Chapter Seventeen
Hermione slowly dressed to get ready to go to her Mastery completion ceremony with Aberforth and Melok. After tonight, she'd be a fully awakened Mage. It wasn't her impending status that was making her nervous about this evening however, but rather about seeing her Goblin mentor. She'd not seen Melok since their conversation directly following the big meeting with the others, when all cards had been laid on the table in regard to the direction their relationship was taking.
Love.
In no way was Hermione regretting her marriage to Sirius Black. She loved her husband deeply, even with her growing feelings for Melok gnawing in the back of her mind. Sirius was her best friend, and in most things her truest confidant. He understood her in ways nobody else could because he'd been there with her through three realities. It was unsurprising, really, that they'd come together as a couple. It was a natural conclusion, and Merlin knew they were sexually compatible. Of course, the body never really mattered too much to Hermione. In her mind, if she loved the soul, loving the body came par for the course as an after effect. She could easily become attracted to someone's physical form if she was attracted to their mind first, which admittedly had made her life while being only interested in casual sex more difficult. It was a challenge to get to know someone well enough to grow attracted to them when attraction was based on an interest in the mind. However, when the end goal had been orgasms and there was no real intent to repeat the performance, it hadn't really mattered much to her if she was terribly attracted to them in the first place, and so she'd leaned more toward whoever was attracted to her.
Hermione's thoughts briefly flickered to Minerva. Gods knew that there was an attraction there, although if it was ever acted on remained to be seen. She'd been honest with Aberforth when she said she was disinclined to taint Minerva in that way, especially while she remained so young and innocent. Yet, there was a powerful draw with the harmonic magic that was difficult to ignore. Absently, she wondered why, if harmonic magic was supposed to be one of the strongest sexual draws in the known world, she felt herself drawn to Melok just as much as she was to Minerva, if not moreso.
Perhaps if Minerva was the harmonic to Hermione, then Melok was the melodic, she mused. With Minerva, it felt like a song to be sung. With Melok, a dance to be danced. Sirius, to give a musical equivalent, was her perfect rhythm, his every step matching hers beat for beat. In their relationship, his strengths were her weaknesses, and his weaknesses her strengths. Hermione had a similar element of that in her relationship with Melok as well, but not quite so perfect as it was with Sirius. In some ways, Hermione and Melok were too alike in their way of doing things, and that got them in trouble. For example, the fact that they both felt the need to verbalize what was going on between them meant that there was no barrier to allow them to pretend it wasn't happening anymore. All it would take, from either of them, was one look, Hermione knew.
One look from her, or from him, and they'd know the other had crossed the line. They'd know they were in love.
Hermione had a creeping feeling that inevitability was impending. While Melok wasn't in front of her, it was far easier to deny the fact that he entered her thoughts with nearly every breath, and that every time she saw him, she ached to touch him. The ridiculous part is that she knew full well that when the line was crossed, it would likely strip her of all reason. She'd forget her vows to Sirius, and be completely reliant on Melok to keep them from doing something that couldn't be undone. More to her self loathing, Hermione knew that even if Melok didn't stop them from acting, she wouldn't hold it against him. It did take two to tango, after all, and how could she judge him for a weakness that she clearly shared?
Finally finished dressing, Hermione descended the stairs of Grimmauld Place, stopping by Sirius' office to tell him goodbye. "I'm headed to Hog's Head," she said, voice soft. "We're finished with the Potions Mastery, so after tonight I'll be fully awakened. I don't know how long this is going to take, so I may be late getting back."
Sirius smiled. "Good luck, love. Not that you need it."
Guilty conscience weighing on her over her thoughts regarding Melok, she kissed his forehead instead of his lips. "Thanks, Sirius," she replied.
