328A/N: Very much a WIP. Please see note at very bottom for a bit more detail about what is to come... Thank you for reading!
Hermione Granger sat on a large outcropping of rock, chin firmly planted on one knee as she gazed out over the Aegean sea. Lost in thought, she barely registered soft footsteps coming toward her over the reassuring rhythm of waves below. A dark hand on her shoulder startled her and she unconsciously gripped her wand as she turned with a small intake of breath.
The familiar face of her Master gazed down at her with a warm smile, light seafoam colored eyes crinkling at the corners and dark curls spilling over one shoulder.
"Hermione, I know you're still mulling over our earlier discussion, but Eleni will have dinner prepared soon. Care to make your way indoors?" she asked with a small tilt of her head. Hermione responded with a quick smile before sighing and settling back into her former position looking out over the sea. She was being somewhat rude, but she knew her Master would allow it under the circumstances.
It had been an unexpectedly jarring day.
"A few more minutes…" She mumbled. A soft caress of her shoulder told her that Master Kallas had understood and she waited for the light footsteps to fade away as the older woman picked her way back up the steep hill towards the villa.
The sun had just fallen beyond the horizon, leaving the sky a glorious display of vibrant red and orange. High above, the first stars were just becoming visible against the deepening cerulean blue of the approaching evening. A light breeze wound its way through her curls, tickling her back.
She had been on Naxos for nearly a year and a half, but the sheer beauty of the natural world never ceased to amaze her. Hermione found herself opening her eyes wider, trying to capture the subtle gradient of changes in color and texture as day made its way into night. Her thoughts were jumbled, rolling and crashing into one another with more eddies and spirals than the waves meeting the rocks just a few more meters below.
She sat for an undetermined amount of time, lost in her questions and musings as a light lavender slowly replaced the brilliant colors of sunset and the distant silhouettes of the neighboring islands, Koufonisi and Schoinousa, fell into shades of deep indigo.
A distant bell sounded and Hermione sat up with a sharp inhale, aware that she had likely kept her Master waiting. She swung her legs around and planted bare feet on the gravelly white path, shaking herself free from her reverie.
Her long legs were more than sunkissed by this point. On her infrequent ventures into town, she was often mistaken as a local between her bronzed skin and dark riotous mane that now spilled halfway down her back. The Mediterranean weather had done wonders for her hair - no longer bushy and uncontrolled, it fell in soft curls with golden highlights from the sun. She wasn't sure if it was the regular doses of salt water, the simple benefit of age, or the handmade shampoo that her Master brewed, but Hermione was willing to take it.
For the first time in her life she felt free from concerns about her appearance and had instead learned to revel in the changes to her body - the softening of her hair was one benefit, but living on an island had returned her love of swimming and exploring outdoors - leading to lithe and supple muscles, a strong core, and an empowered sense of her own body that was new and thrilling.
Gone were the days of insecurity about her own form or subtle doubts about her own physical capabilities. Her apprenticeship had come with hard work.
The first six months had her running long-distance around the island and hiking regularly up Mount Zeus as Master Kallas had insisted upon developing the relationship between her physical and magical strength. Later she had moved on to actual strength training as they breezed through her first few levels and she had gotten hung up on the complexities of durational spellwork in the fifth.
Eleni, her Master's House Elf, had begun plying her with protein shakes in the morning, popping in with uncanny precision at least a half hour before her workouts, sometimes staying with a stopwatch to offer times on her circuits in a high-pitched trilling voice.
Upon her arrival to Naxos, Hermione's Master had introduced Eleni and Stelios as the two House Elves under her employment. The statement had been stressed with a subtle arch of a brow and Hermione had nearly burst with excitement and pride at discovering her new mentor was as unyielding in her beliefs about equal rights for Magical Beings as she herself.
It was a match made in heaven.
In the subsequent months, Hermione had become closer to both elves whose entire families had been educated in Athens for generations under the protection of two prominent wizarding families, one of which included her own master's.
Stelios was a stately older Elf with a shock of soft white hair and a memory like a steel trap. He was practically a living library and Hermione frequently found herself consulting Stelios regarding local geography and unfiltered accounts of Wizarding history in Ancient Greece. She quickly found a close friend in Eleni, who had a love of Muggle poetry and a dry wit despite her young age ("Forty-three years, which is still a teenager by Elvish standards… though I am your elder nonetheless and you would do well to remember it!").
