A pregnant silence appeared to build after the gift was offered but it was promptly interrupted by the reappearance for Professor Storm and, Sasha was relieved to see, Gerda.  The house elf’s warm greeting was a pleasant contrast to proceeding few minutes.  He returned the elf’s broad smile as he accepted the cup of black tea and murmured a danke as he cradled the warm ceramic between his fingers. 

Sasha glanced up when Professor Storm inquired about his exams, pleased he'd remembered, but turned his attention towards the Healer as she spoke of the gift.  It was obvious, by now, that the gift had missed the mark.  That had been a possibility, of course.  “I have a redwood bonsai back on my desk in Ravenclaw tower,” Sasha answered simply.  “Thank you, though.”

The Ravenclaw had, of course, hoped he would have been able to leave his new step mother with a good impression and, perhaps, leave on relatively good terms.  Such results would make things easier in the long run.  But, he'd also accepted that such an outcome might not even be possible.  Luckily, by the nature of gifts, she was free to do with it what she preferred.

Sasha took a deep breath and turned back to his father.  "I think they went well, all things considered.  I'm most confident with how the physics exam went - it's part of what Professor Trishna studied."  Comparing general physics and astrophysics was likely an over simplification but sufficient, given the current audience.  "It was helpful to have someone to ask for clarifications." 

"I guess I find out NEWTs and A-Levels sometime in August."  Sasha grinned.  He was going to have to find something to occupy his mind with while he waited.  "Then I'll know if I'll be able to go to muggle university.  Or, Laevenstrome.  Or, if I'll have to find something else." 

“Exams? Perhaps you’d better benefit from the rake and sand pot, Sasha.” Miranda remarked, and Ignan’s gaze fell back on the items on the table beside the tea tray. Unlike his wife, Ignan had heard of such. Although he’d not chosen to travel to the far east, his travelling partner of a decade had after they parted, and Georg had told him much once they had become reacquainted as Hogwarts colleagues. It didn’t mean he shared his son’s belief of their helpful purpose, or potential interest to Miranda, though.

“I have a redwood bonsai back on my desk in Ravenclaw tower, thank you, though.” Sasha replied evenly to the witch in Ignan’s armchair. Gerda gave them a little bow, looking far too pleased with herself, and left the awkward trio to their fates. Sasha turned to regard Ignan a little better. His father reciprocated unconsciously, Miranda remaining in his peripheral vision.

“I think they went well, all things considered. I’m most confident with how the physics exam went - it’s part of what Professor Trishna studied.” Professor Storm regarded the younger wizard carefully, resting his forearms across his lap, and nodded at the comparison. Tapendra had attempted to elaborate on several occasions. “It was helpful to have someone to ask for clarifications. I guess I find out NEWTs and A-Levels sometime in August. Then I’ll know if I’ll be able to go to muggle university. Or, Laevenstrome. Or, if I’ll have to find something else.”

“Given the hours and dedication,” Ignan ventured with authenticity, “I doubt you will have reason to look elsewhere.” He shifted slightly, still ignoring his cup of tea, “I cannot necessarily understand your reasons for keeping such a grip on your Muggle upbringing,” he added, “only to respect you are attempting to achieve the best of what both worlds have to offer.”

Sasha’s paternal grandfather would have thought the boy odd for studying Muggle techniques, but would have admired his academic dedication. Then, he might not have got that far unless Sasha had been able to demonstrate a stronger backbone and answer back once in a while. The Ravenclaw was able to demonstrate impeccable manners even in the face of Miranda who was goading him for her own sport, and maybe even to get back at Ignan for not disclosing the blood ties until he was more comfortable in their partnership.

Ignan’s gaze faltered momentarily to glance at his wife, anticipating a scoff as he asked Sasha:
“Have you any further thoughts on where your studies might take you at Laevenstrome, or do you remain drawn to non-magical subjects?”

The boy had manners that he certainly hadn’t taken from his absentee father. Of course, he already had a ridiculous minute tree and sand back at Hogwarts. Mira considered querying if he used it regularly to become mindless.  Was that how Hogwarts students coped with the pressure of exams controlling their future? Did they all waste significant time raking small pots of sand? The look Ignan had given her when he’d entered the room deterred the witch, deciding an argument was better over something she felt far stronger about.

Laevenstrome was at least an understandable endeavour. A continuation of muggle education past the age of 11 was not. Accustomed to a perfected poker face, Miranda let her gaze float between father and son as they discussed the boy’s muggle bound future.

