[ Does Hermione understand what being a Master means? No, she doesn't; she doesn't recognise what the relationship between Dorian and Gilgamesh is, beyond the power they share and the connection that goes far deeper than anything she could possibly hope to imagine. She doesn't know what it means other than the information that she has. It's not enough to grasp the full meaning of what he's saying, of what he means when he tells her that she would have stepped into Dorian's shoes, but she knows that it means something, something important.

The idea of being his Master is a little ridiculous to her, really. She knows about Servants and she knows that they're powerful but there's something they need from their Masters to help; what could she offer him that he doesn't already have? He's so strong, so much braver than she is, and he has power that she can't wrap her mind around. She isn't sure she would be any kind of decent Master to him, other than taking care of him or looking after him. She'd be good to him, she supposes, which - well, Dorian must be too.

When his finger runs over her hand, though, she breathes out, a hesitating little noise, something innocent that feels so intimate. She knows what he's tracing and it's the same thing she knows Dorian has; it's the Seal, the power, something she still doesn't know enough about. Leaning forward, slow, careful, she kisses the top of his head - the same thing she does for Harry, for Ron, for Remus and Dorian. It's friendship and it burns inside of her. ]

I don't think I'd have been the kind of Master you need or want, Gilgamesh, but it's a lovely thought.

[ She breathes out, closing her eyes and nodding, her chest a little tight. Would she call on him? She's not sure. Could she? Perhaps, if the worst comes and she had no fight left. ]

Thank you. You don't know what that means to me.