Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hermione woke with a startled gasp, cold sweat soaking her entire body, making her hair cling to her forehead. She buried her head in her pillow, trying to take deep breaths.

“Relax,” she told herself. “Just another one of those ridiculous nightmares.”

Technically, they weren’t even real nightmares.
But anyone who knew Hermione Granger even slightly could tell you that showing up late on her very first day of work was a scenario just as dreadful as any nightmare could be.

“As if that would ever happen to me.”

She prided herself on never being late for anything, anywhere.
And especially not today.

After years of training, endless hours of studying, and gruelling weeks of writing dozens of applications, she would finally have her first day as an intern at King’s Cross Hospital in London. Becoming a surgeon had been her dream for as long as she could remember, only growing stronger throughout medical school. She had worked harder than anyone else, passing on parties and weekend getaways with classmates in favour of long nights studying anatomy or practising sutures on the training pad her parents had bought her for her high school graduation.

And now she was closer than ever to fulfilling her dream, having secured an immensely competitive position in the surgical department of one of Britain’s most prestigious hospitals. She was so ready to take over the OR.

“But only if you stop daydreaming and hurry the heck up,” she told herself. “Or your nightmare will become reality much sooner than you think.”

As she entered the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and she mentally thanked her roommate for preparing some. Hermione was an absolute mess without her morning coffee.

“So, ready for our big day?” said her roommate, emerging from the bathroom with wet red hair.

It was Ginny’s first day at King’s Cross as well—she was starting as a paediatrics intern—and Hermione knew for a fact that her best friend was just as nervous as she was. But Ginny would never let it show, now spreading jam on her toast as if this was just another regular morning. She was cool like that, and Hermione envied her.

“I’m as ready as I can be,” Hermione murmured, fidgeting with her hair and the collar of her crisp white blouse, the most professional item of clothing she owned.

“Oi, stop fidgeting and drink your coffee. You look good, and everybody will like you. And we won’t mess this up,” Ginny said, the last sentence seemingly more to convince herself than Hermione.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur, and soon they found themselves in the impressive foyer of the hospital, already bustling with people.

“Poke me, Mione, I can’t believe we’re finally here,” Ginny whispered, her eyes wide as saucers.

Hermione turned her head, trying to take in as much of her surroundings as possible: the buzzing voices of dozens upon dozens of people, the way the morning light reflected off the immaculately polished hospital floor. An ambulance passed outside, its siren ear-piercing and bright and just…

“Perfect,” Hermione whispered to herself.

“That must be the other new interns over there,” Ginny exclaimed, pointing to a group of equally awestruck and nervous young people on the other side of the entrance hall.

Hermione recognised Parvati Patil, who had been in the same year as Ginny and herself in medical school, and gave her a quick wave. She didn’t recognise the other three people. One of them, a young man with messy black hair, was speaking in hushed tones to his friend, who looked pale and on the verge of fainting.

“You must excuse Neville here—he’s terrible on first days,” the black-haired boy said, glancing at Hermione and Ginny. “I’m Harry, by the way. Harry Potter. We’re from the University of Glasgow. How about you?”

“King’s College,” Hermione said. “Both of us. I’m Hermione Granger.”

“And I’m Ginny Weasley, very pleased to meet you both,” Ginny said enthusiastically, shaking first Harry’s and then Neville’s hand.

“Please tell me one of you is starting in paediatrics—I can’t go in there all alone,” Neville said in a small voice.

Ginny jumped right in. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back,” she said, immediately launching into conversation with Neville about their shared specialty. Once again, Hermione envied her friend’s ability to click with strangers so effortlessly.

“Thank God she’s distracting him,” Harry said. “He’s great with children, but completely useless in other social situations.”

“Well, Ginny will help him—she always brings people out of their shells.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Definitely. We met in first year—we were assigned to a project together. I was a total swot, but one day, after hours of studying, Ginny dragged me out of the library for a drink. And we’ve been best friends ever since.”

“She sounds like a great girl,” Harry mused, glancing over at Ginny, who was now patting Neville’s shoulder reassuringly.

“So, what’s your chosen field?” Hermione asked. “I’m here for general surgery—I’ve only heard good things about this place.”

“Oh, I’m headed for surgery too. My godfather actually did his residency here and recommended it to me.”

Their conversation was cut short when a tall, serious-looking man approached the group, stopping before them.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Kings Cross Hospital. My name is Dr Kingsley Shacklebolt, Chief of the Surgical Department and also responsible for our new interns.”

He took a quick look at the clipboard in his hand.

“Granger, Potter, Malfoy—you’re our surgical interns. I’m going to show you around so you can start working as soon as possible.”

Hermione turned to the third young man she hadn’t paid much attention to before. He was tall, thin, and blonde, regarding the scene around him with a sneer. “Malfoy,” she thought. “Rings a bell.”

Shacklebolt’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

„Patil, Zabini,“ Shacklebolt continued, „Ob-Gyn, right?“
Two heads nodded in unison.
„You wait here for Dr McGonagall to pick you up.“

„The two of you,” he said, pointing at Ginny and Neville, “stay right there—Dr Tonks, the head of Paediatrics, will be here any moment.”

Shacklebolt took another look at the list in his hands.

„Lovegood, Chang, Thomas.“ he continued, addressing the remaining three, „Dr Sprout is busy right now, so you best go to the Internal Medicine ward up by yourself and look for someone to show you everything. Third floor.“
He dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

He turned back to Hermione and the two young men next to her.

“If you’d follow me, please—we have a tight schedule.“

Hermione gave Ginny one last quick look and followed her new boss into the unknown.

They took a tour of the Emergency Room, the Surgical Ward, and the clinic, and soon Hermione’s head was spinning with names, directions, and instructions. She had pulled a white coat over her work outfit but still felt extremely out of place as she followed Shacklebolt through the hospital floors.

Their last stop, the operating theatres, was approaching, and Hermione was ecstatic at the thought of finally entering those hallowed grounds again, even if it was just for a quick tour.

Shacklebolt stopped in front of the OR doors, turning around to face the three interns.

“Your rotation starts today. Each of you will be assigned to a senior physician who will be responsible for your training during your first year. Malfoy, you’ve chosen cardiothoracic surgery as your first specialty—I’ll take you to see Dr Snape after our OR tour. Potter, trauma surgery, isn’t it? Dr Lupin is already waiting for you. And Granger, your supervisor will be Dr Black. She’s operating right now, so I’ll take you directly to her.

Hermione was speechless. Dr Bellatrix Black was the head of the General Surgery department and one of the reasons Hermione had chosen King’s Cross for her residency.

She had read dozens of Dr Black’s papers on transplant surgery in various medical journals and was amazed by the sheer amount of knowledge and skill the surgeon possessed. Making a name for herself in such a male-dominated field was something Hermione aspired to, and she deeply admired Black for it.

The prospect of working side by side with the infamous woman filled Hermione with giddy excitement.

Shacklebolt led them to the changing rooms, where Hermione quickly put on some scrubs, struggled to pull a hood over her bushy hair, and grabbed a mask to cover her face.

She exited the changing room and waited for the men to emerge from theirs. Meanwhile, she glanced around—most OR doors were closed, except for the one right in front of her, where snippets of voices carried through the gap. She stepped closer, hoping to catch a quick glance at what was going on inside, when a loud scream made her freeze.

“Get the bloody hell out of my operating room, you absolute moron!”

The voice was female—piercing and furious. A chill ran down Hermione’s spine.

Please, she thought. Lord have mercy, please let that not be Dr Black.

But her hopes were shattered when Shacklebolt suddenly strode past her, his expression thunderous.

He pushed the OR door open just as a young man, his face slick with sweat and speckled with blood, stumbled out, nearly colliding with him.

“Oh my God, Chief Shacklebolt, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened! One second, I was assisting her, and suddenly there was blood everywhere, and she started screaming and threw me out—”

“Calm down, Finnegan,” Shacklebolt said sharply. “Go clean yourself up and report back to the ward. We’ll talk about this later.”

Then he raised his voice, addressing the surgeon.

“Dr Black, if I catch you screaming through my surgical wing one more time, there will be consequences. This is a respectable hospital, and I expect my staff to behave accordingly.”

For the first time, Dr Black looked up from the patient she was operating on, her dark eyes locking onto them.

She looked like war. Strands of pitch-black curls had slipped from beneath her cap, falling messily across her face. Her arms, gloves, and the front of her scrubs were soaked in blood.

“Chief,” she said in a sickly sweet voice. “How nice of you to visit me in my humble workplace. Now, if it wouldn’t bother you too much, how about you scrub in and help me out here, or this man will bleed to death in a matter of minutes? Finnegan, being the imbecile that he is, severed the renal artery. And whoever you are,”—she turned her gaze to Hermione, who was still standing beside Shacklebolt, frozen under the surgeon’s intense stare—“we need a third pair of hands. Quickly.”

Hermione opened her mouth to introduce herself, but the woman cut her off before she could utter a word.

“Whatever you have to say, I don’t care. The only fact I care about is that this patient has already lost 1.5 litres of blood, so move your arse to the table.”

Hermione hurried after Shacklebolt, who was already scrubbing in. He barked orders at Harry and Malfoy, telling them to find their respective supervisors, and then turned back to the sink.

Hermione felt her nerves tingling with a mix of anticipation and dread. Being thrown in at the deep end wasn’t how she had imagined her first day at work.

“Well, here goes nothing,” she thought as she stepped into the territory of Dr Bellatrix Black.

Chapter Text

Hermione felt as if a ton of bricks had been lifted off her as she carefully placed the bandage over the patient’s abdomen. He had made it out alive—and so had she.

Dr Black had stormed out of the OR the second the last suture was placed, leaving Hermione to dress the massive wound herself. She was grateful for the instructions of the scrub nurse, who told her exactly what to do.

Standing at the operating table with Black had been both a revelation and an enormous disappointment. A revelation, because watching the woman at work felt like witnessing a well-oiled machine in action—handling the dire situation with skilled, effortless perfection. A disappointment, because what she possessed in expertise, she clearly lacked in basic human decency.

Hermione’s fingers were still tender from where Black had smacked her with the forceps whenever her hands entered the surgeon’s field of vision.

“Be glad it wasn’t the scalpel,” was the only thing she had said in response to Hermione’s pain-filled whimper.

Her back ached, and her scrubs were sweaty, clinging to her like a scratchy second skin. Sighing, Hermione stepped away from the table and went looking for her supervisor. Shacklebolt had left the OR once the patient was stable—about an hour ago—and she was at a loss as to where to go next.

She found Black at the sink outside the OR, washing her hands and face. Hermione stepped up behind her. As Black raised her head from under the stream of water, Hermione saw her face without a mask for the first time, and her heart did a little involuntary somersault.

The woman’s black eyes were striking on their own, but combined with plump red lips, a straight, elegant nose, and high cheekbones, she looked nothing like Hermione had imagined. Less academic, more… savage.

“Stop staring at her,” Hermione chided herself and tore her gaze away just as Black turned to face her.

“Granger, isn’t it?”

Hermione could only nod, her tongue suddenly feeling impossibly heavy and dry inside her mouth.

“You should thank Finnegan for being an incompetent little shit,” Black drawled lazily. “I would never take a first-year intern to the table with me, so feel blessed. You won’t see the OR again for some time, pet. I hope you enjoyed it.”

Without another word, Black turned and strode off.

“Wait,” Hermione called after the senior surgeon, disbelief evident in her voice. “What do you mean I won’t be here for a long time? You’re my assigned supervisor—I’m here to train under you. How am I supposed to do that outside the OR?”

Was this woman being serious?

Very slowly, Black turned back and started approaching Hermione like an apex predator stalking its prey. Under the lethal stare of those dark eyes, Hermione felt oh so small.

“Supposed to train under me?” Black mimicked Hermione’s words in the same disdainful voice she had used with Chief Shacklebolt earlier. “You—” she stabbed Hermione’s chest with a long, pale finger, “are an intern. You are good for nothing. You are nothing. You will do rounds, you will write progress notes, and you will do endless shifts in the ER—all of that for as often and as long as I tell you to. And if I’m correct in my assumptions about you—and I usually am—this hospital will spit your pathetic, impertinent arse out before you even set foot in my OR again.”

By now, Hermione’s eyes were burning with unshed tears, her heart racing.

“And if I’m wrong,” Black continued with a cruel grin, “if I’m wrong, and you actually make it back here again…” She leaned in closer, breaching Hermione’s personal space, her voice now a lethal whisper. “Then I will crush you like a bug.”

With that, Black took off again, leaving Hermione alone in the hallway of the operating suite. Only when the black-haired woman was out of sight did Hermione allow the tears to fall.

—————————————————-

“What a bitch,” Ginny muttered, her mouth half-full of grilled chicken sandwich. Hermione had made them a quick dinner, too exhausted to cook after her first day at King’s Cross.

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed, her own food still untouched on her plate. “But a very influential bitch who has me totally at her mercy for the next few years.”

“You just have to ignore her,” Ginny stated, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Hermione snorted. “Have you met the woman? That’s like suggesting I ignore a tsunami or a truck running me over.”

Ginny walked over to the fridge, took out a bottle of white wine, and poured them both a glass before sitting down in front of Hermione again.

“Shame you’re not in Peds with me. Dr Tonks is the coolest—not authoritarian at all. It’s more like having a friend than a boss.”

Hermione took a large gulp of wine, enjoying the slight burn in her throat and the warmth spreading in her belly.

“The thought of facing her again tomorrow makes me sick, Gin. I can’t believe she’s the person I idolised so much.”

“Maybe you won’t see her at all, huh? Remember she said you wouldn’t see the OR again any time soon? Maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. I mean, there must be some nice surgeons somewhere in that hospital. That guy Harry, for example… I could imagine getting friendly with him.” Ginny grinned, her freckled face alight with mischief.

“Maybe you should get acquainted with the work first before jumping some poor guy in his first week,” Hermione laughed.

“A girl can dream,” Ginny replied, laughing as she emptied her glass in one large gulp.

————————————————————-

Usually, Hermione considered handling new environments and situations one of her strong suits, but the emergency department of King’s Cross was something else.

The cacophony of sirens, beeping monitors, and the voices of patients and staff alike made her ears ring and her head spin.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!” someone yelled, and Hermione jumped aside just in time to avoid being hit by a gurney pushed through the entrance by two paramedics.

“Thirty-six, female, car crash, open femur fracture, free fluid in the abdominal cavity, GCS ten.”

“Bay four, Dr Black,” the triage nurse called before pointing at Hermione. “Newbie, go and assist with this one. You gotta learn the ropes.”

“Not Dr Black, please,” Hermione whispered to herself, all hopes of avoiding the hostile woman crushed. Nevertheless, the job was the job, so she hurried over to bay four and drew back the curtain—only to come face to face with a male doctor crouching over the crash victim. He was speaking softly to her while simultaneously barking orders at the nurses scurrying around the bed.

“Excuse me,” Hermione said, trying her best to mask the slight quiver in her voice. “I was sent to assist Dr Black. Where can I find her?”

The male doctor turned, flashing her a rather cheeky smile.

“Looking for me, doll? Well, I’m obviously not the Black you were expecting.” He grinned. Seeing the sheer relief on Hermione’s face, he added, “Clearly, you’ve met my dear cousin. Dreadful woman, I know, but don’t worry—I’m much more appreciative of interns.

Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of the man and his slightly inappropriate behaviour, but she would take a bit of workplace flirting over another encounter with Dr Black any day.

“Hermione Granger. I’m the new surgical intern, it’s my first shift. How can I help?”

The next few hours were a blur of examining and stitching up patients with all kinds of ailments. Though Hermione didn’t exactly love the flood of people pouring through the entrance doors, the other Dr Black—or Sirius, as he had ordered her to call him—was a much more approachable instructor than his brusque cousin.

“She really had her way with you, didn’t she?” Sirius asked during their lunch break, causing Hermione to almost choke on her coffee.

“Pardon me, what?” she spluttered, feeling a flush creeping up her neck.

“Relax, doll, I meant she obviously scared you in some way. You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you asked for Dr Black earlier.”

“We had a rough start, yes, but I doubt she’ll even remember the encounter.”

But I will never forget it, Hermione thought to herself.

Sirius chuckled, though the sound lacked any humour.

“She remembers everything—anything anyone has ever said or done to her.”

He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, staring blankly at the wall behind Hermione.

“That’s why she’s the best, I suppose, and she knows it.” He paused for a second. “And boy, does she make you feel it,” he added quietly.

Hermione made a firm mental note to stay clear of Bellatrix Black.

And if that meant hiding in the emergency room forever, then so be it.