Hermione had enjoyed many long conversations with both elves debating everything from magical theory (Stelios had absorbed much of his Master's research over the years and had been sworn to secrecy), to the ISOS addendums regarding magical creatures, to the best brands of Muggle cleaning products.
Her apprenticeship had progressed rapidly and Hermione was nearly complete with her first classifications. Though Master Kallas was not one for overstated displays of affection, Hermione had gathered that the older witch had been pleased by her rather rapid progress. While her Master exuded a natural warmth in simple day-to-day matters, she was otherwise difficult to read. Hermione knew the witch held her abilities in high confidence, but as she drew closer and closer to the end of her first classifications, she couldn't help but feel nervous as she prepared her theses for Master Kallas' consideration. The witch was enigmatic and mysterious with an uncompromising demand for innovation and quality that made her a formidable voice in both her disciplines.
The walk up to the villa seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and Hermione found herself at the edge of the outdoor terrace, watching blankly as her Master finished restoring the edge of a chipped pergola overhead where lavender fronds of wisteria waved gently in the evening breeze. The broad wooden table had been set for two, including a bottle of Merlot and several small candles charmed into floating lazily overhead.
Master Kallas spotted her and gestured politely to sit as Eleni arrived to arrange their meal. Dinner was an unusually silent affair as the two women exchanged plates wordlessly, piling them high with fresh salad greens, roasted eggplants, light cheeses, and a rather scintillating dish of grilled peaches and balsamic vinaigrette.
Hermione focused her attention on the food - the rich blend of flavors and herbs, the freshness of the vegetables, and Eleni's talented touch at plating the individual dishes. Eventually, however, the meal reached its end, and her Master folded her napkin primly and pushed her plate aside. Hardly daring to look over her wine glass, Hermione waited as the other woman folded her arms on the table and leaned forward.
"Hermione. It's time to talk."
Hermione immediately blushed, feeling the heat spread across her neck and beneath the neckline of her linen shift. She pushed her wine glass out of reach, wondering how she could feel so feverish so quickly. Maybe she was ill? This couldn't be normal, could it?
"Master, I… uh…"
Well, it was clearly an auspicious start to their conversation.
Sweet Circe, get it together, Hermione!
"Drop the formalities for a moment, please. It's just you and me, darling." Hermione groaned, plunking both elbows on the table in a manner she knew would typically upset her Master, but she didn't care. She let her head fall forward into her hands, cheeks still flushed in embarrassment, allowing her curls to swing forward and shield her face from view. A lump of emotion had formed at the back of her throat and she felt strangely queasy.
"Master... Dia… I honestly don't know what to tell you right now. I just…" Hermione trailed off, giving in to her own convoluted misery for the moment.
Merlin! Were those tears pricking the corners of her eyes? Honestly. She could barely call herself a Gryffindor at the moment. She was pathetic.
"Look at me, please?" It was a quiet request, but a request nonetheless. With just a hint of a demand behind it, Hermione had no choice but to lift her head and look at the woman sitting across from her.
Dual Master of Transfiguration and Potions - Fourth and Fifth Class respectively, Diamantina Kallas was a gorgeous witch, that much was certain.
She was a delicate woman with seemingly porcelain features - high, sweeping cheekbones, a small narrow nose, and a curly mane of ebony locks that spilled over narrow shoulders like a waterfall. Unapologetically Greek, Diamantina "Dia" wielded power through a combination of sensual grace and quiet, steely resolve. Though she was a bit shorter than Hermione, Dia could command an entire room with a tilt of her head, a softly worded demand, or understated demonstration of her vast reservoir of skills and knowledge. She was effortlessly collected, rarely ruffled, with a keen grasp of magic that routinely left Hermione in awe and later vexed, as she scrambled to replicate her Master's unique and subtle style.
At the moment, Dia's luminous seafoam eyes regarded Hermione with a hint of sympathy.
"Hermione, I apologize for springing such personal information upon you earlier. I honestly thought Minerva would have informed you in some way before you came to me, however I see that I was in error. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable."
