Chapter Text
The following days proved to be utterly exhausting. Midterms were approaching faster than Hermione felt comfortable with, and material that previously sparked passion in her was replaced with a pit of dread.
Hermione groaned as she threw her backpack on top of the table in front of her, rubbing her temples. The library was overcrowded with other students, all studying for their midterms and trying to keep their sanity in the process, huddled together and hunched over their laptops and textbooks. While they all attempted to keep their volumes to a whisper, it had gradually turned into a room full of chatter.
The blank Google Doc almost mocked her as she stared at it. She blinked, and then let out another groan. Philosophy of the Mind was easily one of her favourite courses throughout her academic career. Psychology and philosophy were her passion, and she knew she wanted to teach it like her professors did since she’d taken the first introductory class.
Typically, it wasn’t as if this midterm would be any challenge. If anything, she’d enjoy it. Free will was a fascinating topic to explore. She always found herself reading books and articles on it, even writing research papers on her own time (which, Ginny always relentlessly teased her for).
But she just couldn’t get her brain to work. To cooperate.
Her thoughts kept wandering back to a certain woman. Bellatrix.
When she woke after the texts they had shared, Hermione was half convinced she’d simply dreamt of it, until she found herself rereading the conversation. She cringed when she did. She felt embarrassed—she had been too vulnerable, too honest. While part of her wanted to blame it on the alcohol, delude herself into thinking she was drunker than she thought and said something she didn’t mean, she knew that it wasn’t the truth.
Ever since she started working at Black Brew Coffee, her thoughts had gradually been taken over by her boss. Her teasing, how her skin burned every time Bellatrix’s fingers brushed over them… she found herself yearning for the next time she’d see the woman. What was once dread and anxiety had slowly shifted to excitement. Every interaction played in her head on a loop, Hermione finding new ways to analyze them and try to make sense of it all.
Bellatrix was just so… confusing. Her moods and attitude could change at a whim, never consistent. Criticising snarls from the older woman, that shifted to flirtatious purrs in her ear. But then, as her shifts continued, Bellatrix gradually became more teasing, cocky… always lingering close by, giving Hermione small brushes of physical contact that were so quick yet so heated it gave her whiplash.
The thoughts of it raced in her mind, looping and only growing louder. Shifting her eyes away from the computer screen, she reached for her phone again, gnawing on her bottom lip.
Nothing.
“Hermione?”
At the sound of her name Hermione raised her head, a smile tilting her lips the moment she saw Ginny standing over her.
“Trying to study for midterms, huh?” Ginny asked with a nod, sitting herself across from Hermione and thumping her backpack down next to hers. “I swear, I’m going bloody mental. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”
Hermione sighed in agreement, running her fingers through messy curls. “Tell me about it. Dr. McGonagall is absolutely fascinating, but God this paper.” She pursed her lips. “And it certainly doesn’t help that my word count is at a strong hundred and two at the moment.”
Ginny whistled in response, shaking her head and pulling her own laptop out of her bag. “I thought you liked writing for this class?”
Hermione leaned back in her chair, staring up at the fluorescent lights above them. Blinked. Leaned back down with a grimace. “I do. That’s the problem. I should be able to focus but I’m just so…”
“Distracted?” Ginny finished, now scribbling down notes on spare pieces of paper.
“Yeah,” she agreed, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. There was a beat of silence as Hermione pondered.
All Ginny knew so far about Bellatrix was that she had been Hermione’s intimidating, unforgiving, borderline sadistic boss. So, potentially not the best first impression.
But the tension of trying to keep it all to herself, the conversation replaying in her head in never-ending cycles, was almost enough to drive Hermione mad. So, exhaling deeply, Hermione blurted out, “If I tell you something—well, something that might sound a bit… strange—you won’t judge me, right?”
Ginny raised a brow as she looked up from her laptop, shifting in her chair. “Probably not. Now spill.”
The confirmation was enough to make all of Hermione’s hesitation go completely out the window. “You know Bellatrix?”
“You mean, the boss you abandoned our day at the park for?” Ginny smirked.
Hermione huffed. “Yes.” She paused before continuing, “Well—that night, after my shift… she texted me.”
Cocking her head, Ginny inquired, “Texted you?”
“Yes. To thank me for coming in,” she swallowed, tutting as a ring slipped off her thumb as a result of her fidgeting. “But we kept texting, and um…”
Unable to hold herself back, Ginny exclaimed, “Hermione Jean Granger—did you sext your boss?!”
