Evening

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“How many students do you have left?” Johann asked his features lightened by a boyish grin and eyes mischievous. Ignan gave a sniff of mock disapproval, his eyes keenly studying his young cousin’s face.

Johann looked older than he did when he arrived in Britain, yet it had only been a few months. Working for the British ministry wasn’t doing him any good. Ignan recalled how young and worried Johann had looked when he’d turned up unexpectedly and begged Ignan very formally to give him shelter for a few days while he sorted his affairs. Now, months later, Ignan was somewhat returning the request, only for information not shelter, and in a way that Johann would hopefully not see through.

“Too many.” Ignan replied gravely, and raised the wine glass to his lips. He was usually a spirit drinker, but Johann had suggested the wine, and had picked a good Elven vintage with a deep rich red colour. With the younger cousin paying for the bottle, Ignan knew it was wise not to complain.

“If you mean, have I attempted to kill any more since January, then, no, I’ve managed to prevent myself, even if several of them have almost managed it unaided.” It was his turn to mirror Johann’s humour, a smirk appearing on his face, with sarcasm in his tone. Typical of their family to make jokes about death and scores, but Ignan had long lost count of the scores he’d had a hand in slitting throats of. As the wizard he was today, he marvelled at how incompetent the international aurors must have been not to have caught up with him in the 1980s.

“How many colleagues have you crossed?” Ignan returned to Johann, wine glass in hand, and eyebrow raised. “How many of the Department of International Magical Co-operation want to wipe the smug grin from your face each day?”

They were not in anyone else’s company, and sat in the corner of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, both facing into the room so they had a clear view of everyone nearby. Language had switched from English while stood at the bar to German for conversation once seated. It felt rusty to go back to it, for Ignan, who had become used to speaking and thinking in English again. However, it reduced the likelihood of being easily listened to, and gave them a mutual respect for their nationality.

“A few.” Johann nodded, “It’s boring if you don’t ruffle a few feathers, and I have to have at least one scapegoat.” He scratched his chin where a shadow was beginning to form, but facial hair generally came slowly to Johann, so it didn’t worry him. “My favourite is Hamilton, we crossed before I got the job, and someone gave him antlers the other day, so the feeling is clearly shared by another colleague. Driving me mad to find out who it was, because Hamilton, Gabrielle and the majority of the level think it was me.” Johann wrinkled his nose. “I admit, I made them bigger and escorted him to St Mungo’s for a good laugh, but potion isn’t my style.”

Sat beside him, Ignan raised his head and changed his expression to doubt. Johann’s eyes picked up on it and widened slightly. Professor Storm was using his teacher skills to use a mere expression to make Johann stumble over his explanation. Only he did it in a much nicer way than Johann had experienced Merik, Ignan’s father doing it (normally combined with a hex and a far darker look.)

“What are you implying with that face?” Johann demanded, putting down his glass and sitting forward a little to turn towards Ignan, examining the older wizard’s face, with its lines and age.

“Nothing.” Ignan replied simply, with a flick of his eyes to Johann’s face and the slightest hint of a smirk growing on the left corner of his mouth. Johann’s eyes narrowed. Nothing, his backside.
“I didn’t!” Johann exclaimed exasperatedly for what felt like the hundredth time. Merlin, he would find the person who did, and after shaking their hand, out them for the sake of his own name.

“No, I was more considering your sweeping comment about potions in general.” Ignan elaborated gently, before sipping at his wine again, eyes lowering to it. “It’s not only you and I who talk in this family, Johann.” His blue eyes flicked to Johann’s own, which closed slowly, with corresponding sigh.

“Gabrielle?” The younger cousin asked, almost rhetorically, and flicked his hands upwards exasperated. “I need to move out Ignan, she’s making my life hell.”

