A/N: Here's a long one for your patience :)
Please enjoy!
-R
"Welcome to the United States Magical Checkpoint in Austin, Texas. Please have your documents prepared and your wand ready for inspection. All organic items and ingredients must labeled and placed in three-quart No-Zip Impenetrable containers. All Magical creatures must be presented with pre-approval from the MACUSA Body for Protection of Magical Species. Undocumented materials will be confiscated under MACUSA Department of Magical Law Enforcement decree number 394."
Dia waited patiently, refusing to roll her eyes at hearing the overly chipper voice for the twentieth time since arriving to the national checkpoint. Somehow she hadn't expected Austin to be so busy on a Sunday evening, however it was also an International checkpoint and she reasoned that a number of international workers would need to commute through the hub before the work week began.
Still… she stepped to one side as a large witch holding a potted Venamous Tentacula narrowly avoided a colliding with her robes. This seems unduly crowded… and tedious.
The elderly wizard before her finally tottered off with his floating purple carpet bag trailing a pair long underwear from one end that Dia simply hadn't had the heart to point out. A tall, angry-looking witch gestured for her to step forward, her black braided hairstyle giving her a rather strict no-nonsense appearance.
"Destination?"
The witch's harsh Southern drawl helped her remain in character and Dia shrank back slightly as she offered her passport.
"Corpus Christi," Dia answered, infusing a bit of anxiety into her demeanor, "Please? Do you know how long the wait will be? I'm told the Double-Crested Kookagnarl are nesting… which shall only last for the next forty-eight hours. Their feathers are particularly rare."
The tall Security witch held up a hand to forestall her chatter, ignoring her question as she flicked through Dia's passport with a heavy hand.
"Address of where you'll be stayin'?"
"I have a room at the Aransas Inn. The address should be written on my reservation parchment," she gestured toward the bundle folded in the back of the small ledger.
The witch's eyes flickered to her with interest and Dia was immediately pleased that the stereotype of butch Security witches seemed to fall into her favor. The small Wizarding enclave hidden on Mustang Island was well-known for its vibrant gay community, though given the MACUSA's iron grasp upon most freedoms, it still remained a word-of-mouth locale.
Dia blinked lightly and flashed a nervous smile.
Hopefully the woman would simply view her as a somewhat closeted academic.
"Fine," her passport was returned along with an appreciative once-over, before the Security witch lowered her voice to a quiet growl, "Try Zelda's when yer there. Good music. Good times, if ya know what I mean…"
The witch's stern face allowed a small wink and Dia allowed her eyes to widen appropriately.
"Next!"
Hurrying away, she pocketed her passport and allowed an internal smirk. If the woman only knew.
Zelda's…
Dia had hazy memories of the witches-only nightclub from a visit while on holiday from her apprenticeship with Neris. There had been one night involving a substantial amount of Tequevón, a Mexican standard which had quickly taught her that Greek ouzo and the ghastly yellowish liquid could not be equivocated.
Waking up in the bathroom of the bar wearing only one layer of robes and hugging a well-greased broomstick had done wonders for her humility and her subsequent vigilance whenever the disgusting liquor was even mentioned. While the witch's suggestion bore a bit of interest, there were some experiences that need never be repeated.
Sniffing quietly, Dia made her way down a long corridor before finding another line for the Floo marked for Corpus Christi. Though she had managed to avoid using the network thus far, Dia knew that Portkeys were generally only allotted for inter-state transportation. Everything else depended upon the Floo and there would have no sense in wasting her energy with such a long-distance Apparition from San Francisco when she still had half the Gulf of Mexico to fly overnight.
"Next."
Dia stepped forward and grasped a handful of grainy powder, breathing deeply as she attempted to prepare her body for her absolute least-favorite method of travel. Throwing it into the flames, she waited for them to glow green, trying ignore the near tease of what her own face would undoubtedly look like in few scant seconds.
"Aransas Inn."
Shutting her eyes against the inevitable embarrassment that was about to befall her, Dia quietly mused that perhaps Tequevón wouldn't be needed after all.
Arriving to the airy entryway of the inn, she absorbed high ceilings, plank flooring, and a few guests milling quietly as she managed one deep breath as the room continued to spin.
Three overly optimistic steps later she became violently ill.
Hermione found herself smiling as she watched her two friends fight over the last piece of baklava.
"- no cut it here…"
"You're taking all of the crust!"
"Am not! Look. Just scoop some of filling there and it'll be even."
If she closed her eyes, Hermione could almost believe that time had stopped… and she could have been sitting at the Gryffindor table or in the kitchen at The Burrow, or even at tea at Grimmauld Place, listening to her friends argue as though nothing had ever changed.
The anxiety she had felt earlier had given way to a deeper sort of melancholy, and although Harry and Ron had reacted to her long-winded explanation of events with far greater acceptance and aplomb that she could have ever asked for, Hermione still felt a strange sense of loss.
The camaraderie between the three of them had shifted slightly and it was as though she could suddenly see the line of stepping stones that had led her away from her two friends and straight into the complicated world of her mastery, Naxos, and the new demands of the Order, Yiayia, and her relationship to Master Kallas. Even though she had managed to extend the first hand toward healing her relationship with Harry and Ron, deep down Hermione found herself wondering if they would ever be able to regain the comfort and familiarity from years past.
Watching her friends bicker seemed to highlight the different directions that their lives were taking. Harry and Ron had always been close, but watching them from across the table, one could have almost insisted that they were joined at the hip.
Almost like… you don't belong anymore…
" - did the same thing last week with the leftover curry even though it was clearly labeled."
"'Was not! Kreacher would've said so!"
"That's not a good excuse. We both know Kreacher can't read well."
Hermione rolled her eyes and pressed a hand to the center of the table. The gesture was beginning to feel familiar.
"Guys. There's always more baklava. I'm sure our hosts would be delighted to bring over extra dessert…" she sniffed lightly, "Believe me, the Greeks might put Molly Weasley to shame with their insistence on second and third helpings."
Harry had the grace to look momentarily sheepish before Ron gave her a thoughtful look and promptly stuffed the entire pastry into his mouth.
"Ron!"
The taller wizard sat back with an incredulous expression, his large hands gesturing as he said something unintelligible as Harry pinned him with a glare. Hermione snorted and waved their waitress over, tuning out the familiar bickering as she requested a few more items.
