… I was just thinking about…" Hermione trailed off, lost in space. "Hell's Nightclub…" she mumbled, "Why does it sound so familiar?" She was thoughtful for a moment, as an old memory was coming back to her.

"Okay," Ginny said, surrendering, "what about Malfoy's wedding? And stop talking to yourself. You look like a crazy woman."

Hermione turned to gaze at the people on the dance floor. "He—he said something to me a long time ago that I must have forgotten but suddenly recalled because of this place. I'm not sure... I'm sorry for bringing it up." She laughed hysterically as she shook her head. "You're right, Ginny, we're here to have a good time, but I'm not going to dance."

Ginny blinked, gazing at Hermione as if she'd lost her mind. "Wait, you begin with 'Malfoy's wedding' and 'He mentioned something to me,' and then you stop? What exactly is it? You know I absolutely detest it when you pique my interest and then abruptly shut it off. What exactly did he say?"

"It's been so long that I'm not sure whether I got him correctly. He'd been incoherent, and—well, maybe it wasn't anything. I only recalled because he mentioned Hell's Nightclub."

Ginny moved forward slightly, furrowing her brows in a threatening manner. "What. Did. He. Say?" she asked slowly again, demanding.

Hermione glanced up at the burgundy wall behind Ginny, as if attempting to retrieve a long-buried memory, as if projecting the memories there. "He was ineptly straightening his tie in front of the mirror," she recalled, "and I was going by his room and he spotted me."

She told Ginny about the incident at his wedding four years ago, which she had only gone to for Astoria's sake and because she didn't want to ruin her friend's special day, so she had consented to come. So, as she passed Malfoy's room, he asked her in to speak with her. They hadn't been on speaking terms that day or since their parting, but Hermione didn't want to make a scene, so she went to him.

Hermione recalled how handsome he had looked in his grey tuxedo, with his bleach blond hair brushed back and his stubby face shaved, while he was knotting his tie. He'd asked her to assist him with that sodding tie. Certainly, every Malfoy was born with a tuxedo and learnt to knot a tie before walking.

But then, their eyes had met for the first time after their breakup, the very first time again after all those years.

And those grey irises.

He had simply reminded Hermione of that 15-year-old boy she had fallen in love with.

"What? And then happened?" Ginny pushed, leaning forward.

"He—um, he kissed me," Hermione said quietly, opening her eyes and looked at her friend. "Imagine he did that with another woman on his wedding day. I mean, me. However, who am I to judge? I've betrayed my friend Astoria!"

"It was just a kiss, for Merlin's sake," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "You've shagged in school."

Hermione shuddered at the memory but chose to ignore her. "I persuaded myself that I was over him. I—slapped him after asking him what his problem was." Hermione fidgeted with her skirt, then took another gulp of her ginger ale. But she needed a stronger drink this time.

"He kissed you and you slapped him," Ginny repeated. "Uh huh, and then?"

"He said he probably deserved it, but then he—kissed me again," Hermione said, her gaze fixed on the wall. "'Four years from now, meet me in 'Hell's Night Club' in London before midnight,' he told me. I had no idea what he meant because I'd never heard of this place before, and why he said that was a mystery to me. In other words, in four years? Ginny, that's in four months. And there's been rumours that he hadn't been happy in his marriage, then suddenly I came across his divorce petition."

Ginny let that sink in. "You mean he's planned all that for years to leave her for you?" she reiterated.

"I didn't say that," Hermione said a bit fiercely. "Maybe I just got him wrong. And getting a divorce is a time-consuming procedure that could take up several months, sometimes years."

"Yeah, yeah, Miss Divorce Solicitor."

They remained silent for a few minutes, processing the words. The music changed to somewhat faster and with more beat and rhythm. Ginny emptied her firewhisky and other cocktails and summoned another one. She scratched her right eyebrow, thoughtful for a moment, and then ran her hand through her straight long hair.

"He's a jerk who had cold feet on his wedding day. That happens." After another impatient exhale, she added, "That didn't mean anything, Hermione, not even the kiss. And relationships, particularly marriages, do not always go well, as you may already know. Don't get too excited."

"I'm not some naive girl living in a fairytale, Ginny," Hermione remarked, frowning. "I should probably not have started it in the first place."

"No, my apologies. That was uncalled-for. It's simply –" Ginny inhaled deeply. "Do you want to know what I think? But, please, before you get upset, hear me out."

Hermione just glared, tightening her grip around the neck of her glass. "You sound like I'm not going to like it."