Those pale turquoise eyes seemed impossibly large in the candlelight and for the umpteenth time since their previous conversation earlier in the day, Hermione found herself frantically backpedaling, grasping for composure, afraid her Master would pick up the thread of emotions coursing through their bond.
"Master Kall- Dia, I'm sorry. I'm not reacting well at all and I have no excuse… you just… shocked me, that's all. Prof - er… Minerva was - is - Gods! She is such a private person. I don't know why I assumed that she wouldn't have a personal life. Merlin, that's so stupid! I just didn't think… I mean… not that it's a bad thing or anything, I mean-"
"Hermione. You're babbling." Dia held up a delicate hand, her thin gold bracelets flashing brightly in the candlelight.
"Right." Hermione opened and closed her mouth before choosing to fall silent. It seemed that her cheeks were destined to remain on fire. It was completely unfair. Everything was going wrong and she was digging her own grave deeper and deeper. Bloody hell.
Master Kallas kept her face composed as she gave Hermione a long, searching look before reclining in her high-backed chair. Dark arms relaxed on both armrests gently and she took a moment to cross her legs demurely, deftly arranging folds of white linen to drape over her legs evenly. Even in the dim lighting, Hermione had to admire her Master's toned arms in her sleeveless summer robes. The witch was willowy and lean with a perpetually serene aura of satisfaction.
"I have a few things to say, darling."
Hermione waited, feeling an unfortunate swirl of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Master Kallas' use of the endearment no longer irked her as it had in months previous. It seemed the witch tacked the word on to almost everything. At first, Hermione had felt patronized by its usage, as though her Master were speaking to a young child. Now, she viewed the habit with a hint of envy as the elder witch tossed it out to friend and stranger alike as if she were an elegant movie star in an old black and white film.
It didn't feel far from the truth.
"I realize that, until now, our relationship has been strictly professional and as a result I do not actually know you very well," Master Kallas' musical voice was firmly entrenched in "lecture mode." Hermione perked up slightly at the familiar tone and she listened with a bit more fervor as the witch continued.
"The bond of Master and Apprentice allows me to feel the pulse of your energy, the tenure of your emotions, the distinctive ebb and flow of your magic as a means of helping you learn. As you are now discovering, it can be deeply intimate at times," she fixed Hermione with an opaque look and Hermione swallowed hard. "However the primary purpose of the bond has always been for ease of instruction, and in ancient times - for protection, as magical folk were frequently persecuted by Muggles who became suspicious of bonded pairs."
Hermione nodded dutifully wondering where she was going as none of the information was new to her by any means. Master Kallas tilted her head, gold earrings tinkling quietly.
"Today we moved into new territory and I felt... something new from you."
The familiar footing they had been sharing dropped away and Hermione's heart was in her throat. Don't ask me about it. Don't ask me about. Don't ask me about it.
"In fact it was remiss of me not to have noticed it earlier. Our conversation today stemmed from my wish to impart our shared history. It seemed only appropriate that you should know the lineage of your Mastery. Though you have read it in books, heard my stories, and viewed some of my memories, the intimacy of our journey together is vital to the success and direction of your advancement and to the disciplines themselves."
Master paused and reached out to grasp her wine glass as Hermione mulled over the witch's words.
"Why does the Wizarding world adhere to such an archaic tradition such as this, Hermione?"
Hermione felt a familiar thrum of anticipation in her chest. Her Master's question was worded softly and Hermione knew that she was about to walk into decidedly uncertain territory. Master Kallas had a way of asking questions that lead to a desired answer, usually in conjunction with some sort of unexpected yet salient epiphany.
"Because first-hand knowledge is key towards advancing in any given discipline as subjects become more refined and therefore more challenging. Not to mention the advantage of having personalized attention, a flexible course of study, and the opportunity to seek more information or clarifications as needed."
"What is first-hand knowledge, precisely?"
"Information or skills obtained through personal or direct experience."
"Could it not be argued that as magic and technology advance, knowledge becomes distilled generation by generation, growing clearer with each step? Why continue the tradition?"
Hermione paused, attempting to think of an elegant answer.
"I thought-" she began.
Uncharacteristically impatient, Master Kallas cut her off.
