This time it was Georg's turn to be the uneasy patient, though chances were, he was better behaved than Ignan was about being treated. Ignan felt an incredible feeling of guilt about his dear friend being injured, and subsequently remorse towards Eveline Chancelier since yesterday's werewolf attack.

Ignan made polite greetings with Tulojow, who knew Ignan was to call that evening after his lessons had concluded and dinner had been taken within the castle. He had made himself purposely scarce the previous day after leaving Georg with her, wanting to hunt the beast down himself, and wring its neck without witnesses, instead of throwing fireballs at it and scorching the ground.

The rumours had been rife during the day though after the unintended excitement of the detention, Ignan had unusually opted for focusing on the theory of the lessons he'd had during the day with the first, third, fifth and seventh years, simply to let his own nerves settle, though more preoccupied his mind.

Yesterday, after the detention he'd wanted to talk a while with Georg, only the interruption had completely put pay to that. Furious that he had put his mental affairs in order only to have them completely trodden over by a sodding werewolf, Ignan was determined that he was safer attempting it again tonight, however injured Georg was. Actually, it might be to Ignan's advantage that Georg was in any way incapacitated, he was less likely to beat him black and blue.

"And this, I liberated from Trishna, since I'm afraid I ran out this week." Ignan pulled a bottle from his cloak, an uneasy smirk on his face as his visit to Georg incarcerated within Tulojow's hospital hut mirrored that of Georg to Ignan a month before. His friend looked less grey than yesterday, and looked to be right soon enough.

He poured them both measures before very noticeably warding the room from eavesdropping and interruptions with more care than he usually did, his aged brow furrowing as he held up a hand as if to sense the wards were falling into place.

Happy enough magical barriers had been placed between them and the outside world so he could speak, he sat down beside the head of Georg's bed and exhaled.
"I was going to talk to you yesterday, Georg, not here, either." He told his old friend grimly. "There is something I need to tell you, about something which has happened, and has recently come to light." He didn't meet his fellow man's gaze, instead he felt sick at the thought of saying anything, but if Tapendra knew he had to impart the same to the other man who he considered to be a close friend, if not the closest he had ever had.

"I don't blame you if you want nothing to do with me after I tell you, my dear fellow, or if you want to report me, but I ask that you at least give me time to conclude my affairs before you do." He met Georg's eyes this time with sincerity and deep guilt. His friend's moral compass had always been far more accurate than Ignan's, and their friendship returning decades later with Ignan's retrospective on his actions made him curse having to go over old wounds.

"I need to discuss what happened after we parted ways." Ignan told Georg, still with a level stare, seeking approval that this was something Georg was prepared to listen to or discuss at all.

The healing had been going well so far - the rips on his chest were sealing quickly, though they were still painful. He was going to have an urge for raw steak and have to shave more often, however; still, he was quite lucky to have gotten away with just that. Especially from the direwolf.

Georg was enjoying his time off - more or less. It was a tad dull in between books, the hut too quiet at times.

Ignan's arrival was, therefore, quite welcome. He smiled at the older man, sitting up in bed with a grunt, stuffing the pillow between . "Just don't tell him, eh?" he said cheerfully, eying the bottle. Ignan's continued words faded the smile, however; his expression turned thoughtful, guarded.

"I'll need some of that, no doubt," he said, gesturing to the whiskey. "But...I'll hear you out." He wondered what had prompted this - his injury seemed a reasonable trigger, if a slightly odd one.

"Thank you." Ignan replied, pouring Georg a very generous measure, and putting his own glass down.

"You and I both know why we parted ways. It was me, and what I was doing, and you were perfectly within your rights." He began, bitterly. "Only I didn't stop, not for another decade. I just got better at it, until I got caught." This didn't sound like any ground breaking news incidentally to Georg, so Ignan drew himself entirely upright again and cut to the point.

"Georg, I met a woman I very much loved, in Italy about five years after we went our different ways. I caused her death which is how I was caught. I haven't thought so much of it until recently, only the incident became my boggart, and she was identified." His voice trembled a moment. "I was in love with Tapendra's mother, Georg, she and I used to go about skinning our adversaries and throwing them in Venetian canals. "His mother!" Ignan's hands reached his head and his elbows rested on his knees.

The glass was halfway to his lips when Ignan began speaking; with the sound of Ignan's tone, Georg paused and then took several large swallows of the whiskey before he set the glass aside.