"All right, wait," Ginny said as she took a mouthful of her new drink. "I'm talking about Ron. You both wanted to get together, so you ended up together, but it didn't work out. You dated other blokes, but you never thought any of them appealing or decent enough to establish a relationship with. You have Malfoy on the 'waiting list' in your mind." Ginny scribbled quotation marks in the air, "As though you're secretly waiting for him and using this as an excuse to avoid other men. You try to find potential weaknesses and then discard them. You immerse yourself in work and despise it when we attempt to set you up with other men—"

"You are the one trying to match me with men," Hermione clarified. "They were all... outstanding in their own way, Ginny. The last one had tattoos all over his arms as well as pierced ears, nose, and lips."

"What I'm saying," Ginny said, nosily sighing, "is that you could be looking for something else. Something entirely different. If that something – someone – comes, then you'll be completely over Malfoy. Trust me."

"But I'm not looking at all! What's wrong with being single?" Hermione snapped.

"Nothing's wrong with it, but I'm worried because you don't even have a social life."

"Social life? I'm always among people, and I have friends. Just because I don't go on parties and sleep around—"

"You're among clients, and you hardly go out with friends," Ginny retorted. "When was the last time you went out on a date?"

Hermione groaned, then shrugged. Goodness, when was the last time? Last year, maybe? "My work keeps me busy," she said simply.

"And the last time you had sex?" Ginny prodded, unabashed.

Hermione yelled indignantly, "That's none of your concern!" Her head heating up like it was under searing fire.

"Thought so!"

"If your objectives were to locate me a possible date partner here, I'm not interested," Hermione responded swiftly as she regained control of her voice. She stood from her seat and placed her glass on the table.

"Where're you going?"

Heading for the exit, she thought. "Washroom," she said.

Stupid Ginny, no one knew Hermione better as her best friend, whom she had known since they were teenagers.

But what does she really know?

Nothing beats speculative thinking. Hermione had not waited for Malfoy to return to her. She'd meet her soulmate eventually, someday, the one who would look into her eyes and see her soul. Someone who would understand her in a number of different ways without using words. Someone with whom she might lose herself just by being together.

But then there's that. She didn't live in a fairytale world. There were no soulmates. There was no One True Love. No destiny. No fate. No happily-ever-after. Her true soulmate won't come crashing down on her and sweep her off her feet.

In a moment of distraction, someone knocked into her as she made her way to the facilities along a tight dimly lighted passageway. That someone whispered something incoherent under their breath. Hermione couldn't tell if it was a curse or an excuse.

"Oh, excuse me," Hermione said anyway, half-turning around without looking the other person in the face.

"Nice bum," came a remark from the same person she'd just bumped into, a young woman. Hermione didn't bother to look back, figuring that the woman would be probably talking to some guy that came from the VIP lounge when she suddenly felt a soft pinch on her backside.

"Hey!" Hermione spun around, and, immediately, her jaw dropped when she finally stared at the person. "Amanda? Oh…but…?"

"Huh?"

Amanda Watson, her secretary, was standing right in front of her, making her look taller than she already was, even without the couple inches leather boots she wore tonight. However, Hermione had never looked or stood close enough to this young woman to make such an observation. Her normally neat, clipped strawberry-blonde hair was dangling loose over her shoulders, with strands in her face. She was wearing a black top, a strap dangling loosely on her shoulder, and tight jeans. She was wobbly on her feet and appeared to be about to fall over. There was heavy scent of alcohol around the young woman.

Hermione had known her secretary for nearly six months now—only professionally, of course—since she started working for her at the office. She'd always been presentable in her sophisticated manner, a 'feast for the eyes', if she could recite her male colleague's compliments, always wearing knee-length tight-fitting skirts and fitted blouses that emphasizes her slender figure.

Hermione had been hesitant to hire Amanda because of her allure to Hermione's male co-workers, which would almost surely result in office scandals of some form, or whatever else would happen. But Amanda had proved herself to be respectable and energetic, who had not only the knowledge and competence of a legal secretary but was also hard-working and ambitious, so Hermione had kept her. It would have been sexist if Hermione had rejected her application just on the basis of her attractiveness. Who was she to judge a book by its cover? Yes, her male coworkers lusted after the youthful beauty, but she didn't reciprocate.

But it almost looked like Amanda had shown her true self tonight. Her drunkenness. Her flirtatiousness. And she wasn't simply flirting with anyone; she was flirting with her own superior! For God's sake, her female superior! Was she even aware of what was going on? Hermione explained her secretary's behaviour with the apparent, easy reason: she was young, and although she was already nineteen years old, she was still a teenager.

