Chapter Eight

Unaware of what might happen next and genuinely concerned it might end in a wizards duel right there in the middle of the corridor of the building, Hermione grabbed Igor tightly by his upper arm to pull him away from the uncomfortable situation. The wizard didn't seem to mind. Any excuse to get away from Pasha was welcomed. If her neighbor thought her behavior was odd, he was polite enough not to say so. After wishing them both a good day and greeting George, Pasha resumed his way towards the exit.

Hermione didn't dare speak a single word until she pushed Igor inside her flat and closed the door behind her. Immediately her unwanted houseguest went straight to the sofa to collapse with a deep, dramatic sigh. Already her patience with the man was reaching its end. She wasn't sure how much more she could handle. Maybe she should do as Igor begged when he first learned about Pasha being a neighbor. Kingsley would know what to do, how they could handle the scandal and possible international incident.

Despite wishing to be just about anywhere else after the horrible morning she was already having, Hermione took a seat in the chair next to the sofa the obnoxious man had his entire body stretched out on. His hand covered his face. If she hadn't known better, she would've assumed someone he cared about just died.

"Pasha is your son."

Another heavy sigh was his answer. Hermione clenched her fists, afraid she might launch herself at him and strangle him. How could one person be so damned obnoxious?

"Yes, he is my son. Was my son. I don't know how this all works now that I'm alive again."

"I'd say you were still his father regardless of being dead or not."

Part of her was surprised he didn't deny what was so obvious to anyone who knew what clues to look for. Did he want her to know it all? Did he feel the need to unburden his soul? Secrets were hard to keep under the best of circumstances.

"Of all of the people to bring me back from paradise, it had to be the meddlesome woman that lived across the corridor from my only son."

"You know most fathers would be overjoyed to be reunited with their son after fourteen years. I suppose that tells me all I need to know about what sort of father you are. Can't say I'm surprised."

Igor's blue eyes flashed with undisguised fury when he turned in her direction. She might have been scared if she didn't already know what a petulant, overgrown child he was and also a known coward. Just to be safe, however, she slipped her hand in the pocket of her dressing gown to grab the end of her wand on the off chance he might have grown a pair in the afterlife.

"You don't know anything about the sort of father I was, madam."

"I know that I've never heard Pasha say a kind word about you. If he ever mentioned your name, it was to say what a cruel Headmaster you were and how poorly you treated him compared to the other students."

Furious, Igor sat up abruptly, ready to fly across the room at her throat, if necessary. Clearly questioning his actions was a sore spot for him. At least she could see that he cared somewhat for his son, even if it had more to do with his reputation.

"It wasn't common knowledge that I was his father. His mother requested that I treat him just like any other student."

"Except you didn't. You played favorites with Viktor Krum and acted as if you were embarrassed by your own son."

"I held my son to a higher standard that everyone else. Yes, I'll admit that. I wanted the best for him and I expected more out of him than the other students."

Hermione sighed, annoyed that her Saturday morning had already been complicated and looked as if it would remain so. A big part of her wanted to return to Borgin and Burkes to hex the old man for letting her leave the shop with the damned ring that started all of their problems. No, her problems. She refused to lump herself in with the infuriating man. Her fate was not tied with his.

"Why has Pasha never mentioned that you are his father?"

"Likely for the same reason his mother divorced me while I was in Azkaban and changed his name to her father's surname. She didn't want him tainted as the son of a known Death Eater. After I made my enemies by exchanging names for a lesser sentence? She didn't want our son to be a target. She moved back to Russia and never looked back."

"You were actually married to Pasha's mother?"

The simple question seemed to ruffle his feathers even more than they already were. He narrowed his deep blue eyes at her in what she supposed could've been an intimidating glare if she had any reason to be afraid of him. She didn't. Death Eater he might have once been, but she'd fought enough of them to know how strong she was and the years only made her stronger.

"I don't know what your habits are like when it comes to relationships, but I have enough respect for women to not just impregnate every woman I meet without any care for my actions. Of course I was married to Galina. There was even a point in our lives when we were madly in love with each other."

"And now you're so terrified that she'll find out you're alive that you're willing to do anything to keep the secret. Why? What did you do to her?"

He sighed another heavy, petulant sigh that threatened to push her over the edge of her own sanity. How could one single person drive her so mad? She was half-tempted to help him in his quest for a painless second death.

