About 6pm

“… poor Orr gets entirely tongue-tied any time he gets near Pinn - apparently has held a candle for her since Hogwarts. Well, maybe you know. They’re both, what… two years ahead of you?”

Johann shrugged to Sasha, unbuttoning his shirt collar and winding a pale blue tie around his hand. He’d come straight over from the office, as negotiated in a flurry of short messages the past few days. As a result, he was still in full flow from a busy Monday in the civil service, recounting amusing observations of his colleagues trying but failing to agree to go for a date, with the thirty-something German who knew better, stirring the pot.

“Anyway, you don’t want to hear how I torment my juniors,” Johann interrupted himself, tucking the tie into the pocket of his jacket which was folded over nearby furniture with the casual confidence of an older brother in younger brother’s domain. “There’s been news!” He gestured with both arms out, as if inviting a hug, “I said I’d come over to hear about university, tell you about your new cousin, and gods knows what else has happened since we last saw each other.”

"Sounds like the story of my life.  So, is she purposefully ignoring him?  Or, just hedging or oblivious?"  Sasha couldn't help but ask.  Partly out of curiosity but partly out of a desire to know there was someone else out there who was capable of being that oblivious.  "The later isn't as hard as one might expect," he added in both his and Pinn's theoretical defense (if that was, indeed, her case). 

“Anyway, you don’t want to hear how I torment my juniors."

"Well, I was once that junior you were tormenting," Sasha reminded him as he greeted him with the invited hug.  "It is good to know it wasn't special treatment.  But, news!" 

Sasha led the way out of the study and into the kitchen of the top story, very muggle flat that looked out over the Cambridge University Botanic Gardens.  The study's fireplace and connection to the floo network was the magical epicenter of the apartment.  He gestured towards the refrigerator and the espresso maker on the counter next to it.  "Beer?  Wine?  Coffee?" he offered. 

"Wait - new cousin.  As in ... new cousin?"  Sasha lifted his hands and brought them together in a gesture that indicated something small.  It was the most logical explanation though it would be especially surprising.  Sasha couldn't remember hearing of anyone being pregnant.  "Or ... new," he pointed towards himself with his thumb. 

“Well, I was once that junior you were tormenting,” Sasha reminded him, taking the hug. The two of them were on level-pegging these days in height, and both filling out, though Sasha would forever be the more muscular of the two. Johann laughed at the memory, poor Sasha trailing after him on all manner of assignments, unpaid, even being stabbed in the finger to disprove an inheritance - only to discover his true relatives in the process. Fate was a funny thing.

The darker haired cousin trailed his host through the new flat, eyes busy taking in the shiny, new muggle abode and the little touches that were distinctly Sasha. It was a lot more posh than anything Johann had lived in, pre-Balfour, and still shiny and new. He wondered if Higgins had come out personally to check on the floo connection. He and Sasha had got on well in the past, both enjoying the strange corners of the magical world and technology. Unfortunately this gave George another reason to try and talk to Johann who found him incredibly tedious, though useful at key moments.

“Beer? Wine? Coffee?” Sasha offered, in the sparkling new kitchen. Johann’s eyes swept round it, admiring, and almost forgot to answer the question. He checked the time, ruling out coffee, still doing his best to adhere to Arcturus’ rules to keep his insomnia in check. 
“I’ll have to take a look,” he replied softly, drawing towards the muggle appliances indicated.

“Wait - new cousin.” The knut dropped for Sasha, and Johann’s face broke into a smile. He forgot about the fridge for a moment and turned back, catching his younger relative’s indication.

“Well, not blood cousin, or by marriage… yet.” Johann replied, the grin unable to be suppressed along with his excitement to  tell Sasha the news. “But yes, very much new,” he pointed to Sasha, “as it happens.” He pressed his finger to his lips. “I think this is a wine conversation, may I?”




Once they both had a full glass of chilled white in their hands, Johann continued to explain, the smile unshifting.
“So there we were, morning after the wedding of Knox and Carr - Balfour’s sister and brother in law,” Johann clarified, remembering that the Spectre clan was confusing at the best of times, let alone to the uninitiated. “We’d taken the Monday off to nurse the inevitable hangover. Whisky wouldn’t leave us alone, something entirely into him, turns out he was trying to tell us something was afoot.” Johann took a healthy sip of wine, “while we were out the night before, the house had let in a guest. It does it time to time, somewhat sentient,” Johann brushed over the detail, that it was Balfour the doors only ever really opened for.