Hermione’s face turned a blazing red as she clamped her hand over Ginny’s mouth, scanning around the library to check no one’s head had turned. A librarian spared a glare in their direction, her mouth opened in offense. “Christ, can you keep your voice down? I don’t exactly need the whole library to know my business!” she hissed, ducking her head.
Unbothered, Ginny licked Hermione’s hand until she yanked it away with a disgusted frown. Ginny grinned. “So, you did then?”
“No,” Hermione replied promptly, crossing her arms over her chest. Ginny huffed, almost seeming disappointed at the response. “But she… well, she was drunk. And she told me—she told me that she’s been thinking about me.”
Ginny’s jaw dropped.
“And I…”
For a moment, Hermione considered simply lying about what she had replied. It was so embarrassing. But she sighed, looking away from Ginny and admitted it to her.
“I told her that I think about her too. Then she said she only teases me because I’m cute when I get embarrassed, and then I said she needed to get some sleep before she says something she regrets, and then…”
“Then you went and had sex?” Ginny suggested bluntly, motioning her head.
“No!” Hermione responded, her eyes wide. “No, no of course not. We haven’t—we haven’t talked since then. I’ve been too scared to text her anything.”
Ginny frowned, now fully abandoning her work entirely. Hermione had already done the same. “Wait—why not? Come on, ‘Mione. She quite literally told you she’s been thinking about you. She might as well have told you to take your pants off.”
Hermione had suspected her friend would’ve told her off for it, telling her that it was more than a bad idea. But Ginny had always been a bit impulsive. She snorted, still double-checking no one had become nosy enough to tune into their conversation. “I don’t know, Gin. I mean… I think it’s flirty. But what if I’m wrong? Plus, I’m pretty sure she was drunk out of her mind. There’s a very good chance she’s embarrassed about it, and probably hopes I’ll never bring it up again. Not to mention, she’s my boss.”
With a hum, Ginny tapped her chin. “I thought when people are drunk, that’s their real selves or something. Plus, do you know how many people have affairs with their bosses? It’s not like it’s a huge company. I’m sure the ethics are… fine.”
“Well, I don’t know that for sure. And no, alcohol just lowers your inhibitions and impairs judgment by primarily affecting the brain's prefrontal cortex—”
“Oh God, never mind. Sorry I even said anything,” Ginny moaned in response, rolling her eyes. “Anyway. That doesn’t change the fact that it seems pretty glaringly obvious she wants you. Plus, if you text her and she doesn’t reply, or it goes against some policy—which I highly doubt—you can just quit or something. There’s probably a hundred coffee shops in London. It’s not like you’ll be banned from the barista world.”
Hermione bit at a fingernail. “Yeah, but it’s not just about that.”
“What is it about then?” Ginny raised a brow. “Your ego?”
Shrugging one shoulder in reply, Hermione took another sip out of her coffee cup.
Gone cold. Gross.
“I mean, maybe? I just don’t want to be let down. And I don’t know… the more I think about her, the more I think this might be something more than just wanting to get laid.”
“Hermione Granger has a crush,” Ginny finally said with a smirk, leaning back in her chair. “That’s why you’re so obsessive over this. You like her.”
“What—no. It can’t be that,” Hermione responded quickly, her stomach doing a flip. “I can’t like her. I mean, she’s… she’s attractive, but anyone would notice that. She’s mean, she’s hot and then cold, she’s cocky, so full of herself, and—”
“And you like that,” Ginny finished confidently, satisfied to see Hermione shift uncomfortably at the realisation.
Hermione averted eye contact, instead staring back down at her hands. She really needed to stop biting her nails… “Look, Gin. Feelings can’t happen. It’s not worth any consideration. I know her… people like her. Well, they’re probably just looking for an entertaining fuck they can forget about the next morning.”
A sigh. “You can’t know that for sure. Maybe just… I don’t know. Text her a bit and try setting the flirting aside?”
“That’s easy for you to say.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry’s like, sickeningly wholesome.”
Ginny laughed, “Yeah, fair enough. All I’m saying is, maybe lean into it a little bit. It’s about time you live life on the edge.”
Hermione rubbed her temples, feeling a headache start to form. “I don’t know.”
The sound of a notebook being flipped open drew Hermione’s thoughts away from the older woman, Ginny opening her laptop screen back up for her. “This conversation isn’t over. But, we should probably attempt to get some work done. And for me to do that, I need you to focus too. Parallel play, or something.”
Hermione reached to check her phone once more, and gasped when Ginny quickly snatched it out of her hands and zipped it up in her backpack.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“Absolutely not,” Ginny replied firmly, her brows furrowing. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy waiting for your screen to light up. You’ll get it back when your paper actually has even a concept of an outline.”
