Self-defense, admittedly, was not one of Akiva's strong suits.  It was, for the most part, something she had only ever thought she would need maybe once in her entire life, and many, many years ago. There had, up until recently, been no reason for anyone to approach her.  Blood purity wasn't perfect, but it wasn't being charted by the ministry anymore, and it didn't technically prohibit anyone from anything.  There were problems, naturally, but it wasn't what a younger version of herself had lived through.  Now, however, she was painfully aware of the way the world could twist what you previously thought into a horrible reality. 

Akiva's reality was she was married to a man with a controversial present and a past that was shrouded in mystery, or had been, and fraught with an equal, if not greater, amount of controversy.  And for that, Akiva needed to be prepared. 

So, Raizel was making a permanent place in her life.  It wasn't exactly one Akiva asked for, but she created it for herself, and Dreogan seemed warm to the idea, probably because he did not have the heart to push her like Raizel did.  The woman had good intentions, or at least Akiva credited her with them, but she was tough, and certainly unrelenting.  She was learning, at the very least, and Akiva had figured her out, to some degree.  Her personality was abrasive, for sure, but she was just bullheaded.  Thankfully, Akiva was the wife of a diplomat, who, had circumstances in life treated her differently, might have been somewhere similar.  It was difficult, sometimes, particularly when she was having a bad day, and her pregnancy was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. 

But, she did what she had to do, because if she didn't, it could mean her, or the baby.  Well, actually, she was getting used to thinking of the baby as a boy, and she and Dree were close to names - she could feel it, but they hadn't exactly come to an agreement yet.  It was almost there though, she just knew.  It was at least something getting her through these lessons. 

Akiva was starving, as the lesson finished up, and she rubbed her lower back, sighing with a long, drawn out stretch.  Raizel usually didn't stay very long after they finished, but Akiva always offered to feed her, because it was the right thing to do, and she was going to eat anyway, so today it was no different. 

With her hair pulled up, over-sized t-shirt, and comfortable pants, Akiva was going to make dinner and not care what she looked like.  It seemed like that feeling bubbled in her chest more and more recently, and resulted in the look she was sporting now, at least on weekends.

"You know, I'm making lamb for dinner," Akiva smiled, having started the prep the previous day, "so you should stay.  It's the least I could do," she played with her bracelets, "since you've been helping me and if you're still staying in that hotel room," truth be told, she actually didn't know if she was staying there, immediately making Akiva feel guilty that she hadn't been a better hostess and made offers before.  But, that wasn't the point, here she was now, doing something she could, "I'm sure you could use a home cooked meal." 

It was a low, manipulative thing - using home cooked, home country food, but it was just about as devious as Akiva got, and it tended to work, at least from her experience. 

Her sessions with Akiva were not in any way, shape, or form anything close to true self defense.  With the other woman in her several-months-pregnant state, not even Raizel would have dared to practice throws, grappling, or actual wrestling.  But situational awareness, breaking grips, basic spells -- that they could do.  Dreogan (with, Raizel suspected, Adon's quiet support) had tacitly given his okay for the lessons to continue, provided she did not attempt anything physical.

And so she hadn't.  That wasn't the point.  Raizel had no intention of trying to turn the former librarian into someone who could win a duel against a dark wizard.  But marrying into the Eleor family meant that Akiva needed to be able to do more than passively stand by if she were targeted.  With any luck -- and with their twice-weekly training sessions -- she could build enough skills that she wouldn't need to rely on her husband to keep her safe.

The practice sessions were going moderately well, but that didn't mean that Raizel had any intent of becoming friendly.  This had never been personal; she had never intended for it to turn into any sort of friendship.  If the Cursebreaker were to be honest about it, she had taken on Akiva Eleor as a charity case; more out of loyalty to Adon than because she actually cared about his brother's wife. 