"Nuance, Hermione. As knowledge and magic are handed from generation to generation, each witch and wizard has the opportunity to distill and refine what is already known. However, the key factors in this ongoing process are each individual contribution. Each spell, incantation, wand, magical signature, magical core… it comes from a specific perspective. A person. A unique soul… being… body…" Master Kallas' voice was soothing, seductive even. Hermione found herself nodding, imagining the many lives that had come before her, a family tree unto itself - reaching backward in time, carrying the mystical secrets of their craft into the dark tunnels of history.
"An individual cannot be separated from their body nor their lived experience. This is vital, Hermione." Master Kallas leaned forward slightly, hand grasping the ends of her armrests as her light gaze held Hermione's own like a lifeline. "Our magic holds a direct correlation to the experience of living. To mourn a death, to love fiercely, to feel rage, betrayal, admiration, passion, ecstasy… these experiences are not inseparable from magic, rather they are tied to our own understanding of it. They paint our abilities with new colors, new feelings, sensations… they allow us to deepen our craft by ensnaring our powers in the tenuous and thready spaces between our own lives and the lives that have come before us."
"I… understand." And she did.
Somewhat.
It made sense that a rich life would lead to a more well-rounded grasp of magical craft. A Patronus required joyous memories in order to be conjured just as the Unforgivables required the necessary pain or anger as fuel for motivation. Without poignant experiences to draw from, it was reasonable to assume that some avenues of magic would remain inaccessible until lived experiences were obtained.
"As backwards and archaic as the Wizarding world can be, it can also be entirely democratic, liberal, and forward-thinking when addressing avenues of magical inquiry. The founders of Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, and Uagadou were all known for pushing the boundaries of accepted behaviors in their quest for the subtle distinctions and nuances in the many folds between disciplines. Passions have since become more refined… partially due to the implementation of the ISOS, however in contrast to the Muggle world where prejudices are still caught between layers of identity, you can see how witches and wizards are more accepting of individual needs and desires."
Hermione found herself nodding. The Wizarding world was truly a conglomeration of opposites. Just when she thought she understood its many disparate facets, another strange development or historical tidbit reared its head and she was once again cast to the edges of understanding. She wondered if pureblood families ever felt like this as they pored over their shared histories, or if was again the curse of the Muggle-born.
"So you can understand our earlier conversation?" The other witch's expression was difficult to read, but Hermione thought she might have been a bit fearful of Hermione's reaction.
Hell, she didn't even know if she understood her own reaction. Did she understand?
"Do all Masters sleep with their Apprentices?" The question was out before Hermione could stop herself, but Master Kallas simply smiled gently, cheeks dimpling slightly as she tucked her chin.
"No. It is not necessarily encouraged, however it is not uncommon." The elder witch paused, full lips slightly parted as if she were about to continue, but she merely folded her hands and waited. Hermione's mind was still struggling to catch up with the torrent of thoughts currently tumbling through her head.
Not encouraged but not uncommon.
What was the lesson in all of this? What was she supposed to take away?
She felt slow and stupid. Something about their line of conversation gave her the niggling feeling that she was missing a key ingredient to the equation. There was a flash of self-doubt and she found herself wondering if it truly was her Muggle upbringing working to her disadvantage as she struggled to read between the lines and grasp whatever it was that Master Kallas seemed to be hinting at. She understood that the Wizarding world took a liberal stance on sexuality. She didn't take issue with that, despite her own, more conservative Muggle upbringing. Perhaps her Master simply wanted her to put her at ease. But no, she had already apologized, hadn't she?
"Then… wha-?"
"Hermione, your attraction to me is as plain as the undeniably enchanting anxiety painting your features at the moment."
Oh.
Master Kallas' typically serene expression shifted into a wide smile as Hermione opened and closed her mouth to little avail, cheeks once again burning as she resisted the urge to palm her face. The other witch shifted, sitting forward in her chair to fix Hermione with a reassuring look.
"I am not asking for you to sleep with me, darling. I'm simply letting you know that I've discerned your feelings and that they are not unwelcome. In fact… I must admit that I am entirely flattered and you can be assured that they are reciprocated." Her Master's face broke into another sunny smile and Hermione felt her heart clench at the contrast between dark silky skin and her brilliantly white teeth.
