[flashback]
Apr. 20th

Interesting… Very Interesting…

Those were the first two things that Taras Strelnikov thought as he left the small apartment in Muggle London. Someone had warned of his coming and he was not pleased. He had not had the same pleasant experience he had had with his daughter and it left him feeling… well, nothing except a vague indifference.

Maxim had answered the door with a simple raise of his pale eyebrows. The former Zufrieden greeted his father calmly with none of the hysterics that Strellie had displayed. That was to be expected, he had impersonated her favoured brother after all. Nevertheless, the simplicity and lack of reaction that his first bastard child had shown was disturbing.

To say the very least.

Father and Son had had a long conversation punctuated by sips of black coffee. It was the only trait the two of them shared. Maxim looked and acted exactly like his Norwegian mother. They had discussed English politics, the fate of his trade rings, Luca, Jaska, Darya, Maxim, and most of all, Demitria. Maxim had been confused by this fact, but shrugged it off. He made it his deal not to care. He’d let Vasily know and leave the brutish tactics to the Ukranian.

At the end of the conversation, Taras had asked his son how he had known he was coming.

The answer was simple. Tapendra Trishna. A professor that apparently Demitria had opened up to. Not good.

[End Flashback]

Taras had spent the next few months planning how he was going to approach this Professor. At school would not be the wisest choice. One of his wives distant cousins also worked there and apparently he was quite formidable. Not the best of choices. When he had heard that a group from Hogwarts was going to Egypt over the summer, the Russian pureblood had smiled to himself. It was the perfect place. Children running around, a million others he could blend into… Perfect.

He had chosen Luxor from the itinerary he had just “happened upon.” It seemed they had plenty of freetime there that Trishna would not be occupied in. He slipped out of his place in Knockturn holding the international portkey. In a moment he was gone.
He appeared again by the hotel. His had a mild look of surprise. For a public school, they could afford ridiculous locations. Of course, no hotel in the world could hold a candle to any of the four Strelnikov estates.

He slipped inside with a dazzling smile at the hotel receptionist who blushed. He spoke in perfect English “Do you know where I can find Tapendra Trishna? I believe he is with the Hogwarts group?”

The receptionist nodded and told him the way. With a nod of thanks he made his way to the room she had told him of. He knew that Trishna would be confused on who he was… he looked almost nothing like his daughter. All except for their identical ghost green eyes.

Raising a dark hand, he knocked on the door.   

Luxor so far was....well, stressful to say the least. But then, was there such a thing as a relaxing meeting with a lawyer? Especially ones who mostly spoke a language you had only a moderate grasp on?

Tapendra had taken some of his free time off to do what he'd taken a liking to since this legal stuff started; lay around and feel sorry for himself. Anytime he'd felt like cheering up he'd see the bill and the angst would return.

She'd had good intentions, in her own way, but his mother and her family and their damn money and basilisks and criminal connections were so bloody bothersome. He'd always wanted to leave it behind, and he had, and now he owned the damn things.

"Excetera," he said aloud to himself, and sighed. No point bitching about it, really. Except it made him feel better.

The knock at the door wasn't entirely unexpected; he quickly stood up and gathered his dirty laundry, putting them in the basket, and headed to the door. It was the man outside he didn't expect. Mostly because there was nothing in the man's appearance or posture than screamed "hotel employee".

"Can I help you?" Tapendra asked cautiously, attempting and failing to subtly kick the basket of laundry out of sight.

The door was opened by a very tall man. Taras couldn't help but notice that even he, who stood proudly at 6'2" was dwarfed by him. He had the look of an Egyptian, so for a few moments Taras was not completely sure he had the right room. But no. He wad Taras Strelnikov, he did not do things wrong. He had only slipped up once and that had cost him his freedom for seven years.

The Russian had done research on the Astronomy Professor. It hadn't been very hard, considering his mother had been in the Daily Prophet for weeks. The British paper was rubbish, but it provided good leads. He had been suprised to find that the two were related. He had known Azorma, at least by name, when he had introduced his ring to Egpyt roughly 20 years back. The Egyptians and himself had conducted a mutually beneficial, if not friendly relationship. If this Professor were her son he would have expected some qualities to show up. From what he had uncovered, he wasn't like his mother at all.

Pity. It would have gone so much smoother if Tapendra was.

Taras asked promptly "Tapendra Trishna, I presume." He extended his hand " I'm sorry to interrupt you this evening, but I have some important things to discuss with you." The Russian let the suggestion of a harsher accent slip into his voice. He could speak perfect English, but might as well give the other man a few hints.

Tapendra took the other man's hand with a slight but noticeable pause, his smile warm and friendly but, ultimately, forced. He was going down the list of people who'd need to see him - people with Russian accents, how lovely - and was coming up with a complete blank. Well, not a complete one, but the only others he could think of was door-to-door sales or a hitman and the dark haired man certainly fit the second in description, at least.

He was very glad for his wand, and let the sharp tip rest in the palm of his hand from where it'd been shoved up the sleeve of his shirt. Not the most elegant solution, but certainly more at hand than its usual location of a pocket.

"Correct, Mister...?" He didn't open the door yet, but his posture was relaxing from tense surprise to a more friendly and open one, his hand on the door frame. "May I enquire as to the nature of your business?"

Taras lazily raised an eyebrow. The Professor was not very organized. He had tried to hide the basket of laundry, but it wasn't a very successful attempt. He could still see a few articles through the door. The Russian could also see Trishna's slightly confused features. There was no way that he could've known who he was, although if his daughter had given her Professor a description, it was fairly surprising that he still couldn't place him.

