Vasily's name had come up in idle student chatter. Ignan had carefully followed two gossiping seventh year girls down the corridor the great hall, who were discussing some misdemeanor of Nolan and Carter (he didn't grasp the details) which involved a rather accurate description of "the cute but hard looking Eastern European guy who works at the 3 Broomsticks".

It was only just after seven on the Sunday morning, when the tall, imposing figure of Professor Ignan Storm knocked at the door of an abode off the Hogsmeade High Street. The sun was up and grey clouds were parting overhead, reflecting in the puddles on the lane. Ignan knew very well that Vasily would have worked the previous evening at the 3 Broomsticks (he had checked) and would have finished in the early hours of the morning and be taking a well deserved kip.

The ancient landlady opened the door and squinted up at him. The smell of cat urine wafted out of the front door towards him and he purposely inhaled through his mouth to ignore it.
"Good morning, I was looking for Vasily Volkov, your lodger?" Ignan greeted her cordially, even mustering a hint of a pleasant smile.
"Hmm?" the old hag replied, still squinting at him, and turned her head and cupped her hand around her ear. Ignan sighed to himself. He had after all set up the original arrangement of Vasily staying in this albeit a little dilapidated cottage on the slim funds he had available on arrival to Hogsmeade back in January, he had expected the little old lady to remember him.
"Vasily Volkov...? Uoh..." He a little impolitely, stepped into the doorway past her and into the dank smell.

Coming to a stop outside Vasily's door he hammered on it three times with his clenched fist.
"Vasily Volkov. Please open this door." He gave the sleeping inhabitant a moment, a split second, before unlocking the door with his wand, swinging it open swiftly so it banged and shuddered back on its hinges.

Stepping inside the room with two heavy footsteps, the landlady squarking behind
"Oi! You can't just barge in here!"
Ignan addressed Vasily in a deep and firm tone.
"Get up, you have somewhere to go."

It was then that the landlady planted a lamp stand to the back of his shoulder from behind, sending him stumbling forward two steps towards Vasily's bed.

Vasily was exhausted. The night previously at the pub had been jam packed, and he'd served more pints of Butterbeer than he cared to remember. Things had been going smoothly - no bust-ups, no insulting customers, no bad attention. All was well it seemed. Of course, Vasily still possessed that constant anger, bubbling underneath his stone-chiselled face. Now and again there was the loudmouth punter that needed a fist in their face, but Vasily had to suppress his inner brawler, and merely resort to a clenched fist held under the bar. The landlady was impressed; he wasn't the most charismatic guy in the world, nor the warmest, but he commanded a certain presence in the Three Broomsticks. People knew not to act up.

He laid in his bed, half-asleep, half-awake, having a morning snooze. He planned to stay like this until at least lunchtime, before his shift started all over again in the late evening. Vasily clenched his pillow and immediately, a familiar aroma filled his nostrils and he couldn't help but gasp a little with surprise. His bedsheets still had their fingertips around Waker's scent, and every night was a reminder. She still hadn't got back to him, but Vasily only had to give it time. He was an infection, and there was no known cure.

However, his early morning lustful reminisce was rudely interrupted.
"Get up, you have somewhere to go." Vasily, laid on his stomach, looked up, squinted eyes, messy hair.
"Uncle Ignan?" he murmured, his lip curling up in disgust. Just what did the old coot want at this ungodly hour? Before even managing to ponder this notion, a lampshade crashed down. The sound reverberated throughout the small, cramped room and Vasily instinctively dived out of bed.

As he scrambled to help his uncle up, Vasily's appearance may have somewhat started his old-fashioned relative and landlady; the Ukranian was in his boxers and a pair of socks, and even he had forgotten his lack of clothing in this bizarre (and extremely random) encounter.
"What the hell are you doing?" he cursed, standing up to his landlady, his fatigue eliminated almost instantly. "He's my uncle!" Vasily slammed the door in her face and turned around, putting an arm around the old man's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, I'll be ... fine." Ignan told Vasily brusquely shrugging off the arm. He turned round to the door which had just slammed shut, and instinctively checked the back of his head. No harm done, more the surprise and dent to his pride if he was honest.

