1000 hours, Entrance Hall. M for language.


Nathaira Spectre counted the children coming in through the main doors of the manor, each tousled head coated in fine coal dust or a spattering of wispy twigs as they shrieked joyfully at one another. It was a fine day. A light breeze drifted in from the east and carried the scent of faraway seas in its throws. They had left the doors open to let it in, and to give access to those clan members running to and fro in preparation for the party that night.

She had been in charge of taking the wee ones down to the wizarding settlement to knock on doors and ask for coal or wood. They had more than satisfied the task.

"Thirteen! Is that all of them?" Knox turned her head to yell up the stairs, pausing only to hear Aunt Vanora's froglike voice reply in the positive. "Alright you lot," she glanced at the bairns who were already filing into the dining room. "Food in the kitchen, and then I expect ye upstairs in the baths. Understood?"

The children looked at one another. "No!" they yelled in unison and immediately went scattering through the room, towards the kitchens. Brass little bastards.

A good thing too, they were young enough to get away with it. Knox dusted her hands off on the skirt of her golden yellow dress and sent up a billow of coal powders as she turned to the doors. There were several pops! as figures on the garden terrace appeared or disappeared - the ones coming in going straight around the back to where the bonfire would be built, the ones apparating out waving at her as they did so.

There was food to collect or cook. Charms and wards to be set up. Costumes to be organised. It was hardly noon and she already felt tuckered out, ready for a nice cup of tea or a sitdown with Carr.

As if though the very thought had summoned him, a dark-haired wizard suddenly appeared on the terrace. It took her a moment to see it wasn't her fiancé, and another to realise he didn't know where he was going.

"Hullo! Good morning!" Knox called, strolling out of the hall to greet him with a wide smile - of course she knew who this was now. "Welcome!" Balfour had said he would be by to help with preparations. In her flats she might have been shorter than him but it didn't stop her from pulling Johann into a hug, as strong and bearlike as any Spectre's.

Cheekbones of a greek God! Quite! What a curious way of putting it.

 "Johann, isn't it?" she pulled back sunnily, fixing her eyes on his with fierce affection. "You're as beautiful as they say. I'm afraid my brother's in town just now. Ought we go in for some morning tea or would you prefer it out here?"

The forest trees beyond the terrace might have been barren but they provided a friendly enough prospect in the autumn sunshine.

The moment he emerged on the other side, Johann gasped for air. Apparating into unknown places still gave him nerves, what with all the warning tales of finding yourself in two places the other end. But here he was, on solid ground, as Balfour had described. Merlin! What a place. As he inhaled cool Scottish air he blinked and stared around him, amazed. This was such a stark contrast to London, how on earth could Balfour stomach the city when he'd grown up here?!

Well, he hoped this was where Balfour had grown up, or he had just appeared out of thin air on an unsuspecting person's rather lovely garden terrace, and he ought to be off again in a hurry. Only one way to find out… he glanced around him again for a logical place to go, only he was approached before he could. The shorter woman, expecting child, was reminiscent of Balfour perhaps. Could this be the oft-mentioned Knox? He recalled a photograph...

"Morning!" He replied in an equally bright tone, eyes quickly taking in her appearance, the way she held herself.

"Nathaira - Knox perchance?" He ventured cautiously. Johann hadn't expected the hug before he was introduced, so he didn't lean into it automatically but was pulled in by the shorter witch, a little startled. Well, he must be right in which case, he thought as he consciously returned the hug.

The intensity of her stare on parting was reminiscent of her younger brother's. Johann couldn't help but grin broadly in response, nodding at his name, and blushing furiously at her compliment.

"Ah, gosh, you flatter - and I was going to say you are glowing, Madam." He self consciously ruffled his hair, still blushing. "Forgive me - I am not used to Scottish weather being stuck in London and foreign climes so often." He anticipated he might be branded a soft Southerner by the family, despite his accent. He nodded at her suggestion.

"Please, let's - and you must tell me what I can do to help. I did promise Balfour I would lend a hand, or a wand." He glanced about himself again, eager not to be a burden.

And he blushed, too.

Nathaira tucked that note away, to consider alongside observations made about her brother's past partners. They weren't normally this bashful. She took Johann's arm, wrinkling her nose into a curious little smile as she gently guided him across the terrace and towards the manor now that it seemed like he was an amenable character.