His eyebrows began the journey to his hairline fairly quickly - and stayed there as Ignan nearly broke down. Georg's expression was neutral - but part of him, a horrible, juvenile part of him twisted in victory, that he had been right, that it would come back to bite Ignan in the -

But that was not the issue nor the argument, and as long as Georg had control of his wits it never would be either. He frowned at Ignan, crossing his arms in his lap. This would certainly explain Ignan's return to the straight and narrow; Georg wished it had come under better circumstances. But if they were skinning people...

"You and he talked about this, then?" he asked, mostly as a diversion so he could think. The sort of woman he'd identified as Tapendra's mother didn't seem like Ignan's type.

Ignan raised his head from his hands and glanced round to Georg worriedly, as if his friend were going to lynch him.

"His daughter, Cyhirae, caught a glimpse of the boggart manifesting, and claimed to recognise it. I anticipated she'd run to Tapendra to check details, but it was probably a misunderstanding. He found me later that night collecting a second boggart in a classroom, and identified her. We were both as surprised as each other, truth be told, but had I known she had anything to do with Tapendra, given what had happened, I'd have never ever associated with him, for his sake." He sighed, sat back beside Georg again, and refilled the glasses, slugging his second immediately.

"Turns out Tapendra's mother wasn't quite what either of us were imagining." Ignan admitted, "Though she was truly something fantastic. A woman of beauty, skill and danger." His expression changed to a wistful longing. "We loved each other, and like with you - I went ahead when she advised me strongly not to, and I lost her. Only I got her killed trying to save me, whereas you had the luck of leaving me to do it myself."

Georg finished off his glass quickly. "And she was...in on your...side jobs with you?" he asked. He didn't want to dredge up the arguments on years past, but now seemed as good a time as any to broach the subject. "Killing, butchering and...skinning people?" He shook his head. "And you're sure she's his mother?"

He swirled the glass for a moment after Ignan refilled it, expression neutral. "Small world, then," he said levelly. "What are you going to do about it? You've already associated with the man."

Ignan nodded grimly at Georg's questions at each interval, yes the side jobs, yes the killing, yes the mother.

"Precisely." Ignan replied to the final question. "I don't quite know how he looks at me since he recognised her in my boggart." He looked grimly at the floor.

"Tapendra doesn't know any specific details of what happened between us, and I don't think it would benefit him to know either." He tapped his fingertips on the back of his hand thoughtfully. "I don't want to drag up everything we've managed to put behind us since becoming colleagues, Georg, but given what's happened, I need you to know."

His eyes met Georg's,
"I don't ever want to get back to the point I try to murder you, but that element is still there, I think you could see that with the wolf. Better the wolf than students though - I've been very close."

It was very odd to be admitting to that. There, out in the open, he'd come clean to his fears that being restricted to behave so purely at Hogwarts with regards to spells, teaching, punishments, as opposed to the darker shades of grey at Durmstrang, made the risk that his temptation for cruelty would flare up in a single, very horrific incident. He was surprised he was not top of the list for killing Ava Grosvenor, which was partly the reason he'd readily submitted his memories to the Ministry for confirmation of what had happened. 

That was the reason his boggart personified fear of himself, and his actions - fear that he would again get to that point.

"I can't believe I called you a coward back then Georg, it is most definitely me, always has been." His gaze rested on the door handle. "I don't ever want you to forgive me for that." His expression and tone aged him ten years or more.

"Tapendra's mother, Azorma, beautiful woman. Would probably have given you a run for your money with duelling. Merlin, I loved her, not like the women who would stay with us a while, she held something over me emotionally, far more powerful. We mixed that with the killing, had I not made the mistake - like I did with you - of going ahead without heeding warnings, I wouldn't have been able to stop. I can't go back there, I'd be executed probably. I can't get a job with a Ministry, I only got the job teaching at Durmstrang due to my father's influence - and here due to Vlad's references and Snark's requirement to fill a post swiftly. They wouldn't want me here if they dug deep enough."

Ignan looked back to Georg,
"So if it does all come to light, I will have to leave at short notice, so I want you to know before it comes to that, however selfish that is of me to give you the knowledge and the decision with whom or when to share it."

He poured them both another drink, downing his again swiftly, unable to meet Georg's eyes after. He didn't do disclosure well, and he was conscious it was all falling out in a jumble, because he was so anxious to convey it in panic, yet so reluctant to describe.

Georg did not look at Ignan; instead he looked down at the blankets, his fingers tightening in the fabric.

"That would be something you would have to ask him yourself," he said, sighing. "I don't know the man well enough to tell you with any accuracy. What do you want him to think, Ignan? And no...no. Don't tell him. Trishna is...I think he's better off being kept out of the messes we've both gotten into. He's not like us, Ignan."