Leaning against the wall as though she couldn't hold herself upright, Amanda narrowed her eyes down on Hermione. She didn't appear to realise who she was talking to, judging by the way she peered through Hermione with her heavy-lidded glassy eyes.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, resting her hand on Amanda's arm.

Amanda fixated her gaze on Hermione's hand, and a mischievous sneer grew over her lips, as if she were a tigress that had found its prey and was ready to pounce. When Amanda moved, it took Hermione a second to realise what was going on, and another second to realise it was too late to avoid it. When Amanda pulled on her arm, their bodies pressed against each other, pinning Hermione against the opposite wall. Despite the mild scent of alcohol and the sweat on the young woman's body, Amanda smelled incredibly lovely, like watermelon and mint.

And there was the softness of her body… the curves…

Did it just get hot in here?

"You're so beautiful," she burbled, breathing against Hermione's lips but barely brushing them, unexpectantly causing Hermione's stomach to tingle.

"Oh my God!" Hermione, humiliated by the situation, sought to extricate herself from Amanda's grip, which led Amanda to reel on her feet, leaving Hermione with little choice but to retain her grip on the young woman. As a result, she pressed Amanda against the wall. "You're drunk, Amanda. Are you with someone?" Hermione cast a glance down the deserted corridor. "You might want to sit with me and a friend so that we can get you safely home."

Amanda clutched the back of Hermione's head and leered at her through heavy-lidded bright blue eyes. She purred again as she drew their faces closer together. "Such a lovely face. So... lovely."

"What ar—"

It happened then.

She kissed her.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock as she felt Amanda's lips crushed against hers, and she tensed instinctively. Regardless of how sudden or aggressive the kiss was at first, the lips themselves were gentle. Amanda moved them once, delicately tracing her tongue over Hermione's closed lips. Amanda's teasing lips and tongue triggered a slight flutter in Hermione's stomach, urging her to kiss back, but she was too terrified, too hesitant. And why was she even thinking about kissing her back? A half second later, another voice, the rational part, countered. Why wasn't she pulling away? The voice went on.

This woman was Amanda Watson, her own employee, not even twenty years old. For Heaven's sake—six years younger. And this was bound to start a rumour in the office if someone found out. So, Hermione should back away, shouldn't she?

It didn't help much when Amanda moaned against her lips, which was both distracting and... arousing for reasons unknown to Hermione. It had been a long time since she had been kissed so passionately. Since she had felt another body against her own. This was beyond anything she had ever imagined in her life.

She closed her eyes for a second, allowing it briefly, parting her lips slightly, and relishing it for a fraction of a second.

Until she heard the rational voice in her mind again.

Hermione was eventually able to pull back and push Amanda away.

"Uff," Amanda huffed when she hit the wall.

"There you are!" cried a voice, annoyance mingled with relief. Hermione turned around to see a tall guy she didn't recognise glaring at them. In the dark light, his eyes appeared droopy, and his straight hair, reflecting the red neon lights, looked golden, was styled in a severe manner. "Get your hands off her!" he bellowed at Hermione, as if she were some deviant caught in the act with no moral motives. As if Hermione had been the one who had assaulted the younger woman. He pulled Amanda away from her and brushed her hair away from her face so he could see her eyes. As if Hermione had drugged her.

Normally, Hermione was not slow to catch, but clearly this location and the entire atmosphere, as well as Ginny's bold questioning and Amanda's kiss, had fried a few of her brain cells, for she required an extra-long second to realise what the guy was insinuating.

"What? I didn't –" Hermione started, flabbergasted. Amanda was gripping at the sleeve of her blouse, refusing to let go. Hermione squeezed her hand quickly, as though to reassure that everything would be alright. "You should look after your girlfriend. She's clearly had one too many drinks," she said, her voice authoritative.

"Thank you, Mother!" the guy spat, pursing his lips.

"Wha-? 's mum here?" Amanda asked, looking panicked. She was clutching at the guy's other arm for support.

The guy supported Amanda by placing her arm around his shoulder, half-carrying her. "C'mon you vixen, you're going home. You're in big trouble," he ordered Amanda like she was a little child. He called over his shoulder to Hermione, a warning in his voice. "Stay away from her, got that?"

Stay away from her, Hermione repeated in her mind and almost laughed if the situation weren't serious. She's working for me.