"Oh, even Balfour gets turned around when he pops up after having been down there too long," an image of the wizard crossed her mind - staring out across the estate on an overcast morning. "But do come in. I'm afraid you'll have to take orders as I've walked my feet off all morning."

Even as she said it she could feel her aching heels complain. They crossed the threshold into the entrance hall just as a hatchling of children came scampering from the dining room, sooty hands full of crumbling shortbread. One, two... five of them. As soon as their eyes fell on the unfamiliar face, the shrieking began. "DARK HAIRED STRANGER!" 

Like a mass of sprightly kittens, the bairns crowded at Johann's long legs - each of them demanding to be picked up.

"Manners!" Knox chided, gently and futilely nudging them off. "He's a guest! And what did I tell you lot about baths?" she bit her lip and tried not to laugh as the smallest of them hugged his lanky knee possessively.

Every time! The chattering, grown up voices coming from the kitchen did not seem to pay mind to this flurry of noise but a set of footsteps descending the main stairs caused the witch to glance up. "What's that I hear?" Carmichael Rosier was looking rather splendid in the velvety black cloak of his Thestral costume. "Sounds awfully familiar."

He was down in an instant, swooping up one of the wee girls in his arms with clumsy grace. The lass screamed joyfully and Carr carried her in the crook of one arm before offering Johann a hand. "Carr. Don't mind them, it's good luck to be favoured by a dark haired stranger - or so I'm told. You must be Balfour's fellow."

It was said casually, with nothing suggestive in his mild manners. Nathaira raised an eyebrow at her fiancé, unimpressed. "Have you been home all this time?" she quizzed. "And here I was managing them on my own! Honestly." He pulled at his dark collar, managing to look rueful and unapologetic all at once.

"We're to write names on the divining stones in the drawing room, if you still have time to spare..." the witch trailed off acidly and looked to Johann with a brighter countenance. "Aren't we? It's tradition at Samhain. We leave them by the bonfires until dawn. But you can't write your own name because that's bad luck."

Of course, this close to Halloween, the list of things that caused bad luck always seemed much longer than usual.

"Never!" Johann responded quietly regarding Knox's comment about Balfour feeling the cold.
"I'm afraid you'll have to take orders..."
"Not a problem, what I offered to be here for." He put his hand over hers on his arm, already touched at how familiar Balfour's older sister was to him.

There was a rumbling of feet up ahead of them which caught Johann's attention - it was somewhat reminiscent of Whiskey and Ira's huskeys barrelling down Balfour's passageway.

Instead it was a set of sooty children who had no concerns on grasping and poking. Johann could remember his younger cousins on his mother's side being much the same when he had visited - they were all in their late teens and twenties now, he the eldest of them all.

There was suddenly so much noise, and Johann wasn't sure what to make of the child attention - it was rather unusual. He didn't socialise with children all that often save for a couple of friends or clients who had children too young to go to Hogwarts. He wasn't anyone's godfather and would never be an uncle. To have five of them shrieking around them was a bit of a surprise.

Knox berated them gently, mentioning baths, which looked to be a good idea considering they were somehow covered in soot. He was suddenly pinned down by two little arms around his knee and had to step backwards to get his balance.
"Erm," His free hand hovered cautiously over the little one's head, almost as if he might pat or pet the hair of this small human like a dog.

Eventually his hand lowered and patted, allowing the small thing to continue to cling to his leg. Rosier's appearance down the stairs was striking - he was already in costume. He recognised Carr as a face from the Ministry, though they had not ever spoken. Knox's fiancé was an unspeakable.

Another of the children was swept into his arms and Johann momentarily glanced down at the one attached to his leg, wondering if that was the correct response. He was a stranger here, and to them, he would never have attached himself to a stranger at their age. He shook the offered hand without hesitation, smiling and nodding.

"Johann," He replied "and I suppose I am indeed." He felt at ease, none of the Spectres or their extended number seemed displeased to meet him. Balfour had undoubtedly only mentioned the positives.

"Quite the costume already." He complimented Carr, eyes glancing up and down, his hand returning to the back of the head of the small thing who was now swinging in earnest from foot to foot, eager to be swept up like the girl in Carr's arms.
"What do you think?" He asked, lowering his head to ask his new friend, who sprang away at being directly addressed, giggling and regrouping with the other three stood around them.

