In the early evening after her last afternoon class, Aileen had lingered in the castle, fielding owls from her younger sister about the girl's scheme for Sasha tomorrow. Aileen couldn't believe what she was being asked to do to her classroom. But she did it anyway, pushing her growing concerns to the back of her mind.

Aileen shut the door to her office and looked up, considering. She'd never been one to go out of her way or even casually make an effort for someone else - she'd never needed to be. The few good friends she had came to her. As of late, she couldn't help but feel a slight shift in priorities. She remembered last spring, when a certain astronomy professor had reached out to her to commiserate about Trevelyan's pushiness. Of course, they'd had a common issue, of sorts, and had had something to gain from being pleasant to one another. It still surprised her that he'd checked in on her that day. And to think of how things had changed since then. Perhaps she was not one of his closest friends or confidantes, but he was one of hers (much to her private embarrassment).

After making a stop at the kitchens, Aileen began the long trek up to the Astronomy tower, mentally ticking off any reasons she could think of to go up there. There was Abby and Sasha. There was this weekend. She could talk about Georgiana's performance in Runes - or compliment Georgiana's performance in Runes, rather. She kept these things in mind, just in case Tapendra wondered and all she could think was I don't know.

She knocked, then entered the room, relieved to find Tapendra alone and entrenched in a scholarly fort of papers. On a Friday evening. Not that she could talk.

"Oh, good. You're not busy," she teased, finding an empty seat near him and plopping into it. Well, as much as Aileen could plop.

She smirked at him, resting her chin in her hand as she gestured in his direction, "Do continue."

Aileen bent slightly when Kneph, the strange puppy that she and Tapendra shared, crept by her feet and nudged her legs. She'd sent the creature up to Tapendra earlier, unable to stand the confused wrinkles forming on the puppy's forehead as she'd charmed her classroom according to Abby's wacky wishes. He'd been mocking her! Mocking her with his cute head tilt.

"I should warn you that a house elf will be popping in soon. With wine, if you'd like any to prepare for the weekend."

Aileen said 'weekend' with the same dire, resigned tone that she used for 'holidays' and 'family visits'. To her, Valentine's Day meant bothersome owls, her mother piling on the guilt, and her sister's mischievous scheming.

She scratched Kneph behind the ears as he rested his snout on her knee, blinking up at her with knowing eyes.

Tapendra sat on the floor of the tower, the star patterns making the light shift, papers and notes spread in a semi-circle around him. Boxes sat on the desks nearby, and Kepler – ever the helpful one – had made himself a nest in the paperwork at Tapendra’s side. The subject of his mess was mundane – grading student essays was always a bit of a chore, even if he did enjoy reading most of them.

The owl post had brought with it another Howler. He’d gotten them less and less as the year turned into…well, years. But still they came, and he’d tried to avoid listening to them after a while, much as he’d given up writing back.

The red letter sat stuffed in his desk. He’d have to dispose of it when he got the chance, but with inevitable chaos of the holiday weekend, getting his work done now took some priority.

The knock came as a surprise – people usually didn’t bother with that – and he turned on the floor as Aileen entered, his expression openly surprised. This time of night was one where little occurred, generally speaking. Everyone was studying or relaxing; the students unwound a bit before making their way to bed.

The Runes professor looked fashionable as always, and he smiled, brightly and briefly.

“Just taking some time off to brush up on a few improperly cited essays.” Not that she was utterly free from the wonders of student essays, admittedly – at least her pupils wanted to be there and at least tried to understand the subject.

He was a bit surprised at the offer of wine, and turned to look at her more fully, scooting so he faced her on the floor with the essay still in hand. Valentine’s Day wasn’t a date he particularly dreaded…he just preferred to avoid it.

“Chin up – at least we don’t have Lockheart around to make the place festive, right?” Jowd might try, though – Merlin forbid. No, his biggest worry was with Cyhirae and her…friend of the boyish persuasion. Pepper was a good kid, a bit thick admittedly, and Tapendra had a hard time being upset at him for existing. But even so…

“Thank you for the wine, though,” he said, with a snort. “I may need it, when these are done. One of these essays is from Oliver, you know,” he added, the emphasis and dread in his voice rather exaggerated.

The desk started to shake. There was a cracking sound as wood splintered, and then a cloud of shredded paperwork and shards of wood burst out, followed by a shrill and familiar voice.