With a grumble Hermione looked back at her screen, reopening up an endless supply of tabs. “Fine. But I wouldn’t care either way.”
A snort. “Yeah, sure, ‘Mione. Whatever you say.”
***
The tube was packed as usual, Hermione barely managed to squeeze through the crowd of people. The air was thick and humid, and she found her nose scrunching at the foul scent. It was to be expected, however—rush hour was always a nightmare. Bodies blurred together as everyone tried to hurry to their destination, unaware and uncaring of how their limbs bumped against one another.
Hermione had decided to be more environmentally friendly during the New Year, shifting from driving to taking the underground. If only she had known the chaos of navigating the tube station.
Hermione let out a long sigh as the doors finally closed, her eyes scanning the array of people.
Maybe there’s a seat, oh God please let there be a seat, I—there!
Hermione raced to sit down as an older gentleman sat up, getting off at his stop. She ignored several irritated glances at her for taking the seat. Not that she particularly cared. Her legs burned from the long walk from the library to the underground, and she dreaded the idea of having to be squashed between fellow passengers while holding onto the rail for dear life.
The session with Ginny had been more productive than Hermione had anticipated it being—her friend always had a way of distracting her from whatever nonsense was going on in the young woman’s life, instead, bringing her back to the present.
But despite the amount of work Hermione had managed to complete, and the upbeat presence of her friend, Bellatrix had still lingered. She craved the sensation of her phone lighting up, Bellatrix’s name flashing from the screen.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket, her lips pulling into a frown when the screen only had one notification, an Instagram reel sent from Ginny. She exhaled lowly.
Maybe she’s waiting for me to say something. Maybe… maybe she’s nervous.
Thoughts bounced back and forth in Hermione’s head. The lines had already been blurred. One more text couldn’t do anymore damage than there already was.
Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she reopened the message app once more. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but before she could stop herself, she had already typed out the word and clicked send.
Hermione: Hey
Hermione: Do you regret what you said last week?
Hermione’s leg bounced up and down as she stared at her phone, embarrassed by how her stomach churned as she waited for the response. Hey? God.
She sounded pathetic. She self-consciously glanced up from her phone and around at the people sitting beside her, ensuring that no one was nosy enough to see what she had been doing.
The tube came to a screeching halt, and Hermione was forced to put her phone back into her pocket as she left the station. Her pace as she walked was quick, trying to let out the nervous energy that she buzzed with. There was a sharp ringing in her eardrums that she just couldn’t shake off, and she found herself wiping her damp palms on her trousers.
She grit her teeth, finally giving in to the urge to check her phone once again.
No new notifications.
Fuck.
Great. She’d done exactly what she’d feared the most. Made a fool of herself.
How was she supposed to face Bellatrix again at work? She’d jumped to conclusions, ignoring the reality of the situation—being that she’d stepped out of line.
Wind had started to howl against her face, causing Hermione to shiver. The chatter of people passing by her was simply a background noise to her spiraling thoughts, entirely tuned out. The orange glow from dusk reflected across pale cheeks as she hurried her pace, willing herself to keep it together before she got home.
Hermione’s flat was finally just in view, and the young woman let out a deep breath. She just needed to try and forget about the whole thing. She considered simply blocking Bellatrix’s number—pretend that she never even got a text in the first place. Pretend—
Ding!
Her phone vibrated from her pocket as Hermione walked up the stairs to her flat floor, and suddenly she felt her entire body start to tremble.
With shaking hands she reached for her phone, quickly swiping to the messages app. Her heart dropped when she saw three notifications from Bellatrix. She swallowed, clicking on the text thread. Her eyes widened when she read the messages.
Bellatrix: Hi, pet. I was wondering how long it would take you.
Bellatrix: I don’t regret a thing.
Bellatrix: You should come over. If you don’t have any regrets, that is.
At that, Hermione’s mouth went completely dry. She stopped right in front of her front door, stuffing her keys back into her pocket. This was a bad idea. A stupid idea. She should go home, cuddle up with Crooks, drink her feelings away.
She absolutely should not be turning right back around, rapidly texting a reply lest Bellatrix change her mind. She was supposed to be thinking about her job. Bellatrix’s track record of behaviour made her a risk. Unstable, unpredictable.
But despite all of it, Hermione couldn’t help but be drawn to it. Wanting it. The alarm bells blaring in her head would simply have to be ignored for the time being. It was reckless, stupid. Was that going to stop her… no, she decided. She deserved to be reckless once in a while, didn’t she?
Hermione: Send the address. Otw
Too late now.