"We're to write names on the divining stones in the drawing room, if you still have time to spare... Aren't we?"
"Ah yes." Johann replied, with a nod, straightening up and glancing between Knox and her husband to be. Balfour had mentioned - and what he hadn't mentioned, Johann had naturally read in his own time and was keeping his eyes open for. When Knox mentioned the bad luck, he hastily nodded.

"Why are you all sooty anyway?" He asked the gaggle around them. "You surely haven't been writing names on stones, have you been collecting for the bonfire?" Glancing back up at the two adults with him, he added in a low voice.
"Do put me to work, though can't say children are one of my talents… These cousins of your own?" He asked, gesturing very gently to Knox. 

Knox rather liked watching strangers interact with the clan children. It was a test of character. If they ran away screaming, you knew they had none.

"We were! I carried eleven pieces of coal!" one of the boys exclaimed in response to Johann's query, the others quickly following with their own feats of strength. "Nine!"  "Thirteen!!"  "I had six very big ones!" Their claims overlapped messily but not without charm.

If given a chance the bairns could go on all day. Nathaira was wise to their game, however, and gave the group a reprimanding look - it shut them up all at once, though Carr quickly came to the rescue. "I'll take them up to the baths," the wizard made a gesture to help nudge the younglings towards the stairwell. "And we'll be along to the drawing room after, to help. Make sure she puts her feet up won't you-" this last bit was directed at Johann, warm. "-she forgets herself sometimes. I'm sure you can relate."

Honestly! Knox stuck her tongue out at him, receiving only a peaceable smile in return as he corralled the children away. They each gave the guest a friendly wave or smile as they ran after one another - some mumbling in broken Gaelic that their uncle Balfy's boyfriend was almost as tall as him, or that they thought he didn't look anything whatsoever like an eagle.

"They are," she answered Johann only when they were out of earshot. "Some of our aunts and uncles married quite late so we have an army of very little Spectres, you see."

The witch guided him by the arm towards the east end of the hall, where a wide doorway led them into the main drawing room. It was a big room, obviously intended for large family gatherings of a casual nature. Card tables were amassed by a great window that overlooked the front terrace but Knox crossed over to the other side of the room.

The fireplace here was immense. It could have easily fit two Balfours and an Aisling (they checked), and the fire burning in its hearth was zealous enough to warm the entire space. A heap of rough, grey pebbles lay in front of it.

"We don't know precisely how many people are coming," or who if she was being honest, "But I try to get the family stones done before the festivities, and we send some of the older weans around to scribble down the stragglers." Knox ignored the assemblage of old couches and armchairs to sit on the floor by the pebbles, arranging her skirts pragmatically.

There was some chalk on the coffee table, next to a disarray of playing cards and an archaic scroll of names. The eldest Spectre sibling smiled up at Johann as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Sit. I'm afraid my brother hasn't told me much about you, except that you're clever. He didn't even say how you both met!" she complained, though the smile never left. "Might I rely on you to be the informative one? Unless it's a secret, of course. He's a bloody stickler for those."

If he was honest, he was a little relieved to be free of the youngest Spectre cousins. He was never entirely at ease amongst children, always feeling he might either step on one or say something upsetting through using the wrong language. Most of his fears were unfounded, cousin Slyvie had arrived just as he was finishing his school studies, Yanis and Sandrine had been about four, Noelie, eight and Alix, thirteen. All had experienced his tentative attempts to look out for them during school summers when they had visited Carnac and none of them wanted to tear his eyes out even as adults. He had just never compared his limited skills in a positive light against his mother's ease with children and rather seen his father's prickly nature towards them instead. None of his cousins had ever wanted to hug Wolfgang, but they had fought over aunt Camille.

".. forgets herself sometimes. I'm sure you can relate." Carr departed with the sooty children, Johann still attempting to appear impressed with the amounts they had carried to keep on good terms with them all, though a little confused at how Carr had suggested Johann could relate to forgetting himself. What exactly had Balfour told them of him, r was this a seemingly innocent comment he was reading into.

"An army!" Johann echoed with amusement as Knox took his arm again and he walked steadily along the hallway with her, a friendly smile on his face.