Chapter Text

Hermione’s worries about never seeing the OR again dissolved during another ER shift in her second week. A young woman with a perforated appendix required emergency surgery, and Seamus Finnigan, a nice but very nervous second-year resident, had called in sick that morning. Rumor had it that he had another confrontation with Dr. Black during an operation the day before, and Hermione felt nothing but sympathy for her colleague.

“Granger, they’re short-staffed up in the OR. Be a dear and scrub in with Dr. Moody for the appendectomy that just came in. And come back down once you’re done,” Sirius called to her from across the room, where he was stitching up a gash on a three-year-old’s head.

Hermione felt ecstatic. She didn’t really know Dr. Moody, but assisting in a surgery with anyone other than her counted as a win in her book.

She climbed the stairs to the operating wing on the first floor, a slight spring in her step.

“I should quickly read up on the procedure in the changing room,” she muttered to herself, knowing all too well that many senior physicians liked to quiz their interns during operations.

Absentmindedly, Hermione pushed open the changing room door—only to freeze in place.

She was there. Dr. Black. Her back was turned to Hermione, and she was in the middle of putting on her scrub top, her white coat already neatly hung on the wall beside her.

Hermione’s eyes were glued to the sliver of pale, porcelain-like skin and the hint of black lace barely visible before Black pulled the shirt all the way down.

She could feel the blood roaring in her ears, her body frozen in place like a gazelle facing a lion.

Dr. Black, who, for some miraculous reason, still hadn’t noticed the young intern, proceeded to gather her mass of black curls on top of her head, exposing a long, slender neck to Hermione’s prying eyes.

A sudden, unfamiliar heat washed over Hermione. Her legs felt like jelly, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

I have to do something. Now.

“Uh—sorry, hello,” Hermione squeaked, her voice completely foreign to her own ears—high-pitched and mouse-like.

Dr. Black spun around, her dark gaze locking onto Hermione.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. The little intern who’s particularly… dedicated.”

She emphasized the last word as though it were an insult. But then, recognition flickered across her face, her previously condescending expression shifting into one of anger.

She remembers our last encounter, Hermione thought, dread pooling in her stomach, replacing the heat from just moments before.

“Wait, what the hell are you—” Black started, before being interrupted by the sharp ringing of her phone.

Saved by the bell.

“Black,” the woman barked into the receiver.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense. Shacklebolt basically forced me to cover for Moody on this next procedure. Me, doing a bloody appendectomy. Can you imagine? As if I were some kind of amateur, doing the mucky work while he sits on his arse all day.”

Hermione felt completely out of place eavesdropping on the call. But when she realized what Black was implying, her heart dropped.

Please, not again.

“Yeah, whatever. Do what you want with that patient—I don’t give a damn.”

Black ended the call and practically threw her phone into her locker, the sound of metal clashing against metal echoing through the room.

“What are you even doing here, Granger?” she hissed, turning back to face Hermione, who still hadn’t moved a muscle since entering the changing room. “Didn’t I assign you to cover surgical ER shifts? And didn’t I tell you to stay the hell away from my OR?” Her tone grew more dangerous with each word.

“Um—I’m sorry, ma’am, but Dr. Black—not you, obviously, but your cousin, Sirius—said I should scrub in for the appendectomy,” Hermione rambled, feeling like a fool under the older woman’s sharp gaze. “He told me to cover for Dr. Finnigan since he called in sick today.”

“Finnigan is an idiot. He should just stay home for the rest of his residency,” Dr. Black snarled. “And since when does my bloody cousin have any say over what my interns do?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Black, I—”

“Shut up,” the woman snapped. “Just put on the damn scrubs and don’t say another word. Or so help me God, I’ll fire you myself.”

———————————————-

“Well, You’re not a complete idiot, Granger,” Dr. Black said after the surgery, while they finished cleaning up at the sink outside the OR.

Hermione’s heartbeat picked up. She wasn’t as indifferent to the woman’s opinion of her as she liked to pretend.

“I’m so happy I got to assist you, Dr. Black. It’s really been an honor. I just wanted to ask if—”

Black silenced her with a single pointed look.

“I hate stupid questions just as much as I hate ass-kissing, Granger.”

And with that, she was gone.

A blush—this time fueled by fury rather than embarrassment—crept up Hermione’s face. Her fists clenched at her sides. She had no idea how she managed to suppress the urge to strangle the older woman.

————————————————

Hermione’s footsteps echoed down the quiet halls of the surgical ward.

At this hour, it was completely empty—patients fast asleep, the night-shift nurses nowhere to be seen.

A flicker of light seeped through a gap in the door to the call room at the end of the hallway, a shadow dancing in the beam of light cast on the greyish hospital floor.

She was the only doctor on call tonight. Who else would be in there?

Slowly, Hermione approached the door, peering through the narrow gap.

A woman stood inside. It was her silhouette that had cast the shadows Hermione had noticed. She was in the middle of undressing, slowly pulling her white button-down shirt over her head, exposing a toned back and flawless, milky-white skin.

Hermione felt like a creep. But she just couldn’t look away.

The warm light of the small bedside lamp illuminated the woman’s body, accentuating the way strands of dark hair cascaded down her back, creating an alluring contrast against her porcelain skin.

Hermione’s legs moved of their own accord, carrying her through the door.

With a soft click, she shut it behind her.

The woman whirled around.

It was her.

Blazing black eyes. Unruly dark curls. Blood-red lips.

Bellatrix Black.

Before Hermione could form an excuse for spying on her supervisor, the woman closed the distance between them, pinning her against the door, strong hands gripping Hermione’s arms like steel.

“My, my… what do we have here?” she whispered, her voice sultrier than Hermione had ever heard it.

“I didn’t think you could get any more pathetic, Granger, but here you are—spying on your boss while she undresses.”

Black’s breath was warm against Hermione’s ear. A shiver ran down her spine.

A whimper escaped Hermione’s lips as the older woman pressed closer, her partially undressed body flush against hers.

“Naughty girl,” Black murmured, and Hermione could feel her nipples stiffening beneath her thin cotton shirt and a molten heat beginning to pool between her legs. She fought the desperate urge to grind herself against the other woman, craving friction.

„Please.“ Hermione croaked, her head spinning with the strange sensation.
She didn’t know what she was asking of Black, wasn’t even sure wether she wanted the other woman to stop.

„Let’s see how eager to please you really are, pet.“

Hermione woke with a start.

A fucking wet dream.

This can’t be happening.

But the aching heat between her legs was real.

No one had ever occupied her mind and body like this. There had been sexual encounters, of course, but far and few between. Sex had always been… routine. Something she’d done because it was expected of her at some point. But her heart, or god forbid her head were never really into it. Never had she felt this consumed by the thought of another person.

But Hermione’s resolve was ironclad.

Whatever these absurd fantasies were, she would nip them in the bud.

Nothing would distract her from her work—or deter her from her goals.

Especially not someone as disagreeable as Bellatrix Black.

———————————————

“What’s gotten your knickers in a twist?” Ginny asked Hermione over their shared morning coffee.

Hermione had been unusually quiet, and Ginny always had a knack for sensing when something was on her friend’s mind.

“Just a stupid dream,” Hermione murmured, feeling a blush creep up her face.

Get a grip, Granger. You’re not some bloody teenager.

“Care to share?”

“It really wasn’t anything. Just Dr. Black pestering me about something at work.”

If that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

“Look, Mione, I get it. She’s a bitch, and you can’t get rid of her. But you can’t spend all your time sulking or complaining about her. Either you talk to her, or you find another way to get it out of your system.”

“Yeah, as if talking to her would work. She’d kick me out arse over kettle, and there goes my career as a surgeon.”

“Okay, getting it out of our systems it is.” Ginny suddenly jumped up from her chair, a suspicious grin spreading across her face.
“Make sure you leave work on time tonight, Mione.”

Chapter Text

“Another round for you ladies,” the waiter said, placing a couple of shots in front of them.

Parvati and Ginny cheered, while Hermione groaned internally.

When Ginny had suggested getting the Dr. Black-shaped problem out of her system, Hermione had considered a spinning class or an afternoon spent in a rage room.

But drinking with the other interns in some run-down pub next to the hospital wasn’t exactly what she considered an evening well spent.

“Oh, come on, Mione,” Ginny shouted over the music blasting from the speakers and the chatter of the other patrons.
She had spotted Hermione’s eye roll and was hell-bent on making her enjoy the evening, pushing a shot in her direction.

Begrudgingly, Hermione took the glass and emptied it in one gulp, earning a cheer from Ginny, Parvati, and Cho.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” Cho said. “Sprout is nice and all, but she’s running me and Luna into the ground, isn’t she?” She nudged the blonde girl next to her with her elbow. Luna had yet to say anything, observing the scenery around her instead.

“Cho’s right,” Luna said nonchalantly. “But we haven’t got it as bad as Hermione.”

“Yeah,” Parvati added, a sympathetic look on her face. “Even the labor nurses talk about Dr. Black. Apparently, a couple of months ago, one of the OB/GYN residents had to call her during a C-section because they injured the intestine. First, Black made the resident cry—and then the scrub nurse, because she handed her the wrong suture.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” Hermione pleaded. The mention of the dark-haired woman reminded her of her dream the night before, and she couldn’t even allow herself to go there again.

“Okay, let’s change the topic, ladies,” Ginny announced, eyeing the other girls. “The boys will be here soon.”

Just on cue, the pub door opened, revealing Harry with a nervous-looking Neville and a bulky, blonde man in tow.

“Sorry we’re late,” Harry announced, his glasses fogging in the stifling air of the pub.
“But we brought Cormac along with us.” He pointed to the blonde guy next to him and Neville. Hermione had seen him before but couldn’t place him right away.

“He’s in trauma surgery, one year ahead of us.”

Cormac gave a quick wave to the group before sitting down in a chair next to Hermione. He had a pleasantly firm handshake and a boyish smile as he addressed her.

“Cormac McLaggen, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Hermione, likewise,” she replied. “I’ve seen you down in the ER a couple of times.”

Whatever Cormac wanted to reply was drowned out by the cheer of the group when the next round of shots arrived.

As the evening turned into night, Harry and Cormac ordered one round after another, and Hermione got properly sloshed in the process.
The pressure of the last couple of days was taking its toll, and she was in desperate need of distraction.

Anything to erase the image of those burning, dark eyes that entered her mind repeatedly, making her skin break out in goosebumps.

Hermione tried to tell herself that it was probably because of that pressure that she followed an equally drunk Cormac to the middle of the small dance floor, grinding against the young man, who responded rather enthusiastically.

Anything to get her mind off… things.

That’s probably why she found herself snogging Cormac McLaggen in the back of the pub before being dragged home by a surprisingly sober Ginny.

⸻

The next morning came with an agonizing headache for Hermione.

Groaning, she dragged herself out of bed and slowly made her way out of her room and toward their shared bathroom at the end of the hallway.

After a quick shower, which made her feel only marginally better, she found herself in the flat’s small kitchen, face-to-face with Ginny, who looked like the cat that got the canary.

“Don’t even start,” Hermione groaned, pouring herself a large mug of coffee before slumping down on the closest chair.

“When I said get it out of your system, that wasn’t exactly what I meant, but you go, girl.”

“Shut it, I feel awful. It’s totally not like me to get drunk and make out with some guy I don’t even know.”

“There’s no shame in that. You’re stressed out, Mione, and basically celibate. Sometimes, nothing does the trick quite like a good fu—”

“Don’t say it, Ginny, just don’t.”

⸻

Working the ER hungover was something Hermione wouldn’t wish upon her worst enemy. The bright lights, combined with the deafening noise, assaulted her senses, and the aspirin she had taken did nothing to dull her throbbing headache.

“Rough night?” Sirius asked her later while she rummaged around in the break room to find another painkiller.

“Yeah, I was stupid enough to go to the pub with the guys from trauma.”

Sirius barked out a laugh.
“Consider it a lesson learned, doll. But it’s a good idea to spend some time with the other interns. Having a team you can rely on is essential if you want to do that kind of job we’re doing here. Any chance Harry had been part of the revelry?”

“Oh yes, he’s partially to blame for the state of me,” Hermione replied, chuckling softly.
“But apart from that, he’s a great guy. The other surgical intern, Malfoy, on the other hand, I don’t even know anything about him. He’s always up in the OR with Dr. Snape, doing valves and bypasses and stuff.”
She sighed. “Must be nice to have your supervisor give a damn about you.”

“You’ll get your OR time, don’t worry. Bellatrix is like a cat; she likes to play with her food a bit. Once you’ve proven your worth, she’ll give you what you want.”

“And if I don’t? Prove my worth, I mean?”

The pitiful look Sirius gave her made her heart drop.

Let’s not let it come to this, Hermione thought, a flicker of her former determination coming through.

Their conversation was cut short by Cedric, one of Hermione’s favorite ER nurses, opening the door to the break room.

“Sorry to bother you, but we just had an 8-month-old come in with the paramedics—uncontrollable fever, we need you guys out there.”

⸻

Sirius was dead serious when he told Hermione to page Pediatrics stat.

“We need them down here right now, this doesn’t look good,” he said, giving a concerned look to the small girl lying lethargically in the arms of her worried father.

A couple of minutes later, a tall, imposing woman blazed into the ER.

“Andy, thank God you’re here,” Sirius greeted her.
“8-month-old girl, high fever since last night, lethargy, vomiting…”

“And petechiae,” the woman whispered, eying the little girl’s arm, which was covered in little red dots.

“Looks like meningitis,” she and Hermione said in unison.

The woman turned around to face Hermione, an intrigued look on her face.

“Andromeda Tonks, pediatrician,” she said curtly, offering a small smile to the young intern before turning back to her patient.

“We need to do a lumbar puncture,” she said to no one in particular.
“You’re an intern, aren’t you?”

Hermione gave a hasty nod. She was aware that this was the Chief of Pediatrics, who, although being described as “super-duper chill” by Ginny, still commanded a lot of respect.

“Want to assist me?”

Hermione, of course, wanted to do just that, and so she found herself in sterile gear next to Dr. Tonks a few minutes later, just as her phone started to ring.

“Could you please pick it up for me and tell them I’m busy right now?” she asked Cedric, who was currently opening a package of syringes needed for the procedure. He answered her phone, only to turn slightly pale seconds later.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Hermione, but whoever that was wasn’t happy with you being busy right now.” He said, and Hermione was just about to ask who the caller was when the door behind her flung open.

“Granger!” someone yelled, and Hermione broke out in a cold sweat.

Dr. Tonks looked up from where she was trying to put the needle in the little girl’s back, an exasperated look on her face.

“Would you tone it down a bit, Bella? Little Alice here has just calmed down.”

Bella?
“Don’t tell me what to do, Andy, I’m looking for her,” Black snarled, shooting Hermione a furious look.

“Little Miss Perfect here had better things to do than pick up her phone for her bloody boss,” she practically spat, making Hermione tremble.

Before she could defend herself, Dr. Tonks stepped in.

“Miss Granger here was so kind as to assist me with a lumbar puncture, Bella. I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Hermione was sure that all the staff and patients serving as potential witnesses were the only reason Dr. Black didn’t murder Dr. Tonks on the spot. Her pale face was twisted with fury, small specks of red appearing on her high cheekbones.

“She’s my fucking intern, and I decide what she does, when she does it, and with whom she does it.”
She turned to address Hermione with a murderous look.

“My office, 10 minutes. God help you if you’re even a minute late.”

With that, she stormed out through the same door she came through.

“Good riddance,” Tonks murmured behind her.
“Sorry, Miss Granger, my sister really is a piece of work.”

Hermione wasn’t able to comprehend the fact that the two doctors were sisters, because the only thing on her mind were three words, uttered in that deep, rich voice, echoing in her head over and over.

She’s my intern.

Mine

“I’m so screwed.”

⸻

“Fancy meeting you here, Granger.”

Cormac was leaning against the doorway Hermione just wanted to pass to reach the elevator to Black’s office on the fifth floor. His bulky frame was blocking the path, and Hermione felt a burst of annoyance despite the charming grin plastered across his face.
She was far too nervous to care about his attempt at flirting. If she was late, Black would have her head.

“Hi, Cormac,” she mumbled as a reply, not even bothering to fake enthusiasm. “Could you please let me pass? I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“Sure, babe, as soon as I get your number.”

“I really don’t have time for that right now,” she pleaded.

She didn’t even know exactly where the older woman’s office was, and time was running out.

“Come on, Hermione, it’s going to take you just one moment and I’ll be out of your hair.” His confidence wasn’t wavering for a second.

Hermione quickly ran through possible detours to the fifth floor in her head, but there was no option as quick as the one right in front of her.

Time to call it quits.

“Hand me your phone,” she sighed, quickly entering her number.

His grin broadened, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a bit flattered. She gave the young man a thin smile before handing his mobile back and dashing past him toward the elevator.

“I’ll text you,” he yelled after her.