"When you guys are finished arguing about food, I have a few more things to share with you and a few more favors to request," she said pointedly, earning two expressions of similar embarrassment and interest.
"Anything, 'Mione," Ron replied immediately, stroking his beard with one hand.
The familiarity of the moment blossomed briefly and Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes again and settled on an indulgent smile.
"Thanks, Ron…" she said sweetly, folding her hands and leaning across the table.
"One of my first requests is going to be the permanent abolishment of that nickname. My name is Hermione."
"- really must protest! This is simply beyond -!"
"I'll be just a moment, my dear!"
Eleftheria forced her way past the slightly frazzled seamstress, rounding a corner and pressing into the alterations room with a firm shove. The raven-haired woman she sought was waiting inside, chin tilted over an elegant shoulder, one hand pressed against her sternum to keep an unfinished set of emerald robes in place, as one trademark eyebrow quirked upward in annoyance.
The witch stood upon a small alterations platform before a floating mirror and Eleftheria was momentarily caught off guard by her statuesque beauty. She pulled up short just inside the door, falling prey to the weight of the piercing gaze that was unexpectedly free from trademark silver spectacles.
Eleftheria blinked for a moment before finding her usual vivacious smile.
"Well, well, well… Minerva McGonagall, it has been a long time."
"Madam Kefalas," Minerva replied smoothly, "Your presence is an unexpected diversion."
Despite the calm greeting, the witch could not prevent a tinge of irritation from coloring her soft contralto and Eleftheria found herself grinning even wider. She swept into the room and waved the door shut, deliberately finding an alterations stool and perching at an absurdly low level that she knew would only irritate Minerva further.
"Eleftheria, please. Let's not stand on formalities. And come now, Minerva… surely you'd prefer the diversion of my company to the numbingly droll work of acting a statue?" Eleftheria said cheerfully, arranging her robes with an artful flourish.
Minerva's jaw worked for a moment before she turned back to the floating mirror and plucked an invisible hair from the luminous fabric.
"I daresay I was managing just fine."
"Well, I shan't keep you from your appointment," Eleftheria breezed, summoning a few pins and leaning forward to finish the seam that Madam Malkin had been working on. Overhead, she heard Minerva sigh quietly.
"I received news of your presence only a few minutes previous and couldn't resist stopping in... it seemed a marvelous coincidence that our paths should cross so fortuitously! I thought a quick chat would be in order!"
"It seems I have little choice in the matter."
Eleftheria sniffed wryly and patted the hem of Minerva's robes before rising and looking at the witch in the mirror. She lifted an eyebrow, choosing not to respond to the sharp tone. Already Minerva seemed to be regretting it.
"Upon the contrary, Minerva. One always has choice," Eleftheria replied quietly, standing and circling around to the witch's other side. "Agency is the hallmark of witches such as we two. Who are we if not a product of the choices we have made?"
Eleftheria allowed herself a small thrill of satisfaction at seeing the witch's shoulders drop slightly.
She felt the weight of the emerald gaze watching her as she slipped a few more pins into place along the woman's right sleeve. While the robes remained incomplete, it was clear from the outline that they were going to be stunning once finished.
Unlike the voluminous draperies that Eleftheria remembered from years past, it seemed Minerva had commissioned a set tailored to emphasize her trim, willowy figure.
For the Quorum no doubt…
"There is nothing like a set of bespoke robes to be sure," Eleftheria continued lightly, moving to adjust the waistline slightly, "As Aristotle said, 'Quality is not an act. It is a habit.' True in fashion and also in life, don't you think, Minerva?"
The witch responded with a non-committal hum, clearly waiting for her to arrive to her point.
"Indeed, quality is an element I find lacking throughout contemporary society these days… quality and integrity," she scoffed lightly, "My niece would argue I've been rubbing elbows with far too many politicians, however it does bear scrutiny that they are often the first to succumb to the ease of the unequal compromise or an unbalanced scale, does it not?" Minerva tilted her chin almost imperceptibly, "Though I would imagine a woman of your experience is a dab hand at navigating the complexities of politics?"
Eleftheria summoned her spectacles as she inspected the tacked brocade at the front of Minerva's robes. Impeccably rendered, if a bit uninspired…
"Anyway… what was I saying? Oh yes, integrity…" Eleftheria stepped back and surveyed Minerva's reflection in the mirror, "The balance of power, Minerva… it's what our world frequently boils down to, whether we expect it or not."
Minerva remained silent, watching her carefully in a cautious manner reminiscent of her Animagus.
"And with all the hullabaloo of recent international events, well…" Eleftheria trailed off and kept her eyes focused upon Minerva's impeccable posture, "Between you and me, I'll just say that it's up to those of us who can appreciate the value of quality work and integrity to preserve the balance," she smiled softly and lowered her voice to a purr, "No matter where unexpected interruptions may occur."
For a long moment neither of them spoke. The choice remains in your hands now, Minerva…
Fortunately, that razor sharp mind read between her opaque words and received the underlying message.
"I wonder, Eleftheria, if you would be available for tea later this afternoon?" Minerva inquired politely, clasping her hands demurely.
Despite the warm tone, emerald eyes remained cold and Eleftheria hadn't missed the barest glimpse of dark firwood poking out from the witch's sleeve.
A Cheshire cat smile spread itself slowly over her face and she lifted a coquettish eyebrow. At least Minerva still views you as a threat… you've still got it.
"Great minds think alike, Athena."
The witch blinked slightly at the callsign but beyond that there was no discernible reaction across the smooth patrician features. Eleftheria quietly canceled the privacy charm she had cast upon the door. Madam Malkin, she knew, had been attempting to eavesdrop for the last several minutes.
"I shall meet you in front of Slug & Jiggers in forty minutes and we may continue our conversation somewhere a bit more private," Minerva said, continuing to watch her in the mirror's reflection, "I imagine today's weather would be well served by a strong cup of tea."
"Very good, darling," Eleftheria lifted her arms overhead to smooth the fabric across Minerva's shoulders, "That should give me plenty of time to confer with Mr. Ellipebble over my rather distressing case of hemorrhoids. If you ever visit Egypt, darling… be sure to choose the flying carpet over the camelybras. Three humps doesn't leave much room for comfort, I'll tell you that much!"
Minerva almost smiled as she inhaled and turned over one shoulder with an arched brow.
"Until later, then."
"And please give compliments to Madam Malkin for her fine work. You look positively delicious."