But Akiva, true to form, had yet to pick up on that.  Each and every self defense practice ended with an invitation to dinner; each and every time, Raizel declined with a grunt and a wave of her hand.  She didn't have any intention of getting involved in Dreogan and Akiva Eleor's personal lives, more than she wanted them to get involved in hers.  They didn't need to know anything of her life or how she was doing, aside from what became necessary through their mutual shared interests.  Everything else was private.

The day's lesson had ended, the expected invitation had come, but this time, more appealing details had been thrown into the pot.  Yes, she missed real food.  The hotel room was lonely.  If it hadn't been for the few connections she had here in London, she wouldn't have been able to stand it.  But that was not reason to accept the unwanted hospitality. 

She grunted and gave a gruff shrug.  "No, I'm not --" she started to say, giving a dismissive wave of her hand to deny any pangs of hunger, when her stomach gave her away by rumbling loudly.

Raizel sighed and looked unhappily toward the door.  It wasn't the weekend, which meant she had nowhere to be.  Getting some sort of British take out on her way back to the hotel did not sound appealing.  Surely one accepted dinner invitation would not make anyone think that she was interested in becoming socially involved with the other Eleors.  After all, she wasn't getting paid for her time here; getting food out of the deal was the least that she was owed.

"Maybe," she allowed, clearly reluctant.  "Maybe.  Just this once."  She leveled a hard look at Akiva Eleor, just in case she might think that this one minute personal failing was sign of greater weakness.  "But I cannot stay late," she said sternly.  "I have -- places to be."

Perhaps it was a fluke that Raizel's hunger betrayed her this time, but Akiva had honestly not expected to get an answer in the affirmative.  She hadn't before, and she couldn't ever expect to, really, but that did not stop her.  This was her home, and she was expected to be hospitable in it.  If it hadn't been a friend of Adon's (or something along those lines - it was very murky, in a word), she might not have, but she felt compelled by association and gratitude.

Raizel didn't have to do this for her.  She didn't have to spend her time after work coming and teaching her things - things she time and time again reminded Akiva she should probably already know.  But, she did it anyway, and she deserved some kind of compensation. 

It wasn't as though Akiva was going to start inviting her over for tea and biscuits or anything.  They were relatively the same age, but in completely different planes of existence.  Akiva was married with a baby on the way, her entire life prepared her to grow up at seventeen years old when she dropped out of school.  But, that didn't really have a place here, when she was trying to move on and have things be better than they were before.

Maybe having friends at Hogwarts who had been like Raizel might have helped, but that had never been Akiva's crowd, and even now, she didn't think she was going to start surrounding herself with people like Raizel.  One (arguably two, if you counted Adon, but Adon had his own place) was enough. 

"Of course," Akiva smoothed over, nodding at Raizel's stern answer.  It wasn't as though she was proposing the woman move in - it was just dinner.  "I wouldn't want to hold you up."  Akiva had a sneaking suspicion she actually had nothing to do (it wasn't a very hard thing to deduce by the oh so specific places she had to be), but she wouldn't wound her pride just to make a point. 

"It'll be worth it," Akiva reaffirmed, turning to walk toward the kitchen.  "I'm making lamb," she said flippantly, grabbing the materials she required out of various cabinets without even really thinking about it.  While Raizel might have been able to navigate any situation outside, Akiva had total control of this realm, and she quite liked it - the clanking of pots and pans, sizzling, bubbling, everything about it was comforting. 

As she grabbed the meat and sides, Akiva motioned behind the counter, where several tall stools were. "You can sit, if you like, and do you want a drink?" It was natural for Akiva to ask, and she didn't really have to think when she went to open the bag of marinating lamb - only to remember, upon the glint of a jewel catching the light, that she had to remove her jewelry. 

She moved to the counter, a little decorative dish next to the supporting pillar, where she slid off her rings and bracelet without thought, placing them there.  "Wouldn't want to ruin anything," she laughed softly, shrugging her shoulders with explanation before she walked back to the counter while rolling her sleeves, thinking only of getting everything in the oven.

Raizel snorted and gave a fluttering wave of her hand.  Akiva Eleor wouldn't hold her up.  She was here because she had decided that she wanted to be, and when she decided that wanted to leave, she'd leave.  Preferably after dinner, but if the circumstances grew too undesirable too soon, even that could change.