His eyes remained busy, taking in his surroundings, giving the impression he was greatly distracted. At Knox's invitation he hurried to take a seat on the floor, sat cross-legged, quite comfortable in doing so once he'd cast off his coat. The heat from the fire was considerable.

Without prompting he reached for pebbles, smoothing his thumbs over to find a flat enough surface on each that would fit a name.

"No great secret," Johann assured Knox in response to her request for information. "He's just far too modest of himself, and generous in his description of me in turn. Is that a list?" He reached his long fingers out to  unravel the scroll, and without thinking twice about it, rolled it flat between them on the floor to better examine it.

"I'll start at the bottom?" He asked, an extended finger hovering above the list before he glanced to Knox, keen to be helpful and very glad of a list - if nothing more than for the spellings of some of the names. His lips sounded out the name at the bottom before reaching for the chalk to write.

"We met at work before, but the night we really met was quite unexpected," Johann explained, concentrating on inscribing the letters legibly on stone. "He's quite the dancer, your brother, amongst many other things." He smiled to himself, tilting his head the other way to check the name before blowing gently to remove the excess chalk.
"Nearly two months ago now, I suppose." He remarked, almost as if he hadn't consciously realised. He looked round to Knox and smiled.

"I work on Level Five - International affairs, almost two years now, languages are my speciality." He set aside the stone and reached for another, fingers quickly examining the angles.

"As you might have guessed," he gestured with his right hand to his mouth, the chalk between his fingers, "Not from round here." His eyes were quickly busy on the next name, lips silently sounding it out again.

"He makes me very happy." He admitted, "Your brother has the kindest of hearts, and he's been brilliant, wonderful, what with all that's happened lately. I am glad to have met him, and honoured to be able to join you all tonight." He blew on the stone in his hand and turned it to Knox, "How does one say that?"

Nathaira stopped short of snorting in disbelief at the very notion of her brother's modesty. Granted, Balfour wasn't one to boast or brag but he'd always known how to gauge himself. It gave him an aura of self-assurance: confidence in graces that lesser people agonised over.

She didn't think to interrupt the chatter, perfectly happy for somebody else to be doing the talking as she comfortably stretched out her slippered feet towards the fireplace. Johann appeared capable enough of sorting the divining stones and she only glanced over to  confirm the order of the list, as well as to ensure he was using the right hand.

As a rule, Spectre left-handers weren't allowed the task.

"You ought to see him in a Ceilidh." Knox smiled and watched the wizard's white hands busy at work. "Or you could join him in one tonight, I imagine." A shame about the costumes; she suspected Johann might have preferred seeing her little brother in a kilt instead. That always sent the lasses swooning, silly creatures.

It was difficult to imagine Johann swooning, so she abandoned the endeavour and reached for a piece of chalk as they spoke. Knox lifted up a corner of the carpet to sketch on the brown stone beneath.

"Teasag? Like Jessie," she didn't look up from the floor, recalling the list from memory and remembering that Carr had asked the same question when he'd been helping last year. Except he hadn't an excuse, not as Johann did, being from other shores. "Not a popular family name. You're awfully sincere, did you know that?"

Her hands moved skilfully, quick. Not doodlings but faint runes of warding and good luck. She paused to give their guest a keen, searching look. Yes. He was exceptionally beautiful. That didn't surprise her. It was his manners. How peculiar. Either he had extremely good ones or absolutely no idea how disarming it was to hear someone spoken about like that.

The kindest of hearts.

"But not honest. There's no need to sell his merits to me. You can't think Balfour all that kind." Knox pushed the carpet back over the runes before shifting her attention over to Johann all at once. In the quiet morning light, the drawing room felt quite private in spite of its size. None of the bustle seemed to penetrate its walls, and the old furniture seemed in silent collusion with her.

This was likely the only time she'd have alone with the lad, for now.

"He was very mean on the Wireless. If he ever does anything like that again-" the sides of her eyes crinkled with dangerously good humour. "- I recommend throwing the cookware. But best not to think about that when you're writing his name down." Knox indicated the scroll, her brother's name not far from the top. "You'd be responsible if he went missing next morrow."

"Hah!" Johann replied with a grin at Knox's declaration, "I'm on my best behaviour." He blew on the chalk and winked as he reached over to place Teasag's stone down before moving onto the next.

