The flat was frightfully cold as well as charred and quite a decrepit state. Its occupant was curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and studying the copy of Speak German Like a German in Ten Tantalising Chapters. It was unfortunate, Hannah had considered, that the book didn’t include a chapter on insults and horrible words in German. That would have been sufficiently more suited to her needs.

She needed to come up with a plan to seek revenge for Storm’s actions[1]. She needed to find out how to get hold of her money again. As if she hadn’t already been struggling financially with the fine, being forced to pay it in installments. Hannah had never been one to save up well. She lived off a month’s wages without preparing for any future. The flat was hers but that had cleared her of any money years ago when she’d been earning more. Now she was overdrawn and panicking about the next couple of weeks until she was once more paid.

A loud knocking at the doo9r broke Hannah’s concentration and her head shot up. Who in Merlin’s name would that be? She didn’t usually get visitors. Johann occasionally would come around but she hadn’t told him her suspicions about his father, she’d given him no reason to visit. And her mother…well she’d kick her out if it was her. She didn’t have the patience to deal with Cynthia Bombay today. Would it be Wolfgang Storm? Come to further torment her? Hannah shook her head, cursing herself for such a daft idea.

The book was snapped shut and dumped on the coffee table and Hannah started to stand up, Herbert the kitten falling off her lap onto the soft sofa cushions and cooing softly at being woken up. Still wrapped in the blanket, Hannah padded out of the living room and down the small corridor to her front door, bare feet cold against the bare floorboards where the carpet had burnt to a crisp.

A cold hand reached out and pulled the door open. Light brown eyes looked up to the rugged face of a wizard she’d not seen since sobbing into his shoulder in an emotional state. Part of her was embarrassed about that display of emotion. Part of her wanted to tell him to leave now.

The ruling part of her took a step forward and wrapped her arms around the wizard in a hug. She was actually immensely relieved he’d shown up.

1.	Never Retreat. Never Explain. Get it Done & Let Them Howl!

Well, that was unexpected!  Knox Greyfriar had braced himself to justify his unannounced drop-in, to good-naturedly ignore her protestations and budge himself into her flat - he even had pastries and coffee!  He certainly wasn't expecting a second rare hug from Hannah Bombay, the caustic witch who snapped at him even before she was cursed.

"Belated happy Christmas, Bombay," he said, and hugged her in return, even though one of his hands was holding a paper sack.  "And congratulations on your engagement!"

Emboldened by her unexpectedly warm welcome, Knox felt free to enter her flat and begin with his intended mission.  To give gifts and well-wishes and otherwise bother her as he bothered all his friends with conversation, food, and nearly over-staying his welcome.

"That article was a very strange way to hear about it," he said as he stepped in with a grin, "and count me among the surprised.  Who is this wizard, then?  Rather surprised I haven't heard of him.   You might have -"

But his cheerful verbosity was cut short.  He'd begun to look about him, down he corridor and seen the state of it.

"Merlin's bones, Bombay!  What's happened here!"  He turned back round to face her, his bag of well wishing now rumpled at his side.

Knox Greyfriar was a flurry of chatter and movement. He returned her hug before happily stepping his much larger frame into her flat, congratulating her on a fake engagement and being about the question her choice of fiancé. She’d barely had a chance to say a word before he suddenly questioned the state of her flat and Hannah realised he’d not seen it and had no doubt certainly not expected it to a disaster zone months upon months after the fire that had destroyed the previously bare but well put together apartment.

A shrug of her shoulders was given and the healer pulled the blanket tighter around her body. She’d never been the best at warming charms and couldn’t afford to utilise the muggle heating system running through the building.
“Fire” came a quiet mumble, “I’m not here often enough to worry about beautifying the effects.” She lied before glancing at the bag Knox grasped tightly between large fingers. Her eyes then swept over his body. He looked like a giant stood in her tiny hallway. Or did the hallway look minute as it tried to hold him in? She couldn’t exactly critique him on his little shack in the woods now he’d seen her unloved abode. At least his home looked lived in and cosy. This was the home of someone that had little other choice than to live here.

“You’ve never been before.” The healer pushed the front door closed before regarding her visitor with mild suspicion. She’d been glad to see him, yes. But the reality was she only ever saw Knox when they were in trouble or he had news about them in trouble. His company had not once carried good omens since their re-acquaintance in March.

“What’s happened now?”

Knox looked genuinely baffled by her question for moment, but then he shook it off as he realized what she meant.  "Oh! No, nothing's wrong.  Hannah," he pressed back to the more important issue.

