A/N: Thank you always for the feedback - I love it all, the questions, comments, worries, likes/dislikes... keep it coming! It helps my process tremendously!

Dia sat upon one of the low outdoor couches on the veranda outside her bedroom, curls tossing in the wind as she reviewed her notes with a frown. With no word from Eleni or Stelios, she had decided to move forth with the task she had accepted from the Order, electing to begin her research with a thorough investigation of the witch, Elizabeth Waterhouse.

Since Hermione's departure, Dia had been restless… unable to read the course of her apprentice's mood once she had left the island. Rationally, she knew that the distance would be helpful to Hermione. The young woman was still learning how to temper her blazing first impressions and to look toward the future with greater objectivity. When it came to situations that did not involve her directly, Hermione was rather accomplished for one so young. But with pressure of her friends and loved ones hanging upon her shoulders, Dia could understand the witch's uncertainty.

Her aunt had stopped by around noon, and while her presence had been a unexpectedly welcome distraction, Yiayia had quickly lost patience when Dia had revealed her new assignment upon the Order's behalf. While she had agreed that Petrus D'Artagnan's involvement was troubling, Yiayia had been insistent that Dia return her efforts toward uncovering the mysterious circumstances of Theodotus' death. The ensuing disagreement had boiled down to differences in perspective and old lines of loyalty between the disciplines, though Dia's ire had skyrocketed with her aunt's dramatic departure which had subsequently filled the kitchen with enough smoke that she had been forced to open all the windows.

It was not often that they disagreed, though Dia knew that Yiayia had never been able to treat the Order of the Phoenix with her typically jovial objectivity. While Yiayia's unique abilities had uncovered additional information to aid in the investigation surrounding her old friend, Dia's own intuition pointed more fervently toward her former allegiance with Minerva. And, despite her continued annoyance with her former mentor, Dia was convinced that Petrus D'Artagnan was not a threat that they could afford to ignore.

Turning back to her research, Dia cleared her mind and continued to read. Her work would endure with or without an apprentice and certainly with or without support from her aunt.

With a sigh, Dia mulled over the copy of an addendum attached to Elizabeth Waterhouse's most recent travel grant.

Thus far, her initial assessment had offered very little as to the nature of the witch's value.

Waterhouse had indeed become a successful archaeologist in the last decade, though Dia was less impressed for the woman's discoveries than for her shrewd business sense and the uncompromising manner in which she had handled her accounts. The witch seemed to have a monopoly upon sites uncovered in the northeastern corner of Guatemala, the northern half of Belize, and a small area of México to the south… and Dia was almost certain that she would uncover a series of unorthodox methods behind the witch's success.

Most of the witch's "discoveries" had been found in urban zones - a majority uncovered during Muggle construction work and quickly seized by Waterhouse and her teams. It seemed that the witch had consistently managed to circumvent a plethora of problems with each new discovery; several miraculous strokes of luck had avoided local politics, permits, zoning privileges, and governmental authorizations, and it seemed that Waterhouse had been adept at returning to her own granting organizations and earning special exceptions to most of her funding parameters.

Dia would have to wait until arriving into the States before gaining further access to the MACUSA networks and messaging her contacts at Gringotts-Knox, but all the signs seemed to indicate that Waterhouse had wielded her financials in a manner that had essentially paid for her career.

Cunning, Miss Waterhouse, I shall give you that…

Though part of her admired the woman's stealth and foresight at having monopolized a niche that few in the Magical realm would have considered profitable, Dia was loathe to accept the witch's blatant laziness and imperialist attitude as it applied to her career - no matter what positive affirmations Minerva had heard from Madam Hesperia. She could only be pleased that the witch had only fulfilled her first classifications in Transfiguration, thus saving her from the obligation to protect the woman's academic honor.

If, in the course of her investigation of the witch's disappearance, the particulars of Waterhouse's activities happened to be leaked via an anonymous source… well… the witch's legacy was not her problem.

A familiar thrum pulsed through her and Dia looked up from her array of parchments, immediately discerning that her apprentice had returned to the villa grounds. A wordless redirection of her attention quickly told her that Hermione was ascending the steps back to the villa, her mood floating between somewhere between contemplative and anxious.

Dia vacillated for a moment, debating whether or not to meet the young woman in the kitchen or to remain as she was until Hermione sought her out. Better to remain… she has enough to consider without your interference.

There was a brief flash of guilt for how she had handed the young woman her ultimatum, but Dia took a steadying breath and quickly dissolved it. There was no use apologizing for measures that were non-negotiable in her eyes and it was better that she delivered the hard information to Hermione upfront. At this point Dia knew herself well enough to be honest about things she was willing to change... and her methods of collecting and processing information were not one of them.

