A/N: This is only a filler chapter, hence, the different title.

As you may have noticed, I'm using British English (or at least I try to). You'll encounter a few British terms. Okay, just 2 or 3.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is still not mine. Amanda Watson, however, is. :)

Chapter 8 – Guilt

Hermione shuffled unsteadily to her kitchen to get some drinks, her mind feeling light-headed from the kiss with Amanda. Even though they had kissed more intense and deeper than that before—whether intoxicated, or magnetised by Amanda's celestial blue eyes, or just out of impulse quite like earlier—Hermione could still not get her head around the thought that she was enjoying this physically affectionate act with another woman.

Hermione reminded herself once again that she did this not out of personal enjoyment, but for a reason. Whether Zabini, who had started all of this, or Ginny, who encouraged her to this, or Draco, this charade was aimed for, knew about her actually kissing Amanda, she didn't know. Though she had confided in Ginny about their accidental first kiss, but she trusted her friend to keep it a secret. What Ginny didn't know, however, was that Hermione had been making out with Amanda now and again, and the last few times didn't at all serve as a turn-off for Draco Malfoy.

Perhaps the whole plan was slowly starting to get out of hand.

~.~.~

An indefinite period of time later that same evening and after their conversation that turned into a heated argument, Amanda had Apparated home. Hermione couldn't help but notice that the younger woman had left as distraught as she was when she had arrived at Hermione's place earlier. Except this time, she had masked her emotion with a strained smile that looked unnatural on her pretty face.

Once alone in her flat and sitting on her bed while trying to read a book, Hermione thought about the evening...

Hermione had asked Amanda upfront whether she was a Legilimens, and if she had read her mind that revolved around her past with Draco Malfoy, thus, having illegally invaded Hermione's privacy.

Hermione couldn't hide the fact that she was displeased by this notion, because her past with Draco was nobody's business—not even Ginny, who was her main confidante, knew everything about her and Draco, especially not that one secret they shared together.

Amanda had looked offended by this accusation and had assured Hermione that she'd never invade and sift through people's minds, and that Hermione would have noticed if her mind was being read. The same thing Ginny had said. And Hermione knew this, too. Perhaps, part of her just wanted to assure if she could trust Amanda—someone she knew very little about, yet seemed to know so much about her.

"How come you knew what I was thinking then?" Hermione had asked her.

"Maybe I only guessed right?" Amanda had said with a shrug. "You're easy to read, just by looking at you. I know someday you'll just throw away everything you have and achieved in life and go with him to those places he promised to take you to." Then she snorted, as if disgusted. "You're not even aware of the things you do or say when he's around, are you? Like when he looks at you and speaks to you, you're—you're not yourself. You're hanging on his every word, as if no one else's in the room except for him."

What? Was she? "No, that's not true!" Hermione had exclaimed, flabbergasted. Was that how she was being perceived on the outside?

Amanda had merely scoffed. "Ever heard of 'You create your own reality' or 'you are what your think your are'?" she asked her all of a sudden, throwing Hermione off-guard, "If you are in denial about your true feelings for Mr. Malfoy, convincing yourself to hate him, you will consciously, deliberately, tell people or try to act as if you hate him. You'll develop bad emotions like anger and guilt because you're not only lying to others, but mainly to yourself. And that, eventually, will damage you on the inside."

"Alright, now you don't only possess Seer qualities, predicting my future life with Malfoy, but you're the Psychologist again, analysing my psyche. Jesus, all your great talents gone wasted when you decided to become a secretary and…" Hermione trailed off, biting her tongue quickly; she didn't want to add fuel to the fire. Though she'd only wanted to hurt Amanda for making her feel emotionally exposed and vulnerable, she was never one to judge people by the kind of job they'd chosen as their profession. Instead she spat, "I don't feel anything for him. He's married, for Christ's sake!"

"Oh, you must have a pretty high opinion of yourself for belittling me like this. And it's not the first time," Amanda had said disdainfully, shaking her head. "He's married, eh?" she had echoed, "is that excuse even enough anymore?"

Hermione sighed deeply when she banished this argument from her mind. She closed her book and put it on the nightstand beside her. There was no way Amanda was right and she'd prove that to her, and everyone who believed this—including Astoria Malfoy—once Draco returned from Italy.