The witch tried to busy herself with her tea, continuing to sip while her stare settled on Sasha and she intently studied him. The intensity could often be uncomfortable.
“What purpose could non-magical studies possibly serve other than should you plan to abandon our world? It’s about as ridiculous as me hiring a muggle trained healing practitioner, or Doctor was they call themselves, who believes in chopping people up and draining their blood like some barbarian.”

“No offence, Sasha, but if you pursued a muggle education, you won’t get a decent job in our world.”

Despite himself, Sasha grinned at the vote of confidence from Professor Storm.  But, the grin faltered and Sasha took a deep breath when the topic inevitably shifted to his future plans.  With the exception of a few choice individuals - Professor Trishna and Dreogan Eleor, namely - Sasha had remained fairly vague about what he planned to do with his admittedly eclectic education.  Despite his own enthusiasm, he was well aware of how they were perceived in the wizarding world and there was no need to create unnecessary difficulties for himself before he had even started. 

While Professor Storm may not understand, Sasha had been optimistic he wouldn’t be completely dismissive.  The nature of his question seemed to confirm that.  Miranda Storm, on the other hand, was an unknown entity and Sasha had arrived on the doorsteps with high hopes of leaving a half-way decent impression. 

That hope had been fading rapidly and this turn in the conversation was ringing its proverbial death knell. 

“Our Astronomy professor, Professor Trishna, managed well enough with both a magical and muggle education.  Hogwarts professor seems like a respectably decent job,” Sasha pointed out, turning towards Miranda Storm.  “I know it may make it harder, but not impossible.  I'll still have thirteen NEWTs, which ought to be worth something.  Luckily, I won’t be financially dependent on my employment, so I have the luxury of taking some risks.” 

He looked between the witch and the wizard - the two closest thing to a family he had - and tried to quickly decide how to best answer Professor Storm’s question.

“It’s not really about achieving the best of both individual world,” Sasha offered, looking towards Professor Storm.  “It’s more about … better understanding how the two worlds interact.  We look at them as binary and completely separate.  But, in the natural world, they aren’t completely separate, right?  I … I couldn’t be here, if that were the case.”  Perhaps because it was such a new aspect of his identity, Sasha had given quite a bit of thought to the implications of being a halfblood. 

“Haven’t you ever found it curious that, of all the species on this planet, we appear to be the only one that has magically-competent and magically-incompetent individuals?  I'd even thought of asking you-"  Sasha started but quickly caught himself.  That question could wait for later.  He had a feeling he was doing enough damage just describing the gist of what he wanted to do.  Specifics could wait for a time when Mrs. Storm wasn't around. 

"I’m not really interested in having a muggle physician work in St. Mungo’s,” he looked back at the Healer.  “I know the statute of secrecy is necessary.  I’m more interested in understanding how cells age faster in magically-incompetent people than in magically-competent people.  Or why electronics don't work at Hogwarts, but the electrical impulses in our heart and nerves aren't effected.  We’re the same species.  Which implies we share an evolutionary history but do we even know which came first?” 

Sasha pursed his lips and looked down at his hands.  "Unfortunately, there isn’t really a distinct education or career path for that.  But, if I study both and start with where they intersect, then maybe I can start there.” 

Sasha appeared pleased with the Professor’s response, which was fortunate. Ignan felt that he’d managed to do something decent for once towards Sasha, which he wasn’t very good at doing ordinarily.

“What purpose could non-magical studies possibly serve, other than should you plan to abandon our world?” Miranda asked scathingly. “It’s about as ridiculous as me hiring a muggle-trained healing practitioner, or ‘Doctor’ as they call themselves, who believes in chopping people up and draining their blood like some barbarian.”

Her husband set his jaw in mild irritation at her opinion.
“No offence, Sasha,” oh there definitely was, Ignan thought as his gaze smoothly transferred to his wife from his son, “but if you pursue a muggle education, you won’t get a decent job in our world.”

Schlagenweit had countered this argument before, given he had to convince the likes of Minerva before, when embarking on both sets of studies. He could muster a half-decent argument in an essay, so Ignan did not leap in to provide any defence.
“Our Astronomy professor, Professor Trishna, managed well enough with both…” He did, though it didn’t stop Ignan (even though he considered him a best friend until reuniting with Georg and marrying Mira) thinking he was rather strange in his ways. “Hogwarts professor seems like a respectably decent job...”