"Your home is in ashes!"  He might have waited for her invite to join her in the kitchen or whereever, but now he felt more like they were at the scene of a crime and he had to look for survivors of a conflagration; he went on down the hallway and into the next room. 

He was stunned at what he saw.  He turned away from the sight and back to Hannah, a look of express concern on his face.  "Hannah, your home is in ashes.  What happened?" 

Alright, well, he'd said both of those things already but never received a satisfactorily detailed response.  His imagination was running wild and so it was far better that he demand an answer then continue to attempt to presume.  The traces of the fire were not recent, but they were extensive.  There was soot staining the ceiling, furniture was reduced to skeletons, but on top of everything the mess of habitation.  Take-out dinner containers, discarded Daily Prophets, laundry, a litter box there under the table...

Hannah wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to give Knox a detailed description about the happenings within her small flat. Never before had she been one for sharing or hugging and the whole prospect of friendships were new to her. Bombay had always been a loner, preferring the company of the dead to that of the talkative living. She’d seen little point in human contact and the sharing of emotions between people. But this situation had forced her to change as she’d become scared and lonely, in need of the hairy shouting bear of a wizard.

But he gaffawed at her small unhomely home and Hannah stared plainly at him, thin blanket held tightly around her shoulders for a bit of warmth.

“Someone set fire to it, Knox.” Bombay calmly responded. “Someone put their wand through my letterbox and let the flames consume my home.” Not that it had been much of a home. The place had always been bare, showing little signs of life or the owner’s personality. Now it was a charcoaled, smoked mess that had been cleaned up as far as Hannah’s spell base would allow.

“It’s bigger than your shack, at least.” The witch tried protecting her own ego as she started to walk past Knox, down the corridor and into the small kitchen. Upon the worksurface the small ginger kitten wandered, goodness knows how he’d jumped that high when he still needed to be lifted onto the work surface. Hannah picked him up and held him close, glancing up at Knox. “Tea? My kettle isn’t ashes yet.”

"Yes, with lemon," was Knox's automatic response to being offered tea.  He'd followed her to the kitchen, still looking quite harrowed.  The floorboards below him creaked threateningly in the corridor, but the kitchen tiling was cracked but unharmed.  The rest of the kitchen showed signs of fire as well.  A cupboard near the door had been gutted, a chair whose wicker seat had been burned away. 

"Merlin..." he uttered hearing her matter-of-fact account at some vandal - potential murderer - casually setting fire to her home.  He didn't have to ask why this could have happened.  There'd been some horrible rumors going around that a werewolf was at St. Mungo's openly treating patients, their names had been in the paper regarding their appeal, and her engagement had stirred up bilious vomit as well.  She'd been targeted for being cursed, a thing she certainly couldn't help.

Knox felt guilty.  He'd not been victim to anything so severe.  He sadly realized his position, and perhaps his being a wizard, protected him from the worse. 

He didn't need to ask her why she didn't move.  He knew she had no friends and the fine had hit her harder than it had hit him. 

"Why didn't you say?" he asked as he stood opposite her.  He couldn't help but smile at the tiny orange kitten, still to liberal with his claws, holding tightly to Hannah's sweater, wanting to climb.

Lemon? Hannah frowned, gripping the kitten in her arms. What a strange request. Herbert’s legs stretched, trying to claw the warm scarf hanging around the witch’s neck as he struggled against her holding him. Every day he seemed to be getting more adventurous, larger and slightly less adorable. Deciding to get on with the strange request and her own tea, Hannah detatched herself from the kitten and handed him to Knox.

“I told you I was being harassed.” The statement was calm, quiet as Hannah shrugged her shoulders and pulled her wand from her pocket. She flicked it at the kettle and it started to boil. Next she pulled open the small fridge sat on the floor below her work surface. It was basically empty bar some steak and a carton of milk which she removed.

“No lemon.” She waved the carton at the much larger wizard. “I have milk. What most people drink in their tea.” Lemon?? Was he European? Certainly stranger than she’d thought.

As she started making the tea, Hannah decided to delve into the subject that seemed to interest Knox so much.
“It’s not that terrible. Most of the damage is aesthetic. There’s little point in bothering with it when there’s bigger things to think about. And I’m not engaged so you can forget the congratulations. It was crossed wands. As if anyone would marry a criminal werewolf.”

The kitten was tiny in Knox's big hands, and it's warm fuzzy little body was an immediate comfort. A  lively, tiny creature breathing in his palms.  He tucked the kitty deftly in the crook of his large arm and scritched its head with his thumb.  It tried to bite, but Knox's calloused skin was little match for him. 

