A/N: Ah well, late night conversations over wine never do go as planned...
"You did not!"
"Yes…" Minerva paused and sipped her wine slowly, both hands cupping the glass and twisting it as she smiled into the dark liquid. "And then later when I discovered him doing it a second time, I… er... hexed his bits."
Hermione found herself laughing alongside Master Kallas, whose dark curls fairly vibrated in disbelief. Her master drained her glass with a flourish before setting it down on the table and pinning Minerva with an arched eyebrow.
"Minerva McGonagall, you shady lady!"
"You are not the only one with wily ways, my dear."
Hermione sniffed in amusement… still hard pressed to believe that her former professor could have ever sat a detention.
"And what about you, darling? What excessive measures did you resort to while at Hogwarts?" Master Kallas purred, fixing her with her light clear gaze. Hermione shook her head wistfully even as she caught Minerva eyeing her in curiosity.
"The most I ever did was punch Draco Malfoy in the nose," she replied sadly. Master Kallas chuckled and sat forward, while Minerva's eyebrows rose to greet her hairline.
"Third-year. He called me a 'mudblood,' and I… let him have it," she explained. Her master gave an approving nod.
"Good for you, darling. A dirty insult should always be matched with a dirty play," Master Kallas said seriously to Hermione's bemusement as she lifted her empty glass in a small salute.
"I hope that wasn't the official doctrine of advice that you dispensed to students back in the day, Diamantina," Minerva muttered. Master Kallas chuckled lightly, sending a light shiver over Hermione's shoulders. Her master winked.
"Only to members of my House," she replied primly.
Following a few select bites of kataifi and another bottle of wine, the three of them were still sitting at the outdoor table on the terrace, trading stories from their school years and moments of mischief. Hermione, admittedly, was fascinated by the two witches in her company and had largely listened… feeling a strange sense of surrealism as she watched her two mentors converse like old friends.
Which is exactly what they are, dumdum!
"I take it that Draco was not a paramour, then?" Master Kallas' question brought her back to the conversation at hand.
Minerva sniffed wryly as Hermione attempted to keep her facial expression neutral.
"Unfortunately, no. Draco was a Slytherin student in my year who had a rather severe case of Pureblood supremacy and a legacy of Dark wizards to live up to," she replied dispassionately. Master Kallas inhaled deeply and nodded.
"I had thought that Mr. Weasley was a rather serious contestant for that title?"
Minerva's carefully phrased question was surprising and again, Hermione fought to keep her expression neutral as she considered a reply. She hadn't imagined the witch to ask such a personal query.
"He was for a time…" she began slowly, feeling Master Kallas still. "However, during our year in hiding, it became clear to me that we had grown into different people. After the Battle of Hogwarts, we both acknowledged that we had become different people with different needs."
Twisting her wine glass, Hermione cast a small smile towards Master Kallas who was watching her with a rather intense expression. I guess it's now or never, then.
"And then of course... it all made perfect sense when I discovered that I prefer the company of witches to wizards," she declared with a chuckle, lifting her glass in a small salute.
Raising her eyes, Hermione was surprised to see Minerva watching her curiously - her emerald gaze somewhat astonished, as if she were suddenly seeing Hermione for the first time. Hermione blinked and the expression was gone. Minerva merely lifted an eyebrow before raising her own glass and pinning her with a rather serious look.
"Cheers to that!"
Master Kallas laughed, running a gentle hand down Hermione's arm as she blushed and clinked glasses with Minerva.
"I take it that your journey to Australia with young Mister Weasley solidified that fact, then?"
The unexpected question caught Hermione off-guard and she sat back, somewhat deflated even as Master Kallas' concern washed over her.
Minerva's expression quickly shifted to concern as well and Hermione shook her head, surprised by the force of emotion suddenly coursing through her.
"Ah. No… we had parted amicably long before that trip," she replied, taking a deep breath.
Two pairs of eyes were watching her with growing expressions of worry.
"Hermione?"
Hermione laughed mirthlessly and tried to give Master Kallas a reassuring smile.
"I apologize. I haven't considered that part of my life for a while," she said, taking another deep breath and sitting forward. She hated how quickly her eyes were growing moist and the way Minerva was frowning, even as she leaned upon the table slightly. This is why you should have told someone a long time ago!
"I am sorry for upsetting you, Hermione…" The Scottish lilt seemed more pronounced and Hermione quickly waved away the apology with a hand.
