Frankfurt, about half past six in the evening. The family home of Wolfgang and Camille Storm.

---

The sun had gone down, and the house was quiet. Camille would normally have been home a while ago now, but Wolfgang knew where she was. He'd been one step ahead of her for some time.

In his years at Chrysopoeia he'd met a lot of people, but there were a particular set of individuals he kept very dear to his heart. They were impeccably useful when it came to settling disputes and discovering insider information about potential business sales. No need for extendable ears, imperio or veritaserum, Wolfgang had other ways of making men's jaws loose.

The dog head was perhaps a tad strong in approach, but he had been livid that morning. The fresh paper delivered to his desk beside his coffee by his faithful secretary, who then summoned the most appropriate individual he requested. The box marked as steaks had been there faster than he could have hoped.
Your wife has left the bank, Sir.
Thank you, could you write a label for this, get it sent to my son at the British Ministry, just put.." His secretary efficient to oblige as he continued to examine the family will.
Very good Sir.

The fireplace was empty, save for a very low fire which continued as embers. An owl to the floo border staff at the German Ministry had arrived around forty minutes later to confirm Camille had left the country. Predictable, and yet, so sweet. She hated the floo, that's one of the reasons they'd got the house in Frankfurt rather than staying in Hanover where Johann had been born, and where the old family were. She could apparate without too much fear of the distance.

He'd poured himself a firewhiskey, the bottle still sat on the little table beside his leather armchair, and he chuckled to himself. Made a bit money that afternoon from the family, those foolish enough to forget the exact deal of the family bet over his son's marital status. Werewolf or not, it was a woman he'd engaged, not that man in the strange place his son had chosen to live.

The living room had been cleared of the signs of Christmas, now back to its usual self, with paintings on the walls over rich green wallpaper, of country scenes and anything that wasn't able to talk. Wolfgang had a dislike for paintings that spoke, they were nosey and interrupted. He could change the art on his walls as he liked, all of them on loan from the bank's investment collection.

The family house elf had gone to ground, keeping quiet. He knew it didn't much like serving him alone, and had probably hidden in the cupboard with the saucepans again, waiting for its mistress to arrive back.

At once, the grate sputtered, and his wife appeared in a burst of flames, crossing the carpet in silence, and smacked him clean across the face with her ring hand, before bending double, a hand to her own face, and staggering out of the room into the kitchen, an unsightly green tinge to her skin, sounding like she was going to vomit. Was that a whimper? She was in a hell of a state, and he found his limbs automatically stiffening to get up and check on her, but forced himself back down. These things had to be done.

The rattle of pans in the adjacent room confirmed his earlier suspicions about the elf, and he heard gentle sobs from the woman not normally prone to violence. Feeling guilty, her husband assumed.

He put a hand to his face, which smarted, his cheekbone bright red from the strike. It was the first time in more years than he remembered that Camille had done something like that, Wolfgang put down his whiskey and sat forward, just in time to see the fireplace light up twice in quick succession.

"Ahh the happy couple." He greeted from across the room, the impression slightly reduced by the sound of his wife being unwell in the kitchen.

Unfortunately for Hannah Bombay, her experiences of travelling by floo were rather similar to Camille Storm’s. She fell from the fireplace behind Johann and grabbed his arm to steady herself. Her cheeks took on an unhealthy pallor and a hand rose to cover her mouth and anything threatening to evacuate her stomach. There was a reason Hannah used apparition more often than floo. She could handle a short distance floo but apparently not crossing oceans.

"Ahh the happy couple." The familiar accented voice spoke, accompanied by the sound of his wife having a far worse reaction to the travel than his future daughter-in-law. Hannah finally stood up straight, still gripping Johann (no doubt astonishing the wizard). But she needed the support at that moment. Never before had Hannah travelled this far. She wasn’t about to mention to Johann that this was the first time she’d ventured from the UK in her twenty-four years.