Full lips thinned considerably even as Minerva inclined her head at the compliment. Eleftheria didn't bother to hide a full smile as she stepped back and winked.
"See you soon."
Without waiting for a reply, Eleftheria turned quickly and flung the door wide as she strode from the room, pausing only briefly to avoid running into Madam Malkin who pressed herself against the wall with a guilty expression.
"Ah, thank you for allowing me to step into your appointment. I'll just leave a small tip to ensure no hard feelings for interrupting your busy schedule. I'm sure the holiday rush is just dreadful," Eleftheria gushed, pressing a few galleons into the witch's hand with a firm smile.
"Th-thank you, Madam," the witch stammered, her harsh businesslike demeanor momentarily forgotten.
A thought occurred and before the woman could scurry back to the fitting room, Eleftheria caught her by the elbow and waved the alterations room shut with a subtle gesture. Pressing close to the witch, she lowered her voice and affected a warm, inviting tone.
"Minerva McGonagall remains a good friend of my niece and I find that I have cause for a thank-you gift of sorts," Eleftheria murmured, her face assuming a self-deprecating expression of embarrassment. "I trust that if I add a rather specific item to her order, it could be discreetly included? I am, of course, willing to compensate for the unexpected rush."
Madam Malkin seemed to have recovered from Eleftheria's unexpected presence and her discerning eyes narrowed slightly at the prospect of an offer.
"'T'would depend upon the item," the witch replied haughtily, clearly attempting to regain control of the situation.
"I seem to recall seeing a most promising bolt of dark green silk that I believe would make a lovely evening gown," Eleftheria replied smoothly, a small smile quirking at her lips, "Muggle-style."
There was a flash of interest in the woman's eyes before thin eyebrows drew together and the plump witch frowned slightly, likely calculating time and effort against the promise of a handsome profit.
Eleftheria waited patiently, already knowing that the witch would be hard-pressed to turn down such a unique request. Her sources had already told her that a young Madam Malkin had once chosen to apprentice beneath some of the best Muggle fashion houses in Paris, reportedly giving up magic for close to six years.
"I can leave the specifics with your assistant, however let us say that I am leaning toward something that combines the avant-garde nature of… oh, who's that splendid young man who recently ascended to the throne of Givenchy?"
"Alexander McQueen," Madam Malkin whispered in a faint voice, her eyes wide.
"Ah yes, him… I knew it was something unforgivably chic," Eleftheria murmured, waving a hand, "McQueen mixed with the timelessness of… oh, say, Chanel or Yves Saint Laurent?"
The witch simply blinked at her, likely trying to rationalize how an obvious Pureblood such as herself knew so much about Muggle fashion.
"Do you believe three hundred galleons to be sufficient?"
Bribery hadn't been on her agenda for the day but Eleftheria was nothing if not flexible.
The waves crashing gently upon the long stretch of abandoned beach was reassuring and Dia allowed herself a long moment to simply appreciate the natural beauty of the moment. The salty tang and sharp breeze were so different and yet so similar to the environment on Naxos; if she closed her eyes, she could almost believe that she hadn't traveled halfway around the world at all.
Padding a bit further away from the waves, Dia pulled her robes a bit closer around her body and sighed tiredly as her aching feet sank into the cool white sand. Sea birds were calling to one another in the dying light and the Double-Crested Kookagnarl were indeed nesting, though she couldn't summon any enthusiasm to search the grassy dunes for their elusive roosts.
Following her rather unpleasant arrival to the Aransas Inn, Dia had lain low in her room for much of the evening - electing to call for room service rather than have dinner in the formal dining room that overlooked the Gulf of México. Her entrance had been notable enough and the less interactions she held with other visitors to the inn, the better.
After all, it wouldn't do for anyone to question her absence over the next two days.
Dia cast a Warming Charm over her robes and meandered a bit further down the beach, giving every appearance of outward relaxation even as her senses remained on high-alert, her mind still reviewing the information she had obtained earlier that day. Even though she knew her Disillusionments were well cast, it never hurt to be cautious.
Her impromptu conversation with Daniel had yielded mixed results - confirming her own impressions of Elizabeth Waterhouse's interpersonal relationships at Stanford while unearthing a bit of new drama with regard to the witch's current project.
It seemed that one of Waterhouses' past endeavors had been called into question for failure to properly cite adjustments to her budget and there had been a call to suspend her work in Guatemala just days before her departure. To the dismay and anger of her review board, the witch had ignored the accusations and left the country without so much as an apology for her actions.
To say Waterhouses' colleagues were incensed seemed like an understatement.
The young Muggle man had been a helpful resource, and against her own wishes, Dia had been drawn in by his easy conversation - though it had been harder and harder to prevent her questions from growing more pointed as their discussion had progressed. Obliviation had never been her strong suit, but after the young man had bravely asked after her number toward the end of their talk, Dia had been forced to pull a slight slip of the hand over his coffee.
Wincing, Dia tucked her arms into the rough fabric sleeves of her outer robe and pressed her guilt away.
Daniel would likely awaken tomorrow with a painful headache, a mild case of dehydration, and absolutely no memory of his entire weekend.
Better a headache than yet another innocent life taken too soon...
A rustling noise in the dune grasses startled her from her thoughts and Dia turned into the sound immediately, wand drawn, and muscles coiled. There was a flash of white and a fluttering of feathers and a piping plover suddenly soared overhead, its bell-like whistle thin and tenuous as the sound was nearly swallowed by the wind.
The weather was beginning to take a turn and Dia took a moment to look back down the stretch of beach she had just walked.
Despite the notable lack of civilization, she felt jumpy and anxious. The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end and her stomach churned even as her rational mind was forced to conclude that she was indeed alone.
How long has it been since you flew a journey of this length?
Scuffing a toe in the sand, Dia turned and made her way up the sloping dunes to sit within a gentle valley of sand littered with long grasses and bits of driftwood. Her hands slid over her pockets again, confirming for the tenth time that all of her materials were carefully stowed and contained out of visible and magical sight. There could be no mistakes when it came time to leave.
Low clouds were beginning to obscure the deepening night sky and a moist chill seemed to have settled upon the air, causing Dia to shiver despite the Warming Charm. Setting a tempus, she hunkered down, steadfastly refusing to transfigure her environment to be a bit more hospitable. She would meditate until night fell in earnest and hope that the overcast skies wouldn't develop into anything more sinister.
