Sasha knew he wasn't in trouble and Madame Biladeau certainly wasn't conveying anything of the sort.  It was mostly an irrational feeling, only given validity by the nature of the situation.  Following a staff member, after hours, through the darkened and empty school corridors had that certain broken-rules-esque feeling to it.  And Ms. Biladeau could, certainly, deduct points or give him a detention, if she wanted to; he had been caught outside the dorms after hours.  But, she'd caught him during his standard lost-track-of-time-while-studying situation and staff were infinitely more forgiving of (and familiar with) that transgression than prefects. 

As he followed Madame Biladeau into her office, he had a suspicion it wasn't exactly the late hour that had caught her attention.  She, like others, had a history of trying to feed him.  And, she'd caught him scarfing down what had amounted to his dinner: a muesli bar, an apple and a piece of cheese.  With exams quickly creeping up, he didn't have time for a regular meal in the Great Hall.  Of course, it had been years since he regularly dined at his house table.  Probably not since he that horrible dinner when Callum Knight broke his wand. 

"I was going to sneak down to the kitchens after Astronomy," Sasha started to offer.  He didn't know if that would help ease her concerns.  "Really.  The elves are used to me dropping by at odd-" 

Sasha had followed Ms. Biladeau across her office and happened to glance down at the desk as she shifted some papers.  A planner was lying open on the desk and the phrase Shithead's Birthday filled the Friday square.  Sasha's eyebrows lifted and, with a sheepish apologetic grimace, he pointed at the square. 

"Is that...I...who's..."  How did he pose this question?  Without asking the question.  He couldn't just say: Who is shithead?  Even the question: who is having a birthday on Friday wasn't appropriate.  He couldn't just ask random questions about a staff member's schedule. 

"When's Kohaku's birthday?"  Did that work?

Early May, frankly, sucked. As a result, she was spending the majority of her time focusing on work and just about anything else other than remembrance day. She'd been walking through the hallways, taking a break from simply spending all her time in her office. Hogwarts was a different place at nighttime, quieter. But it was still very much alive with magic. She'd been trying to focus on the good things and the happy memories that had been built here.

And along the way she'd found Sasha, studying and eating a poor excuse for a meal.

Of course he was going to go bother the house elves later. Everybody always did. Some of them were still traumatized by Virgil Carstairs slicing his mouth open in front of them. When she had been a student, the way into the kitchens hadn't been common knowledge. This generation of students, however, were quicker to spread the castle's secrets. Or maybe they weren't quicker as much as as time went by, more and more were revealed.

Either way, students were almost always in the kitchens. Which wasn't usually a problem, but sometimes it was.

Mai shook her head at Sasha. "I have some food here." She said, "Made lunch with Lopsy the house elf today-- she wanted my rataouille recipe." In exchange, Lopsy promised to give her a promising baklava recipe. "There's extra leftover." She walked to the back of her office, where a magical cooler sat. Rataouille seemed like something that Sasha would eat. Mai didn't bother to serve it onto a plate, instead heating it up with a wave of her wand before placing it (with a fork!) in front of Sasha, still in its' glass  tupperware.

Sasha pointed at her planner. Mai took a glance at it and raised her eyebrows.

"It's Friday." She replied, a slow and not-at-all-innocent smile spreading across her face. "Are you telling me that you can't say the 'shit' word?"

Habitually, Sasha opened his mouth, poised to thank Madame Biladeau for the invariable offer of food before politely refusing but stopped.  Ratatouille?  Sasha's mouth fell closed and he watched as the witch crossed the office to the cooler.  Ratatouille was one of his favorites.  Enough so that he'd tried to make it a few weeks back but, well, his lack of cooking skills had made themselves evident.  Again. 

He'd ended up eating pasta with chunky tomato and eggplant sauce, instead. 

"I love it," he admitted as Madame Biladeau handed him the warmed food.  Slowly, he sat down in front of the food and picked up the fork.  Those quick, life-sustaining snacks that she'd caught him eating a moment before now made up the majority of Sasha's diet.  When he was home, they were augmented by frozen dinners and carry out.  The last time he'd had a real, home cooked meal was ... Christmas with the Trishna's the year before last?  It was easy to forget how much he missed them. 

He needed to get a house elf after graduation. 

"Thank you," he offered as he took a bite.  The appreciation was offered a little more wholeheartedly than the situation normally would warrant.  He was, suddenly, very hungry. 

"Friday," Sasha repeated between bites.  Of course, while he was still stuck at school.  He'd have to see if Kohaku would come up to Hogsmeade the next weekend.  Sasha started to grin to himself, considering the possibilities, until he watched the smile spread across Madame Biladeau's face.  Sasha's eyebrows' lifted, slightly, but he didn't pause in his ratatouille consumption. 