"How dare you! I'm her—" Hermione called after them, but they'd vanished behind the adjacent corridor, and her voice was muffled out by the loud music. "—boss," she snarled under her breath.

Amanda owed her an explanation for what had happened.

*,*,*

Even on Monday morning, Hermione's head was still spinning from the party she had attended with Ginny. She hadn't been able to sleep that night, or rather that morning since she Apparated home at four in the morning. Her eyes and head had been aching, and her heels had blisters from her shoes, as predicted. Even a hot bath couldn't relax her tense muscles.

Indeed, Hermione had insisted on drinking firewhisky to wash away the taste of Amanda's sweet lips, and she had even danced for hours to forget the warm feel of Amanda's delicate body.

That's when everything started to become complicated...

She wanted to inquire about Amanda's well-being because the poor girl had seemed dismal when she last saw her in the nightclub. But because Amanda didn't work Monday morning, Hermione would have to wait until after lunch. But would she be able to just ask?

Had a nice weekend, Amanda? You looked good in those boots; by the way, do you happen to remember that you tried French-kissing me? Nah, that wouldn't do it…

Someone knocked on her door. Mr. Barren, one of her coworkers' secretary, entered her office, a small man with a bald head. "Miss Granger," he said, "a Miss Weasley wishes to speak with you." His almond-shaped eyes were concerned. "Did you spend the entire weekend working? You appear to be in desperate need of a break."

"Yes, definitely," Hermione moaned, "send her in."

Ginny walked into her office with the same smug expression she'd had last Friday when she had abducted Hermione to that nightclub. "Would you like to go out again tonight?" she suggested, giggling. She sat on the small leather chair in front of Hermione's oak desk, closing the door behind her.

"Yes, definitely," Hermione seethed, holding her pounding head.

"Is Miss Watson here?"

Hermione tensed, but she tried not to show it. She hadn't informed Ginny about the incident between her and Amanda yet, or perhaps she had, but she couldn't recall precisely. Her skull ached. Ginny's smug expression, however, and her newfound interest in Amanda suggested that she'd told her. Great!

"Ginny, please," Hermione warned, not being able to focus on her client's complaint form she was going through. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

There was a brief silence between them. It would be too good to be true if Ginny just dropped it, but knowing her friend, she was undoubtedly scheming something wicked. Maybe she already had something planned and was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to implement it.

That's just so Ginny!

"You refurbished your office," Ginny said, changing the subject. "It looks nice. I like oak wood furniture. And the paintings are great."

Hermione looked up to see Ginny scanning the room, trying to hide the grin on her face.

See?

"Okay, what it is, Ginny?" Hermione slammed her file folder shut, throwing her friend a fiery look. "Amanda's not here yet if you're really looking for her. Stay out of it," she added, and hoped she didn't sound too pleading. She'd beg if necessary.

"Whatever! Anyway, I've brought you an apple," Ginny said as she took the red fruit from her purse and placed it on Hermione's desk, blatantly teasing her. "I assumed you needed vitamins to help you feel better. You appear exhausted."

"Really?" Hermione gave her a frown.

There was another knock on the door, and it opened. It caused Hermione and Ginny to turn towards the door at the same time, but only Hermione tensed involuntarily. Well, speaking of forbidden fruits! Hermione pondered and nearly laughed. So, that's what Ginny was implying with the dang apple. Ginny, you're on a roll!

Amanda appeared at the door, carrying a new folder in her hand. It was the Amanda Hermione knew as her secretary: stylish in her professional attire, curling strawberry-blonde hair neatly trimmed back, her bangs swept to the side, a sweet smile on her young face. But Hermione was still thinking about the Amanda from the nightclub, how she felt her warm body pressed against hers, remembering the softness of her petal lips lingering on her own. Hermione flushed and lowered her gaze at the same time.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," Amanda said in greeting. Her eyes shifted to Ginny. "Oh, good afternoon, Miss Weasley. Can I bring either of you coffee or something else?"

"Coffee, maybe," Ginny said.

"Sure," Amanda replied, "how do you like your coffee, ma'am?"

Then Ginny turned towards Hermione, to show that grin on her face only to her.

"I like my coffee like I like my affairs..." she said, "with a pleasant mouthfeel!"

Hermione groaned. Amanda looked perplexed.

"Okay, coffee it is," she said. She walked towards Hermione's desk to place the folder there, wafting a watermelon scent towards Hermione's nose. "Miss Granger, here's the file Mr. Hamilton wants you to sign. It's the separation agreement of Mr. and Mrs. Stanley since you were responsible for handling the cause on his behalf. I've duplicated the document that'll be sent to Mrs. Stanley's solicitor right after."