“Well, you’re not moving into the castle again.” The Hogwarts Professor followed up hastily. He liked Johann enough as a family member, but living with the young man would undoubtedly shorten both their lives. Besides, with the aurors on the gates, and all the animosity, it was harder still for Johann to be a guest at any time in the castle.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Johann replied equally hasty, “Though how is dear Hooch?”

When Johann had stayed with Ignan in January, he’d wandered against Ignan’s request, and encountered Arianna Wickwood, the counsellor and also Xiomara Hooch, the steely determined quidditch tutor and for that moment she met Johann, Hogwarts watch dog. Johann had been intrigued by her responses; Ignan hadn’t, and had almost thrown Johann out on the spot after being informed.

“Still there, still not interested in your humour.” Ignan replied, the two of them having readopted staring into the body of the Three Broomsticks, where nobody was sat within three tables of them. The patrons that Sunday evening were mostly drawn to a game of cards in the opposite corner where one of the players using his talent as a seer according to his opponents. The two Storm cousins had spent ten minutes watching the game at a distance shortly after arriving, interested in the body language and interchange of the English, before both agreeing something unusual was going on, and not to play poker in this pub subsequently.

“How is she making your life ‘hell’ Johann?” Ignan asked, having turned back to look at Johann with momentary concern like a parent.

He was in touch with Camille and Wolfgang, Johann’s parents, who had mentioned the German Ministry of Magic had visited to ask questions about Johann the previous week. They were displeased given his scant explanation to the rest of the family about what trouble he’d landed himself in to cause his flee to England in January, and the Ministry were ambiguous as to what their purpose for asking questions had been.

It worried Camille horribly, and Ignan had yet again found himself sympathising with a family member and parent over their son, expecting Ignan to keep some sort of tab on them. Vasily, yes, he accepted it might help, but Johann was a law unto himself and perfectly capable of getting out of his own mess.

Wolfgang had elaborated further in a letter of his own, that in the days after Johann had left, their son’s abode (which Johann had rented from another family member) had been torn apart by intruders searching, though they had no way of telling if anything had been taken, just a lot of mess. Apparently Johann had been more concerned by owl that his books were still there and the place hadn’t gone up in flames. That sounded somewhat like the Johann sat beside him.

“She’s my superior at work, Ignan, even if she’s not my direct superior; she wants me to report to her. It’s because she trusted me to tell her if someone wasn’t pulling their weight at first, but now its questions about my work and how thorough I am. It is not my problem that I clear work up at double the speed the others do.” Johann was always infuriated by the pedestrian speed his colleagues thought and fulfilled their work. Equally, he was too hasty in their views.

“We spend too much time together, so I spend it out. Her house elf is far too nosy; I’m apparently irritating for keeping unusual times and I’m evasive.” Johann explained further, stepping round the most significant point (that was the evasive part) – he was clearing up Vedir Prideaux’s documents, and if Gabrielle caught sight of even one of them, she’d lynch Johann, force him to hand over the rest and probably drug him with veritaserum to ensure she got everything she could on Prideaux.

“Well, it was never going to be a long term solution.” Ignan agreed, somewhat sympathetically. “Probably best to create some distance. You could always go home.” Johann’s head flinched up.
“Home?”
“To Germany.” Ignan replied. “You implied England was a short term solution. You had everything set up back there with your own clients. Can you not pick up again?”

Johann looked positively spooked at the suggestion in such plain terms. Ignan could tell for sure now that there was most definitely unfinished business keeping Johann away from Germany. It was the look Ignan saw his own face give when he thought about being forced to return to Italy at any occasion.

“No, it’s been too long.” Johann replied firmly, “I needed a change. Britain is exciting, and I’d never get to have a Sunday night drink with you, would I?” he smiled, though he felt incredibly uneasy by the way Ignan had straight out implied he should return to his freelancing in Germany.