Seeing the wizard sat so comfortably in his chair inspired so much hate within Hannah that she had to hold herself back from withdrawing her wand and blasting him into the next millennium. As Johann had previously pointed out, Hannah couldn’t afford being up in front of the Wizengamot again as much as she wanted to make the German wizard pay for his actions.

“Oh well, we just wanted to thank you so much for such a thoughtful gift, Mr Storm.” Hannah said, feeling her strength return from the trip. She released Johann’s arm and stepped closer to Storm. The sound coming from the other room was certainly not helping her right now.

Closer, the red mark on Wolfgang’s cheek became noticeable. His wife had obviously made her feelings known before running away to empty her stomach contents. Hannah was only relieved that hadn’t happened in her kitchen with the sight of the dog’s head having been affectionately sent to them.

The healer placed a hand on her stomach, locking eyes with Johann’s vicious father. She wanted to infuriate him now.

“It really is such a relief to know that our babies are going to have such a supportive set of grandparents.”

“Oh well, we just wanted to thank you so much for such a thoughtful gift, Mr Storm. It really is such a relief to know that our babies are going to have such a supportive set of grandparents.”

Wolfgang laughed. He sat back in his chair and laughed. She was good, this Hannah Bombay, she put up a fight. He could almost see why his son liked her so much.

The girl had hung on to Johann's arm, a little worse for wear as she'd arrived in their living room. His son had looked ever so slightly surprised, even concerned, almost dropped the box that Wolfgang remembered from that morning.

There was fire in her eyes as she closed in on him, Wolfgang met them with his own, colder ones.

"Babies?" He spat, incredulously, "Don't be so stupid."

Johann had put down the box behind them and had stepped up slowly to join the witch in front of him, looking cautious. Wolfgang looked to his son's face briefly, and then again for longer.

The newspaper had said they were going to marry quickly.

"You're - you're having children?"

The tone changed from sarcasm to actual surprise and alarm, and he sprang forward in his chair, his eyes raking up and down Hannah's body for signs of evidence. If he was honest, he didn't realise his son had it in him…

Hannah's grip on his arm had been more what Johann had expected his mother to be doing, but Camille hadn't waited at the floo border, she'd ploughed straight ahead while Johann had wrangled in hurried German with the official minding the fireplaces, ensuring Hannah got through swiftly.

So by the time Johann had clearly given Hannah the name of their destination, worried her English accent would send her to the wrong fireplace at first, his mother had vanished into the kitchen, and was being unwell.

His father was seated in his favourite chair, looking smug. Johann felt an unusual, and more recent surge of dislike in his gut on looking at Wolfgang. Johann's eyes turned to Hannah who was still hanging on his arm uncharacteristically. She didn't look well, out of the three of them, he was obviously the most seasoned at fireplace travel.

At least he could let Hannah have her say to his father without having to translate any obscenities. Wolfgang was fluent, he'd used it for longer than his son had been alive.

She was on fine form already. Leaving Johann by the fireplace where he was waiting to let her steady, she walked towards Wolfgang in his leather armchair, and Johann wrestled the wretched box out from under his arm and put it down on the top of a dresser which was cluttered with family photographs.

"…It really is such a relief to know that our babies are going to have such a supportive set of grandparents.”

His father was laughing. Johann was lucky she'd said it as he was putting down the box otherwise his expression would have been a dead giveaway of the lie.

"Babies? Don't be so stupid."

Merlin, had he missed something somewhere? He was pretty sure each night since Christmas, at very least, he'd slept in a bed, alone. Didn't people have to share a bed to do that? Do things to each other that were apparently pleasurable and have a lack of clothing? None of the above seemed likely, and last time he'd checked, well, Hannah had checked, that hadn't happened, and she was pleased. Had she changed her mind? Was this fuelling the engagement? Had… had he taken too much sleeping potion one night and simply lost the memory of it all?

Now he was feeling sick. Not over it happening, but having no memory, one of his greatest fears.

Taking a deep breath with his back to them both, Johann turned round and quietly walked up behind Hannah, hoping that he wouldn't find them both brandishing wands at each other.