He was too caught up in his work - the Black Map, she noted with a small smile - to really observe how off her behavior was, so before he did take note, she stepped out of the room and made her way down to the kitchen, Flooing directly to the Hog's Head where she was to meet Aberforth and Melok. As expected, Melok was not there yet, and she only half paid attention as she and Aberforth performed the first half of the ceremony which closed out her Potions Mastery. All that was left was the mark on her shoulder blade, and right on schedule, Melok Floo'd in.
"Good evening, you two," he greeted, meeting Hermione's gaze.
"Melok," she said, trying to keep her voice from betraying her mixed emotions.
"You ready, Hermione?" Aberforth asked, motioning to the pillow on the ground she was meant to kneel on for this part.
She took a deep breath, and pushed the shoulder of her loose shirt aside, exposing her shoulder blade as she kneeled to the ground. "Ready," she determined.
Melok raised his hand, causing Aberforth to pause, and then met her gaze steadily. "When this happens, it won't be like the other four. You will pass out. You will see things. When you wake, I will be here."
"See things?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I cannot explain beyond that," he said with a heavy sigh. "It is something every Mage must endure on their own. I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry for?" she asked, a bit amused at how skittish he seemed.
His hand raised and brushed her cheek lightly. "You'll understand soon enough, dearest."
Before she could open her mouth to protest, she watched Melok step back and nod quickly to Aberforth, and then the expected sharp pain on her shoulder came a second later, followed by an almost blinding pain in her head, and then blackness.
Then, she realized she could feel cool marble at her fingertips rather than the hard, wooden floors of the Hog's Head. The pillow she'd been kneeling on was gone, and gingerly she pushed herself up off the surface she was laying on, and with a gasp, recognized where she was. Astonishingly, she was in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, deep in the Department of Mysteries, on the platform which held the Veil. At first, Hermione thought she was alone, and without exit, because the doors she expected to see were not there, rather a heavy mist all around. Taking a breath, Hermione took a step toward the three women standing just to the left of the Veil, figuring they likely knew more about what was going on than she did.
"Hello," she greeted. "I'm…"
"Hermione Black," the one in the middle one replied with a gentle smile. "We are well aware. Welcome, Mage."
"Who are you?" she asked. It was the most obvious question, even if she felt a bit stupid for asking.
"We are called many things. At birth, we were Hannah, Sarai, and Miriam," the one on the right said, motioning to each in turn to indicate who was who. "The Greeks called us Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos. Other cultures gave us other names over the years. Mostly, we are Mages, just like you. Unusually, however, we are sisters. Mages are a rare thing, growing more and more common every generation. When we were born, a Mage didn't come along but once every five centuries, and yet our mother bore three."
Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos, Hermione thought, biting on her lip. She knew those names. Then, it clicked in her brain. "You're the Fates," she said, eyes widening in surprise.
"We have been called that, yes," Clotho said with a nod.
"The Fates are Mages?" she said, the implication staggering.
"More than Mages, now," Atropos replied. "We are the potential of all Mages. We are the greatest of all of our kind. We are the makers and keepers of the Veil of Fate, and it is our solemn duty to show every Mage who awakens the best and worst of what they can become. The rest is up to your own choices."
"I don't want that knowledge," Hermione said quickly. "I don't."
"What you want and what you need often differ, Hermione," Lachesis said with a soft smile. "You wanted to go back to your own reality and time. You needed a fresh start and a chance to build a future free of child soldiers. Your need was something you didn't even know to ask for, and thus, the Fates intervened."
She was incensed. "You are the reason Sirius and I ended up back in nineteen fifty four? That was your bloody doing? The runes on the Veil suggested there was a means to control the path of travel!"
"There is a means," Clotho agreed. "Only a fully awakened Mage, traveling on their own, would be able to control the path of destiny. The runes which indicate otherwise are there as a test not as a truth. Do they lie? Yes. However, only the smartest and most determined would willingly step through the Veil, having realized its purpose. Instances like Sirius Black, where falling through is an accident, are a true rarity. It is meant to inspire fear to those who have not taken time to study it."
