Author's Note: Ok, all, this is an AU fic but it is AU only in the sense that it takes place in the distant aftermath of the war with Voldemort. Since it was started before book 6 or 7 came out, events do not synch up with canon. For this reason some characters are different. I've tried to make them believable and provide good explanations for the differences; so far no one has told me that I failed. So read away, give me some constructive reviews, and enjoy! (Also, this is a slightly revised version of the original – Amphitrite 2.0).
"Miss?"
No response.
"Miss! Could you please stop that?"
Hermione Granger snapped to attention, confusedly tearing her eyes from the blurred countryside outside the train window and refocusing them on the man that sat across from her in the compartment.
"Hmm?" she said airily.
"Your leg. You keep tapping your leg."
She looked down at her leg. Sure enough, it was bouncing slightly; her nervous energy was radiating out of her through the ball of her foot and her tensed calf muscle.
"Oh. I'm sorry. Didn't even know I was doing that," she apologized, flushing slightly. She got up and repositioned herself so that the offending limb was tucked underneath her.
"It's all right. I just…that bothers me," the man said, shrugging. "Are you nervous about something?"
Now there was a question. She was only going to one of the biggest excavations of magical artifacts to be discovered in the last decade. A massive repository of magical things – wands, cauldrons, enchanted objects – had been found beneath a beach on the coast of Greece after a cave-in. Thankfully there had been a few wizards on hand, including one quick-thinking Turkish wizard who obliviated the Muggle bystanders and cast some temporary repelling spells. It had given the proper authorities time to arrive, and the site was now secured. Experts from all over the world had poured in, and she'd been asked by one of her University professors (a specialist in ancient charms) to assist in the excavation – an internship of sorts. Not even the Imperius could have made her say no.
"I've just got a very good job opportunity, is all," she said, smiling. The man nodded, looking as though he understood.
"Good luck," he said, favoring her with a smile of his own.
"Thank you."
There was a lull in conversation for a while, but it was not entirely uncomfortable. Hermione returned her attention to the window for a few minutes, staring in unabashed awe at mile after mile of glittering coastline.
"Where are you from?"
"England," Hermione said, once again tearing herself away from the view.
"I thought so, from your accent," he said, nodding. "Do you think you'll be here long?"
"I hope so," she replied, her heart once again speeding up at the very thought of all the relics under the sand.
"Hey," he said, biting his lower lip slightly, "my name's Anatole. Perhaps some night I could take you to dinner…"
"Hermione," she filled in, feeling her cheeks heat up.
"Perhaps one night I could take you to dinner, Hermione?" he finished, not even stumbling over her name. She glanced at him; he was pleasing to the eye, as she had found most Greek men were. Tall, very tan, with dark, neatly trimmed hair, honey brown eyes, and a physique that hinted at a very healthy lifestyle. Of course she had to get settled in at the site first, but what harm would it be? She hadn't had a date in a while.
"Sure," she said, smiling warmly.
"Great!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "I'll show you what the Greeks are all about."
"I think I already know," she laughed. "I've seen that movie, after all."
"What movie?"
"The American one."
"Oh, Greek Wedding or whatever it was?"
"Yes, that's the one."
Anatole tipped his head back and laughed. "Well, not all of us roast lamb on a spit in our front yards. And we know what a bundt cake is. And I'd kill my sister if she ever made her bridesmaids wear a dress like that. I will admit that we like our ouzo, though."
"I don't believe I've ever had ouzo."
Anatole gave her a mock-horrified look. "We'll have to fix that, won't we?"
"I suppose so."
From there they fell into an easy conversation full of good-natured flirting. Eventually Anatole came over to sit next to her, and within a half an hour their legs were crossed towards each other, their knees bumping occasionally. Anatole was an entertaining storyteller, and she burst out giggling more than once when he related anecdotes about his siblings, complete with voices, hand gestures, and other hilarious impersonations. He seemed pleased that he could make her laugh and grew a bit bolder, touching her occasionally in innocuous places – her shoulder, her wrist, her knee. She found herself focusing on his lips as he spoke. There was definitely some chemistry here.
It was a four hour train ride, but the last two hours went by in a blur. As they neared the end of the journey, Anatole programmed his phone number into her cellular phone. She wrote hers on a scrap of paper, which he put in the back pocket of his jeans.
"You probably won't be able to reach me when I'm at work," she warned. "Cell phones don't work there. So I guess you'll have to wait for me to call you."
One of his eyebrows arched, and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
"I see. Well, don't break my heart, Hermione."
"I won't. But it might take me a while to get settled in, so…"
"So don't expect a call for at least a week."
She nodded apologetically.