Dimly, she thought that it was a smile her parents would kill to have participated in.
Wait… re-cip-ro-cated? Her mind was moving with all the speed of a drowsy flobberworm.
This time, Master Kallas actually laughed as Hermione's face undoubtedly transformed into shock at finally absorbing the message. She was destined to wear her heart on her sleeve. How hopelessly Gryffindor. The other witch tipped her head back and finished off her glass of wine, planting it firmly on the table before rising in a smooth, unhurried movement. She gazed down at Hermione with a soft expression and Hermione felt a flutter of anticipation in her stomach.
"You are a beautiful woman, Hermione. But more than that, you are a compelling witch. Brilliant, selfless, motivated, curious. I can see why Minerva thinks highly of you and why she sent you to me. We both share a… discerning taste." Flashing a mysterious smile, Master Kallas waved a hand over the table and vanished the remaining plates except for Hermione's glass of wine.
Fixing her with a more opaque look, the witch drew herself upwards and Hermione knew that her Master had returned. The intimate nature of their conversation had passed.
"I am going to retire for the evening and leave you to your thoughts. Tomorrow morning I have business in Thessaloniki. In light of today's lesson, I suggest you take the morning to relax… perhaps venture into town or visit Kato Koufonisi if you would like to be alone. I will return around six to join you for an early dinner."
Hermione nodded numbly, rising to bid her Master goodnight. Rather than their customary light hug and double kiss, Master Kallas simply looked at her for a long moment, before trailing a hand along the back of her chair and moving away toward the house.
"Goodnight, darling," she murmured.
"Goodnight, Master."
Hermione waited until soft footsteps retreated inside before slumping back into her chair. Master Kallas was a stickler for etiquette and propriety, perhaps even surpassing Minerva McGonagall in her demand for decorum.
Professor McGonagall.
The thought of her former mentor flooded her with embarrassment again and she promptly reached for her glass and drained the rest of her wine in one go. Good Godric!
Hermione sat for a moment, staring up into the now-dark night sky that was alight with stars. Her Master's words seemed to echo in her mind… I was entirely flattered… Not encouraged, but not uncommon… We both share a… discerning taste…
She groaned aloud and scrubbed her face in her hands before settling in to think about the facts that had been presented before her.
She was undeniably attracted to her Master. Indisputably, feverishly, lustfully attracted.
Merlin...
Her attraction was reciprocated. Sweet Salazar!
All evidence pointed to the fact that a… relationship? Liaison? Fling? A whatever with her Master would only deepen her magical skills. Hence the lecture on living life to the fullest or what have you…
Hermione chewed her bottom lip.
What if it doesn't work out? What if she hates you? What if you're terrible in bed?
The fact of the matter was that Hermione Granger had never been with a woman. She barely counted her fumblings with Ron as actual sexual experience, and beyond their few stymied attempts to meet in the weeks after the final battle, there had been no one else. Despite her best intentions and genuine efforts, their short-lived trysts had largely been one-sided and unsatisfying.
Years of sexual tension had fizzled out after a few sweaty, uncomfortable, and entirely lacking encounters that presented Hermione with a startling reality check; Ron Weasley was simply not destined be her match and there was no helping the utterly insurmountable chasm of differences between them that certainly weren't going to be solved by five-minute meetings involving inelegant grunting and some useless humping.
Groaning again, Hermione stood and walked a short ways away from the table where she could look out over the seaside path and toward the rocks below. Her break-up with Ron had actually proceeded with significantly less fireworks than she had imagined. They parted amicably in the summer after the final battle with the heartfelt promise to stay in touch as he and Harry jettisoned off to join the Auror Academy and she departed to Hogwarts to sit her N.E.W.T.S. after a month of self-study.
Hermione sighed and moved to sit on a low rocky ledge that heralded the start of the path. She had earned eleven O's, nine of which were perfect scores. Several Ministry officials had been called in to verify her exams. It was a feat unmatched by anyone, she had been told.
Even Albus Dumbledore.
The rush of excitement that had flooded through her at that achievement was quickly eclipsed by the startling realization that she had no idea what to do next in life. There had been an unfortunate week of listless meandering through the Restricted section in the library before she had been rescued by Professor McGonagall. The elder witch had promptly dragged a protesting Hermione to her office where Hermione had engaged in a brief but ugly meltdown that eventually provided her with the dawning realization that continuing education was a very real thing that one could pursue in the Wizarding world.