Warily, she followed the other woman into her kitchen.  Raizel cast a cautious look about, crossing her arms as she casually leaned back against the wall behind her.  Akiva began immediately bustling as if she'd been born to this room, pulling out items, casting them about, taking firm control as Raizel had never seen her do before.  The Cursebreaker stood stiffly apart, watching, and returned the invitation to claim a stool with a nonchalant shrug.  Sitting implied permanence. 

"Do you have drinks?" she asked disbelievingly.  Dreogan wouldn't, she knew; the older mage didn't drink alcohol and never had, as far as Raizel was aware.  She wouldn't have expected that his wife was any different.  Akiva was almost entirely how she had pictured Dreogan's eventual romantic match: Jewish, though maybe not quite as conservative; bubbly and a little bit awkward; clearly in need of her husband's oversight and protection.  Dreogan liked responsibility, though whether or not he always lived up to that mantle was a matter for debate, Raizel thought sourly.  Clearly his wife would be another thing for him to protect.

She leaned an elbow on the counter, tapping her fingers as she carefully took measure of the room.  If Akiva were what she expected in Dreogan Eleor's wife, than this was what she expected in Akiva Eleor's kitchen.  Neat.  Clean.  Orderly.  Everything carefully arranged.  Attention paid to details.  The meat...Raizel eyed it as Akiva set it out.  She had never in her life spent more than forty five minutes preparing any meal.  Thinking ahead enough in advance to actually marinade something, caring so much about the preparation of something that she would consume in a mere single sitting  -- that was what restaurants were for.

The Cursebreaker sighed.  This wasn't her world.  Carefully organized kitchens and marinated lamb and overprotective families and coffee in the morning.  She might be visiting temporarily, but once things were resolved -- hopefully without anyone's untimely death -- she'd be back to empty deserts and freedom and dusty tombs.

The silence in the room felt weighty enough that she felt obligated to say something.  Raizel tossed her hair back, shaking her head.  "You have a nice kitchen," she put in gingerly.  That sounded like the sort of thing that someone comfortable in Akiva's neat and orderly world would say, but it needed more to it.  She inspected the nearest shelf, gauging it warily to calculate an appropriate compliment.  "It is very...clean."

"Adon left some bottles here last time he stopped in," Akiva motioned back with a wave of her hand.  They didn't drink in the house, for many reasons. Dreogan didn't drink at all, and Akiva had never been particularly interested in it.  Now, being in the state she was, it wasn't even a thought, but as much as they were the only two who lived her permanently, they had guests and Akiva liked to keep everyone happy and comfortable in whatever way she could, meaning she kept a steady, small supply of whatever she could find "And I try to keep it, just in case he stops in." 

She had never wanted a house that was lonely and quiet.  Even growing up, despite it only being her parents and her, there were people constantly in and out of the house, sharing ideas and meals.  Her childhood home had been a place of exchange, and people coming in and out - it had kept her from being lonely, from realizing how isolating being the only one could be. 

So, she relished when guests were about - even ones that were flaunting their reluctance.  Akiva did not pay mind to it, Raizel wasn't the type to show her gratitude in a way that would over emphasize what she felt, and she certainly would be begrudging about it.  She hadn't tasted the food yet, and that, Akiva knew, was going to be more than enough.

Previous to Dreogan, she had kept an Eastern European diet, but she started to integrate the Middle East into her culinary repertoire, which thankfully, was backed by a litany of skills.  If she hadn't been petrified of Professor Snape, she might have excelled in potions. 

As she turned back to the oven to twist it on, Akiva laughed softly.  "Thank you," she replied easily to the compliment, knowing it was not in Raizel's nature to compliment, especially on something that she did not deem important.  It wasn't Akiva's place to draw attention to it though, and she smiled, just a little, at her, to acknowledge she understood Raizel was trying.  They were very different women, but at least they could try to give each other some credit. 