At least, until she posed her question.  "I ... what?  I ... well, no.  Yes.  I mean, I'm ... physically capable."  Wait.  Was she really asking about his avoidance of profanities?  "You're a professor.  I can't ... use that language ..."  It wasn't just that she was a staff member.  But, that didn't make him more eager to use such language.  "It doesn't matter, does it?"

What? He was actually eating the food! Without excuses! He must have actually enjoyed it.  She took a seat and glanced at the planner-- Shithead's birthday, and then looked back at Sasha.

"Correction--I'm not a professor." But she was the head of Hufflepuff house, and could give points as well as detentions. Though, her detentions tended to veer the way of attempts at emotional heart-to-hearts. She wasn't going to bring up the fact that her cursing was barely-even concealed from the staff and students alike. Oh, she tried-- but the occasional one slipped up. And students always noticed. always. Especially the ones you didn't want to notice.

"Frankly, I'm not convinced you're physically capable of cursing." Mai grinned. Sometimes students made it too easy to tease them. "Even if you're an adult by muggle and wizard standards." Jesusfuck that was weird to think about. In fact, the majority of 7th years were legally adults, and Mai seriously doubted that they could properly adult. After all, she could barely adult. For some reason, imagining Eli Amherst balancing a checkbook, or Marco Caldara doing well in a job interview was so absurd it bordered on comedic.

Professor.  Staff.  Sasha wasn't sure he saw a significant enough difference between the titles to justify using profanities in her presence.  But, for a few more moments, eating took precedence.  When the bowl that previously contained the ratatouille was empty (and Sasha was more satisfied than he remembered being in a very long time), he set the bowl on the desk and settled back in the chair.  "Thank you," he offered, again.  For good measure.  "That was really good."  If only he'd known that might be lying around before; he'd have been coming by on a weekly basis. 

"I'm ... physically capable.  The physical process of speaking profanities is the same as speaking any other word."  The Ravenclaw grinned, slightly, shrugging.  Over-analytical humor.  That was the way to go.  "It's just uncomfortable; like talking out of turn.  Only, worse."   

"Even if you're an adult by muggle and wizard standards."

Sasha visibly flinched and shook his head, slightly.  For all intents and purposes, Sasha had been living as an independent adult for almost two years.  Despite that, he still didn't feel ready.  Not fully.  There was still so much about being an adult in the wizarding world that he didn't know or understand.  Hogwarts taught them wandwork and history but not enough about the day to day functioning of an adult wizard.  But, it was easy to ignore that topic in favor of the light-hearted one about cursing. 

"It has nothing to do with being an adult.  My sister-"  He hesitated, briefly, glancing down at his hands before shaking his head.  "She cursed all the time, growing up.  Was constantly getting in trouble for it.  I think she did so less, after she got older."  God, he missed her. 

Physically capable, yes. But emotionally? Maybe not. At least, not in English. Sometimes it was easier to curse in your native tongue, which is something Mai had not considered. Sasha had a German accent. Perhaps, he used German profanities. She used French ones too, after all. The thought cheered her up more than it should have. There was hope for him after all. Deep down, Sasha was probably kind-of a teenager.

Then, he brought up his sister.

"She got in less trouble for cursing, or she started cursing less?" Mai replied, raising an eyebrow. She'd met Jacoba once-- a delightful young woman. She had been one of the victims of the contaminated potions at St. Mungos. Her death was unexpected. It was difficult to talk about somebody who had recently passed, and you never really stopped missing them. You just became accustomed to it. Talking about them, remembering stories about them... Well, it was bittersweet in that heavy, lingering way. And necessary.

Jacoba was also the family tie that Sasha had left, and now..? He didn't really have anybody. He was going out into the real world soon, without family. Without a reliable support system that she knew of. Sure, he had money. But that wasn't a replacement. Not at all.

"She got in less trouble for cursing, or she started cursing less?"

There it was.  The now painfully familiar compulsive urge to go find something to occupy his mind.  His own thoughts had accidentally touched a hot stove and were desperate to hide behind outside knowledge.  His now routine avoidance of sleep through all night study sessions (and regular usage of sleep replacement potions) had as much to do with keeping his mind occupied with other thoughts and ideas as it did with his academic workload.  He'd avoid sleep for weeks on end just to avoid those moments of lying in bed awake before his eyes finally closed. 

For a few moments, the Ravenclaw's eyes began to track over the surface of the counselor's desk in search of something to read, to attach his thoughts to.  Finally, his gaze dropped to his hands and he shook his head with a shrug. 

"I don't really ... know?  We were both at boarding school when we were growing up, so we only saw each other during holidays.  And, I was eight when my parents kicked her out.  I didn't see her until she came here during my fifth year.  It seemed like she was cursing less."  They'd been close, especially considering the vast stretches of separation.  But, there were likely those in the wizarding world that had spent more collective time with Jacoba than Sasha had. 