⸻

Hermione knocked on Black’s office with about one minute to spare. Her breath was coming in short gasps. The elevator hadn’t arrived in time; apparently, it had been used for an emergency transport and was stuck somewhere on the third floor.
So Hermione had to run the stairs up to the fifth floor, which, with sports not exactly being her strong suit, resulted in her being beet red in the face, sweat clinging to her neck, and her heart racing.

“What a way to make a good impression,” was Hermione’s disheartened thought just before a clipped “Enter” came from behind the dark wooden door.

Black lounged on a high-winged chair behind her impressive desk. She had dropped her white coat unceremoniously on the back of the chair, revealing her private attire to Hermione’s curious eyes.
She had obviously composed herself after the encounter with her sister in the ER, because the look she gave Hermione was all nonchalance.

The young woman meanwhile had never seen her boss out of the usual hospital clothing, which were either baggy scrubs or a white shirt and trousers. Due to this her useless brain and racing heart were unable to comprehend the amount of cleavage her bosses black silk blouse exposed.

“Granger,” Black drawled, breaking Hermione out of her inappropriate thoughts about the other woman. “You’re late.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and Hermione could swear that her heart was free-falling from her chest onto the expensive Persian rug that covered the floor of the surgeon’s office.

“I can explain, Dr. Black—”

“Shut it. I don’t care why you’re late, I only care that you are. You’ve just won yourself the Saturday night shift, for disrespecting me like this down in the ER.“

Hermione’s attempt to protest was stopped by the older woman’s threatening look.

“Of course, ma’am. I’m very sorry.”

“The surgical clinic is behind on scientific contributions,” Black stated out of nowhere, as if she was talking about something that wasn’t really concerning her.

“I’m basically the only one in our department, apart from Shacklebolt maybe, who’s published anything of relevance lately. And because of that, the Chief wants interns,” she spat the word like a curse, “to assist in research, writing reviews, etc.”

Now Blacks eyes were back on Hermione, who was still rooted to her spot in front of the desk. She looked the younger woman up and down, a flash of curiosity peeking through the annoyance in her eyes.

“I looked at your records. Obviously, you were quite the swot in med school, passing with flying colors and everything. What a clever girl.”

Hermione’s breath quickened as she heard the woman speak those words, fire erupting in her belly.

What is she doing to me?

Black got up and marched toward her, her heels clicking on the floor. They gave her about three inches on Hermione, and the girl had to crane her neck as her boss stood in front of her, looking down on her like a queen addressing one of her subjects.

“The chief wants you to assist me with my research,” she stated, standing so close that Hermione could feel her warm breath in her face.

“At first, I wanted to tell him to fuck off, obviously. But now that I know you’re such a little brown-noser,” she stepped even closer, leaning down, her low voice only a whisper in Hermione’s ear, “and in dire need of learning some discipline, I decided to take him up on his little offer.”

Hermione did her best to stifle the groan that rose in her throat, a pathetic whimper escaping her lips instead.

Black straightened herself, and Hermione almost whimpered again at the loss of contact.

„But if you ever ignore one of my calls in favor of doing grunt work for another specialty again, then thats not only the end of your scientific career, but of your residency.“

Black’s eyes were back to gleaming with malice, instead of the heat Hermione had spotted there just a moment before. It was like a bucket of ice water being poured over her head.

„Of course, ma‘am.“

“I will email you the details. You can go.”

She turned around, dismissing Hermione with a wave of her hand.

Before the girl could close the door, Black’s rich voice called out from behind her.

“By the way, I’m your senior on call Saturday night, Granger. And if you make me come here in the middle of the night for some foolish nonsense, youre going to regret it.”

Chapter Text

21:14
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: To do

Granger,

There’s a list of last year’s transplant cases attached. I need their post-op course, labs, antibiotics, meds, and follow-up data summarized in an Excel sheet by Monday. My office at 8.

“Probably would’ve killed her to sign the bloody email,” Hermione muttered to herself.

With a sigh, she opened the attached file. There were at least 50 patients on the list her boss expected her to work through by Monday. Hermione buried her face in her hands, letting out a frustrated groan.

After the unsettling encounter she had had with Black, her initial skepticism had morphed into tentative excitement at the thought of doing research with a doctor as renowned in the scientific field as her boss. Plus, she hadn’t had another dream, so maybe she was finally cured of whatever strange affliction had befallen her.

But now, faced with this enormous workload, she wondered if all of it was really worth it. Her boss was probably the most irritable person in the entire country, and to top it off, it was already half past nine on a Thursday evening. This was bound to be catastrophic for her sleep schedule and overall mental health.

“Well, no use complaining. Guess I’ll be doing overtime for the next couple of days.”

Hermione’s phone chimed from inside her bag, which lay on the other side of her room. She closed her old laptop, got up from her desk, and fished her mobile out of the pocket of the jeans she had thrown into a corner as soon as she got home earlier that evening.

21:32
From: Unknown number

Hi, you up for some drinks tonight?? We could finish what we started ;)

Cormac

The absolute last thing she needed tonight was getting buzzed again—especially not with Cormac. Now, being sober, she had no idea what the hell had possessed her when she let him stick his tongue in her mouth the other night. He wasn’t even her type, for Pete’s sake.

Hermione ignored the nagging voice inside her head, the one that told her she knew exactly what kind of person she’d rather be snogging.

Deciding she was in dire need of some ice cream and a chat with her best friend, she tossed her phone onto her bed without answering the message.

She exited her room in search of Ginny—only to stumble directly into a half-undressed Harry, coming out of her flatmate’s room.

“Ahem, oh, hi, Hermione. Good to see you… here,” he stammered, unable to meet her eyes.

“Harry.” Her deadpan response was followed by her pushing him aside to glance into Ginny’s room. Her friend lay on her bed, dressed in a skimpy robe, grinning at her broadly.

Unbelievable.

“Told ya, I know how to unwind,” Ginny snickered, making Harry utter an embarrassed groan.
———————————————-

Saturday evening found Hermione in the emergency room’s break room with Cedric, two other nurses, and a very exhausted-looking Cho, who had just finished her day shift and was hanging around for some small talk before heading home.

Hermione’s shift officially started at 8 pm., but she had arrived at the hospital in the morning. Instead of getting some much-needed rest before her night shift, she had spent the entire day hunched over patient files, furiously typing into the Excel sheet Black had ordered her to create—until the fan of her hand-me-down laptop was buzzing like a starting jumbo jet.

Now, after a 20-minute nap and three cups of coffee, she was ready to go home—but her shift had only just started and wouldn’t be over for another 12 hours.

At last, the day team waved her off, including Sirius, who handed her the surgery pager and informed her that Dr. Black was now her on-call senior. (Or, as he put it: “You’re in God’s hands now, doll.”)

Bloody great.

The ER didn’t give her a single break until well after midnight. The number of pub brawls was staggering, even for a Saturday night. So far, Hermione had stitched up five head lacerations, handed over two fractured jaws to her colleague from oral surgery, and assessed a broken wrist, which she sent off to a still-mortified-looking Harry, who took the patient up to the OR right away.

Hermione made a mental note to talk to him later, to assure him that the whole thing wasn’t a big deal—as long as he treated Ginny right.
Maybe she should also mention Ginny’s six older brothers…

Her thoughts were interrupted by her pager going off.

Fuck. An emergency call.

She dashed out of the break room just in time to see the paramedics arrive with an agitated-looking man writhing on the gurney.

“Sixty, acute abdomen, BP 90 over 50, heart rate 100.”

He’s in shock, Hermione thought, hastily trying to decide on a course of action, forcing her sleep-deprived brain to work at full capacity.

The nurses and paramedics were looking at her expectantly. Right—she was the doctor. She had to call the shots.

“Um, alright, bay four. Hang a liter of saline and do some bloodwork, stat,” Hermione said, her voice laced with false confidence. She desperately hoped no one could see her inner turmoil—especially not the patient.

“Mr. Brown, my name is Dr. Granger. I just need to examine your abdomen real quick,” she said carefully.

“It hurts so much,” the man whispered, his hands instinctively going to his belly.

Hermione took off the patient’s shirt with Cedric’s help… and froze in shock.

The man’s belly was grotesquely distended, his skin a sickly blue—a stark contrast to his ashen face.

“Page Dr. Black, stat,” Hermione told Cedric, who only shot her an apologetic look.

“I already called her the minute the patient came through, love.”

Speaking of the devil, the woman chose that very moment to storm through the doors. Her black hair was loose, flaring around her face like a halo. Apart from that, she looked impeccable, Hermione thought, staring at her boss like she’d seen a ghost.

How does she manage to look so good in the middle of the bloody night?

“Present,” the woman barked, snapping Hermione’s attention back to the situation.

“Um, 60-year-old patient presenting with abdominal pain, vitals suggest shock, I was about to order a CT scan—”

“Fuck the CT,” Black snarled, pushing Hermione aside and grabbing the ultrasound machine next to the patient’s bed. Without even introducing herself, she placed the probe on the man’s abdomen, a furious gleam in her black eyes as she turned the screen toward Hermione.

Blood.
There was blood everywhere inside the man’s belly.

“If you want him to die down in radiology, a CT sounds like a bloody great idea,” Black snapped, her voice getting louder with every word. Hermione broke out in a cold sweat. The patient’s eyes went wide with panic.

“I don’t wanna die, please—”

“Granger, prep him for exploratory surgery. Type and cross, another liter of saline, and get your ass up to the OR.”
————————————
They ended up operating on the patient well into the early morning hours.

After suctioning nearly two liters of blood from his abdominal cavity, Dr. Black discovered perforated stomach and duodenal ulcers, each the size of a fifty-pence coin.

Apart from the occasional command, the woman hadn’t spoken a word to Hermione throughout the entire surgery—but Hermione didn’t care. She was still in shock from how the whole situation had unfolded, guilty conscience and self-doubt gnawing at her.

At first, she had been mad at Cedric for paging Dr. Black over her head, but now she silently thanked whatever higher power had made sure her boss arrived before things went south.

Dr. Black was a force of nature. Her hands moved at high speed, stitching up the patient’s intestines as if she had been put on this earth for that sole purpose. And when she finished the skin suture, all that remained of the giant wound was a thin line—as if the whole thing had never even happened.

In stark contrast to her earlier outburst in the ER, she was deadly calm now, her hands steady and her eyes laser-focused on the task at hand.

Hermione watched her in a constant mixture of fear, awe… and something else she wasn’t quite able—or ready—to name.

————————————————-

The aftermath of the operation found the two women back in the ER’s break room.

Hermione sat on the worn-out leather couch—the one that was usually everyone’s favorite nap spot—but sleep couldn’t have been further from her mind. A restless anxiety had settled in her stomach, making her bounce her knee up and down, the soles of her sneakers creating a repetitive tapping sound against the floor.

From the other side of the room, Dr. Black shot her an irritated look. She nursed a steaming cup of coffee in an equally scuffed-up armchair and had yet to say a word to Hermione.

In the pale early morning light filtering through the windows, she looked tired, drained… and almost human to Hermione.

“Stop the fidgeting, Granger. I can hear your thoughts from here.”

Hermione snorted, frustration and fatigue loosening her tongue in front of her superior.

“You’re one to talk. I just watched you save someone who almost bit the dust because of me.”

Black rolled her eyes, turning to Hermione with an exasperated sigh.

“You surely didn’t force him to smoke and drink for twenty years. This wasn’t on you. Also, you won’t get everything right all the time, Granger, and the sooner you accept that, the fewer headaches you’ll give yourself.”

“But I could’ve killed him with my actions.”

“And so could I,” Black replied. She didn’t meet Hermione’s eyes, but her tone lacked its usual venom as she continued.

“I probably shouldn’t have let you handle your first night shift alone. You’ve been working here for what, eight weeks?”

“Seven,” Hermione whispered, confused by her boss’s unexpected admission. Exhaustion was catching up to her, and she felt the telltale sting of tears forming in her eyes.

“It’s a constant battle, Granger, and you’ve got to crush that self-doubt before it gets in the way of your work.” Black’s voice was lower now, more measured. If she noticed Hermione’s tears, she didn’t comment on them.

“Self-doubt is the number one killer of success. This place is a shark tank, and if anyone so much as senses weakness, they will try to destroy you.”

Her boss discarded her now-empty mug into the sink before approaching Hermione, who had officially lost the battle of holding back her tears.

She felt the warmth of a hand squeeze her shoulder before she could even register that Dr. Black was standing next to her.

“Pull yourself together, pet. Chin up. And never let them see you cry.”

And with that, she was gone—leaving Hermione exhausted, sad, and more confused than ever.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were a blur of too much work and too little sleep for Hermione. When she wasn’t on call or working a shift in the ER, she was hunched over patient files, typing away on her laptop, or running errands for her boss.

Unfortunately, Dr. Black didn’t give a damn if Hermione had just finished an exhausting night shift or if it was her day off. When her boss called—or emailed—the intern had to run or face the wrath of the older doctor.

“This has to stop, y’know,” an annoyed Ginny told Hermione after finding her asleep on her laptop keyboard for the third time that week.

“You look like crap,” Ginny continued. “Seriously, she’s treating you like her personal slave instead of her research assistant. Just tell the old hag you need a day off and get some sleep.”

“Sure thing, Gin,” Hermione muttered tiredly. “Or I could just chop off my own hand. That would be an even faster way to ruin my career.”

“She’s not the center of the universe, Mione. Don’t let her walk all over you.”

With that, Ginny left the room, leaving Hermione to her own devices.

Ginny wasn’t wrong, and Hermione knew it. She was in a constant state of exhaustion, and the small amount of kindness Black had shown her after their shift a few weeks ago had obviously been a one-time thing. These days, her boss seemed more focused on tearing apart Hermione’s scientific writing, and switching between yelling at her and ignoring her for hours while they worked together in the OR.

Assisting Black on transplant surgeries was probably the only redeeming aspect of the job. Those procedures were fascinating, and Hermione knew most interns—or even residents—would sell their souls for the chance to scrub in on one. But spending long hours holding retractors while running on only three or four hours of sleep wasn’t something she could handle for much longer.

With a groan, Hermione got up from her desk and collapsed into bed. It was already 2 a.m., and she was expected to present her part of the paper to Black in the morning.

Her phone chimed from its place on the bedside table, and she picked it up with a trembling hand, squinting at the bright display.

My office, tomorrow at eight. Don’t be late. -B

⸻

The stale taste of lukewarm hospital coffee only added to Hermione’s misery as she dragged herself to Black’s office the next morning. She had managed to get five hours of uninterrupted sleep, but still felt like she’d been run over by a train.

She came to a stop a few feet from her boss’s office, the sound of raised voices filtering through the small gap in the door. One was Black’s, and the other—a cold, haughty female voice—was one Hermione had never heard before.

“-taking him with you from time to time. It’s the least you could do.”

“It’s my decision who gets to assist me on my own bloody cases, Narcissa,” came Black’s annoyed reply.

“He’s your godson. It’s your obligation to ensure he gets the best possible education.”

“I won’t repeat myself. Accept it or get out.”

Hermione figured now was as good a time as any to announce her presence. She had to do it at some point, or Black would have her head for being late.

Taking a deep breath, she tentatively knocked on the wooden door.

“Come in, Granger,” came the sharp snarl from inside the room.

The stranger, who stood in front of Black’s desk, turned around. Her pale blue eyes locked onto Hermione with poorly concealed disdain. She had an intimidating presence, her blonde hair styled in an elaborate chignon, and she wore a dark blue dress suit that probably cost more than Hermione’s rent. But it was the graceful elegance with which she carried herself and the haughty way she regarded her surroundings that instantly reminded Hermione of Dr. Black.

Sensing the woman was someone of importance, the intern stepped forward, stretching out her hand to introduce herself.

The woman ignored the gesture, the chilled look in her eyes turning icier as she gave Hermione a once-over.

“Narcissa Malfoy,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “Charmed.”

With that, she turned back to Black’s desk, her pale hands resting on the wood as she addressed the woman sitting behind it.

“Take it into consideration, on my account, Bellatrix,” the blonde said, and after a brief pause, added more quietly, “Please.” — her poised demeanor slipping for just a millisecond.

Hermione had no doubt this woman rarely, if ever, said “please.” She was also quite certain this was Draco Malfoy’s mother. The air of superiority and snobbery surrounding her was unmistakable.

Before Hermione could finish her thought, Narcissa Malfoy swept past her without as much as a farewell, heading for the door. She paused just before exiting, turning back to address Black.

“Also, I expect you to be in attendance next Saturday, Bellatrix.”

Black simply raised her chin defiantly and ushered Narcissa Malfoy out of the office with a rude gesture. To Hermione’s surprise, the woman complied.

“Granger.”

The sudden voice startled Hermione, and she quickly turned to face her boss.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry for interrupting.”

