Author's Note

Totally wrote this because I'm suffering writer's block on my other story. Not that I don't think it's an amazing idea, because (let's face it) it is. Also, I didn't have a beta for this fic, so please let me know if you see any errors.

Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the wizarding world of Harry Potter is mine.

~ Refictionista, March 8, 2015

§ DONUM SCIENTIAE §
a gift for learning

He nearly spat out his wine. "You are the praeceptor recommended by Severus Maximus Snappa?"[1]

"Is there a problem, Senator Malafides?" the Greek slave asked mildly, unsurprised at the arrogant Roman's astonishment.

"Honestly, yes. My son needs a tutor to teach him speech, law and gravitas... amongst other things.[2]" The senator ran a hand through his unusual mane of hair. It was said that Jupiter himself had cast a lightning bolt on one of his long forgotten ancestors, forever cursing the Malafides family with shockingly pale blonde hair. It was one of many things that made him stand out from the typical Roman citizen. "A female both young and beautiful is usually employed to instruct a boy in an entirely... less academic branch of learning." He ran an appraising eye up and down her form, hardly hidden by the tunic of a typical slave.

The young woman had none of the typical subservience of other slaves; she did not back down. "Would it help me to be better prepared for the challenge of your son's education if I was old and hideous? I assure you that beyond these faults you see, my recommendation has true merit." She paused. "I was told your son had remarkable ingenium, and that you wanted no less than the best in these regards." She gave him a knowing look.

Draconis Aurelius Malafides tried to make no indication that he understood her meaning, but he sat up straighter and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes, young Scorpius has an inborn 'gift' for learning. The point remains that I fail to see how you would be qualified in such regard."

The young woman glanced behind her at the Praetorian Guard standing next to the columns that lead to the atrium. Then she looked back at him and said nothing.

He leaned forward on his solium, tapping a finger on his chin in thought.[3] "Come here," he finally ordered, apparently having decided something. She walked forward, her woven sandals making quiet shuffling sounds that echoed loudly over the marble floors. "Sit on my lap." His tone was benign but absolute.

She hesitated. When his gray eyes darkened and he clenched his jaw, she nodded and sat primly on his lap. He shoved a hand roughly under the high slit of her tunic, causing her to gasp. Then she froze. However, he made no move to get underneath her tunica, his hand moving back and forth leisurely between the two layers of fabric. He was not actually pressing down, he hovered an inch above the inner garment, never actually touching her... though to anyone else it would seem that was doing just that, and so she then slowly relaxed somewhat.

He suddenly glared at the bodyguards stationed nearby. "Leave us!" he snapped. They bowed and left the chambers immediately.

Once they were alone in the tabulinum, she began to move off him.[4]

"No," he hissed quietly. "You will remain where you are. Always remember while you are here in this villa that the walls have ears and the doorways have eyes." She nodded in understanding, though visibly not pleased that he had yet to remove his hand from underneath her outer garment. "What is your name?" he whispered.

"Hermione of Gkrantes," she answered.

"Tell me, Hermione. Why does my old mentor think you suitable?"

"I come here directly from the temple school of Hogyrotoli, where I studied under Minerva of Megalonisi. As you may know, she works closely with Snappa. I believe she told him I was her favorite and most promising student when he asked her for a recommendation." Her tone of voice was not haughty, but she held her chin up regally, betraying her pride in those words.

He blinked. He stared at her incredulously and whispered, "Minerva of... she is the most powerful thaumaturge of the empire."

The smile she gave him at that statement made it seem that he had given her that praise in her teacher's stead. "Indeed she is, senator. We are in agreement."

Still, her explanation did not make sense to Draconis. Before him was a young, beautiful and apparently very talented sorceress, if Severus and Minerva were to be believed. "How is it that you are a slave?" he asked, unable to hide his suspicion.

She tensed on his lap but had already expected this question. "Such things happen when one is not born into a family of mages," she responded quietly.

Wide-eyed, he leaned back. He almost didn't respond, but when he finally did it was as if the air was being wheezed out from his lungs. "You're a Muggelia," he whispered.[5]

"No," she replied stiffly. "I am not a Muggelia. I have as much magical power and talent as that of you and yours! I was merely born into a mundanus family."[6]

The hand previously hovering indifferently between the two layers of her clothing suddenly gripped her forcefully under her breast, squeezing hard and making her wince in fear. He leaned forward and nuzzled his face into her ear. "I have many enemies. Do not make me remind you of how this villa is always under observation. You will keep your voice down, and you will never again refer to any power I wield other than political. In the future should you make any such claim about my son, I will kill you."

She lowered her head. "Forgive me, senator. It will not happen again."