Yes, it had been fine, but he was still incredibly scared by what was going on back there. The Ministry had once been on his side: happy for him to provide them with enough to arrest his client trading in hallucinogenic ingredients, and then ruining it at the crucial moment, leaving Johann exposed. The same Ministry had been got at since, bribed, fed the opposite information, and he was trying desperately to think how to fix things. He’d even considered being desperate enough to ask Vedir to contact the trader to scare him – Johann knew Vedir had power, contacts and a great standing.

“Unless you want rid of me? But you asked me to come out here tonight. What’s happened to Georg and Tapendra?” Johann asked quickly, diverting attention to Ignan successfully.

“Overworked, under-paid.” Ignan replied gruffly. “Georg and I were in here yesterday evening celebrating a friend’s birthday, Torquil Foley, you know him? Tapendra’s not about at the moment.”

“I know of him.” Johann agreed, suspecting that the wine was therefore hair of the dog given the way the two older wizards drank. “I didn’t know you knew him though.”

“Met him a long time back,” Ignan explained without hesitation “before I came home, and I teach his children now. Always good to know a few people from outside of Hogwarts. You get the opportunity not to live with your colleagues, I don’t. Hogwarts is however vast enough not to live on top of each other, even if one has to share it with all the students.” Ignan inclined forwards to refill their glasses.

“Ah, that’s what I was meaning to ask you.” Johann’s ears metaphorically pricked up as he watched Ignan pour, and recall a question he wanted to pose. Questions were good.

“I need to please some governors, just in case I do kill some of the students. Heard Vedir Prideaux’s most likely to agree with me, and has good standing. Could have sworn you mentioned knowing him?” Ignan asked in a carefree tone, as casual as if they were chatting - not because Ignan wanted to pick Johann’s mind about the wizard who earlier that day Tapendra had disclosed played mind games with a teenage Tappy and had screwed Ignan’s lover, Azorma, Tapendra’s mother.

Johann had just lifted the newly filled wine glass a fingertip from the table top before landing it back down suddenly at Ignan’s question about Vedir. His mind shot backwards through his last encounter with Ignan for any recollection of having mentioned Vedir. He’d been so sleep deprived, it had been quite a risk he might have mentioned Prideaux as having heard of him or read something in the paper.

Johann’s mind which usually began to switch off in close company and give up being hyper observant tuned back in on Ignan and assessed whether the comment about Ignan having heard Johann mention Vedir was a lie or truth. It suggested truth, and that Ignan wasn’t so sure of the connection, therefore Johann had flexibility to lie through his teeth.

“I know of his name in Ministry circles.” Johann confirmed truthfully. “Businessman. Bought one of the properties I showed Bergen round.  I told you about Bergen’s visit in one of my letters, didn’t I, because Sasha was with me for the morning?” Ignan raised his eyes to recall back, and nodded to confirm, remembering he had received a brief letter from Johann about having been asked to be an estate agent and unexpectedly being given Sasha as a charge. The two of them were now regularly working with Sasha as mentors of sorts, given Ignan’s Friday tutoring every two weeks.

“He bought one of the houses?” Ignan asked, encouraging Johann to explain more of what he could. Both relieved and irritated Johann might only have peripheral knowledge of Vedir.

“Yes, one in Diagon Alley. Was a bit of a wreck, probably better to clear it and start with a new building there. Bergen didn’t go for it.” Johann confirmed, not elaborating any further, for any further elaboration might betray him to Ignan.

“Ever met him?” Ignan pursued, regretting having to do the leg work with the questions. Johann was usually very chatty about people, and his shorter answers indicated he might actually be holding back, which was an altogether more worrying thought. Key reasons for avoiding such elaboration were either due to his responsibilities at the Ministry, or worse.

Johann exhaled, and rubbed at his black curls, which needed cutting, looking away from Ignan and thinking.
“Once in passing in the Atrium, nice enough fellow,” Johann appeased Ignan, lying. “Lovely eyes,” he added in a mutter, and then looked horrifically at his wine.

Ignan stared at Johann and blinked.
“What did you say?”
“Lovely wine. I picked a good one, though I say it myself.” Johann spoke more clearly and blinked hard.