He still had the harshness of prison written on his skin.

"Excuse me for being rude," Taras said smoothly as Tapendra returned his handshake warily. Good, he thought. He preferred it when the other person was uneasy. "It's Strelnikov. Taras Strelnikov."

His green eyes flashed, "Thus, I think you know the nature of my business. May I come in? I would rather discuss in private."

Tapendra had a terrible poker face at times, and this was no exception; the reveal of the man's surname certainly surprised him and did nothing to relax him. He stood up to his full height, sucked his breath in and his blue eyes widened - one could even say they bulged.

He made an attempt to appear calmer, but the initial surprise was obvious, even when he tried to hide it behind a quick and steady smile. His smile was sunny as ever, but under the circumstances seemed rather useless.

"I see," he said, carefully. His wand in his hand was suddenly more assuring than ever. "Come on in, then," he added, opening the door to let Taras in. The basket was suddenly useful; it was a way for him to move out of Taras's way without turning his back on the man. He moved it to the bed, sitting next to it. The inside of the room was fairly neat, the sheets of the bed peeled back, and his book sat with a batch of notes and a bookmark in it.

"You need to discuss your daughter, then?" he asked, tone polite and innocent, as if this had to do with Demetria's grades.

The man was obviously nervous, almost even disgustingly so. Could no one from that English school keep their composure? He sniffed slightly. Demitria should have gone to Durmstrang if that were the case. She would've been far better off than going to that school of mere children who blubber and cry to their professors whenever something set them off.

Trishna backed away grabbing a basket of laundry whilst giving the Russian a sunny smile. Taras returned the smile with one of his own. So this was the game they were going to play, strictly buisness. Well, he could certainly do that. Before else, he was a buisnessman. True, his wares were a little unorthodox and his methods frowned upon, but...

His thoughts were brought back to the situation at hand when Trishna brought up Demitria. Before answering, he entered the neat room, his obsessive mind cringing at every detail that wasn't absolutley perfect. 89 degree angles on the bed sheets and such.

"Yes," He responded, enjoying watching the other internally squirm. "We both know that my daughter went to you after I met her in Hogsmeade. I have yet to know exactly what she told you or why." Taras took a hand and swept a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

So it was going to be like that. Fine. Tapendra sat on his bed, posture relaxed - but in that way that kept him just enough on edge that he wasn't dropping his guard.

Somehow this being over something from England was...a relief, in an odd and sort of twisted way. Maybe it was just nice to have good old England breathing down his neck. He understood English criminals, to some extent. The ones his late Egyptian family and mother mixed with...not so much. There was too much tradition in the Egyptian stuff. Strelnikov's motives, as far as Tapendra was concerned, were simple: greed, annoyance, pride, family matters. There weren't any gods or thousand year old blood debts or mountains of gold/skulls/whathaveyou involved. Oh, and no baskalisks, either. He hoped. One was enough.

"She found her meeting with you quite stressful, from what I understand," he said, simply. "As I'm sure you observed," he added, as if Taras hadn't expected or might have been puzzled by Demetria's behavior. "If you want me to tell you what the two of us spoke about, I'm afraid I cannot tell you. Beyond that, I fail to understand your purpose here. " Cannot, while said politely, was unmistakably a nice way to say absolutely will not.

These types of situations for Taras were like he was a small child in a candy store. Just the sheer feeling of control he had over the situation was enough to make him grin. Of course, he didn't, but he was sorely tempted to. Although, for some reason, Trishna had seemed to relax slightly. The Russian had an inkling why, as it was probably a welcome break from all the talk about his mother, but that didn't matter.

He listened as the Professor talked to him. He simply inclined his head, his ghost green eyes sparkling identically to his daughter's. "Cannot? What a shame. I can assume though that she told you enough if you sent out a missive to the rest of my family to be aware of my presence." He pasued slightly. "I'm aware, at least that she told you she is not a pureblood. That is confidential information that could jeapordize possible buisness arrangements I have with the Grumanns. I'm sure you've at least heard of them through your connection with Ignan Storm."

He leaned back slightly, so his shoulder blades were just brushing the wall. "You see, the Grummans and I have been very close since back before the Second War. They supplied, I dealt, and so forth. But that's beside the point." He waved a hand in dismissal. "What is important is that before his death, Orfeo and I made a deal that one day, my daughter, a respectable pureblood would marry his son, Arturo. By her revealing to someone outside of the family that she is not perfect, she has put that agreement in danger."   

Oh Merlin, it's one of you bastards, Tapendra thought to himself. He knew this type. They had their individual quirks, yes, but they were all basically smug self-important purebloods with their pricks where their brains should be.

And Taras's choice of words did not improve his standing on Tapendra's mind. Tapendra made this painfully obvious; his eyes narrowed, his jaw set, and his wand was gripped subtly tighter as his lips curled into a scowl. Disguising his emotions was never a strong point of his, and now he wasn't trying.

"And yet you chose to reveal that fact to her," he pointed out, coldly. "The fact she revealed it to me is secondary; had you not said anything, your deal would be fine, and you'd not had to haul yourself overseas." He tilted his head slightly, looking Taras up and down. I wasn't aware perfect was a new term for inbred, he thought darkly. Purebloods and their blasted family lines!

"So you're here to silence me, is that it?" He asked sharply.