“This young boy, bright red hair, dressed smartly, had spent the night in the drawing room. Gave us all a start, to say the least.” Johann gestured an exaggerated shrug. “Well, you know Balfour had relationships before me, not just men, but women, he likes both,” he brushed the details of his soulmate aside with his fingertips, though he’d never really gone into detail about it to Sasha in the past. “This boy, Feliks, as we discovered, claimed to be his illegitimate son from one of the lovers. He’s not little either,” Johann leaned towards Sasha, getting a little thrill in telling the story, if he was honest, “eleven!” He drew breath and took another sip of wine, examining Sasha’s reaction.

As Johann had rifled through the assortment of wines, many of which were from the collection he'd removed from the old house prior to it being reduced to ashes, Sasha had rummaged in the fridge for whatever appropriately finger-foodish vittles he could find.  Acquiring yet another fancy kitchen hadn't helped him become any more capable of cooking and Giada, the house elf, was confined to the larger house with his grandmother.  But, there was some cheese and olive tapenade in the otherwise sparse fridge and a container of assorted crackers and they were placed on the outdoor table, alongside the bottle of wine. 

Johann launched into a summary of what felt like the front page of the family gossip column and Sasha could do little more then try to keep up and offer nonverbal input along the way.  Like a confusion-tinted shake of his head at the mention of newly weds he didn't recognize and more confused inquisition at the mention of sentient houses.  There was another confused shake of the head at Balfour's romantic history and a suppressed urge to ask a follow up question before Johann was plowing on to this Feliks. 

When there was finally a break, a non-verbal response proved to continue to be faster then verbal.  Sasha lifted one hand to keep Johann from continuing while the other hand tapped out a sporadic rhythm on the table. 

There was so much information to unpack and already so many questions, before he'd even started the unpacking.  He got the sense that Johann was on the verge of launching into Act II so Sasha felt the need to prioritize his response. 

Making sure he was following felt like it took precedence over all the other questions. 

"So, a boy claiming to be Mr. Spec- Balfour's son showed up at the house while you weren't there.  The house admitted him.  He politely stayed where he was put all night, without saying anything."  Sasha offered a half-grin.  "I like him already." 

"But, you said he claimed.  Not that he was."  Could have been a matter of chronological progression of the story or part of the main plot.  Sasha couldn't tell, yet.  Except, Johann had started the conversation by saying: "but, he's my cousin?  Well, symbolically, at least."  He added, with an awkward shrug. 

"So, you know?  If he was telling the truth?  I mean...it's confirmed?"

You would have thought, aged 35, that Johann Storm would have learned not to info dump on his closest friends and family. But this was Johann. Where facts, figures, observations and languages were concerned, he was your man, but common sense… that often took a back seat.

“So, a boy claiming to be Mr Spec- Balfour’s son, showed up at the house while you weren’t there.”

Johann nodded.

“The house admitted him.”

“Mhm.”

“He politely stayed where he was put all night, without saying anything… I like him already.”

Johann let out a genuine hoot of laughter at his cousin. It was true, of all the people Johann knew, Sasha probably had the best manners. Even Mrs Lanningham could appear uncouth in comparison to Sasha’s intricate knowledge of arcane and obscure customs.

“He did, though I think we were too plastered to even notice if the house had burned down.” Johann admitted humbly, with a shrug of his slight shoulders, and sipped his wine.

“But, you said he claimed. Not that he was.” Sasha pointed out Johann’s slip of the tongue as he had explained,
“Ah.”
“But he’s my cousin? Well, symbolically, at least.” Johann nodded, giving a thumbs up. “So, you know? If he was telling the truth? I mean… it’s confirmed?”

“You’re quite right, cousin, I say claimed because at the time it just seemed so f-,” Johann caught himself from swearing, “far-fetched, that neither of us wanted to believe it.” He shrugged and gestured with his glass. “I had to confirm it in the way we mutually know is an authority in these matters.” He nodded to Sasha, referring to the relation elixir. “Afraid no DNA swabs were on hand that day either.” He gave a grin as if to say see, I do remember your Muggle stuff.