There was a minute inclination of Ignan’s head, enough to suggest to his wife that although he agreed with Sasha, that definition wasn’t strictly true for all his colleagues past.

Sasha did protest a decent argument, though regrettably he did come across as quite the attempted overachiever. Miranda was clever, Ignan dared she might have more intellectual ability than he, though they had long established her shortcomings in his practical expertise. Sasha was a bookish sort, always attempting feats of memory. He lacked common sense often, which suggested he rather did share the same blood as some other Storms they all knew…

“But, in the natural world, they aren’t completely separate, right? I… I couldn’t be here, if that were the case.” Ignan let out a long, low exhalation, averting his eyes downwards at the tea tray. “… I’d even thought of asking you-” Ignan glanced up in surprise at being posed with some sort of question about species, and studied Sasha carefully, but the younger wizard changed his mind.

“It is a more modern approach, certainly,” the Professor agreed with Sasha. “Miranda and I come from a time where the connections were considered unnecessary, unimaginable to pursue, and certainly, as Miranda says, those who have left the magical world for some time can find it more difficult to find work. Well, in more traditional senses. I wouldn’t want to comment on the private research or even of the… questionable… British Ministry.” He shrugged one shoulder more than the other. “Certainly you are fortunate to have privilege not to worry about money, in the short term at least.” He glanced to Miranda, seeking confirmation that neither of them had been ultimately fortunate not to worry about seeking work within months or a year of leaving school. “If only we had been as lucky in our own histories.”

Ignan would obviously agree with his son’s suggestion of Hogwarts Professor being a respectable job. Miranda, on the other hand, could think of little worse. She’d been close enough and the thought was dreadful. Far better jobs and careers were out there. But perhaps that was all the job wanted to do with his life. Perhaps after all of this pointless education he would educate children about muggles and their weird quirks. It was needless to say that a young Miranda had never considered an OWL in Muggle Studies.

As if to make him seem stranger, the boy began to tell the couple of his interests in muggle cells and electrical impulses. Had he spent a lifetime with his head in a book?

There wasn’t much immediate opportunity to interrupt the tide of words spilling from the teen’s mouth. Ignan appeased the him, discussing the different situations they’d grown up in and Miranda had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes. Apparently, the boy had money. No wonder he felt he could have forever to waste it on an Education that wouldn’t help him in the future and the absentee father wasn’t discouraging it. Briefly, the witch had a fleeting gratitude that she’d not met Ignan earlier in life where they would have had a child together. He seemed oblivious to the need to advise your offspring.

“The heart isn’t driven by electrical impulses, Sasha.” The witch wasn’t going to move past his silly misconception. “That’s an explanation the muggles have come up with for something that they don’t understand. It’s nothing to do with being competent with magic. You have magic or you don’t. You know about magic or you don’t. Most people in this world fail to understand why you would wish to fill your mind with the pointless knowledge of ignorant muggles.”

A glance in Ignan’s direction made Miranda rethink her words. Sasha was Ignan’s son, not her own.

“You’re speaking to someone who has fix the hash muggle doctors have made treating diseases they know nothing about. To people in my profession, muggles are imbeciles.” She gave a shrug and took a sip of tea.

In the proverbial soap opera that was the corridors of Hogwarts, different professors tended to assume different character archetypes.  Some, like Professor Frasier, played the warm fatherly type.  Professor Trishna, the eccentric though friendly uncle whose name often prompted eye rolls from the adults in the room.  Professor Storm was, undoubtedly, grouped among the more rigid and uncompromising denizens of the castle. 

Which was why it was peculiar to find Professor Storm assuming the role of the more flexible of the pair.  Perhaps it was simply the difference between the professional and personal self or a symptom of the situation Sasha had created.  Maybe it was a byproduct of Professor Storm’s recent brush with death.  Or, maybe that had always been the dynamic between the two.  If so, Sasha couldn't help but wonder if that was why they worked as a pair.  He glanced between the two before Professor Storm spoke.

“Miranda and I come from a time where the connections were considered unnecessary, unimaginable to pursue

“For understandable reasons.  It’s a fairly common predicament.  Different people, cultures, even academic disciplines develop their own understanding of what they perceive based on their own norms and experiences.  Sometimes it takes someone who can see things from both sides to, you know, see the forest for the trees.  Even Hogwarts classes are starting to engage in more cross-subject collaborations.  Herbology taught with Potions to better understand how they two interact.  This is no different.” 

