It was late for the lunch hour, admittedly, but Balfour generally took work meals whenever he could get them - or whenever Mrs Lanningham could squeeze them in. The cancellation of an appointment later that day meant he had ample time to spend with his companion, however, and it was always better not to rush anything around Ira Almasy.

“… and of course I didn’t know enough French to understand what the hell he was saying,” the wizard explained as they stepped out of Alohomocha into the light snowfall that had been descending on to London all day. He nursed a salted caramel hot chocolate - much too sweet for Ira - as she took his arm, sipping at her own black coffee. 

They were friendly once again, perhaps for the first since she had drugged him to sleep before Christmas. He found it difficult to stay angry when they were so comfortable in the company of one another’s flaws. ”And he hexed you because of it?” she asked idly, with an air of distraction.

Balfour was about to respond when he bumped elbows with someone, jostling his drink and spilling some of it on the passersby. “Goodness, sorry!” he turned immediately, stifling a swear as they held up street traffic.

It wasn’t often that the witch chose to visit Diagon Alley and have a leisurely afternoon. She avoided being out in public as much as possible, scared of reactions when people had to shop with the werewolf who’d been accused of murder. It was unfortunate that Hannah Bombay had chosen this afternoon to spend a leisurely afternoon in Diagon Alley. She cursed as the hot liquid split over her robes, sinking through the thick material that covered badly scarred arms.

“It’s alright.” She replied to the wizard’s voice as she patted the cloth to see the damage done. Her gaze floated up to meet the handsome face with a weak smile. “No damage d-”

Beside him, a figure towered, blonde and pale. Looming.

Ira’s interest in the humorous misunderstandings of Balfour Spectre fell away almost as soon as she laid eyes on the She Wolf looking up at the pair of them. Her lips spread into an amused smile, delighted at this happenstance occurrence. Next to her, Balfour did not appear to have noticed anything was amiss besides his own clumsiness. 

Exceptionally clumsy for a graceful man.

“Hannah Bombay!” he exclaimed in such a way that you would think he had just spotted a rare Kappa in the fireplace. “Merlin. I do apologise, I have the worst luck when I take out.” 

Another, past incident flickered through both their minds but Ira was much quicker to forget it as she played the polite associate. “Introductions, Balfour…“

His brow furrowed confusedly, looking between the witches. “Oh. Right. No, I don’t actually know Miss Bombay myself.” Balfour’s cheeks coloured, as red as his freezing nose. “Balfour Spectre. I’m a… ah, Johann might have said. I’m an acquaintance of his,” he held out a hand to Hannah self-consciously. Ira snorted lightly at the term. 

The ejaculation of her name from his lips, or the second apology for knocking the drink over her were barely registered in the witch’s mind. Her gaze was instead frozen on the tall and slender witch staring down at her with far too tickled a smile. Her primary instinct was to turn and run. But they were in public; and the wizard was continuing to speak.
 
Alert eyes of a threatened prey finally pulled themselves away from the predator to the hand being offered as an introduction.
“Acquaintance?” Hannah didn’t yet take his hand to shake. Almasy had snorted. Hannah felt extremely self-conscious as she then looked up to the tall wizard. “How friendly an acquaintance?”

He was well aware that Ira had a way of… attracting attention. It was difficult to look away from her, you had the feeling she might strike if you weren’t paying enough attention. Even so, Hannah’s reaction to the older woman was rather unexpected.

“Quite, I suppose.” Balfour deferentially ignored it, internally panicking as to how to describe his relationship with Johann and wondering if there was any reason not to outright say it. “I mean, more than simply quite friendly. Um."

Ira interjected, both to his relief and displeasure. ”Lovebirds, is what my assistant calls you,” she purred in a charmed voice before fixing Hannah with unnatural benevolence - it was alarming to anyone who’d known her for long. ”Don’t mind him Miss Bombay. He has dragons and beasts on his mind. Are you an especial friend of Mister Storm’s?” 

Lovebirds. The way Ira tenderly communicated to words and the look she was pinning Hannah with made the much younger and much slighter witch feel physically nauseated. She was trapped in an internal debate; did she admit to being Johann’s friend? How would Almasy be able to use that? She’d not laid eyes on the witch since the 5th of November when she’d been brutally forced to save her uncle’s life.

Now Johann’s lovebird (a word she guessed could only mean boyfriend / wizard he was courting) was socialising with her own torturer.

“I am.” The words came out quietly, unsure; she hated herself for it. Why couldn’t she sound stronger and more forceful?
Making a conscious decision to ignore Almasy, Hannah fixed the wizard with a look. “He hasn’t mentioned you.”

She still hadn’t shaken his hand.

It seemed that Johann Storm was increasing in value as a form of currency, as time went on. How novel. Ira watched while her consort lowered his hand awkwardly and she saw the uncertainty in his mannerisms, usually accompanied by better social finesse. Any mention of his partner changed his typical disposition. Singularly irritating. 

He recovered evenly. “I’m sorry to hear that. He speaks highly of you,” Balfour’s voice was soft and meaningful. Difficult to tell how genuine, and she’d seen him in her fair share of soirees. His arm returned to where she held it, and she squeezed imperceptibly in reassurance. 