“Yes…” Ignan agreed, still staring at Johann. He could have sworn the younger man had just told him Vedir Prideaux had ‘lovely eyes’. Then again, perhaps that was Ignan’s suspicion that Johann was never going to go after women and was perhaps the sort to chase after smartly dressed men.

To date he’d not shown interest in either, to the confusion of his parents and the rest of the family who had established a pool and at opportune times at social events would drop hints that Johann had always missed completely. Ignan had until now had his money on Johann going to the grave without showing even as much as a sniff of interest in another person romantically.

“I should send an owl to Juliette again; it’s been weeks since we sat just over there by the fire and caught up.” Johann changed the subject, pointing towards the table by the fireplace, recalling the night Juliette had sat with her red hair reflecting all the colours of firelight and they had talked of France and students having crushes on her.
“How has she been, she seemed really happy when I saw her?” Johann asked Ignan, as her colleague.

Ignan Storm had sipped his wine as the pause between them had occurred so awkwardly. Now Johann was asking about a friend’s well being, female friend, Ignan noted, and Ignan’s colleague.
“Well, we talk over meals.” Ignan agreed tentatively, “I don’t have much cause to interfere with her classes, nor her mine. Happy, well, yes, not really something I’ve noted in particular about Juliette. I feel I’m a bit old to enquire too much into a younger lady’s background or emotions. Besides, isn’t that why they keep female friends, and those occasional male friends with feminine approaches?”

“Really?” Johann asked, as if it was something entirely new to him. He wasn’t quite sure what Ignan was on about.
“I realised the other day I have a ridiculous number of witches for friends. It’s not a bad thing, I like spending time with Hannah a lot for instance, but Colin reckons its not very,” Johann paused and recalled the English slang “blokey.”

“Colin’s right.” Ignan replied firmly. “It is more unusual in a stereotype, but I think the world’s accepted that you’re not anything stereotypical, Johann. Even your mother’s given up on the thought of you marrying and providing her with grandchildren.” He shrugged, not quite sure how a conversation of Johann explaining how he liked people was going to pan out in the long term. He might have to go back and break the bad news to half the family who had bet on the wrong horse, or gender.

“Merlin, are they still going on about that?” Johann asked, his tone surprised, “It’s ridiculous. You haven’t got married or come home with a woman, and you’re twice my age.”

“Ha!” Ignan hooted, “You don’t know the half of it. I very much like women, and have quite happily shared a bed with many.” The two of them stared at each other and burst out laughing.

“I never… is that why you never talk about when you were away, because you spent…?” Johann was finding it very difficult to understand what his cousin had just disclosed, and after putting his wine glass down, scrambled to sit with one leg propped beneath him and drew a little closer.

“What, back a moment.” Johann suddenly realised what had been emphasized, dropped his leg again and turned to look into the room again, as if he’d reconsidered what he was going to ask.

Ignan watched his younger cousin think back, and his expression muddle and then clear. He was about to lose a bet to half the family, he could see it on Johann’s face. What a strangely enlightening evening this was turning about to be – pity it wasn’t a question and answer on Jonas Trevelyan, but there was time to sow those seeds in Johann’s curious mind later.

Mouth forming the beginnings of several sentences and rethinking, Johann extended his left index finger to point at Ignan and turned his head slightly to look sceptically.
“You all have some bet on at home about me, don’t you?”

Crap, Ignan thought, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all and he almost choked on his wine.
“No!” He lied firmly. “Yes.” He admitted meekly a moment later. “It’s only a bit of fun.”

Johann shook his head and tutted.
“Oh it’s fine. I’ve known for years, just didn’t think you were in on it too.”

“I am sorry, Johann. Its impolite of me to have participated in family teasing for financial gain, or loss, I must admit I thought I was in trouble there.” Ignan admitted, and noted the wine bottle was empty. “I’ll get us another, and then you can tell me if I’ve bet on the right horse.” He chuckled, grasped the bottle and left Johann on his own to scowl at Ignan comically.