~.~.~

The next morning, Amanda had called in sick and Timmy worked for her instead. There wasn't a lot of work to do anyway except for three meetings to attend to.

For the first time, Hermione left the office early and Apparated to the Ministry to pay Harry a surprise visit. No matter how well she got along with either Ginny, with whom she spent some lunchtime a week together, or Amanda, if they weren't having some miscommunication, Hermione missed the company of a male friend.

Harry just knocked off work when Hermione met him. He was delighted upon seeing her, pulling her into a body-crushing hug.

"Hello stranger," Harry said to her, "good to see you. I thought you'd never leave the office ever and that you'd moved all your stuff in there."

"Don't be silly," Hermione giggled, "last time I went over to your place, you weren't there. You have no idea how stressful it can be dealing with couples and their marital problems."

"My job is as stressful as yours, Hermione," Harry said, leading her to a small café in Diagon Alley, "but I can at least take the time out of my busy schedule and Owl you once in a while."

Hermione felt guilty for being such a bad friend. Even Ron, whose Auror training station was located in Versailles and only came during the holidays or on special occasions, Owl'ed or Floo'ed them more frequently than she did. And Draco, who travelled across the world as an Auror Owl'ed her more often, but that was a different story.

"So, how are you?" Harry asked once their food was served in front of them. "Have you been eating properly? You look too meagre, Hermione."

"Oh, you know, you sound like your future mother-in-law." Thinking about the Weasleys family and The Burrow made Hermione feel more guilty and worse because she hardly Owl'ed them. She made a mental note to make up for that, or at least Floo them once she got home.

"Speaking of which, dunno if Ginny told you already," Harry said, devouring his beef steak, "Molly invited us to lunch tomorrow. Ginny was gonna Owl you or tell you after her Quidditch training. Did you see her today?"

"No, we don't usually meet on Fridays," Hermione said absent-mindedly, nibbling on her chips.

"Hermione, what's the matter?" Harry asked warily, eyeing her from across the table.

"What? Why?" Hermione said, furrowing her eyebrows at the sudden worried expression on Harry's face, "Oh, lunch sounds great, by the way. Tell her I'll be there. Ron Owl'ed me about two weeks ago. Apparently, he met a girl there—I forgot her name, Cynthia or Cindy—a fellow trainee, but I'm sure you know about that already. Oh, he sends me expensive wines once a month; I think he's turning me into an alcoholic." She giggled softly. "By the way, do you have a date yet for your wedding?" Hermione rambled on, watching as Harry's eyebrows disappeared in his hair. "What?" Suddenly, she was feeling self-conscious about herself. She tucked a curl behind her ear and averted her eyes from Harry's.

"Are you sure you're okay, Hermione?"

"Yes!" Hermione half-shrieked, growing agitated. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because I think something's bothering you," Harry pointed out, now his eyes were narrowing down at her suspiciously. "Did something happen at work? Or is everything fine with your family?"

"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed. More guilt. Because she hadn't seen her parents since last year in Christmas, and that was now eight months ago. She had written her mother a birthday card and sent her a little gift from a store nearby, and it wasn't even her who bought it—she had requested her secretary to do it. "Mum and Dad are fine. Work is great. I eat too much, I think. And I can't wait to see Molly and the rest."

Harry seemed fine with this answer and nodded. "But you look a bit pale. You should go out more often. It's currently off-season for the Holyhead Harpies, so Ginny won't be working too much. I suggest you hang out with her and do your girly stuff together, whatever you girls do…" he flinched and corrected himself, "…erm, women, I mean. And no, we have no date for the wedding yet. It's currently too hectic at the Ministry, and even though Ron's doing this special Auror training, and Malfoy, surprisingly, is doing a great job in Italy, I deem it not safe enough yet. We've only captured a handful of remaining Death Eaters and…Hermione?"

Hermione had stopped listening to Harry once she heard his name. He would be back next week and she'd have to face him. She'd resolve this once and for all. Amanda was wrong. Ginny was wrong. Zabini was wrong. Astoria Malfoy was wrong.

He didn't love her. And most certainly, she did not have feelings for him.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Hermione banished all thoughts of him from her mind. She'd have to deal with him later.