She could only hope that Hermione would be willing to look towards the larger picture of both her career and the upcoming changes to the global climate to make her final decision.

Hermione,

It was good to see you last night, if only for a short while. Gawain reckons that there will be a lot of work for us to do in the coming weeks, though it feels good to lend a hand even in the midst of our studies. We're hoping that you'll come back to pitch in, but a few of the "adults" have knocked some sense into us about that and I expect that nothing will be quite as easy as it was when we were younger.

From McG's words, I know you probably have a big decision to make in the coming weeks. Just know that whatever you decide, Ron and I are behind you 100%. You were always the smartest in the bunch. I trust you to make the choice that will be best for yourself.

I'll be honest that your silence hurts… I know it does Ron as well. Ginny says that you no longer have time for us and that you've left us behind, but I don't believe that's true. Whatever happened to you, Hermione… know that Ron and I still love you and we'll always be here for you whenever you're ready to return… whether that's soon or in a few more years.

Miss you lots as always and looking forward to hearing from you…

Love,
Harry

PS: Ron and I made a study schedule like you used to do for us and y'know what? It actually works! Still wish you were here to yell at us though… we tried to get Kreacher to take up that duty but he just bribes us with treacle tart instead.

Hermione blinked back tears even as she chuckled… trying to imagine Kreacher withholding dessert so that her boys would study… Oh Harry.

Sunburnt and slightly windswept, she had discovered the letter waiting for her on the kitchen island upon re-entering the villa, and in her haste to shower and redress, Hermione had nearly missed seeing it. The familiar messy scrawl had immediately given away the sender, and though Hermione's first impulse had been to seek out Master Kallas, something in her gut had caught… and she had elected to sit down and read it instead.

Smiling again, Hermione skimmed over Harry's words, silently appreciative for her friend's unwavering devotion. It was more than reassuring to know that she hadn't completely lost his support, and she felt a lump arise in her throat as she realized how very much she had needed that simple affirmation.

Harry's honest words stung a little, but Hermione knew that she deserved it, and she felt slightly relieved by the fact that Harry had read into her silence… and had possibly perused his own memories for evidence of her elusive behavior.

Folding the parchment, Hermione pulled out the second letter and shook her head at the handwriting. It looked like one of Molly's chickens had picked up a quill.

'Mione,

(It'll be worth it to receive your hexes if the nickname just made you roll your eyes for old time's sake, haha.)

Like Harry said, I just wanted to write that we all support you in whatever you decide, Hermione - though it did take some convincing from Dad and Perce for us to understand that finishing your studies might be the best option for you right now. (Don't tell Perce I ever agreed with him).

Ginny's being a right pain, but you know how her temper is… should you ever decide to come back for a visit you always have a place with us or at Kreacher's house. We'll knock some sense into her in the meantime.

Hope you're doing hard spells and reading too many books and inventing stuff that neither Harry or I can understand…

Love you lots,
Ron

Ron's shorter letter made her laugh out loud, likely as he intended. Hermione shook her head again with a fond smile as she reviewed both parchments, rising from her stool to lean one hip against the center island even as her thoughts drifted toward her friends from the previous night.

Hermione had been impressed with the two of them and how much they had grown since she had last seen them. Both of them had possessed the chiseled look of young men - their proper Academy robes hanging off their lanky figures with an easy sort of grace… Harry's hair still as thick and unmanageable as ever, and Ron boasting a scruffy sort of beard and mustache that had suited him well.

She had been additionally proud at witnessing how the two had conducted themselves at the Order meeting. Harry had been more quiet that she would have guessed though Hermione had been pleased to see that their mentor, Gawain Robards, clearly seemed to have taken the both of them under his wing. The older wizard had seemed just the right sort who could cut through all of Harry's guilt-ridden worries and self-imposed mantle of martyrdom to knock some sense into him. Ron had been surprisingly confident in delivering his ominous predictions of the future and Hermione had been thrilled to see him flexing his strategic skills in earnest.

Ginny was another matter and Hermione felt a stab of guilt for how little regard she had given to the witch who had once been one of her closest female friends. Hermione knew that there would be no way for her atone for her mistakes except in person, though it didn't seem like an opportunity was going to avail itself in the near future.

Sighing quietly, Hermione folded both parchments and tucked them back into their envelope, resolving to answer both as soon as she found a spare moment.

Well… at least you know your decision will be accepted.

With a wave Hermione banished the envelope to her room and paused, staring out the window absently where the sea looked just as blue as it had on Koufonisi.

Uncharacteristically, the familiar sight made her feel restless.

