Continuing our Beatles theme this relates to an incident the night before.

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Four months of 'pleasant' and 'professional' interactions between Ignan and Tapendra had passed since the ugly argument in January. The two Professors who had once been unexpected but close friends for the year had been split apart and unable to see eye to eye over an issue of family. It turned out that Ignan was rather good at keeping grudges. It hadn't gone entirely unnoticed by their mutual colleagues, but with Tapendra spending increasing amounts of time away from the castle when he could, the chance of them crossing paths was reducing, added to the fact Trishna did not always attend meals in the great hall.

But being Head of Ravenclaw their paths did have to cross for all manner of odd reasons, and in which case Ignan would not entertain niceties, and instead had implemented the cold shoulder rather than swallow his pride. In between times he'd been busy what with turning sheep inside-out for the auror office, everything with Hogwarts, buying a house, and making his own enquiries where he felt safe to about that Malvivicus name.

It was not long before afternoon lessons, and Ignan climbed the stairs to the Astronomy tower. There were more of the stairs than he remembered from his last ascent, which could have just been his perception, or being Hogwarts, might have been the reality where steps disappeared according to what day of the week it was. There were a couple of reasons to make the trip, one official one, to allow him to bid a retreat if he chickened out on the more social matter, so to say. This was Miranda's doing - not that she was any the wiser. An offhand comment about friends and colleagues when they'd locked themselves in his office and pretended not to be there the other night had struck a guilty chord somewhere, and he'd stared at the ceiling of his chambers in bed for a long hour unable to put it aside.

A smart knock at the classroom door announced his arrival, not before he checked for lingering students. He cleared his throat as he stepped inside - Trishna on the tip of his tongue, rather formal in greeting as he would another colleague he didn't consider to be familiar with, but on making eye contact, he swallowed it and changed his mind.
"Tapendra." There was an awkward pause, being the first time he'd used the wizard's first name in months. It was almost as if he was out of practice.

Business, Ignan, business first, he thought to himself, and the pause looked mighty awkward from outside.

"Jai Patil." He stated, "I know he's not a Ravenclaw, but he's ... fond of you, what with the Astronomy club," he gestured generally with both hands to the classroom around them. "I caught him and Dimbleby out after curfew last night, which was surprising, neither of them usually step a toe out of line." Ignan slid his hands into his suit trouser pockets and looked away out to the sky that could be seen through the windows.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, and then glanced back hurriedly on realising how that sounded, "with Patil, from your perspective? I mean, it's clear he's having fun with Dimbleby but if it's a distraction, I've plenty of detentions available to enforce some focused revision."

It was strange how things changed so suddenly. Like the older man, Tapendra was good at keeping grudges; he was also good at withdrawing when stressed, and stress seemed a bit too common around the castle these days for his like. He didn't know what to tell Ignan - the man's anger and upset at him was justified, simple as that. But acknowledging that didn't make it better, nor did apologizing, and he couldn't change the past.

He'd settled for twisting between indifference, anger, hurt, and fear. Amazingly that hadn't fixed things either. Alcohol helped somewhat, cigarettes took the edge off. As did throwing himself into his work. But it hadn't changed things, just made them...distant.

When the older man appeared he was mildly surprised, but watched him from where he stood by the globe, an eyebrow raised. Hearing Ignan say his name was...well, it was nice. And confusing, because Ignan's topic was entirely businesslike.

"Ignan," he said in return. His tone was mild.

He watched the older man speak, rather more confused now, as Ignan's words and tone contrasted each other. But Ignan wasn't the sort you pried at unless he was open to it, and he couldn't judge the man's mood. Especially now. Months ago he'd have been braver. As it was, he didn't want an idle comment to drive the wedge deeper.

Patil and Dimbleby, though. He smiled very very slightly. Good on you, Patil. Dimbleby was a nice girl, smart, good looking, the whole package. Not the sort he'd have pegged as wanting to get caught outdoors with a boy like Patil, though.

"As far as I know, yes. He's not seemed out of sorts." He tilted his head. "Perhaps slightly happier than he was a few months back. Why?" His gaze was warm, curious - and careful. "What were they doing out after curfew?"

There was the hint of a smile on Trishna's face. Perhaps he found it sweet, or found amusement in Ignan asking.

"What were they doing out after curfew?"

"Enjoying themselves." Ignan replied, with the punctuation illustrated by his fingers. He shook his head, "no, I didn't enquire too heavily, and I could have taken more points, but their expressions and the horror at being caught were enough to convey my disappointment."