“And yep, he’s hundred percent Balfour’s son.” Johann puffed out his cheeks. “All credit to Balfour though, he got his head round it quicker than Ignan did.” He glanced to Sasha, “you were a cautionary tale, if I’m honest. Ignan said as much to Balfour when he came up to sort out a Hogwarts place.” Johann looked a little sorry towards Sasha. It had been a rough ride for Sasha, especially considering his family that he’d grown up with had perished in the last few years. Sometimes he just wanted to give the poor sod a hug and tell him he’d be ok. Johann knew it was outside of Ignan’s personality to do it, but he felt at times that Sasha could do with one.

“Here, got a photo.” He slipped his hand into his suit trouser pockets and extended a photo of Feliks staring at the camera with curiosity, a mop of dark hair, angular cheeks, looking like a younger Johann, and not very much like Balfour at that time. “And yes, you’d get on with him. Been raised to have manners. Must be a secret son essential.” He laughed and looked out at the view from Sasha’s new flat, peering over the edge of the balcony. “That and bi… trilingualism. Russian, French, English. That’s only a challenge for me to teach him another.”

“He did, though I think we were too plastered to even notice if the house had burned down.”

Sasha winced, sympathetically.  There was were far too many relatable concepts within that simple statement; not least of all being capable of imagining sitting alone in an unfamiliar house awaiting an entirely unpredictable fate.  Even if the circumstances themselves weren't terrifying, it could make even the most confident person feel incredibly small. 

"I'm starting to feel like I should buy some shares in the company that makes those relations elixir," Sasha said, with a wry grin.  "We must have a corner on the market, by now." 

An uninvited and unwelcomed pang of jealousy wormed its way to the surface, when Sasha reached for the picture, and he was grateful for the excuse to avert his gaze from Johann's look of sympathy.  He couldn't count the number of times he'd dreamed of being whisked off to the, as of then, unidentified family that had been the source of his magic during those endless weeks between learning of Hogwarts and finding his own way to Platform 9 3/4.  Superficially, (and admittedly knowing very little about the boy's circumstances), in Sasha’s eyes this Feliks had landed himself in the perfect family just in time to start Hogwarts. 

Sasha knew, immediately, it was a foolish ... no childish response.  And, he certainly couldn't begrudge the boy for ending up in what was likely a far better situation then he'd come from.  With a shake of his head, he shoved the thought and the jealousy to the side. 

Looking at the photo, he grinned.  "That's good," he offered, earnestly, looking up from the photo at Johann.  "I suppose, then, something good came out of all of it.  It's rough, you know, not quite knowing where and how you fit in the world.  It is ... it makes it hard to know what to trust."  Sasha took another look at the picture before handing it back to Johann. 

"But, it's good he was able to get somewhat settled before starting school.  You didn't explain where he came from, though?  I mean, where has he been?  Where is his mother?"

Sasha took a sip of his wine, before lifting a finger as a thought occurred to him.  "You should send care packages, if you haven't already.  Like..."  Sasha counted the days on his fingers.  "Today, if you haven't, yet.  I don't know how it was at your mail deliveries, but other kids notice that stuff.  Who gets what and how often from outside of Hogwarts at the break.  It's easier to pretend you're normal if, you know, what other kids see is normal."

"If it's appropriate, I'd very much like to meet him, sometime."

“… It’s rough, you know, not quite knowing where and how you fit in the world. It is… it makes it hard to know what to trust.” Sasha uttered before extending the photo back to Johann. The older wizard frowned a little not quite sure how to reply to that comment, but feeling he should address it. Sasha ploughed ahead before he managed to find words. Johann’s excitement at sharing news made him feel he’d overshot Sasha’s response and was running back to check it.

“You didn’t explain where he came from though? I mean, where has been? Where is his mother?”
“Uh…” Johann twisted the stem of his wine glass in his fingers and looked out on the Botanical Gardens, letting Sasha count days and suggest what would allow Feliks to pretend to be normal. The longer he could put off mentioning Ira, the better.

