A/N: The night is almost over...
"Sturgis… how can I help you?" Minerva asked, attempting to keep her voice free from fatigue. The large blond man had been waiting patiently as she had seen to the last of her guests' departure. Renata, Molly, and Narcissa had required a great amount of reassurance that Diamantina Kallas was a witch to be trusted.
She had been rather surprised by the unusual trio's vehemence in suggesting that her former apprentice would place the Order in a compromising position. Renata and Molly had been predictable. However Narcissa had been unexpected and rather unwilling to reveal her reasoning for holding the witch suspect in front of others. Minerva would have to look into the woman's concerns at a later point.
"Minerva… I apologize for keeping you from your duties."
The tall wizard gave her a rather guilty look which she waved away. A moment later her brow furrowed and suddenly her observation gave way to the realization that the man before was radiating worry and paranoia. Immediately warning bells went off in her mind.
"Let us adjourn to the den," she suggested evenly, waving a hand to dim the lights in the drawing room even as she gestured to the open doors behind them. The tall wizard nodded, quickly sweeping through and moving with purpose over toward two comfortable armchairs near the fire.
Minerva followed carefully, mentally clearing her mind for whatever Sturgis Podmore was about to reveal.
Perching on the opposite chair slowly, she gazed at the man across from her.
"What has happened, Sturgis?" Minerva asked softly even as the wizard ran a heavy hand through his locks.
"Minerva… I…. can't thank you enough for hosting the meeting tonight," Sturgis began, his blue gaze unusually somber. She gave a nod of encouragement as the wizard suddenly sat, elbows falling atop his knees as if he held the weight of the world.
"I've uncovered something at the Ministry," he said slowly. "For the moment no one knows… I've been tailing the lead on my own because I've been afraid of tipping anyone off. But, Minerva… this is big."
He looked up at her beseechingly and Minerva gave a small nod of understanding even as her blood ran cold. The man's hands were shaking.
"On Monday night someone dug through hundreds of high-level files regarding details of the Ministry's Economic and Defense outlines. They made unauthorized copies of all of these files. Whoever it was now has details about the country's Floo Network, Ministry-approved outposts, Emergency Anti-Apparition nets, Oblivating procedures, official lockdown procedures… information that easily outlines an official response should there ever be, Merlin forbid, some sort of massive attack or accident, or…. I don't know! " Sturgis explained, his voice tense. Minerva listened, her mind reeling with the implications of such an information leak, watching as the tall wizard ran a hand through his hair.
A moment later he exhaled in a slow hiss and gave her a guilty look.
"Minerva, they also have Ministry records on the Order," he whispered.
"I understand," she said, swiftly inhaling through her nose. Nothing to be done about that. We all know the risks. Rather than focus on the heavy blow to their cover, she fixed him with a serious gaze.
"You are certain that no one else knows?" she asked.
Sturgis nodded emphatically.
"Positive. It was pure luck that I stumbled across the evidence. The Ministry had a system in place that makes note of all copies created of official documents. It's written deep into the warding of all official buildings, likely too deep to warrant tampering. Unfortunately, whoever made the copies successfully managed to conceal their identity."
"So you know that the copies were created, but you don't know where they have gone or who made them," Minerva summarized, wanting to ensure she understood. Sturgis nodded. Damn it all...
"I've narrowed down my list of suspects to three people, but… they're high up," he said quietly and Minerva's enhanced senses could practically smell the man's fear. That small fact alone was entirely worrying.
Sturgis had served several years in the Auror offices as a skilled fieldworker before transferring over to the Investigative Department as the Deputy Head. It did not bode well that a wizard of his experience and stature had been reduced to such a fearful mess.
"Would you feel comfortable sharing their names? I'm certain that the Order could lend you wands," Minerva said carefully, her eyes narrowed as she tried to ascertain where the wizard was going with his story.
"No… no, I can't yet. I'm so close, Minerva. I just need a bit more evidence and then I'm sure I can pin this. It's too risky. None of the other people at the meeting would have cause to engage with these people without tipping them off… especially now that they have files on all of us."
Sturgis spoke quickly and abruptly rose to pace in front of the fire, his entire body tense.
"Forgive me for being blunt, but then why are you sharing this?" Minerva asked calmly.
The question seemed to startle the wizard and he just looked at her for a long moment before sitting again almost as quickly as he had stood.
"I need you to do me a favor, okay? I don't know when this is all going to go down, but it's going to go down soon and I need some assurances…"
"Sturgis, slow down. What is going to go down? What do you need?" she asked, leaning forward even as she shook her head in confusion.