“You weren’t interrupting,” Black said coolly. “That conversation was already over.”

“Mrs. Malfoy didn’t seem to see it that way,” Hermione replied, the words tumbling out before she could stop herself.

Black’s eyes narrowed, and she rose from her chair, approaching Hermione.

“What my sister does or doesn’t think is none of your concern, girl,” Black spat, her voice laced with the dangerous tone Hermione had come to know all too well.

Proceed with caution, Hermione reminded herself.

“Your sister?” she echoed instead, too shocked by the revelation to keep her voice in check. “What is this place—your family’s private hospital?”

“Watch your mouth, Granger,” Black growled, her body stiffening like a tiger ready to strike.

But Hermione had already talked herself into a rage, her exhaustion and fury overwhelming her common sense. She worked her ass off day and night, while Draco Malfoy just had to send his mother after Hermione’s job. She had just about had it.

“No, but of course Draco bloody Malfoy is your godson. Why didn’t you just pick him to assist you? That would fit right into this nepotistic treadmill.”

In a flash, Black was on her, stepping into Hermione’s personal space, so close that Hermione could feel the older woman’s breath on her face.

She hated the way her body suddenly reacted to Black’s proximity. Her heart raced, her throat tightened — she forced herself not to let her mind wander to the treacherous throbbing between her thighs.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but didn’t pick my nephew because he’s an arrogant little bastard, just like his father,” Black whispered, an errant dark curl brushing against Hermione’s neck. “And, what’s even more important—” she continued, her index finger now tracing Hermione’s jawline, “—torturing an insolent little intern like you is so much more fun.”

The young woman was frozen to the spot, her whole attention span focused on the square centimeter of skin where Black was touching her.

Get a grip, Granger! she told herself, using all her willpower not to lean into the other woman’s touch.

There was a knock on the door, and Black removed her finger as if she had been burned. Hermione felt the loss like something palpable as the two women broke apart.

“Enter,” Black called out, and Hermione detected the slightest quiver in her low voice. Almost as if she as well had been affected by their closeness.

Chief Shacklebolt strode into the room, and just like that, Dr. Black was back to her nonchalant, almost disinterested attitude, hoisting herself up to sit on her desk while Hermione stood to attention, faced with the chief physician of the surgery department.

“Ah, Miss Granger, how convenient to meet you here,” Shacklebolt exclaimed, seemingly unbothered by Black’s disrespectful behavior.

He’s probably used to it, Hermione thought to herself before turning her attention back to the Chief.

“Regarding the paper you two are working on — the journal moved the deadline forward. They need it by the end of the week. I heard you already turned in the abstract?”

“Precisely, Chief,” Black drawled, getting down from her desk to shuffle through the dozens of papers strewn across its surface, picking up a bunch to brandish in Shacklebolt’s direction.

“It’s almost done. Granger and I are in the final stages of writing the discussion. No need for you to play nanny.”

“Well, that’s marvelous, isn’t it?” Shacklebolt huffed, throwing a tight-lipped smile in Black’s direction while ignoring Hermione’s raised eyebrows. The intern once again wondered just how valuable Dr. Black must be for the Chief to brush off this kind of behavior.

Once the man had left, Hermione turned to her boss, disbelief on her face.

“But Dr. Black, the paper isn’t even close to finished. You, of all people, should know that.” She paused before continuing. “You lied to him — just to get him out of your hair.”

“Clever girl,” Black cackled, a mischievous smirk plastered across her face. “I don’t need him interfering with my work even more than he already did by saddling me with the likes of you.”

Hermione swallowed down her reply. She was used to the other doctor’s rude comments by now and knew that engaging her was a losing battle.

“Cancel whatever tedious activities you have planned for the next days, Granger. We have to do night shifts to get this done on time,” Black continued absentmindedly while sorting through the paperwork.

“But… I’m already on the brink of fainting. I’ve been doing overtime for weeks. I deserve some sleep,” Hermione replied, agitation now evident in her voice despite her best efforts. It was hard showing weakness in front of someone like her boss, but she felt like she would drop dead if she didn’t get a decent night of sleep soon.

Black turned around, an incredulous look on her face — almost comical if it had been anyone but her.

“Sleep? Do you think I slept before I published in the BJS? Or when I wrote my article on transplant rejection for the Lancet? You think you’ll get enough sleep once you’re a consultant?” the older woman hissed, fury lacing her tone once again.

“If you want to throw away an opportunity to be co-author of a paper written by someone like me to catch a bit of beauty sleep, then get your ass out of this door right now.”

Hermione’s eyes widened like saucers.

“You—you want the paper to have my name on it? Next to yours? As co-author?”

She could hardly believe her boss’s words. This had to be some kind of mind game.

“Are you deaf? I just said so, didn’t I?” the older woman muttered, but for once, the dismissive tone didn’t touch Hermione.

The young woman could feel her eyes getting slightly watery. The prospect of a dream she had harbored since starting med school finally coming true made it hard to keep her emotions in check.

Black spotted the look on her face, rolling her eyes before slumping back into the high, winged chair behind her desk.

“Don’t get all mushy on me now, Granger, or I’ll change my mind. I didn’t call you here to have a chit-chat — let’s get to work.”

But for the flicker of a second, the older woman’s lips twisted into a smile, and Hermione felt her heart skip a beat.

Chapter Text

19:42
from: Cormac (work)

Hi, how are you?

19:56
from: Cormac (work)

long time no see ;)

20:03
from: Cormac (work)

what r you doing tonight?

„I swear to god, Granger, if you don’t mute your bloody phone this instant, I’ll throw it into the biohazard bin.“
Sirius huffed, taking another sip of coffee while throwing Hermione an annoyed glance.

They were in the midst of handover from the day shift, and the ERs breakroom was filled to the brim with people, either wanting to go home or wishing they could.

„Yeah, you’re in high demand tonight, Hermione.“ Cho giggled, some of the nurses joining in, making Hermione roll her eyes as a wave of irritation flooded her. Cormac’s unwanted persistence was becoming unbearable. She’d been avoiding a date with him for weeks, but he simply couldn’t take a hint.

„It’s nothing.“ she muttered, feeling an angry blush rise on her cheek, which only made her colleagues snicker even more.

Suddenly, the door to the room slammed open, causing the laughter to die instantly.

„My, my, what a merry little gathering, don’t stop on my account.“

Shit shit shit

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the last few days Hermione had totally forgotten who her on call-senior for the tonight’s shift was.

Now Dr Black stood in the middle of the break room, the ER staff hurrying out of her way like the Red Sea parting in front of Mose. She wore a white coat over a green silk blouse and tailored trousers combo that made Hermiones mouth go dry and another blush, fueled by something entirely different this time, creep up her neck.

„Granger.“ her boss stated, before ushering a nervous looking student nurse named Colin out of the chair he was occupying with one pointed look. She sat down on the piece of plastic furniture like it was a gilded throne and she the queen herself.

Her dark eyes were now fixed on Hermione as she adressed the room.

„By all means, proceed. I’m just a humble observer.“
Her plump lips were twisted into a sly smirk, something feral lurking underneath.

„What the fuck are you doing here, Bellatrix.“ Sirus growled, a grim look on his usually friendly face.
„You never attend handover.“

„Not that it’s any of your business, dear cousin.“ Bellatrix drawled, the furios glint in her eyes betraying her otherwise unfazed demeanor. „But I changed my mind tonight, so you better get this clown show running before I take matters into my own hand.“ She smirked. „And get a grip on that potty mouth, you know I have HR on speed dial.“

The tension between the two doctors was palpable, the rest of the room holding its collective breath for an explosion. But Sirius just muttered a sharp “fuck this” and turned back around, ignoring the triumphant glint in Bellatrix’s eyes.

Tentatively, the handing over continued, but the light hearted atmosphere from before had vanished from the room.

Hermione was only listening to the conversation with half an ear, her notepad in front of her forgotten since Dr Black had entered the room. Now, her whole attention was tuned to the older woman, it felt like her senses were calibrated her bosses presence alone, the womans pulling her in like gravity.

It felt as thrilling as it was terrifying.
Attraction to her boss was forbidden territory, she was aware that it could jeopardize her career in the most catastrophic way. But Hermione couldn’t help it, somehow fate brought her close to the woman again and again, making it impossible for her to let go of her infatuation.

Once the shift change was over, the day shift and most of the night shift filtered out of the break room, leaving only Hermione and Black behind. Sirius threw his cousin one last venomous look, but his face softened when he wished Hermione a good shift.

„You don’t need to stay here.“ Hermione stated meekly once they were alone. She was unsure of what to say to her boss. „I usually just page the senior when I need help.“

„Nonsense, pet.“ the older woman smirked, a wave of goosebumps washing over Hermione at hearing the familiar nickname.

“I realized, with all the research we’ve been juggling, your actual medical training’s been falling behind. This is a teaching hospital, after all, and I refuse to let my idiotic cousin be the one responsible for shaping your education.”

Despite the whole thing feeling like some sort of trap, there was no way Hermione would let the opportunity to receive one-on-one tutoring by Bellatrix Black slide.

„Well, thanks, I guess, I appreciate it.“ she mumbled, trying her best to make her voice sound steady and confident.

„As you should.“ Black husked, before rising from the chair and giving Hermione a pointed look.
„What, have you grown roots? Move your arse, you’re here to work not to gawp at me like a fish.“

With that, she was headed out the door of the breakroom and into the ER pit.

Hermione mentally chided herself to stop being so blody awkward around her boss, before taping a hasty reply into her mobile.

20:18
To: Cormac (work)

Busy tonight, ER shift. Sry

——————————————

Working under Blacks watchful eye went surprisingly well, though Hermione wasn’t sure if the older doctor had finally softened a bit towards her or if it was just another mind game, to lure her into a false sense of security before lashing out again.

But the intern wanted to make the most out of it, and so she stitched, examined and ultrasounded, Black hovering behind her like a shadow, muttering instructions in that low, throaty voice of hers. The close proximity, combined with the unusual sensation of the woman acting like an actual human being made Hermiones heart race as all kinds of buried, unruly thoughts raised their heads in her mind.

When the older woman placed her hand on Hermiones to guide her during a FAST scan, the intern could swear that a little pathetic whimper escaped her throat at feeling the soft, warm skin on hers.

Luckily, at least for Hermione, the patients painful groans drowned out the sound and safed her from further embarrassment.

She wondered if she had imagined the light squeeze Blacks long fingers had given her wrist after lingering for slightly longer than technically necessary -or appropriate.

When the clock struck midnight, Black excused herself to get some sleep in the call room next to her office, but not without further instructions.

„Be a dear and call me before everything goes to hell like last time,” she said, eyes locking with Hermione’s.

The young intern could help but stare into the seemingly bottomless dark eyes of her senior, and the exquisitely pale skin of the woman’s face, the way her plump red lips were moving….

„Granger! I’m waiting for an answer.“

“Sorry, I just… can’t believe you’re being nice to me,” Hermione admitted, blinking, snapping out of her reverie.

“Don’t get used to it, pet,” Black replied gruffly—but there was a faint softness in her tone that gave Hermione pause.

She watched her boss walk away, heart thudding. Maybe she’d found a crack in that impenetrable armor. Or maybe she was just falling deeper into something she couldn’t escape.

————————————————-

It was an unusually quiet night in one of Londons busiest emergency rooms, and despite no one stating so, not wanting to jinx it, the staff was lounging around at the nurses station, scrolling around on their phones or chatting with each other.

„Well, looks like Blacks been really taking a liking to you.” Cedric grinned as he slumped down into the chair besides Hermione. „I’ve been here for five years now, and never ever before have I seen her so much as talking to an intern, maybe except for screaming at them. But she’s downright cozy with you.“

„He’s right.“ another nurse called Lavender chimed in. „She’s usually a piece of work, bitching and bossing everyone around. You’re her little favorite.“

„Shut it,” Hermione muttered, the words hitting too close to home. She wanted to be Bellatrix Black’s favorite more than she cared to admit.

You want to be more than that, a voice in her head whispered. She ignored it.

“I’ve had my fair share of being yelled at, believe me,” she said. “I’m just glad she’s acting civil, for once.”

“Maybe she got laid recently,” Lavender mused, prompting howls of laughter From the other staff.

Hermione forced a smile that felt more like a grimace.

„Yeah, it’s been ages since I’ve seen her with a girl at the bar. No wonder she’s been in such a bad mood lately.“ Cedric smirked, Hermiones eyes going wide like saucers at hearing this particular piece of information.

„What, you didn’t know?“ Cedric chuckled as he saw Hermiones flabbergasted face. „Well, it’s not exactly a secret, isn’t it. She’s as gay as they come.“

„You’re one to talk, Ced.“ someone yelled from the other side of the station, even more laughter erupting arround them, but Hermione had zoned out while her brain processed the new information.

Bellatrix Black was into women.

And you aren’t? the voice in her head asked smugly.
————————————————

Once the paper had been turned in, her hospital job felt like a walk in the park without the additional workload.
But it also left Hermione without a sufficient distraction, and no amount of yoga, night shifts or coffee dates with her friends were able to divert Hermiones thoughts from circulating around the same topic.

She had a crush on Dr Black.

What had started as a passing fancy had morphed into a full blown obsession, one that Hermione desperately struggled to get a grip on. But it seemed futile.
The erotic dreams were back with full force, almost every night she dreamt of ruby red lips sucking bruises into her skin, dark eyes with blown pupils and a low, velvet voice that whispered the filthiest things into her ear. When she woke up, sweat drenching her bedding and her pyjama pants wet with arousal, she fought the urge to touch herself every single time, but usually she succumbed to the burning between her legs, her bosses name tumbling from her lips when she reached her peak.

Bellatrix

Never ever in her 25 years on this earth had she felt this enthralled by someone. And a woman, nonetheless. It was hard to wrap her head around the fact that her sexuality, something she had been so utterly sure about, had been turned upside down by the snap of a long, pale, manicured finger.

„I need your advice, Gin.“ she sighed as the two of them sat down for a coffee in their usual place. It was a special occasion, with the two of them in the clutches of shift work, and afternoon off together had become a rarity.

Ginny tore her gaze away from the pastry selection displayed at the counter behind them to shoot Hermione a curious glance.

„Fire away. It’s about Black, isn’t it.

„How did you-„

„Please, Mione, we’ve known each other for years. It’s not hard to notice that the situation with her is taking a toll on you. You look like you haven’t been properly sleeping for days.“

„Well about the situation, it’s kind of complicated.“ Hermione tried to explain, giving her best to ease her friend into what she was about to admit.

„It actually really isn’t, Mione.“ Ginny replied, her arms crossed and a frown on her freckled face. „She’s terrorizing you, and even with that bloody paper being done now, I bet she’s waiting around the corner with the next stupid task. You don’t deserve to be treated that way. You know, I could go and talk to Dr. Tonks about it. She knows what a nutter her sister is, I’m sure she will help you go to Shacklebolt with his.“

„NO.“ Hermione exclaimed, causing a few patrons from nearby tables to turn their heads at them. Giving her best to tone it down, she continued.
„I really appreciate you trying to help, but the thing is, she’s been kind of nice to me lately. Well not exactly nice, she’s still a menace, but I feel like she tolerates me now, if that makes sense.“

„It doesn’t really, but go on.“ Ginny replied, seemingly more intrigued than angry now.

„We talk, like sometimes she converses with me without insulting me or shouting at me, she hasn’t called me incompetent in weeks now.“

„How wonderful.“ came the deadpan response.

„And I’m learning so much from her, she’s really bloody brilliant and -fuck, I just can’t stop thinking about her, Gin.“

You could tell the very moment Ginny realized what her best friend was trying to say. Her face took on a sickly pale tone and her eyes widened almost comically.

„You- what, wait a moment? Please tell me you don’t have the hots for your boss, Mione.“ Ginny groaned, burying her face in her hands before taking a deep breath and turning back to her friend again.

„Please don’t look at me like that, Ginny. It’s not like I have a choice, it just sort of happened.“

„Ok, listen. I’m not mad at you or something, I kind of get it. She’s bloody gorgeous, I’m not into woman but I have eyes. But Mione, she‘s your superior, do you really think this could go anywhere? Plus, she’s a total menace, I mean the whole hospital is afraid of her. Just promise me to be careful.“ she reached over to take Hermiones hand into her own. „I don’t want you to get hurt.“

„You’re the best, Gin.“ Hermione murmured, her voice cracking with emotion. „I’m not honestly under the impression that she could be interested in someone like me. And you know I would never jeopardize this job. So no need to worry your pretty head.“

Ginny’s response was interrupted by a series of buzzing noises coming out of Hermiones backpack.

„Ugh, I swear to god, if that’s Cormac again I’m going to block him.“ she groaned.