"No, no… don't apologize. How could you have known?" Hermione sighed and gave them both a wavering smile as she worked to stem the flood of emotion.
"Ron and Harry were the only people that knew…" Willing herself not to cry, she sat forward and steepled both hands on the table. Focusing on the wood grain and flickering candles seemed to help.
"Before we left on our mission, I Obliviated my parents and sent them to Australia." Both witches shifted and Hermione heard a sharp intake of breath.
"I was afraid that Voldemort would somehow find them and either kill them outright or use them against me in some way… The Ministry was obviously no help at the time, so I did what I thought I needed to keep them safe." She took another steadying breath.
"It wasn't until after the War that I set out to find them. Ron came with me… and it took a lot of searching, but eventually I discovered they had set up a new practice and created a new life for themselves."
Hermione exhaled slowly and ran a hand through her curls. Both witches sat silently, unmoving as they waited for her to continue.
"Merlin, I've never been so relieved and horrified in my life. We spent a week there… I tried on six occasions to un-do my spellwork, but nothing worked. I thought I had lost them."
Angrily, Hermione swiped at a tear that escaped from one eye and took another breath. Her mind was swimming with memories of that god-awful week she had spent on the beach in Perth, crying on Ron's shoulder as they worked out what to do. Never before had she felt so utterly helpless.
"Finally, on the seventh try, I succeeded. I brought them back…and then w-we cried. All of us. I was so worried that my parents were going to hate me, but with Ron's help we managed to explain everything and... d-do you know w-what they told me?"
Hermione paused, her hands curling into fists as the dam within her threatened to break.
"They said that they were proud of me…" The words came out as a whisper and suddenly Hermione's vision blurred, and her next inhale became a shuddering sob.
"They said they were proud. Holy fucking Helga, can you understand that? I took away their goddamn memories… I changed their lives… stole their agency… their identities… their only child for God's sake and then they… th-they told me they were proud!"
Leaning forward, Hermione folded her forehead onto her hands and cried in earnest. Hot, steaming tears poured from her eyes, splattering the table beneath her and dripping onto the soft silk of her robes below. Distantly, she felt long fingers combing through her curls, soothing her slightly even as her body struggled to bring her back to equilibrium.
"Gods… I'm sorry. I just… I still can't believe that. I can't believe them," Hermione whispered, wiping her cheeks violently even as her face flushed with a combination of emotion, embarrassment, and pent up rage.
Rage at Voldemort.
The Ministry.
The War… all the ridiculous and ungodly reasons she had been forced to violate her own parents in such a cruel and terrible manner.
"They wanted to stay," she continued after a moment, still unable to lift her gaze. "They thanked me… so I helped them transition easier. They live in Perth now, near the beach - they love the ocean… and so I set up a series of blood wards to protect them. And now no one will touch them ever again. No one."
Hermione waited for a moment, her pulse still thumping loudly in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to will her heartbeat and breath back to normal. Focus…
For a moment, there was an eerie sort of silence and even the waves below seemed to respect her passionate outburst.
Then there was a strange series of murmured of words and Hermione looked up in surprise to see Master Kallas crying softly. At once, Hermione felt a combination of shock, awe, guilt, and no small amount of fear as silvery tears poured down dark cheeks and she watched in horrified fascination as her steadfast, enigmatic master appeared to be struggling to maintain control over her own emotions.
Hermione felt another shock at realizing that Minerva was holding on to one of her master's forearms and rubbing it in an apparent gesture of solidarity.
"Hermione, darling… I am so proud of you. Truly…" Her master's voice was thick and nearly unrecognizable, her accent catching in a manner that Hermione had never before heard. Master Kallas bit her lip and Hermione felt a wave of crippling emotion wash over her before, abruptly, it disappeared.
She gasped at the loss of sensation, one hand already blindly reaching for her master's reassurance but the smaller witch managed to rise smoothly and slip out of her grasp.
"If you would excuse me for a moment," Master Kallas whispered softly, already rounding the table in a soft swish of ivory silk. Minerva nodded quietly, her focus remaining somewhere between her wineglass and the center of the table.
"I… don't understand," Hermione whispered, watching her master's small form retreat indoors. Searching inwards, she couldn't detect the thread of connection that bound her to Master Kallas. It was as if she didn't exist.
Minerva shifted and fixed Hermione with a sad expression.