Whereas Balfour's sister stole a glance at him for his looks as she doodled on the stone floor, Johann was more curious at why she was not helping him name the stones, until he clocked she wrote with her left hand as Balfour did.

"You can't think Balfour all that kind." Knox said suddenly, and Johann looked up midway through chalking a name, more to check her expression along with her tone.
"He was very mean on the Wireless. If he ever does anything like that again I recommend throwing the cookware. But best not to think about that when you're writing his name down. You'd be responsible if he went missing next morrow."

"He could have been a lot worse." Johann thoughtfully assured her, the chalk in his right hand coming back down to rest on the face of the stone. "I only hope he's careful enough not to run into trouble with it. I felt enough of a backlash from one interview, but it was my choice to offer it." He gave a shrug, "and I hear cookware is quite dramatic, hmm." His more serious expression turned into a smile once more and he finished the name without further hesitation.

"Forgive me," He addressed Knox softly, and gestured to the stones between them, "I had assumed you would be writing these with me, but you're sinister like your brother. I gather that matters?" He reached for another stone, "I've never been one for divination, I admit. These go round the fire, is that right?"

Nathaira genuinely hoped that their guest didn't measure all his interactions by the golden rule that they could be a lot worse. Even if it was true in some cases. Certainly, Johann could do much worse. And perhaps vice versa? It had been some time since Balfour had brought home somebody who didn't look like they had half a mind to set the countryside on fire.

"We hope the same. Born under a blessed star, my brother. He keeps dashing headlong into trouble and not getting killed," she muttered in a voice equal measures affectionate and deprecating. "I suppose it's part of his charm."

In the natural world, bright and alarming colours of a poisonless snake whose flamboyance warranted rather than warned the attentions of predators. You can shed your skin but you can't change it. The witch leaned her shoulder against the coffee table, looking over the scroll.

She could hear voices in the entrance hall now, speaking in Gaelic, so likely to be her father and grandfather. They were not drifting closer so she didn't think to call out, distracted by Johann's query instead.

"Balfour didn't tell you?" Knox picked up one of the unmarked stones in her right hand and tossed it into her left playfully. "Our great grand aunt Arabella was the last sinister handed person to write the stones, and that Samhain three of the wee ones went missing in the morning. Never saw them again. It's bad luck, now." At least that was as much as she could tell from what the elderly Spectres would say on the subject.

It was good that they were a vast clan, considering the rate at which members simply fell off the earth. Nathaira placed the pebble in front of Johann, smiling wryly. "And aye, they go around the two bonfires. We check them at dawn. If your stone is misplaced, you don't live to the end of the year. The stones are almost never misplaced."

Which was a lie, they'd gone missing several times because the children would have a bit of mischief before sunrise. Johann could find that out for himself firsthand.

A booming voice from the foyer cut through the ambience of silence that had dominated the drawing room, and Knox looked up in vague surprise. "Nathaira! Have you been drawing runes again Nathaira?" It was grandfather Balthain, she knew.

"Yes, in the drawing room seanair!" she yelled back, unimpressed.
            "Well what in Fenrir's name are you doing in there? Taking tea at noon?"


Balthain Spectre was a tall, lean man who in some ways resembled Balfour except that he had a crooked nose and a mean press to his thin lips. He walked with the grace of a sprightly young man in spite of the shock of white hair, and the archaic cut of his maroon robes.

For a while, as he entered and stopped to address her from behind one of the couches, the old wizard didn't seem to notice their guest. "Where's your brother? And where have the Hippogri--" he did a double take, glancing at Johann. "You aren't the Rosier lad-" and then to Knox: "Is he?"

She laughed.

"No. Don't be silly. This is Johann Storm." Knox met her helper in the eye, a look of warning and amusement. "Johann, this our grandfather Balthain. Sadly his divining stone constantly fails to go missing."

Balthain ignored her cheek entirely, fixing Johann with an intense but familiar look of scrutiny - though he made no effort to approach him or shake his hand. So this was the bastard who cost him twenty galleons, the look seemed to say!

It managed to be reproachful and polite at the same time. "German, are you? What is it with him and the bloody Germans?" This was beautifully rhetorical but did not sound as much. Knox raised her eyebrows, but could not say anything for fear of catching the giggles.