"Get dressed Vasily," Ignan instructed his nephew, rather irritated his approach to Vasily had been interrupted such. "Here is not the place to talk - I suspect your landlady has selective hearing as well as skills at swinging lamps. Now."

Seeing his Uncle Ignan crumpled up on the floor after being attacked by an old woman was a strange sight - and Vasily found it difficult to contain his smirk. Somebody so dignified and rigid in both appearance and manner always looked the most comical when involved in a minor accident. The old man shrugged Vasily off, and he was more than happy to let the disciplinarian get to his own feet.

Vasily frowned once more as he heard the landlady scratching at the door, murmuring some gibberish. Getting to his feet, he stomped over to the door still largely undressed, and kicked his foot against the door hinge. As expected, a squawk of surprise emitted from behind the door followed by a small avalanche of plaster and wood.
"Get lost, you've already done enough damage," Vasily growled. Sure, she was his landlady, and sure, he was legally obliged to pay her rent, yet he was always keen to assert his dominance within the cat-ridden cottage. She was to stay out of his affairs, and that was that.

Rubbing his eyes and picking up some clothes that had been boyishly thrown in a heap on the floor, Vasily took a pew on the edge of his bed, sliding strong legs into a pair of jeans.
"What the hell do you want, anyway?" Vasily muttered, choosing to speak in his own native tongue of the Ukraine. "Still happily doing all my parents' dirty work for them?" He curled his top lip, shaking his head at Ignan as he belted up. It'd been some time since uncle and nephew had exchanged any sort of interaction, and it seemed Vasily was forgetting the harsh discipline of Ignan Storm far too easily.

Ignan ignored the fact Vasily had obviously replied to him in Ukranian, a language he didn't speak. The expression on his nephew's face was enough.

He instead refused to respond to it until they had left the house.

"How the hell you can still live there." Ignan gestured to the house as they headed into the street. "Let alone bring girls back there." His eyes slid from Vasily's face to stare in front of them again as they walked.

"How did they put it? Oh yes, 'the cute but hard looking Eastern European guy who works at the 3 Broomsticks'" Ignan sighed, stopped abruptly and faced Vasily in the side street.

"Look, I've ignored you, but I've written pleasing lies to your parents as I said I would. I would still be ignoring you save for family pleasantries - only I assume you dislike spending time with me on a social basis - if I hadn't heard you'd become involved with one of the students." He frowned, and placed his hands on his hips, and thought how to go on.

The direct approach it was.

"Sleeping with her isn't my concern, its the fact she's allowed it to become corridor gossip for me to overhear. There's only so much I can lie about, illegitimate children are not something I can."

So the illegitimate children part was the slightest of exaggerations.

This wasn't going anything like he'd planned.

He sighed and dropped his shoulders, turning to walk up the road again, trying to explain his reasons.

"Vasily, it would be none of my business if it wasn't a student. But, have you become involved?"

Being inattentive had made the fact he'd overheard corridor gossip worry his vanilla lies to Vasily's family would be discovered.

Finally dressed, Vasily trotted out alongside his uncle, although he lacked the air of superior aristocracy Ignan Storm held. The Ukrainian's sloping shoulders and heavy hands tucked into jean pockets were tell-tale signs that the boy didn't want to be there; the last thing he needed was a lecture about that Waker girl. She just another conquest, and whilst dangerously beautiful, Vasily believed he had all the boldness and level-headedness to keep her from the realms of lust and infatuation.

Facing his guardian as they stopped in the side-street, he couldn't help but grin at the comment. Rubbing the back of his head boyishly, Vasily shrugged, a confident smirk painted all over his face: he was far too cocky for his own good. "Well, what can I say Uncle Ignan, these Hogwarts girls have good taste." Giving a snort of laughter, Vasily waited with baited breath for the immediate repercussion of his slap-dash comment.