It was time to wait.
The quiet conversations swirling in the background seemed to contrast the sharp relief of her own inner monologue, however rather than feeling reassured that they were sitting in public, Minerva set down her cup of tea and tried not to feel rattled by the witch across from her. A disconcerting chill ran down her spine and she adjusted her robes to distract from the uncomfortable feeling.
Eleftheria seemed to take her silence in stride and simply sat back as her light eyes gazed out the window toward the snow-covered lane. The late afternoon light was beginning to fade and there were notably fewer people wandering through Diagon Alley than was typical for a Sunday. The weather was rather biting.
Minerva sat back slightly and scanned the small café with a carefully casual gaze. As expected, everything remained to order. Most of the faces she saw were familiar, and while her entrance had prompted the usual barrage of greetings, inquiries, and quiet whispers, she had been satisfied when a few pointed words to the owner had left her to her business without further interruption.
It was not a common occurrence for the Headmistress of Hogwarts to conduct her informal meetings in public, and undoubtedly there would be some offhanded mention of it in The Prophet, however bringing the Greek witch back to Hogwarts - while it would have proven considerably more practical on her end - would have also presented a gesture Minerva was not quite willing to make.
At least not until Eleftheria revealed her motives.
While she knew that her own personal feelings regarding the Architect were still saturated by the circumstances regarding Diamantina's apprenticeship from decades previous, Minerva could honestly say that she didn't dislike the Kefalas matriarch.
The woman was aggravatingly unorthodox and enjoyed far too much inane conversation for her taste, but Minerva also recalled several a pleasant dinner party and a number of well-written articles scattered through various periodicals that belied just how astute and experienced the witch was.
Indeed, Diamantina possessed many of the same talents as her aunt, though it remained clear to all involved that Minerva was more suited to the younger woman's gift for subtlety.
Eleftheria is simply so… loud.
"What is it you are truly telling me, Eleftheria?" Minerva murmured quietly, rubbing the lip of her teacup with an absent thumb. Their conversation had lapsed for long enough.
The elder witch had just relayed several of her suspicions regarding Theodotus Ambrozaitys' untimely death, and while Minerva had been surprised and grateful for the shared knowledge, she hadn't necessarily been shocked by the information itself. The whisperings she had overheard at the emergency conference of the ICW were still hanging in the backdrop of her thoughts, and her surface investigation had revealed more than a few inconsistencies.
"From your palpable lack of surprise, I gather that not all of this was new to you, Minerva," Eleftheria replied, pulling her own cup of coffee closer and tilting her chin. It was a statement, not a question, and Minerva responded with a demure dip of her chin.
The elder witch appeared to sigh softly and her jaw worked for a moment. Immediately, Minerva was curious.
"Theodotus was a good friend of mine," Eleftheria murmured, her shoulders falling in an honest expression of sadness. "I feel his loss greatly and I expect it will also come as no surprise to you that it is my intention to bring his executors to justice."
"Then you intend to begin your journey by investigating his previous research?" Minerva asked, twisting a finger to increase the strength of their shared Muffliato. Eleftheria's lips curled.
"I might," she quipped, shifting to recross her legs and drape a long arm over one knee. Light hazel eyes regarded her intently.
"Diamantina has sent you her itinerary?"
"She has."
"Then you know that she is expected to return Tuesday and that in the meantime her apprentice has been left beneath my charge."
Yet again, it was a statement, not a question and Minerva tilted her head… lips pressing together in displeasure as she absorbed the other witch's tightly portioned bits of knowledge. Her patience was beginning to wane and she knew that the intimation about Hermione's involvement was meant to rile her emotions.
A low blow, Eleftheria…
"Tomorrow Hermione and I have an appointment with another friend in Paris," Eleftheria continued, her eyes watching Minerva unwaveringly. "My niece's apprentice has agreed to a temporary partnership whilst her Master is away… and while I have heard little from my contact, I am reasonably assured that our investigation shall incur new knowledge as to the nature of the event at the Sagrada Familia and, ideally… greater insight into the true desires of those who perpetrated the attacks."
Without missing a beat, Minerva sat forward.
"What is it you seek in exchange?" Minerva asked bluntly, refusing to give into her irritation as the other witch's sober expression dissolved into amusement.
"Ah, how delightful your straightforwardness. I had forgotten," Eleftheria chuckled, smoothing a ringed hand over one knee. "Nearly as delightful as Hermione's."
"And despite your newfound affection for my former student, it does not escape me how quickly you are willing to risk to her life," Minerva replied coldly, unable to prevent a tinge of accusation from coloring her words. The other witch had shocked her by revealing her new arrangement with the young woman; it seemed further concerning when it the witch had implied that Diamantina was to remain unaware. She briefly wondered if Hermione had been coerced, but had quickly shoved that suspicion aside.
Eleftheria's eyes immediately narrowed and she shook her head.
"Not so, my darling," she responded softly, her gaze open and beseeching. "You know as well as I that Hermione is safest at my side while Diamantina is away. And from the course of these troubling events, I think we can safely say that whomever is responsible has not yet revealed their hand… likely because it remains a disorganized one. No harm shall come to her during our investigation."
"It is not the immediate visit that concerns me," Minerva snapped, nostrils flaring slightly in irritation. "It is the consequences should you fail to remain inconspicuous. Despite your talents, you are both easily recognizable figures and there is always a trail of breadcrumbs no matter how dutiful you are in your preparations."
"Do you doubt my ability to conceal our presence?"
The other woman seemed genuinely surprised and Minerva suppressed a snort. She should have expected the arrogance. Gods know that it was often Diamantina's downfall…
That Slytherin vanity could rival her own lion-hearted egotism… and Eleftheria tended to be more open about her failings than most.
"All shadowed matters eventually come to light," Minerva replied patiently. "I do not know the nature of your appointment tomorrow and as such, must consider the worst of foreseeable circumstances. Hermione is as much my responsibility as she is yours… particularly if she intends to join the Order as you have indicated."
At that Eleftheria shook her head fervently and sat forward.
"No. My contact is one of the Guild. He would sooner give his life and snap his wand than submit to cross-examination under duress. I admit he is frustratingly unorthodox otherwise I would have insisted upon a meeting in Athens or Naxos… and that tells you a great deal, considering that opinion of him is my own… however you can be assured that our plans are carefully warded against prying eyes."
