Avoiding Tapendra was both easy and very difficult in a large castle. Firstly, the man kept himself up in the Astronomy tower quiet often, and Ignan knew his timetable - equally, Ignan taught solid days apart from Friday. Then there were mealtimes, where one could distance or ensure they ate at different times.

So far it had gone well, though it was becoming clear to their colleagues something odd was afoot. The two would normally converse freely if they ate together, or at least acknowledge each other in the corridors, but since Saturday night, Ignan had resolutely ignored and avoided Trishna.

He'd sent more students in two days to detention than he had since that awful week in January - he'd deducted points, awarded none in the lessons of Monday and Tuesday, leaving the students reeling. He was known for being pretty strict, slim on awarding points, but he'd now achieved standards of stingy teaching that made Austerlitz sound nice. 

Earlier, Georg had caught Ignan threatening to hex the two gargoyles outside the staff room who had made a comment about his mood. They'd been quickly interrupted by other colleagues and Ignan had brushed him off and felt he owed his best friend a little more respect, despite his furious mood.

Knocking on the doors to Georg's rooms, Ignan realised with relief that Tapendra probably didn't know Georg well enough to visit, or even know where they were.

"Sorry about earlier." Ignan apologised to Georg, stepping inside the cluttered rooms, packed full of Georg's souvenirs from travelling. He'd always been one for keepsakes and curios - dragons included.

"But the two of them can give students all the cheek they like but Professors should be respected." He slid his hands into his suit pockets and leaned against one of the bookcases brimming with artefacts.

"I didn't mean to take it out on you." He uttered, and half closed his eyes, feeling a little foolish.

Georg, who'd been sitting at his writing desk, raised an eyebrow. He had his pipe in one hand, wand in the other, and his feet up on the extra chair. Instead of replying to Ignan's sudden arrival right away, he finished lighting up, taping his pipe and breathing out the smoke as a ring.

"No worries," he said, tone carefully neutral. But Ignan knew him well enough; the slight narrow to his eyes and caution in his tone said everything he wasn't saying, at least right away.

"What's wrong?" He asked, finally, tapping out some of the ash from his pipe and taking his feet off the chair, nudging it in Ignan's direction. He gave him a slightly baleful look. "And don't try to say nothing, if the students can see it, then everyone can."

"Ah." Ignan replied, shoulders sinking, of course the Hogwarts grapevine would be rife considering his horrible mood. His hand fell on the back of the nudged chair and he found his way into it with a quiet sigh.

"I've seen her." He told Georg, not defining who, "she's alive." He rubbed at his chin and then rested his elbows on his knees, sitting forward, watching Georg puff away at his pipe. It was oddly reassuring to see his friend doing that, and be amongst all their history.

"I went to the Ministry with Tapendra, Georgiana and Cyhirae on Saturday. Wanted to be sure they had Azorma." He shuffled his hands, looking down at the aged skin, his fingers nicked and grazed habitually. "They have, that made things rather difficult." He looked up at Georg, his grumpy expression falling away to genuine upset.

"I've led myself to believe she's been dead for over a decade, and now she's alive, and dear Merlin, I would do anything to get her out of there." Ignan admitted, "I am a fool, Georg."

Georg looked at his old friend carefully, Ignan's response belong rather a lot to process given the weight of it. His pipe sat in his hand for some time, the smoke curling high above them in the raised ceiling.

"I see," he said finally, if only to fill the widening gap of silence. "There's no hope of an acquittal or pardon, I suppose..."

He trailed off, dumping the ash from his pipe again. "I'm sorry, Ignan," he said, finally. He partly did want to quip that of course it was a woman behind Ignan's annoyance, but he was not that cruel. At the moment, anyway.

"What happened at the Ministry, then?" He asked, reaching into the depths of his desk almost automatically and extracting his current bottle of firewhiskey. He passed it to Ignan. "Considering your treatment of Trishna, I assume something happened." He smirked, slightly. "The rumor mill's guess is a rather distressing one, I should add."