Gods, was that Sasha’s method at school? Try to appear normal by receiving post? The best people in their family were abnormal, but Sasha had never met the rest of the paternal family to know that. He didn’t know how Ignan had stuck out[1] at garden parties, scowling at children while Johann had been asked how much he’d earned the previous month and other relatives bragged on the obscene achievements of youngsters at Durmstrang, the number of house elves they owned, or goblins they’d ripped off, or expensive holidays they’d taken. Thinking on it, Sasha had probably suffered worse with the Muggles and their society. Why else would he feel obliged to send such formal responses and those wedding gifts to his sham engagement with Hannah. Maybe a Storm family garden party, being grilled on his academics by the older wizards would have been a blessing. Johann would be amused to hear their reactions to Sasha’s muggle studies, either way...

“If it’s appropriate, I’d very much like to meet him, sometime.”
“Yes!” Johann replied swiftly, catching up with Sasha’s train of thought, “Definitely... form a club.”

The words were out of his mouth before he realised how that might not land so well after Sasha’s comments about not knowing how you fit in the world. “I mean,” Johann replied, hastily, “… I’m sorry. I’ve been bounding ahead telling you all this without thinking.” He put the wine down on the nearest surface and reached out to grasp his cousin’s shoulder, and then give him a well deserved, but potentially awkward hug, considering he’d not let Sasha put his drink down.

“Of course it’s appropriate,” Johann told Sasha, delivering what he hoped was a reassuring hug, “you’re family. You’re as good as my brother.” He stepped back, still holding Sasha by the shoulders and gave him one of his serious, sentimental looks that could be a bit intense. “Mother sends her love as well, wanted to know your address so she could calculate auspicious dates for housewarmings.” Johann rolled his eyes slightly, appreciating arithmancy was one side of divination which had some paperwork behind it, but that he didn’t feel it truly impacted on life to that degree.

1.	July 2001, Who would not live in songs of distant days?

Worry started creeping in as Sasha became aware of Johann's ... was it hesitancy?  Reluctance?  Had he presumed too much or had his questions been too personal?  After all, Feliks was Balfour's son and Sasha had only briefly met Balfour during the career fair.  In hindsight, it was obvious that the boy's mother was personal matter that he didn't need to know. 

Sasha shook his head and was on the verge of apologizing when ... well, Johann beat him to it.  The older German even punctuated it with a gesture Sasha had never used to accentuate an apology: a hug.  Having somehow managed to avoid spilling his wine and return the hug, he nodded appreciatively before finally (perhaps, at long last), understanding the bigger confusion. 

Quickly, Sasha shook his head.  "No, no - I'm glad you're telling me this.  It's great news and I am happy for you!  And for him!  I'm just ... I'm being foolish.  All that I said about not knowing where I fit in, that's not on any of you.  That's on my parents and it's ... I'd been trying to figure where I fit ever since those, you know, magical hiccups started.  Long before Hogwarts, even."  That had even been before his sister had spilled the beans about Sasha's illegitimacy. 

"Everyone has been as welcome as I could have hoped.  Well, maybe less so from Mrs. Storm."  He added, scowling slightly, before shaking his head.  Of course, she had a legitimate reason; he'd accepted he had to earn her approval, a position he was very much familiar with.  "If any of that was directed at you all, it was not being confident in who to trust." 

Sasha smiled and sipped his wine.  "It's a privilege to consider you my brother and you can definitely pass my address on to your mother.  Though, you might want to remind her to check about muggles before popping in our way.  I can't promise there won't be late night study sessions.  I assume the calculations would tell her that, though."  Sasha grinned.  "She could join us in our calculus." 

"But, none of that was meant as a distraction from the exciting news.  So, he must have started school already, yes?"  Sasha asked.  Now for the most important question.  "Do you know where he's been sorted, yet?  And, is it a family scandal?" 

“Everyone has been as welcome as I could have hoped. Well, maybe less so from Mrs Storm.”