Minerva's lips pursed and the other witch sighed heavily and sat back before waving a delicate hand.
"You have your networks and I have mine, Minerva. I shan't apologize for my methods just as I do not expect you to yours. I am simply informing you of what will shortly transpire. Depending upon our meeting tomorrow, I remain hopeful that Hermione and I shall glean new insight into Theo's prior research which I would only be too happy to have her communicate to you and the Order," blue nails drummed upon the tabletop quietly, "And… depending upon how she prepares herself for the Quorum, I imagine that she may also serve useful to you upon Atlantis should you require her services."
Minerva disliked the possessive and slightly offhanded manner in which the elder witch spoke of her former protegé and she took a long moment to sip from her tea as she buried her feelings.
Eleftheria was simply providing her with the unfettered honesty that she preferred and Minerva knew that the witch held Hermione in high regard or she would never have swept the young woman underneath her cloak. The younger witch would indeed remain safe and the thought made Minerva breathe easier, though something in Eleftheria's delivery continued to annoy her.
Hermione is no one's possession...
"Get to the point, Eleftheria," Minerva demanded succinctly, shoving her saucer aside and steepling her fingers.
A flash of something crossed over the other witch's features. Anger, perhaps, but it was quickly replaced by a familiar expression of bemused and genial indifference. Inwardly, Minerva swallowed a smirk. They were so often like oil and water.
"You and I both know that Diamantina intends to remain in the thick of things as matters continue to unfold."
Minerva glared lightly at the opaque statement.
As much as anyone intends to subject themselves to matters of worldwide conspiracy...
Intuitively, she knew that Eleftheria was likely in the process of attempting to wrestle her into some sort of corner by having demanding their meeting. The elder witch would never have volunteered such critical information without wanting something in return, and while that didn't necessarily bother Minerva, she wanted the full picture up front rather than depending upon the limited slices of information that Eleftheria continued to parse out in rations.
"How long do you intend to use Hermione as a pawn in your games?" she asked pointedly, willing her features to remain closed and inscrutable.
The other witch waited a beat, seemingly surprised by her redirection.
"As long as you, I am sure."
Minerva's lips thinned and she bit back an automatically defensive retort. Part of her wanted to reply with the insistence that she did not use people, however she had essentially walked into her own trap. Depending upon perspective, one could argue either point… though it remained most important that Hermione was a willing participant in both of their machinations.
Rationally, she also knew that Diamantina and Eleftheria held their own network of trusted wands much like the Order of the Phoenix, but somehow, having her carefully pruned methods compared to their lack of tangible organization made her bristle in irritation.
Eleftheria sighed.
"Minerva, I apologize for upsetting you… however you have my assurance that Hermione will remain safe. Had I known how important she was to you, I would have reconsidered my approach to our conversation today," Eleftheria said kindly, pressing a blue-nailed hand upon the table between them.
An understanding smile was painted across the other woman's features and Minerva felt her neck flush lightly and she chose to look out the window, embarrassed and annoyed that her feelings regarding the young witch were so readily transparent.
"Too late for apologies, in that regard," the witch continued breezily, turning in her chair slightly so that she could rest a sapphire-clad elbow upon the table's edge. The light hazel gaze softened slightly.
"However, I also suppose you would rather remain informed regarding our… excursions together… just as I imagine Hermione will appreciate having another confidante in that regard as I know keeping her arrangement with me a secret will take an emotional toll."
"And I suppose you would like my assurance that I shall also see that Diamantina remains in the dark regarding this... arrangement?" Minerva asked archly. The thought was troubling on more than one level.
"My niece will undoubtedly discover my… borrowing of her apprentice in short order," Eleftheria smiled, tilting her head in amusement. "However, when that time comes, you can be assured that Dia's wrath will largely fall upon my shoulders. Make of that what you will."
Minerva hummed noncommittally.
They both knew that the other witch did not forgive and forget so easily. And by her own reckoning, she imagined that this matter would cross both the personal and professional from Diamantina's perspective which would catapult the witch into a rather specific sort of fury. Both she, Hermione, and anyone else clued in to Eleftheria's little side trip could anticipate being part of the collateral damage.
Assuredly, Diamantina shall be more than generous in her anger…
And her former apprentice had only recently forgiven her for her misstep the Order summons.
You must tread more carefully where Mis- Hermione - is concerned.
It had not escaped her grasp that she appeared to have a blind spot for the young woman. The simple gaffe nearly two weeks previous had managed to shock her…
While creating the list of former and potential Order members for Ptolemy to contact, her tired and overtaxed mind had simply focused in upon the young witch who had so readily proven herself time and time again during the last War - all considerations of Diamantina and her new life in Naxos aside. Her Head of Elves had apologized profusely for having also neglected the young woman's apprenticeship, but Minerva had waved it off.
The Order's company had been her responsibility and there had simply been no excuses for her lack of consideration. She had simply… forgotten about Hermione's new life while thinking in the context of the Order's needs and that in itself had been more than astonishing.
She had literally been sitting with Diamantina the night previous and yet her mind had managed to conceive of Hermione as a single entity - unattached and essential to the formation of a new Order. The complexities of her apprenticeship had not even registered.
Minerva had scarcely known how to apologize to her former apprentice when Diamantina had made her hurt and anger known.
Sighing softly at the painful thought, Minerva bit the inside of her cheek.
It seems you are destined to continue repeating your mistakes...
She sat back and fingered the clasp on her robes absently, thoughts full of both Hermione and Diamantina as Eleftheria continued ahead, seemingly unaware of her companion's dip in focus.
"- seems that Hermione's capacity for selflessness supersedes my niece's desire to keep her upon the fringes of the coming fight. It seems the young woman is willing to go to great lengths to protect her master…" Eleftheria's bittersweet smile was absently directed toward the snowy lane as Minerva's chest abruptly constricted.
"And while convenient for me, I must admit that the decision to keep Diamantina 'out of the loop,' as it were, did not come from me. Hermione directed our course through omission and I simply chose not to correct it. It seems they have cultivated a deeper connection than even I had anticipated… and I confess that I am selfishly reassured by the fact that my niece is now accompanied by an apprentice as caring and loyal as Hermione."
Minerva grew still as she absorbed the other woman's words. A feeling of ice seemed to settle into her bones and the soft intimation brought forth echoes from her quiet observations at the Kefalas villa. Her mind quickly filtered through the various observations she had made of the two witches over dinner and Minerva's heart pounded, suddenly unnerved to consider that perhaps her former protegés were developing a more fervent connection than simply that of Master and Apprentice.