His father's gaze was fixed on Hannah's face but switched quickly and cleanly to Johann, who was using his height to quickly check for wands, and then stepped to one side of them both to better see, and try to work out expressions. His father looked away and then looked again, Johann noticed the change in expression from the lazy sarcastic attitude to that keen stare he saved for when he was interrogating a member of his staff.

"You're - you're having children?"

News to me too, Father, Johann thought in silent response. His own eyes had slid to Hannah, measuring the possibility of what he was meant to do. It would look incredulous to deny it now Hannah had said it like that, unless she was just doing it for shock tactic humour.

His father had shot forward in the armchair and was keenly examining Hannah with his eyes.

"We thought it would be easy enough to see from the newspaper." Johann spoke, his voice had almost deserted him, lost somewhere in his throat, with his courage. He'd remembered the urgency of marriage that Cynthia Bombay had expressed to the paper, had made a link to it and Hannah's words.

At that instant, he wasn't entirely sure Hannah was joking. Again, he was at a loss. But, if somehow he had managed to lose all memory of this happening, he'd have to question her later, not now.

"We aren't the type to broadcast it." He added, more meaning their supposed relationship, and also, the supposition that Johann must love Hannah to ask her to marry him, a possibility he drew conclusion on as the only reason for him to have done that, not his incredible mishandling of romantic situations.

As Wolfgang began to put two and two together, his expression was priceless. The Prophet had suggested a rushed marriage, Johann had thought it meant Hannah was keen, she had decided to use it to her advantage to hit Wolfgang where it hurt. He was a traditionalist; he detested the mere idea of his son being friends with a werewolf, let alone reproducing with one to possibly bring the lycan disease into his family. To give lycans his family name.

"You're - you're having children?"

Hannah continued to stare at Storm as he questioned both her and his son. If Johann let her down now she’d never forgive him. This confrontation was being done for him as much as her and she desperately needed him to catch on enough to help her save face and torment Wolfgang Storm.

But he came through, if a little shakily. Hannah spared a quick glance at him, confirming his expression wasn’t revealing the truth and the wizard’s definite confusion. He was no doubt questioning what he’d missed. The idea that Hannah was lying probably wouldn’t have even crossed the wizard’s mind just yet.

The eyes scanning up and down her body were uncomfortable but the witch knew what Wolfgang was looking for. Signs of pregnancy, a belly revealing a litter of baby weres growing within her.

“Exactly. That’s why we’re very eager to get married. Before I start looking more than just bloated and we bring shame on our beloved families. The sooner I become Mrs Hannah Storm the better.” Despite her inner feelings, Hannah offered the wizard a small smile. “And you, Dad? Is that alright if I call you Dad? We’re practically family now  - Or no, it’s Vater in German.. Well, I think they’re going to call you Grandpa Wolfie. Or Papa Wolfie.”

"We thought it would be easy enough to see from the newspaper."

Wolfgang's heart stopped for a beat, his son was confirming the lycan woman's words. He could only just hear him, though every sense seemed to be on high alert in Wolfgang's body all of a sudden.

"We aren't the type to broadcast it."

"Clearly!" Wolfgang snipped, eyes bulging like a frog.

“Exactly. That’s why we’re very eager to get married. Before I start looking more than just bloated and we bring shame on our beloved families. The sooner I become Mrs Hannah Storm the better.”

Wolfgang gave a strangulated yelp from somewhere deep within his voicebox. He wasn't even sure where it had come from, and hadn't meant to let it out. His fingernails had dug into the arms of the chair he was poised at the front of. It hadn't happened long ago then, he couldn't quite remember how early they could diagnose it in witches, it had been a while back in the 70s when Johann had come along, it had been a bit unexpected anyhow to happen like that.

But he wasn't feeling the same joy now at finding out about grandchildren as he had when Camille had told him about the possibility of a child on the way.

Before he'd found out Hannah had been bitten, Wolfgang had been somewhat encouraging his son to pursue a relationship, and he now regretted ever having encouraged Johann to get involved with the awful woman.