Knox didn't care for milk, and he waved it away.  He'd taken up tea-with-lemon from one of his old aunties and he'd never thought twice about it.  And by now he was used to Hannah passive aggressively criticizing all manner of his choices and so he wasn't bothered by her statement of how one ought to take his tea.  There were, quite obviously, other things occupying his mind.

She sounded settled enough with what had happened, whereas he might have been a rampaging bull of anger had he been in her shoes.

"You haven't reported it?" he asked.  "Surely, there's something that can be done?"

Hannah nearly laughed. She turned on her heel to stare incredulously at Knox. Was the burly wizard actually being serious about such a question? Had he not been living their lives for the past year? Had he somehow mistaken what their entire court hearing and conviction had been about? They were nothing to the ministry but scapegoats to be made examples of. The ministry didn’t care about the repercussions of this on their victims. It cared about scaring other weres into submission, into behaving like good dogs.

And Knox still thought they would help.

Behind her the kettle began to boil but Hannah was more intrigued by Knox’s unwavering faith in the ministry and its ability to help them, to follow the law. She wasn’t sure if this faith was admirable or just plain pathetic. At least he still believed in something while she had lost most of her hope in the last months.

“What would be done, Greyfriar?” She leaned back against the work surface, folding her arms over the baggy blouse that hung loosely from her shoulders. “As far as your ministry are concerned, I deserve it.” A tiny, humourless smile twisted onto her lips. “At least it’s still nicer than a cell.” That much was no doubt down to personal perception.

Fortunately the kettle started whistling and Hannah turned back to attend to the drinks. She didn’t really want to keep looking at Knox. She didn’t want his pity and she really hadn’t wanted him to come over. It was bad enough Johann had seen the mess. But she’d always acted so high and mighty around Knox Greyfriar, putting him down most chances she got, insulting his home. Now what did she look like?

Knox looked up from under a raised eyebrow.  A disapproving but unsurprised expression for the ever-pessimistic, always voraciously vindictive Hannah Bombay.  In most company, it was Knox who was the rabble-rousing malcontent.  Funny that he should befriend a witch that made him look like a fellow in lock-step with The Man, a mindless happy drone.

"Arson on this scale is something they wouldn't dare overlook, no matter how controversial the victim," he told her firmly, but left it at that.  She'd made up her mind to wallow pathetically in her burnt up flat.  He'd let her do that.

"My my, you're going to be big someday aren't you? A big ol' Knox like me," he purred to the kitten in his arms who was gnawing on a button on his cuff.  Amazing little creature.  Why didn't he have a kitten at home?

“I wish that were true.” The boiling water was poured into two mugs, one with an added dash of milk, the other plain and bizarre. “Even if it was it’s not going to get my flat back to pristine condition. It would just create more angst and cost more money and I don’t have the energy or the money to throw at that. I can’t even afford to feed my cat today.” With a frown, Hannah lifted a mug up and offered it to Knox.

Her bright eyes settled warily on him as she decided to divulge some information. Despite her previous dislike of him and the regular insults directed at him, Hannah actually respected the wise older wizard in her kitchen. She’d never tell him this, of course. Yet here he was, showing some concern, something no one else really did.

“I had to go to Gringott’s yesterday. I’m somehow overdrawn. According to the discourteous witch that had my account details I transferred every last knut to an overseas bank. That didn’t happen but I have no way of proving it.” Her own tea was lifted from the counter and she took a small sip of the steaming liquid. “I don’t have enough money to pay my rent right now; I’m not really up to fighting the ministry for justice regarding my burnt home as well.”

Knox took the hot cup of tea, but set it down on the table to cool so he could continue to stroke the little kitty whose tail was lashing in feral interest of his imaginary quarry - the Abominable Button.  Fiesty little needle-tooth, he was.

And then Hannah did something she didn't do often - offer up extra information.  He glanced up at her with a look of mild surprise and concern.  Overdrawn? At Gringotts?  That was not a good place to be.  The goblins were fair but unflinching.  A witch or wizard who found themselves in debt to them could quickly find their problems growing with interest...

His first instinct was the one he went with - to try and help her.  "That is preposterous.  Sounds like there's been a fraud."

It was to the credit of their friendship that Knox instantly believed all that Hannah had told him.  It didn't cross his mind to ask more questions about how she managed her money, if she'd overlooked something.  He just knew she hadn't. 

"We'll find a way to get your rent settled until your next salary.  But clearly we've got to find who took your gold." 