"Georg, its fine, I'm not looking for answers." Ignan told his friend reproachfully. "You asked, and I owe you an answer after earlier." He took the whiskey but put it aside, not touching it.

"Tapendra saw her first, and called me in. She wasn't best pleased - considering I didn't get her killed, but nearly did." Ignan sat back in Georg's chair, thoughtful, and recalled Saturday. "She proposed we got married, of all the unthinkable outcomes."

Despite himself, his expression changed to a genuine smile - his heart glad that she could still feel that way towards him after so much time, but it was short lived and drooped away again in his aged features.
"Totally impractical, but just as we were, back then." He shook his head.

"No, its pretty much a done deal she'll go to Azkaban. She went after one of Johann's colleagues." He agreed with Georg. "What rumours was that then? I've avoided Tapendra since, but Georgiana and Cyhirae I have to teach - so I wouldn't put it past them to start something." Ignan glanced at the whiskey, and gestured.

"Don't let me stop you." 

"Sounds like she got over her anger, then," he said, tone oddly peppy for a moment. "You said no, I assume." The Daily Prophet would have a wild time with that, he was sure. As would...well, any newspaper that followed Merik Storm's reign of Durmstrang. Ignan would be fired, certainly; though he'd be more likely asked to step down rather than truly fired. It wasn't illegal to marry an imprisoned criminal, after all. Just...bizarre. And, for parents, worrisome.

He couldn't say he liked the idea of this woman, though, given Ignan's descriptions of her. She sounded extremely worrisome, influence-wise..."I'll spare you the rumors," he said, rolling his eyes slightly. "They involve a lover who's half your age, we'll say." He paused, figuring Ignan could draw the line if he wanted to.

"So what happens now?" He asked, doing his best to hide the worry at Ignan not accepting the drink. That was certainly unlike him.

"You said no, I assume."

"Uhm..." He let Georg explain about the rumours and shook his head. "Really, not half as inventive as the truth. The students are slipping. They've been pairing Tapendra and I off for months now, since his birthday." He gestured nonchalantly with a hand, not so bothered.

"I told her I'd wait." He assured Georg. "I know, repercussions and all. I took a risk going there in the first place, knowing the aurors would wonder what I was there for and note I knew her. Then again, I've always known that would catch up with me. I just hoped I might be good enough at what I do now." He meant, good enough at teaching, and an asset to Hogwarts. The place was legend for helping those who deserved its assistance. Whether he qualified for that yet, he doubted, but he could always hope.

"They could have arrested me there and then - I got us thrown out!" Ignan grumbled. "But they didn't. I suppose I didn't have my wand so they believed me to be no threat. But, I could have, only I knew it would be a disservice to the Trishnas."

Sitting back he folded his arms.
"We'll see. Though, I've already drafted my resignation. Best to go quietly if the Ministry take an interest in my suitability. Another loss to Snark, especially as she agreed to take me on. But, it won't do to upset the students so close to their exams. Call it pride, but I want them to do bloody well just to show." He laughed hollowly.

"So, if I do go, give them what they want, the aurors, don't let them go for you too." He reached for the whiskey, summoned a glass and poured one for Georg. Much as he wanted to pour one himself, it hadn't helped at the weekend, and he needed to keep a clear head.

"Rumors almost never are, mm," Georg said, puffing thoughtfully.

"Wait for what?" His tone was a tad sharper than he'd intended, giving a hint as to his worry at this idea. He sighed, settling slightly, looping his ankles together. "I apologize. You've thought sanely about it, at least..."

He took the offered drink, tossing it back with his usual gusto. "Hrmph. What did you do, punch an Auror?" He doubted it; in fact, he could guess what Ignan had done, after knowing him all these years. He couldn't help the hint of a playful smirk. "I hope the girls were out of the room, at the very least," he said with a soft laugh.