For once, Hermione didn't desire to look at the summer-y free-flowing Mediterranean, blooming flowers, nor scraggy rocks of Naxos.

While leaves had fallen from some of the trees around the island, the seasons weren't nearly as tangible as they were in Great Britain. Hermione suddenly longed for the fresh, earthy scents of autumn, the biting chill of the changing weather, and the brilliant changes in color that she remembered from home.

Autumn was a time for curling up in the library with a book, drinking spiced pumpkin cocoa in the mornings, and sipping warm butterbeers after brisk walks through Hogsmeade.

For a brief moment, Hermione was perplexed by the sudden shift in her mood… before she realized that she simply longed for a familiar environment in which to hold her conversation with Master Kallas. Sighing to herself, she pressed away from the kitchen island and began the journey to her rooms… wondering how to best address her many thoughts and concerns.

Master Kallas deserves your honesty… but you also need to clearly outline your own demands if this arrangement is going to work.

Brow furrowed, Hermione quickly floated through her rooms… preparing a few things in the space while her mind already conjured a list of non-negotiables that would hopefully be met by her master's understanding.

She showered quickly, dabbing aloe across her face and shoulders to counteract the rosy flush that they had gained after too much time spent in the sun. The skin across her stomach, back, and hamstrings already felt uncomfortably hot and tight and Hermione knew that she would have to seek out Master Kallas for extra burn paste as well.

Annoyed with herself, she elected to put on a single set of white under robes, wavering for a moment before deciding to go commando. The loose robes tied across her waist much like a bathrobe leaving a rather daring swath of skin exposed between her breasts. The fabric was a light cotton silk blend and Hermione cast a cooling-charm upon it, knowing that she would soon be too miserable to care whether or not her master saw her in such a state of undress.

Sighing, Hermione ran through her thoughts again as she pinned her curls into an artful pile on the crown of her head.

You must be clear regarding the points you will and will not compromise…

Sniffing slightly, she realized that she had unconsciously borrowed a style that Master Kallas frequently affected - a simple twist and a waterfall of loose spirals. Somehow the involuntary choice made her smile and Hermione found she was pleased that style seemed to lengthen her neck and draw her features upward in a complementary way, making her appear slightly older and more mature.

Glancing over her reflection again, Hermione's thoughts faltered and she gently lifted her fingertips to trace one side of her robes… traveling across the shadowy curve of her collarbone… down between the valley in her breasts… and brushing the bare skin that disappeared into white folds just past the shadow of her upper abdominals.

There's also the matter of your mutual attraction…

Biting one lip, Hermione stared at herself for a moment longer, wondering what would happen if she gave voice to some of her other demands.

In the haste and turmoil of the past week, there had been little time to consider some of the other facets of her being that had also demanded their own creative research. The unexpected revelation about her mentor's sexual orientation seemed laughably distant in comparison to everything else that she had absorbed in the last several days.

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione realized that it had not quite been a week since she had learned that particular fact about Master Kallas… and since that time had already seen enough compelling evidence to suggest that the witch was more than amenable to her advances.

You're already planning to continue your studies… why should this development be any different?

Rationally, Hermione knew that getting involved with one's master was far from simple… and that while Master Kallas had already voiced her attraction, events had shifted things into a realm far more complicated than either of them could have foreseen at the beginning of the week.

There was also the matter of her classification status.

Hermione hadn't been surprised to learn that her master had her own rules regarding additional developments in the course of her apprenticeships, but it also seemed as though Master Kallas was already willing to set her rules to one side. Hermione couldn't decide whether or not to be flattered to be an exception, or somewhat worried.

It would have been one thing to ask for the witch's help as she explored her own interests and desires against the backdrop of her apprenticeship, but now they were turning down a path that would undoubtedly force them into far more intimate territory than Hermione had originally anticipated. Would adding a physical dimension to their relationship push it over the edge?

You are asking for too much.

Shaking her head, Hermione turned from the mirror and quickly strode toward the window. She pressed it open and inhaled the scent of gardenias and salt water.

No one ever said that you had to fall in love with the witch…

Still… a niggle of self-preservation resounded at the back of her mind and Hermione sighed, one hand sneaking into her robes and rubbing at the stinging skin beneath her breasts absently.

You should at least bring it up.

Yes. She would allow herself that Gryffindor-ish impulse for the simple nod to clarity. If she and Master Kallas were going to work as a united front, they needed to be on the same page regarding all aspects of their relationship.

Lips twisting slightly, Hermione put her hands on her hips and surveyed her room before deciding there was nothing else to do. She had left the witch hanging long enough.

It's time to go find your Master.