"… never saw them again…"

Johann paused, eyes wide, chalk poised, about to write another when he stopped to listen to the account. He swallowed audibly and glanced down to the stone in his hand before looking back to Knox.

"Almost ne-" Johann's quiet query was interrupted by another member of the family appearing, the footsteps and address made him glance round, still clutching the stone and chalk. The older wizard didn't even appear to see him at first. It did not bother Johann, there were undoubtedly a lot of people around and about and very busy. He was there to pitch in and help.

"You aren't the Rosier lad-" Johann's lips formed no but but again the response was swallowed by a continuation from the other side. "Is he?"

Although flattered to be compared to Carr, given he was an unspeakable, somewhat easy on the eye, able to communicate with children and to marry Knox, he quite clearly was not a suitable replacement.

He got to his feet hastily to meet Balfour's grandfather, brushing chalk from his knee and hands as he did. His face adopted a warm, polite smile before he extended his hand to shake.
"Pleasure to meet you Sir," he greeted.

Although he prided himself in honing his foreign accents, to the British ear, the tell-tale hints of the vs and ws still marked him easily as a foreigner, and back to the country he'd grown up in. Balthair was quick to remark.

"German, are you? What is it with him and the bloody Germans?"

Johann's lips fell open, attempting to form a quick response to such a statement. It was either perfectly innocent, or alluded to his partner's former relationships, or even friendships, he reflected, thinking of Dietrich.

"It must be the alluring accent." He replied, somewhat straight-faced though the blinking after he delivered the line betrayed his true thoughts. However much Balfour squirmed and grinned when he recited or read to him, Johann maintained his mother-tongue and accent sounded abrupt to British audiences.

Balthair was not impolite, but there was an edge to him that reminded Johann of meeting his wider family. Scrutiny, measuring him up. At least Balthair had not remarked 'what is it with him and men?' which he would have feared more. Neither he could change, but he knew more witticisms for being born abroad than he did for finding an adult grandson attractive.

"I haven't seen Balfour for hours, I'm afraid I"m no help there." His eyes couldn't help but glance over the familiar genetic echoes of the younger generation in Balthair's face. Thank Merlin Balfour hadn't inherited the nose.

"Am I keeping Nathaira?" He asked, feeling as if he might be getting in the way of a larger operation, very keen to make a good impression with the Spectres and stay out from under foot. "She has tasked me with the stones, though I am here to assist in any way I and my wand can."

Though not with hippogriffs he added silently, fearing that a lack of experience with animals before the Spectres would probably be comprehended as something particularly odd.

Grandfather Balthair was beyond reproach - quite literally he would not give a damn - but she didn't much worry for her brother's latest adventure, who like many of the others seemed perfectly capable of handling himself around the older gentleman. They had all witnessed the awkward introductory phase of what their parents once deemed as Balfour's rebellious period and now accepted as part of an urban lifestyle.

Knox rolled a bit of chalk between her palms as she watched the two wizards in their imbalanced exchange, lips twisted in a diverted smile. All politeness. "Am I keeping Nathaira? She has tasked me with the stones, though I am here to assist in any way I and my wand can."

There would be no instance of somebody else answering on her behalf.

"Not at all. I'm afraid I have a monopoly on you, Johann..." she gave her grandfather a look that might have reminded him of his late mother - it was the same one she gave the bairns, softened only by her tone of voice. "Balfy should be here any moment. He's to come by before they go looking for the tree, I can't imagine what's keeping him."

Balfour had come in through the kitchen, where a jubilant but dishevelled gathering of half-costumed aunts and uncles were taking their tea by the fire. They'd crowed at him to pull up a chair, and he had to politely decline - barely managing to avoid questions about the bruise on his right cheek, as he left for the other end of the manor.

It was more than a bruise. Ichabod Huggins had done a fucking good job of that southpaw strike, breaking the skin on both face and knuckle.

"Seanair!" he exclaimed while crossing the entrance hall, the drawing room coming into view. "What's this about offending old man Huggins? His son was looking to give me a shiner!"

Catching sight of Balthair, his gaze slid across to Johann - and he wondered if he could forgive his stomach for doing that awful leap of nervousness that one feels on noticing two sources of felicity in the same place. There was something strange about seeing his companion in the light of the Spectre household.

"Johann." Balfour affected nonchalance, moving past his grandfather to give Johann a quick kiss, his hand going smoothly around the waist. "Been here long? Afraid I'll be off again in a bit."