Hermione took all the information in, both relishing in the knowledge and resenting it. Further, it struck her that Melok - Beta Melok - had to have known about this before she and Sirius stepped through. His family had been training Mages for generations, and there was no way that at least one of them hadn't come back and shared what they'd learned on the other side. Merlin knew she'd want to talk with her Melok about it when she got back, and by his proverbial pre-flight apology, she suspected he already knew what she was about to face as well. Bloody Goblin!
"Why is it so important that I shape a future without child soldiers?" she asked, willing her voice to remain calm.
"It is not," Clotho admitted. "You had already defeated Voldemort twice, and we were admittedly curious if you could manage it a third time. The way this reality shapes is purely up to you - we shall not interfere. We do strongly encourage you not to shut Albus Dumbledore out, however. Not entirely. Gods know I understand why you don't like the man, but much like he and Minerva, you and Albus could be a formidable pair if you could learn to get along."
"That's unlikely," she scoffed.
"Some things are inevitabilities of Fate," Atropos said. "The deaths of the Potters. The Phoenix rising. The Heir to the Sanctuary. However, every Mage, by design, is Fate's wild card. You being where you are, Hermione, is an issue of Fate. The world you grew up in, whether you realize it or not, your older self already existed in, waiting for her younger self to grow up again and begin the circle. Not all loops take place in a single reality."
This surprised her. "You mean… you mean one day I'll go back to my home reality?"
"Not for many years," Lachesis reported. "Not until you have become a mother, living fire, and learn how to dance."
"What the hell does that mean?" she asked, perplexed.
"You shall see," Clotho replied. "If you are able to become the best version of yourself. You, Hermione Black, are destined to be the Mage who masters the dance between realities. If you use that for good or evil… there is your choice."
She groaned. "I told you I didn't want to know!"
"As we said, what you want and what you need are not necessarily the same thing," Atropos replied, smirking a little. "In other words, we don't care."
"Oh, thanks a lot," she snipped.
"You have a responsibility, Hermione," Lachesis said urgently. "As we said, Mages are growing more and more common as the ages pass. As it stands, Wizardkind is on the verge of a great evolutionary jump. Two generations from now, it will be a Mage born every generation, not every third. The generation after that, the number will double. We believe things will settle, for a time, after that. Melok's line must not fail, and we trust you to ensure it does not. We trust you to ensure that his sons carry on his legacy."
"He only has one son," Hermione pointed out.
Lachesis looked sad. "He will have another."
"The greater good requires it," Atropos said firmly.
Hermione had no idea what the hell greater good was served by Melok and Genia having another child, but she was sure she'd figure it out eventually. It crossed her mind briefly to ask, but as it stood she had enough foreknowledge of the future, and frankly, she didn't want any more. "I'll see what I can do about making sure Melok understands his sons get the training they need to carry on his work and so forth. Granted, I'm pretty sure that would be a given in his mind."
"Even one as duty bound as Melok may come to doubt his cause," Clotho admitted. "Grief can be consuming."
Well, she didn't like the sounds of that. "Please don't hurt him," she said softly. "Don't do anything to hurt Melok."
"You, better than most, understand ripples," Lachesis said kindly. "We are the Fates, yes. Some things we control in absolute. Sometimes things fall into place upon the movement of others, and we can take action to divert. Other times we simply allow the pieces to fall where they may after the initial movement has been made. We don't have our hand on every moment, Hermione."
"So how do I know when you do have your hands on a moment?" she asked.
Clotho gave her a hard stare. "I believe you will know when those moments arise, however there is no logical sense in debating the finer points of things yet to come. You may be a fellow Mage, Hermione, but you are not yet evolved enough to comprehend the big picture the way we can. Yes, there may be pain in the future. There may be moments where you know beyond doubt that we have had a hand in that pain. Please remember though that a larger purpose is served in smaller sacrifices."
"See, now you sound like Albus," Hermione growled. "That is not improving my mood."