"Thank you," Hermione said, looking up briefly. Her handwriting became shaky, and her breathing went uneven. Must be the lack of oxygen in this room, she told herself. She got up from her chair to search something in her file cabinet behind her, rummaging in it just to hide her nervousness.

For God's sake, what's the matter with me?

There was a short silence behind her, and Hermione wondered if Ginny and Amanda were exchanging a significant look just to taunt her. Great! Now she was being paranoid.

"Do you need anything else?" Amanda inquired.

"No, thank you."

She heard Amanda leaving the office and shutting the door carefully. She felt Ginny's eyes boring at her back. She was worried to turn around.

"What was that?" asked Ginny, gobsmacked.

"What was what?"

"Nah, that!"

With another sigh and a prolonged pause, Hermione turned around and scowled at her friend, irritation swelling inside her. She assumed Ginny was referring to her weird behaviour towards Amanda, which would have been understandable, wouldn't it? But there was surprise in her friend's face, her mouth partly open in amazement. Fact was, Ginny was surprised about something else…

"Whoa…" Ginny said behind her hand, chuckling like a preschool girl.

"What? Ginny, it's so not funny."

"Have you seen her face?" Ginny asked out of the blue, her thumb indicating the spot where a mere minute ago Amanda had stood.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny. "Obviously not."

"She was marveling at your bum, Hermione," Ginny whispered, stretching the word.

"Oh…what?" Hermione felt her cheeks burn.

"Yes, you heard me."

"Grow up!"

Amanda re-entered the room, balancing a platter in her hand. She placed the coffee in front of Ginny and two cookies on an extra plate beside it. Hermione turned around quickly. She was aware that she was acting immature, so not appropriate of her position. She rummaged again in her file cabinet, grabbing any random folder, and turning the pages.

"Great service," Ginny said kindly. "Thank you. Oh, Miss Watson," she went on. Hermione closed her eyes and wished the ground to open beneath her. Ginny, stop it! she prayed.

"Yes?"

"I thought you're free every Monday morning. It's not even after lunch yet," Ginny spoke. She made a sound like she was sipping at her coffee.

"Oh," Amanda said with a smile in her voice, "I always come a bit early. But usually, I wait downstairs in the lobby. There's a great cafeteria."

"So, you came early today on purpose," Ginny reiterated. Hermione fought the urge not to throw a folder at her friend's head. What the heck was she implying this time?

"Yes, because I was reviewing legal publications for this afternoon's meeting, and I finished a few drafts for Miss Granger," Amanda qualified. Always industrious. Always ambitious.

"Miss Granger must be lucky to have you," Ginny concluded.

"Ginny," Hermione managed to groan, hoping Ginny heard the dangerous warning in her voice. She slammed the drawer shut and opened the lower one, and continued her search there, except that she wasn't really searching for something.

I will kill you. Slowly and painfully, Miss Weasley, she thought.

"Actually," Amanda said softly. "I am the lucky one."

Hermione dropped the folder she was reading—holding, whatever—and bent down quickly to gather the papers that was scattered on her floor. Amanda was at her side immediately, reaching for the papers as well.

"I'll get that," she said before Hermione had a chance to react. Like last Friday, she was like paralyzed. She handed the folder, with the papers inside arranged in proper order, back to Hermione.

"Thank you," she mumbled, frowning at the stupid folder. She returned it to the file cabinet. When she heard Amanda leave the room, Hermione spun around, her eyes instantly catching Ginny's eyes. She was nibbling on her cookie, looking innocent.

"You should go for it, Hermione," Ginny suddenly suggested. "The way she looks at you, it's really cute."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione sighed long-sufferingly, releasing the breath she had been holding since Amanda had walked in, and dropped in her leather chair. Ginny had lost her mind, she decided.

"You know what a friend of mine once told me?" Ginny said self-assuredly, ignoring Hermione. "You never know what will be —" she smirked as she munched on the last bit of cookie, adding, "—until you try."

A/N: I finally finished rewriting and revising this long chapter. Ginny's characterization in my story is one of my favourites. Hermione, who is so self-conscious and uptight, deserves a buddy like her.

Please review/comment if you enjoy the storyline thus far. Many of you fellow writers understand what I mean when I say that writing a chapter takes a long time and a lot of work. :) Even if you're only a reader, you should understand that coming up with a chapter concept requires a lot of imagination and effort to write down. :)