Mrs. Storm’s rebuttal intrigued him and, already, a flurry of questions and comments were simmering in his head.  The content of what she said neither offended nor bothered him; he wanted to see and engage in more conversations on the topic.  The differences in perspective were what excited and intrigued him and he was starting to grow bored with just discussing the matter with those that agreed.  The more people questioned him, the more focused his ideas on what to study became. 

If he, well, didn't care what she thought about him, he'd have no hesitation about delving into a full debate.  But, he couldn’t tell whether Mrs. Storm was engaging in the conversation because of some interest on her end or if she was just taking advantage of another opportunity to take another swipe at him.  If it was the later, a rebuttal would likely just annoy her.

Sasha glanced between the two before looking down at the discarded gift. 

“You’re speaking to someone who has fix the hash muggle doctors have made treating diseases they know nothing about. To people in my profession, muggles are imbeciles.”

He couldn’t help himself and he quickly realized it probably didn't matter.  Despite his efforts since he'd arrived, he hadn't managed a decent first impression so it wasn't like there was anything he was trying to protect.  If she felt it was in her right to lecture him about the repercussions of muggles treating witches, he wasn’t going to just politely accept it.

“I’m more than aware of the potential implications of muggle doctors not understanding what their dealing with.  But, one can’t exactly point fingers at old Rome for thinking the sun revolved around the Earth.  Calling muggles imbeciles for not understanding magical physiology is about as fair as calling an infant an imbecile for not knowing advanced arithmancy.  It’s about as helpful, as well.  Wouldn’t … developing a cohesive understanding that can be used and applied by both magical healers and muggle doctors be a more effective way to avoid hash jobs than just discrediting those that are doing the best with what they have?” 

As Miranda listened to the child’s words, she gripped her teacup, fighting the urge to take him down several pegs in what some might consider a viciously tongued manner. She would have had Ignan not been there. But who was she really the angriest at? The young wizard who had no career path and was instead claiming to be omnipotent in all issues including her medical speciality, or the wizard who’d thought it acceptable to lie about the former’s existence?

The conversation could go one of two ways, she figured. She could calmly explain how little her truly understood and the importance of their statute of secrecy and how that prevented his naïve ideas. She could go to town on the boy, enjoying making him feel like an idiot. Or she could bow out sensibly and conserve her marriage. Ignan put up with most things from his wife; he enjoyed her vicious tongue the majority of the time. Today, with his son, he probably wasn’t so eager to sit and watch.

With her decision made, Miranda suddenly shoved her hand into her trouser pocket and retrieved a now steaming hot healer’s badge. She placed the teacup on the coffee table and stood.

“Duty calls.” A glance was sent in the direction of her husband who would know exactly what was happening. With any luck, he’d get rid of the young wizard sooner rather than later so Miranda could return home and enjoy what was left of their afternoon.

She didn’t look at Sasha again before she threw the powder into the fireplace and stepped into the flames to take her to her office at the hospital.

Miranda was keen to correct her newly acquainted step-son when it came to healing and muggle interpretations. Ignan couldn’t comment exactly, it wasn’t his area and Mira was Head Healer. Sasha was somewhat on his own in this debate. However, she seemed to cut herself off before she went too far. Ignan wondered if she remembered she was only talking to a young man who wasn’t one of her healers, nor a trainee. In parallel, Sasha, the boy of a hundred and two questions, seemed to swallow them down with Miranda’s reception.

Inside, Ignan sighed. For all her maternal swipes at her husband for hiding Sasha’s existence, she was proving to be less parental than Ignan’s terrible attempts to date. If he interrupted now, Mira would think Sasha couldn’t stand on his own two feet and parry back.

Oh… here it came.

“… about as fair as calling an infant an imbecile for not knowing advanced arithmancy. It’s about as helpful, as well…”

Another internal sigh, this time with an external wince which he covered with a subtle rub to his recovering right shoulder. Whether coincidentally, or by the blessing of fate, Miranda was summoned by her badge. There wasn’t a moment to stand on ceremony, as she vanished into the fireplace. The two wizards on the sofa looked on in surprise.

Gerda reappeared in a shot, carrying a pair of shoes, also staring at the fireplace as the flames flickered back into embers from the floo.
“Did Mistress…?”
“To London, yes.” Ignan replied, still staring at the fireplace without blinking, not requiring the full question. “Best take them to her.” Gerda popped out of sight, complete with shoes.