"Albus Dumbledore was an unusually enlightened man, in some ways," Clotho admitted. "His execution was a bit lacking, however. You too, I think, will grow to understand the service to the greater good. You are still so young though. Give it time. Gain the wisdom required for objectivity."
"And if I don't?" she asked.
Atropos offered a sly look. "If you don't, then this world will meet the worst version of you, young Mage. A version of you who never learns the value of the greater good is a version who becomes Voldemort's successor, unable to make the sacrifice needed when the time is right, and enforcing her will upon others so the ones she cares for don't have to suffer. The trouble is, she's willing to let the rest of the world suffer in their stead."
Hermione swallowed, the implication not settling well. "Okay. That's a lot to think about."
"Quite," Clotho agreed. "Now, it's time for you to go."
"How do I be sure I'll get back to the same reality I came from?" she asked, when she saw Lachesis pointing toward the Veil.
"Who did it break your heart to leave, in the place you call Beta?" Clotho inquired. "Who was the first you sought when you arrived in the reality you now call home? Who does your soul cry out for, even though you are bound to another? Who is your friend, your mentor, and your guide in all things?"
Melok, Hermione answered with ease.
"You need only think of him," Lachesis said, voice kind, "and you will not be led astray."
With a nod, Hermione moved slightly to the right, and without any hesitation, stepped through the Veil. A moment later she could feel the hard wood of the Hog's head beneath her fingers again, her knees against the pillow she was kneeling on, as if she'd never left and what had taken place with the Fates had merely been a figment of her mind.
"He knew," Hermione croaked, sitting up, and casting a hard gaze at Melok as soon as she saw him. "He knew only a fully Awakened Mage had any hope of controlling the destination. Even then, a slim hope, considering Sirius and I went through together. Why didn't he tell me to wait to finish my training?"
"Likely because he knew you'd never go without Sirius, and your completed training still wouldn't have stood much of a chance against the Fates when weighed next to him," the Goblin replied with a heavy sigh. "Perhaps because he didn't want you to have to choose between your own best interest and love. Perhaps because he worried Sirius would take the decision out of your hands and tell you it was his choice to stay behind. Perhaps because he was afraid you would stay behind and was frightened of how your relationship might evolve if you did…"
As Melok's voice cracked under the last supposition, Hermione understood one thing very clearly, and it had nothing to do with what she'd just experienced. The care and concern in his bearing and voice spoke volumes to her about a certainty that his alternate self could not have made the choice he did if he didn't care deeply for her wellbeing, and ultimately hope for the best the future could give her. What Hermione understood, after months of fighting against it, was that she was irrevocably in love with Melok. Somehow, the man she'd known in the other reality had merged, in her mind, with the man she'd spent the last year getting to know, and she didn't love one of them more or less than the other. She just loved him. It didn't change what she felt for Sirius in the slightest, but it was still overwhelming to acknowledge, and her eyes closed at the weight of it.
Hermione remained there, silent, kneeling on the floor, body tensing as she heard his footfalls coming closer. Then, she felt his hand, gentle on her jaw, urging her to face him, and slowly she opened her eyes, meeting his steady gaze with what she was sure was a look of pure terror. "Melok, I…" she whispered. "Gods…"
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for long enough to take in her scent, and when he began to pull away she let her face fall into his chest, arms wrapping around his body snugly as he began absently playing with her hair. "Me as well, love. Fuck."
"Just hold me a while longer," Hermione pleaded. "I know we can't… but…"
"You're not the only one who needs this moment," Melok replied, carefully detangling her from his body and then sitting down on the ground, leaning against the bar, and ushering her to lay her head on his lap. "We can't have much, Hermione, but we can have tonight."
She raised an eyebrow at the suggestiveness of the comment as her head fell into his lap, back on the ground and reaching to clasp his hand as it rested gently between the swell of her breasts. "Are you going to draw me a diagram, darling? Because Goblin ethics and Wizarding ethics are somewhat different."