At first, the words were jumbled, cut off as if the Howler were attempting to straighten itself out, but they soon resolved into something a bit more coherent. "-HER SAFETY! HAD YOU ANY HONOR, YOU WOULD NEVER HAVE ALLOWED-"

It sputtered, coughing out another cloud, one tainted by a bit of exploded ink, then started again. "BUT WHO COULD EXPECT SOMEONE WITH SUCH TAINTED BLOOD TO COMPREHEND CHIVALRY! WILL YOU NEVER CEASE TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF MY POOR, BELEAGUERED DAUGHTER! I CANNOT UNDERSTAND WHAT MADNESS POSSESSED THEM TO EVEN ALLOW YOU IN A BOX AT SUCH AN EVENT?"

If letters could have glared, this one would have, but as it was it simply laid there softly hissing something about Muggles.

Tapendra's surprised but casual welcome relaxed her, making her question why she'd bothered to think of reasons to see him. Apparently that's just what people did - despite the number of stairs leading to his tower. She could understand why.

Aileen smirked back at his snarky commentary. "I'm so thankful Lockhart wasn't a Slytherin. Come to think of it, his festive nature never would have survived."

Now they just had to contend with Kesali. Which was one major reason why she was staying far, far away from anything resembling dance lessons this weekend.

"Oliver?" She touched a hand to her heart, mirroring his exaggerated woe. "I'd better ask for another bottle, then."

Looking amused, she glanced at the parchment, feeling more sympathy for the professor who had to mark it up than the student who had turned it in. She'd met Winifred Oliver. The Hufflepuff made Sellaphix look thoughtful and calm.

She left him to the paper for another moment or two, listening to the quill move across the page and the wind press against the windows. A strange rattle sounded off to the side, but she didn't quite hear it. The Sha, however, lifted his head and perked his ears, suddenly alert.

Aileen raised her eyebrows at the puppy, wondering what had caught his attention.

When Tapendra pushed his glasses up and set the paper aside, Aileen glanced at him, a faint smile growing on her face.

"You'll never guess-"

He never got the chance!

The desk exploded. Well, not quite. Aileen jumped to her feet, about to reach for the Sha, only to find that Kneph was already blinking at the chaos from a safe distance.

Her gaze locked on Tapendra, eyes widening as her mother's familiar shrieking filled the room!

For a second she thought the howler must be directed toward her, that the owl had sneaked in here somehow to humiliate her, which was bad enough. Yet... whose safety? Taking advantage? Oh.

Aileen's hand flew to her mouth as she stood frozen, much like the beleaguered damsels of old. It was only toward the end of the rant that she realized what Cullodena was referring to. The opera. That must be it. Cullodena's priorities in the face of tragedy never ceased to amaze her.

The hisses began to die down and Aileen's hand fell back to her side. The house elf chose that time to pop in, taking one look around the room and popping out again faster than she'd ever seen. At least he left the wine and glasses on a bare patch of floor.

"Tapendra," Aileen managed in a distant voice. "Did you just hear what I heard?"

She glanced around, denial reflecting in her eyes. Yes, the desk had shattered all around them. Her ears were ringing. But there were pieces that didn't fit, things that didn't make sense.

"Am I finally losing it?"

Surely, if this had really happened, he'd be just as horrified and shocked as she was!

“Really? He’d have been a great Head of House, don’t you think?” His grin was a tad cheeky, though he didn’t look fully up – just glanced up at Aileen over the rims of his glasses, blue eyes warm with amusement.

He made a final few marks on Oliver’s paper – in red ink, of course – and was setting it aside when the room rather abruptly changed.

Tapendra barely had time to blink or think much. The casual atmosphere evaporated as his desk shook and splintered in an instant, papers blowing about in the howler’s wake, large shards of wood falling down the short flight of stairs to the tower floor. The desk shuddered and slumped onto its side slightly, sending the papers and items atop the desk to the floor with a cascading sort of crash.

The shrieks of the Howler made the noise something of a cacophony for a moment, as Kepler’s loud yowl of alarm filled the tower and Aileen grabbed for the puppy.

He leapt to his feet in those heady moments, having a hard time processing – the bloody howler, Merlin’s pants, he’s forgotten it – and then he could do little more than stand and listen to the Howler’s slightly garbled and hysterical message. Letters from Cullodena Reid were usually of a typical faire, though this one was a tad more vitriolic than usual.

