“Herbert, No! That’s not food!” Hannah leapt from her seat at te desk in the middle of the room to snatch her cat from the examining table that currently took up what should have been the second bedroom of her apartment. The ginger feline meowed loudly, protesting to being wrenched from taking a good lick and bite of the rotting leg. Hannah pulled the cat close, fighting the struggling animal to fuss her cheek.
“You won’t eat the cat food I bought yesterday but you’ll feast on a dead man’s leg?” Herbert continued to fidget in her arms until Hannah finally let him jump to the floor, congealed blood still in the fur around his mouth. She could sort that when she was finished and sent the owl to Almasy to confirm the cause of death.

That had been the plan until a knock at the door had startled her and affected the train of thought. The young witch debated ignoring the door but on a glance down at her wrists, still marred by fading pink scars, decided against it. The possibility it was regarding her work for Almasy led her feet from the room, pulling the door to, and along the corridor to the front door which she pulled open.

Now the wizard in the doorway was one she’d not laid eyes on since late September in the ministry cell. They’d both believed then that she had probably hit the lowest and yet since then Hannah had further plummeted. She’d pushed Knox away so he’d not needed to be a part of her troubles. She’d not wanted his soapbox self-righteousness or his connections and money as he tried to help her. Yet in the dark nights, in the times her scars from the silver still burned, she longed to have two huge bearlike arms envelope her, his deep baritone voice to tell her it would be alright.

When her alert eyes settled on the figure filling the doorframe, Hannah’s mouth opened to speak but she couldn’t.
Where had he been when she’d been released from the ministry?
Where had he been when Almasy had broken into her home?[1]
Where had he been when she’d been tied up and nearly strangled by burning chains?[2]
Where had he been when she’d cried herself to sleep?

“You’re a bit late.”
She didn’t move from the door, didn’t allow him entry.

1.	[5th October] Clawing for the Wolf
2.	Shall I Place the Knife in Your Back or Your Leg? - Bonfire night when Hannah refused to heal Lawrence Musgrave and got tortured for it

The holidays had passed pleasantly enough.  He'd gotten to see a bit of Fauna Blake, his former student and current Auror-in-Training, which had been a treat.  He'd been to see his aunts, of course, and Devlin and Maeve came by with his grandson as often as they could, dear sweet thing.  Work had been busy as it should be.  Loads of reading, loads of writing, loads of listening to over-long speeches by filiboisterous solicitors and lawyers. They'd been working with some new but trivial Werewolf legislation, and there were criminal hearings underway regarding the Guy Fawkes bombings. 

But through it all, he was keeping his ears open for any hint of the wellbeing and whereabouts of Hannah Bombay. A witch who was all at the same time a confusing mixture of partner, daughter, cohort, adviser, enemy, and friend.  And since September and the murder of Wolfgang Storm when she tossed him out on proverbial pavement, he'd done his best to do what he found the most difficult - not be such a barge-in, nosy, bombast!

He might have liked to continue meddling in Hannah Bombay's mixed up life (a life that had a lot in common with an avalanche), but she wanted him out.  Knox had to respect that, even though he suspected she'd be worse for it.  But there's no kind way to Say I Told You So.

---

But it had been too long. He had hoped that he'd hear from her over Christmas, and if not then New Year's. And when he didn't, he began to listen a little harder for her. Listen a bit more closely to police reports and Daily Prophet obituaries. He perked up his ears for mention of her name as he walked by her old apartment once or twice. 

---

"I brought you food," he said, offering her a tin. The tin was octagonal and was decorated with a festive holly motif.  He tried not to show that the last few months had aged her to his eyes, nor give any indication that he was relieved to see her at long last. And he certainly wasn't going to express how bothered he was that after all this time, her way of greeting him was to nip him for staying away.

He was much taller than she was but he stood on tip toe to look around her into the apartment, what bit of it he could see..

"Is that Herbert?"

"I brought you food,"
“I have food.” The words escaped before she could think about it or stop them.

Knox looked past the witch into the apartment while Hannah stared at him. He’d done as requested and stayed away; so why was she mad at him? Why did Hannah want to hit him and yell at him for abandoning her? Would she have needed up in this mess if Knox had have been around? Would she have accepted Almasy’s offer and been tied into a cruel blood contract she couldn’t escape? Would her friendship with Knox have stopped her?

“You’ve stayed away so long you can’t remember what my cat looks like?” Arms were folded defensively over her chest; she’d refused to take the tin of food and was refusing to move to let Knox in. The dead body in her spare room was her first reason for not allowed him past. Her anger at him for not finding her sooner and ignoring her request to leave her alone was her second reason.

“Why are you finally showing your face?” Hannah was unsure if she was angrier that he had stayed away or that he’d disobeyed her and shown up now.

"He's enormous!" Knox marveled at how the ginger kitten had grown. Herbert was cleaning himself in a doorway across the apartment.  "Must be a horror."  Kittens were at this age.

Hannah didn't want his biscuits and she didn't want to let him in. She was cross, or pretending to be.  He took a step back to see her better and noticed some marks around her neck. He frowned, but didn't comment.  A moment more and he was smiling innocently again.  Knox should have been more prepared for her interrogation regarding his return, but he wasn't a great liar. Guile was difficult for him as he tended to wield a bigger stick.

"I missed you," he had to say with a shrug.  "Holidays are through, didn't get your card, and thought I'd look you up. You didn't tell me you moved. This is nice."