"I need you to keep Maria safe." Minerva resisted the urge to move back as Sturgis moved to the edge of his chair, stopping just short of grabbing her shoulders as if suddenly realizing who he was speaking with.
"Maria? What? I don't under-"
"Minerva, promise me you'll protect her," he stated, his eyes boring into hers.
"I will do my absolute best, Sturgis," she replied honestly, even as her eyes regarded him coolly. As if the wind had suddenly been taken out of his sails, Sturgis fell back into the armchair, one hand scraping over his face as he gave a mirthless chuckle.
"She's all I've got, Minerva," he said softly, eyes flickering with the flames. In his stillness, Minerva was suddenly able to see the deep lines in his face and the heavy bags beneath his eyes. In the high contrast of the flames, Sturgis looked like a man on the edge. Merlin, Sturgis… what have you uncovered?
"I will do my absolute best," Minerva repeated, moving forward to place a hand on his knee. "However, I need you to give me more than that. I cannot protect your wife if I am not appraised of your plans."
He nodded, sitting up slowly, his head hung apologetically. For a moment, Minerva had an odd sense of dejá vú as she recalled those same thick curls hung in shame… many many decades ago in very different circumstances.
However a moment later when crisp blue eyes gazed back into hers, they were the haunted eyes of a man who had seen far too much… and not the penitent gaze of a twelve-year old caught after curfew on the Quidditch Pitch.
"Tomorrow night," he whispered. Though Minerva's mind swam with questions, she attempted to keep her thoughts focused on the task at hand. Tomorrow. That didn't leave much room for crafting a safety net.
"What sort of precautions are you taking?" she asked sharply. Sturgis' lips twisted into a grimace and she felt her heart fall.
"Sturgis, no…" Minerva whispered. "You cannot go in without any form of backup. It's too risky."
"Minerva, I assure you. I have one chance at this before too many things unravel. If I wait, these people are going to easily cover their tracks and bury me before anything can get out. Or I'll be Obliviated and of zero use to anyone."
"There are other ways, then," she replied firmly. Sturgis opened his large hands in a wistful gesture.
"At the moment, I disagree. As Deputy, I have a bit of clout that I've already used to set up an informal meeting for tomorrow night. But it's a long shot… if I push too hard, they're going to push back," he replied, shaking his head.
Sighing, Minerva simply gazed at the wizard before her.
"I disagree with your plan of action, Sturgis. At the very least, allow me to trail you in disguise," she said, her brow furrowed in concern. Everything in this arrangement went against her instincts. This is ludicrous!
"Do you really think I'm going to let the newly risen Head of the Order of the Phoenix risk her life?" Sturgis asked a bit bemusedly. Minerva felt her lips thin in disapproval even as blue eyes regained a bit of cheer while he chuckled good naturedly.
Silence spread between them even as the wizard's smile dwindled.
"Thank you for listening to me, Minerva. And thank you for agreeing to watch over Maria," Sturgis said softly. Minerva sighed again, feeling a distant ache grow in her chest that had nothing to do with her compromised sternum.
"Whatever you're up to, Sturgis. I hope it's worth it," she replied.
The honest statement hung between them for a moment and then the blond-haired wizard smiled lightly, his clear blue gaze lost to the flames once more.
"Me too."
"Master?"
"Yes, darling?" Dia replied automatically, blinking slightly as her focus came to rest on the tired face of her apprentice. Hermione was slumped over at the kitchen table, munching a piece of kataifi absently and regarding her with a curious expression.
"Why did you agree to volunteer for the Order?"
Dia paused, unsure of how to answer that question without opening the floodgates to the rest of the discussion that still needed to happen. She waited a moment, absorbing the witch before her - feeling a pang of guilt at the difficult decisions that lay ahead.
Now or later, Diamantina… you will still have to have it.
"Let us retire to my chambers," Dia suggested softly. Hermione's eyes widened slightly, but a moment later she nodded and moved to follow.
Her apprentice remained silent as they padded through the quiet halls of the villa, extinguishing candles as they went until they arrived to the french doors of her inner sanctum.
With a sigh, Dia quickly banished all of her robes, igniting the candles and electing to remain in just a thin white slip that betrayed the gentle outlines of her silken undergarments. Ideally, she would have summoned a bathrobe and divested herself of the rest, but… that would be too much.
Turning, she pulled the pins from her hair, allowing the complicated twist to fall even as she took in the fact that her apprentice had followed suit and was patiently waiting on the sofa, dressed in one thin layer of sleeveless robes, pulling pins from her curls… her small nose wrinkling in displeasure as a few of the curls grew tangled and knotted.