Akiva noted the woman was exceedingly uncomfortable, holed up against the wall, looking aloof and detached, but also tense.  This was not a space she was used to occupying.  After all, if she thought it was nice to say a kitchen was clean - well, Akiva feared for the kitchens she had been in that showed otherwise.  No, they were most assuredly from two very different worlds.  Raizel was the kind of woman you read about, or saw in a program, not the kind that actually existed until you had the fortune (or misfortune) to meet them. 

"You know," Akiva looked at her as she prepared the pan to be placed into the oven, not even really watching her own hands, "You never really told me how it is you've learned everything you're teaching me.  Did it have to do with the IDF or your job at Gringott's?  Or both?" Maybe Raizel would feel more comfortable talking about something she knew, she was at ease with.  She certainly didn't know anything about a kitchen!

The idea that Adon had a not-so-secret store of alcohol at every location where he might likely pay a visit was far easier to accept than the thought that either Akiva or Dreogan Eleor would drink.  Raizel gave a nonchalant shrug to the offer.  At least its origin meant that the alcohol, be it beer or arak, was probably of high quality.  Adon had expensive tastes in almost everything.

"Then I will have a drink," she said simply.

It was odd, watching the other woman who was normally so tentative in their practice sessions move so confidently about her kitchen.  Clearly, Akiva Eleor was in her element.  A little too in her element, Raizel noted suspiciously, as she was suddenly prone to asking prying questions that she wouldn't have dared to put forward a few minutes before.

She shrugged again, her gaze drifting across the room as she leaned against the counter, resting her chin on one hand.  "Everyone studies Krav Maga in the IDF," she said simply.  "And we have gymnastics at Beit Gaddol -- it is like any other Mamlachti school.  The rest..."  She tilted her head to the side in a half-shrug, vaguely watching Akiva's movements as the witch continued with her business about the kitchen.  "I worked a little bit at some other places before I started at Gringotts," she said vaguely, nonchalantly.  "You pick up tricks quickly, especially if you are a woman."

After sliding the tray into the oven, Akiva moved to grab Raizel's drink - a beer bottle that Akiva did not know one thing about, just that Adon brought it and she looked for the same ones when she went shopping so she could keep the supply up, should it have dwindled.  But, she shrugged and grabbed the opener off the side of the metal surface and clicked it open with little effort before she crossed the kitchen to hand it to her. 

Really, Raizel could have moved more into the space, but she would do as she pleased, that much was clear, until she felt comfortable.  Akiva was too busy preparing sides for the lamb to coax her in like a rabbit. 

She listened though, and nodded as Raizel spoke, confirming some of Akiva's thoughts and leaving other things as vague as possible.  "We never had anything like that at Hogwarts," obviously, judging by Akiva's skill set, but it wasn't the English way of things, and being a muggleborn, she did not have access to the knowledge that would have sent her to Beit Gaddol, not that she supposed she would have done very well there.  She was very English, made even more apparent sometimes against Dreogan's worldly self. 

It wasn't as though she wasn't open, but it was a transition, having never traveled very far herself, and the farther she actually ever went being with Dreogan.  The result of said trip weighing heavily on her hips and back right now. Heaving a sigh, Akiva laughed softly, "I can't believe the lives you all have lead," she admitted. 

"When I left Hogwarts after my sixth year, I took classes where my father teaches, and then after the war, when I finally went back, I just worked at the bookstore, helped with repairing the Hogwarts library," she shrugged.  "I got the job at the Ministry sort of by fluke.  It was a good fluke though," she nodded, maybe to reaffirm it to herself, and laughed softly before she looked up from turning the stopover on.  "Not exactly prepared for battle at a moment's notice," she jabbed at herself.  She knew her weaknesses, it didn't hurt to make fun of them. 

"Unless," she flipped a spatula in her hand, "it was an unruly mushroom or piece of asparagus that required defeating."

Raizel snorted, giving a wave of her hand as she accepted the drink.  "There are spells to deal with asparagus," she said loftily, her expression completely serious.

