Morning before business hours start. The ministry of magic, London. One of the many bathrooms where office women fix their make-up to their satisfaction before presenting themselves to work. And where they gossip. Mainly gossip.

Today's topic of said gossiping was the same as the last few days'. That is, the suspicious atmosphere between a certain building idol and a certain war heroin.

"Did you see yesterday at the cafeteria? She walked around his table and he so obviously stared at her legs!" Secretary A said.

"What? No way, I didn't notice! God, I wish he would stare at me, too, with those sexy eyes of his..." Secretary B sighed while applying lipstick on her lips.

"I saw, I saw! He was sooo obvious!" Secretary C squealed excitedly. "And at the meeting of our department, when I came with the coffee, they were sitting opposite each other and kept insulting each other while exchanging these totally suspicious looks. I'm telling you, they'll be screwing before Christmas."

Secretary B glared at Secretary C, "I am so jealous of you, you know. You work at the same department as him! You get to see him all the bloody time! And you get to talk to him. I can only pitifully steal glances when he comes to the cafeteria once in a while."

Secretary A looked at Secretary B with slight disgust. "I can never understand what you all see in him. He's not that handsome. Or more like he's not handsome at all. Sure, he has the money. I'll give you at least that. But anyway, he's obviously practically taken. It's just a question of time."

Secretary B dropped her lipstick, scandalised expression adoring her face. "You're the one with weird taste; how can you say that! He's perfect! Look at that body, that face!"

"Yeah, he sure is easy on the eyes," agreed Secretary C. "But, you know, he's such an ass. Like, seriously, whenever I have to deliver him something, I dread what insult will I get this time? He's only good for looking at."

"And that's why this whole huge building full of his fans hasn't started a war against the poor woman, yet," murmured Secretary A.

"No," opposed Secretary B, "it's because she's scary as hell. All of the fans go against her and the ministry is without any employees. "

There was a moment of silence and checking of hair from every possible and impossible angle before Secretary A suddenly proposed something that would certainly land her in a grave, if some rather-not-be-named people, who were the arch-enemy of nearly all women (and a few men, for the record) in the ministry, found out. She smirked and looked at Secretary C with a look that made her fear what was coming. "Hey, you said they'll be screwing before Christmas, right?"

"Uhm, yeah?"

"Wanna do something fun?"

"Like what?" asked Secretary B wearily.

"Like having a bet on when they get together. We could make it a whole ministry event!"

"That sounds dangerous. But fun, too. I'm in." Secretary C was the one who answered without thinking. As long as the woman doesn't know, all's good. She doesn't care for gossip, so what's the danger?

In that moment the door to the bathroom opened. The three plotting women froze. They were so sure it was her.

But it wasn't. It was Secretary D.

They let out a sigh of relief; they get to live just a little longer.

"Huh? What's with those faces?"

"Oh, it's nothing. By the way, wanna join in on this little bet we're starting?" asked Secretary C in response.

"Depends on the point."

"You know how those two are totally married already right?" Secretary D nodded to show she's catching on. "The question is when they start actually dating. I'm saying... before two months are over," explained Secretary A.

"My guess is Christmas," voiced her opinion Secretary C.

"One month."

"How much is the bet?"

"Oh, that's not decided, yet. But probably the usual?"

"Hmm... Well then I'd say... for example..." contemplated Secretary D. "A month and a half?"

"Oki-doki!" exclaimed merrily Secretary A as she fished for her notebook to take down notes of their bets.

"Ha! You all lose!"

All four of them jumped and turned their heads towards the still opened bathroom door.

And there she was. Ginevra Weasley, with a wide satisfied grin on her pretty face.

They were dead. The best friend of the one person they don't want to know the most has to overhear them. Just their luck.

"Um, it was just a joke. We didn't mean it seriously?" piped up Secretary C.

"It doesn't matter, I don't care. I'm just kindly informing you you all lose. I'm the one who already won this bet three months ago."

"Hey, Hermione?"

"What is it, Ginny?"

"I sincerely apologise, but I just couldn't help myself, okay?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Um, about the tabloid reporters that will most probably swarm around your place first thing tomorrow morning..."