Hermione's sultry expression flashed through her mind… in the villa's kitchen as she had pressed herself against Diamantina suggestively… followed by the young woman's confession regarding her own interests and orientation… and a smattering of moments and images that belied just how much the young woman had grown.
She is an intelligent witch deserving of an equally brilliant partner…
Minerva's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch and her mood began to spiral.
...and Diamantina would be an excellent match.
Why that thought seemed to pierce straight through her sternum seemed entirely beyond her.
Eleftheria's voice cut through her thoughts and Minerva flinched, thankful when it appeared the other witch's focus had been upon the lane outside the window.
"Which brings me to my next offering, Minerva. One that shall conclude with a request."
Eleftheria's clear gaze flashed rather suddenly and Minerva cleared her throat as she lifted her chin, willing her voice to remain level even as she actively had to work to shuttle her additional thoughts to one side.
"And what might that be?"
The other witch regarded her for a long moment.
"I shall contact you once Hermione and I conclude our meeting in Paris tomorrow," Eleftheria began, her voice taking on a neutral business-like quality. "While I hope my contact will have information that may shed new light upon these worldly disturbances in addition to further insight regarding our late colleague's controversial research, I imagine that I will also receive confirmation of reports I picked up in Egypt last month."
Tension seemed to be infusing the slight frame across from her and Minerva waited, brows drawn as she worked to focus in upon what seemed to be the crux of the elder witch's dilemma. The mention of Egypt did not escape her and her thoughts quickly filtered through the ominous information that Hestia had discovered regarding the Library of Alexandria. Filius' expert calculations had only contributed to the disturbing hypotheses, and Minerva had promptly sent out a call for additional investigation.
Perhaps Pomona's hunch shall be substantiated after all...
"While attending the most recent conference on humanistic geomagicology … there were whisperings of unrest in the desert," Eleftheria's voice dropped suddenly and Minerva was surprised to hear a genuine tinge of fear, "At the time I had no context for understanding the signals, however now in retrospect, I fear that there is a great Darkness brewing in the Sahara… an ancient one - whether rising of its own accord or summoned at the behest of this new world threat, I cannot imagine it to be coincidence. And I have reason to believe that Theo's research… however obscurely covered, may hold a connection to the rumors that have begun to drift my way."
The pointed jaw worked for a moment and Minerva watched impassively as blue nails raked through short black curls impatiently. She elected to remain silent.
"You and I both have contacts in that part of the world."
Minerva nodded when the clear gaze flickered toward her expectantly.
"And I imagine we will find a way to contribute our wands when called to aid… and I am almost assured that we shall be called," Eleftheria let her breath exhale in a long hiss as a pained expression crossed her features, "However I am requesting that you use your considerable influence and abilities to keep Diamantina away from it. When the time comes, that is," the hazel gaze grew hard, "I want her away from it, Minerva. As far away as possible."
Minerva's brow furrowed.
It was hardly the request she anticipated… and no small one considering they were discussing Diamantina Kallas. Outmaneuvering her former apprentice would take considerable doing and both of them knew that she had not a single shot in hell at simply ordering the younger witch to steer clear of any potential conflicts.
Besides, of anyone in her circles, Diamantina, would likely hold the most influence and power in that corner of the world… and to squander her as a resource seemed illogical. She blinked slowly and sat back.
"Why?" she found herself asking honestly.
After all… she did spend several years with Master Abraham…
The furrow in her brow deepened. The request made no sense.
The witch across from her sighed, one long nail tracing random designs upon the tabletop absently. Lightly suntanned features seemed pained.
"Diamantina has yet to move past the events of the First War," Eleftheria replied quietly. "I can imagine you believe that she would be an asset to any sort of conflict or exchange in that part of the world, however I assure you that she would not. Unbound, she is still far too quick to resort to reckless behavior that I would sooner attribute to you ridiculous Fire types…. or lions… Gryffindors, what have you."
The witch waved her hand dismissively but the small joke fell flat.
"Do the Abrahams agree with you?" Minerva asked carefully, noting the resigned expression upon the witch's typically jubilant features.
"I do not know Jethro's perspective. But his wife - Zohar… she is of the Guild and she is in agreement with me."
Minerva sat back and absorbed that bit of information, surprised and somewhat gratified that Eleftheria had allowed the question. It was further surprising that the witch had confirmed her suspicions regarding the Abrahams themselves. While Jethro Abraham and his daughter Avital were infrequent honored guests to Transfiguration Society events, it had long been a rumor that Africa's oldest Wizarding family had also borne a member of the Guild.
I never would have imagined the wife…
She had long thought the Abraham matriarch to be a noted Alchemist… which, if the pseudonym from Ars Alchemica was not Zohar Abraham, then a different mystery remained. Minerva blinked. The matter bore further consideration at a later time.
"Thank you," she found herself murmuring out of tradition and Eleftheria waved it away with a wrinkled nose.
"If anyone deserves a bit more insight into the Guild, it is you, Minerva," she replied tiredly, seemingly undisturbed by the casual brushing of their respective disciplines. Leaning back, she crossed her legs and slid an elbow over the back of her chair before pinning Minerva with a sober gaze.
"Allow me to be frank, darling?"
Minerva gestured with one hand indicating the affirmative. She felt off-balance and unsettled.
Eleftheria's request seemed odd and Minerva was still processing the added complication of Hermione's presence. The young witch was like a snag upon her attention. She wanted to retreat and review her thoughts regarding Hermione's involvement but the woman across from her seemed intent upon providing further context.
"The First War did more than simply unravel my family tapestry, Minerva," Eleftheria stated simply, her eyes narrowing slightly as Minerva grew still. "The deaths of my eldest niece and her son and his family were nearly unbearable, much as I imagine the losses sustained to your own family. This is not the critical issue. I worry for Diamantina not because of her ability to withstand further pain, but for her inability to channel it into magical action that does not result in further destruction."
Minerva's sharp inhale was not lost upon the other woman and Eleftheria's eyes grew lidded as she tilted her chin up slightly. The witch wet her lips carefully before turning to gaze out the window, features growing still and calm as if attempting to balance out the harshness of her words.