Smiling softly, Dia moved around the coffee table carefully and sat next to her apprentice, brushing her hands away and working at the tangles with a gentle touch.
A long moment passed, neither of them speaking as Dia continued to caress the thick, silky mane with sure fingers. Her apprentice began to relax slightly, leaning back against the sofa in a way that indicated to Dia it was time to resume their discussion.
"Hermione… I know that right now you feel as though you are being made to choose," she began. "You feel you that you are being forced to make a decision whether or not to honor your Mastery studies with me or whether to return home and join the Order in fighting this new threat."
Hermione's eyes grew moist as she turned to look at Dia directly. Deciding that they needed a bit more objectivity, Dia moved back slightly, tucking her legs beneath her and folding her hands lightly across one thigh. Her expression grew pensive.
"Do you remember that when I asked you to move up the submission of your theses, I told you it was vital?"
Hermione nodded in reply before her eyes widened.
Dia waited, feeling the dawning realization spread through their bond like wildfire.
"You knew," Hermione whispered, her caramel eyes widening quickly and then suddenly filling with anger. "You knew that there was more to the ISOS violations than the news outlets let on and that something big was going to come of it, didn't you?"
Dia nodded sadly, watching as the witch struggled with that piece of information.
The curls she had so recently tended were fairly vibrating with displeasure and the witch's tanned face was flushed with simmering anger. A quote came to mind immediately. 'Pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding...'
"What did you already know?" The quiet question was laced with accusation and Dia sighed quietly, her fingers running over the thin fabric of her slip absently.
"I will answer your question, Hermione, but first I need to you to listen," she began, looking at Hermione calmly. The witch's lips thinned a bit but she gave an affirmative nod.
"I am used to operating on my own. It has been… a long time since I have need to answer to anyone other than myself, and perhaps my family on occasion. Admittedly, I am unaccustomed to it," she said. "I do not claim this is a good excuse as to why I have concealed information from you, however I have learned through experience, that my intuition is nearly always right… and as such, it is often safer to hold one's tongue until more information presents itself. Perhaps that is a very Slytherin concept to you, but it is a method that is tried and true and has helped me reach the place that I am today."
She paused and resisted the urge to smile at Hermione's stony features. Beneath the angry expression, she knew there was a swirl of understanding.
"Before the meeting, I suspected that the ISOS violations were a diversion, though I did not know what end. While your friends have pinpointed Antonin Dolohov and Minerva has pinpointed Petrus D'Artagnan, I have my own investigation underway that is following another lead in Northern Africa. I also have good reason to suspect that the Head Architect, Theodotus Ambrozaitys was killed for the research he was engaged in prior to his contract with the Sagrada Familia, which may connect to that underlying subplot to access ancient weapons," Dia said carefully.
"But you didn't tell Minerva about any of that!" Hermione said indignantly, brow furrowing again. Oh, the righteous anger of Gryffindors...
"Have I sworn my allegiance to the Order yet?" Dia asked sharply.
"No, but-"
"And what has the Order done for me?" Dia asked coolly. Hermione's mouth closed abruptly and something in her expression shifted. There was a hint of guilt. I see Minerva has told you enough to understand my reticence...
"It is not that I do not wish to help your friends, Hermione. But unlike you, I do not know those people well. I do not have the same assurances that they will use the information I provide in a manner that I will agree with, and I do not yet know the skills that each of them possess," she explained gently. Shifting her legs to one side, Dia sat forward, resting her elbow against the back of the sofa and propping her head to gaze at Hermione directly.
"At the moment I have you, whom I've sworn to protect to the extent of my abilities and with my life. I have my family to consider, who has surely experienced their share of heartache and suffering. I have my community here in Greece, other friends abroad… you must understand, darling, that there are many parts of my life of which you are not yet aware, that are as meaningful to me as your friends are to you," she said softly, willing the witch to understand things from her perspective.
Hermione bit her lip and Dia could practically see the thoughts whirling through that brilliant mind with lightning fast speed.
"It is not about wanting to withhold information from anyone. It is about sharing the pieces that are important to a given situation and keeping all of my cards in a place where I can see them and maintain a measure of control," Dia said, her eyes narrowing.
"The question you need to ask yourself is if you are willing to continue your studies and honor your agreement to me, even if it may come into direct conflict with the Order's processes. Or if you wish to dissolve our agreement and return to Great Britain to rejoin the Order on open terms. I suppose a third option would be to continue your studies and not rejoin the Order at all."