"Speaking of a disservice..." He looked at Ignan thoughtfully. "Can't think of what to say to Trishna, then?" He considered the odd state Trishna had been in when he'd last seen him; it wasn't odd on the outside, but considering everything that seemed to have been going on...

"He seems bizarrely chipper, given what you've said," Georg said, refilling his glass.

"They weren't, as it happens. Tapendra probably had a lot to explain when he got back." He smirked, "Its not every day the love of your life, bound and set for Azkaban asks you to marry her. Not a time you can think straight."

Ignan nodded at Georg's description of Tapendra. What he had seen of the man, it looked as if nothing was wrong - that his mother wasn't held by the Ministry ready for trial for the attempted murder.

"But that's how he does it. He wears a better mask than I do these days. Its like he was expecting what happened - if he hadn't he wouldn't have taken his daughter certainly. He was more surprised when I told him his mother was dead - well - she is according to my memories, but I can't trust them now." Tapping the side of his head he pondered on it.

"No, I can't think of what to say to him. Nothing helpful. If he's hiding like that, then fine. He's learned something from me and actually is putting it into practise at last." In truth he was quite impressed with Tapendra for doing so. The man seemed initially baffled about locking himself away - but it was just something he'd done all his life in a different context.

"We will talk in time, just I think we both need some time to work out what happens next." Ignan tapped his fingers on the top of Georg's writing desk.

"I swear you pack more into this room each time I visit."

"If I ever have a similar experience, we'll have to compare notes," he said with a cheeky smirk. Still, both of Trishna's girls were annoyingly sharp, in some ways. Mostly the tiny one whose name he could never spell correctly. She was smart and snobby, which in Georg's experience were not a good combination.

"Hm," He said. "If you'll forgive the implication, I suspect half of his surprise was likely in finding how you knew his mother," Georg said with a muted laugh. "That'd be a shock for anyone, I think. Add her death to that..." He waved a hand dismissively.

"What happens next...Or find out what the Aurors do?" He said, more prophetically than he realized. "Might be best to have your moves figured out before they make theirs, Ignan."

He puffed his pipe again, considering. "Don't worry about me; my record, unlike yours, is stainless. Any crime I've been involved with has long since gone cold." He narrowed his eyes a moment. "I'd consider that as lucky point, if I were you, of course."

"Ha," Ignan couldn't help but smile. Georg rarely failed to lift his spirits. They were such good friends - so uncomplicated - despite all their decades and nasty split from each other they could just go back to being two older men, two very good friends.

"I wish you could be - always thought you'd have married and settled down when I heard of you again." He admitted, lacing his fingers together thoughtfully.

"I suppose you're right, he probably was surprised in that way - but almost less so in how I felt about her still. Strikes me that she had a lot of men who treated her with less consideration I had. Who didn't really love her at all. He thanked me - even when I thought I'd killed her." He shrugged, confused. "I think I'll bottle that memory until I can find something to do with it."

Watching Georg puff his pipe he nodded.
"I do, though I wouldn't put it past these two aurors to get desperate if they turn up nothing concrete. Technically I've already been tried for what Azorma and I were involved in - and I complied, with their potions and other methods. I've not cast anything that way here. They'll want to know what I can tell them about her, get me to add to her crimes - but they'll not have anything." He set his jaw, looking aside from Georg and folding his arms defiantly.

"I'd say Tapendra's more at risk of cracking. He went to pieces last time they visited him. But, if as you say, nothing appears to be wrong, he must be holding up a lot better these days." Ignan shrugged. "Best we don't confer - that way he only looks after himself." He looked to Georg, "Whereas I trust you to do the right thing, Tapendra's still an unknown quantity... besides, when you travel with someone for a decade, you see more of them than most women might."

"As I said, never found the right woman," he said. "Too domestic or not enough. Never found one in between or one that'd make me change my mind." He smirked, slightly. "Sounds like you weren't on the hunt for certain traits when you found her, though."