“And you, Dad? Is that alright if I call you Dad? We’re practically family now  - Or no, it’s Vater in German.. Well, I think they’re going to call you Grandpa Wolfie. Or Papa Wolfie.”

"We are not family." Wolfgang sprang from his chair, smouldering. "Wasn't enough to play with his heart, but you had to trick him into-" Wolfgang flailed mentally for the word a moment, both hands gesturing towards Hannah's stomach, "breeding with your kind!"

He was inches from Hannah's face, meeting her eye for eye, bent over somewhat as she was shorter than him, a long finger wagging beneath her chin, threatening to try and poke her eyes out.

"Disgusting little," the word got caught in his throat, his son had made moved closer suddenly, as if attempting to put himself between them, but not quite getting there, faltering in his confidence. 

Wolfgang drew himself to his full height, an inch within Johann's, and put his face into his son's,
"Revolting, both of you!" He spat in Johann's face with venom, "Lying with a cursed woman, bringing shame upon the family. We brought you up to be better than this!" Wolfgang's long finger poked towards Hannah but didn't make contact. The spittle was flying from his lips and he could hear and see his son's shallow, quick breathing. Johann was scared of him. Good!

"How dare you come in my house," he continued without pause, continuing to shove his face into his son's, until he forced Johann to lean backwards far enough to lose balance and take a step away. "with your news of engagement and monsters,"

His hand was reaching for his wand, and he failed to notice the noise in the kitchen had changed.
"You are no son or daughter of mine!" Wolfgang's wand found his hand and was raised above his head in close range. At the same moment, Johann pulled his own, snapping an arm around Hannah's shoulders to pull her close to him. To Wolfgang it looked protective and further confirmation of their relationship, but in reality, Johann had seen his father's hand and didn't want either Hannah or his father to draw or use their wands. He was trembling so hard he felt like he could pass out. Had it been a conscious move, he'd have never attempted to restrain Hannah - that was a mistake.

"Expelliarmus!" Camille's voice intoned the spell, though it sounded as if she had a blocked up nose. A ghastly pale while, colour had begun to return in two rosy cheek bones, and she stood, holding the kitchen door for support, fumbling to catch her husband's wand.

She'd heard enough, but not the full recount from Hannah about being pregnant. Johann, realising his action, quickly unhanded his best friend with a start, but his wand remained raised.

"They have my blessing, even if they do not have yours, Wolf." The English sprung forth in a surprise, it had been a long time since he'd heard his wife use that language, and that meant she was doing it for the benefit of the werewolf in the room.

Seething, Wolfgang turned his head, his teeth bared and his shoulders rising and falling with each angry breath.
"Blessing?" He shouted, rounding on his wife, breaking free from the space between the armchair and the two younger people in the room, appealing to his wife's intelligence. "You bless the unborn children of our son and a werewolf?!"

Camille's face betrayed her, clutching a wand in each hand now, her knees momentarily buckled and she had to lean against the door.
"Children?" Her eyes went straight to Hannah and Johann behind Wolfgang, looking for confirmation, and found her son matching her expression.

The wizard leapt from his chair, his rage obviously getting the better of him. Hannah secretly felt pleased. All she’d had to do was wind him up and watch him go. His hatred of werewolves sickened her and the venom he started responding with increased her heartbeat, causing fear to stir in her senses but she didn’t reveal it. Even with the wizard bearing down from his height, leaning forwards to stick his face in hers. Hannah’s expression remained calm, blank and she continued to stand up straight. This appalling wizard was certainly not going to get the better of her. Hannah loathed letting anyone anger her or cause her fear. And she certainly was never willing to show it.

But the closeness ceased within moments and instead Wolfgang had turned his fury onto his own kin. The healer allowed her eyes to follow the couple but she still resisted any sign of emotion. The words hurt. They cut deep. But Hannah had heard so many already. Her skin was growing thicker, becoming more accustomed to hate blasted in her direction. Regrettably it was now normal and people like Wolfgang Storm were more common than she had ever imagined. This one, the original Wolfgang Storm made it all personal, however. He intimidated her.