In the back of his head he felt as if his response was towards the more familiar relationship the two of them had before they had fallen out and he felt awkward for automatically responding as such.
"I am glad Dimbleby is no distraction in which case." He agreed. "As long as they do not decide to part company just before or during their exams."

There was a pregnant pause. Ignan's head was considering leaving there and then, but his feet were rooted to the spot. His hands slipped from his pockets and he folded his arms. Tapendra would realise, if he hadn't already, that Ignan really didn't give much of a damn about whether Patil's romantic relationship with Dimbleby got in the way, unless it meant that Ignan's NEWT results for his students suffered.

"You've been away a lot lately." He remarked, though was unable to make eye contact. His comment was more that he'd noticed, even if they hadn't been talking, and in a roundabout way, cared.

He nodded, mutely, his fingers sliding between the sheets of paper before him. It was an idle task, one that drew his eye and helped fill the awkward silence that followed Ignan’s explanation.  It was clear to him that Ignan had something else to say, or maybe something he wanted Tapendra to say.

And a great part of him did want to apologise - that weaker, spineless part of him that wanted to throw himself at Ignan’s metaphorical feet and beg his forgiveness for disagreeing with him. But he knew the apology wasn’t a true one. He didn’t like disagreeing with Ignan, but on what they’d argued about he wasn’t going to change his mind - but on what he’d made Ignan mad over in the first place, he was entirely at fault. It left him unsure what to do.

He’d come to rely on Ignan quite a bit this last year, he’d realized. The vacant spot in his psyche the man normally occupied was a gaping hole now, one he was currently filling with...well, he wasn’t filling it at all, was he? He was distracting himself from the fact it existed.

“I’ve been in London,” he said, not making eye contact either - but looking at Ignan sideways, briefly, without turning his head. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “There’s a club there I like.”

Tapendra wouldn't meet his eyes either, both of them were as uncomfortable as the other, but somehow persisted with this stilted conversation. It had been such a while since they'd fallen out that the anger was stale, and the reasoning somewhat weaker.

"Oh, social matters." Ignan remarked all too quickly. His look and tone conveyed a sense that escaping the castle as a Head of House to attend a club was altogether trivial and almost considered absconding duties.

He cleared his throat gently and looked up,
"I had wondered if there was some serious matter that kept you away from here all of a sudden." At the comment he finally made eye contact, directly staring across the room at Tapendra, examining his reaction.

Ignan's 'social' time had been filled lately with turning sheep and cattle inside out, asking questions about Malvivicus as far as he dared, doing up a house and very recently, spending time with Miranda Elliot, not that his colleagues were aware. These seemed altogether more worthy than a 'club'.

"Or that you were avoiding something."

He met his gaze, but it was difficult, every muscle in his body fighting to break the eye contact. His full lips set into a line at the man’s words; he wasn’t about to reveal the sort of social matters he was finding himself up to, but for Ignan to dismiss it as trivial annoyed him. As if Ignan didn’t do likewise at times-

Instead he smiled, humorlessly, picking up one of the books in front of him and running his long fingers down the pages, flipping them as he looked for the topic he’d meant to bookmark. He couldn’t quite read the words, though, with his mind racing as it was. His daze darted about the page uselessly, picking up only the headings.

“I’ve never found fault in your observation abilities, Ignan,” he said dryly, folding a page tip over and closing the book with a snap, placing it aside from the others. He leaned forward, palms spread on the wood desktop in front of him. “I’m sure you can suss out London’s a great place to avoid Scotland from.” He picked up another book, opening it to the index with a flick of his wrist.

“You haven’t exactly been around yourself,” he observed, after a moment. “Aurors keeping you busy?”

"No, trivial matters with them." Ignan dismissed, clearly the fact that Trevelyan and Radley had visited and then been seen with him again after the careers fair had not gone unnoticed.

"Britain's leading magical law enforcement had to ask a Hogwarts professor because they couldn't do their homework. No, there has been plenty more important things to keep me occupied aside from duties at Hogwarts."

He glanced about himself a moment, the prickly conversation between them not enough to spur him back down the stairs, almost as if now he was here, and Tapendra was going to answer questions, he felt obliged to antagonise him some more. It was one of those ridiculous things humans did when they were spurned, say vicious things and then mourn the loss of a previously close friend, only to say just as bad things again on next encounter. It defied logic.

"Unusual not to find your classroom overrun with students who have lost the way to their own common room." He stated, noting their absence. "Or are you tired of their company too?"