She was leaning over the counter now, both elbows resting on it as she lifted the beer bottle to take a sip.  She had not thought very much about Akiva Eleor.  If it hadn't been for the witch's relationship with Dreogan, she wouldn't have given her a second glance.  The other woman was meek, demure, and dependent -- all qualities that Raizel hated, which she would have loathed to see in herself and which vastly irritated her in other people.  Akiva did not stand proudly on her own; she relied on those around her to support and protect her, and was helpless if they didn't.

But she had still married Dreogan Eleor, which was not exactly a safe path.  Or an easy one -- Raizel knew better than anyone how irritatingly insufferable the Eleor family could be, and Dreogan in his own way was the worst.  She had also never really protested the lessons in self defense.  At the time, Raizel had assumed it was because Akiva never protested anything, but maybe she was beginning to show that she really did understand the importance.

Akiva was also considerably more willing to share than Raizel had ever been.  The Cursebreaker regarded her, brows knitting as she considered the volunteered information.  The witches and wizards of the United Kingdom, when they spoke of a war, meant only one or two -- as if none of the other wars that plagued the rest of the world had any weight in their lives.  It had been years since a Muggle conflict had come to England's shores, but the singular focus still seemed arrogantly detached.  From what she knew of it, there had been worse wars.

"You mean the war against the dark wizard?" she asked bluntly, frowning as she watched Akiva.  "Why did you leave Hogwarts?"

"There are," Akiva smiled more fully, "but only the aggressive ones."  She chuckled softly, shaking her head.  It wasn't as though Akiva had many other things to cast spells against in the past.

Of course, at the next question, Akiva's hands stopped moving.  Perhaps being from outside of England made it a less... important conflict, but for Akiva, it had comprised a majority of her childhood.  It followed her around, like a dark cloud, when she was at school, and slurs had be volleyed around without thought as to what they meant.  Some had claimed the name in power, but Akiva certainly didn't. 

"The second war, yes," Akiva clarified for her.  Israel had its own share of problems, of course, Akiva was keenly aware - she followed the muggle and magic news, and liked to be up to date, but it was different.  It felt very different.  "Against Voldemort."  He wasn't just any dark wizard, and he had a name, that people had to use, otherwise they forgot.

It might have been over ten years ago, but it affected everything.  It ripped her education away, it ripped her friends away, it ripped the world apart for a time. Looking at Raizel, leaning on the counter, Akiva wondered just how much she knew about it, and what kind of emphasis other parts of the world put on the conflict. "Well, they started cataloging muggleborns," Akiva explained delicately.

"Dumbledore had been killed; the ministry fell in August, before the school year," Akiva licked her lips, "there were reports of disappearances - rumors of murders of muggleborns in the Ministry.  Then, there was the Headmaster, Snape, at that point, well, everyone thought he was under Voldemort's thumb.  If I went back," she heaved a heavy sigh, "it was a far cry from certain that I was going to make it home." 

There was, of course, the victory, but it had been long speculated on, and despite even her optimism, for a long time, it didn't seem like it would happen at all.  "You'd think, after all that, there wouldn't even be questions blood purity anymore, but it still happens."  She shrugged at the conclusion, unsure of how to really conclude it without divulging in another story. 

"I don't know what they teach everywhere else about it, or if there was much coverage outside of Europe," outside of England, more likely, but she was being generous, "but, it was all we really thought about." 

Raizel's expression was growing gradually more guarded as she watched Akiva across the room.

"There was coverage," she said cautiously.  "And there were some students at Beit Gaddol who were British -- like Adon."  Not that he would ever admit it willingly -- it had been obvious even back then that Adon had wanted desperately to be sabra.  But it was equally obvious how worried he'd been about his mother, and about the brother who had disappeared in search of something that he'd never found.  Raizel still hadn't forgiven Dreogan for that.