So, word had got around quick. It didn't particularly bother Vasily; what those snot-faced, molly-coddled kids talked about made no difference to him. Waker however, well, it'd be a dire situation for a girl so concerned with how the world percieved her. Vasily almost wanted her boyfriend to find out, to march down to the Three Broomsticks and learn how to really duel. It'd probably result in him being sent straight back to Eastern Europe, but again, that wasn't such a terrible idea either.

"Look," Vasily explained, placing reassuring hands on each of Ignan's shoulders. "Yes, there was one girl in her final year, and no, it isn't an on-going thing, and no, she isn't pregnant. I met her and it was a one night event that will not continue, you've no need to worry either yourself or my parents."

"Good, because to all intents and purposes, I don't plan to worry, or involve your parents." Ignan gave Vasily a warning look, tilting his head, before dropping his own hands from his hips and patting Vasily firmly on one of his shoulders, breaking the contact between the two of them which would always be a little awkward for the Professor.

"I suppose you could do far worse." He agreed, slipping his hands into his robes and turning to continue down the street. "In your choice of women, I mean." A hand reappeared to gesture his clarification. They continued a few more paces, and Ignan queried,
"How do you mean, 'one girl in her final year', do tell me she's been the youngest, because - well, surely there are far more enchanting witches and women in Hogsmeade and Britain beyond than the girls up at that school?" He peered at Vasily with curiosity.
"Unless, your parents happen to have placed you right beside your ideal honeypot, nephew." There was a hint of a smirk. How to be young again!

Vasily smirked as Uncle Ignan made a deliberate attempt to break their physical contact; only someone as bold as the Ukrainian would attempt such proximity with the old crow. It wasn't as if Valentina and himself had ran up to Ignan at Christmas with arms outstretched, begging for a bedtime story. Affectionate, loving elder he was most certainly not. Despite his flaws, however, Vasily had always held a respect for Ignan - the sort of respect only a gentleman of his age and steely disposition could possess. His wayward nephew found sources of intimidation from other, less unsavoury avenues of character.

He accompanied his relative in their slow stroll down the street, Vasily still rearranging the crumpled hem of his shirt. He'd not dressed that quickly since an ex-girlfriend's parents had returned home early. "Of course she's the youngest, I'm not a complete predator," Vasily laughed in disbelief. "I do have some standards, believe it or not. There's plenty of women on the go, she's a mere dot in an ocean." His tone was undoubtedly derogatory, but Vasily found his own unabashed vulgarity amusing. Plenty of his peers did, anyway.

"How are the staff members of Hogwarts?" he proceeded to ask, giving Ignan a raise of the eyebrows and a rare smirk. "I'm sure you can fix me up with a few colleagues, right?" Although his comment was purely made in jest, Vasily was sure there were some fine treats on offer if good old Uncle Ignan wanted to steer him towards the older lady.

"Of course she's the youngest, I'm not a complete predator, I do have some standards, believe it or not. There's plenty of women on the go, she's a mere dot in an ocean."

"Hmph!" Ignan replied, "You wait until you underestimate one."

"How are the staff members of Hogwarts? I'm sure you can fix me up with a few colleagues, right?"

Ignan considered a moment,
"I doubt you'd need 'fixing up' given your way with the fairer sex." He mirrored his nephew's smirk. "Out of your league, the best of them, at least not without challenge. You and Johann would have to visit one evening, they don't see him as a threat, if you catch my drift." It was a family joke about Johann's disinterest in women.

"Look, I think I owe you breakfast." Ignan informed his nephew, rubbing at his own chin with thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. "And you need to find somewhere better than there to live. I thought you'd get rid of her within  a week or two of starting your job at the Three Broomsticks." He gestured back in the direction of the cottage he'd managed to find for Vasily at short notice.