Sasha's stomach fluttered with anticipation, unease and even a little excitement as the gate clinked shut behind him.  There was no sign of movement on the far side of the gate, no indication that he'd been followed.  Not that he'd been expecting any.  The newest inhabitant of the Schlagenweit residence had shown little more than passing annoyance when Sasha had left a note in his care.  Hopefully, this Ryder bloke would take note if Sasha didn't return in the next day or so and would remember to pass the letter along to Professor Trishna.

It hadn't been an extensive letter and contained nothing beyond the vaguest of details, just in case curiosity (or boredom) got the better of Ryder and he opened the letter.  But, the sudden nature of the invitation meant there hadn't been time to tell Professor Trishna what was happening ahead of time.  He didn't expect it to come to that, though.  Despite all the conversations with Professor Trishna, Sasha still couldn't let go of the blind belief that, around Kronos, he was in no danger.  His associations with the man may put him in more danger when he was away from the man, but there were two places he'd grown to feel relatively secure: the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower and in Kronos' company.  Why did those two circumstances have to be mutually exclusive?

Turning his back to the driveway, Sasha opened the parchment envelope once more and tilted it so the small, silver sickle fell into his hand.  After murmuring the trigger word, some unknown force yanked Sasha from the quiet streets of Rickmansworth. 

When his feet once more touched solid, paved ground, Sasha found himself inundated with the sounds, smells and constant movement of the big city.  People milled about all around him and he was surrounded by highrises.  As the initial disorientation faded, Sasha started to recognize the familiar signs; he was in London.  Not too far from Hyde Park, if he wasn't mistaken.  He returned the sickle to the envelope and slipped the envelope in his pocket before climbing the stairs of the highrise behind him. 

The lift clanked to a stop at the top floor and opened, after Sasha identified himself.  The grin that greeted old man waiting on the far side of the lobby was, perhaps, a bit more genuine than it should have been.  Sasha hadn't forgotten the bigger picture nor any of his recent conversations but, in the moment, it felt like a homecoming.  A proper, enthusiastic homecoming. 

"Allo," Sasha offered as he stepped off the lift.  "This is much more modern than your usual style," he added, glancing around the lobby.

Kronos had coordinated his return to the United Kingdom with the Hogwarts Spring holidays for expressly this purpose, wasting no time in reconnecting with his Son.  It had been six long months since he had last seen Sasha in person, an excruciating gap in contact despite the frequency of letters sent.  Time had slipped by quickly in a flurry of transcontinental business, various tangential excursions peppered in along the way as he entertained every passing fancy and capitalized on his other investments.  He wasn't worried about it - the distance, the schooling; it was all progressing along fine and hadn't needed his attention, he was sure.  Sasha would be coming along nicely on his own, for the same reason a donkey with a stick behind him and a carrot in front always goes forwards, not backwards.[1]  But something about missing the opportunity for visits over Winter Holidays still bothered him, not having spoiled Sasha at his coming of age was troublesome, and though his friends in Tokyo had given him a fine 91st birthday celebration, Sasha's absence at such events was an annoyance. 

He had prepared for this moment.  He had many stories to tell.  Having Sasha by his flat in London now was not an accident, though it was obviously the most convenient home for him to run along to.  He had plans for Sasha, but he needed Sasha to have plans for himself.  For that, there was no better venue.  Now he could get Sasha involved in some of his business, hopefully.  He'd had the enchantments altered for the occasion, allowing Sasha to enter entirely of his own devices, where he would be shown in to the lobby, embellished with a giant swimming pool the center of which sat a magnificent fountain.  He would stride in confident and alert to his surroundings, which would then be the perfect reflection of his destiny, surrounded as he'd be by stoic and graceful marble statues of the beneficent Borghese Gladiator, Antinous, and Melpomene, to name a few. 

Kronos strode forward from the far end of the entrance room, his wide grin easily rivaling the magical light that emanated from a dimmed globe in the ceiling, little teeth shining bright as Sasha stepped off the lift, looking proud and tall and happy to be there, here, at a home he didn't know he already had.  The usually brilliant display was bolstered today by silver twinkling lights strung in an elaborate structure that webbed its way through the air, bouncing a gentle light off the all-white surroundings and giving the lobby a welcoming, evening glow.  Sasha was too right - apart from the templed aura it was quite modern.  Certainly more-so than any other place Sasha had seen. 

"Dear boy, - "

Kronos had ruminated over what his first words would have to be, on seeing his Son once again.  He gave it a moment's thought when the sound of his voice chimed off the angled walls and water.  'Dear boy' hadn't actually been a part of his musings, but on spotting Sasha it fluttered forth from his lips before he could even think.  Approaching Sasha, Kronos - who was benefiting from the aid of his favourite 'joint juice' and needn't a cane - clapped his hands together and moved them forward in a sentimental gesture, laughing merrily at Sasha's observation.