Nathaira - he saw that she was with them now, looking quite cheerful on the floor - seemed happy to interrupt.

"Huggins isn't coming then?"
            "Of course he isn't." Balthair grumbled, purposefully ignoring his grandson's show of affection.
"I'll cross them off the divining stones."

"Or you could write one for them, see if Ichabod goes missing tomorrow morning." Balfour remarked dryly, touching his cheek with a grimace. He hadn't the time to heal it yet and, really, if he got knocked about hunting for the tree it was better to mend oneself all at once.

He gave Johann's waist a squeeze, looking from him to the clan patriarch with an easy smile. "Costumes all ready to go then?"

"Not at all. I'm afraid I have a monopoly on you, Johann…" Knox assured him, makes a change from your brother, Johann thought to himself, thankfully not letting his tongue do the honours of vocalising it.

As if on cue, Johann's ears picked out a familiar voice, though he noted with a satisfied smile that the Scottish accent had become ever more acute with the surroundings. He would very much enjoy this lilt for the time they were immersed, and if he drank enough to feel bold, he might even attempt to mimic his lover's expressions for amusement.

The smile fell away on seeing Balfour. For all his assertive greeting of his grandfather, Johann's eyes immediately picked out the bruise spoiling his right cheekbone which had not been there when he had kissed it goodbye last. Much as he understood the hazards of Balfour's job, it still made his heart skip two beats at the sight of a new injury. In a way, he hoped he'd never become entirely accustomed to it.

Realising the drop in his expression and his slack jaw, Johann attempted to compose his face a moment after Balfour set eyes on him, exchanging a kiss not shifting from his spot between the table and the fireplace beside Knox as Balfour's hand found his waist.
"Been here long? Afraid I'll be off again in a bit."
"Not all that long-."
"Huggins isn't coming then?" Johann did not pay close attention to the exchange about changes to the guest-list other than to note the surname that had seemingly assaulted Balfour.
"… see if Ichabod goes missing tomorrow morning." Johann's eyes didn't leave Balfour's expression, his slightly chalky hand raising as if to place cool fingers on a blemished cheek to soothe it, thinking better as he remembered the company. He lowered his chin a little self-consciously. Had this been his own family, this would have been entirely different, and far more ugly, and those thoughts tugged at the corner of his confidence.

"Costumes all ready to go then?" Johann blinked, Balfour's smile was infectious.
"Near enough. I was re-sticking feathers first thing this morning. Only hope the hawk stays on." He gestured to the crown of his head with trepidation. He didn't wear hats, his curls unseated them soon enough if he tried.

"We'll have to find a moment to take a photograph before they start to disintegrate. Knowing my luck I will appear as if the fates have had the eagle for breakfast before the wyrm gets a look in." He gave a shrug of his shoulders, hand nearest Balfour accidentally leaving the slightest chalky fingermarks at the top of his backside where it came to rest.

"Your dear sister just declared she has a monopoly on me, so if you are to be running off again so soon, you best not be too long before she claims new ownership over me." He joked, glancing down to Knox with a wink.

Nathaira, as a rule, never missed a beat.

She didn't give their grandfather an inch as Balfour entered - helping steer the conversation far from the path of inappropriate romances and arbitrary gambling. It had taken years of awkward clan reunions for them to be any good at it but Balthair had always given everyone plenty of practice. If anything, they were much better at swaying the exchanges than their parents.

It gave her an opportunity to observe Johann while they spoke. His concern for Ichabod's handiwork was curious.

People, especially people close to Balfour, were accustomed to that sort of thing. Bruises and blood and burns. Or if they weren't then they never displayed tenderness in response. Dear Bal was good about taking a beating without complaint. 

"Carr would be more than happy to take photographs." Knox put in, ignoring her brother's charmed little smile at the play on cats and eagle. Such a silly smile. "But you must let me help with the costume. I'm a Hippogriff, you see. Quite good with all that feather nonsense."

A series of cracks went off in the background while she addressed Johann - it didn't merit much attention except from Balfour, who glanced over at the windows looking on the front terrace. A pair of tall wizards had appeared on the green. They were both of fair red hair and broad, powerful build. Not so graceful as their young sibling. A vague eye might have taken the men for twins but they were not entirely identical. Cormag, the shorter, sported obvious burn and clawmark scars on the right side of his visage and body. He seemed to be in an argument with the other.