And just like that, she had been off again - devouring Minerva's heavy tomes on the histories of Mastery Societies, Minerva's own stories from both her studies and the apprentices she had trained, and consulting a few other professors regarding their own experiences, many of whom she was surprised to discover were still leading experts in their respective fields.
Minerva?
Now where had that thought come from?
Hermione blushed for what felt like the hundredth time that evening as her inner monologue betrayed her yet again. Despite her kind overtures in the aftermath of the war and her undeniably helpful guidance while Hermione had scrambled for purpose, Professor McGonagall had never given her permission to use her first name. While Hermione suspected that the now-Headmistress wouldn't be entirely adverse to the change, it was clearly a gesture that had to be given, not assumed.
The rules of Mastery differed from discipline to discipline and Hermione had been incensed by how little information was available regarding qualifications and advancement. Professor McGonagall had explained that each discipline was sworn to secrecy - the knowledge of each Master passing on to others through a combination of selective study, oral tradition, and other methods that she refused to elucidate.
Hermione had been intensely curious, withholding her questions only when the Headmistress explained that each discipline bound its Masters to confidentiality at penalty of death. Naturally, there were public forums to discuss research and advancements and to disseminate relevant knowledge. But the truly avant-garde forays into new territories were known only to Masters within each given classification. The higher the classification, the more daring the research.
Hermione had asked after Professor McGonagall's own classification, in which she promptly received her first lesson in Mastery etiquette: If you had to ask, you clearly had no business in engaging with the witch or wizard in question as it was quite a rude query unless one was some sort of Ministry official or asking a colleague for assistance on an interdisciplinary project (Hermione had been appropriately mortified).
However, her mentor had kindly intimated that she was a proficient witch indeed, and that perhaps someday they would meet again as collaborators.
Zing! She had practically heard the arrow strike home, and with that, Professor McGonagall had effortlessly planted a goal in Hermione's heart that would continue to burn brightly long after she had left her office.
Hermione had taken all of two days to research Mastery options before returning to her former Head of House with a list of potential Masters and the polite but pressing request for a letter of recommendation. She had briefly entertained the notion of asking to apprentice under McGonagall herself, however she dismissed the idea in realizing that she needed a taste of the world beyond Hogwarts and to take a step outside of her comfort zone.
She remembered Professor McGonagall's deceptively calm expression as she had accepted Hermione's proffered parchment with the list of witches and wizards she had decided were her top choices of potential Masters. Hermione had waited, fingers drumming on the tops of both knees nervously as Professor McGonagall scanned the list silently, the only sound echoing through the office a rhythmic ticking from an antique grandfather clock in one corner of the room.
She had tried to avoid looking up at the many portraits circling them overhead, namely one with a shock of silver and a twinkle of blue. Several were feigning sleep, though a few she had noticed, were attempting to read over Professor McGonagall's shoulder.
After what seemed like a long while, during which Hermione had already mentally prepared herself to receive the professor's fury of her presumption, pity at Hermione's complete lack of qualifications, or abrupt dismissal, the other witch had sat back and fixed her with a piercing emerald gaze.
"You are certain, Miss Granger, that this is what you truly desire?"
It was not the question she had expected, but a fair one.
"Yes. I feel an affinity for both disciplines. They challenge me in different ways but I am certain I could spend my life delving deeper into one or the either. Ideally, I would choose both."
It was an honest, heartfelt answer if somewhat simple, but apparently it was the one that Professor McGonagall had been searching for.
A smile had spread itself slowly over her usually impassive features and she had shaken her head and chuckled, removing her spectacles and glancing over Hermione's list again with a bemused expression.
All at once, Hermione's perception of Minerva McGonagall had changed.
Gone was her formidable Head of House, her stern Transfiguration professor, the venerable Headmistress of Hogwarts. It was as though a veil had been lifted before her and Hermione's pulse had raced, her breath catching as she suddenly realized the mentor she had admired for close to six years had been replaced by a stunningly beautiful witch.
Without her glasses and with a genuine smile gracing her features, Professor McGonagall was a woman of timeless beauty.