He grinned a little. "You're dreadfully tempting, you know that? Never in my life have I been remotely inclined to break a vow, much less one of the most sacred vows in Goblin law, and yet when I look at you my concern for consequence goes out the bloody window."
Hermione knew she shouldn't, but she wiggled a little in his lap, curious about what reaction she could elicit in him. She was rewarded with a soft groan. "What was that?" she teased.
Melok countered by moving his hand away from its more or less innocent position between her breasts, rather brushing his fingers against the underside of the left one, sending bolts of arousal though her, and she heard him hum in amusement as she let out a clear gasp of pleasure. "Oh, gods…"
She twisted her body forcefully in a flurry of emotion - one part arousal and frustration, and one part a desire to see what could come of their love - and straddled his lap. Hermione's chest heaved as it pressed firmly into his, and her hands moved to gently cup his face. He looked dumbfounded for about ten seconds as she sat there, patiently waiting for him to make his move. Then, slowly, his hands moved up off their limp position on the ground and he gripped her waist. The touch was light at first, and then firmer, and for a moment she thought he was going to push her off of him, but his grip jerked her closer, the momentum causing her to lose her grip on his face and allow her head to fall forward so that they were cheek to cheek. "Tonight, Hermione," he hissed, teeth nipping at her ear. "I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. I'll regret if I stay, and regret if I go, but I think I'd rather regret staying and have the memory of loving you one night."
The first kiss was frantic, and while certainly different from kissing a fellow human, at the same time, it really wasn't that different at all. His lips, after all, were much the same as a human's, although she had to give Melok credit where credit was due, the Goblin could dance a Tango with his tongue and she was looking forward to seeing what else he could do with it when they finished snogging. "Bed?" she inquired, breathless. "I doubt Aberforth will mind if we borrow a room."
Melok snorted. "Presuming he never finds out what we're doing in it. You'll have to get up if you want…"
She wasn't inclined to move, and simply apparated them, having been in several of the Hog's Head rooms before and knowing in advance Aberforth had no guests tonight. "Quicker," she remarked as they landed on the bed together, limbs tangling.
"That works, too," he said, clearly amused. Melok demonstrated some of that Goblin strength of his by toppling her over now that there was a soft surface for her to land on, and absently began fiddling with the buttons on her blouse. "May I?"
"At this point I'd be vexed if you didn't, love," she admitted softly.
One by one, eyes never leaving hers, and the room only lit by moonlight, Melok unbuttoned her blouse and then pushed it away, revealing her mostly bare chest. She sat up slowly and kissed him again, this time with care and tenderness, the gravity of what they were about to do setting in. He pushed the blouse off her shoulders, reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra, and a moment later her upper half, at least, was naked. She in turn, as they continued to kiss, began removing his shirt. The tie went first, already loose. Then the vest, and then the crisp oxford he favored. His skin was pale and smooth and his body defined with muscle. Her fingers traced a scar, a burn, on his left shoulder, and her lips moved from his mouth to his body, determined to feel every contour of him before the night was through. "Young Dragon got me," he explained the burn, breath hitching. "I was lucky it wasn't an adult."
His hands palmed her breasts and she flopped back onto the bed, Melok tumbling on top of her with a grin unlike any she'd ever seen on his face. It was feral. It was sexy. "Get this damn skirt off me, Melok," she breathed as his tongue began tracing a path down her chest, around her breasts, and then lower and lower until he was nipping at her hip bones as his fingers tugged at the waistline of the garment in question. That his knee was pressed firmly between her legs, his weight putting just the right amount of pressure on her core, was only adding to her arousal. "Merlin…"
He pulled the zipper on her hip, loosening the skirt enough to pull the thing off in one motion, taking her knickers right along with it as he went. As soon soon as it was clear she allowed her legs to fall apart, giving him room to rest between them, kneeling as he pressed reverent kisses to her newly exposed legs. "Gods above, Witch, you are stunning."