"I understand. You're a working girl," he said, winking.
They continued to banter until the train slowed and stopped. He helped her with her luggage and squeezed her shoulder slightly when he saw her off. She climbed into the taxi and waved at him as it pulled away. For a little while, she didn't think of anything. But about ten minutes into the ride, she found that she was lonely. Anatole's presence was…warming, to say the least.
Perhaps it would be less than a week before she made good use of her phone.
The sun was sinking low on the horizon when she finally arrived at the site. It was quiet and no one was about, at least no one she could see, but she knew it was the right place by the faint hum of magic that surrounded the tranquil beach. The enchantments and Muggle repelling spells were masterful. She, even as a witch, could not see where the cave-in was until she stepped inside the magical boundaries. As she did a hot tingle coursed through her body; the shielding spell was set to scan everyone that went through. She smiled at the fact that her presence was expected. She'd dreamed of a situation and an opportunity like this, and now here she was, right in the thick of it.
She glanced around, dropping her bags into the sand. She could see the edge of the large fissure a few hundred yards to her left. A twinkle told her that the sand along the edges had been melted into glass to stabilize it. She pulled her sweater on and rubbed her arms through the cotton. The breeze had picked up and the sun was an egg yolk on the horizon.
The ocean air smelled wonderful. Hermione had always regretted that she'd lived inland most of her life. She would have liked to spend her summers on the shores of southern France, like some of her rich classmates had. Better yet, she would have liked to grow up along a briny shoreline, getting seaweed in her bathing suit and going home crusted in dried salt with handfuls of sandblasted seashells.
She had seen those beaches on vacation with her parents. They were beautiful, but not like this. The sand was soft beneath her feet, almost velvety, and the sea so calm. This wasn't how she had imagined Greece would be. That wasn't to say it was a disappointment; far from it. It had an atmosphere that put her at ease.
She kicked off her sandals and began a sedate stroll down the coastline. Perhaps everyone was off eating dinner somewhere; it was about that time, her stomach dutifully reminded her with a growl. She would gladly have joined them if she only knew where to go. So she kept walking, stopping only when she made it to the gaping hole in the sand. She couldn't see much since the light was fading, but it excited her nonetheless. Had she been in a more adventurous mood, she would have gone down and poked around. But it was her first day and she had to make a good impression. Going down there uninvited and unsupervised was not the way to go.
She walked further still, wondering how large of an area the wizards and witches had marked off. She counted each step she took, watching as the moist sand squelched between her toes and glancing back at the solitary pair of tracks she left. Hermione looked up one hundred paces later and nearly jumped when she spotted another person down the beach. She hoped the person was still inside the boundaries of the site; that way, he or she could tell her where to find her Professor.
As she got closer it became clear that it was a man. He was sitting with his back to her, wearing a short-sleeved white shirt that was obviously unbuttoned since she could see the edges fluttering in the wind. His lower half was clad in black pants, either rolled up or cropped to mid-calf. Bare feet and just a hint of darkly tanned leg showed, and as she watched, he absently buried his toes in the sand. Her eyes drifted up to where dark hair spilled an inch or two over the shirt's collar. His hair seemed black, but when the light struck it, it turned out to be that shade of brown just before black. Half of it was tied back haphazardly with an elastic band, probably so it wouldn't get in his face as he worked intently.
A small smile made its way onto her face. Perhaps now she would meet a Greek wizard. There seemed to be no shortage of gorgeous men around here, Muggle and wizard alike. He did not notice her approach, so absorbed he was by his work. But he gave a slight start when she spoke.
"Excuse me, Sir, do you work on the site?" Hermione asked, speaking a bit slower in case English wasn't his first language.
"You needn't speak to me as if I'm a child," he replied. "This is an International Zone. Everyone understands everyone else, by virtue of the Babel spell."
Cold sentiment, but his voice was warm with amusement. She should have known that anyway.
"I was just trying to be courteous. I've just arrived, and no one is around but you. Where is everyone, and where should I put my bags?"
"I don't believe I've ever been asked to be a bellhop before," he said cheekily, still not even turning around to acknowledge her.
Hermione sighed. She had hoped she wouldn't be treated mockingly by the older excavators, but this man seemed determined to run her through the gauntlet.
"What have you got there, anyway?" she asked, stepping forward to look over his shoulder.
"You see, it's a…" he began, craning his neck up and around to look at her. Then he fell silent, his eyes widening.
Hermione had more or less the same reaction, except for the added bonus of a choked squeak that escaped from her gaping mouth. Oh Merlin…it couldn't be! But it was. As plain as day, it was.
She'd found a Professor all right. Just not the right one.