Mentally, Hermione had traced the soft ivory skin and the high, chiseled cheekbones with a fresh sense of awe; rosy lips that she had always perceived to be thin were actually quite full as they framed a set of even, white teeth. Hermione had felt as though she were floating and her thoughts swam as her gaze traveled over a sheen of tightly bound black hair that looked silky in the mid-morning sunshine. But her eyes. Hermione had nearly leaned forward and tumbled off her chair to catch the elegant sweeping brows set above long, thick lashes that framed those brilliant, perceptive emerald eyes that were staring directly- Shit.
Professor McGonagall had regarded her with a quizzical expression and Hermione had flushed, asking her to repeat her question.
Yes, it was her hope to pursue both courses of study at once.
"Miss Granger, while it is highly uncommon to pursue two masteries at the same time, I see you have deduced that there are four such candidates within Europe who would meet your qualifications for a dual apprenticeship in both Transfiguration and Potions. The other option would be, of course, to pursue them separately in succession." Hermione had nodded, ignoring the spike in murmurs of the portraits overhead.
"I suggest these two. Mistress Trenowyth is a good friend of mine with a keen eye for research. We both had the honor of apprenticing under Master Sacheverell. She currently resides in Brussels and earned her Potions Mastery under Master Strangewayes, who consequently taught our own Master Snape. Master Kallas studied under myself as well as Master Abraham in northern Egypt... a nice blend of styles if I do say so myself. I believe the Potions Mastery was earned from Mistress Cunningham, an American witch who is now a Professor Emerita of Ilvermorny."
"Are they not both witches, Professor?" Unexpectedly, Professor McGonagall chuckled.
"Master Kallas has elected to take the title of Master in protest of gender inequalities still prevalent throughout our world. The salutation is of little consequence as she is a talented and... discerning witch regardless."
Something in Professor McGonagall's careful explanation caught Hermione's attention and she had felt an unexpected pang of envy. To be described as talented and discerning by Minerva McGonagall… Well… It seemed as though her decision had been made for her, though Hermione fully intended to send out at least five letters just in case.
"Professor, thank you so much for your assistance. It has truly been a privilege. I... " Here she had paused, wondering if she would come across as sounding too presumptuous, "I look forward to seeing you again… perhaps, one day, as colleagues."
The brilliant smile she earned in response had erased any doubts.
The memory still filled her with an undefinable warmth and Hermione smiled to herself as she finally made her way back towards the white walls of the villa. The thick adobe fairly glowed in the starlight and she waved a hand to extinguish the last lights of the candles from dinner and vanishing her wine glass back to the kitchen.
Opening the blue door quietly so as not to wake her Master, Hermione felt a strange surge of disbelief in realizing that she had actually made it to the very witch whose name she had chosen almost at random from her list of potential Masters.
Well, not entirely random…
With a jolt, she recalled Professor McGonagall's strange phrasing - talented and discerning… And suddenly her master's musical accent overlapping the Scottish lilt - we both share a discerning taste...
Hermione froze. The magical world had taught her that there were rarely such things as coincidences. That had to be innuendo. Sweet Merlin. Professor McGonagall herself had even alluded to her previous… whatever. The conversation with her Master came flooding back. At once, a strange ripple passed over her skin giving her goosebumps and the faint impression of amusement.
Oh.
The bond.
Just when she thought she couldn't possibly tolerate any more embarrassment. Hermione cast an anxious glance down the darkened hallway toward the other end of the villa where her Master's private chambers resided, but it seemed Master Kallas was content to let her be for now. It was time for bed. That was quite enough thoughts for one day.
A short time later, when she sighed in appreciation as her flushed skin met cool sheets, Hermione cast one more sleepy glance over the available facts.
She was undeniably attracted to her Master. Check.
Her attraction was returned. Check.
She was most decidedly going to pursue said avenue of attraction. (Why say 'no' when there was the added bonus of deepening her magical abilities?) Double check.
Her Master… Dia was a lesbian. Mmmm...