"My niece continues to wrestle with her inner demons, Minerva… however unlike you or I, her talent and power is easily magnified by simply turning toward the shadows. She finds an inner strength within them that makes the metaphorical Darkness a seductive place for her… and now that it has been explored, it remains an ongoing temptation that she will be forced to confront for the rest of her days."
The hazel gaze grew sad as Eleftheria sat back, clearly absorbing Minerva's stricken expression and the oppressive wave of guilt that seemed to crash through her like a tidal wave.
"I do not pity her, Minerva and neither should you. She made her own choices and she has accepted them, therefore it stands to reason that the rest of us should simply follow suit. However, I hope that you will agree that in order for her to continue living the peaceable life she now desires, it would be best to remove temptation from her path. Do you follow me?"
A deep churning sensation was roiling through her gut and Minerva could do little more than nod as her hands fisted her robes, breath coming in uneven spurts as she wrestled with the confirmation of a terrible truth she had long suspected but never confirmed.
Gods, Diamantina… what have I done to you?
Eleftheria's raised eyebrow lowered and her expression grew hard and pensive as she gazed into her coffee cup.
"So long as I am alive, Minerva… I have made it a point to ease Diamantina's burdens to the best of my ability," she said forcefully. The witch's mouth worked for a moment before her shoulders slumped, deflating just as quickly as her words had grown sharp. "I failed her many years ago when I should have seen her through the tempestuous aftermath following Eva's death… and I have since resolved not to make that same mistake again."
Light hazel eyes flickered in her direction.
"I should hope that her friends might consider offering the same favor."
They were silent for a long moment and Minerva was simultaneously angered and relieved that they were in public lest her reaction have manifested in either a magical or verbal outburst that she would have come to regret. Dimly, she imagined it had been a calculated move upon Eleftheria's part.
"What can you possibly imagine is waiting in the desert?" Minerva croaked, aware of the thready note lacing her voice and the fact that her question had already been answered to the best of the witch's ability.
Rather than reply, Eleftheria simply looked at her… head cocked slightly as if listening to the inner whirling of thoughts and emotions raging within Minerva's mind.
"I do not blame you, Minerva," Eleftheria murmured quietly, her typically sharp gaze at once absent while she gave Minerva the space and distance to recompose herself. "For any of it."
A quiet pain had settled into her chest that had nothing to do with nerve damage or curses and Minerva grew still as her eyes narrowed in consideration of the quiet words. Her first instinct was to snap a sharp reply but something in Eletheria's countenance gave her pause. She had never expected sincerity. Or deserved it...
"You were a gift in her life, Minerva, I hope you understand that," the witch continued, her voice distant and thin as if she were speaking the words from very far away. Minerva's lashes fluttered.
"I hope that one day you will learn to forgive yourself."
Eleftheria's features twisted into a wry sort of smile - as if admitting the gentle words aloud physically pained her.
Which, Minerva considered ruefully, perhaps it did.
It took another moment for the offering to connect and Minerva opened her mouth to reply but the words died upon her lips as Eleftheria fixed her with a pained expression so raw it seemed to mirror her own inner landscape.
"Help me keep her safe, Minerva."
The melodic Greek accent seemed thicker than usual, immediately drawing Diamantina's musical voice to mind. Her former Apprentice had never managed the RP accent to the same degree of accuracy as her aunt and Minerva's head dipped slightly as she gazed out the windows for a long moment, drawing upon the visual of frosted glass and clean snow to assemble her quiet mask of calm.
"Please?"
Ron fidgeted slightly, his smile beginning to crack around the edges as he waited for Harry and Hermione to make their way across the restaurant. The unfamiliar Muggle coat that the witch... Yiayia had transfigured for him was making his legs feel remarkably exposed, and despite the heaviness of the fabric, he was already aching to return to the swirling comfort of his Academy robes.
Outside the sunlight had all but gone and although the elder witch had assured them that the owners of the Muggle restaurant were "family friends," Ron couldn't help but feel guilty at how long they had stayed. It just wasn't proper.
He managed an awkward smile as their waitress pressed past him.
"- not sure when that will be. I'm sorry, Harry."
Ron waited as Harry sighed and nodded, his expression turning pensive as he offered Hermione a wry smile.
"I know that she has more growing up to do, Hermione… but I really think that if the two of you can get away from everyone to sit down and talk like old times, she'll manage to come around. 'Specially if you… y'know tell her what you told us earlier?"
Harry lifted one shoulder awkwardly as Hermione sighed and pressed an errant curl behind one ear.
"I don't disagree with you, Harry," she replied softly, "But there is nothing that can truly take us back to 'old times'... you also have to understand that what we had before may no longer be possible."
Harry's face contorted into frustration and he paused, open-mouthed as Ron interrupted by placing hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I think we've probably discussed enough future problems to last us well past the hols," Ron murmured good-naturedly, flashing both friends a crooked smile, "Let's let it all rest until we see each other next, yeah?"
The tension around Hermione's eyes dissolved slightly as Harry sniffed and nodded in agreement. Ron felt a measure of relief. Hermione's been through enough today.
"Can I assume you've made some plan for us to get out of here?" Ron asked quickly, trying to smooth over the awkward shift in conversation. He was pleased when Harry picked up on it and followed suit.
"Yeah… are there any more taxi rides in our near future? If so, this time I'll have to cast an Anti-Nausea Charm."
Hermione chuckled and shook her head as she moved them closer to the door.
"No… well, yes. I sent Yiayia a message and she should be here shortly," a tanned hand scrubbed over elegant features in a way that felt reassuring. At least his friend wasn't completely lost to her new aristocratic ways. "She'll explain your means of returning home. We assumed that you would head back to Grimmauld Place."
"Are you heading back to Greece tonight?" Ron asked curiously. While privately he hoped that his friend had traveled all the way to London just to see the two of them, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn that their meeting was coinciding with some sort of learning experience. Her Mastery schedule seemed rather intense.
"Yes. Originally we were going to travel to Paris for another appointment, but fortunately Yiayia thought ahead and moved it to tomorrow. As I said, I may have more information to tell you afterward, so keep your coins close."
Ron whistled under his breath.
"Blimey… all that traveling in two days? Your master must be good friends with the international Portkey authority," he sniffed, catching Harry's eye.
Privately, he had already gathered that Hermione's master came from a rather well-established family… however even such country-hopping on a whim seemed rather grandiose. Perhaps her master's line is even more pure than I thought...