"It seems Diamantina need a moment to recover," she said unhelpfully. Hermione felt her temper swell, even as a separate thread of panic began to bloom.
"What do you mean? What was that?" Hermione demanded, gesturing toward the witch's empty chair. Minerva refused to look at her. "I don't feel her! Minerva… why can't I feel her?"
As her voice rose, Minerva held up a hand.
"Peace, Hermione. She's likely Occluding."
"What?" It came out sharper than she intended, but Hermione was still struggling to understand. What did I do? What happened?
Minerva took a deep inhale and settled back, drawing her wineglass toward the edge of the table.
"I fear I may overstep my boundaries with you at this time, Hermione," she began. "But… I also worry that Diamantina may never divulge the relevant information that you will need to support one another."
Green eyes flicked up to look at her seriously; Hermione's brow furrowed but she remained silent and nodded her understanding. Her mind was still reeling from the strange outburst and her master's abrupt disappearance. Surely, Master Kallas is more adept at reigning in her empathy than that!
"In order to understand your master's reaction, you must understand her personal history… and, like many of us who were involved in the First Wizarding war, her own history is quite tragic."
Hermione felt a low thrum of foreboding in her stomach, but she nodded her understanding.
Minerva watched her for a moment longer, features drawn into a stoic expression… and Hermione had to wonder if the utter lack of emotion belied the seriousness of whatever she was about to hear.
A moment later, the witch sighed.
"Diamantina Kallas first applied to apprentice beneath me in 1972. She was young, brilliant… much like you, in fact. She had already completed her first few classifications in America for Potions, and she was the youngest person in the history of Greek Wizardry to serve on the Hellenic Council," Minerva smiled at the memory and Hermione's heart fluttered lightly even as she wiped at a few stray tears on her cheeks.
"I was in my late thirties when I received her résumé. At the time I thought I was far too young to begin teaching Mastery students, but as you can imagine Albus Dumbledore insisted. I accepted a young wizard before Diamantina… equally brilliant and talented, but not as disciplined. He did not live up to my expectations and only remained at Hogwarts for one year."
Hermione nodded again even as her eyes slid toward the brightly lit windows of the villa… hoping, willing her master to return.
"A year later, I accepted Diamantina." At the change of tone, Hermione looked back to see Minerva gazing off toward the coast, a wistful expression gracing her features.
"Unlike her predecessor, she took to my style immediately. She was both passionate and refined. We challenged each other in many complementary ways. For the first three years of our arrangement, everything went as outlined. And then later we… grew close," Minerva paused and took a sip of wine, swirling the remaining liquid in her glass absently even as her eyes appeared to dim slightly as she retreated into her memories.
Hermione listened, afraid of moving or startling Minerva from her reminiscing. The candlelight seemed to soften the heaviness of the conversation and she waited… watching as another layer of the enigmatic Headmistress seemed to fall away.
"As you can imagine, however… things grew more complicated as the War progressed. Unlike this past time which was far more subtle and insidious, the First War was conducted in the open. Acts of violence were common. Fear was rampant and it was difficult to know just whom to trust."
Minerva's lips twisted slightly and with a flash of intuition, Hermione gathered that the witch still harboured a great amount of regret.
"Diamantina joined the Order of the Phoenix after following my example. I assured her I did not expect it of her, but she insisted. After all, she said, it was a European War… and she wanted to do her part to ensure her friends and family remained safe."
Hermione wet her lips, suddenly afraid of how the story would end.
"Unfortunately, it was not to be. A great many people died through a combination of attacks, confrontations, and mistaken alliances. Molly Weasley lost her brothers. Harry Potter lost his parents. I lost my youngest brother and his wife. And then... it was Diamantina's turn."
Hermione felt her heart break, and once again felt a great pressure behind her eyes as tears began to sting, just out of reach.
"You must understand that, for her generation, Diamantina was much like you. Heralded as one of the best and brightest… and while she had made impressive strides that brought many accolades, it also garnered the attention of the opposite side."
Minerva's face twisted again and Hermione thought she saw a shadow of bitterness or anger pass over aristocratic features. And then at once, it was again smooth.
"Diamantina was betrayed by close friends of ours and subsequently captured. At the time our bond was similar to what I assume she currently shares with you, and as a result… as her Master I was bound to protect her. However, Voldemort's allies were well aware of our relationship and rather than threatening her life directly, they managed to use her family against her. I was helpless to assist until it was too late."