"Like I said before, my ex-wife has a nasty tendency to hold grudges. She's never forgiven me for being a Death Eater when she told me to stay away from the Dark Lord."

"Can you really blame her? Why would you make such a foolish choice?"

"Because it wasn't foolish as the time. Everyone agreed that the Dark Lord was going to be the future of this country. No one wants to admit it after the fact, but there were a lot of very important people who supported him, both publicly and privately. More than half of the esteemed members of the Wizengamot supported him though many tried to claim later that they didn't. He was charismatic, had a way of drawing you in and making you feel important. It was intoxicating. It's honestly shocking that there aren't dozens of his children running around after the sheer number of witches and wizards who threw themselves at him every chance they got."

Imagining a world populated with multiple sons and daughters of Voldemort filled her with deep dread. While it was likely most of his children would be perfectly ordinary with no desire for blood, immortality or world dominance, even just one who wished to follow in their papa's footsteps was a horrifying thought.

"Galina was homesick. She wanted to go back to Russia and I wanted to stay here. My mother's family here has far more influence here than my father's family has in Russia. She didn't share the same vision I did."

"To be a mindless follower of a madman? I have to say that I'm going to agree with your ex-wife on this."

"I don't have the energy to explain it to you nor do you have the necessary brainpower to understand if I tried."

Hermione couldn't ignore her childish urge to roll her eyes. So much about the obnoxious wizard got on her nerves. If he wanted to comfort himself with delusions of why he chose to become a Death Eater, fine. That was his decision. She would never agree with him that he made the right choice. Any decision that paired him up with the frightening Antonin Dolohov to torture and murder Muggles wasn't a good one.

"What are you going to do about Pasha?"

"Avoid him as much as possible."

"That's going to be difficult if you stay here any length of time. Pasha is a frequent visitor."

"Oh? Late at night when he's been drinking?"

She didn't appreciate the man's tactless insinuations. What did it matter when or why her friend came over to her home to visit? It wasn't any of Igor's business even if Pasha was technically his son.

"Pasha and I have only ever been just friends."

Why she felt the urge to make that known wasn't clear to Hermione. She thought Pasha was attractive, even thought a couple of times it might be fun to be more than just friends, but something always stopped her from letting it get too far. Maybe subconsciously she knew he had a nutter for a father and didn't want to risk having to deal with his family insanity her whole life.

"You can't hide from him forever. First of all, the two of you look a lot alike. I never realized it until you were standing across from each other. He's likely seen pictures of you from when you were younger."

"Yes, he does and yes, he has, but who would just immediately jump to the conclusion that their father was back from the dead after fourteen years? No one. He might find it strange now similar we look, but he's not insane. He would be more like Mr. Weasley if he heard the truth. He'd think it was all an elaborate hoax."

Unfortunately, there was some truth in what he said. When she went to George's flat that morning to explain, she never would've imagined he would slam the door in her face. Never before had he had any reason to doubt her, but the more she could step back from the situation and think objectively, the more she could see how insane her current predicament was. At some point in the near future, she was going to have to have an uncomfortable conversation with her best friend. She thought it best to give George a day or two to calm down first.

"So hiding in my flat is your current plan?"

"Until I can come up with a better one."

Igor laid back down on the sofa, stretching his long legs across the entire piece of furniture. Releasing another deep sigh, he was driving her insane. She just knew she couldn't handle him much longer without committing actual murder. The moment her cantankerous cat who seemed to hate everyone jumped up on the sofa to then settle on Igor's chest with a satisfied purr the second the wizard started scratching him behind the ears, she feared she was already beyond saving. When did that happen? Crookshanks hated everyone, except her and only on days she fed him promptly.

"I… I don't have the energy for any of this. I'm going back to bed."

Hermione retreated to the security of her bedroom. Despite feeling much better thanks to Igor's hangover potion, she'd found the whole morning exhausting. All she wanted to do was crawl under her blankets, pull them over her head, and try again later.

Somehow Hermione managed to avoid Igor for the rest of the day Saturday even in the small flat. After emerging from her bedroom following a long nap, she found the door to the spare bedroom shut and no sign of her houseguest. If he was even inside the flat she neither knew nor cared.

She took her time getting up on Sunday. There was no reason to rush. That's what the weekdays were for. Most weeks she worked such long hours she used her time off on the weekend to sleep as much as she wanted. The clock almost read noon before she left her room.