He grinned, slightly, and shook his head again.  "She generally made a sport out of getting our father...her father riled up.  Sometimes I thought she cursed just to see him turn red." 

Mai hadn't expected Sasha to continue talking about Jacoba. It wasn't usual for him to willingly discuss something personal that could hurt. Talking about your deceased loved ones was definitely personal.

She let out a soft but uninhibited laugh, shaking her head. The two Schlagenweit siblings couldn't have been more different. "If she made a sport of it, Sasha, then I think it's safe to say making his face turn red was her intent." The witch shifted in her seat slightly, crossing one leg over the other. "She sounds like she was spirited." Spirited, and unapologetically herself. Sometimes family was the hardest to be your full self around, it was easier to hold back in case you'd offend and they'd cut you out.

Friends who you could be yourself around without feeling like there'd be a cost for it, well... They were the family you chose. That was the family you had control over.

"Do you have any other family? Close friends that you'll be in contact with after you graduate?" Mai wanted to establish that he had some sort of support. Somewhere.

“She was spirited.  I have no idea where she got it from.”  Spirited was not the Schlagenweit way.  Driven, yes.  Cut-throat in the drive to get to the top, most certainly.  Even a willingness to step on the shoulders of others to get there, first, was par for the course.  Jacoba’s spirited altruism had always made her such an outsider in the family.
 
Even before their father – her father had made her a literal outsider.
 
Sasha hadn’t spoken much of Jacoba since her unexpected death.  With the help of distractions, it was always much easier to fall into the normal rhythm of an over-taxing class schedule and pretend they were just separated by distance and the school year.  “I never understood it, before.  I wish I did.”
 
"Do you have any other family? Close friends that you'll be in contact with after you graduate?"
 
Initially, the Ravenclaw nodded, his eyes darting to the planner on the desk.  There was, of course, the shithead.  Thought they’d only crossed paths a handful of times, Sasha knew he quickly counted him among those ranks.  Though, given Madame Biladeau’s question, Sasha wasn’t sure if she knew.
 
“My grandmother, Oma Kat.  She has Parkinson’s and is mostly senile, but I plan on moving her up here when I graduate and get a house elf.”  However one did that.  Were there shops?  Elves-R-Us?  Home-elf depot?  Elves of the shelves, home edition?  “Johann Storm will be there, he works in the Ministry.  My family’s barn hand has agreed to stay on to help with the properties and I have friends from the muggle world.  Polo teammates and such.”

Well. Something was better than none. But in the case of people experiencing dementia, it was... Hard. She'd never had to go through that with any loved ones, but she knew people who did. It seemed that he wanted to support his Oma and give her the care that she needed. That wasn't the same thing as having a solid support system though. Muggle friends were more likely to be supportive, but... How supportive could they be if they didn't know about the wizarding part of Sasha's life?

Did they know? Maybe they did.

Something stuck out though. Sasha didn't list any fellow classmates as supportive. She was also surprised not to hear Tapendra's name. She'd always assumed the two were close... But time and circumstances had a way of causing people to drift apart.

Johann Storm was a more solid support. But random. She couldn't conceal the surprise on her face, quickly followed by curiosity. But she didn't press. Wasn't Johann related to Ignan? The wizarding world was a small one.

"If you need anything, Sasha, I just wanted to let you know that I'm here too-- even after Hogwarts." She said. Her commitment to the students didn't end when they graduated. She hoped that the ones who needed to would reach out. "If you need help navigating the University or anything..." Mai was one of few witches and wizards who actually attended higher education in the muggle world. It had been challenging, but ultimately worth it.

Never mind. She couldn't hold it in. She was too curious about Johann.

".... I wasn't going to ask, but I'm too curious. Johann Storm? How do you know him? You don't have to answer that question." She let out a small laugh, "I just didn't expect that."

The Ravenclaw shrugged and nodded at the offer of help.  “I’ll keep that in mind.  Right now, I’m just trying to survive exams.  But, in the back of my head are all the things I need to know how to do but I don’t.  Bank accounts and insurance.  Lawyers’ fees and figuring out what to do with investments.”

Then, there was always the big elephant in the room that only he could see.  “What to do … when I have a lot of free time.  I haven’t had to, you know, be alone with my thoughts in a long time.”  His class and study schedule had gone a long way to preventing that eventuality.

".... I wasn't going to ask, but I'm too curious. Johann Storm? How do you know him? You don't have to answer that question.  I just didn't expect that."

There was an easy answer to that question.  “I interned with him a couple years back, after I was sent home from school.”  He could leave it there and, after almost a year and a half of careful concealment, that was what felt natural.  But, he’d been telling the truth.  He was tired of all the lies and concealment.  More importantly, calling himself Johann’s intern unfairly cheapened the man’s role in Sasha’s life. 

“We discovered a year and a half ago that we’re cousins.  Kind of took us by surprise.”