Johann had to stifle a laugh at the way Sasha phrased it. Miranda was definitely an acquired taste. He’d heard a lot from his friends who worked from her, and called her disapproving names due to her sharp, overly-demanding temperament. It just suggested to Johann why she was a good match for Ignan, and he was personally glad that together they seemed to be pleasant company. It was a great shame she had decided not to extend the family welcome to Sasha, but Ignan had never been all that good at approaching it either.

“She could join us in our calculus.”
“Don’t tempt her.” Johann laughed, having retrieved his wine and relaxed again.

“Do you know where he’s been sorted yet? And, is it a family scandal?” Sasha continued to be politely curious about Feliks, and Johann glanced back to him with a little apprehension. No, he couldn’t dance around it, not after what he had just talked about with Sasha. Keeping family secrets was destructive and only hurt people. He’d tell Sasha later, bit more wine required to talk about murders.

“Slytherin,” he replied, pressing his lips together, suppressing any clear expression to see how Sasha reacted independently. “It was Balfour’s house, though I fully understand it has a certain… reputation.” Some of the students in the house were not the nicest, according to his mother, “You were Ravenclaw, right?” Of all the four houses, Johann supposed he might have fitted there, for wit and knowledge. If he ever met the Sorting Hat, he’d be very tempted to ask.

“I’d have been happy with any, honestly. We didn’t have houses at Durmstrang, just strata. I suppose you might know, what with the Tournament the other year?” The Tetrawizard Tournament had seen Beauxbatons, Salem and Durmstrang arrive at Hogwarts for perilous tasks. 

"That's brilliant!"  Sasha's initial reaction to Feliks' house was genuine excitement.  Though Sasha had always assumed he would have been miserable in that house, he'd routinely found himself in the company of Slytherins. 

He grinned and shrugged when Johann mentioned the reputation.  "What house doesn't have a reputation?"  These days, Gryffindors are hot headed and troublemakers and Hufflepuffs were ... well ... weird.  And nice.  But, in weird ways.  "I somehow managed to only date Slytherins, so I can't say I disapprove of the house."  Sure, he'd had his troubles with some of them - Knight, in particular.  But, in the end, they'd represented a minority. 

Though motivations were frequently different, both of the houses seemed to value intelligence and some degree of tradition. 

Sasha nodded, confirming he'd been in Ravenclaw.  "The house of cerebral types.  Probably why they stick us up in the clouds."  He'd been one of those extremely quick sorts - one of the kids the hat managed to place without properly touching their head.  Though, as years went by and various Junis and Kelvins joined their ranks, Sasha had found himself questioning whether the hat was as infallible as people claimed.  Now, the tower had been left in their hands.  Rowena help them all. 

Poor Eirene.

"Aside from a few rotten eggs, it always seemed like Ravenclaws tended to align with Slytherins and Gryffindors with Hufflepuffs.  I always assumed that's why the house tables were arranged the way they were."  Especially back in the days with heightened inter-house tensions, having Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in the center as buffers was probably wise.

In addition to arranging them alphabetically. 

"I heard some of the Durmstrang students talking about the strata," Sasha admitted.  "From what I heard, the ranks are more about academics then blood status, these days?" Sasha did not attempt to hide his uncertainty.  Even before the ... competition was such a crude and archaic term, ... interference posed by that Tyr fellow,  Sasha had naturally gravitated more towards the Beauxbatons students. 

As much as he loved Bavaria, he was very grateful his parents had lived in the UK.  "The ... instability of it seems like it would be tough.  I couldn't imagine suddenly changing houses in the midst of everything.  Where did you end up?  Do you know about, you know, my father?" 

“… more about academics than blood status, these days? … where did you end up? Do you know about, you know, my father?”

“More these days, but still helps.” Johann admitted, thinking of his time at school and his friends. “There are three strata, hmm?” He looked to Sasha to see there was recognition, and held a hand out to indicate as he summarised, “dregs at the bottom, not expected to amount to anything, either socially or academically below, zufrieden, the majority, middle strata where you’re generally living an alright life unless you do something moronic,” he dipped his hand down and shook his head, “and then up here, oberteils, who are self-confessed arseholes, because they decide who’s in their club.” Johann shrugged.

