The staff room door came open with vigour, the noise of students milling in the entrance hall beyond it ahead of dinner flooded into the space full of mismatched armchairs and the lingering smell of strong coffee. It was Friday and the last of the week's lessons had finished about fifteen minutes previously, and the staff room door had opened with regularity for the past five minutes with the comings and goings of the Hogwarts professors.

Camille's entrance was rushed. She'd near run from the sixth floor classroom on realising and her pale face was flushed. Ignan had not been in his classroom on the first floor so she had surmised he might be down in the staff room and to her relief she was correct.

"Ignan!" She exclaimed - altogether unusual as even the majority of the staff seemed to respectfully greet the Deputy Headmaster by surname as the students did. That raised a few eyebrows as she remembered the door to the staff room was open and flung it back. "Merlin, I came straight when I saw it," the Arithmancy professor continued, advancing across the room, weaving between mismatched armchairs amongst her colleagues.

When she reached Ignan who was roughly in the middle of the staff room, mid-conversation with another of their colleagues, she extended a colourful publication straight at him, turned to a particular page. The older professor's lip curled in disgust at the recognition of Witch Weekly, but he did not otherwise react until Camille thrust it at him a little more urgently.

"I knew you'd got married," she exclaimed, in a none-too-quiet tone, gesturing to his left hand. Her cousin by marriage made to hush her belatedly, "but really Ignan?! I confiscated this off two giggling fifth year girls in my last lesson today, no wonder they were distracted. A mother to be! What on earth are they on about with Miranda?"

Planting her hands firmly on her hips, Camille barely realised until Ignan seemed to be staring at her with deathly intent that the staff room had gone very quiet, their colleagues suddenly attentive to their conversation.

---

Come join in the torment, colleagues...

Rick had been minding his own business. Sort of. It wasn’t easy, given his better than average hearing, but after growing up in a large, nosy, shameless family he was what one could reasonably call experienced, and as such, tuning people out was simply just a matter of focus.

Anyway, there were papers to grade—something Rick didn’t do as often as most students thought, despite the gratuitous amount he liked to assign, but it was a new year. With classes over and done with for the week (and next week’s lessons already prepared), he had more time on his hands than usual, and tonight he was feeling generous enough to give his students’ work his undivided attention. In front of him now was one such paper, propped against his lap as he rested his feet on the staff table’s edge. T, he wrote, topping the letter off with a grim smile of satisfaction. And then, after a moment’s pause, charitably turned it into a P.

But then the door burst open and Camille rushed in, red-faced and a copy of Witch Weekly clutched in one hand, and, well. Like Ignan, Rick zeroed on the magazine with a look of distaste, but it wasn’t until the words married and mother to be were thrown around that brows rose in surprise—quickly followed by a rapidly growing smirk.

No. Fucking. Way.

And it seemed that Shona was of the same mind, because her eyes widened dramatically before she snatched the copy from Ignan’s grip, turning away from both him and Camille with a shocked laugh of “oh my GOD”. “Maiko, look,” she urged, beckoning the counselor over.

But Rick was faster and plucked it out of her hands, fending off anyone who tried to take it with an outstretched hand. “‘Was baby brain to blame?’” he read aloud, sounding all too amused. The bits about tragic pasts and suicide were—okay, awful, to be honest, but Rick wasn’t focusing on that. Rather, he was more concerned about the old Defense professor’s new marital status and the rumors surrounding it; given the subjects’ ages it should have been one of the last conclusions for the writer to jump to, but when did sanity or reason ever play a role in gossip rags?

The werewolf glanced at Ignan, lips curved in a terrible smirk as he met the older wizard’s eyes. Sure, he respected the guy (and dead family was always a low blow), but he had never claimed to be a saint. Nor did he forget a judgmental stare. Schadenfreude was sweet. “Is baby brain to blame?” he asked sweetly, and when he got a hard punch in the arm for it he didn’t even have the decency to flinch.

Maiko had been relaxing in the staff room with a cup of chai tea clasped in her hand while re-reading (or skimming, really) Rascal Rosier's latest book. Camille burst into the room, and suddenly the Donovans were having her look at some article in Witch Weekly-- a magazine that she hadn't followed since she had been a student.

She had only read a few choice sentences when Rick ripped it out of Shona's hands. Maiko slammed her cup of tea down by Rick's arm, splashing some of the hot liquid on the charms professor as she stole a few more peeks.

"Was baby brain to blame?" Rick said-- not once-- but twice. They had laughed, they were clearly amused. The bits that Mai had read were anything but. Her mouth was set in a solemn line.  "Shut up, Rick." Mai said acidly, giving him a frigid stare. No matter how much she liked and respected the Charms professor, she could not let this slide. 

"You are amused by this blatant disrespect and intrusion of privacy?" She could feel the muscles in her neck tightening up. It was disgusting, how Storm and Miranda's pasts were dredged out for the sole purpose of nasty gossip. It was harmful, it was beyond disrespectful.  Mai would cool down soon enough, but the crazy last few months had worn down on her patience-- especially when the safety or comfort of those she cared about was threatened.