Again the door to the spare room was closed and there was no hint Igor was there. Maybe she would get lucky and find out he disappeared into the night never to be found again. The loss of the galleons he stole was a small price to pay for her life returning to normal. Never again would she buy anything from Borgin and Burkes. The thought of bringing another frustrating wizard back to life was too much.

Searching through her cupboard for something to fill her rumbling stomach, she found a bottle of Ogden's Finest fire whiskey that she'd been saving to give George as gift for his birthday. Deciding that maybe it would make a better peace offering, she pulled it down. Waiting too long to have the necessary conversation would only make it worse. She wanted desperately to pretend he never showed up at her flat late at night after he'd been drinking or how he admitted in his own way the next morning that he wanted to date her, but she couldn't. It wasn't fair to either of them.

Once she ate a sandwich quickly to keep her stomach quiet, she forced herself to leave her flat with the bottle. Never had the short walk down the corridor seemed to take so long. What would happen when she knocked on George's door? Would he slam it in her face again or worse, pretend like nothing was wrong?

She hadn't even figured out what she was going to say or even worked up the courage to knock when the front door was pulled open. George was ready for her. Had she been louder than she realized? He stepped back to silently invite her inside.

"Here."

She pushed the bottle of fire whiskey in his hand. Immediately he looked at her with a bemused expression and she wished she'd come empty-handed.

"Aren't you concerned I'll be just another strange wizard who likes to drop by your flat drunk in the middle of the night?"

If it was possible, she hated Igor even more than she already did. Being obnoxious and mean to her was one thing. Hurting George was another thing entirely. Feeling her cheeks burning with shame, she couldn't even look at them.

"Igor is an arse. I'm so sorry that…"

"Maybe he is but he wasn't exactly wrong was he? I did show up drunk in the middle of the night."

"George…"

She turned around, daring to meet his eyes. Much calmer than he was the day before, she thought it possible that the time away helped him think. She certainly spent a good deal of the previous day and night thinking about him. It would be so much easier if she could just love him. They were best friends. Most wonderful long-lasting relationships began that way.

How could she proceed with the rest of the conversation? If their discussion went the wrong way, it could easily end their friendship or at the very least taint it forever. She loved George. Perhaps not in the way he might have convinced himself he wished she did, but she cared more about him than nearly everyone in the world. Never would she want to lose what they already had. Until he showed up at her flat drunk and the embarrassing aftermath the next morning, she could tell him anything without fear of judgment. Everything changed when she could no longer ignore his feelings for her.

"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable just showing up like that. I still don't know why I did it or even what I would've said or done if you'd been alone."

George shrugged his shoulders and tried to smile like everything was all right, but he couldn't. The smile fell flat the moment he tried. Exhaling deeply, he gestured to his sofa to invite her to sit down. He chose to sit on the opposite end when she sat down as far as away as possible. It might've hurt her feelings that he didn't want to be near her even just days earlier, but she understood. He was trying to protect himself from getting hurt any more than he already was.

"And I'm also sorry that I thought you made up that ridiculous story about Karkaroff. The more I've thought about it since yesterday morning the more I realize how wrong it was of me to slam the door in your face."

"No, it's all right. It's understandable. I'm not sure I would believe you at first if you were the one to tell me the same story. It's mad."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them that nearly made her cry. They had always been able to talk no matter what the circumstances. Already it seemed that her hopes for no changes to their friendship was a fantasy. He stepped over the line that she knew subconsciously he'd been approaching for a long time. It was impossible to go back.

"So be honest with me, Hermione. Be my best friend and don't lie to me when I ask you a very awkward, difficult question."

"George…"

"If I told you I had feelings for you and wanted to be more than just friends before I lost my chance to Karkaroff, would you..?"

"What do you mean 'lost my chance to Karkaroff'? There's nothing going on between us."

George's smile was tinged with sadness that might have hurt her even more if she wasn't stuck on what he said about Igor. What 'chance' had she given the horrible man? Clearly she'd misrepresented their relationship, no, their acquaintance.

"There is so much going on between the two of you that I'm amazed you think you can keep lying to yourself."

"No, you're wrong, George. I hate him."

He shrugged his shoulders and some of the sadness left his smile.

"The opposite of love isn't hate. There's a very thin line between…"

"Do you have any other exhausted, trite cliches? Or is that it?"