„Just tell him you’re not interested.“

„One would think he got the hint with how often I gave him a rain check.“

„Yeah, Harry says he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.“ Ginny snickered. „But honestly, just tell the poor guy to bugger off, you dont owe him anything just because the two of you had a snog one time.“

„You’re probably right. I’ll talk to him the next time I meet him at work.“

Chapter Text

Hermione’s resolution to let Cormac down gently was complicated by the man’s insistence on taking her out, the unwanted attention making the young woman increasingly angry and uncomfortable.

When she encountered the man in the ER during their shared shifts, his demeanour ranged from winking or whistling at her to trying to corner her in the storage room. Hermione was growing more and more anxious, but the worst part was that she appeared to be the only one affected by his behaviour.

The nurses and other doctors loved Cormac. He was friendly with everyone, constantly bantering and chatting with the other staff.

If only they knew…

Cedric was the only one who threw the other man a suspicious look from time to time, but Hermione hadn’t dared to talk to him about the matter yet. She was the newbie and didn’t want any negative attention on her.

But the situation was becoming more and more unbearable.

“Cormac, this has to stop,” she said angrily when the man cornered her in the breakroom during a day shift yet again. The ER was packed, so they were alone in the room while their colleagues were scurrying around in the pit. Hermione had neither the time nor the energy to argue with him, but also knew in her heart that she had to put her foot down at some point.

“C’mon, Hermione, quit playing around. I appreciate a bit of tension, but it’s about time we get to know each other properly, if you know what I mean.” Cormac chuckled, crooking an eyebrow as he backed Hermione up against her locker.

The young intern squared her shoulders as she tried to stare the man down, refusing to show him just how intimidating his bulky frame towering above her was.

“I don’t want to get to know you better, Cormac. What we did at the pub was a one-time thing and I don’t want to take things any further than that with you.”
McLaggens eyes narrowed as anger began to cloud his face. He put his hand on Hermione’s arm, the grip strong enough to make her wince as he lowered his face to level hers.

“Now listen here, you little bint, you can’t-”

“I believe she said no, McLaggen,” a deadly calm voice sounded from behind them, making Cormac’s eyes go wide as he leapt away from Hermione like he had been stung.

Hermione wasn’t a religious person, but there had to be some higher power at work that caused Dr Black to appear in the breakroom at this very moment.

“Dr Black, ma’am, Granger and I were just having a chat. This is not how it looks…” McLaggen stammered, his face turning beet red as he put even more distance between himself and Hermione, whose back was still pressed to her locker in a defensive stance. Her eyes locked with Black’s and the woman gave her a look so intense that a shiver went through her.

“So you didn’t just harass a female colleague despite her obvious refusal to talk to you?” Black drawled, her voice low and dangerous.
“Funny, because that’s exactly how it bloody looked.” she continued, her tone getting more icy with each word.
Ignoring McLaggen’s spluttering, she turned back to Hermione.

“We can take this up to HR this very moment, Granger,” Black said, her posture softening a bit as she addressed the younger woman.
Hermione could only shake her head, not trusting herself to speak right now without bursting into tears. She swallowed thickly before croaking out a quiet “No.”

The last thing she wanted was for the whole thing to get public.

“Get the hell out of here, McLaggen, and if I catch you so much as breathing in Granger’s direction again, HR will be the least of your problems,” Black spat while the man fled the break room like the devil was chasing him.

“Dr Lupin will hear about this!” Black yelled after him.

As soon as he was out of the door, all the tension left Hermione’s body and she crumbled to the floor, her back still against the locker behind her.
She put her face in her hands trying to calm herself, when she felt the warmth of a body crouching down beside her.

“Are you alright, Granger?”

She tried to nod, not daring to look at the older woman. The sheer embarrassment and anxiety she felt right now would be written all over her face.

“Hermione, look at me.”
She had never heard the other doctor’s voice sound so soft, so human, not a hint of the usual venom as she put a hand on her quivering shoulder.

Hermione was unable to refuse the softly uttered command, especially not when her name was said so carefully, like speaking it out loud would break it into a thousand pieces.

Slowly, Hermione raised her head and her heart almost stopped as she saw the look on Dr Black’s face. The other woman’s eyes were almost pitch black, but there was an intensity in them that caressed Hermione more than the woman’s hand did, like a heavy blanket around her shoulders, a wordless “you will be fine” that eased her frazzled nerves.

“Did he hurt you?” the older woman pressed out, fury clouding her eyes as they roamed over Hermione’s body to check for any damage.

“No, he just gripped my arm very tightly. I’m fine, I guess.“

“Nothing about this is fine, Granger.”
Hermione tried not to let her disappointment show as Black switched back to last names. But it was for the better, the way she had said her name had been almost too much for the young woman to bear, every carefully uttered syllable still clinging to the back of her mind.
Hearing it again would undo her completely.

“Well, it’s your choice, if you change your mind just say so.“ Black continued, her voice laced with a sudden coldness that betrayed the supposedly supportive words.

“I have to get back to the OR. And you should go home.“ she muttered curtly, avoiding Hermione’s gaze as she left the breakroom without another word.

________________________

Hermione had excused herself from work for the remainder of the day, not even saying goodbye to her colleagues. She told Sirius something about a sudden onset of the flu before she fled the hospital.

Her head was spinning under the onslaught of emotions she was experiencing - shock and horror about what could’ve happened if Black hadn’t stepped in, but also a deep uneasiness about her boss’s hot and cold behaviour. It was all too much right now, and she yearned for the quietness and comfort of her bed.

Ginny, who was doing night shifts that week, threw Hermione a puzzled look when she slammed the door of their shared flat behind her. Harry was sitting beside her at the table in their tiny kitchen, but Hermione had gotten used to having the man around, and she needed to get this whole thing off her chest before she combusted.

“I’m going to chop his bloody balls off.“ Ginny seethed once Hermione had finished telling the story to her friends.
“I should send my brothers so they can rough him up a bit.”

“Please, be for real, Gin,” Hermione muttered, feeling some of the weight lifted off her chest. She just loved her best friend to death.

“Charlie’s on the other end of the world, Ron would only hurt himself in the process and Percy would never do anything to risk his precious career.”

“Posh fucker,” Ginny muttered. “But you’re right I guess. Maybe the twins could put some dog shite in his letterbox.”

“I’ll go and talk to him,” Harry, who had yet to say a word, threw Hermione a compassionate look.
“He can’t just get away with it. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Hermione had to fight the tears welling up in her eyes once again. She just shook her head before taking a large sip of the strong tea Ginny had prepared for her.

“I appreciate it, Harry, but I really don’t want this to get public. I’ve only worked at King’s Cross for a couple of months and once everyone knows they will only see me either as the girl who got harassed or as the one who tried to rat out a colleague. Everyone loves McLaggen, and I’m not sure how they feel about me yet.” She finished, staring into her cup morosely.

She didn’t want to be seen as a victim, or worse, a traitor.

“Black told me to get HR involved, but I refused and she got kind of angry with me.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think she was only trying to look out for you.” Ginny reached over and pulled her in for a one-armed hug.
“Maybe she’s finally warming up to you a bit.”

On cue, Hermione’s phone buzzed with a message.

from: B. Black
My office, tomorrow at 8

“Warming up my arse,” Hermione muttered while tucking the device back into her pocket without bothering to answer. She would be there, and Black knew that.

_________________________

The following day was supposed to be Hermione’s free one, but as always, she was unable to defy her boss’s commands. She was putty in the older woman’s hands, and with every interaction, it continued to get worse. She could still feel her strong hand on her shoulder, and the careful utterance of her name in that deep, velvet voice echoed around in her head, haunting her.

As horrible as the day before had been, its events were only fanning the flames of her ever-growing obsession with Bellatrix Black.

Her nerves laid bare as she knocked on the familiar wooden door, waiting for the clipped, but equally familiar “enter” before carefully opening it.

Black was, as usual, launching in her high-winged chair, her heeled feet resting on her desk’s surface with their bright red soles pointing in Hermione’s direction. Those shoes probably cost more than her monthly intern salary.

Hermione was so taken aback by her boss’s casual pose that she almost missed Narcissa Malfoy sitting in another chair in front of the desk, a teacup in her dainty hand.
She threw Hermione a pointed look that almost made the girl want to curtsey.

“Erm, good morning.”

Very eloquent, Hermione.

“Well, as charming as this visit has been, Cissy, I really must ask you to leave.” Black addressed her sister, a wolfish grin on her face.
“Miss Granger here and I need to have a talk, girl to girl.”

Narcissa, who had obviously decided to ignore Hermione’s presence completely, let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re still required to attend this weekend, Bellatrix. Your department is just as dependent on funds as everyone else’s.”

Black only rolled her eyes in reply.

“I also expected you to be in adequate company this time.”

“That won’t be an issue, dear sister. I’m bringing Miss Granger here.”

“What?” came the unison response of the two other women.

Narcissa whirled around to Hermione, who felt like she was part of a game she didn’t sign up for.

“I beg your pardon?” the blonde woman hissed, her haughty mask slipping for a second as her face was twisted with anger. “She’s your employee, you can’t seriously want to bring someone as common as her to our fundraiser gala.”

Black slowly lifted her feet from her desk, bracing her palms on the wood instead while slowly getting up.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” She hissed, the underlying anger Hermione was familiar with by now curling around the edges of the cordial tone she had previously addressed her sister with.

Narcissa looked slightly taken aback, and Bellatrix, sensing her sibling’s uneasiness, continued in her usual, haughty voice.

“Granger’s quite the little star pupil. Haven’t you read our latest article? I bet all those posh fuckers will bend over backwards to chat about this hospital’s scientific contributions with a pretty little thing like her all evening.”

Hermione felt like she should be offended by those words, but being called pretty by her boss had short-circuited her brain. So she just stood there, unable to say a word, her eyes fixed on Bellatrix, as they tend to do lately whenever she was around the woman.

“By all means.” Narcissa, who had quickly regained her composure, addressed Hermione with a thinly lipped grimace that was probably supposed to be a smile. “I look forward to welcoming you on Saturday, Miss Granger. Just for your consideration, the event is going to be black tie, meaning…”

“I know what that means.” Hermione retorted sharply, snapping out of her frenzy. Her boss only raised an eyebrow at her, looking slightly amused at her intern’s feisty display. Narcissa, on the other hand, looked like she had bitten into a lemon.

“My excuses, Mrs Malfoy.” Hermione continued, more demure this time as she sensed the blonde woman’s growing disapproval. “I’ll make sure to dress accordingly. Thank you for having me.”

Narcissa nodded curtly before getting up from her chair and gracefully exiting the room with a “good day” thrown in the direction of Hermione and Dr Black.
The young intern inhaled deeply as soon as the woman’s icy presence had left the room.

“What did you say your sister’s job was again?”

“Oh, nothing serious, she’s the hospital’s CFO.”

“Nothing serious?” Hermione exclaimed, not believing her ears.

I just talked back to the CFO. I’m so very screwed.

“Calm down Granger, my sister is harmless. Just compliment her dress on Saturday and you’ll be fine.”

Of all the words people would use to describe Narcissa Malfoy, harmless wasn’t one of them, of that Hermione was sure. But she decided to let it slide right now, her curiosity as to why her boss had summoned her winning over her anxiety.

“Anyway, you wanted to see me?” she asked, deciding to sit down in one of the chairs Narcissa had previously occupied.

“Oh it really is nothing, I just wanted to inform you that our paper is going to be published in Transplant International.” Black said, like she was talking about the weather forecast or the quality of the hospital cafeteria’s food.
She grinned at Hermione’s flabbergasted face.

“In this instance, I think my sister is going to cut you some slack for the little stunt you pulled.”

“You’re kidding me, right? God, this is bloody amazing.” Hermione exclaimed, still trying to wrap her head around what she just heard.
“I have to call my parents. This is the best day ever.”

Without thinking, she reached over the desk and grabbed her boss’s hand. It was warm and firm, and the other woman tensed, but didn’t pull away.
“Thank you so much, Dr Black, for making this possible for me, I don’t even have the words…”

“I told you before to stop being so bloody sentimental all the time, Granger,” Black muttered, but her voice lacked it’s usual bite, and she had yet to remove her hand from under Hermione’s as a smile tugged on her full lips.

There was a flutter in Hermione’s heart as she squeezed her boss’s hand lightly, and the subsequent darkening of the older woman’s gaze was enough to send a myriad of totally inappropriate thoughts through her head.

But her mind quickly sobered as Black’s eyes hardened again as she leaned back in her chair, removing her hand from under Hermione’s in the process. The absence of her touch only made Hermione ache for it even more.

“Anyway, how have you been since yesterday, Granger?”
Her voice sounded gruff, as if she had to force herself to talk to Hermione about something as mundane as feelings.

“I’m managing,” the younger woman replied in a soft voice.
“I’m just grateful you were there.”

“Most men are vile creatures, and you always have to expect the worst, especially if you’re not acting like they want you to,” Black replied, and Hermione got the impression that there was something more personal to those words.

It sparked her curiosity, but she knew better than to ask her superior about something so deeply private.

“Anyway,” the woman continued. “The gala on Saturday starts at 8:30, and it won’t be on your payroll. I’m just saying so you don’t get any wrong ideas. It’s a big opportunity for you, so don’t disappoint me.“

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” came Hermione’s whispered response, and something in the dark appreciation that lingered in Dr Black’s eyes made Hermione realise just how much she wanted to please the woman.

____________________________

Of course, Ginny had been the first person to hear about Hermione’s academic success. Her best friend had been ecstatic, to say the least, and quickly decided that a girls’ night out was just the way to celebrate.

The shot glass met the counter surface with a bang, and Hermione winced as the burn of another round of vodka made its way down her throat. Ginny kept them coming, and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep up.
There was a blush beginning to form on Luna’s and Cho’s pale cheeks and Parvati was starting to look rather cross-eyed.

“To our very own Miss Transplant International,” Ginny hollered, and if Hermione hadn’t already been fairly wasted, she would’ve cringed at the responding cheer of the other patrons.

“For real, you can be so proud of yourself,” Parvati beamed, before adding in a sassy tone. “Shacklebolt should give you a raise for putting up with Black though.”

“Nah, it’s been alright,” Hermione replied, careful to play her opinion of her boss down, like a lot .
“Once she realised I’m not a total idiot she wasn’t that much of a menace anymore. You can even have a laugh with her, she’s really witty and… OW.”
Hermione stopped in her tracks as Ginny kicked her in the shins under the table.

“Mione, your gay is showing,” her friend muttered, and Hermione flushed brightly as she hastily tried to steer the conversation to lighter topics.

Luckily, Parvati and Cho were too intoxicated to catch the message behind Hermione’s rambling, but Luna looked at her with an eerie, but intense expression that made Hermione feel oddly perceived.

Feeling natures calling, Hermione got up from the table, obviously too fast, because the whole pub was spinning in circles around her. After steadying herself on one of the bar chairs, she carefully manoeuvred herself to the restrooms at the far end of the pub.

Just as she was entering the dimly lit corridor that led to the loo, her phone chimed in her pocket. The buzzing sound snapped herself out of her daydreams about dark curls and blazing eyes.

Speaking of the devil

“Why can’t she just bloody leave me in peace?” Hermione muttered as she clumsily fetched her mobile out of her jeans to read a familiarly curt written messages from her boss regarding tomorrow’s gala.

Maybe, under different circumstances, Hermione’s intoxicated brain would’ve been quick enough to prevent her from what she did next. But it felt like on autopilot as her shaking fingers pressed onto the tiny green symbol next to her boss’s name.

Black picked up straight away.

“Granger?” came the husky voice from the other end of the line.

“Can’t you even stop bloody pestering me on my free Friday night?” Hermione slurred into her phone.

“What the -” Black tried to intervene angrily, but the young woman wouldn’t have it.

“It’s not right, you know. It’s not fair what you’re doing to me.”

“And what is it that I’m doing to you, pet?” Black replied, her timbre velvety now.

“I can’t sleep because of you, because of your constant messages, and your hair, and your voice and your hands…” Hermione rambled, all inhibitions thrown away as the words came tumbling out of her mouth.

“My, my, are you drunk, Granger?”

Hermione was just taking deep, shallow breaths, her heart racing in her chest as she was unable to utter a response.

“I asked you a question, Hermione.”

Fucking hell.

“Yes, I am,” she replied meekly, even in her inebriated state she was unable to refuse a direct command from her boss.

“Drunk dialling your boss, aren’t you full of surprises, pet.” Black chuckled darkly, the sound sending waves of goosebumps over Hermione’s sweaty skin.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the young woman whispered, her thoughts moving slowly, like through honey. She was simply unable to just hang up on the other woman, the phone glued to her face as she was eagerly awaiting the older woman’s response.

“Are you at home, pet?”

“No, I’m at the pub.”

“All alone?”

“No, with some friends.”