"You are no son or daughter of mine!"

Storm reached for his wand and Hannah’s hand moved to snatch her own from the robe pocket when Johann grabbed her and pulled her close, leaving her arm unable to reach the wand. Now this did anger her. Her plain expression started to register the slightest emotion when a spell was cast and Wolfgang’s wand flew from his hand in the direction of the doorway where Camille stood.

Hannah shrugged Johann off and stood up straighter, watching the exchange through alert eyes.

"Children?"

“No.” Hannah responded plainly. She wasn’t going to lie to this woman. Despite her husband being a repugnant excuse for a wizard, Camille Storm was sweet.

Next the healer turned to Wolfgang, her expression once again cold. “Wolf? That’s a terribly unfortunate name for someone so hateful of werewolves. But I suppose you’ll have more of a bond with the lycan now that I’m to be your daughter-in-law. I wonder if charming people like yourself will begin sending you decapitated dog heads?”

“No.” Hannah uttered.

Johann's breath stopped for a moment, caught in his lungs. She'd lied, it had been to rile his father, he'd played along, she'd revealed the deception so quickly, he could see his mother's face was streaked with tears. What a horrific day it was for her, for everyone. The only consolation being that he hadn't lost a memory of an event that hadn't happened.

He lowered his wand hand, his free hand forming a fist, staring over his father's head at his mother who had slid down the kitchen door, knees bent, back up against it, still clutching two wands. Although he didn't know it, his mother's heart was beginning to break over this day. There wouldn't be much chance, if any of coming back from this, Camille knew. Wolfgang held extensive grudges and she had never heard her husband and their son argue like this in thirty years.

“Wolf? That’s a terribly unfortunate name for someone so hateful of werewolves. But I suppose you’ll have more of a bond with the lycan now that I’m to be your daughter-in-law. I wonder if charming people like yourself will begin sending you decapitated dog heads?” Hannah was still resilient. Johann didn't have time to admire her pluck, petrified she would get herself hurt, or arrested, or both.

"But you won't be my daughter-in-law you silly girl." Wolfgang snarled in return, although shocked at his wife's choice to disarm him he didn't let it knock him out of his stride. Hannah was shorter, younger and cursed. Wolf or not within her, he wouldn't rest in persecuting her until she left his family alone. If he had to hire those people, then he would.

"You'll marry him over my dead body."

So be it, one of the voices in Johann's voice called. There was a deafening cacophony of them baying for blood in his head. The voice that had suggested he once break the neck of a healer when he was being treated was leading the chorus.

"I'll marry who the hell I want." He snapped. The combination of the day's stresses, Hannah being shoulder to shoulder with him, his father disarmed, and his mother on his side as far as he knew, his minimal courage was finding its voice. At the last moment, too late. He wasn't even sure what he was saying, mind working faster than he could consciously track.

"I will marry Hannah, and it doesn't concern you."

His father's lip curled like an angry dog. Every line of his face visible, particularly the furrows above his nose.

"We haven't come here for your blessing, we haven't come to plead or convince!"

Father launched at son, seizing the collar of his son's coat in both hands, pulling them so close to each other their noses touched. He too, had had enough, of his son's interest in men, or werewolves, or running away, or getting himself put in hospital. He was a disappointment. He had readied the will to amend in readiness for this moment. To strike Johann from it.

"Then you are no son of mine either!"

He threw his son backwards and released him. Johann stumbled backwards, what little courage had just surfaced dissipated with the action and he hit the dresser beside the fireplace, which he'd just placed the box on minutes before. He upset several photographs which fell onto the floor with a bang.

Camille covered her mouth, sobbing, frozen against the kitchen door. She would have to go to her family, tonight, she couldn't stay in this house.

Wolfgang fixed his murderous stare on Hannah and intoned five words slowly and forcefully.

"Get out of my house."

