CHAPTER NINE
The Ministry of Magic
London, England
October 20, 2003 – Monday Mid-Morning
A rather determined interoffice memo scooted itself under my office door with stubborn insistence. It had been knocking against the window casing above for the last half-hour, but I'd ignored it, burying myself in the draft I was writing up to submit for legal to consider. The note had finally decided to take matters into its own hands so it could fulfill its duty and scrunched itself under the narrow opening between the door and the tile flooring.
I watched it land on the desk right in front of me, shudder, and go still, recognizing the colored paper and knowing who had sent the note and why. With a sigh, I opened it and read.
Right, what did that wanker do to get my best friend to hide away all weekend? Is it time for the healing power of ice cream?
Bless Ginny's nosey, little bum. I loved that witch for knowing just exactly what I needed at the moment: female solidarity. Misery does love company, after all.
I scratched a line through her note and wrote my reply underneath:
I would give my left kneecap for some 'pink and white' right about now.
With a tap and wave of my wand, reciting the spell to reanimate the memo, I sent it on its way. Twenty minutes later, Ginny let herself into my office, bespelled the door for complete privacy and dropped a familiar white paper bag in front of me. "Fortescue's Take-Away" and "Encouraging your misbehaving cravings since 1899!" was stamped tastefully on the front, leaving no doubt as to its contents. Rummaging inside, I found my favorite: Strawberry-Vanilla Swirl.
"You are Godric's greatest blessing!" I profoundly appreciated my best friend with my most dazzlingly white smile.
Gin helped herself to the seat across from me, put her booted feet up on the corner of my desk, leaned back in the chair and grinned at me like the Cheshire Cat. "I know. I'll take the knee off later, by the way. We'll use a splicing spell and a level so it won't hurt a bit. For now, though - spill."
So, I told her everything – even that I'd started to fall in love with the prat – as I dug into the pint of ice cream with the provided spoon. By the time I was done talking, half the container was gone, Gin's feet were back on the floor where they belonged, and she was gripping the arms of her chair with anger, a scowl set upon her features. "That dog! " she snapped. "You told him you seriously liked him enough to date, and he had the audacity to shoot you down like that?" Her upper lip curled. "No good bastard! Forget him. You can do better, 'Mione."
Do you know how much I adore Ginevra Weasley for her steadfast loyalty? She is, without a doubt, the best friend a girl could ever have.
We talked a little longer while I finished off the mid-afternoon treat. My friend left to return to her desk an hour later with promises to take me to a different club this weekend to help me forget my sorrows, and thirty minutes later, I felt positively ill from a combination of consuming too much sugar all at once and tearing open the 'Malfoy wound' I'd spent all weekend nursing closed. I asked my boss to be dismissed for the day, citing illness, and was granted the reprieve.
You know what? I didn't feel an ounce of guilt over taking that mental health day, because the truth was, I definitely needed the hot, lavender scented bath I hopped into as soon as I got home, and later the Chinese take-away I ordered from my favorite Muggle restaurant for lunch (once my tummy had settled down, that was). I enjoyed Jane Austen with my four o'clock tea, and that night, I gave myself a fantastic orgasm with one of my favorite vibrating toys. I slept like a baby for the first time in a month. It seemed that switching my regular daily grind for just twenty-four hours had worked miracles on my self-esteem.
By the following morning, I'd sent Gin a note telling her I was looking forward to trying a new club this upcoming weekend, and this time, I was going as me, Hermione Jean Granger - not Miss Submissive.
TO BE CONTINUED…