Sasha let out a long, slow breath before taking a long sip of his tea.  A stalling tactic as his mind scrambled to mold a jumbled mixture of emotions into a reasonably logical answer.  On one level, the answer was blatantly simple. 

"Yes." 

But the decisive knot his insides had just turned into illustrated that it really wasn't that simple.  Nothing about this whole situation had ever been simple. 

"I know I forced this on you and you didn't ask for it.  I know I'm supposed to be an adult and, maybe, it shouldn't be that important.  But, it's starting to feel awkward when people say I'm muggleborn, like I'm lying all the time.  And, I don't want to keep pretending I'm connected to a man I hate." 

Sasha took another sip of his tea as he took another deep breath.  "But, I don't want to mess things up.  I don't want people to find out because you couldn't stop me.  I ... I want people to know because you want them to." 

The Professor sighed, not out of irritation, more in thought, looking away to the tea tray while he considered Sasha’s view.

“You didn’t come to my office that night expecting to find your father there, I understand that now, even if I did not react that way at the time.” Self-conscious of the terrible way he’d reacted that night, and in subsequent weeks, the older wizard lifted his left hand to his head, smoothing fingers over his silver hair before he looked back to Sasha. “And of all the things that can come back to surprise a man who spent most of his years from place to place, you’re…” well, what exactly, he couldn’t quite verbalise. The most legal, or the least likely to cause a divorce, or unlikely to murder me in revenge didn’t sound right in any context.

“I cannot forbid you to disclose, that’s what’s got us into this quandary,” Ignan acknowledged. “But I am not one for great announcements, especially of my private or family life. By which I do not insinuate you are something I should feel ashamed for - Miranda and I did not publicise our marriage, and this is much the same. It is not my nature. So if you choose to disclose, I only ask you to do it with discretion… caution… for how others will perceive.”

When your wife reacted as she did, and your reasonable, motherly cousin asked if there were any others, and your boss gave you the cold shoulder for non-disclosure in a professional capacity… the papers were never going to treat you kindly.

Sasha shook his head and confirmed, "no.  I hadn't."  When he'd approached the man's office almost a year and a half ago, the reality that had laid its hands on the table had not been the outcome he was hoping for.  "I'd been expecting ... I don't know.  I think I'd been too nervous to know what I was expecting."  He looked up at his father as the man's words trailed off, trying to guess where his thoughts might have been going. 

"That wasn't what I meant," Sasha quickly shook his head.  "I'm sorry.  I'm not very good at expressing myself when it comes to this kind of stuff," whatever 'this stuff' happened to be.  "But I'm not asking for a big announcement.  Just knowing you wouldn't be disappointed or angry if people found out is sufficient."  He didn't feel comfortable 'getting away with' letting the cat out of the bag. 

He glanced up and looked around the small living room until his gaze settled on the empty fireplace. 

"So, is there anything I can do?  If I wanted to rectify things?"  He looked back towards Professor Storm. 

“… Just knowing you wouldn’t be disappointed or angry if people found out is sufficient.”
“I’m acknowledging your right to.” The Professor replied calmly. “If you feel you want to share it with others, then, you may.” He averted his eyes, and reached forward to pour them both another cup of tea, using his right arm first and then setting the teapot down to use his left.

“So, is there anything I can do? If I wanted to rectify things?” Tea bubbled into the second teacup as Sasha asked, and Ignan took a moment to understand what Sasha meant by rectify. He looked up at the empty fireplace too, before sitting back from the two refreshed cups.

“Ah. Don’t hold your hopes out.” He told his son truthfully. He rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, sitting forward, and looked back a little over his shoulder at Sasha. “I think the quaffle is in my court there for the time being. But, a word of advice -.” He sat up again and blinked gently, “...in this house, Miranda is the authority on all things healing. It’s a subject best avoided. Safer topics … wine, hippogriffs… a little travel?” He tried to think what Balfour and Johann had survived discussing last they had been for dinner. “Steer clear of dementors, recent events, muggles.” He gave a hint of a smile, “dangerous topics for even her husband.”