"Yes, welcome, welcome!  And you look lovely!  Do come in for a hug, I've missed you so."  He held his arms out invitingly, still grinning wide.  Behind him a giant Ukrainian Levkoy with blue hairless skin and curled ears sat coolly in not two inches of water, on the 'kitty side' of the swimming pool upon a long white stair, blinking at Sasha. 

"Oh there's lots to do, Sasha.  Oodles!  We'll go into the lounge, I should think," he said.  Kronos was over the moon with excitement but also very eager to dive into matters of business.  There was so much they needed to cover, what with six months between their last visit and Sasha soon to be back in school, he felt pressed to fit in as much as possible with this visit, even though his wish to delight Sasha with simple pleasures - a dip in the pool, a luxurious mealtime - was very difficult for him to ignore.  It was quick quick to business then, and perhaps there would be time for such comforts later.  If only Sasha could stay....

"This way dear," he said, then snapped his fingers and added happily over his shoulder, "Millicent will have your coat."

He led into a room off of the lobby, opposite the stairs.  They went in through a doorway between the long white couches that lined the wall, and into a sitting room with candelabra chandeliers.  Kronos strode in and over to the bar out of habit, a ritual way of starting any enterprise with the sound of liquid pouring over ice and crystalline glasses clinking.

"You're of age now of course - do you want a brandy or something of the sort?"  He raised a brow inviting mischief or maturity, he wasn't sure which.  Both.

1.	A line of dialogue spoken by Kronos's favourite character, Tony Wendice, in Hitchcock's Dial M for Murder, which has very compelling dialogue.

He couldn't speak from personal experience, of course, but looking upon the warm and welcoming features of Kronos Malvivicus felt as satisfying as any drug appeared to be to those addicts on television crime dramas.  Uninhibited joy and acceptance shone in the man's eyes and Sasha had to fight the temptation to lose himself in the belief that, in this moment and to this man, Sasha was good enough.  That man that greeted him was unabashedly proud to claim him.  Sasha could easily believe, unlike so many before, this man would neither leave him nor cast him aside.  Not unless Sasha asked him to.

Maybe not even then, if Professor Trishna was correct in the end.

Sasha wasn't going to let himself be lost; he knew he couldn't risk continuing blindly.  He still trusted that Kronos had the best intentions, in his own unconventional and questionable way; that much hadn't changed.  Sasha had long suspected that the old man had needed him just as much as Sasha had needed him.  Feeling important to someone - someone who held no obligation - had become part of Kronos' allure.  Sasha trusted he was safe.  But, somehow, despite his thick head, Professor Trishna's conversations had gotten through and Sasha wouldn't disregard them.  He was no longer foolish enough to think his world at large was secure.   Rash abandon or blatant disregard of the risks, on either side of the chess board, would lead to someone else getting hurt.  The fear of losing Kronos weighed as heavily on his mind as losing any of the others around him.

And, who knew.  Genetically, wasn't Sasha's own inherited moral compass a bit questionable already?  On either side of his family tree?  Sasha had been forced to claim Gerhard as his father for most of his life and his step-father had done far more to hurt him than Kronos had.  If Kronos really needed him, perhaps there was a chance he could change.

Whatever the justification, Sasha couldn't help but welcome the outpouring of approval and acceptance.  He accepted and returned the hug.  "It is good to be back," he offered, shrugging his blazer from his shoulders as Millicent approached to take it.  "It feels like it has been ages.  It seems like it has been a very long year."  Sasha had been delving deeper into preparations for the necromancy ritual the last time he'd been in Kronos' company. 

Sasha followed Kronos to the lounge, watching Kronos briefly as the man crossed the room to the bar before approaching the windows.  After so many carefully clandestine meetings in hidden and secluded locations, Kronos and London still felt like a peculiar juxtaposition.  Two realities that didn't seem like they should match.  Sasha leaned close to the window pane, peering straight down at a pair of spiky-haired teenagers crossing the street below.  "What's the rest of this building used for?" he asked, turning back towards Kronos once the pair of teenagers had disappeared around the corner. 

"You're of age now of course - do you want a brandy or something of the sort?"

"I am, aren't I?" Sasha took a seat in one of the armchairs, grinning to himself.  "I keep having to remind myself; it was a bit of a quiet affair.  It doesn't really feel official."  Given recent events at school, not one he'd wanted to draw attention to.  But, he shrugged and grinned, nodding his acceptance of the offer.  After all, brandy was essentially wine, was it not?  "I suppose it would be fitting.  Even though it won't really feel official until next year."   

"Claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy," said Kronos, consciously quoting Samuel Johnson with his usual irreverence for giving credit to random others where credit was due.[1]  He could have easily said, knowing the source as well as he knew the quip (verbatim).  But what did it really matter who first uttered those words in that particular order?  Perhaps the quote existed for no other purpose than to be spoken in this particular moment; that it was meant solely for Kronos's tongue and Sasha's ears was an attractive illusion. 

He stepped nearer to Sasha and handed him a glass, gently retracting it before giving polite instruction that brandy was best held still and not swirled, should he not know.  This was in a way his most important business in the world - passing on the subtle and fine tastes he had acquired through nothing but his own hard work and forward planning.  Salazar knew he wasn't born or brought up with it.  That was why it came first - no matter how pressing the other matters were, he couldn't help but feel like the devil was in these details, the brandy being a symbol to foster in Sasha some greater feeling of confidence and mastery, as he emerged from the chrysalis of his boyhood to become the most glamorous sort of man there could be: Kronos's Son.

He illustrated the rest, sitting daintily on the edge of the sofa and holding his own snifter aloft some inches below his nose.  He inhaled slowly and deeply.  Pausing, he gave his observations some consideration.  He sipped, allowing holes in the flavour to be filled in, olfactics to papillae.  "You were two years old when the apples were fermenting in Somerset,"[2] said Kronos with a smile.  "Can you taste the oak?"

Fluidly moving from this to a formerly ignored question he'd left hanging in the air, Kronos inclined his head.  "It's an interesting story if I don't say so myself; I should have to refrain from digging too deep into the details - well - ask me again over supper and I'll be obliged.  To put it shortly though Sasha, the shop below us is owned by a pair of brothers, Nicholas and Michael Wainwright, familial inheritors of the legendary Boodle and Dunthorpe brand.  Boodles?[3]  The jewelers?  We're on Bond Street, Sasha, of course you wouldn't tell that to a soul."  He drank his brandy, watching Sasha over the rim of its balloon, feeling smug, feeling safe in his assumptions.

"We opened this location in 2005," he continued, unable to stop himself from entertaining Sasha's curiosity and, frankly, showing off his greatest dare to the Ministry of Magic, a stone's throw away from Diagon Alley.  "I have to say - the enchantments containing our little nest here would compel your own magnificent mind toward fascination.  We built in a way so as not to interfere too noticeably with the myriad Muggle technologies that reasonably reign in this area, let alone to have it be undetected by others of our ilk; it isn't without it's quirks but it's worked for us so far, hasn't it.  Always helps to have some Muggles on our side as well," he winked, leaving the details of involvement with Muggles up to Sasha's imagination.  He was sure the question would come up eventually, and that was a lesson all its own. 

"Quite a tedious headache of a project, but that's what hired help is for.  With our kind of money lying about it pays to be adventurous, don't you think?  I had to have it.  London."  He sighed.  "Bond Street, Sasha!  We are in the midst of history.  We had some of the most elite workers set to the task; I'm quite proud of it's standing.  Still stealthy after nearly five years and still very much generating welcome revenue."  He raised his glass with his brows.  "I'm even more proud to say that it's all yours, all of it.  What is an empire without its heir?  And that does come with a tinsy bit of responsibility, but still, and if it pleases you dear, we can go shopping at Boodles after our swim this evening.  They make the most luxurious wrist watches.  Hard work must always be followed by hard play."

A bored grunt and jaded attitude emanated from the doorway.  Oh dear, well, it was time to halt this tangential train in its tracks, thought Kronos.  It was onto the next matter of business:  Sasha's gift. 

"Brunie," he said softly, ushering over the old German Witch who for the last few minutes had been standing in the doorway, big boned, tall, and clearly uncomfortable to be standing still.  She carried a clean white parcel with crisp corners, which seemed in danger of being crushed at any moment by her large hands.  As soon as she was called, she walked toward Sasha and stood over him, naturally imposing. 

"Our half-giant housekeeper," punctuated Kronos, perhaps unnecessarily, as a pair of weathered blue-green eyes stopped on Sasha strangely.  Her gaze was scrutinous, as though she were divining all the boy's secrets and forming judgments that would enjoy longevity within her first assessment.  But it was an air of ready loyalty that came through most of all, despite a certain edge of madness.

"Brunehilda, Herr Schlagenweit."  The volume of her voice matched her height.

The parcel that she held out to him now with a catty smirk was a white perfume box embellished with silver script, a French word meaning 'Leaf', LA FEUILLE.[4] 

"It has been a very long year, Sasha," commented Kronos.  "I certainly wouldn't want all of your hard work to go unnoticed.  Today will be all about rewards and catching up on our missed holidays, yes?  There's a fresh scent for the new season to start us off, I think it will be sweet on you, your verdant soul.  It's Miller Harris - have you ever been?  There's one right here in Mayfair.  It's just a little something."  He shrugged his shoulders, wetted his lips again on his brandy glass, and allowed Sasha a moment to examine his gift.  In the meanwhile, it was time for him to press forward.