Hermione heard a sharp inhale and belatedly realized it was her own breath. Another shadow crossed Minerva's features and the witch lifted an elegant hand to rub one temple softly.
"Without going into detail, I will simply say that in the aftermath of all the violence... Diamantina was presented with a choice. She chose to leave the Order and return to Greece, where by all accounts, the environment was significantly safer. We ended our Mastery agreement with an understanding of our own that has prevailed until today."
Minerva sat forward suddenly and pinned Hermione with a direct and harsh gaze. The piercing emerald eyes seemed to cut through her tumultuous thoughts... and at once, Hermione's cheeks were burning again. This time however Hermione lifted her chin and after a moment, Minerva appeared to accept whatever expression she saw represented there.
"I do not fault her for leaving the War and nor should you, Hermione… as I imagine it has taken her a significant number of years to heal from the trauma she was dealt." The Scottish lilt seemed heavy and tired, and Minerva reached forward and quickly drained her glass as Hermione sat quietly, her heart aching even as her mind struggled to process the terrible narrative she had just been told.
Her family… Gods. Everything that Hermione had wanted to prevent for her own parents had happened for Master Kallas. No wonder she had to leave…
At once, Hermione felt a wave of crippling guilt pass through her as she realized just how terrible it must have been for her master to listen to her memories… and then to have been faced with the stark reality of her own experiences.
What if she never heard those words… 'we're proud of you…' What if she never felt she could atone for what she lost?
Another trickle of tears began making its way down her cheeks and Hermione sat immobile, her thoughts a terrible spiral of her own experiences and the imaginings of whatever had happened to her own master.
"Hush, darling. It is past."
Startled, Hermione looked up with bright eyes to see Master Kallas standing behind Minerva's chair, one hand resting on the shoulder of their shared mentor even as she gazed at Hermione with an expression of beatific tranquility. Glancing down, she saw that Minerva's expression was not quite as calm. The shadow of pain echoing within the clear emerald gaze seemed to spur her into action.
"Master…"
Unable to stop herself, Hermione quickly rose and circled the table to envelop the smaller witch in a fierce embrace. At once their bond reasserted itself and the ache in her chest was instantly soothed by a wave of contentment, peace, and calm. She tried to communicate her sense of solidarity… her utmost belief in the strong witch that Master Kallas had become, and her utter devotion toward protecting their connection, their bond… her witch, her mind quickly supplied.
"Shhh. All is past, my darlings…" Hermione felt her master shift and realized that the witch had opened one side of her body to pull Minerva up to standing.
The taller witch moved out from her place at the table delicately, eyes averted as she allowed her former students a moment of their own. However, a moment later… spurred by some sort of internal impulse, Hermione stepped forward.
Green eyes widened as she took the beautiful sculpted cheeks in both hands and quickly drew herself upwards...
At once, there was a spark… a sizzle of energy and time seemed to stop.
Soft, satiny lips met her own, sending a rush of heat through her body that pulsed straight to her center. Hermione heard her own light intake of air as she pulled away, immediately wanting to move back into the sensuous grasp of those soft, fluid lips… but resisting… and letting her fingers trail down the graceful, long neck and off narrow shoulders…
"Thank you, Minerva," she whispered, eyes opening directly into those endless emerald pools.
Somehow Hermione managed to step backward without stumbling, feeling a light thrum of pleasure through her bond even as those clear eyes blinked through confusion, shock, and something… else.
A moment later, Master Kallas stepped forward and then… Hermione felt a strange tingling sensation run through her body and a rather surreal, heady wave of heat as both of her mentors drew together...
Master Kallas bestowed her own kiss, theirs slightly longer and a bit… different.
She felt another flush, this one having to do more with feeling like a voyeur as a dark hand cupped an ivory chin and tilted it carefully...
But then Hermione blinked, and they were again two.
Minerva smoothed a hand over her emerald robes, the fabric rippling across her torso in a manner that caused Hermione's eyes to zero in on the shapely curves...
"Perhaps that is enough excitement for one night," the elder witch husked and Hermione watched in fascination as the witch known as Minerva McGonagall somehow managed to draw herself inward, assembling her many mysterious layers, and re-cloaking herself in the mystique that Hermione recognized from years of schooling.
And despite the witch's alluring attire, the Headmistress of Hogwarts had reappeared…
And with a tinge of regret, Hermione knew their evening had drawn itself to a startling close.