They'd known of the darkness in England, but they'd never been in the thick of it.  So much had been more immediate: the constant ebb and flow of tension in Jerusalem, the laughs and struggles and heartbreaks of their own student life.  If it hadn't been for Adon, she would never have paid any attention to it.  As it was, she had barely noticed it.  There had been so many more injustices and dangers that felt so much closer to home.

"We knew a little.  But Israel has its own wars," she said with a shrug, playing with her beer bottle.  "Dark wizards, too.  It is not as safe at home -- the Ministry in Jerusalem might like to pretend that it is, but there are so many old places and old grudges that they can't control everything."

That didn't excuse what had happened in England, though.  And the details of it -- the disappearances, the cataloguing, the murders -- were enough to make her shift uncomfortably.  No, there were always still questions.  But some things would never be allowed to be repeated.

"I am sorry," Raizel said at last.  She spoke in a slow, halting manner, as if she weren't quite sure of the words in English, though she lifted her gaze to meet Akiva's.  "For the war.  It cannot have been easy," she said steadily.  "I'm glad that you did make it home."

"It's almost funny," Akiva mused, more to herself than to Raizel, "how the world seems so incredibly small when you're seventeen years old.  I'll admit I wasn't thinking about Israel, or the wars anywhere else either," she said with a tentative smile, now actually addressing her. 

"That might be one of the similarities between our governments then," Akiva shook her head.  She wasn't the most politically active woman in the world, but she knew her government had paid much closer attention now than she ever had in the past. "No matter how much time passes, old grudges always seem to come up.  And there's always someone trying to cover it up - keep it under control." 

She rubbed her hands together, almost anxiously, a habit she had picked up from playing with her bracelets, but in the absence of those, she had to do something - and the vegetables that were in the pan did not require any attention yet. 

"But thank you," she finally said, acknowledging that it meant something for Raizel to express sympathy, and with a topic that sounded close to either of their back stories - Cohen and Katz weren't exactly rarities in Eastern Europe.  It wasn't something she exactly wished to linger on though, it was eleven years past.  "Me too," she smiled, "or else I wouldn't be here now, learning how to scream my way out of a confrontation and all the best pressure points." 

She laughed brightly now, pushing away the darkness and welcoming in a new, fresher future.  "Maybe," she looked down at her distended and rounded middle, "after he's born, we'll actually be able to teach me something real - best ways to strangle someone, maybe?" she wrinkled her nose, grasping the handle of the pan and tossing the vegetables before adding a few spices.

The Israeli gave a snort, barking out a surprised, appreciative laugh.  The thought of Akiva Eleor trying to strangle anyone was the obvious foundation of humor; the thought of her learning to do so willingly was nearly beyond the pale.  But then, Raizel thought, she'd been surprised by more things in her life.

"Strangling would not be very effective," she said matter-of-factly, flashing her teeth in a quick smile.  "You're too small.  It would be too difficult for you to get good leverage.  And besides," she added, with a devilish grin, "there are better ways to deal with Adon when he gets annoying."

Looking incredibly pleased with herself, Raizel raised the bottle to take a long sip.  The tension that had been building throughout the previous conversation topic had already left her shoulders. Humor aside, laying out possible future lesson plans was a far preferable subject matter than talking about herself or discussing anything that might have happened in England ten years ago. 

"I could teach you.  It would be a good idea for you to learn more, anyhow," she added soberly.   That was the biggest problem she had had with Dreogan's treatment of his wife.  She could understand not wanting to cause her stress when she was pregnant, but the elder Eleor brother knew what kind of life he led.  If he was unwilling or unable to push Akiva, he should have found someone who could.

Raizel tilted her head in a half-shrug, arranging her elbows on the counter as she finally settled onto the stool.  "The Eleor family, they always have plenty of enemies," she said frankly.  "That was why Dreogan left school, you know, after their father was taken.  And that group that he thinks will kill Adon, that Katsaros was with, he spent time with them too.  Grudges like that can last a long time," she added, her eyes shifting over Akiva as if she were evaluating her survival chances.  "It is dangerous to be involved with someone who is subject to them.  I would never let my guard down, if I were you."