Sat at the table by himself while Ignan purchased a second bottle, Johann considered his family’s viewpoint, and the fact he couldn’t give some definitive answer. He didn’t take any interest in romantic relationships unlike the rest of the world which was infatuated. Ignan clearly thought Johann liked men though, otherwise he wouldn’t have emphasised that declaration quite the same. The younger cousin’s features turned sulky.

“Look, we’ll talk about something else.” Ignan offered on arriving back with the bottle uncorked. “But it doesn’t matter either way, honestly. If you like Hannah, you’ll find yourself wrapped round her in bed one night, if you like Colin, the same for him.” Ignan shrugged, phrasing it so easily. He didn’t have many problems with discussing things with Johann now that water had passed under the bridge. It might actually be good for his younger cousin to hear it. Johann, on the other hand, looked traumatised.

“Please.” Johann replied, sounding upset. “Is there anyone else in my life you’d like to quiz me about, instead of the fact I don’t have friends in that way?” His tone switched to irritated and he appeared to be sulking. Ignan cringed, wondering if he’d ruined a chance of bringing up Trevelyan without piquing Johann’s suspicion.

“What do you know about the aurors in London?” He asked outright in as much of an upbeat tone as he could manage, considering the introduction.
“I have to talk to the students about careers soon, and a lot of the fifth years have some romantic idea that being an auror is the best career they could have. I know plenty about getting cursed and losing colleagues in my twenties, but that was forty odd years ago. Had a lady auror in to speak to the seventh years about memory loss the other week, but someone’s suggested a Jonas Trevelyan might be a good speaker, apparently he’s got an interesting background, or am I being had?”

Glad of the change of subject, Johann frowned, recalling a red headed auror who made his way into the Daily Prophet every now and then.
“Well, I can’t say I know him other than I could pick him out of a crowd. I could find out for you though? Save you looking an idiot asking him if he turns out to be one of the dullest men in the aurors.” Johann scuffed a hand through his hair again and mustered a smile.

“Thank you, I would appreciate the help.” Ignan replied genuinely, even if it wasn’t because Jonas would speak in his class (though it could be a very curious way of finding out more about the auror, even if Tapendra would run a mile at inviting him into the castle.) Ignan and Tapendra needed more information about Trevelyan’s link with the Trishnas, and whether he really did have Azorma held. The last they might not confirm until Tapendra visited her.

“I’ll owl you in a couple of days.” Johann agreed, leaning back and cradling his wine, beginning to feel sleepy, and post defensive conversation, he yawned, covering his mouth with his hand politely.
“Wine’s sending me to sleep, not the company or conversation, honestly.” He assured Ignan, “It’s just been a long week. Is this not going to give you a bad head tomorrow for teaching?” Johann raised his wine glass.
“No more than usual.” Ignan replied dully, not looking forward to Monday. “Don’t sleeping potions give you a bad head?”

Johann closed his eyes and sighed.
“Please don’t you give me a lecture as well, or is this something else our dearest family have decided to gamble on?” He cracked open an eye to look at Ignan.

“Then, you accept they have a point?” Ignan asked, looking down at Johann’s defiance by closing his eyes and refusing to look at Ignan apart from squinting at him.

“No.” Johann replied grumpily, sitting back up again. He landed his wine glass heavily on the table. “What I do with potions is my business. Sleeping potions really aren’t the worst things. Everything’s fine, I just could do with everyone giving up the tired line that I’m going to kill myself.”

There was an irritable pause between them once again, and Ignan retreated, uttering the line in a slightly hopeful tone.
“Well, if you do, be sure to do it in your lover’s bed, and then we can settle two bets in one night.”

“Merlin!” Johann exclaimed, landing his fingers of both hands on the edge of the table between them. “And you wonder why I don’t go home!”