"No, but I think my point has been made. Maybe you don't love him now, but you will and probably sooner than you expect."

For several long moments she stared at the the wizard in complete shock. Had he finally gone round the bend? He was speaking utter nonsense. She would rather be boiled alive in hot tar than fall in love with that horrible man. How could she have possibly given him the impression that there was something meaningful beyond mutual loathing and disgust between them? Was he that blind because he was disappointed to know that she hadn't chosen him?

"You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm serious. The two of you might think you hate each other now, but it won't be long before you see what's really there. I can't compete with that."

"George, love, did you fall and hit your head this morning? Should I call for a Healer? You're not making any sense."

He chuckled, but there was some lingering sadness in there that she hated to hear. All she wanted to do was go back to the time before she ever found the ring. Everyone would've been happier that way. Igor wouldn't be wandering around her flat lamenting the fact that he wasn't still dead. George wouldn't have been embarrassed and heartbroken. She wouldn't be so frustrated. All of her problems began the second she entered that damn shop in Knockturn Alley.

"No, I'm fine. This ring of his sounds like it's pretty powerful. It would have to be to bring him back from the dead, right? Magic like that is special. Just anyone can't do it. I held the ring and even looked at the inscription on the back. Not once was I tempted to recite the incantation out loud."

"Then maybe you aren't as reckless as I am."

There was a little more joy and cheek in his grin, much more like his usual self. She was glad to see it. Maybe all wasn't lost. They could get back to being friends again.

"True. I've never climbed on the back of a dragon or killed a werewolf in battle. You are definitely the more reckless of the two of us, but I think there's something special about that ugly ring. You were supposed to find it, Hermione. I think it's obvious why."

She wanted to argue with him that he was just making it all up, but she didn't have the heart to. Especially since a part of her did wonder if there wasn't more to the whole situation than she was willing to consider. Could George see what she hadn't seen simply because she refused to? It wouldn't be the first time.

"Maybe I was, but I'm not so sure the reason for that is obvious."

"All right. But you never did answer my question."

Of course he wouldn't just let her move on without saying the words out loud. Fighting back the urge to sigh a heavy, frustrated sigh, Hermione tried to give him an encouraging smile.

"George, I love you. I've always loved you…"

"But you've never wanted to be anything more than just my friend."

There was a tiny hint of bitterness in his tone she knew he tried to disguise. It hurt her to know that she was causing him pain. In a perfect world she would've fallen madly in love with him the same week she moved into her flat and they could've lived happily ever after. Unfortunately, that wasn't what happened.

"George, I…"

"No, it's okay. You've answered me. I think I already knew the answer which is why I never brought it up before."

"I'm…"

"If you say you're sorry, I'll hate you forever."

Some of the humor she was used to hearing in his voice returned. The smile he gave her was a little more relaxed, a little more genuine. Perhaps it would take some time for him to move on from his hurt feelings, but it looked as if he might.

"All right. I won't apologize."

"Good because there's no need."

Feeling like they had reached the end of the conversation, Hermione stood up from the sofa. Likely it wouldn't be the last time that the uncomfortable topic of discussion was brought up between them, but for the moment, she would take her exit. At least the visit to his flat went better than she expected it to, even if the wizard was just a little bit delusional about what her feelings for Igor were.

There was no reason to linger long in his flat. After wishing him a good day, she hurried out into the corridor before something else could be brought up she knew she didn't want to talk about. Unsure how she was going to spend the rest of her Sunday, she was glad that she was able to clear the air between her and George. She had her hand on the doorknob of her front door when she heard the flat across the corridor open.

"Hermione, could I show you something?"

Hearing Pasha's voice behind her, she suddenly felt dread. Never had she felt that way when she heard him speak. Turning carefully around, she was struck again by how much he resembled his father when she saw his face. It wasn't obvious years earlier when they met at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament because stress had aged Igor far more than his vanity wished to admit.

"Hello, Pasha. What would you like to show me?"

He pushed a photograph into her hand. Immediately she thought she was going to be sick. In it, a young Igor held a small boy in his arms that could only be a very young Pasha. Both wizards were smiling. Clearly it had been taken before the nasty divorce between his parents after his father's arrest. The gold ring that started the entire mess she was in showed prominent in the middle of the photograph on Igor's finger.

"I think we should have a long talk."

Pasha held open the door to his flat, not giving Hermione the chance to run away.