“Did some fellow there catch your eye?”

“No, ma’am. No one.”

Two seconds of silence.

“Good.”

Hermione let out a small gasp as the one, darkly uttered syllable ignited a familiar heat deep within her belly.

“Do you wanna be good for me, Hermione?”

Oh my fucking God

“Yes!” Hermione groaned, her voice sounding unfamiliar to her own ears, all throaty and needy.

“You go and tell your little friends goodnight, grab a cab home, undress and get your sweet little arse into bed. I expect you to be at the top of your game tomorrow evening. You understand me, pet?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl.”

Hermione’s whole body felt like Bellatrix Black had set her on fire. Heat, molten and scorching made its way through her bloodstream, accumulating in the burning place between her thighs. The urge to touch herself, to quench her need in the dimly lit pub bathroom was almost overwhelming.

“Goodnight, Hermione.“ came the husky reply before the line went silent.

Chapter Text

In hindsight, Hermione had no idea how she had managed to get home in one piece. Not only had she been fairly drunk, but also extremely horny.

Her friends had acknowledged her swift exit with a disappointed groan, but by now, they knew Hermione well enough not to argue with her about something she was intent on doing.

“Text me once you’re home,” Ginny had yelled after her, and Hermione waved curtly in her friends’ direction before she stepped outside, relishing the way the cool night air felt on her overheated skin.

The cab driver was a dour man who hadn’t said a word the whole way home, and so Hermione had time enough to bask in the feeling of dread that slowly crept up on her as she was getting more sober by the minute.

What have I done?

Whatever Bellatrix Black considered suitable boundaries for her subordinates, Hermione was sure that she had totally, monumentally overstepped them. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to face her boss ever again, and especially not in a couple of hours.

But at the same time, the words Black had whispered into Hermione’s eager ears through the line were still lingering on the girl’s skin, leaving a blazing hot trail in their wake.

Good girl.

With a slight groan, Hermione pressed her thighs together as she felt another surge of arousal between them. She prayed for the London traffic to ease up so that she could finally get home to do something about it.

Twenty minutes later, as she rubbed herself to completion in the darkness of her bedroom, it was Bellatrix Black’s voice in her head urging her to come all over her fingers.

—————————————-
Hermione woke the next morning with a dull headache and a feeling of shame settled deep within her belly.

The prospect of her upcoming encounter with Dr. Black that evening was unnerving; the embarrassment was so palpable that she almost considered calling in sick for the gala.

On the other hand, Hermione was well aware of how essential the event could be for her career. It was that thought that drove her out of her room and made her beg a gloating Ginny for help with getting ready. Only after she popped a couple of painkillers, of course.

“Look at you,” Ginny whistled some time later as she appraised her work in front of a floor-length mirror in Hermione’s bedroom.

“If Black really is gay, then she’ll drool over you in that dress.”

“Hush, you’re insufferable. It’s not the goal of the evening to bed my boss,” Hermione replied, trying to force the image of her and Black tangled in the sheets together out of her mind.

“But maybe it’ll be a nice side effect,” Ginny grinned.

“Weren’t you all worried about my tender sensibilities when I last told you that I fancy her?”

“Yes, and I still am,” Ginny admitted with a shrug. “But she’s been fairly decent to you lately, plus she saved you from that asshole McLaggen…”

“She’s still my boss, Gin, so that’s a non-starter.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Ginny replied hastily, sensing Hermione’s reluctance to talk about the situation. “You’re still going to turn heads left and right; you look bloody amazing, Mione.”

Hermione shushed her while glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Ginny was right; she did look good. Her dress, made of dark purple silk, hugged her upper body tightly before the fabric flowed around her legs in a swirling skirt. It was simple, yet elegant, and the neckline was just on the right side of provocative, considering that it was a work-related event. Ginny had done her hair and makeup, and she admired the beautiful updo that showed off her long neck. Yes, she was definitely ready for the gala.

Hermione tried her best to ignore the churning, steadily increasing anxiety about facing Dr. Black again. Even if her memories about the last night were hazy, she still knew that the things that had transpired between them were unprofessional at best—and dangerous at worst.
———————————————-
The ride to the hospital was rather uneventful, but Hermione barely recognized the lobby of King’s Cross as she stepped through its familiar doors.

Whoever was responsible for the decorations had really outdone themselves. Opulent flower bouquets were placed all around the venue, the lights of candles casting the whole space in a warm golden light.

As soon as Hermione spotted a familiar head of black curls amidst the guests, she hastily grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the waiters who were circling the many standing tables scattered around the place.
She downed it in one gulp, but it did
little to calm her frazzled nerves.

Unsure of what to do next, Hermione aimlessly let her eyes wander around the large open space in search of a familiar face.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” A deep voice from somewhere behind her made Hermione spin around. It belonged to a man, probably in his early fifties. With his chiseled face and neatly styled black hair, he was certainly handsome, but his cold, pale blue eyes gave him an aloof and slightly unapproachable expression.

“It most certainly is; whoever was responsible for the decoration is worth their salt.” Hermione replied, offering the stranger a small smile.

“I’m sure they will be glad to hear this, especially from someone looking so nicely decorated themselves, Miss…?”

“It’s Granger, Sir. I’m a first-year surgical intern here.” Hermione replied, slightly irritated but intent on staying friendly.

“Well, then it’s my pleasure to meet my future competitors, Dr. Granger. Impressive article you published in Transplant International the other day,” he inclined his head with a sly grin as he offered her his outstretched hand. “Thomas Riddle, chief of surgery at St. George’s.”

Before Hermione could take it, she felt the curl of cold fingers around her upper arm and the presence of a warm body beside her.

“Harassing my interns, Tom? Don’t you have some malpractice suit to deal with?” came a sickly sweet voice from right next to Hermione’s ear, and she turned around to look directly into the features of her boss.

The woman had a toothy grin on her face, but her eyes flashed with a familiar danger as her grip on Hermione’s arm tightened possessively.

Dr. Riddle’s smile stayed firmly in place, but there was a slight crinkle of what Hermione thought was anger around his eyes.

“Bellatrix, a pleasure as always,” he drawled before inclining his head towards Hermione. “I look forward to discussing your paper with you later, Dr. Granger.” With that, he disappeared into the crowd.

“You,” Black pressed out between her clenched teeth, “are going to stay the fuck away from that man.”

Hermione was only now able to take in her boss’s full form, the sight of the older woman enough to make her feisty response to that command die on her suddenly dry tongue.

The burgundy trouser suit Black wore matched her dark red lipstick to a T, and Hermione couldn’t tear her gaze away from the very low neckline of the woman’s black silk blouse, her mind teleported back to the sinful words her boss had uttered only hours before.
Unfortunately, there was nothing but fury written over the woman’s beautiful face right now.

Luckily, Narcissa chose that moment to appear next to them, a vision in a pale silver dress with a magnanimous smile on her face. The perfect hostess.

Hermione hadn’t really warmed up to the woman, but right now, she thanked the heavens above that Narcissa’s aloof presence was able to cool down the tension that was pulsing between Hermione and Bellatrix.

“Oh, Miss Granger, I’ve seen you met Dr. Riddle? He’s a highly respected surgeon and we’re most grateful that he accepted to be our guest speaker tonight, aren’t we, Bellatrix?”
Narcissa shot a poignant look to where her sister was still holding Hermione’s arm in a vicious grip.

“Oh, absolutely,” Black growled, before slowly easing her fingers away from Hermione’s pale skin. They left a slight reddish spot in their wake, and for a short, delicious moment Hermione allowed herself to think about the possibility that a bruise would form on her arm, a physical reminder of the hold this woman had on her.

“If you would excuse me and my sister for a moment, Miss Granger? Feel free to mingle; there are a lot of prestigious guests in attendance tonight,” Narcissa said before tugging Bellatrix after her to some corner of the lobby, where she started talking to her in hushed tones.

Hermione, still shaken by the encounter, helped herself to another glass of champagne before scanning the venue, deciding where to go next. A few feet away, she spotted Dr. Tonks talking to a young woman with hair the color of cotton candy, before her glance fell on Hermione and she waved her over with a broad smile.

“Ah, Miss Granger, it’s good to see you!” she beamed, and Hermione felt her anxiety settle for a bit as the older woman wrapped her arm around her shoulder in a friendly greeting, the warmth and familiarity of the gesture a stark contrast to her sisters’ previous behavior.

“This is my daughter Nymphadora; she’s a PhD at Imperial College, and since my husband is busy tonight she was so kind to accompany me.”

“Hi there,” Nymphadora smiled, and offered her hand in a friendly greeting. “But for Gods sake, please don’t call me Nymphadora. Just Tonks.”

Dr. Tonks rolled her eyes at her daughter, but before Hermione could respond, or even introduce herself, she was yet again interrupted by a voice coming from the small podium that had been assembled in the middle of the venue.

“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. As the head of King’s Cross Hospital Foundation Board, it’s both an honor and a pleasure to welcome you to our yearly fundraiser gala. This previous year, our hospital was able to make significant scientific contributions and improve our excellent patient care even more, and all thanks to your generosity. We hope that tonight will be a spirited, joyful affair with lots of good conversations for all of you.” Narcissa ended her address to polite applause and glided off the stage to join her bored-looking son and a sneering blonde man that Hermione assumed was her husband.

“Cissy always knew how to capture the crowd’s attention,” Dr. Tonks chuckled, before turning to Hermione again. “Why don’t you and Nymphadora check out the buffet? I’m going to find my sisters and join you in a moment.”

Hermione and Tonks made their way over to where the caterers had placed dozens of platters overflowing with all kinds of finger food. They chatted aimlessly about their respective works and the hurdles of drafting a scientific paper.

Hermione found Tonks to be very talkative, yet pleasant company, and together they meandered through the crowd, chatting with some researchers Tonks was familiar with and witnessing a fascinating discussion about a current clinical trial that, much to Hermione’s amusement, was about the kind of music rats chose after receiving cocaine.

At some point, the talks on the stage in the middle of the venue began. Some, like Dr. Moody’s about the hospital’s new air ambulance, captured the crowd’s attention, while Dr. Tonks’ stories from the freshly renovated pediatric oncology ward opened the hearts—and wallets—of even the toughest of London’s tycoons.

Others, though, weren’t that captivating, and as the guests saw Dr. Snape off the stage with half-hearted applause, Tonks couldn’t stifle her yawn.

“Contemporary management of esophageal perforations… what a bummer. He really could’ve gone for something a bit more…”

“Interesting?” Hermione chimed in, and the two women burst into fits of laughter, only stopped by Tonks spotting a man on the far end of the room.

“Oh, that’s Oliver, one of my mates from uni. I’ll just pop over and say hi, see you in a bit.”

Of course, Dr. Riddle used the very moment Hermione was left alone to come up to her and draw her into a conversation. Opposed to their slightly bumpy start, he now surprised her with his civility and genuine interest in her paper. Hermione needed a minute to deal with the fact that a leading expert on transplant surgery was interested in the work of a measly little intern such as herself, but once she got over her nerves, she could really immerse herself in the discussion.

“So, you work closely with Bellatrix, don’t you, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, I mean, Dr. Black is my direct supervisor, so we tend to see each other quite often,” Hermione stammered, unsure of the turn the conversation had taken.

“She’s an intense character, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I really don’t know her quite that well,” Hermione replied, measuring her words carefully. Bellatrix Black was a sore spot of hers, and she was sure that someone as cunning as Dr. Riddle could see her conflicting emotions all over her face if she wasn’t careful.

“…and so, we’re very excited to welcome our guest speaker tonight, Dr. Thomas Riddle.” Narcissa’s voice carried over to them through the speakers.

“Ah, business is calling. It’s been a pleasure, Miss Granger.” He inclined his head with a smirk before handing Hermione a small piece of paper. “My card, just in case you ever require further assistance with your academic achievements.” With a wink, he sauntered off to the stage, leaving Hermione stunned by the man’s boldness, obviously born from years of success and always getting his way.

But at the same time, the young intern was happy about not having to divulge any details about her relationship with her boss. After witnessing their interaction, she was certain that there was a certain animosity there, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to get in the middle of that.

Strolling through the venue some more, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of restlessness that had settled in her body, the uncanny feeling of being watched making her skin tingle. Warily she let her eyes wander around the hospital lobby.

There she was.

Dark, black eyes were watching her from a corner, the figure of the woman almost hidden in the shadows cast by the candlelight, but the message the curling of a pale, manicured finger sent was crystal clear.

Come to me.

And how could she ever disobey?
Without further ado, Hermione hurried away, like a moth drawn to a flame, headed for the dimly lit corner Dr. Black was lurking in.

As soon as she was in her boss’s vicinity, the other woman grabbed her wrist and unceremoniously dragged her into a broom closet that was hidden behind an advertisement display for a new antihypertensive.

Hermione had already opened her mouth to protest against her boss’s rude behavior, as the other woman pinned her against the cupboard door.

“What did I tell you about that man?” she hissed, small drops of saliva escaping her mouth and landing in Hermione’s shocked face.

“I was just—”

“I told you to stay away from him.”

“But he—”

“Shut up.” Black seethed, and the burning fury in her dark eyes was so intense that Hermione was shaking like a leaf. “If I catch you conversing with that despicable low-life ever again, there will be hell to pay.”

Hermione chose this moment to push back. She wasn’t going to let this woman walk all over her for something that was hardly her fault.

“What are you even talking about? He came up to me, and as opposed to you, actually treated me like a human being whose opinion and thoughts mattered,” she spat out, doing her best to square her shoulders as she looked directly into Black’s blazing eyes. “I don’t know why you even—”

“Because you belong to me.”

It felt like Black had knocked the air out of Hermione’s lungs with those words. The young intern could only gasp as she was yet again pressed against the wooden door behind her, her boss’s strong hands gripping her upper arms as the woman’s face inched impossibly close to her own, so close she could feel her hot breath on her skin as she continued to speak.

“You’re my little intern, and you will listen to me, won’t you, pet?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione croaked, her tongue feeling thick and dry inside her mouth.

“And why is that so, mh?” Black whispered, the gleam in her eyes shifting from wrath to something else entirely.

“Because…because I—” Hermione whimpered, the close proximity to the woman that controlled her every thought making it impossible for her to form a proper sentence.

“Speak up, girl.” Black purred, her grip on Hermione’s arm tightening almost painfully.

“Because I want to be a good girl for you,” Hermione whispered, shame and arousal flooding her body, creating a burning sensation that she could feel from the tips of her ears all the way down between her legs.

“Fuck” Black breathed, her full lips slightly parted as her face came even closer to Hermione’s. She could feel the other woman’s hot breath on her skin and their eyes locked, the air between them crackling with tension as Hermione leaned even closer. Their faces were only millimeters apart, and the urge to press her lips to Black’s became almost unbearable.

A shrill beeping sound tore through their heavy breathing, piercing the tension and making Dr. Black go stiff before dropping her grip on Hermione’s arm like she had been burned.

“Fucking shit.” she muttered as she fetched her phone out of the pocket of her suit jacket.

“Black,” she spat into the receiver, the slight shiver in her voice the only evidence that the situation that had transpired only seconds before had affected her at all.

“No, absolutely not, I’m on my way. Prep the OR and don’t you dare touch the man before I’m there, Finnegan,” she barked before cramming the phone back into her pocket.

“Bloody moron.”

“You’re on call?” Hermione asked incredulously, her own voice sounding shrill and breathless to her own ears.

“Someone has to be, pet,” Black replied curtly before her gaze softened for a moment as she took Hermione’s clammy hand into her own and pressed it gently. Her face was back to its usual unfazed expression, but her eyes were still burning hotly as they bore into Hermione’s.

“I need to go, but I’ll see you bright and early on Monday morning in my office, understood?”

Hermione could only nod, the sound of her racing heart almost drowning out her boss’s low voice.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Hermione, and remember what I told you.”

“Yes, Dr. Black.”

“Bellatrix will do.” the other woman husked before hurrying out the door, k
leaving Hermione alone in the dark closet, shivering with arousal and wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into.

Chapter Text

Hermione spent the rest of the night in a confusing limbo of frustration and arousal.

The encounter with Dr. Black — Bellatrix — had shaken her to the core, and she was at a total loss of how to proceed now.

She had been about to kiss me.

The young woman cursed her boss's bloody mobile straight to hell for interrupting what could've been the pinnacle of all the pining she had done for the last few weeks.

Absentmindedly, she trailed her hands over the exposed skin of her forearm, where the black-haired woman's strong fingers had gripped her only minutes before. If she closed her eyes, it was as if she could still feel them, how they trailed over her shoulders, down her neck, closer to her breasts…

Hermione opened her eyes again, shocked as the clamoring of the crowd around her flooded her senses again. Her daydream had felt so real, as if she was still in that closet with the woman who had spun her world off its axis.