Here, Hermione felt a dark thrill as she recalled her Master Kallas' recount of her own rich, "lived experiences." The older witch had not gone into sordid details by any means. It had been a matter-of-fact discussion, as simple as discussing the weather, and yet Hermione had latched onto her words like a lifeline. For as Master Kallas had explained her early forays and experiences of coming to terms her burgeoning lesbian identity, Hermione had privately felt as though the other woman were unraveling her own innermost thoughts and desires with uncanny precision.
And then - Hermione's eyes flew open, staring blankly at the dark ceiling, and she was suddenly wide awake, her body aflame with desire as she recalled her Master's words…
"Minerva was the first to truly open my eyes to the joy and potential of life as a lesbian. As skillful and talented as she is as a teacher, you can also imagine is true of her expertise as a lover. She taught me about the importance of anticipation, passion, abandonment, freeing one's primal energies in order to tap into - Hermione, are you well?"
Their discussion had ended abruptly when the name Minerva had finally connected itself between the misfiring neurons in Hermione's brain. Her Master had been shocked by her surprise and somewhat flustered after Hermione briefly explained how little she actually knew of Professor McGonagall beyond Hogwarts. Master Kallas simply could not believe that Professor McGonagall would have sent Hermione to Naxos without an abridged summary of her own apprenticeship and a few clues as to the nature of relationships and bonds between a Master and Apprentice.
Meanwhile, Hermione was shell-shocked by the realization that the two witches she revered most had moved beyond the professional realm and that they knew each other far more intimately than Hermione could ever imagine. Master Kallas dismissed Hermione after it became apparent that neither of them quite knew how to recover from the conversation - retreating into her study, while Hermione had quickly run off to get some fresh air…
Her heart was thumping loudly as she suddenly imagined her Master and Professor McGonagall in circumstances that mirrored her current situation… the Headmistress patiently instructing her Master in theory and spellwork, heads bowed together over ancient texts, sipping tea in the evenings, rising early in the morning to train…
Hermione fairly groaned at imagining both beautiful witches in skimpy exercise attire, flushed from exertion…
Later returning to darkened chambers, whispering soft endearments to each other, as Minerva patiently enveloped Dia's lithe brown form in a passionate embrace...
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and willed her heartbeat to return to acceptable resting levels. There was no discernible change in her mind or body which hopefully suggested that her Master had fallen asleep and was blissfully unaware of her mounting desire.
The facts were clear.
Minerva McGonagall had willingly instructed Diamantina Kallas in the art of lesbian lovemaking as part of her Transfiguration Apprenticeship. (And they both had apparently enjoyed it immensely if it was memorable enough to mention in polite conversation decades later, however obscurely covered).
Hermione's heart clenched and she willed her feelings to sink deeply, towards the pit of her stomach. It's just a crush. It's just a crush. You want Master Kallas. Master Kallas is here...
But the final fact of the matter was that Hermione Granger had a new goal, pinned deep beneath layers of rational thought, right alongside the goal that eventually saw her returning to greet her esteemed professor as a colleague…
Hermione Granger would bide her time and patiently await the seduction of Minerva McGonagall.
She was also a discerning witch after all.
A/N: This arose out of a different work-in-progress that I have yet to upload... and somewhere along the way I found the idea of a Hermione/Minerva pairing strangely fitting as I have long harbored a love for both intelligent women. It seemed appropriate to explore a credible version of said pairing and to give myself the challenge of creating a world in which they could eventually find each other as equals.
We will eventually see the familiar tried and true characters along the way: Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Rolanda Hooch, Molly & Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and several others - all Harry Potter characters and concepts with in the 'verse belong to J.K. Rowling, while this story and a few original characters/ideas come from my imagination and belong to me.
It will take time for the entire tale to develop and prepare yourself for a long arc in regards to the HG/MM storyline. Please keep in mind that as the story progresses, adult themes will crop up, the least of which will include same sex pairings.
Overall, it will follow the canon through the books, minus the last chapter/epilogue of Book 7. I've tried to take details from Pottermore whenever possible, and I do derive great joy from taking time to research places, ideas, concepts, so do not anticipate quick updates. I apologize to the more voracious readers for sporadic breaks - my personal life and work do not adhere to a 9 to 5 schedule and some weeks may be more prolific than others.
Thank you in advance for your feedback - this is my second attempt at fanfic and first upload, so I look forward to any comments/critiques should you feel so inclined. :)