Dia stated the options carefully, wanting to ensure that her apprentice understood. The witch glared at her.
"How can say that so calmly?" Hermione hissed, her eyes stormy.
The witch sprang to her feet, raking a hand through her hair, the other coming to rest indignantly on one hip. "You are making me choose between here and there, Master! Don't pretend you're not…"
Hermione paced a small circle, her steps quick and agitated. Dia took a deep breath.
"Merlin's saggy ballsack… this is ludicrous! Of course I want to stay and finish my studies… but how can I abandon my friends back home when there's a threat of this magnitude waiting to get all of us!"
Dia held up a hand, seeing that she needed to be more direct.
"Hermione. I am willing to rejoin the Order if that is your wish. We may enter into the agreement together… however you must understand that there will be times in which I may order you to hold your tongue for the sake of our own contract if I feel our interests are best served by actions alternative to the Order's desires," Dia stated clearly in a voice that brokered no argument.
She crossed her legs and waited.
In the middle of the room, Hermione had stopped - her face clouding and turning thunderous for a moment and Dia was certain that the witch's emotions were building toward a shouting match… but then a moment later, a different realization passed over the beautiful features and Hermione abruptly deflated.
"How you can you even ask that of me?"
Dia felt her heart go out to her apprentice at hearing the anguished tone.
"I can ask it of you, Hermione… because at the end of the day, I am confident that despite the many potential pathways that one can take to arrive to a destination… both the Order and I are on the same path toward Light. I will never deviate from that. However I have tasted enough Darkness to know that I intend to proceed in a different manner… and that sometimes it is necessary to pass through shadows before arriving to one's final destination," she replied softly.
Despite her low tone, her voice was firm and Dia willed her apprentice to understand. I will not be bound to someone else's agenda.
Large caramel eyes looked over her, swimming with unasked questions and a mask of doubt.
"I don't know if I can do that," Hermione said honestly, her voice brittle.
Despite the professed insecurity, the witch slowly walked back to the sofa and sat next to Dia, her hands falling limp into her lap as she stared toward the candles on the coffee table unseeingly.
Dia took a deep breath, reaching forward to trail a light hand down her apprentice's arm… smiling as the smooth skin responded by pebbling lightly.
"I believe you can, Hermione… because unlike others in the Order, you are quickly learning that not everyone walks through the world in the same manner. The majority of the people in that room tonight have learned to fight fire with fire. This is all well and good. However, I hope you can see… that our intelligence tonight has revealed several key aspects about this new threat upon the horizon."
Dia paused, mind quickly organizing her thoughts even as her hand continued to caress her apprentice's arm lightly. Hermione was watching her hand with a frown and her emotions were roiling too quickly for Dia to unravel.
Be careful, Diamantina… if you push too far, you will lose her.
"What element do you believe Voldemort used to wage his wars?" Dia asked softly. Perhaps we can make this a lesson, not a lecture.
Dark sweeping brows drew together as Hermione thought, quickly picking up on the metaphors she knew that Yiayia had been using. Dia continued to trace random patterns on the witch's arm, tentatively hopeful that her apprentice was willing to follow her for just a bit longer.
"Fire… maybe air," Hermione eventually replied, looking to Dia for confirmation. She gave a nod.
"Indeed. Voldemort, like many people who seek power, was largely goal-oriented. He built his power by dominating others… responding to challenges in fiery ways that won his followers through shows of brute force. However, like all grand takeovers, there was a measure of subtle inspiration to his work - air fuels fire, and in that manner, he infused key imagery into his armies - encouraging them to revel in their own imagined prowess, superiority, and cunning intelligence to maintain their devotion."
Hermione shivered and Dia flattened her hand slightly, rubbing the witch's arm with more sure, reassuring strokes. A moment later she continued.
"Now, how would you characterize the actions and theoretical plans of this new threat?"
"Well, the attacks themselves were pure fire. Brash, obvious displays of strength," Hermione responded immediately. She sniffed lightly and turned her head toward Dia, a measure of understanding spreading across her features.
"But from the rest of our discussion, I would say that their ultimate plans seem much more… vague. I don't know how I could choose an element. Their plans make it seem like they're operating in the gray spaces in between," she breathed, leaning into Dia's touch. Dia paused her movement, instead patting the witch's arm gently.
"Indeed," she replied softly.
They fell into silence, each one musing over her own thoughts while the candles flickered around them.