He looked up at the ceiling, eyes halfway closed. "How close have you come, Ignan? What...what triggered it?" He knew he'd have to keep an eye on the older man; that had been his intention from the start, of course, but he'd hoped...

"What happened to you in Italy, Ignan? Was it her - did she...make you worse?" He took the refilled drink gladly, needing it.

"No, he's not like us, you're right. Though, does pose some thoughts, given half his heritage." Ignan agreed.

"I've come too close." He told Georg, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees again, recalling the thoughts.
"Invited three disarmed 7th years to drink poison - mind games, that's trivial, same day I had to leave the fifth year class back in January. Schlagenweit - the one you haven't met - turned a curse most certainly not taught on Knight, I lost control of them all. Took almost all my strength not to split Schlagenweit's head open, despite the fact he was defending Amherst from Knight. Lost Knight for several lessons, still trying to rectify that." He inhaled and raised his head. Perhaps his close contact with Callum was risky, the young man was clever but had the potency to go in the wrong direction. If he saw Ignan as a role model…

"Demonstrated the unforgivables, and had it not been for a frog liberation campaign, I would have taken it too far. Even torturing amphibians brought a certain amount of glee." The Defence Professor's expression was disgust with himself, and he hid his face in his hands a moment, "I used to be fascinated by what people thought when held inches from death with imperio." He dropped his hands and turned slightly in Georg's direction "I think I still am."

With a sigh he sat upright again, a part of him wanting desperately to obliviate Georg, to claim this whole conversation hadn't happened but it was too late.
"Yes, I was worse, I don't think she made me worse, I think I was too far gone by the time I got there. Her influence just took it somewhere it wouldn't have gone alone." Ignan let out a bittersweet laugh at how stupid he had been back then, "I used to use the skinning spell you'd developed to strip those bodies, in some twisted reasoning you'd be proud to see it put to good use."

Knowing that possibly had gone too far in terms of honesty, Ignan got up abruptly and turned his back on Georg at the foot of the Charms Professor's bed, too ashamed to meet his friend's eyes. It really was a good thing Georg was incapacitated somewhat.

"Perhaps I should resign, be easier on you, and Tapendra, Hogwarts wouldn't have to answer questions later. Its not as if the staff comings and goings in the past academic year would mean it would be noted too highly." He turned back and leaned against the wall, his eyes resting about the point Georg's knees were in the bed.

Again, Georg sat in silence as Ignan spoke, watching the man's body language from the corner of his eye. The obvious distress was...good, perhaps, though Ignan's words were hardly reassuring. He closed his eyes again. If Ignan was doing this in front of students, maybe...maybe it was just a matter of time until he turned on them, until one disobedient cry was all it took to end that student's life...

He shuddered - minutely - at the mention of the imperious curse. That...was not something he personally could stomach. To enjoy it - it took a certain kind of mind, the one he wished Ignan didn't have.

"By all rights I should hex you, for that. There's a lot of things I should hex you for," he said to the skinning comment. Then he sighed and grunted; his tone sardonic. "Though I suspect it was a matter of time until that one got used that way..." He sighed again, leaning back into the pillows.

"You're a damn fool, Ignan," he said. "A damn fool. What if you did resign - how would that make it easier on me?" he said, his tone odd; light, for some reason. Part of him was shocked he took this all so calmly. Maybe it was because this was what he'd wanted to hear from Ignan for decades. He'd wanted Ignan to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness - to hear the sadness in Ignan's voice, the regret for his actions. And hearing it...it made it better.

"I worry about you, Ignan. I wish I didn't, but I do. What would you do if you did resign? Where would you go? What do you have, if it isn't this?" His look turned sharp. "And what's to stop you from falling again?"

"I'd prefer if you did," Ignan told Georg oddly, "I thought you might have asked me to leave or decided you wanted nothing to do with me before I was a third through what I've said." Ignan listened to Georg reproachfully.

"If I went, it would mean you wouldn't have to rely on me." He told Georg "Or worry about me, not that you have to now. I'd go anywhere, it wouldn't matter."

The previous evening he'd wondered if it would all be easier just to take too much sleeping potion and not wake up. Such thoughts hadn't crossed his mind since just before he dragged himself back to Germany, and confessed enough to his elderly father as to why he couldn't just waltz back into the Ministry. He really was a coward, life wasn't so bad at all, he just hadn't ever anticipated his time with Azorma would catch him up when everything had been becoming stable, becoming better - what with Tapendra and then Georg, and various extended family becoming agreeable company now he wasn't so busy escaping them.