An eyebrow twitched as he described the scene with Trishna. "'mm," he said, in acknowledgement. "Bottle it, hm? Memories don't necessarily need a purpose, Ignan. It's alright to simply have some of them." He smiled, slightly. "And they give you something to think about."

He put his feet up on his writing desk, regarding Ignan thoughtfully. "Did he? Seemed calm enough. Calmer than you, actually, from what I saw." Though Georg had been too busy being drunk to really note the younger man's absence from the school. "You really think he's the type to..." He made the gesture of someone throwing something of conciliatory nature to a shark. He smirked. "Though the right thing isn't always the right thing, you know..."

"Sounds like you weren't on the hunt for certain traits when you found her, though."

Ignan could confirm Georg was entirely right. There had only been one time in his life he'd fallen for someone in that way - and although he potentially had many years to go, he wasn't getting any younger. It would just be his luck to fall for someone so crushingly beautiful and devious as Azorma. No other woman on the earth was like her, and no other would be - save perhaps for her daughter. That was a scary thought.

"Bottle it, hm? Memories don't necessarily need a purpose, Ignan. It's alright to simply have some of them. And they give you something to think about."

"Only if they're true." Ignan replied bitterly to himself.

Georg put his feet up on his writing desk, regarding Ignan thoughtfully. Ignan pushed the fact he now faced any memory he had of his time in Italy as being polluted or damaged. He couldn't trust them.

"Did he? Seemed calm enough. Calmer than you, actually, from what I saw. You really think he's the type to... Though the right thing isn't always the right thing, you know..."

"I'm glad he's calm. Even if him falling to pieces is more his usual style. I believe me keeping my distance is forcing him to keep it together, because the responsibility falls to him. I thought the aurors would be at our doors long before now - mine particularly. Yes, I'm not exactly keeping it together, which is a poor show. Picking fights with gargoyles, tsk." He shook his head at himself. "Not my best moment, but better them than anyone else." He sighed and gave a shrug.

"My apologies for yet again bringing troubles to your door, Georg. I am fortunate you followed me to Hogwarts by chance, but the rest, I wish it had stayed away, but I'd be a fool to think it wouldn't catch up. I'd just hoped it wouldn't be too soon." He gave a wistful half smile, seized the bottle and poured himself a very modest glass.

"Ha, you are thinking shut up and drink. Living amongst teenage hormones is having a bad influence!" He looked up at Georg, and chuckled, "Dear Merlin, you and that moustache, perhaps you should take up Juliette's offer of writing a book with her." Finally, spirits a little lighter, he lifted the glass to his lips.

"He could also be falling to pieces in the privacy of that tower of his," Georg said simply, then smirked. "I wouldn't pretend to know. With the music and sounds that echo down from up there, he could be doing just about anything, really." He chuckled.

"Let's hope their delay proves to be beneficial for you two, then," Georg said, his demeanor becoming more serious as he sighed. "I'd assume they're hoping you'll slip up - and possibly gathering more evidence. Hopefully when the hammer falls, you're able to dodge. Not to strain the metaphor..."

He watched Ignan drink, smirking slightly. "Indeed. Hopefully, you're not influencing them back, eh? "

Georg refilled his own glass as Ignan drank, shrugging. "I've come to consider the fact that such an art is one that young men have to create, rather than learn," he said, cryptically. "Otherwise it's simply imitation."

"Metaphor unstrained." Ignan echoed with a nod, and let Georg continue.

"Ha!" He raised his glass to Georg in a toast. "To a life where one's moustache is one's priority." Ignan declared to Georg, envious. Then again, up until very recently his life had just been simple too - teach students, insult students, drink firewhiskey, mark homework, rinse, repeat.

"Not to sound too sentimental, Georg," Ignan added, "But I am very glad we were able to reconcile." A smile appeared on his features, "though I won't be getting down on one knee and proposing to you, old friend." He sipped his whiskey with a raised eyebrow and then chuckled.

"Trishna will crawl out of his hole when he needs me. I guarantee it."