“Your late grandfather was a former Headmaster in the fifties and sixties, when Ignan was at school, so of course Ignan was an oberteil. He couldn’t be anything but, could he?” Johann eyed Sasha thoughtfully, wondering if his cousin would have turned out very differently if he’d been Merik’s recognised grandson, and gone on to study at Durmstrang. There wouldn’t have been any Muggle curiosity allowed, but Johann suspected, like himself, once he got to hide his softer traits, he’d have embraced the academic rigour.

“I was one of the arseholes[1] too, because of your grandfather.” Johann shrugged with a frown. It wasn't that he was ungrateful. He'd had a much easier ride at school in some respects, but also been driven harder to greater expectations. He'd been predicted to be a great scholar, or follow his father into the financial world to wrangle with goblins and international trade. But as much as Johann surrounded himself in numbers and figures with documents and work in his adult life now, the part that kept him intrigued were the people he met and the way to outwit a system to benefit them, either for moral or financial gain.

“It opened doors, but I’d have been all over a house system like Hogwarts. Much more equal and community spirited. Everyone has opportunities. It’s not fair to dictate your adult life from your teenage years, or because of who your parents are.”

Johann sighed, and licked his lips. He took a generous gulp of wine.

“Sasha, Feliks’ mother…” He looked as worried as he did the night they’d discovered Ignan was Sasha’s true father, “His mother’s Ira Almasy.”

1.

November 1989, Blank Pages "When he glanced their way, the Dregs shuffled their feet, and the Zufrieden adopted thoughtful, supportive faces, in the hope of winning his approval and support in elevating themselves within the student community. Little did they know how he'd have elevated the lot of them given half a chance, just so he wasn't upon a pedestal in spellworks.” 14 November, 2010, Fall Apart & Start Again "You told me you wanted to be a Zufreiden…. Because you thought the other Oberteils were cruel, and that many of the Zufreiden outshone you in spellworks.” … "Much as I disliked many of the other Oberteils, not being amongst them was a far worse prospect.”

Despite himself, Sasha couldn't help but grimace as Johann lifted off the strata.  "Even the names sound ... harsh.  Zufrieden," Sasha repeated.  "Satisfied.  I have to wonder whether it's intended to imply you're satisfactory or if you ought to be satisfied with your lot.  And, that says nothing about Dregs.  Given where I started and my scores my first couple years, that's probably where I would have ended up.  And, it doesn't exactly encourage confidence."  Hogwarts, at least, had offered a relatively supportive environment that had given him the encouragement to keep trying and improve.  Would it have been harder to find the motivation, if he'd been relinquished to the category of dregs from the get-go?

The younger man grinned and took a sip of his wine.  "I want to say it's hard to imagine you acting like an arsehole, but I've seen you in those focus-on-the-task-above-all-else moods."  Sasha wouldn't be surprised if he'd been guilty of it at times, as well.  It had been a trait his stepfather had valued.  "My first school didn't have either.  We just had simple assigned dormrooms and roommates.  Though, we did try to make our own kingdoms."  He added with a reminiscent grin.

"I suspect the whole arsehole thing is conducive to being ..."  Oberteil.  Sasha hesitated and grimaced, again, shaking his head.  "I don't even like that word.  It sits wrong."  More so, even then dregs.  "I don't know; after always worrying about anything that sounds at all ..."  His voice trailed off and he shifted uncomfortably as he couldn't figure out any remotely polite way to finish the question.  "Maybe it's a muggle thing?" he offered, vaguely, mostly out of capitulation.  "Do they -" he gave another attempt but, again, gave up. 

"It’s not fair to dictate your adult life from your teenage years, or because of who your parents are.  Sasha, Feliks’ mother… His mother’s Ira Almasy.”

Sasha had initially nodded, acknowledging he understood and agreed with the notion of not being beholden to the sins - or triumphs - of the parents when Johann came back to the question of Feliks' mother.  Sasha's brow furrowed as he considered that fact.  He knew, as well as any, that there was no reason to hold anything against the boy; who didn't have skeletons in their family closet?  Sure, his mother had done horrible things but so had Sasha's grandfather.  The only thing that seemed to matter was what, if any, impact her life or death might have had on the boy. 

The later seemed more pressing. 