He gave a solemn nod.
"You are, as always, correct, Georg." Returning to his seat he was humbled. "We don't deserve each other. You are a greater man than I can ever hope to be, Kirchlehner." With a weak smile he pushed conversation away - knowing it wouldn't be the last time it was mentioned, but there was little more that could be said until the dust settled.

"What did you do after Zurich?" He asked Georg, referring to the evening where they had quarrelled so badly Ignan had tried to use the killing curse on Georg, who had knocked him unconscious before he could finish. Ignan had woken alone in a wrecked rented abode and had fled, licking his wounds and running with the money without taking on the six wizards he had been commissioned to take care of by the Swiss aurors.

"China?" He guessed, Georg had always been interested in magic from the countries around China, though Ignan had always resisted too much travel in that direction, preferring the Middle Eastern countries.

"Would you rather I did? My wand's around here somewhere," Georg told him matter-of-factly. "I still might, when I'm feeling better. Just so you know."

He rubbed his chin, fingers absently playing with his mustache; a habit formed long ago. "I'd worry more, not being able to keep an eye on you, Ignan. Besides...you have people here you'd rather not disappoint, do you not? They're a safety barrier, of sorts. Without them..."

He let the implication hang, and patted Ignan on the shoulder once - which, really, was worth more than words. He'd never fully forgive Ignan for trying to kill him; but maybe, just maybe, the good could once again outweigh the bad. And in life, that was about all one could ask for.

"Japan, actually," he said, trying not to think to that quarrel - to the sick feeling of rage, the horror of Ignan's almost animalistic fury.

"I traveled in Asia for some time - some main land China, Japan, the outlying islands. Australia's a nice place, you really should visit sometime - I don't think there's a single animal on that place that isn't somehow trying to kill you."

Georg's pat to Ignan's shoulder signalled more forgiveness than Ignan ever expected to achieve. He looked thankfully to his best friend, though realised he'd always be in debt to Georg.

Ignan let out a chuckle at the comment about Australia. It sounded exactly like the descriptions they'd enjoy while they travelled together - when they'd meet other wizards and exchange recommendations on where to go next. A whiff of adventure or something unusual, and they were packing their bags.

"Sounds like the perfect place to visit this summer." He agreed, glad to cast aside the tension of the conversation even for a moment.

"If you'd go back again, that is." He added as an afterthought, testing the water ever so slightly. There were after all, far worse people to look out for him than Georg, and if he was determined enough, he wouldn't need to test his friend's patience again.

"The summer's the best time to visit, actually. They've got winter the wrong way around there...and their winter is still like summer up here," he said, smiling ever so slightly. "Hot as a Devil's armpit. You'd have to wear something other than black, I'm afraid," Georg added, humor in his tone now.

He relaxed again, leaning further back into the pillows. He set the glass of whiskey aside. "What are you going to do?" he asked, tone much more serious now. "You'll have to say something to Trishna, you know. He doesn't seem the sort to let it lie."

Georg felt somewhat unsure about that observation. He didn't have enough experience with the younger man to feel he had the 'measure' of him, yet. He didn't really want to bring the tension back, either - he didn't like being tense around Ignan, under any circumstances. But this, well, emotional tension was new and definitely not entirely comfortable - it brought back a night that he wanted to forget. But it had to be said.

"If he lets it lie, then so will I." Ignan replied, logically. "We've had to concoct some lie to his daughter about what she saw in my boggart, and the little madam's too suspicious." He frowned. "Trouble is that I'm off to see Schlagenweit tomorrow morning, early, and Trishna's coming with me. Been arranged for a while now."

Ignan shrugged, there wasn't much he could do. They could keep their distance, but they'd still have to work together as colleagues. If they parted company as friends, they would have to explain why to others, and that meant lies and suspicion. Yes it was going to be difficult, and undoubtedly at some point Tapendra would literally explode with questions, but this week there were too many things on one's mind - including the werewolf. Besides, it would only be fair to enlighten Georgiana with regards to Ignan's relationship, given that Azorma was also her mother.

"Georgiana doesn't know at the moment, and I will leave that to Tapendra's discretion until she asks me outright." He added thoughtfully. "I dislike the deception, but equally, its not as if I have been keeping this a secret from the Trishna's - I've really been quite unaware. If he wants to beat the hell out of me, then he's welcome to do it - likewise are you - at the front of the queue."

He let out a chuckle, imagining the queue in his head, Georg and Tapendra near the front, Cy too… then a lot of his students.
"A queue which seems to be longer than most." He added with a smirk.

"Now, the important thing is, you're on the mend. There was only so much I could do to get out teaching your damned classes tomorrow, so if you don't mind healing a little faster…"