The people around her kept on chatting and laughing, acting like nothing had happened, as if Hermione's whole life hadn't just been turned upside down by a low, velvety voice and sinful lips, her previously upright, proper, rule-abiding personality forgotten as she yearned for the forbidden fruit that was Bellatrix Black.

Her breath hitched as she realized the implications of what had just happened.
Almost happened.

"I need to get out of here," she muttered, her eyes darting around as she prayed that no one could sense the way she was unraveling. It felt like by touching her, Bellatrix had branded her for everyone to see.

With a racing heart, Hermione fled the venue, far too caught up in her own mind to see the steely gaze of blue eyes that followed her.

—————————————————-
Ginny was waiting up for her, a cup of tea in her hands with an old episode of Dr. Who playing on the telly in their living room.

Her head spun towards the door with an excited expression as Hermione entered the flat, but her face fell as soon as she saw her friend's upset look.

"Oh no, dear. I'll make you a cup of tea."

This made Hermione smile. "You're starting to sound like your mum."

"Oi, watch it," Ginny yelled over her shoulder as she made a beeline for the kettle in their kitchen nook.

Hermione followed her and slumped down on one of the chairs cramped around the small table, burying her face in her hands.

There, the whole story spilled out of her; Ginny didn't even need to pry. It was like all of her emotions were blowing up inside her like a balloon, threatening to burst if she didn't let some of them out.

"Wow," came Ginny's response a couple minutes later, her hand stroking soothing circles over Hermione's back.

"I obviously can't let anything further happen, Gin," Hermione said, but it came out more like a question rather than the steadfast intention she had wanted it to sound like.

"Look," Ginny said, her eyes fixed on Hermione. "Usually, I would recommend you to just live a little and let go once in a while. You've been fixed on nothing but studying and working for ages, basically as long as I've known you. But this…" she paused for a moment to let her hand run through her red hair. "…this is risky, and if it gets out, the two of you will be in some serious trouble."

"I know," Hermione groaned. "I really did my best to just ignore the attraction, but it's virtually impossible to stay away from that woman. And Gin, you should've seen her last night, she was breathtaking."

"Jesus, you've got it bad," Ginny muttered, interrupting Hermione's impending swooning. "Maybe you should just try it once and be done with it."

"What?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's probably one of those things that hold a certain appeal because it's forbidden. And she obviously fancies you; I mean, you're not acting that possessive in front of other people if you don't have the hots for someone. So you just do it, and boom you've got it out of your system and go on with your life. Once doesn't count. Plus, it's super unlikely anyone is going to find out that way."

"Are you really encouraging me to shag my boss?" Hermione replied incredulously, looking at Ginny as if she'd just grown a second head.
Her friend just shrugged. "It's either that or witnessing your horrible pining for months on end."

Hermione gave Ginny a playful slap with a kitchen towel. Her heart already felt lighter; the friendly banter made the whole thing appear less catastrophic and tricky than it actually was.

Realizing the late hour, she hugged Ginny good night before peeling out of her dress. As she fell into bed, the eventful night caught up with her and she suddenly felt a deep exhaustion settling in her body.

Just before she turned off the light, she slipped the card Dr. Riddle had handed her into her bedside drawer.

One could never know.

—————————————————
Just across town

With a groan, she eased her hair out of the makeshift bun she had put it into. She usually avoided this type of hairstyle since it gave her a headache, but it had been a matter of urgency when she had to scrub in earlier tonight.

She studied her tired face in the mirror above the sink of her office's en suite. There was a small speck of blood just under her left eye, and she hastily wiped it off, trying her best not to smear her mascara in the process.

"Bloody hell," she muttered to no one in particular as she made her way back into her dimly lit office, pouring herself a healthy glass of whiskey before she slumped down into one of the plush armchairs in the corner. She was ignoring the pounding of her head and her slightly shaky hands, waiting for the alcohol to do its job.

Hermione Granger.

When she had first met the girl — woman, she corrected herself — she had been irritated by her bright-eyed, bushy-tailed demeanor.
Usually, she hated people fawning over her, but Hermione's starstruck behavior had appealed to her vanity. The way the young intern blushed and stammered in her presence was delicious, and more and more often she found herself craving the heady feeling of power this little game of riling up her employee gave her.

But that's all that it had been, a game. Nothing serious, nothing with any sentiment attached.

At least that's what she tried to tell herself.

Seeing McLaggen harassing Hermione had almost been her breaking point, but somehow, she had been able to pull herself together.

But when that bastard Riddle had accosted the young woman during the gala, she saw red. The flare of possessiveness had been impossible to ignore, and she had to stake her claim.

And God, the way the girl had looked at her in that closet, cheeks flushed, pupils blown, so eager to please, to be taken….

"Fuck!" Bellatrix spat, slamming her tumbler down onto the small table next to her hard enough for the amber liquid to spill over the rim, coating her hand and the table's surface. It took everything out of her to not just call Hermione and summon her to her office, consequences be damned.

She just knew the girl would obey.

A dry, humorless laugh escaped her throat as she let her head fall against the back of the armchair.

She had to do something. The situation was becoming unbearable, and worse still, it was starting to affect her work. The case she had just handled with Finnegan had been easy enough for her wandering thoughts not to be a hindrance; she could take out a ruptured spleen in her sleep.

But never before had she allowed herself to get even slightly distracted in the OR. She was losing her edge.

This was as maddening as it was unacceptable. She had to do something before she lost the one thing she valued above everything else — control.

————————————————-
Sunday had been a quiet affair, with Hermione switching between binge-watching House MD and totally freaking out about the prospect of seeing Bellatrix again on Monday.

Ginny was off at Harry's, and for once, Hermione enjoyed her friend's absence and the peace and quiet that came with it. The less people saw her like that, the better.

She called her parents, updating them on her academic progress and consequently ignoring questions about her love life.

No boyfriend in sight, sorry, Mum.

As she forced herself to eat some of the leftovers in her fridge, she sat in front of her laptop, trying to find some help on the internet. She had always been kind of clueless in the dating world, and that had been about interactions with boys.

Bellatrix certainly was no boy, and Hermione's experience with women was limited to a drunk snog during truth or dare in Year 11.

There were some pages dedicated to chatting up women, though, and Hermione, always the eager learner, absorbed all the information that was available.

At some point later that night, Hermione lost the fight against her raging hormones and let her fingers wander freely over her body in the dark of her bedroom.
She just had to imagine that it were Bellatrix's hands that pinched her nipples, the sensation on the edge between arousal and pain. Bellatrix gripping her hips, her neck, her long fingers slipping inside her…

With a gasp, she reached her peak. But her release, as usual, was short-lived as her actions only intensified her ache for the other woman.

—————————————————
King's Cross' familiar entrance hall had never looked more threatening to Hermione. She felt like she was walking towards her certain demise as she made her way over to the elevators on the other side of the lobby.

"Miss Granger, a word please."

Narcissa Malfoy's heels made a sharp, clicking sound on the polished floor as she approached Hermione, looking impeccable in a navy blue sheath dress that made the intern feel as if she was wearing a potato sack.

"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy. How can I help you?" she greeted the other woman dutifully. She was wary around her; the condescending words of the CFO still very much present in her mind.

"I was wondering how you enjoyed the gala on Saturday. You left in quite a hurry; Dr. Riddle was looking for you."
Narcissa's blue eyes narrowed as they bore into Hermione's. She felt like an insect pinned to a surface, wiggling around under the blonde woman's scrutiny.

"It was a wonderful event, again thank you so much for having me. But it also felt rather overwhelming, so I had to—"

"Do you think me a fool, Miss Granger?" Narcissa interrupted her, the woman's clenched jaw the only thing betraying her anger.

"No, I wouldn't—" Hermione's voice sounded shrill to her own ears, echoing in the almost empty room. It was as if people were deliberately giving Narcissa Malfoy a wide berth.

"You think I didn't see you sneak around with my sister? Your boss, might I add, who is one of this hospital's most esteemed physicians. Whatever it is the two of you did in that broom closet, it ends right now. You would do well to remember your place in this institution — and in general." Narcissa hissed, before turning around and storming off.

Hermione was furious, feeling absolutely humiliated by her boss's sister.

As usual, her emotions were written all over her face when she knocked on Bellatrix's office door five minutes later.

The woman sat behind her desk, nose burrowed in the latest copy of the BJS. As she looked up to regard Hermione, her face was instantly etched with confusion.

"What crawled up your nose, pet?"

When Hermione didn't answer instantly, Bellatrix jumped up from her chair and stalked towards her, coming to a stand way too close to her to be considered professional.

"Hermione?" she muttered, and the young intern looked up from the floor into her boss's eyes. There was confusion in them, and serious concern underneath. "Was it that bastard McLaggen again? I swear to God—"
Bellatrix's tone got progressively more furious, and Hermione knew she had to come clear.

"Your sister approached me in the entrance hall this morning," she began cautiously. She knew she had to tread carefully; she knew Bellatrix's volatile temper by now, and was also aware of the sisters' complicated relationship.
"Somehow, she noticed me disappearing into that closet with you Saturday night."

Referring to the event made a blush crawl up her neck, only intensified by the darkening of Bellatrix's eyes as she mentioned their encounter.

Hermione forced herself to keep talking, before her nerves took over.

"She basically told me to stay away from you and reminded me of my station here. And she's right, isn't she? I'm just an intern here and you're… you."

"Always with her bloody meddling," Bellatrix muttered under her breath, her hands clenched to fists at her sides. She took a step away from Hermione, but her black eyes never left the young woman's brown ones.

"I'll talk to Narcissa, pet, don't you worry. But there is something even more important you and I need to talk about," she spoke, her voice getting lower with each word. "Do you want to stay away from me?"

Hermione's breath hitched as her boss uttered the words, all the things she had wanted to discuss with Dr. Black wiped from her mind as the woman backed her up against the wall of the office.

A meticulously manicured nail traced her jaw, and she had to suppress the urge to close her eyes and bare her neck to the other woman.

"By now, you should know how much I despise not having my questions answered, don't you, Hermione."
Bellatrix's voice was soft, sensual even, but one would be a fool not to sense the underlying threat.

"No, ma'am. I don't want to.“ Hermione croaked, her voice quivering as Bellatrix still hadn't removed her finger from her heated skin.

"My, why so formal?" the other woman chuckled, her fingers moving towards the fine hair on the back of Hermione's neck, softly stroking higher.
"You know, usually I don't mix work and play. It tends to get awfully messy at some point, and I do like my job here. But you—" she tightened her fingers in Hermione's curls, and the pinching sensation made the girl draw in a sharp breath.
"You wouldn't do that, would you? You wouldn't make my life complicated like that. You'd rather be good for me, right, Hermione?" Her voice was like honey now, dark and sweet, playing around the edges of Hermione's name like a caress, and it sent every rational thought and every resolution she might've had about her boss flying out of the window.

"No, of course not," she whispered, leaning into the hand still clutched in her hair as she locked eyes with Bellatrix.

Apparently, that was all it took for Bellatrix's resolve to finally snap.
With a growled "Fuck, pet," she surged forward and claimed Hermione's lips with her own.

The intern knew she'd been hesitant, fearful of going too far with her boss, of acting unprofessional.
But right here, right now—with Dr. Bellatrix Blacks mouth pressed to hers, her hands tangled in her hair, and her body molded against that of the older woman—she was sure she would never, ever tire of the exhilarating thrill it gave her.

Bellatrix's lips were soft and warm; she tasted like coffee and smelled like some expensive perfume with an underlying hint of something dark and sweet.
A small bite to her bottom lip and Bellatrix's other hand grabbing her backside made Hermione gasp, and she couldn't resist the urge to grind her pelvis against the other woman's. She wanted more, wanted to be touched, tasted, taken…

With a growl, Bellatrix tore herself away from Hermione's lips. There were small blotches of red on her cheeks and her eyes were deep, seemingly bottomless pits of black as she stared down at Hermione.

"You have to go," she breathed, the shiver in her low voice evidence of her arousal, even as her body retreated from Hermione's.

"But I don't—"

"Your shift in the ER starts in 10 minutes, and if you don't leave my office right now, I'm going to bend you over my desk and take you in a way that will have you unable to sit, let alone work for the rest of the day, am I clear?"

"Crystal," Hermione whimpered, the surge of arousal she felt at her boss's words making it even harder to leave the woman's proximity.

"We're going to talk later, okay," Bellatrix murmured, her tone softer now as she pushed a lock of hair behind Hermione's ear.

"But off you go now, or you'll be in trouble with my dear cousin."

Gathering all her inner strength, Hermione left the office with one last longing look, but her boss's expression was unreadable again as she closed the door behind her.

Chapter Text

Bellatrix paced the length of her office like a caged tiger, her hands running through her hair, making the black curls even unrulier than usual.

She hadn’t planned on what had just happened. Like so often, her impulsive side had won, the one that made her scream at her coworkers, throwing instruments in the OR, the one that gave her reputation of being a nightmare to work with, a menace, crazy.

A mad bitch, Sirius had called her once.

Well, she certainly felt like she was going mad right now. Kissing the girl hadn’t been her plan at all.

She was her boss, for fucks sake.

No, she had just wanted to tease the girl a bit, to see that delicious blush crawl up her neck before sending her on her way.

But it had been just like the night of the gala. Her mouth had moved on autopilot, while her mind conjured vivid images of just how fucking good it would be to get her hands on the young doctor. That feeling was only intensified by the fury she felt over Narcissa’s interference.

For her, fury and lust were closely intertwined, both fueled by passion, both setting her body ablaze and making her act recklessly.

Maybe people were right, maybe she was mad.

But the girl had been so willing, so pliable, making it all too easy for Bellatrix to make her yield.

And now that she had tasted Hermione, felt those sweet, soft lips on hers, it felt virtually impossible to just leave it at that. Now, there was no turning back, she needed to have her.

She was like Eve in Eden, unable to resist the temptation right in front of her. And all she could do was hope it wouldn’t lead to her ruin.

_________________________

“What the hell, Hermione?“ Sirius snapped, yanking the IV set from Hermiones trembling hands. „This isn’t the patient who’s supposed to get the blood transfusion. It’s for Mrs. Graham in bay four!“

„Oh shit.“ the intern stuttered, turning as red as a beetroot underneath the shocked glances of her attending and the patient on the gurney in front of her. The poor woman’s eyes were wide like saucers as she wrenched her arm out of Hermiones grasp.

„I want to see another doctor.“ she yelled after Sirius, who already dragged a horrified Hermione out of the room and into the nurses‘ station.

Lavender,busy scribbling some notes into a patient file, scurried out of the room at the sight of Sirius‘s thunderous look.
It was the first time Hermione saw the resemblance to his cousin, and it terrified her.

„What the fuck was that in there?“ he hissed, taking a steadying breath to
before continuing, his voice calmer now.
„Look, doll, I know it’s like a madhouse in here today, but you have to stay focused. That poor woman could’ve gone into full-blown anaphylaxis.“

“I’m so sorry, Sirius, I don’t know what’s gotten into me today.“

Well, that was a lie. Hermione knew exactly what, or rather who, had gotten under her skin.

“We all make mistakes, but down here they can cost lifes. So whatever it is, get a grip on it.“ He gave her a firm pat on the shoulder before stepping out.

It only took seconds for Lavender and Cedric to barge into the room, placing a mug of tea on the desk in front of Hermione.

“Don’t worry, I made Mrs. Johnson from bay six a cuppa as well, to prevent her from totally loosing her marbles because of the transfusion.“ Lavender grinned, grabbing Hermiones hand in support.
“She’s calmer now, said she won’t sue.“

“Also, it’s not like something happened. That’s why we’re a team, to save each other from going to jail.“ Cedric added, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Hermione let out a tired chuckle and glanced over to the clock.
Only seven hours left. She could handle seven more hours, even if her whole body was still tingling, and she felt like she was flushed all over. She craved Bellatrix with an intensity that was almost absurd, especially considering her plan to 'do it once and be done with it‘, as Ginny had phrased it.

If this was how she felt and acted after a bit of making out, what would actual sex with the woman feel like?

I’d probably perish in the process.

But Bellatrix had made it clear—at least to some extent—that she was drawn to Hermione, hadn’t she?

Still, her boss was probably the most unpredictable and volatile woman in the entire kingdom; her violent mood swings constantly the talk of the department.

But God, how Hermione wanted her.

Hermione, who was usually a methodical and meticulous person. Hermione, who hated unpredictability with every fiber of her being. But this was different. She felt it was time to take a leap of faith, to let herself experience something real, for the first time in what felt like forever.

And Bellatrix would take care of her. She’d make sure they didn’t get caught.

Besides, Hermione was careful too ,usually anyway - today being the exception.

She gulped down the last bit of tea before heading out into the pit again. She felt much more focused now, and after a short lunch break, she hastily typed a message into her phone.