"So, his mother died.  How is he doing with that?  I mean, given -"  She was still his mother.  But, if she was his mother..."- wait!"  Sasha lifted his free hand and seemed to tally something on his fingers. 

"That means he's Raine's cousin, doesn't it?  Does she know?" 

“… it’s hard to imagine you acting like an arsehole, but I’ve seen you in those focus-on-the-task-above-all-else-moods.” Johann winced, understandably. Sasha’s first encounter with him had been unexpected. The younger man had been lumped on him as an intern to look after at work when Johann was trying to use his position to influence a foreign visitor not to buy a property. He’d neither been happy to take Sasha on or very accommodating, and had entirely been set on doing Vedir Prideaux’s bidding. Despite their shaky start, they had got on rather better in less pressured moments, and now were family.

To Johann’s surprise, Sasha had focused more on the fact Ira Almasy was dead and that he would be related to Sasha’s former classmate, Raine Almasy, than the fact she had been outed as a horrific criminal, and Balfour would have slept with her to make a son. That was the part that other people looked at Johann in horror about when they found out. It was the part that also made his stomach churn and added to his nerves however much he’d been happy to grin at Feliks and embrace him warmly to make him feel accepted and secure.

“She does,” Johann nodded, “they’ll meet soon, when it’s appropriate. He’s got enough to contend with at the moment.” He gave a little shrug, thinking how confusing but fascinating it must be to immerse in English and go off to boarding school with new friends and the odd new family member.

“Speaking of new family…” Johann added with equal unease, but a little more mischief, “did you get an invitation to a certain old fart’s birthday?”[1]

1.	1st September, 2011 Some Unseemly Age

Sasha had nodded, glad to hear that they were going to connect Feliks and and Raine.  He could only imagine the former Gryffindor would be a positive influence for Feliks.  Her perspective and friendship had certainly been a help to him, even if they'd drifted apart over the last year.  He could only assume the same would be true for Feliks, if not more so. 

He really had no explanation for why that had been his first response to hearing of Feliks' heritage.  Perhaps, it had been the easier and safer question to wrap his head around.  Or, it took his brain a little more time to formulate the other part of it into cohesive thoughts and questions. 

"So, is-" Sasha had started to ask but Johann seemingly quickly, and deliberately, changed the subject.  Sasha blinked but nodded, deciding it was best to follow his lead. 

"Surprisingly, yes!" Sasha admitted, not making any effort to hide his surprise.  The invite, itself, hadn't been as much of a surprise as Mrs. Storm remembering, and choosing, to include him.  "I did get an invite from Mrs. Storm.  I admit, I'm not sure what to expect.  I don't know who all will be coming, but I feel like it's going to be an interesting mix of personalities either way.  Will Mr. Spectre be joining?" he asked.  Having properly met Balfour Spectre a few days before (if, still, under business circumstances), Sasha was looking forward to actually interacting with him in a more casual setting. 

Sasha smiled at Johann before taking a slow sip of wine.  A bright laugh echoed up the side of the building from the yard down below - or, perhaps the gardens beyond.  "Can I, um ... ask you something personal?" he asked, lowering his glass of wine. 

“Surprisingly, yes!”
“Oh good!” Johann echoed, genuinely happy. Miranda had been horrifically distressed when she’d had to deal with Ignan’s death and the fact Sasha would also need to know. It had been the worst way to meet someone, and as far as Johann knew, it had entirely soured the whole possibility going forward. That, and something to do with a bonsai tree.

“… Will Mr Spectre be joining?” Sasha asked.
“He will,” Johann replied, nodding, “and he’s Balfour.” He gently cuffed Sasha’s upper arm for being so formal and gave him a wink. Mr Spectre made Johann think of Mrs Lanningham when she was trying to appeal to Balfour’s rational side in moments of merriment on Level Four. When she did that and called Johann Mr Storm, they knew they were in trouble.

There was a lull in their conversation and Johann took the opportunity to glance out over Sasha’s impressive view.

“Can I, um… ask you something personal?” His younger relative asked.

“Intriguing…” Johann replied with narrowed eyes, trying to read Sasha and pre-empt him. He was looking serious! “Of course,” Johann replied in a sensible way, mirroring Sasha by lowering his glass, “what’s on your mind?”