The Professor exhaled slowly and looked back to Sasha. He wasn’t going to apologise for Miranda. If any apologies were uttered, it would be from the witch herself, and hell might freeze over first.
“As first meetings go,” he began, “I’m sure there have been better. But, I have to consider that it was very nearly over my corpse.” He gestured with an upturned left hand, “there is always worse.” He settled back a little against the sofa, now solely considering Sasha. “Don’t take it personally. She certainly doesn’t.”

At first, Sasha, the boy with a hundred questions, had tried to keep his curiosity and need-to-piece-apart-every-detail in check.  And, for a few brief moments, he’d been successful.  But, when Mrs. Storm started talking about patching up muggle doctor hack jobs, it had been the boy who’d lost his sister not four months before to a very similar situation that had responded.  It had been an extension of a desperate attempt to understand why and a painful reflex from a still-sore wound.
 
Not that it seemed to matter.
 
Not that anything he’d done or didn’t do seemed to have mattered.
 
Sasha’s shoulders slumped as Mrs. Storm made a hasty retreat through the fireplace.  In the next breath, Gerda followed suit in a flurry of activity.  The Ravenclaw watched the whole scene blankly, feeling numb and defeated.  In the quiet that followed the house elf’s departure, Sasha could feel Professor Storm’s attention shift towards him.  His gaze settled, again, on the small wooden box in the middle of the table and quietly picked it up, slipped it in his pocket before folding his arms in his laps. 

“As first meetings go,” he began, “I’m sure there have been better. But, I have to consider that it was very nearly over my corpse.”

"I know.  I'm ... I understand not being too keen on unexpected visitors.  Given everything.  In hindsight, this does seem like a bad idea.  I should have-"  What?  Continued to wait for the right time and hope that time came before it was too late?  Not pushed the issue in the first place?  "I'm sorry.  I didn't meant to cause trouble." 

Slowly, he shook his head.  "I can't imagine she'll be very interested in a second meeting.  As far as first impressions go, I pretty much biffed that.  I don't want to be intrusive." 

“You’re not intrusive,” the Professor rebutted “Miranda’s irritation is with me, not with you.” Merlin, this was awkward. “She’s uncomfortable, and it’s her own problem, not ours.”

The older wizard sighed audibly this time and finally reached for his own cup of tea with his left arm.
“This month hasn’t been particularly stress-free for her. Being Head Healer of St Mungo’s brings enough without an unhinged stalker and a former employee lying their way into our home, resulting in arrests and my almost certain death. But that is not to say there was ever going to be a good time to meet you - but that a fortnight ago it would have been potentially the worst of all times. I …”

No, he wasn’t going to apologise for her. Though he very nearly was.

"She’s not at her best. As you can imagine, I’ve been rather under her feet here, and she’s convinced I’ll take a turn for the worse. She’s not the easiest to get on with, partly why I married her.” The corner of his mouth upturned for a moment before he took a healthy sip of cooling tea. “As I say... futilely given your current expression… don’t take it personally.”

Since the beginning of the visit, Sasha had gotten the feeling that there was some subtext to the situation that he wasn't understanding.  Confusion flickered across the Ravenclaw's and he glanced up at Professor Storm. 

"Why would she be irritated with you?  Does she think you asked me to come without telling her?"  As far as Sasha could tell, Professor Storm had remained fairly neutral throughout the entire exchange.  If he'd said or done something that would have been interpreted as offensive, it had slipped by Sasha completely unnoticed.  Not knowing either of them as well as, presumably, they knew each other, that could very well have been the case. 

The residual tension from the pre-departure conversation was gradually ebbing and, with a sigh, Sasha settled back against the couch.  It was difficult to completely separate himself from the sting of the previous conversation, he could understand what Professor Storm was saying.  At least, he was trying and he probably had more of a reference point than most of his classmates.   

"She’s not at her best. As you can imagine, I’ve been rather under her feet here, and she’s convinced I’ll take a turn for the worse."

Sasha looked up, startled.  "You aren't actually going to, are you?  I mean, that's not actually a risk?"  That was a possibility he wasn't keen to consider.  He'd be okay if it was a decent amount of time before he saw anymore family members buried. 

“As I say... futilely given your current expression… don’t take it personally.”

"No, it's alright.  I understand."  He'd been overly optimistic and had set himself up for disappointment.  "I just really hoped to leave a better impression than ... whatever it happens to be.  Timing could have been better but I did just want to know you were doing better before, you know, finding out as a student." 