Hermione's emotions were a maelstrom too complicated for Dia to unravel and so she did not try, instead choosing to focus her attention inward... waiting as the young witch next to her grappled with the many potential outcomes of choices she had yet to make.
"Dia?" The surprising use of her nickname made her turn. Hermione was staring at her with a slight crease of worry between her brows.
"I do trust you, you know."
Dia's heart melted at the thin voice and childlike statement and unbidden, she felt her lips curl into a smile. Their bond pulsed lightly.
"Thank you, darling," she replied honestly, allowing herself to stare into bright caramel eyes. They watched each other openly for a long moment before Dia sighed softly, disconnecting herself and moving back. She lifted the thin fabric of her slip with a delicate hand as she rose to standing.
"The hour grows late, Hermione. I do not need an answer from you tonight… though I hope by the end of this weekend we can discuss your plans," she said, waiting for the witch to look up at her.
A moment later, luminous eyes rose slowly… and without their bond Dia would have been hard-pressed to discern the soft spiral of sadness and insecurity behind calm features. She is learning from you, Diamantina… for better or worse.
"Whatever your choice, darling… please know that I will understand. And I will not think more or less of you for anything you decide," Dia said, her lips curling into an honest smile. She sent a wave of reassurance through their bond, briefly filtering away her own sense of wistfulness at realizing this could very well be one of the last times her apprentice sat in her in such a manner.
"I understand," Hermione replied seriously. Unsure of what to make of the witch's stoic expression, Dia simply chose to nod and move away. That was certainly enough for once evening… let her go in peace…
A moment later she felt a sharp spiral of panic, but before she could turn back and question, Hermione's voice called out again.
"Master Kallas?" The voice was almost fearful.
Dia turned, at once concerned to see the witch standing by the sofa… her face suddenly flushed and eyes wary. Hermione visibly shivered, crossing her arms over herself for a moment before something crossed her features… is that embarrassment?
"I… um… I… D'you think, that maybe… I could sleep here tonight?" Hermione gestured at the sofa behind her, somehow unable to meet her gaze.
Instantly, the complex web of emotions made sense. It had been a disturbing evening on more than one level, that much was certain. Even Dia felt her own thoughts weigh heavy.
"Come here, darling," she found herself saying.
Hermione moved closer, clearly expecting a hug even as Dia opened an arm to embrace her.
Rather than pull their bodies together, she began leading Hermione toward the adobe steps and curtain that concealed the path toward her private chambers. What are you doing, Diamantina?!
Dia felt the witch tense as the realization flooded through her about just where they were headed, but she rubbed the young woman's arm reassuringly.
"Don't worry, darling. We both deserve a good night's sleep," she husked softly, pressing aside the gauzy white curtain and leading her apprentice up the short flight of stairs toward her private sanctuary.
A moment later they emerged and Dia waved a hand to light the candles. Unlike her living space and personal study, she preferred less light in the bedroom. The soft amber glow was at once more peaceful.
"This is… amazing," Hermione breathed looking around in awe as her big eyes took in the dark wood floor, the exposed beams of the vaulted ceiling and Dia's favorite feature - the large king-sized bed hanging suspended from it.
Dia had always loved her bed and the heavy ropes that held it aloft - a few feet from the floor - the perfect height for falling into quickly and rising with the sun. Hermione padded closer, reaching out to touch the gauzy fabric that spilled over the ropes and draped around the bed, giving it an opulence that she had always found both airy and elegant.
"I do enjoy it," she found herself replying rather formally, flushing as Hermione sat on one corner of the sumptuous white sheets and comforter with an awestruck smile. The bed drifted gently in response. There was something intensely intimate about the image and Dia turned, suddenly unable to look at her apprentice's intensely beautiful and innocent features. Flicking a hand to her right, Dia wordlessly ignited the candles in the master bath.
"If you would give me a moment, please make yourself comfortable," she said quickly before making her escape.
Sweet Circe.
Rationally, she knew she was overacting. They were both exhausted, overwhelmed, and in need of simple companionship. Yes, she was breaking all of her rules. Swiftly, in fact, however her intuition suggested that while most unusual, it was the right course of action.
Her Apprentice needed her, and that was cause enough.
Looking in the mirror Dia quickly sighed and began her evening ablutions with rapid efficiency.
Best laid plans and all that… she thought with a smile.
Hermione seemed to step around them with alarming regularity.
A/N: The quote that Dia recalls while Hermione is struggling to understand that she's been withholding information is from 'The Prophet' by Kahlil Gibran. Lovely prose... check it out if you've never heard of it.