A strange expression of confusion crossed over his friend's face before Hermione shook her head tiredly. She allowed Harry to help her into her coat.
"What? No, we don't use Portkeys," she murmured, her features shifting into a falsely bright smile as their waitress came back around to wish them an enthusiastic farewell.
Ron opened and closed his mouth even as Harry sent him a questioning look, clearly missing the point that left him rather stunned. He tamped down a swell of frustration at Harry's naïveté.
Merlin, I swear he never reads…
As Hermione started to thank the woman for what seemed the millionth time, Ron snagged her elbow and began steering both of his friends toward the exit, a polite smile firmly planted in place.
"Ron! That was rude! She was just -"
"Whatever… it was a good meal," he muttered, waving over his shoulder as he pressed Hermione through the door, "C'mon, let's move. Now what do you mean you don't use Portkeys? How did you get here today?"
The disgruntled look on Hermione's face smoothed over and she tilted her head, clearly realizing her small slip as she adjusted the tie around her lovely camel-colored coat. Ron's eyes narrowed.
"We Apparate," she replied in clipped tones, one eyebrow lifting in an aloof manner that strangely reminded Ron of the Headmistress. Long hands disappeared into pockets as Hermione brushed past him, her heels clicking on the sidewalk even as Harry's expression finally morphed into one of disbelief.
They had started walking toward a street corner by Hermione's initiative and Ron had the sneaking suspicion that their friend was once again concealing more information.
"Whadd'you mean you Apparate? That's thousands of kilometers, Hermione! You can't tell me-"
"It's complicated," Hermione interrupted, still marching onward without looking at either of them, "I don't do the work, actually… it's really-"
"There you are, darlings! I was worried I'd missed you!"
The three of them turned, Ron's irritation abruptly swelling as their guide from earlier appeared to skip down the sidewalk toward them, one gloved hand waving a strange furry object that reminded him of an oversized puffskein.
"Yiayia," Hermione called by way of greeting, affecting a tight smile as she turned over one shoulder. Ron swallowed and shoved his hands into the pockets of the blasted coat. Yiayia frolicked closer and quickly bestowed airy kisses upon the lot of them while Ron studiously avoided whatever dead animal remained clutched in her hand.
"Oh, d'you like my muff?" Yiayia asked, holding the furry thing forward for him to inspect. Ron backpedaled slightly, blushing scarlet even as he heard Harry snicker.
"Oh… um, s'all right… really…"
Hermione made a small scoffing noise before punching him in the arm in a manner that was familiar except for the sharp pain that followed. She really has been working out...
"It's a Muggle thing, Ron… honestly," his friend hissed, her breath glowing beneath the streetlamps, "They use it for warmth."
"Oh… er, right. Makes sense, I guess."
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and tried to smile even as Harry snickered and Hermione didn't even attempt to conceal a solid eyeroll. Yiayia grinned unapologetically and waggled her eyebrows suggestively before tucking both hands into the muff and shrugging carelessly.
Why would they name it that?!
"Well… it seems your adventure today has left everyone intact and in good spirits. I trust all went well, darling?"
The last bit was addressed specifically to Hermione who nodded shyly and smiled in confirmation.
"All was well," she replied softly.
Warm caramel eyes flickered toward them and a moment later, Ron's ire melted as the witch suddenly pressed herself forward into another three-way hug that left Harry clutching his shoulder awkwardly as Hermione attempted to nestle between them. He heard her sigh softly.
"I promise I'll explain everything in more detail, but please just trust that I'm doing the best that I can?"
The quiet whisper was nearly lost to the fabric of Harry's coat and against his will, Ron felt his earlier irritation soften in response. From everything they had discussed, it was clear that Hermione had enough on her plate and he tried to push his frustration toward the back cauldron and focus on the simple fact that her life sounded complicated enough.
He knew that she could handle herself.
"Of course, 'Mi- Hermione," Ron husked, keeping his eyes on their friend as they collectively pulled back. She sent him a knowing smile and gave a little incline of her head to indicate she had appreciated the conscious amendment to her nickname.
While he felt a small pang that he was no longer allowed to use the sobriquet from their childhood, Ron made a mental note to try and remember it since it seemed to be an important point to Hermione. Wryly, he imagined it would take a bit of doing. Neither the Academy nor The Burrow put great stress on proper speech in the same way that seemed his friend's new life seemed to emphasize. He couldn't recall her ever sounding so… posh.
"Yeah, we'll keep an eye out for your message," Harry agreed, stepping back and shoving his hands into coat pockets. His eyes crinkled lightly and he shrugged one shoulder. "It was really good to see you, Hermione."
Hermione's answering smile was blinding and Ron's heart clenched painfully as she reached out to grasp their hands again.
"I'm so glad we did this," she whispered, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Thank you for coming, I… I really appreciate it."
They exchanged another hug and a few more murmurs of reassurance while Ron tried not to feel uncomfortable as the elder witch watched them all with a fond little smile.
Eventually, Yiayia slipped them a new set of Portkeys and explained their schedule and he knew their time was already ticking. Even with the new knowledge that the witch was an Architect who had potentially contributed to past Order efforts, she still made him uneasy.
"Don't be a stranger," Ron finally said, trying to infuse the words with a bit of encouragement as he and Harry stepped back again.
"I won't," Hermione whispered, drawing back as Yiayia placed a gentle hand on his friend's elbow. For some reason, the image made him turn away and Ron clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, letting his focus rake over the quiet suburban lane for a long moment as Harry called out his final goodbyes.
"A pleasure meeting you both," Yiayia crowed cheerfully, waving her muff overhead as she drew their friend backward into the deepening shadows. "I daresay we'll be meeting again soon!"
Harry managed a half-hearted wave before they both turned away, falling into step even as Ron caught his friend's expression fall slightly out of the corner of one eye. Somehow, it felt hard to leave without Hermione. At least he knew that he wasn't alone in his melancholy.
Their footsteps echoing softly on the worn concrete, Ron sighed, fingering the uneven edge of the Portkey in his pocket as he struggled with the wave of emotion that threatened his composure. His mind was full of snippets of their long conversation, Hermione's beautifully chiseled features, and their shared questions about the uncertain future.
Struck by one last moment of unidentifiable longing, Ron turned over his shoulder to catch a final glimpse of their friend before she disappeared into the wintery evening. His sharp intake of breath resulted in a cold lungful of air that only seemed to emphasize the moment.
Hermione was already gone.