Harry was now looking at her rather worriedly, for she had gone completely silent. It was unusual that Harry did all the small talk and Hermione the one who'd sit listening.

"Hermione? Seriously, you're freaking me out," Harry remarked, leaning back in his seat.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I have to go," Hermione said, looking in her purse for a Galleon bill. Harry waved it off, watching her as she stood up and gave him a peck on the cheek, heading outside the café quickly.

~.~.~

In the evening, when Hermione was about to take a hot bubble bath, wearing just a towel around her torso, a loud banging was on her door. She peeked through the peephole. Ginny stood there, looking angry.

She opened the door. "What's the matter?" she asked.

Ginny walked straight inside without waiting for Hermione to invite her in, then turned on her. "I should be asking you this, what's the matter? Harry got home, looking all worried and told me that you went to see him after work. And then you left as quickly as you came." Then, upon looking Hermione up and down, Ginny stormed off to the living room, then disappeared in her bedroom, the guest room, her study room, and then went back, fuming. "Is he here? Are you hiding him?" she screeched.

"What? Who? Harry's not here," Hermione said, amused and confused.

"This is so not funny, Hermione Jean Granger, you know who I'm talking about. Malfoy!" Ginny cried, "It's because of him you're acting like this, right? I didn't tell Harry, but judging from what he's told me, I knew at once what happened."

"Jesus! Will you please quit making a fuss? Nothing's happened; I would've told you, wouldn't I? You and Harry are making a mountain out of a molehill; I'm fine. I was just going to take a bath."

Ginny let out a long-suffering sigh. "Harry said you've been acting strange; and I've to agree that you look too pale and skinny now. So I came over to check on you."

"I'm sorry if I worried you, but I'm really fine," Hermione reassured her, sitting on the couch and crossing her legs. "Anything else?"

"So, you're coming to lunch tomorrow? I already told Mum."

"Yes, I will," Hermione said, forcing out a smile. "Was that all?"

"Yeah." Ginny shrugged, she leaned against the doorframe, saying, "You'd tell me if something's happened, right? If he's trying to mess you up or something?" Hermione just nodded, biting her thumbnail. "And by the way, I've invited Amanda, too."

"You did what?" Hermione almost lost her towel that was covering her naked torso. "Ginny, you didn't! Why would you? You're always embarrassing me in front of her."

"Why are you freaking out? Thought it'd be nice to ask her, but she declined anyway," Ginny said, "she said she's ill."

"Yes, she called in sick today."

"You should check on her. Do you know where she lives?"

"Why the heck should I do that? I'm not her mother."

"Hermione, she's your friend. Aren't you at least a bit concerned about her well-being?" Ginny chided her.

"I think she's old enough to take care of herself, Ginny. I don't know where she lives, anyway. Besides, I don't think she's really ill. We had a sort of little argument yesterday when she came over. So I assume she just doesn't want to see me at the moment."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "An argument? About what?"

Taking a deep breath, Hermione told Ginny about her argument with Amanda, where she might have had hurt Amanda's feelings. Once she finished her story, Ginny seemed slightly irritated and scowled at Hermione.

"Merlin! Is Ron's behaviour wearing off on you or did you become such an insensitive, cold-hearted bitch because of your fucking job?" Ginny barked angrily. "I think you owe her an apology, Hermione!"

"I…I should apologise? She's the one trying to manipulate me—"

"Yeah, whatever, I'll stay out of it," Ginny replied, holding up her hands in a relinquishing manner, "she's your girlfriend, not mine. See you tomorrow."

Ginny spun on her spot and Apparated home before Hermione had the chance to correct her that Amanda wasn't her girlfriend.

~.~.~

Hermione took her bath and got dressed, deciding to Apparate back to her office to get Amanda's address from the staff directory. It wouldn't hurt to check on her while she wasn't feeling well, Hermione thought, so long as it shut Ginny up and soothe her own conscience.

Twenty minutes later, upon wandering the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley and turning into a familiar dark, grungy alleyway, she found herself in the middle of Knockturn Alley.