13:28
from: Hermione Granger

Can we meet up after my shift?

———————————————

Surprisingly, the reply came only an hour later, and Hermione read it with a grin so wide across her face that her colleagues whispered and pointed at her. Luckily, no one asked about her sudden burst of excitement.

14:35
From: Bellatrix Black
Come by my office once you’re done, I’ll keep it unlocked in case I’m still in the OR. Wait for me and don’t touch anything

The message was curt and, as usual, unsigned, but that did nothing to diminish Hermione’s exhilaration.

After an agonizingly slow handover, she dragged Ginny, who was on the peds ER night shift, into a supply closet at the far end of the pit. The old ceiling bulb hadn’t even fully sputtered to life before Hermione started talking.

“I’m going to her office right now.“ she squeezed her red-haired friends hand in giddy excitement.

“Wait a minute, who are we talking about?“ Ginny replied, her brain obviously still caught in the nap she always sneaked in right before night shift.

“Bellatrix! We kissed this morning, can you imagine?“

“Wait a moment, you did what exactly? Also, did you just call her Bellatrix? “

The slightly appalled note that had snuck into Ginny’s voice brought Hermiones enthusiasm down by a notch as she tried her best to lower her voice a tad.

“Yes, in her office.“ she sheepishly admitted to her friend “It just happened, I couldn’t prevent it.“

And certainly didn’t want to either

Ginnys eyebrows rose up.
“But she didn’t force herself on you or anything, right Mione?“ she asked carefully, like she was talking to a startled child instead of her best friend.

“No, of course not, believe me it was very much consensual.“ Hermione added hastily, feeling a giggle that was totally unlike any sound she had ever made bubble in her throat.

Ginny snorted as she leaned against one of the shelves, careful not to bring down the meticulously stacked boxes of bandages and gauze pads Colin had assembled just hours before.

“Ok, this is… new. Sorry, babes, I’m really happy that you’re happy, but you have to promise me to be careful. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that she let you snog her at work, of all places. And I also can’t believe you actually want to go through with one of my ideas.” She chuckled. “Where was that enthusiasm when I tried to set you up with all those guys at uni, huh?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend.
“I guess it just took someone interesting enough. But I could do without the whole her-being-my-boss thing, trust me.”

“Yeah, I get it, but I’m just baffled. You’re usually such a sucker for rules and everything, it’s kind of bewildering to see you so…laid back.“
She pulled her friend into a hug, whispering a soft “take care“ into her ear.

Seconds later Ginny’s pager went off in her pocket, startling the two girls out of their embrace.

“Off you go.“ Hermione said, ushering her friend away with a warm smile.

Now alone in the storage closet, she tried her best to gather every ounce of courage she possessed before making her way up to Bellatrix office.

—————————————

One strenuous climb to the fifth floor later, Hermione stood in front of the familiar door, a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead.

She silently cursed the elevator for being out of service and herself for her distinct lack of fitness.

The door was closed, and even after Hermione’s tentative knocking, there was no answer from behind it.

Remembering Bellatrix’s message, Hermione carefully opened the door and, after making sure no one was nearby, quickly slipped into her boss’s office.

Once inside, her eyes wandered around the room, eager to take in as many details as she could. She didn’t know when Bellatrix would return and wanted to gather as much information as possible about the enigma that was her boss.

Being a bookworm by nature, she was most intrigued by the innumerable books lining the huge shelves that covered an entire wall of the office. She figured it was acceptable to browse them while she waited. Bellatrix had only instructed her not to touch anything, after all.

The bottom shelf held more than a dozen magazine files containing the latest issues of The Lancet, NEJM, Transplant International, and many other journals Hermione had seen her boss study during their countless research sessions. Two files held only Bellatrix’s own publications, their distinctive ruby color setting them apart from the muted grey of the others. Hermione had to restrain herself from pulling one of the papers out of the file

No touching she reminded herself.

The upper shelves contained mainly medical literature, volumes and volumes of surgical textbooks, thick tomes on transplant care and a very worn copy of Gray‘s Anatomy.

In the far corner of the top shelf, Hermione could make out more colorful book spines, a stark contrast to the monochrome palette of the medical textbooks. They were too far up for Hermione to read the titles, but her curiosity was piqued.

Carefully, she maneuvered herself up the rickety wooden ladder on the far end of the shelf, coming to a stop when she was eye to eye with the books on the top.

Bellatrix apparently spent a great amount of time in her office, because the titles it made obvious that this was some sort of private collection assembled for her…entertainment.

There were classics of British literature, like Shakespeares Macbeth or Dickens Copperfield, but also a variety of thrillers, detective novels and even the occasional fantasy book. But it was a weathered issue of Wuthering Heights that Hermione felt oddly drawn to.

Just one quick look won’t hurt

She cast a wary glance over her shoulder, ensuring that the air was clear before carefully taking the book out out the shelf.

For all its wornness, it still looked expensive with it‘s dark green cover that felt velvety to her touch. It’s title, picked out in faded gold lettering, glimmered faintly in the office light. Hermiones fingers traced the delicate embossed pattern that wound itself across the books front and spine.

Carefully, she cracked the book open, steadying herself on the ladder which gave a faint, complaining creak.

Across the first page, just beneath the title and author’s name, someone had written in delicate penmanship:

Dearest Bella,
a very happy 19th birthday to you! We hope med school is treating you well.

With lots of love,
Andy and Cissa

That had to be Dr. Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy.

A small smile tugged at Hermione’s lips as she pictured a younger Bellatrix in her dorm room, unwrapping the book on her birthday, happy to be hearing from her sisters on her birthday. The volume was clearly a cherished possession, its worn edges and softened spine telling of years spent close at hand.

Hermione felt an odd feeling of reverence wash over her as she handled something that was so deeply personal to a woman as guarded and aloof as Bellatrix Black.

“What do you think you’re doing?“

The steely voice cut through the room like a blade, and Hermione could have sworn her heart stopped for a second.

Like in slow motion, she lost her balance, her hands too occupied with the precious book to grab the ladder for support. With an undignified squeak, she tumbled backwards, holding onto the book for dear life as she fell off the ladder. She already braced herself for the impact on the hardwood floor when two strong arms caught her just in time.

Hermiones eyes, which she had squeezed shut during the fall, were still closed, but her other senses were on high alert as she forced her nerves to calm down.

She could feel the warmth radiating from the body behind her, the tickling of soft curls on the bare skin of her neck and the toned arms around her waist, sending a delicious surge of heat through her body. There was a familiar smell, expensive perfume, a hint of disinfectant. But most of all, it was the heavy breathing and sharp inhale from the other person that made her tremble like a leaf.

Carefully, she opened her eyes, just before she was unceremoniously set down and spun around, to face the stone set face of her boss. For a woman that was so easily riled up, always one second away from an outburst, Bellatrix, surprisingly, hadn’t started screaming at her yet. Still, she looked at at Hermione like she was planning her demise, which wasn’t exactly reassuring either.

“Haven’t I explicitly told you not to touch anything?“ she hissed, her body coiled like a snake ready to strike at her prey.

She yanked the book out of Hermiones clammy hands, the careful way in which she put it on the surface of her desk a stark contrast to her livid expression.

“I’m so sorry, I was only curious,” Hermione replied meekly, cowering in front of her boss as one might faced with a wild animal.

Bellatrix’s arms were folded across her chest, her dark eyes blazing as she stared Hermione down, her mouth pressed into a hard, angry line.

Even though she was on edge, Hermiones courage hadn’t entirely failed her yet, and she would do anything to see that lazy, wonderful grin spread on the other woman’s face again.

“Thank you for catching me. If it weren’t for you, I could’ve gone straight back to the ER.” she stammered, her eyes darting everywhere except towards her boss.

Hermione was sure that the pitiful figure she was striking was the only reason Bellatrix didn’t murder her on the spot…or worse, fire her.

The faintest smirk flickered over Bellatrix’s lips for a second, a bit of the hardness dissolving.
“Lord, no. Macmillan is on trauma shift tonight. I’d rather have driven you to Royal London myself than leave you in his chubby hands.”

Hermione felt oddly warmed by the thought that Bellatrix might be concerned for her well-being. Perhaps, beneath that choleric exterior, there was at least a trace of empathy.

“Never touch any of my possessions again.” Bellatrix continued, her tone still flat but considerably less icy.

“I won’t, I promise.” Hermione replied softly, relieved to feel the tension slowly ebb from the room.

„Wuthering Heights, huh?“ the grin on Bellatrix face was all teeth now as she grabbed the book from her desk, absentmindedly stroking the cover before setting it down again, a devilish expression in her eyes.

“It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.“ Bellatrix‘ voice had taken on a low, velvety quality as she quoted the books protagonist, her words dragging over Hermiones skin like a lovers caress, the hairs on the nape of her neck standing up as her boss drawed closer.

„I-I haven’t read it, actually.“ Hermione stammered, tripping over her words like an awkward, lovestruck teenager in front of their first crush, her eyes cast to the ground, avoiding her bosses gaze.

The tip of a long, pale finger pressed beneath Hermiones chin, lifting it with a slow, deliberate force until her eyes had nowhere to hide from Bellatrix black ones.

“Tell me, pet,” she whispered, her face close enough to Hermione’s that the younger woman could feel the flicker of her hot breath against her skin. “Should I forgive you, when you obviously were so greedy to touch…”
Her finger trailed slowly down Hermione’s neck until it came to rest in the soft hollow beneath her throat, applying just enough pressure to make Hermione’s breath hitch and a desperate whimper escape her lips.
“…what isn’t yours.” Bellatrix finished, giving the young intern no time to answer before claiming her mouth.

If their first kiss had left Hermione breathless, this one almost made her heart give out. Bellatrix didn’t just kiss her, she devoured her, her hands everywhere, one of them buried in Hermiones curls, the other one on her lower back, pulling the young’s woman’s willing body against her own.

Hermione was shell-shocked by the onslaught of sensation, unable to respond for the first few seconds. Her hands hung limp and useless at her sides. But when Bellatrix finally pulled away, and Hermione caught sight of her boss’s dilated pupils and swollen lips, the stupor shattered.

With a whimpered “please“ she pressed her lips to Bellatrixes again, eager to explore the inviting body in front of her, the one she had fantasized about dozens of times in the previous weeks.
The other woman’s lips were soft and inviting, she tasted like coffee and cinnamon and Hermione arched her back, craned her neck, anything just to get closer.

When she slipped her hand under her bosses silken blouse and let her fingers wander across the soft skin she found there, the dark haired woman let out the filthiest moan she had ever heard, her strong fingers tightening on Hermiones hips.

In a matter of seconds, she had pushed the young intern against the wall next to the bookshelf, wasting no time as she let her thigh slide between Hermiones legs.

Desire, hot and heavy, pulsed through Hermione’s body, culminating in the spot where her aching heat pressed against Bellatrix’s thigh, only thin layers of fabric keeping her from the searing heat of skin on skin. God, how she craved the friction, anything to soothe the longing that roared through her. Her little whimpers and moans were answered by the tightening of Bellatrix’s grip on her body, the tug on her hair almost painful now. It drove her crazy with need.

But just as she began to really grind herself against Bellatrix leg, the other woman broke the kiss suddenly, holding her at arm’s length in an unyielding grip.

“Stop.” The word tore from between her clenched teeth, her deep voice breathless with what Hermione desperately hoped was an arousal that matched her own. “Not here.”

Hermione’s head swam, whether from her ragged breathing or the frantic flutter of her heart, she couldn’t tell. She only knew she wanted more.

“Please,” she whined again, her voice a high, keening cadence that would probably have made her die of embarrassment in any other context. But right now, nothing mattered except getting Bellatrix’s hands and mouth back on her. “I need this. I need you.“

“So bloody greedy.“ Bellatrix growled, before her mouth was back with a vengeance, this time on Hermiones neck, sucking and nipping at the soft flesh, letting her teeth scrape over the girls pulse point.
“Is this what you came for?“ the dark haired woman murmured against Hermiones flushed neck, her hot breath ghosting over skin.
“Getting off in your bosses office?
Don’t be shy, pet, admit it.“ And then she bit down, her teeth sinking into that sensitive spot between neck and shoulder, and Hermione let out a strangled gasp, the thin line between pain and pleasure blurring in the most exquisite way.

She was unable to string together a single proper sentence, the English language feeling like a strange and forgotten thing as Bellatrix hands slid under her sweater and palmed her breasts through the thin lace of her bra. The thumbs that skimmed over her sensitive nipples were enough for Hermione to break the contact and hastily pull the troublesome garment over her head, paying no mind to the static that made her hair stand on end like a glowing halo, not when Bellatrix mouth and hands were on her body a second later.

“My, my, aren’t you eager.“ came the low chuckle from the dark haired woman who was already busy opening the clasp of Hermiones bra, wasting no time as she attached her mouth to a stiff nipple. Hermione threw her head back and buried her hands into Bellatrix luscious curls, tugging on them until those delicious ruby lips were on hers again. She pressed her body to her bosses, enjoying the divine feeling of the woman’s silk blouse against her exposed, sensitive breasts.

“Yes, Please.“ Hermione breathed the word like a prayer now, again and again, not even sure what she was begging for. She only knew that her body was on fire and she was wet to an almost embarrassing extent, her core clenching around nothing as she was desperately trying to get any friction on it, some pressure to soothe that burning ache.

Hermione never had been so grateful for her choice of clothing as when Bellatrix nimble fingers finally found their way under the waistband of her loose woolen pants and pressed down onto her aching heat, the wetness evident even through the fabric of her underwear.

“Soaked, just as I thought.“ Bellatrix dark chuckle sounded in Hermiones ear through the throbbing of her accelerated pulse. The young woman arched her back to increase the pressure on those fingers, now grinding shamelessly against her bosses hand. Bellatrix other hand was back in Hermiones hair again, pinning her head against the wall while her mouth attacked Hermiones to swallow the increasingly loud moans tumbling out of it.

“Quiet!“ the other woman hissed against Hermiones bruised lips.
„You don’t want the whole bloody place to hear you.“

Still, her fingers continued their relentless pace, stroking Hermiones folds through her sodden underwear with quick precision.
“Such a good girl for me.“ Bellatrix husked, and hearing those words undid Hermione.
She felt her peak approach like a tidal wave, and her breathless, high pitched moans spilled through Bellatroxes fingers that were pressed on her mouth as it carried her away. She trashed helplessly beneath the flood of sensations, riding out every exquisite second until she finally collapsed against the warm, solid body in front of her.
Those cool fingers were still on her face, pleasantly soothing against her own burning, sweat slick skin.

Bellatrix brushed a stray curl from her face with surprising gentleness, and Hermione’s heart fluttered at the small, tender act. When she lifted her gaze, the older woman’s Cheshire Cat smile greeted her.

“Everything alright, pet?“

Hermione could only nod, a sudden rush of self consciousness overtaking her as she did her best to straighten her clothes and get her hair under control.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, looked impeccable, only her slightly rumpled silk shirt, hanging loose from the waistband of her trousers betrayed what she had been up to mere minutes ago.

“Do you want me to…?” Hermione asked, taking a step toward Bellatrix, her hand reaching for the other woman. But Bellatrix, as if struck, turned her back to Hermione, brusquely tucking her shirt back into her trousers before hastily entering the small en-suite and slamming the door behind her.

Hermione was frozen to the spot, feeling as if she had fallen from the cloud of dizzy contentment she had been floating on, crashing onto the harsh surface of reality.

She felt used, somehow, even though Bellatrix had gained nothing from the whole encounter. Still, it stung that her own advances had been so unwelcome.

All she wanted was to be held by the other woman again, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop her hands from trembling.

After what felt like hours, the door of the bathroom opened and Bellatrix emerged.

“You should leave.“ she adressed Hermione, her voice nonchalant, a sharp contrast to her wild, reckless behavior moments before . “I have tons of paperwork to get through, and you’ve stayed overtime long enough.“

“But you said we would talk.“ Hermione absolutely hated how desperate her voice sounded.

“This isn’t debate club, pet. Go home. I’m on call, and it won’t be long before those morons in the OR start crying for help.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis.

When she caught Hermione’s crestfallen look, Bellatrix’s expression softened for the briefest flicker of a second. Drawing a deep breath, she reached behind her desk to retrieve an item.

“You should read it, it’s a classic.“ she said, thrusting the green-bound book into Hermione’s hands, ignoring the young woman’s baffled expression.

“One dog-ear, and you won’t like the consequences.” Bellatrix muttered.

Despite the sharp edge in the other woman’s voice, Hermione couldn’t stop the small flicker of her heart as she slipped the book carefully into her backpack.

But deep down, she knew that those random acts of kindness, seeing Bellatrix’s human side, were far more dangerous to her than any fooling around could ever be.