Melok's lips trailed further and further up her thighs, and just about the time she thought she could take the teasing no more, his skilled tongue found center, and she let out a gasp. Oh yes, that tongue was something else indeed, and as she felt his unique magic wash over her, she realized all at once that they were making love. This wasn't a fumble. This wasn't a fuck. This wasn't a bloody mistake she'd regret in the morning. It might be a secret she'd keep from her husband for the rest of her life, but for all the doubts and deliberations that had been weighed on the road between meeting Melok and here, she would never regret loving him. "Yes, my love," she let out. "That's perfect. You're perfect."
Hermione crashed over the edge once, twice, and a third time before the Goblin allowed her to rest, coming to lay on top of her. "How are you doing?" he asked with a grin.
She ran her fingernails down his bare back, and then tugged at the waistline of his trousers. "I'll be better when you get rid of those, darling," she offered, trying to convey to him without saying the words that she wanted all of him. "I want you, Melok."
He buried his face in her chest for a moment, and then looked back up at her. "You're sure?"
She pulled him into a lazy kiss, and then grabbed his arse while she bit down on his lower lip. "Very," she said, voice certain and husky.
Melok looked half dazed by her actions, and it took him a moment to get his bearings again. "Alright then, darling," he agreed, unbuckling his trousers. "You're about to learn one of the great secrets of Goblins though. We may be small in stature, but when it comes to our males' reproductive organs, we are anything but."
Hermione just stared at his cock for a moment in astonishment. No, she would absolutely not be telling Sirius about tonight, if for no other reason than the fact that he'd be jealous of the size of Melok's equipment. Everything else set bloody aside! The logical part of her mused that it made sense, for Goblins to be larger than their stature would suggest, if it was so noted they were able to crossbreed with humans. To say the least, Hermione's body hummed in anticipation. Her eyes rose, meeting his steady gaze, and she offered a warm smile. "Make love to me darling."
He moved toward her, his tip touching her center, but not entering. Hermione's hips thrust upward in anticipation, but he put a hand on her abdomen to still her. "A moment," he said, and a golden glow ran out of his fingers and through her, pulsing for just a few seconds.
"What was that?" she asked.
"I realize that you are a responsible Witch and have expressed previously that you and Sirius are not seeking to have children, therefore I presume you are already on a contraceptive Potion, however given you do have Goblin genetics, it is possible, given I am also Goblin, that if the timing was just so our combined genes could viably override a standard contraceptive Potion," Melok explained calmly. "As such, I added a Goblin contraceptive spell, to be safe. It will only be in effect for tonight, but I figured the last thing you needed was to fall pregnant with my bastard child."
Hermione hadn't even considered that possibility, and besides, unless she and Melok were purposely trying for a child, conceiving one without specific spellwork to safeguard how the fetus developed was incredibly high risk. "Good thinking. Now, where were we?"
"I'm pretty sure I was about to shag you senseless," he smirked, sheathing himself inside of her.
Between the sensation of being perfectly filled, the overwhelming sense of his magic pouring into her, and the orgasm that hit almost immediately after he began moving inside of her, Hermione saw stars.
They were at it for over an hour before they both flopped back on the bed in a heap of sweaty limbs. "Gods," Hermione groaned. "Points for Goblin stamina!"
He chuckled. "From what I hear, it takes human men a bit to get it back up. Goblins…"
"Five minutes?" she exclaimed. "That was ridiculous!"
"Complaining?" Melok asked with a grin, nudging her.
Hermione smiled. "No. Not in the least. A bit mournful this is a one time deal, however, and slightly jealous of Genia, but not complaining."
The grin fell away from his face, and he propped himself up on his elbow. "We're not going to have issues with that, are we? Jealousy? I mean I don't plan to be mates with Sirius, but I wasn't before, so that's nothing new. You and Genia, however, get on so well. I'd hate to see that change after this."