"Indeed. We are in agreement," he said, echoing her previous words. He smiled at her and she smiled back nervously. The senator pushed the simple and inexpensive palla from her head. A single curly strand of hair had escaped from her braid. He tucked it behind her ear, causing her to shiver.

"I did not mean to frighten you," he said gently, "but it important you remember my warning. Were my wife still alive, she could easily tutor our son without suspicion. If I am to trust you, then you must not allow any hint to give away the abilities of our kind. Scorpius has the potential to be a great mage, which is why I need an exceptionally talented praeceptor to tutor him. If your abilities are as Severus claims, then you will do nicely as a member of my household staff and teach my son well... perhaps even better than my beloved Astoria ever could have dreamed."

"I would be honored, senator."

"Call me Draconis."

She was about to ask why when she felt the thumb of the hand below her breast graze the peak of her nipple. Hermione felt warmth travel down her center.

"I meant what I said, you are beautiful. Very beautiful." His thumb drew lazy circles on the side of her breast, but he did nothing more. Hermione waited. When he still didn't move, Hermione leaned forward and kissed him. Softly. Just once.

The strength of their individual magics coming into contact through their lips created fireworks in her mind. Barely able to breathe around her hammering heart, Hermione drew back enough for warm air to slip between them, a resigned sigh brushing against her mouth.

Then he was pulling her toward him and bundling her up in his arms. Hermione gasped as Draconis tugged at the bindings of her braid with his other hand. Her hair tumbled down, and he buried his fingers into her mess of curls and kissed her back.

The haughty Roman senator kissed the lowborn Greek slave fully and deeply, his tongue probing her mouth hungrily. Hermione knew that the kiss only lasted seconds, but it felt longer. Like somehow time had stood still, her blundering mind later registering several minutes having passed by the time he broke contact. He stopped suddenly. She opened her eyes, a square of moonlight falling in through the compluvium above, illuminating his face as it became pained.

"Hermione," he said, her name sounding like a prayer. His eyes were closed and he wrinkled his forehead near his brow line. "I have never forced myself upon an unwilling woman. My position of power is never to be questioned, so I have never given wanton attention to any of the household slaves in my employ. I am wise enough to know that being unable to say no to one's master is the same as being forced. But... if we keep doing this much longer, then I don't know if—"

She pulled her leg out, straddling him over his lap, aware of a growing bulge. Hermione shrugged off her tunic from the waist up and straightened the tunica that was underneath. She wrapped her arms around his neck, the skin on her forearms brushing against his white blonde hair, every bit as soft to the touch as it had looked. "Then consider the choice mine," she said, smiling gently. "Though I am a slave, I am powerful enough to hex any master who force themselves upon me that way. However, unlike another master... I like the taste of your magic; it is unlike anything I've known." Draconis opened his eyes and squinted at her like he was trying to figure out a strategy for a battle. She leaned back, one hand on his chest and the other fiddling with the folds of the toga thrown over his shoulder. She paused, staring back and focusing on his pale eyelashes, her pulse pounding in her fingertip against the purple border of the fabric.

He pushed her hand away from him, slowly rubbing her wrist with the rough pad of his thumb, almost as if taking her pulse. She stilled her movements, hoping he would kiss her again.

"Say you want me," Draconis whispered heedlessly. Perhaps even begging.

"I want you," Hermione responded without hesitation. She meant it. Her whole body was throbbing, growing in intensity from a fluttering warmth behind her navel.

His unnaturally gray eyes visibly changed and turned black.

Then the senator growled.

It was a primal sound that vibrated from his chest, held low in the deep of his throat. Animalistic. Predatory. Totally unlike what should come from a civilized citizen of Rome. Before she could shudder in fear, he brought his mouth up to the base of her neck, the movement so fast it blurred. She released a feminine moan, "oh, Draconis." He stood, picking her up by her thighs and carrying her over to a nearby couch.

He broke off contact to lean forward and remove his toga. Standing in front of him, Hermione reached her other hand down toward him, leaving it on his muscular chest and brushing her thumb over one of his many scars. "Sectumsempra curse," he said absently. His hands then moved down her arms and slide over her lower back.

He paused at the bottom of her tunica, his hand bunching the fabric while his knuckles grazed her exposed skin. "Take this off."

She complied, throwing the tunica over near where her tunic had landed earlier. He sat on the couch and pulled her on top of him. Draconis stared appreciatively at the bronze clepsammia that hung between her breasts.[7] Hermione held her breath.

"That too."

The moment after she had unclasped the chain and had removed it from around her neck, Draconis snaked his arm around her waist and abruptly flipped them over so that he was on top. He shifted one leg between hers, where her heat was pooling. The pressure of his thigh against her nearly made her mind explode. He captured her mouth with his again, pulling his arm out from beneath her. He brought the hand up her chest and toyed with her breast. She moaned again.