The Howler quieted down, finally, eventually puffing away into ash. He watched the pieces drift to the floor, still processing the event as adrenalin rushed through his veins. He got howlers – it had become a fact of life. Only a few had actually exploded, though, and this wasn’t the first desk he’d lost to forgetting the things or not noticing them.
They just usually didn’t show up with others around…especially not the relatives of the sender.

Beginning to feel more embarrassed and annoyed than anything, he approached the wreck of his desk. As he stepped towards it, a half-full coffee cup finally gave in and fell over, drenching some of the paper stack.

“Damn,” he said, picking up the cup. He’d just cleaned out the desk the week before, and the Howler had probably severely dented his stash of sweets. 

In the privacy of his own mind, he called Cullodena Reid a rather unkind name. Only Aileen’s presence kept his lips sealed. Bloody old bat -

Aileen’s distant voice cut through the booming silence, and Tapendra looked at her with a bit of surprise. He wasn’t sure what he’d have expected, but questioning her sanity wasn’t what he’d have thought of.

“Er – unless we’re both hallucinating that my desk’s a wreck, then no, I’d say you’re sane.” He nudged the broken wood with his bare foot for emphasis. A bit of it went clunk, pointedly.

Did he mention the howlers weren’t uncommon? Exactly how did one mention that – casually? Calmly? He didn’t like them, but it was one of the reasons he was good at imitating the Reid matron, that was for sure…

The denial on her face didn’t help, and he looked back to the desk, unsure of what to say. Frankly, it was hard to find something nice to say – too easy was the sarcastic quip, the ode to how delicately Cullodena danced around the term mudblood.

“Sorry,” he said, finally. “I meant to toss that out earlier. Must have lost track of time with the bloody papers.”

Aileen’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as Tapendra frowned over the pieces of his ruined desk. He shot her no embarrassed glances, asked her no questions as to whose wrath he had just incurred. He had simply meant to toss the Howler out.

There could only be one explanation. And no, she wasn’t losing her mind. Yet.

Sucking in a breath, her denial began to morph into a jumble of emotions as she abruptly moved away and looked the Sha over for any splinters. The animal seemed fine, watching her when she took a few deep breaths.

With stiff movements, Aileen turned around and began helping him pick up his things. She didn’t trust herself to wave a wand right now, or to look at Tapendra without glaring. Only one person deserved her ire.

Her meddling, insulting, ridiculous mother! How could she?

“Has she been sending you these since the opera?” Aileen spoke curtly, finding a red remnant within the stack of coffee-stained parchment. She straightened and held the scrap of Howler between her thumb and forefinger, staring at it with a gaze that only seemed to intensify the smoke.

Aileen seemed annoyed, more than anything, and Tapendra wasn’t sure what to do with that – annoyance wasn’t what he would have expected, really. She was annoyed at him, he suspected, and so he kept quiet for several long moments, carefully moving paper out of the way of the broken leg and gathering pieces of wood. A quick repairo spell got the process of reconstructing the broken portions of the desk underway, and it was at this task that he worked as Aileen finally spoke.

The answer was a complex one, and so Tapendra – after staying quiet a few moments – answered with simple honesty.
 
“No,” he said. He kept emotion from his tone. The year or so he’d been here had let him become accustomed to the howlers and letters of protest; they’d been thick on the ground in the first few months, but thankfully had thinned out…somewhat. Now it was mostly parents of first years.

“I can’t remember her first one,” he admitted, having tried to think of it. “It was in January sometime. Last year, I mean. I get about one a month from her.” He picked up a particularly large piece of wood, slotting it into the wound in the desk. “This one was angrier than usual, though.”

He sniffed, and smiled very slightly - not humorously or warmly. "I did write back once or twice. Didn't do much good, I'm afraid."

Aileen finally looked at Tapendra as his silence stretched on, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Ah. So her mother had been - Merlin!

Last January?!

That meant her mother must have been criticizing him over the way he taught his classes, since Aileen and Tapendra hadn't even been friends then. Aileen could only hope that Cullodena's rants had become more... personal in the past month or so, and that they hadn't been going on since, say, October. Or the summer.

She shook her head, able to imagine it: Tapendra taking the time to write back and explain himself, and Cullodena responding with a flurry of new accusations.

"I can't believe her!" Aileen burst out, taking a few paces around the room as the pieces fit together in her mind.

"Actually, I can. This is exactly the type of nonsense she would pull - of all the ridiculous things!" Aileen gestured at him, certain he understood, and interpreting his quietness as embarrassment or resignation. She couldn't really blame him for not telling her. Part of Aileen wished she didn't know and could crawl back into her lovely hole of denial.