"There is nothing humorous about this. It's not funny. Would you be laughing if this had been about you?" Mai shook her head, "Show some consideration. Doesn't matter if you like him or not. Their business is their's alone. If they don't choose to share it with us, then that's their right." She glanced at Ignan briefly and crossed her arms over her chest. "Besides, people's personal lives shouldn't be exposed without their consent for entertainment."

She had half a mind to go to the Witch Weekly office herself and speak to this Lil Snigger about her slanderous article. That witch was going down.

It all happened so fast. One moment, Shona had the copy in her hands, hardly believing what she saw because this was Ignan—old, dour Ignan, with just enough of an edge to maintain a fine balance between respectable and interesting. The next moment the copy was gone, with no way to get it back without looking unprofessional, Rick’s face drawn in an infuriating grin, and Maiko starting on him before Shona or anyone could say anything. The werewolf’s gaze darted between with a growing sense of foreboding.

“You are amused by this blatant disrespect and intrusion of privacy?” Maiko’s words were fierce, matched only by her tone; Shona winced, feeling the tiniest pinprick of guilt. It hadn’t occurred to give her colleagues some privacy at all.

But worse than that was the rebuke itself. Space and privacy had always been important to Rick, and to his sister’s knowledge there were few who had theirs infringed upon as much as his, which had reached the point where it had become something of a running gag; who else found themselves in situations as crazy as the ones he found himself in? It wasn’t surprising he bore it all with as much ill grace as he did—what was was the patience he showed in doing so, in letting it become a joke. So long as he was his usual grumpy self, went the reasoning, it was fine.

But now, the one time that the tables were turned... Feeling ill, Shona glanced at Rick—just in time to see his face settle in a horribly blank expression. “What,” he said flatly, and she cringed.

“Maiko,” she tried, resting a hand on the other witch’s shoulder—gently, maybe, trying to turn her away from him. “He doesn’t find it funny, of course he doesn’t–” Probably. Rick wasn’t exactly abrasive, but he could be... callous, when it came to things he considered just desserts. But she had more than a feeling Maiko – or anyone, really – wouldn’t appreciate that, so she plowed on, trying to come off as confident as possible. “It’s just—baby rumors? About Ignan? It’s complete cacky, he’s old.” She shot Ignan a quick glance, then met Camille’s eyes and shrugged. It wasn’t like she was wrong.

Rick, though, didn’t seem ready to let it go, because regardless of their audience he turned around to face Maiko, turning in such a way that Shona found herself stepping in between them. “Are you serious,” he said coldly, in spite of the hand on his arm. “This has happened to me. So, yes, I am going to laugh about this.”

He shoved the magazine into Maiko’s chest, just lightly enough to be insulting. Softly, deliberately, and with a fake smile to match, he went “ha.”

“Rick,” snapped Shona, and he looked away with a unrepentant tch. Her eye twitched.

But she looked back at Camille and Ignan and settled on the latter with a firm, determinedly bright grin, hands dropping at her sides. “So...” she drawled, casually sidling closer. “I guess congratulations are in order? For the nuptials.” Tucking her hands into her pockets, the werewolf smiled up at him cheekily.

Lessons had not long finished, and Ignan was mid conversation when his cousin approached without any care for the fact she was interrupting. This was particularly unusual for Camille who had pretty good manners all considering, and kind concern for staff and students alike. For her to be calling his forename in the crowded room indicated that something really was not well.

Well, he gave her the benefit of the doubt until she shoved a copy of a magazine he could usually spot at ten paces, and confiscate. This horrible piece of literature was not even fit for toilet paper in Ignan's opinion. Witch Weekly had once flattered him with calling him an eligible bachelor but the flattery was short-lived and the ridicule had outlasted.

"I knew you'd got married," Camille exclaimed, and she really could have done with finding her discretion at that moment in Ignan's opinion. He'd not mentioned anything about getting married in Norway but Camille afforded a longer audience than most of his colleagues for being family, and was also a friend of Miranda's. It had been difficult to hide it from her. "A mother to be! What on earth are they on about with Miranda?"

He hadn't even managed to glance down at what she was shoving towards him but that single line from the Arithmancy professor suggested it elaborated that Miranda might be - or worse - was pregnant. It was most unlikely that could be the truth, he'd be the first to know if it were. Either way, she could stop talking about it right in the middle of the bloody staff room.

Shona Donovan had the copy away from him in a flash, and like the students they taught, the staff were all over it in an instant as Ignan and Camille continued to stare at each other. He had too much respect for his cousin on a usual basis to shout at her right there, but he couldn't open his mouth because he probably was about to.

"Is baby brain to blame?" Rick Donovan asked with sarcastic sweetness.
"Shut up, Rick." Maiko leapt to his aide, immediately squashing the notion it was funny.
"It’s just—baby rumours? About Ignan? It’s complete cacky, he’s old."
"Are you serious, this has happened to me. So, yes, I am going to laugh about this."
"So... I guess congratulations are in order? For the nuptials."