Then, thinking back to that strange conversation.  "You do know I'm glad you're not dead, right?"

“You do know I’m glad you’re not dead, right?”

The older wizard gave his counterpart a look of mild surprise, not that he had ever imagined Sasha would want him dead, but because the younger man decided he needed to specifically say.
“Of course,” the Professor replied, “Daresay the majority of the students in the castle have wanted me dead at one point or another, but the number who’d dance on my grave isn’t all that high, despite rumour.” He lifted his eyebrows at that mild joke.

Sasha had littered questions between his explanations, unable to keep quiet until his father had said what he meant. Ignan turned the teacup on his saucer, watching the rotation, pausing to consider what he could say.
“You understand I should be dead,” he began, tentatively glancing up to Sasha, feeling altogether guilty, “this is uncharted waters in healing terms. Healer Hughes may eventually write a paper on me as case study, which will make a pleasant change from the Prophet or that awful magazine. But I’ve no intentions of going anywhere.” He gave Sasha a sincere nod. They both knew he couldn’t entirely control that, but Ignan had no interest in putting his own life in danger in the short term at least.

“Miranda’s upset with me for the manner in which I kept your existence quiet until we’d seen each other for six or so months. Split between considering me - rightfully” Ignan gave the briefest of uneasy smiles, “-a terrible parent, and unable to demonstrate herself as any better due to feeling betrayed by me for not disclosing early on in our relationship.” Ignan shrugged and winced visibly, “blame lies entirely with me.”

The older man's surprise was, in its own peculiar way, reassuring.  "She seemed to wonder that.  I wasn't sure if it was just her." 

From what little he knew of the man, both inside and out of the classroom, Sasha trusted him to at least be honest.  Sasha had never known Professor Storm to blunt, soften or otherwise repackage his words to make them palatable.  If the question surprised him, Sasha felt comfortable accepting the question had come from Mrs. Storm, alone. 

"Well, you were a bit of a transition from Professor Mainwaring."  His mouth pursed slightly into a near-grin.  Seven years had almost come and gone; in hindsight, it felt like a miracle he'd made it.  "Between him, Professor Gunnar and his bananas, we were use to a different sort.  I haven't heard as many death wishes; Ravenclaws are a bit more creative.  More ... squid abductions or senility-inspired roughing it with centaurs."  Was he violating some sort of student pact? 

Sasha winced, offering a non-committal nod when he spoke of those long days at St. Mungo's.  "I'd guessed that.  The Healers weren't really forthcoming with me, but I knew from Johann that it wasn't ... simple."  Back at school, it had been even harder to get information.  He'd sought out Professor Duerr, when she was there, and tried to express appropriately casual interest with other professors.  In the end, owling Johann had been the safest and most effective way to stay informed.  "When will it be, you know, full healed?  Or, is it one of those things that never dose?" 

"I think I understand but, at the same time, I can't really relate."  He'd, obviously, never had that kind of romantic relationship.  Beyond that, "I don't think I've ever had a relationship that wasn't based on some sort of lie or concealment.  My parents.  Malvivicus.  Jacoba.  Classmates at school - either school.  This.  It's exhausting, sometimes, but it doesn't seem that abnormal.  So, I can kind of see but ... not really?" 

On this long cross country trek through the wilds of Awkwardness, Mrs. Storms assessment of the Terrible Parent was certainly amongst the prime vistas.  Sasha could really only come back to the conclusion he'd come to months before.  "But, you're not under any obligation to be any type of parent and don't I have a say in whether you're terrible or not?"   

“… don’t I have a say in whether you’re terrible or not?”

The Professor watched Schlagenweit explain himself, and then let out a mildly amused ‘heh’ at this final statement.
“No, I don’t know if it will ever heal, or what will happen, but for now I am alive. Just as any of us are.” He lifted a hand to gingerly lay across his chest where Flynn Hughes had carved runes into his skin. They weren’t visible for his clothes today.

“The incident has given me time to reflect, Sasha. When we spoke in January[1] you wanted to be able to speak more freely of our family ties, I was cautious. Selfish - given that it might all have been disclosed, should I have died, without you making a decision, and I’d not have been alive to worry about it.” The Professor swallowed, uncomfortable at the considerations he’d gone through while stuck in St Mungo’s unable to move much.

“As I said then, I say again now, I can’t stop you. I appreciate you have respected my wish to keep our blood ties private. But do you still feel as strongly about disclosure as you did then?”

1.	2nd January 2011 The Year Behind Us