"We'll give your headdress a fighting chan--" Nathaira was saying.
            Balfour interrupted. "-- that's my cue."
"Oh dear. Try not to break anything this year."

He was already extracting himself from Johann, looking around to the Spectre elder in a way that belied his relative youth to the man. "Come on then seanair, we'd better be going." Abruptly, Balfour turned back to lay a hand on his partner's shoulder fleetingly and with an air of distraction before planting another kiss in farewell. "You're mine tonight," he muttered in response to the quip of ownership.

Knox didn't catch all of it, though she found herself smirking as Balfour finally made to leave the drawing room. Balthair had noticed the chalk marks on his grandson's back and was making a halfway decent effort of pretending it didn't bother him. "Nathaira." The grey haired wizard parted in a soft voice. "Johann."

And using the first name, too! She would have to remind herself to be proud of him later. Knox stood up and dusted off her skirts as she drew up next to Johann to watch her younger siblings reunite on the terrace outside. They appeared youthful in one another's presence, Balfour most of all as the other two pulled him into a hug.

"You'll meet them later," she looped her arm through Johann's and smiled affectionately. "After they've run themselves stupid in the wood. I think grandfather tolerates you. He's awfully old fashioned, you know, but he loves Balfour very much." The clan's golden child, both to his pride and detriment.

Nathaira looked at her guest with studious eyes.  "Don't worry about his face. It's nothing he isn't used to," she added in what was not a very reassuring voice.

"Excellent," Johann replied to Knox's declaration that she was good with feathers. The sound of apparation interrupted the conversation, and Balfour added something about a cue, to which Johann felt his heart sink ever so slightly. It was silly really, but it was moments like that which highlighted how he had become a little attached to Balfour in the past couple of months.

"… try not to break anything this year." Johann swallowed, but couldn't entirely hide the anxious expression at this passing comment from sister to brother. The kiss on his cheek and the muttering was responded to quietly with
"Always," and he let Balfour go, not wanting to intervene, or distract further, letting his hands fall behind his back again a little formally amongst the company, lowering his head. He watched them leave nodding politely in response to Balthair Spectre's acknowledgement of his name.

Then they were gone and it was just him and Nathaira again. He let out a breath caught in his lungs, standing at ease again once figured departed. He was trying very hard not to think of the state of Balfour's face and the comment about breaking bones. He shouldn't be worried - Balfour spent his days with dragons, but something had grown in him over two months which did care.

The rustle of material beside him made him glance to Nathaira as she slid her hand under his arm and smiled, elaborating on the extra figures who had appeared. Johann's blue eyes followed the movement outside of the windows on the terrace.
"… I think grandfather tolerates you. He's awfully old fashioned you know…"
"Really." Johann replied, sounding abruptly deadpan without meaning it, and quickly realised, "I mean, really, he's not all that old fashioned, if he tolerates me." His voice was soft, a little nervous, but he pushed a smile to his face as he was under study. Now was not the time to consider how his own family would have reacted outside of a trusted few.

"Don't worry about his face. It's nothing he isn't used to." Johann's blue eyes snapped to Balfour's sister's face suddenly and eyebrows twitched into a frown.
"I, I know. I just, I'm not used to it, I suppose. But I don't think I ever want to be used to it, if that makes sense." He raised a hand and went to rub at his forehead in thought of it all, catching sight of the chalk just in time and dismissing his hand.

He let out another deep breath, dispersing the somewhat anxious feeling that was knotting between his shoulder-blades.
"Sorry, different worlds. I'll do my best." He gave Knox a smile. "We didn't so much as have an owl when I was growing up. You have hippogriffs and Merlin knows what else… I best finish these stones for you." He squeezed her looped arm with his rather than spread chalk further.

Once resettled with the diving stones, list and the chalk, Johann once again felt useful rather than out of sync with the Spectre way of life, though on later reflection he might realise he was expecting a little much of himself on first meet.
"What was it like then, growing up here? All this space, big house?" He rubbed the tip of his nose, leaving chalk dust despite his earlier efforts. One long pale finger traced along the list between them, and he glanced up, "You must know all the embarrassing stories."