Hermione wondered for a brief second if she got the right address, readying her wand under her robe as she moved past dodgy wizards, street vendors, goblins, and other creepy-looking creatures. Soon enough she found the building she was looking for, but was surprised upon discovering that Amanda Watson—who appeared rather well-off when she moved around the office in expensive dresses—lived in a dilapidated and decrepit block of flats. As if it wasn't bad enough already that it was located in Knockturn Alley. But then again, who was Hermione to judge?

"This can't be the right address," Hermione murmured to herself, noticing that plywood was covering some of the windows. Next to the building was a small store that sold suspicious looking objects and items, amongst which she identified black candles, shrunken heads, evil-looking masks, and what looked like human bones. Recoiling from the wafting stale odour, she turned to a street vendor that sold rabbit paws and animal skulls, asking the wizard if there was another building with the number 24B.

The wizard was tall, had dark eyelids and black front teeth, and he wore a long, black worn-out robe. As he leaned closer to her, his nostrils flared as though drawing in her scent deeply. He gave a low, guttural moan. Hermione backed away, pulling her wand out and ran inside the building number 24B.

It was worse inside. There was a horribly damp smell, the odour of unwashed bodies wafting through the air, and an annoying drip from the ceiling, while the hallway was lit by lanterns. As she scanned the squalid place she wondered, could Amanda perhaps have given false information? Was she hiding from someone? No young witch in her right mind would choose to live in a place like this. Despite herself, however, Hermione went up the creaky staircase.

No way Amanda lives here, Hermione thought again.

When she reached Amanda's presumed flat, she knocked carefully on the door, her wand ready in her hand in case she did confuse the flat and a psychopath leapt at her. Why did she have to come all by herself, and in the evening? Why did she have to listen to Ginny in the first place? Though it was more her own guilt that had driven her to see Amanda tonight.

After another knock, louder this time, the door creaked open. And there was the familiar face, looking pale and having dark circles under her eyes, staring at Hermione in a mixture of shock, surprise, and disbelief.

"Wh-What are you doing here?" Amanda gasped, her mouth hanging open. She wore a big sweater that reached to her thighs and sweat pants, and had a blanket around her shoulders, whilst in one hand she readied her wand. In her shock she slammed the door in Hermione's face shut.

"Oh Cripes! Amanda, please, will you talk to me?" Hermione called self-consciously, feeling as though she was being watched by the other tenants, "I came all the way here and you just slam the door in my face?"

"I didn't ask you to!" came Amanda's muffled response.

From the door across Amanda's flat, a short witch in dark green robes emerged between the door crack. She was scanning Hermione with her eyes before she said something incoherent in a rather shaky voice.

"Yon Mattie's fren?" the old witch said in unfamiliar dialect, "Yon Mattie's fren?" she asked a bit louder when Hermione failed to respond.

Hermione banged again against Amanda's door, keeping her eyes on the old witch.

"Yon Mattie's fren? Mattie?"

Hermione smiled nervously and nodded. "Y-Yeah, A-Amanda. She-She lives here."

"Mattie? Mattie?"

Then finally, Amanda opened the door and pulled her inside, closing it instantly and locking it several times with her wand.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again, her voice raspy. "Didn't you know how dangerous it is here, Miss Granger, and it's already dark outside. And you came all by yourself?"

"You live here!" Hermione stated a bit dumbfounded. She noticed that a sweet, fresh fragrance dissipated the odour that came from the hallways outside; she took a moment to breathe, calming down her nerves that resulted from the nightmare outside.

"Yes, I live here. Great observation, Sherlock," Amanda said sarcastically, then looked over her shoulder to Hermione and smiled wretchedly.

"Well, thank you, my dear Watson!" Hermione retorted childishly, stemming her fists in her hips.

Amanda tilted her head to one side, her shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry, Miss…Hermione, I have really not been feeling well all day and my brother just left after staying for two hours, making sure I'm still alive and will survive this. He was getting my hackles up, I swear, that stupid prat." Then she collapsed on her makeshift bed rather ungracefully, coiling up under her woollen blanket.

Hermione moved to sit on the mattress in which Amanda was lying, that seemed to be only seating area in the room. Amanda had her head hidden under the blanket, refusing to make eye-contact with Hermione. She didn't blame her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, tugging at the blanket. "Do you have a fever?"