Ignan's eyes had moved from one to the next, and the magazine had been shoved back to Maiko by Rick a moment before. He cleared his throat and extended his hand to Maiko.
"Let me see this ridiculous article." He uttered quietly, and once handed over, turned on his heel and stalked away from them all to scrutinize it.

"What do you mean, it's happened to you?" Camille asked, confused, at Rick, "It is very silly. I can't understand why they believe that." She shook her head to Maiko, "They did the same to my son in the Prophet last year. It is a sudden marriage, they jump to conclusions. I came to tell him straight away - but the students will have already read it." She shrugged, her hands still on her hips.

Ignan turned back to them all, the magazine curled into a roll in his hand and a strangely calm expression on his face.
"Yes, we got married over Christmas." He confirmed with a nod to Shona. "As for the rest, I am sure you can draw your own conclusions to the validity. This is Witch Weekly after all." He added with narrowed eyes.

Mai was unaware of everything that Rick went through. He was a private person, and she tried not to pry. Apparently, she should have-- at some point. Otherwise she would have understood his reasoning. Either way, his reaction had not been appropriate and she felt like Ignan was owed some apologies all around.

She accepted the article from Rick, and handed it over to Ignan-- allowing him to read while Camille went on about something similar had happened to her son. Mai could understand how she would have wanted to tell Storm immediately. Still, she had not done it as privately as most people would have preferred.

"The information is out there, we can't stop people from reading it." Maiko sighed, offering Camille a weak smile.  Ignan turned around and confirmed that he had, indeed, gotten married. She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest and processed it.

"Congratulations to you both." She said cooly, "I hope you two are happy together." She was happy for him, though a little annoyed that he hadn't mentioned a partner in his life. That went along with his need for privacy, she supposed-- and did her best not to be irritated. Miranda was a competent healer-- Mai had seen her a few times in the past.

Mai's eyes met Ignan's. "Do I have your permission to destroy Lil Snigger for you?"

What do you mean, it’s happened to you?

It had been a slip of the tongue, his admission, and one Rick found himself deeply regretting.

After dating Charlotte, the grumpy werewolf was familiar enough with the whole thing. Before her, his mother’s career had been enough to keep the whole family firmly under the spotlight. Luckily the attention had been brief, considering how reckless he had been in his youth (not to mention quite some time before any of his students had been old enough to find it remotely interesting), but the ribbing he had received from friends, family, and colleagues alike had been annoying beyond belief. He’d had to work twice as hard to make the worst of his clients take him seriously, and kick out gawkers from his shop on a near regular basis.

And now that he was teaching at Hogwarts, it was, essentially, the same shit all over again. No one was sticking a camera in his face –anymore– and the more work he gave, the less crap he had to put up with in class—but there was still… stuff. That he had to deal with.

(Like students trying to– touch him. While his back was turned. Thankfully none of the other staff members had ever been around to witness or even hear of any of the attempts, not even Shona, but it only a matter of time. It was always only a matter of time. Rick cringed at the very thought of it.)

Libel wasn’t the same as getting stalked or skeeved out by students, but it was damn nice not to be the target of unwanted attention for once. He needed this. He was going to enjoy this, dammit.

Without anyone’s scrutiny.

No he glowered at Camille, silently willing her to avert her attention onto someone else –Ignan, preferably– anyone but him. He felt a slight twinge of shame in doing so, but it seemed to have worked anyway, at least for the time being.

Focus diverted, Rick slunk over to the coffeemaker unnoticed. While the witches posed their questions, he poured himself a mug and oh so casually – quietly – padded out of the room.


Exit Rick

Rick's response to Camille's query wasn't kind, but in retrospect, what might she have expected. She raised her eyebrows and blinked at his glare, averting her eyes and taking a step back from the group to diffuse the tension. He would have given her late husband a run for his money on glares. Ignan's return to the group eased it all and Rick slipped away. Camille made a mental note to quietly apologise to him at a later date.

Maiko appeared a little put out by the fact this news came after the event. Ignan was a little surprised to hear it from her, although his colleague could be opinionated, she was also the most accommodating for people's shortcomings.
"Do I have your permission to destroy Lil Snigger for you?"

"You can have first hex if you insist." Ignan replied as politely as he could, touched at her solidarity, but not sure how to react. He nodded to her, making direct eye contact, trying to convey this.
"Might be mercy." Camille remarked, wringing her hands, regretting both the remark to Rick and also the approach in general to Ignan in the staff room. Her haste had been at the loss of discretion.
"At this precise moment, yes." Ignan admitted, the magazine rolled and crushed in a grip from both hands as he gritted his teeth. "There is no point us confiscating them, it will only fuel their currency." He let go of the magazine with his left hand and brought it back down on his palm. "Snigger can only hope Miranda doesn't reach her first." He dipped his head at the assembled group. "Thank you. I best get on. Weather this out…"


End