It was sufficient, knowing that a misplaced comment or slip of the tongue wouldn’t jeopardize what had already been established.  Despite how new his connection to the Storm family was, Sasha was keenly aware that he needed the sense of security that came from being connected to something beyond oneself.  Especially as he transition from life at Hogwarts to the real world. 
 
He didn’t have a very good track record when it came to navigating the real world.   
 
“Dementors?”  Perhaps it was his muggle upbringing, but those creatures didn’t seem to be a common conversation topic.  “Stick to non-controversial, cocktail party-friendly conversation topics.  I can do that.  Years of etiquette lessons prepared me well.”
 
Logically and unemotionally, the Ravenclaw understood why questions about healing hadn’t gone over well though, after years of being surrounded by educators, it was a bit surprising that an expert would react so poorly to questions.  But, while the questions had initially been rooted in genuine curiosity, he knew they’d held a touch of accusation once she’d mentioned botched healing.   “It hadn’t been my intention to get that emotional.  I’d-“  He hesitated a moment before distracting himself by reaching forward and picking up the freshened cup of tea.  “Please pass along my apologies.” 
 
Sasha took a slow sip of his tea.  "Sir-" Sasha started, before setting the teacup back on its saucer.  "In full disclosure, given everything-" and since they had been on a related topic.  "I'm planning on changing my name after Hogwarts.  I don't want to keep carrying that man's name.  And, ... there are a variety of reasons.  I assumed this wasn't an option and figured I'd just make something up.  I haven't figured out what, though." 

“Please pass along my apologies.” Ignan nodded in agreement at the request. He refocused on the younger man as he broached a slight change in subject.

“… there are a variety of reasons…” Hopefully not just the fact the Schlagenweit name was shortened into all comical array of insults by classmates, the Professor hoped in passing.

“It is a good time to consider a change if you wish it,” he agreed. “Though whatever you change it to will stick, and be questioned by those who have known you before. Though, small irritation to endure in the moral circumstances.” He sighed. “Are there any other names you might consider - your mother’s maiden name, perhaps? A complete unknown would be a fresh start, though you might need to research carefully for unexpected namesakes.” He held back on suggesting Sasha took his family name. It didn’t have the best of associations in recent years.

There were many reasons Sasha had considered changing his name but the abundance of nicknames was certainly far less important than the main one: he did not want to spend the rest of his life pretending to be Gerhard’s son.  He didn’t deserve it and Sasha didn’t feel he owed the man that. 

“Though whatever you change it to will stick, and be questioned by those who have known you before.”

“And, unfortunately, that will be true in both the wizarding and muggle worlds.  I thought of my mother’s maiden name but…”  Sasha hesitated, glancing up from the tea cup with a quizzical glance.  Was it safe to assume his father understood the very basics of muggle history?  “It carries some historical significance in the muggle world.  The Waldgrafs weren’t on the right side of history during the war.” 

“I thought of going with Snow.  Sasha Snow,” Sasha added with a grin, fairly confident the association would be lost on the older wizard.  “I don’t know.  I'll figure out something.” 

“… I thought of going with Snow, Sasha Snow.” The literary association was indeed lost on Ignan, who rather understood the English historical meaning of the name instead.

“In preparation for looking as white as your father?” He asked Sasha, a hint of humour in his voice. It was a name that had links to South England and the pale hair of Northern European invaders than to actual ice or snow. “English though, rather than German? I suppose us Storms cannot talk. We left Britain generations back and took the surname with us. Less of a surprise we should return here, on reflection.” Ignan’s gaze raised to the low ceiling of the cramped cottage’s sitting room, thinking back.