For what Hannah could only believe was the first time, Johann stuck up for himself and gained a bit of courage. Wolfgang didn’t seem to like this one bit as his expression turned to, what one can only call, ugly. Every wrinkle and line brought on by age, anger and frowning became prominent, revealing the old wizard’s true age and temperament. He looked like a dog about to attack its prey. Ironic it was that the dog hater resembled more of his target than the cursed werewolf.

"We haven't come here for your blessing, we haven't come to plead or convince!" Johann continued, facing up to his father. But Hannah saw every twitch of the older wizard’s muscles, knowing he was going to launch before even he knew it. The senses of the wolf were always there, making her more alert, registering tiny movements, smells and they only increased in strength when closing in on the full moon. But as much as she’d known he was going to move she couldn’t stop him. She didn’t do anything until the wizard was grasping Johann by his coat collar and shouting in his face, saliva bursting from the angry wizard’s mouth in much the fashion of an angry canine.

Her friend was thrown back into the dresser and Camille was slumped on the floor, crying like a woman that seriously needed to get her emotions in check. Was that what love and family did to you? Did it turn you into a quivering emotional wreck every time something unpleasant occurred? Hannah knew why she didn’t need to be part of all that.

"Get out of my house."

Now Dog and Wolf stood staring at each other. Wolfgang’s breath was quick, his whole body showing every ounce of anger he presently felt. Hannah could practically smell his sweat. She stood calmly, her arms by her side, expression plain but one could not miss the hate in her eyes. There was promise there, defiance and abhorrence.

The healer made no move to leave. She knew that attempting to match Wolfgang Storm in physical power or wand magic was a fool’s game. She was small, not physically strong and specialised in healing magic, not defensive or curses. But she had words and so far her words had caused his fury. They’d been the weapon that worked.

“You are pitiable.” Bombay calmly responded to his forceful words. “I am the one with the werewolf curse. I am the one you elate in calling a monster or a dog or a beast yet the only beast in this room is the one that just threw his own son across a room and caused his beloved wife to break down in tears on the floor. It’s a miracle she is married to you. And I would be amazed if your marriage lasts past this evening. Unlike mine.”

The witch took a step forward, closer to Wolfgang.

“I pity you.”

"… yet the only beast in this room is the one that just threw his own son across a room and caused his beloved wife to break down in tears on the floor. It’s a miracle she is married to you. And I would be amazed if your marriage lasts past this evening. Unlike mine.”

It was that moment he heard the muffled sobs from behind him, of Camille. Through his rage, the part of him that loved her so dearly, to the end of time was fighting to get air. He'd seen red, presented with the physical being that disgusted him so much, he'd lost his usual reasoning and not only drawn his wand but laid hands.

Their marriage, their love was strong enough, it would weather this and be better for it. With these two out of their lives, Camille wouldn't get upset, it wasn't Wolfgang making her upset, it was there two. They'd got into her head when she'd gone to Britain. He'd fix that.

His son was bent over somewhat, staring at his father and his dog at the level of Wolfgang's chest, rather than his face, as if unable to look up and observe the fury.

Johann looked beaten. The girl in front was not. Yet.

Would he have to raise a hand to a woman and strike her? It wasn't something he'd ever done in his life apart from in a duel or under direction at school. For all his rage and horrible personality bubbling beneath his keen, analytical, well organised mind, he had never in his life come to hitting a woman in rage, though his hands twitched with the thought now.

She wasn't a woman, she was a dog.

“I pity you.”

"I don't want your pity. I want you out of my hou-."

"Enough, Wolfgang, enough. Please, no more, please." Camille appealed from behind, interrupting. He countered almost as quickly.

"Of what? You brought them here!"

"What did you expect?" He gave a quarter turn, Hannah to his right, his stronger arm ready to reach out and brace against her throat or some other part that would hurt with his fingertips dug in.

His wife was coming to her feet, and he could see his wand in her hand.

"We'll leave." Johann spoke meekly, sounding obedient, retreating. His head had lowered, he was no longer looking to the witch he'd tried to protect a moment before.