"Since last January," she went on. "She doesn't even have children at Hogwarts anymore! What does she care what or how you teach?"

Aileen put her hands on her hips, pursing her mouth.

Aileen was off, pacing, and Tapendra let her be as she worked things out. He was somewhat pleasantly surprised that she seemed angry at her mother – he wasn’t sure what he might have been expecting, however. Still, it was…well, kind of nice. It certainly helped pull him from his own annoyance.

He turned and sat by the ruins of his desk as she paced, chin propped up on one of his hands. It was not a good or a funny situation, certainly, but it was difficult not to try and find the humor in it. It had been his coping mechanism, after the year or so.

And it was so terribly easy to snark at Cullodena Reid, unfortunately.

“Oh, but Aileen,” he said, unable to stop himself. His tone was at first dispassionate, but the essence of it betrayed sarcasm. “Don’t you see? By teaching students the molecular makeup of a star, I’m corrupting them. Warping their innocent, susceptible little minds towards muggle values. Naturally, my decision to do that stems from my muggle blood. If only the Snatchers had done their jobs!”

The last line he added bitterly, and he paused. “Sorry, that last bit was from someone else’s howler, I think.”

He rubbed his face. “Sorry. I’m sure she’s fine at home, just…” He trailed off and shrugged, picking up a piece of wood after a moment. He really wasn’t sure what to say – or rather, what was appropriate to say.

Aileen let out a short laugh - it wasn't a nice laugh, full of bitter amusement, but out it came anyway.

"No, I'm afraid not. She's much worse in person. Sorry," she added, subconsciously adopting his habit of apologizing, and then looking slightly confused by that.

At the very least, thank Merlin her mother had not been the one to make a comment about Snatchers. She had a modicum of decency, though Aileen was still fuming at her. And she was beginning to realize what Tapendra had to put up with from parents on a regular basis. Imagine ten Cullodenas pestering him... how did he keep his sanity?

"Clearly, you're not expanding their education or introducing new, modern concepts so that they may have a fuller understanding of the subject. No! It's all a conspiracy to muddle their impressionable minds," she joined in, coming to a stop near him and crossing her arms.

"It's not as if you're valued and respected here, either. You just sit in your tower, all alone, day in and day out, and the students run to Storm whenever they have personal problems, or the ever-changing Head of Hufflepuff with career questions."

Aileen rolled her eyes up, shaking her head.

That was about the first time he’d heard ‘sorry’ coming from Aileen, and he wasn’t sure what surprised him more – the apology, or the admission that banshee-like shrieking was normal for her mother.

Somehow that explained quite a lot. It wasn’t difficult to imagine school-age Aileen as the offspring of the shrieking howlers; they certainly echoed many of the sentiments the younger Reid had once held, if in a somewhat more aggressive manner.

“Oh,” he said, unsure of what to say to that admission. Did he say sorry again? They’d tossed the word around quite a bit as it was, but – well – having a mother like that was something he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

What she said after that surprised him into silence, however. She didn’t really compliment him – directly or indirectly – ever. Not many people did, really, and that made it all the more surprising to hear it from her.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly. “Something like that,” he added, and couldn’t help but smirk. “Admittedly, she might not be the only one that thinks I stay in the tower like some lurking spectre of muggleness. Kesali made a few comments along those lines, too.” He cupped his chin, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“I’d ponder that they’ve been conspiring, but I think they’d just kill each other, honestly.” He shook his head, looking up at her.

“Is she like that to you?” The question was innocent enough in tone, and came almost unbidden – but with her bitter laughter, he couldn’t help but want to know.

Aileen was beginning to pick up on Tapendra's subdued behavior, and in a strange way, it calmed her down. The sarcastic humor back and forth had helped somewhat too, though she still felt frazzled and angry for him. So angry, that she was being less careful with her thoughts and opinions than she would be otherwise. It did not occur to her, in this moment, how rarely she let her good opinion of him show.

"Oh, Kesali is a lurking spectre of madness," she scoffed, annoyed at the Charms professor's hypocrisy. He couldn't even get along with the other staff, but he criticized Tapendra?

At his question, she glanced at him in surprise, and took a moment to brush debris off the chair. Aileen sat, curling her legs up on the seat so she could turn and look at him. No way was she sitting on the floor (undignified).