“Had my mother, your late grandmother, not married my father on following him back after conceiving me, I’d have been a Murray. I’d have grown up in England, probably gone to Hogwarts…” he glanced back down to Sasha, “then our lives might have been very different indeed.” Would he have been any more honourable? Would he ever have known his paternal family? He was almost sure he would have still trained to become an auror or near, but maybe the troubles in Britain would have kept him occupied. Maybe he might have still been foolish enough to stray the wrong side. He probably would not have chanced upon Sasha’s mother, nor Azorma.

Such contemplation of life decisions could lead a man to consider the validity of seers. Ignan’s general unease of them had been tested more than once that year.

“What I am saying, though invariably not saying -,” Ignan explained, that awful trait that was only amplified in Sasha, “is that you have a right to my name, though it too comes with associations. Besides, given time - the right witch- er, woman, might come into your life and you might consider the more modern approach of taking her name.”

He glanced twice at Sasha as he set his teacup down, not entirely sure of this topic at all with the younger man, and learning his lesson with Johann. “Or, given other family… his name.” He rubbed at his healing shoulder, the tension encouraging a dull muscular ache.

“In preparation for looking as white as your father?”

"Well, Sasha Schnee would just sound weird."  Given the obscurity of the reference, at least among the older, pureblood wizarding demographics, it was more of a response than Sasha had been anticipating.  He chuckled slightly and shook his head.  "I'll settle for white over completely bald, any day.   But, no - it's a muggle book.  And, TV show.  A good one, if you like that sort of thing.  I'll get you a copy." 

Sasha followed his father's gaze up to the ceiling.  The Storms had originated in England and moved down to Germany, only to move back in the latest generation.  The Waldgrafs had been in Germany for centuries only to move to England when his mother had moved north.  And, they'd always intended on Sasha moving back to Germany.  If one went back far enough in time, did family histories every become simple?

“Then our lives might have been very different indeed.”

"You might have still been my professor."  Having a theoretical past association with Hogwarts was really the only factor that supported that assertion; Sasha was purposefully ignoring the wealth of other contingencies that it would have required.  "Well, probably not.  I probably wouldn't have existed or, at best, I'd probably be a muggle." 

Slowly, Sasha nodded and almost started to respond to the notion of taking the name Storm when the conversation shifted to relationships.  It was, most likely, the most normal source of worry and confusion for the eighteen-year-old but not one he fancied lingering on.  Quite quickly, he realized he'd probably intruded on the Storm family a bit too long. 

"Thank you, sir, for the tea.  And everything.  I'll give it all some thought.  But, I should probably let you rest.  I really am glad you are - or, at least, will be alright."  He pushed himself to his feet and, after a moment's hesitation, picked up Miranda Storm's gift and put it back into his pocket.

“They’ll have to try harder, certainly,” the Professor agreed to the sentiment that he would recover. “Thank you for not fussing over it with your visit.” He gestured that such emotional interest from other members of the family or those who considered themselves friends were irritating to a wizard who did his best to be emotionally disconnected.

“One last stretch,” Ignan remarked, also getting to his feet, “and then all the hard work will be over, and the future lies ahead.” There wasn’t much room between where they were sat and the front door, and Sasha’s words and stance indicated he was definitely keen to leave. “It was good of you to come by, on my behalf, anyhow.” He nodded to his son and reached for the door, before extending his hand in a somewhat awkward handshake.

“Will see you back at the castle.”

Sasha took the extended hand with a smile and glanced around the small cottage living room.  The future.  It was such a strange thought and one Sasha hadn't tried to linger on too often.  It felt so open, so full of opportunity and yet intimidating in that very vastness.  He couldn't remember ever being without a concrete plan or direction. 

Luckily, there were plenty of classes and final assignments to keep himself preoccupied.  Maybe, even, attempts to enjoy what remaining time he had at the castle. 

Sasha bid his father farewell and started down the path towards the main street of Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks.  One more night of freedom before the final push to the end of his days at Hogwarts.

End