She shook her head and offered a reassuring smile. "It won't, I promise. I only meant I'm a bit jealous that she gets to be your sexual partner on a regular basis. While in an ideal world, I'd love to have this with you again, I understand why we can't, and I'm content with just your friendship, Melok. I am. As for Genia, I see no reason why things between her and me can't just proceed as they have been. She's your wife, and the mother of my Godson. I'm fond of her. We're not close, she's not someone I confide in, but we're friendly and I don't see that changing. In another life, perhaps our relationship might have evolved and we might have grown closer than we are now, but…"
"Doubtful, after tonight," he said with a nod. "That's fine. I just don't want her, or Sirius, to have cause to suspect anything has changed between us. We obviously can't help how we feel, and it's obviously pointless to deny it, but after tonight…"
"Yes, I know," she sighed. "Just friends."
Melok shook his head, and pressed a kiss to her lips. "No, Hermione. Not just friends. I won't hide from you that I'm in love with you, and I don't expect you to hide from me that you feel the same. We simply have to hide it from everyone else, and in order to do that, we cannot act on that love."
She was a bit reassured that he wasn't going to backtrack, and act as though going to bed together one night erased a year worth of buildup that culminated in them falling in love. It wasn't mere lust. It wasn't an itch to be scratched. Tonight was a long drink of water before they knew they'd be walking into the desert. It was the deep breath before the plunge, taking a moment to tangibly accept what had become of their relationship before they actively chose not to act on that evolution. It was a force of will, and the gathering of strength to make one of the hardest choices she'd ever had to make. "Agreed," she whispered, kissing him back.
"What Mastery do you want to work toward next?" he asked, rolling back over.
"I'm uncertain," she admitted. "Maybe Runes. I'm probably fairly close to that one anyway."
"We discussed the Goblin Arts," Melok reminded her.
This time, Hermione pushed herself up on her elbow. "Melok, I say this with love, but after tonight I'm going to need something resembling distance from you. If we go right into the Goblin Arts, that's going to involve working very closely together, one on one quite frequently, and in the direct aftermath of tonight I don't think that's wise. Until we're a bit more removed from this evening, I think it's best to hold off on the Goblin Arts."
He tried to hide his hurt, but she knew him well enough to know that while he saw her point, it still stung. "Of course," he said softly. "Runes then."
"Either that or History of Magic," she said thoughtfully. "Honestly, that may be even better. History plays a lot into modern politics, and while I did take History of Magic at Hogwarts, I dropped it after Fifth Year and didn't bother taking it up to NEWT level. There's a great deal I don't know about Wizarding History, and how I plan things for the coming years may be greatly impacted by my understanding of it."
"That does make a lot of sense," the Goblin agreed. "Finding a Master for History of Magic will be tricky. Years ago I'd have suggested Binns, but he's dead now and bound to Hogwarts, and I know you don't want to be going there any more often than necessary. I wonder if Bagshot would be willing…"
"Bathilda?" she asked.
"Leonard, actually," Melok said, smirking. "Obviously Bathilda is quite the expert herself, but her nephew Leonard is the Ancient Runes Professor up at Hogwarts now, and he holds Masteries in both Runes and History of Magic. My thinking is that if you got him to do your History of Magic Mastery and liked him well enough, he could cover you for Runes as well, making one less person to have to confide your Mage status to in the long run. I do know he's a friend of Albus', but he knows the value of keeping confidence. I'd trust him."
"Fine then," she said, snuggling up next to her lover. "Then I'll trust him too. Your judgment has always been good enough for me, darling."
He kissed her temple. "Gods, I knew from the day I met you that you were going to be trouble, woman."
His tone was disapproving, but his grip around her body just got firmer, contrary to his words. He was hers, and she was his. For the next hour or so before they both had to get up and go their separate ways, nothing else mattered.
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