"Good! Put her back on her lead, take your dog for 'walkies' elsewhere."

"Good! Put her back on her lead, take your dog for 'walkies' elsewhere." Wolfgang responded to his son’s meek surrender. He gave in too quickly and Hannah didn’t know when to stop. Ever since she’d been bitten she didn’t know when an argument as done. The wolf within her wanted to carry on fighting permanently.

At Wolfgang’s words, something inside Hannah Bombay snapped. She saw red. A bright, blood red as her own blood began to boil. The wolf within her roared, salivating at the prospect of ripping the wizard’s body apart with its teeth. Never had Hannah felt such wrath, such vehemence building within her, fighting to be released before. She wanted blood.

She wanted dog’s blood.

Wrath flashed behind the witch’s eyes, a murderous promise before she launched herself at Wolfgang with strength she hadn’t previously had. The wolf within had come out to play, to put Storm in his place.

Sharp nails raked across the wizard’s cheek, drawing blood that started to surge from the wounds as he fell backwards onto the ground. She fell onto him, straddling his lanky body. Within milliseconds she had her hands to his neck, holding him down, nails digging mercilessly into his skin. Her eyes were practically black, the softer brown framing her pupils appearing to have vanished with the appearance of her wolf like aggression.

“There’s a reason I’m a rogue werewolf. I suggest,” her grip tightened on his throat, “you don’t forget that.”

His father's shoulders hit the ground with a thud, the leather armchair receiving a passing blow from an arm on the way down. Wolfgang's eyes were full of surprise which turned to fear as he was unable to breathe, and Hannah's slight form pinned him down. She was going to bite him! She meant to kill him! The panic rose in the banker's throat, and he gasped fruitlessly for air, the warm flood of blood on his cheek wet on his clammy skin.

From behind her husband, Hannah's leap towards Wolfgang was quick and like a wild animal. Camille could see the shorter woman's face as she made her attack, and was shocked as she saw her husband felled by the girl, not by magic, but by sheer force.

Despite the anger and upset, her instinct to protect her kin was foremost. Wolfgang's wand fell from her grip, clattering to the floor beside the kitchen door, unheard by the occupants of the room. She wanted to throw a curse, knock them apart, but at the same time her instinct also wanted to rush to pull Hannah off Wolfgang, tear her hands from his neck.

She made it to just beside them, and thrust her wand at Hannah's head,
"Get off him!" Camille exclaimed, disturbed by the violence. "Johann!"

His mother's yell to him fell on deaf ears. Johann was staring at Hannah, frozen, still braced against the dresser. Even though his friend wasn't in her wolf form, she had launched herself like the wolf had at full moon, tearing into the Muggle woman. He'd tried to hide that memory away, not to think of it, and now all he could see was Hannah as the wolf, tearing his father apart in the family living room.

"Johann! Get her off him!"

The long-limbed linguist pulled himself back to his feet and hurried forward, weighing up the options of hexes and curses, and opted for something that would harm Hannah least and throw her most, he wrapped one arm beneath hers which were outstretched to throttle his father, and the other around her waist, and hauled with all his might.

Beneath, his father was squirming, his hands had automatically gone to his throat to try and prise Hannah from him, and Camille was helping. Neither mother nor son were violent types, they were somewhat unprepared for the speed of this conflict, and how to break it apart. Wolfgang wouldn't have hesitated to throw a curse and try and knock Hannah unconscious.

"Leave him!" Johann begged Hannah, still heaving, his face showing the effort. Her cloak caught in his feet and the two of them fell backwards, away from Wolfgang, Johann landing first, Hannah on top of him, both on their backs. The two struggled a moment to unravel themselves and Johann did all he can to stop her launching herself back across the room.

"Hannah, Hannah no, enough - please enough!" His voice was desperate, pleading. They did not need a bloody fight her, they did not need more trouble. She was ferociously strong and he had to use his additional weight and mass to try and fight back.