 Tapendra snorted, derisively, but he did have the edge of a smirk about his expression as dark, bitter amusement fired. “Maybe we ought to send that lot back to Hogwarts,” he suggested, idly, as he closed and stacked another book. “Remedial courses in not being bloody stupid.”

Ignan’s following jab earned him a look, however - shot dark and blazing for a half-second over Tapendra’s shoulder. Then he turned his head away and swallowed, fingers crunching paper as he drew them into a fist against the desk, a book’s page caught and partially torn by the movement.

“No,” he said, coldly.

He let the paper go, smoothing it out; the movement hid the subtle shaking of his fingers, something he was glad for as he couldn’t make it stop. His stomach twisted. “Look,” he said, the words coming almost before his mind caught up with the fact he was speaking. “I’m sorry for keeping the Malvivicus thing from you for as long as I did.” He looked over his shoulder again, jaw set. “I did what I had to at the time. But I’m not going to apologise for stopping you from hexing the boy.” He slammed one of the books in front of his shut, partially for emphasis and partially as a channel for his nerves. “And I’d stop you again if it came to it.”

Across the room Ignan folded his arms without speaking and stared at Tapendra levelly, a shadow of that dangerous glint that had appeared the night they'd fallen out and Tapendra had braced himself against the doorway.

"… stop you again if it came to it."

"I should hope so." He replied almost immediately to the remark. There was no hint of sarcasm. He let the comment hang for a moment and took one purposeful, slow step forward.

"I wasn't going to hex him, I was rather more considering legilimency." He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly, "Though I could see where you might have got that impression from."

He slid his hands from being folded across his chest and let his hands slip into his pockets, blinking at last and dropping his head. Ignan cleared his throat a little uncomfortably and looked up again.
"I'm … sorry for losing patience with you." Merlin, that was awkward. He stared off to one side, not quite sure what else to say, and still feeling, just a bit, that he was right, and he didn't have to apologise to Tapendra.

Relief was the only reaction Tapendra had time to have, glad that whatever dark thoughts had driven Ignan to resort to that had faded in the intervening weeks.

He watched Ignan guardedly as the man spoke, but the fact the man’s words threw him off was rather transparent in the way his expression shifted, the way his weight changed and he relaxed before tensing up again. He swallowed and looked away. He’d expected - well, he hadn’t expected an apology. Did he even deserve an apology from Ignan about that?

Probably not, on the whole. Still - it was nice to hear, as strange as it was to hear Ignan apologise.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. He turned towards Ignan, then, his hip resting against the desk. “Don’t be.” He crossed his arms, but the gesture came off rather more as a defensive one as he rubbed one of his biceps, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. “I should have…” He stopped, and laughed softly - bitterly. “I should have done a lot of things.” 

"Yes." Ignan replied, though he let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping as if exasperated with himself for saying it. "But we just have to move on as we are. Hmm?" He eyed Tapendra uncomfortably. Neither of them looked to be enjoying the conversation, but it had to be said.

"Thank you," he managed, "for …" he glanced to the ceiling and took an intake of breath, "for being someone he can talk to with respect to these matters." Unable to stand it much longer he turned away, took three steps across the classroom to the door, hands still in his pockets.

"Look," he stopped abruptly, voice louder suddenly. He turned back to regard Tapendra head on, "is there any chance we can stop having this bloody awkward conversation and try to forget that we've hated the sight of each other for the past few months?"

Hearing Ignan say thank you over emotional matters was strange enough; hearing it twice felt rather like a lightning strike, the sudden and almost unwelcome shock of how much the situation must have been bothering the older man. In a way, Tapendra approved; glad on some level that Ignan was both willing to and felt the need to apologise. On the other, the man’s austere, cold manner had a level of reliability to it - it was comforting to know that little phased the man. He met the man’s words with a nod, unsure what to say.

He turned to face Ignan as the man stopped by the door, and the man’s sudden tones - and his body language - summoned only one reaction to the surface among the many that warred around his mind.

Tapendra laughed, a sound that was mirthful but mostly relieved, his shoulders slumping. “Let’s,” he said, smiling.

"Thank Merlin for that." Ignan replied, and let a genuine, but rare smile break out across his stern features. It was good to hear Tapendra laugh, even if he didn't himself. Things had been awkward, and although he didn't want to admit it, it was terribly hard to stay angry at the Astronomy Professor for some strange reason.

He paused awkwardly by the door, contemplating whether to give a nod and leave it at that, the air cleared.

Edit: There were many questions he wanted to ask, but perhaps was not the time.


End