Like an afterthought, he gestured at Ira. “This is Ira Almasy, if I may.” His eyes crinkled with a quiet smile that told her he was grateful for the company. “Our landlord, actually."

In the split second it took her to weigh courtesies, Ira met Hannah’s gaze. And then she extended her own hand, matching it with a smile that dared the She Wolf to refuse the offer of introduction. “I’ve read of you in the papers.” Ira remarked absently. “The media in this country is very cruel."

Hannah stared once more at a hand offered to her before back up to the witch offering it. Landlady. Very quickly the pieces fit together and the memory of being a broken mess in Johann’s apartment suddenly seemed far worse. It has technically been her tormentors apartment.

Weighing her options for a moment, she reached a hand out and squeezed Ira’s, shaking it.

“People who believe the papers are as well.” Ira Almasy had a fine-tuned comprehension of cruel. “Are you an acquaintance of Johann’s?”

Balfour felt oddly appeased on Ira’s behalf as he watched the two women shake hands, and he did not seem to wonder at the exchange because it seemed a natural thing for people not to refuse the Russian aristocrat. He was glad not to be alone, though even gladder if Johann had been here. 

Hannah’s dislike for the papers was one he sympathised with, though he didn’t say so. The only publication he disapproved of out loud was the Witch’s Weekly.

“Only through Balfour.” Ira answered with an elegant shrug, aware of Balfour’s ignorance. “We are old friends, are we not?” she returned her hand to the crook of his elbow, smiling kindly and enjoying the act of putting on a show. He only smiled by way of response. 

No doubt his attention was on rousing this new fellowship. “We must have you over for dinner sometime, Hannah.” He stepped aside as a throng of children walked by, winter hats bobbing along Diagon Alley gracelessly and boots crunching against the snow. “Johann and I, I mean."

A mention of dinner and bright eyes darted to Almasy before landing once more on Balfour. He was trying to be friendly. Was he a truly friendly wizard or was it a show like his companion? How could anyone be a good person if friendly with such a monster?
As Hannah considered her next move, she made a conscious decision to stop being the prey trapped in the gaze of the predator. She stood up a little straighter and offered Balfour a smile.

“That would be lovely. It’s really wonderful he’s found someone he can be a lovebird with. I’m sure he’d have mentioned you but I’ve not seen him since the 5th November. It was probably enough for him. What with my avalanche of a life.” She resisted a glance at Ira. “But he’s found you. Lovely.”

Balfour’s tight, civil smile thawed into a gentler one as Hannah finally started to resemble a less belligerent persona, and he fought to suppress the natural excitement of getting to know one of Johann’s friends. It was his natural belief all of them shared the opinion that his lover was a profoundly exceptional human being. 

“He did find me!” he exclaimed happily. “And how lucky I am that he did.” 

Ira laughed, presumably at his poorly contained affection. ”Don’t start gushing again, we’ve only just eaten,” she said fondly but he was beyond admonishment. 

“We have been awfully busy as well but I won’t forgive myself if we can’t make time for you.” Balfour continued in his usual way. 

“He has my address.” She commented as she considered digging her pocket watch out and escaping from the situation. Almasy would have been looking for it. She’d have enjoyed watching the young witch squirm at the horror of meeting her in public.

“Right, your address, wonderful.” Balfour flashed his teeth at the small witch, Ira watching. “I grill a fantastic steak, we may make an evening of it. And wine! He’s always ordering wine."

Bombay was more mouse than wolf, writhing under her paw. It was a magnificent thing to watch - almost as amusing as Balfour’s ignorance of how intimately their paths crossed. And would cross, in the future. Ira cleared her throat delicately at the indecorous delight the wizard exhibited for the Storm boy. They weren’t fit for public viewing, at this rate. 

He took the hint as smoothly as he did everything else.

“I must be keeping you,” his gaze grew endearingly diffident. “But I’m delighted, really. So pleased we bumped into one another.” 

Almost overlapping the thought, Ira joined in - her tone authentically content. “A complete pleasure Miss Bombay."

“A pleasure.” The healer responded as calmly as she could manage. She offered a smile to the couple. “Tell Johann to get in contact to arrange that meal.” Not that she’d attend now. She didn’t look at Almasy again. Instead she turned on her heel and walked down the alley, as slowly and calmly as her feet would carry her. She felt like a target retreating to a safe distance. But when she rounded a corner, she fell against the wall, suddenly letting out a breath, panicking, panting.

She wasn’t leaving the flat again.
   

Smiles were mirrored as they parted, finally giving way to the passersby. The snow fell at a heavier rate and it was wiser perhaps to be indoors than outside in the cold. Balfour turned to continue down the alley but met with resistance as his companion looked over her shoulder at Hannah’s retreating figure.

“Oh, Miss Bombay?” Ira called effetely through the chattering crowds. “The photographs don’t do you justice. That is a lovely smile you have.” 

It was exactly the sort of thing only she could get away with saying, and have it come across as perfectly normal. Balfour shot her a perplexed look as she looked back to him, smiling to herself. “What was that about?” he asked. 

“You don’t know anything about witches.” Ira murmured patronisingly. “Now what were you saying about the Frenchman?