Wolfgang gasped for air as he was released, his family coming to his aid against the dog. His voice rasped and he gripped his wife's arms, pulling himself towards her with urgency. Camille bundled her husband into her arms, crouching on the floor beside the armchair, eyes turned fearfully towards Hannah, who had fallen away from them, limbs mixed with that of her future husband. All thought of what Wolfgang had done, what had just been said was gone for this fleeting moment, replaced by the need to protect what she had loved for over three decades.

"Get out!" Camille yelped at them both, "Leave, or I will call the Ministry." She cried at them, still cradling her gasping husband in her arms, his blood on her hands and face. Wolfgang couldn't speak, his mouth was open, eyes bulging, face bleeding from the strike, one hand to his throat where the pressure had been, the other gripping his wife's clothing for dear life.

Where the sudden strength had come from, Hannah did not know. Never before had she ever felt such rage bursting from within her. But every howler, every insult thrown at her, the fire in her flat, the murder of a favoured pet, every ‘gift’ sent to her for being a werewolf had built up to this moment. This emotional, hate fuelled moment which had put Wolfgang Storm between her legs, his neck vulnerable beneath her vice grip.

The wolf wanted to kill. It wanted to take every last bit of breath from his body like he had stripped her of her dignity. The wolf had fought against Johann’s attempts to pull her away from his father until his moves became stronger than her own and she was yanked from him, her tiny form flying back to land on top of Johann.

And he didn’t release her even then. Hannah struggled to get back up, to get back to Wolfgang and claw his eyes out, and to rip his tongue from his throat so no more hatred could be spoken, but Johann’s arms gripped her tightly around the waist, the man’s strength outdoing her own. Yet she squirmed, her breathing heavy, hair a mess, strands sticking to the sweat upon her face. Her hands were bloody.

"Hannah, Hannah no, enough - please enough!"
"Leave, or I will call the Ministry."

The restraint frustrated Hannah and she let out a groan, trying to push against Johann.
“Let me get him!” Her voice broke with the words. A new emotion sounded in her tone as she struggled to control her breathing. Tears began to well in her eyes. “Let me!”

She had to. She had to get someone for this injustice and who better than the wizard that so openly presented his hate? The appeal at court had been denied, she was still detested in society, and she needed to do something about it.

But she stopped fighting against Johann. Instead her body heaved and tears fell down her cheeks. “Get off me!” Maybe this was what the ministry meant by uncontrollable. By dangerous.

“Let me get him! Let me!”

The fury broke into tears. Beneath Hannah, Johann felt her sides heave as she breathed deeply against the grip of his arms around her. His eyes were screwed shut, his face buried in her shoulder, gripping for dear life, convinced she'd commit murder in this state.

The tears brought his eyes open and he raised his face, his cheek pressing against Hannah's ear a moment, both of them breathing hard with the effort of their struggle.

“Get off me!”

"No." Johann replied through gritted teeth, not needing to speak loudly, his lips were beside her ear, but he did loosen his shoulders ever so slightly with her not struggling back at last.

"I can't risk you doing something you'll regret."

Never had Hannah been so close to another witch or wizard before apart from either parents as a young child. But Johann gripped his friend tightly; his head so close to hers as he refused to let go. Her fury was ebbing, replaced with the frustration at his refusal to back down and a desperation forcing her to break down in tears. It would have been humiliating had she the ability to consider the situation from a distance.

"I can't risk you doing something you'll regret."

His hold eased but she still couldn’t free herself. Not that she was trying now anyway. Instead her eyes were full of tears, her body racking with an emotion akin to loss, the loss of dignity, of control, of the fury that had driven her through this encounter. What was there to drive her right now if it wasn’t anger and hatred?

Something she’d regret? Wolfgang deserved whatever he had got coming to him. He’d broken her down. The gift, the threats, the verbal theft of her dignity. And now she was being held in a pile on the floor, her body shaking with sobs.

“He deserves it…” she wept, her hands now clutching his arms tightly. “Take me home. Please…take me home.”

Hannah Bombay had given up.