He didn't mention that he'd been sick with worry and a bit hurt at being banished.  Every time he thought of her, he felt guilty. Her new place certainly was nicer than her previous one which had been burned to a smoldering hole in the wall.  He wondered if this nicer place meant her fortunes were improving. Perhaps she really had done better without him.

"Maybe I should have brought booze," he said, holding up the tin with some regret.

"I missed you,"

Hannah wanted to repeat those words to Knox. But she bit her tongue and remained stoic in the doorway. He couldn’t just show up after months of no contact or concern and say that. She wasn’t going to just fall into his arms for a giant Knox bear hug and let all of the animosity and hurt melt away. He shouldn’t have listened when she told him to back off. He should have been his usual self; he should have disobeyed her and butted in and gotten far too involved.
Why had he listened?

Why hadn’t he bothered to harass her with his bombastic brilliance, pushing her to fight some more. His pompous arrogance made her angry; that anger could have fuelled her fight against Almasy. Instead she’d given in.

"Maybe I should have brought booze,"

“Maybe.”  Despite herself, she smiled softly at the older, larger wizard. She’d really missed him.
She took the tin from him and pulled it open. “Is there an apology note in here? ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been my usual pompous fool who doesn’t listen.” She started to speak in a deep voice, imitating her friend. “’ I don’t know why I stayed away so long. I shouldn’t have listened to you, Hannah.’.”
Bright eyes danced up to Knox from the tin of biscuits; no note inside.

“Herbert missed you.” She stepped back to allow him entry. Times before she may have hugged him and made him feel welcome in her home. Now it felt more like a giant stranger stepped over the threshold into a flat that still wasn’t home. It would never be home.

Oh, her icy heart was dripping with some inkling of warmth after all! She stepped aside to let him in, but instead the old bear wrapped his great arms around her and lifted her full off the ground in a hug that lacked any distance or decorum.

"You wonderful witch!" She weighed nothing to the big fellow, and he twirled until they were both over the threshold. He set her down again, fully expecting her to scratch him with like a cat who didn't appreciate an over-forward pat, but he didn't care.  Her acceptance meant a great deal to him.  If he'd been inhibited at the door, he shed all that and was merry

"Your impression was good! Not exactly flattering but the best impressions never are." He pointed a wry finger towards her.  He took a turn round the available space.  His outburst seemed to have startled Herbert who was out of sight for the moment.  He bent over hands on knees to glance beneath a little table to see if the kitty was there.

"You know, I was thinking of getting a cat myself. Perhaps I'll adopt a persnickety old wanderer. Gain her trust by leaving food in a dish by the door and see if she wanders in.  Why, I could even put in one of those little flaps so she can come and go as she pleases."  He smiled at her. It was good to see her.

There wasn’t an accurate way to describe the assault that came in the form of a hug when Knox stepped over the threshold. Colossal arms mauled her tiny figure, grabbing her with intent, crushing her petit frame into his large belly and chest and flinging her around like a rag doll or a corpse before rigor mortis could set in. The ‘wonderful’ witch could only step back in shock and dismay when she’d been placed back on the floor. Giving her what Knox quite clearly thought of as a ‘hug’ when she wasn’t a willing participant was nothing less than an physical attack from a hairy brute.

As if the onslaught hadn’t occurred, Knox rambled on about her impression and the wish to obtain a familiar that would keep him company in his poky shack in the woods. As he spoke, the witch studied him with alert eyes. She felt a horrible sensation that they’d gone full circle. There’d been a time she’d loathed seeing him as he was a reminder of what she’d become upon being bitten. They’d become comrades over time, a couple dealing with the inequalities of society and their affliction. He’d been the wizard she’d sought comfort in.
Now she didn’t want to see him.
Now he was a reminder of how low she’d sunk.

It hadn’t escaped Hannah that Knox was being his usual jovial self, trying to act normal, as if time hadn’t passed. Hannah was less willing. He’d stayed away so long. He’d missed so much. He hadn’t been there to pick up the broken pieces when Ira Almasy had crushed her.
It looked like life had been good to him.

“I have things to be doing, Mr Greyfriar.”

Ah, not as warm as he thought.  She'd let him in, but she might be showing him out just as quickly.  He had to wonder if this was another one of those cases when she said, 'out' because it was too painful to say, 'stay'. And he in the place to wonder what she'd hold him to later.

He only wanted her to be at peace. There was little peace, however, for werewolves, and far less for Hannah Bombay.

Knox set the tin on the countertop carefully and quieted his smile.

"Just a few minutes," he asked of her. "Let me do your washing up." There was a pile of dishes in the sink. Perhaps the offer would give her an excuse to let him stay for a spell.

It would be a lie to say that Hannah hadn’t thought about Knox Greyfriar since she’d last seen him. During the months that had preceded Wolfgang’s trial he’d been like a father to her, or a best friend. He’d been her only true friend. But she’d sent him away and he’d obeyed. A true friend, she’d told herself, would have ignored that and stayed. Knox was only her friend when it suited him. She’d learnt that the hard way.

“Knock yourself out.” Hannah waved for him to go ahead as she stared at him more intently. He looked good. The stress of his own incarcerations and trials had drained from him leaving a much more content looking wizard. She’d been right to send him away. Without her issues he could thrive. But he was back and, selfishly, she wanted to keep him there.

“It’s not like we can pick off where we left off, Knox.” Hannah decided to point out. Yet despite herself she started to boil the kettle, an usual habit from before when he’d visit. Tea with lemon. No milk. “A lot has changed. I’ve changed.”