"Dunno, just feeling a bit dizzy," Amanda said groggily, still refusing to emerge from under the blanket.

"You were all fine yesterday; how come you got sick? Have you been dancing naked in the rain all night, or what?" she asked softly, trying to lighten up the mood. She tugged at the blanket again.

"No, don't look at me. I don't want you to see me like this," Amanda protested, "I look hideous."

"Don't be silly!" said Hermione. "I won't stay long, don't worry. I just came to-to apologize. It's just…you seem to know me well—too well, to be honest—yet I know nothing about you. It's disconcerting; I mean the fact that you know me so well. Amanda?"

Amanda pulled the blanket down, her face now only half-hidden. "Hmm…apology accepted," she mumbled curtly, then hid her face again. Hermione rolled her eyes, emitting a soft chuckle. Then she took in her surrounding with one glance.

It was just a one bedroom flat. The room was the living room and bedroom combined, and was probably the same size as Hermione's own bedroom, with only one small window. The walls were splashed with a dull beige, the wooden flooring covered with a plush carpet. There were posters along the wall. Three of four gas lamps were illuminating from each corner, filling the room with soft light. Aside the wardrobe at the wall, a coffee table at the centre, and another table with dishware and cutlery on it, and a chair piled up with books and folders, the room was rather unfurnished.

After a prolonged silence, Amanda looked up again. "You're probably wondering why I'm living in this craphole," she said bluntly, frowning.

"What?" How does she…? Hermione furrowed her eyebrows but refrained from commenting. "N-No, well, okay, maybe," she replied honestly. "Don't get me wrong, but I happen to know your monthly income, Amanda, you can afford a much better place than…this." She gulped, hoping she didn't sound rude.

"With all due respect, ma'am, but my plain and shabby living is no concern of yours," said Amanda, her face twisting up in pain, "and if this…is…" she moaned, getting up quickly from her bed, held up a finger, and disappeared in the bathroom. Retching sounds followed, causing Hermione to panic. She followed Amanda into the bathroom.

"Oh my goodness, are you all right?" she shrieked as she stepped behind Amanda, rubbing her back.

Hermione performed a cleansing charm on Amanda and helped her back to her bed, tucking her in.

"You should leave, please go," Amanda sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

"Are you serious? I can't possibly leave you in this condition," Hermione snapped. "You have to see a Healer!"

"No, it's probably just food poisoning or a stomach bug, nothing serious." She coughed in her fist, moaning.

"Don't be stubborn." Hermione shook her head; then an idea struck her. "You know, I have a guestroom at home. And a warm bed. I even have heaters, so it's never cold."

"Nice," Amanda mumbled, "and I have a wardrobe that leads to Narnia. What else you've got?"

Hermione laughed at her sarcasm. "You've read the Chronicles of Narnia? That's my favourite when I was a child. I didn't know you read Muggle books."

"'Course I do, I'm part-Muggle after all, and part-Witch," she answered, "and part-secretary."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, feeling miserable at the way she'd treated Amanda. "I told you I was sorry, Miss Watson! Is this your cell phone?"

Amanda didn't even bother to look up or open her eyes when Hermione held the small flat screened device in her hand. "Hmm…" she mumbled, "but you know you can't call a Healer from that, don't you?"

"Jeez, you've even got an iPod," Hermione remarked, disregarding her statement. "Where's your wand?"

"Here," Amanda groaned weakly, noticing that Hermione had just tucked the cell phone, iPod, and wand in her robe pocket. "Hey, what are you doing? Are you robbing me? No, please, I need those."

"I'm not robbing you, silly," said Hermione, pulling Amanda's blanket aside and lying beside her. She held her close to her and brushed her hair from her pale face. "Hold on tight," she said playfully, "I'm going to kidnap you."

Then they Side-Along Apparated back to her flat.

A/N: Yeah, that's Amanda's true way of living. By the way, I have no prejudices against Lawyers, or Psychologists, or Secretaries. Everything I write here is just for the plot.

Anyway, if, for some reason, you happen to subscribe for an update (most of you certainly have already) because you like it so far, I hope you feel inclined to also leave a short comment/review/response/feedback below. Thanks. c",)