2012 hours, Ground Floor


In a distracted hurry to descend from the Astronomy Tower, Raine had clean forgotten her shoes- which she habitually took off when they were sat at stargazing and charts for too long. The counselor's office was all the way downstairs and there simply hadn't been time to rush back for them.

Miss Biladeau-Yukawa greeted her just outside with natural cheer ("HELLO YOU LOOK LOVELY GOODBYE!") but she only managed a polite smile, cheeks coloured by the dash downstairs.

All sense of impatience dissipated as soon as the door swung open.

Sat on one of the chairs across from the counselor's desk, her aunt rather exuded such an effect on people. She stopped short and Maurice only barely slipped in before the door clicked close behind them. Then silence as the elder of them stood, dark circles under wan eyes and a gauntness that had never been quite so pronounced. Her pale brow was raised in a subtle, enquiring fashion.

"Aunt Ira."

Raine went to greet the other: hesitating only in the slightest before moving to tiptoes for an embrace. It was warmer than expected and she felt her aunt's arms, lean but soft, tighten reassuringly. A rich and heady perfume trailed in the air. When she managed to get over the surreality of seeing Ira here, it hit her.

"Oh. I've robbed you from somewhere." The Gryffindor took in the organza gown underneath the coat, the exaggerated jewellery. "Was it important? I'm so sorry."

Still, Raine could only feel gratitude. "Niet." Ira smiled down, fondly brushing a blonde lock from her niece's face. "Dull affair. Your papa, he said it was better if I leave to see you. Come, sit." There was no mention of why father had not come himself and she did not want to ask. "Your kind counselor has provided."

The rest of the room came into clarity now. Raine blinked, looking around at the cozily furnished office- the hot tea on the desk, accompanied by sweet biscuits. It was like a dream; warm and charming compared to the cold damp of the tower classroom. She took a seat on one of the spare chairs before looking back to Aunt Ira.

"I didn't mean to make anyone worry."[1] Her gaze met anxiously with that of the older Almasy, surprised to see such matching eyes staring back. There was something calmer in Ira's that she couldn't understand. "Are you... did you take the news alright?"

A dry, skeptical snort escaped. It was the most human thing she'd ever heard from her aunt.  "It is not my news, is it?" The witch leaned back as cups of tea bid themselves to each with little indication. "You fare better than your parents give credit."

Raine suspected there was some bravado in all this and, taking the tea, she felt Ira's appraising look. There was nothing unkind about it.

1.	Arthur Lemon's escape.

Ira was an old hand at this.

It had not taken long to deepen the shadows underneath her eyes and draw herself in, physically. The girl's distress wouldn't see past this: to her it would be an emotional disparity and not a bodily one. Tragedy became a kind blindness.

"You fare better than your parents give credit." Ira took the tea placidly, watching her niece over the rim.

A loosely braided mane fell wildly down to the strong shoulders, pinned together by silken ribbon and a stray eagle's feather. Somehow she had managed to come without shoes. Reinka stared back with a light in her eyes that glimmered tired, hungry for something she couldn't name.

"I suppose -" the younger witch replied. "- because it wouldn't do to... you know."

Da. It wouldn't do to cry. That would be trite: an expectation every woman fought against in trial and adversity. Ira lowered the china with a gentle clink, jaw tight while she regarded Raine. The facade was held together by sheer force of discipline. It would have been admirable if it weren't so useless. Restraint only inhibited progress.

"Listen." Her voice dropped a timbre, sharp. "Reinka. You must do whatever is necessary, you understand?" Ira reached across to take her niece's free hand, which was unusually warm. "What they think is irrelevant and what you feel, that is everything."

Raine stared back. She acknowledged the cool hand on her own, and heard the stony voice oozing with strange advice. For some reason she couldn't think of what to say. Nothing seemed right. A little bit of tea was drunk and the office clock ticked away. An air of gratitude held itself between them. Ira, who had not in fact torn herself from any engagement, smiled.

They would stay comfortable in silence until the counselor returned.

---

Miss Biladeau-Yukawa was waiting outside the Castle doors, having left the two Almasys again to say their farewells.

Raine followed her aunt out of the office, door clicking behind them as the other  turned around with a quizzical expression. It didn't look quite right on the usually remote face. "You don't desire to come home?" The tone was matter-of-fact though it caught her off guard. Home was the last place she would want to be, with Mama and Papa fussing over the bloody papers.

"No. I don't think I'd like that." They began to walk across the hall towards the great doors- the Gryffindor looking quite bizarre next to her prolific, collected relative. "Better to keep busy."

Ira nodded sagely before adding, in a deliberating tone: "Niet, not to your parents. You are welcome in Tyumen. It is also your home..." she trailed off meaningfully. Raine was surprised to hear it. Her father was a clan bastard, she had only been to Russia as a child.

Closer to the entrance, the pair stopped "Tyumen. To hunt wolves?"[1] she raised an eyebrow and cracked her first genuine smile since Monday, remembering the secret they shared- the twins, their aunt. "We have those in the Forbidden Forest as well, you know."

Tyotia[2] glanced down absently, confused. "Wolves?" The icy eyes held this bemusement for only a moment, and than her brow cleared; she laughed. Its echo leapt around the entrance hall and skittered up the stairwell like a bell. Raine opened her mouth, about to say something, but Ira reached behind her crown to bring it forward. She placed a kiss against the feverish temple.

It was a cool, comforting kiss.

"Not wolves, little one. What sport is there in that?" The elder Almasy spoke in Russian, somehow capable of being compassionate and patronising at the same time. "Werewolves. Don't forget your shoes." The hall doors were ajar, a chilly wind blowing in.

And then her aunt was gone, the doors shut. Raine felt hollow.

1.	Pensieve reference.
2.	Russian, Aunt