He squeezed the mound and then lightly flicked the nipple. She gasped beneath his mouth, and she could feel him smiling. Hermione ran her nails down his back.

He moaned appreciatively and began trailing kisses down her neck and chest. He continued to do even more amazing things with his tongue and teeth. After she felt it could get no more mind-blowing, he then pressed a hungry kiss between her legs, his breath warm and wet near her swollen bud. His tongue peeked out for a taste. She gripped his hair tightly, her hands fisting over his head. He ran a finger along her folds, then gently began prodding her entrance. He stilled in surprise when he encountered her barrier.

She didn't notice, being too far into the throws of bliss. "By the gods of Olympus," she exclaimed. A river started flowing between her thighs. She wanted release. She needed release.

"Let go, Hermione," he murmured, torturing her skillfully with his tongue and fingers. Within a minute, she then did just as he commanded. Her eyes rolled back and her vision blurred into a universe of hot white dots.

He hungrily lapped up her juices. Her mind ceased functioning with absolute ecstasy. She cried out his name and collapsed in a spent heap.

He smiled down at the Greek slave girl dazed and limp on the couch beneath him. The power of her magic he had felt with that first kiss still lingered over their combined auras, though he could have suspected as much knowing she was the prized pupil of the famed Minerva of Megalonisi. Her untouched status was a pleasant surprise. His grin grew predatory as he schemed about using her purity to his advantage. She could be more than just a tutor to his son. He could marry her and have more sons, perhaps the most powerful offspring ever produced for the Malafides lineage.

Yes, that is exactly what he would do.

Two weeks prior
Inner Temple Chambers, Hogyrotoli School of Thaumaturge and Sorcery

"Tell me Minerva, what exactly do you wish to accomplish?" Snappa's image wavered in the fire's shimmering green glow.

The old sorceress straightened her shoulders. "I should think that would be obvious."

"She is of low-birth."

"She is the brightest witch of our age. I have never before met her equal, not once."

"More talented than yourself?" he scoffed.

Shadows from the green flames of the Flooious gave her expression a truly intimidating appearance. "By far, Severus."

The face in the fire remained unconvinced; his lips curled in a disapproving sneer.

The headmistress tapped her wand in her hand, pacing back and forth once more. "I have been planning this for years, ever since the death of the Lady Astoria. I've known his son will need a tutor for some time now, and now that he is of age to be educated... well, she's perfect for the task."

"I don't question her suitability to the task. It's your additional ambitions for her that might reach too far. However, far be it for me to go against your wishes. I'll pass along your recommendation."

"Thank you, Severus. It has been a pleasure, as always."

The face of Rome's most intimidating mystical adviser rolled his eyes and faded in a puff of green ash as the flames died down. The most illustrious sorceress in the empire smirked as the light faded.

"Your friend Snappa seemed to strongly disapprove of my parentage," said a lilting voice beyond the view of the Flooious. "His influence carries weight with the mages in Rome. Not having his full support could be a problem if I don't immediately catch the senator's interest beyond my role to his son."

The old headmistress turned to the alcove behind her. "Courage, my dear. Succeed and you will change your future and rise to a status that few currently above you ever dream, one that no mage in Rome would dare question. I trust that when you arrive, you will use the situation to your advantage."

"You have been the best of teachers, so I will do you proud. It will be an honor to tutor the senator's son." The beautiful young woman in the tunic of a slave stepped out of the shadows and smiled at her mentor, raising an eyebrow. "Should I be lucky enough to ascend in standing beyond my birth, then it will be owed entirely to your tutelage."

"You always did have a gift for learning, Hermione."

§

[1] Praeceptor is Latin for tutor.

[2] Gravitas was one of the Roman virtues. It may be translated variously as weight, seriousness and dignity, also importance, and connotes a certain substance or depth of personality.

[3] The Latin solium is considered to be equivalent to the Greek term thronos and thus is often translated as throne. These were like modern chairs, with backs and arm rests.

[4] The tablinum in a Roman house was between the atrium and the peristyle. It was an office of sorts for the dominus, or owner of the home, where he would receive his clients. The dominus was able to command the house visually from this vantage point as the head of the social authority of the paterfamilias.

[5] Muggelia was suggested by user Honoria Granger as the feminine for Muggelus (though I tweaked her proposed spelling slightly). Thanks so much!

[6] Mundanus is Latin for mundane... the best I could come up with for non-magical (as not-magical would be translated to non-magica, which would look like a misspelling... that simply wouldn't do).

[7] The origin of the hourglass is unclear, although unlike its predecessor the clepsydra, or water clock, which may have been invented in ancient Egypt. The clepsammia or sand-glass was invented at Alexandria about 150 BC.