He gave a somber look toward Sasha before continuing.  "Long year," he agreed, again.  "Now that we are on the tail end of it and with Summer coming, I'm hopeful that you will be ready to start taking on some special projects.  I have to say I'm curious what sort of business you're wanting to put your mind towards?"

1.	Samuel Johnson on Wikipedia.
2.	A 15 year old Alchemy cider brandy from the Somerset Cider Brandy Co. Ltd.
3.	Boodles history and heritage.
4.	Only a £155 luxury perfume by Miller Harris.

"That sounds very Anglo."  Sasha commented, with a slightly grin as he accepted the drink and peered down at the deep, rippling color in the bell of the glass.  "My Oma, at least, I imagine would say as much.  She likes pointing out all the ways we've been softened on this side of the channel.  One can a man - wait..."  There were some phrases one just always heard in one language.  Despite knowing both languages fluently, they still felt strange in translation.  "A man's worth can be measured by the number on the Stroh label.[1]  It's like drinking turpentine." 

He sipped the brandy, following Kronos' lead though taking care to only take a small sip.  Aside from the rum his grandmother would try to slip him at the holidays, he wasn't accustomed to alcohols beyond beer and wine.  He could, naturally, handle a full stein of beer but now was not the time to test his limits with harder spirits.  He was counting on the natural flow of the conversation to provide sufficient distraction to surreptitiously space out the rate of alcoholic consumption. 

When Kronos first explained their location and the building, Sasha scowled slightly as he experienced the disorientating feeling of recognizing the familiar in an entirely unexpected place.  Boodle and Dunthorpe were familiar names but, for the life of him, he couldn't remember why.  He'd been so focused on the wizarding world; it wasn't until Kronos mentioned the word "Muggles" that Sasha was able to place it.  Once he had, the connection was glaringly obvious.  "We're above Boodles?  The Muggle jewelers?  We used to come here regularly."  No wonder it had struck such a familiar tone.  Not only had it been one of Gerhard's frequent shopping destinations, but: "it was a source of much amusement for my sister.  She always asked if we were going to Boodle's.  The ... other Boodle's.[2].  The Muggles know you're here, then?  Or, do they think you're someone else?" 

"I'm even more proud to say that it's all yours, all of it.  What is an empire without its heir?  And that does come with a tinsy bit of responsibility, but still-"

Taking a sip of the brandy instantly became the distraction from the conversation and, as Sasha drank, he found himself wishing he had something less intoxicating to serve as a mental pause button.  Kronos' comment was met with a mixture of emotions far too complicated for the Ravenclaw to unravel.  Everything Professor Trishna had said came rushing back to the forefront but it was met, all too familiarly, by the warmth and security of acceptance.  The material worth behind the title 'heir' meant very little.  The empire Kronos was offering could have consisted of a little log cottage on a beach somewhere and it would have been sufficient.  It was the metaphorical declaration that he had a place ... he belonged somewhere that proved to be so addictive. 

For better or worse, the arrival of Brunehilda (or presentation, since she'd been there the entire time) afforded Sasha the opportunity to become distracted without responding or taking another drink.  "Danke," he replied, automatically switching to German as he set his glass down and took the gift. 

"Thank you," he offered, this time directed at Kronos as he opened the gift.  "It's - I haven't been but it's lovely.  Undoubtedly an improvement over my usual hay aroma." 

Then the conversation shifted decisively back to the topic he'd skirted just a moment ago.  The unknown division between what he wanted being Kronos' heir to mean and the truth of reality.  And, how close to the truth Professor Trishna's assumptions were.

What Sasha wouldn't give to have Professor X's mutant powers right that moment.  Being able to clandestinely read people's minds would be handy right about now.  He'd even settle for being able to pause the rest of the world around him; at least that would by him a few moments to think without revealing more than he should.  How honest was Kronos expecting him to be?  Did he really want to know Sasha's personal aspirations or was this one of those questions where Kronos was waiting to hear what he wanted? 

"I don't know," Sasha started slowly, keenly aware that the longer the pause lasted the more obvious the stall would become.  "I took my GCSEs and I have one more year before sitting NEWTs and A-Levels.  To be honest, I've really only limited myself to casual what ifs beyond that.  I'm not even sure where I'm physically going to be this summer.  Are you asking about long term plans or just this summer?  What kind of projects did you have in mind?" 

1.	An Austrian rum that comes in five varieties based on alcoholic content.
2.	Boodle's Gentleman's Club