It was, apparently, a 'we' problem now.  Whether Hannah had intended to ask him for help or not.  Perhaps that's what Hufflepuffs were for.  Even bellowing old ones.

Herbert looked to have taken to Knox very quickly. But he took to everyone that had come into her flat without a second’a hesitation, much unlike his suspicious and guarded owner. It took her a long time to warm to anyone and even longer, normally never to get so close. Yet Herbert eagerly waggled his little ginger tail, biting and swiping at the button of Knox’s shirt cuff, purring and growling in concentration at the same time. In a way, Hannah admired the fearless little kitty. She was improving but trusting people still proved difficult. Knox had dealt with a lot of her frustration before they’d even gotten close to where they stood now.

With her volunteering information about a problem.

But not for the sake of him trying to fix it. He’d said ‘we’, that they would find her galleons together. The witch’s brow furrowed in confusion and she shook her head, dark hair falling messily over her shoulders.

“No, no I’m not asking for your help or your money.” Hannah was somewhat baffled. Why would this wizard who had disagreed with her so often suddenly offer to help her? But she could have asked why he’d come around for a ‘visit’.

With the tea in her hand Hannah decided it was time to sit, to get out of the cramped kitchen with the large man to the slightly larger living space. In there she lowered herself onto the sofa and waited for Knox to join her.

“I’ve a suspect but no proof.” After her ‘sharing’, Hannah seemed ill-at-ease. “I’m just saying that’s why I’m not going crazy about my flat at the moment. Things have…got bigger.”

Knox sipped his tea, and with his attention diverted the kitten flailed and flung himself out of Knox's gentle grip to land awkwardly on the table between he and Hannah.  He pawed at a knot in the wood, and fell over onto his side in the fervor of an imaginary battle, tiny white claws out.  The kitten twisted about on the table before suddenly flipping right-side up and trotting to the edge.

Knox gently batted him back to the middle with his giant hand - an old burly wizard who couldn't resist the distraction of an adorable little kitten. 

But he was listening and realizing that what was happening between Hannah and him was new.  She'd shared a problem with him.  He'd offered to help. She'd turned him down.  And neither of them had yelled at each other, nor bellowed, nor taken it personally.

"What's in this tea?" he murmured, forgetting that the context of that statement had not been spoken outloud for Hannah to hear.

He did want to help her though.  Lend her some gold so she could have some peace of mind about keeping her flat.  There was something in him that was annoyed she didn't just take a gift from a friend in a hard time, but he realized he couldn't bully her into it.

"Mmm," he said, his mouth pursed closed, trying to hold his tongue.  But then he said, "Well, you let me know if there's anything I can do."

He didn't have to repeat to her the clout he had on Level Two, the connections he had being the former Headmaster of Hogwarts. 

He sipped his tea again, and checked his pocket watch.  "Merlin, is that that time already?  I'm meeting Devlin in the city.  Lunch." 

“I will.” The response was immediate, unconsidered. It hadn’t been so quick because Hannah planned on taking him up on his offer, that she would bother the older wizard if she needed any help. Instead she planned the opposite. All that tied her and Greyfriar was their experience. Which was now over. Yes he had come around to see her, to congratulate her on the engagement and yes she had hugged him tightly, the second human contact and sign of affection she’d willingly demonstrated towards him. Yet he didn’t really want to help her, it was out of polite courtesy he had offered, she understood that. So it was out of polite courtesy that she told him she would if needed. But she didn’t want to ever be in his debt. He no doubt thought lowly enough of her.

Despite her regular admonishions of Greyfriar’s position and influence, Hannah was more aware that society saw him very different to her. He was the former headmaster of Hogwarts, a Wizengamot Elder that had been in the wrong place and the wrong time and was accepting his punishment. His past and standing position meant that people still respected her. All they saw when looking at Hannah was someone unsuitable to have their lives in her hands. She was a rogue werewolf posing as a healer. But Knox couldn’t help that and she certainly didn’t want him feeling the need to pay her rent through guilt or something equally as unpleasant.

“Devlin?” She truly paid no attention to Knox’s private life. What he did was none of her concern and neither did she want it to be. “Well you should go. It was a wasted trip for you. I’m not engaged and neither do I need a burly knight in worn robes and a mangled beard to pay my rent and save me from my burnt flat.”

It took a firm look at Knox to prevent him from responding indignantly. Surely he knew her better than to change her mind. A few moments later the tea was half drained and the large wizard shuffled from the flat. Hannah wasted no time in closing the door behind him and leaning back against it, her eyes closed. Why had she even opened up to him? What had been the point? Now he just knew she was even weaker.