"Of course," she waved her hand in the air. "She's either shrieking, glaring at me in disapproval, or concocting some drama so that she can fake a hysterical fit and faint on the couch," Aileen said dryly. "I could repeat her lectures word for word, but I won't subject you to that. I'm sure you've heard enough."

She fell quiet for a moment, her mind straying back to the accusations she conveniently hadn't mentioned. The ones about the opera, the ones that had truly embarrassed her, and she suspected embarrassed him as well.

Some trace of emotion flitted over her face. "I do apologize," she met his eyes, the distance from the chair and his spot by the desk making it easier to say. "I had no idea she's been making your life so hellish."

Aileen gave him a slight look. He could have told her.

Tapendra couldn’t help but laugh at her description of Kesali. It was a fairly apt one, at least as far as the man’s behavior was concerned – though he seemed to have calmed down somewhat in recent months. That was good, at least.
She sat again, and he watched her as she answered – and the image she painted was not a good one. Somehow that explained a bit more than he’d like; both about Aileen and about Abby. Somehow it explained Abby more.

“She sounds like a wonderful woman,” he said, finally. Like many a pureblood parent, really. He looked at Aileen again – had fate been different, would she have turned out like that?

He hoped not. He rather preferred the icy, intelligent woman who sat across from him now than the shrieking harpy-in-training she’d been a decade ago.

“Don’t apologize,” he said finally. “It’s not too bad. I just ignore it, nowadays.” He shrugged, folding his hands together on his raised knees. “It got to me at first,” he admitted, after a moment, his tone a bit more quiet. “But everyone passed their OWLs and the children seem…interested, I suppose. So it doesn’t bother me much anymore. I just toss the letters out-“ He waved at his desk and grinned, sheepishly.

“Or I forget about them and it turns out like this.”

A 'wonderful' woman. Aileen was relieved Tapendra left it at that. As much as Cullodena infuriated her and must infuriate anyone who received her howlers, Aileen never quite felt comfortable snarking about her with non-family members.

Her mouth began to curve up for a second when he smiled, then fell back into a more pensive expression. The discomfort and anger she felt over her mother's howler would likely linger for some time.

"Never a quiet moment," she quirked an eyebrow at the state of the room, gaze passing over the wine she'd told the house elf to bring up.

Aileen glanced at him, speaking with a rare sort of frank quietness, "If you weren't doing your job, parents wouldn't make a peep."

A shadow in the corner caught her attention. She watched the Sha weave around the remaining debris, sticking his nose under the chunks of wood until he pulled out a half-exploded candy bar. Hopping to her feet again, Aileen took it out of his mouth and glanced around for a rubbish bin.

"The students are going to grow up someday, and they'll have your perspective to draw from. Even if they choose to ignore it, or disagree, at least they can say they learned. They listened," she gestured with the candy bar.

"I doubt their parents can say the same. Merlin forbid they read one of your books before..."

Aileen frowned, "Tapendra, where is that bin?"

“It’s Hogwarts,” he admitted, with a wry smile. “If you want dull, you’re in entirely the wrong place.” He rather doubted parents would be silent if he wasn’t doing his job, of course; just his history would have been enough, he suspected. It was every day you got a post-Cambridge professor, and someone would have objected. Just not as many…or as virulently.

Still, the strange fact Aileen was sort of complimenting him remained, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it, really. He finally decided he didn’t have to do anything, at least right away. He could just enjoy it, right? Even if it was...well, odd of her.

Were the circumstances different he’d have wondered if she was setting him up for something.

“My books aren’t exactly an easy read, mind you,” he said, with a laugh. “Maybe if they got the kid’s ones.” Trying to explain things to wizards was difficult, and his style of writing was not, he suspected, particularly gripping. There was a reason the drabbles that might one day turn into a novel were hidden away, full of red ink, and generally a bit of a lost cause.

He watched her gesture with the candy bar, pace the room, and generally be looking for something. When she did ask where the bin was, he bit on the urge to tell her he flung all his trash off the tower.

“It is – was – under my desk.” He looked over his shoulder at the ruined desk, rather pointedly. “I suspect it’s still there. Just – put it on a desk or something, I’ll have a house elf take care of it-“

He got to his feet, walking to the wine and having to carefully pick his way across the floor. The bottle and glasses sat where the elf had left them, and he picked up the bottle to have a look at it.

“’76. Not a bad year,” he said, mostly to himself, before he looked up at her. “Still want some of this, by chance?”