Chapter Ten
Only the sound of the metal pot spinning around in circles on the floor could be heard in the kitchen. Tense and more than a little uncomfortable, the room felt too small, too crowded for three people. As the pot made its final spin and stopped abruptly, the silence was jarring. No one knew what to say or seemed eager to be the first one to speak. Usually Hermione was quite capable and willing to fill up awkward silences with inane chatter, but it felt wrong in that particular moment. She was an outsider, an intruder on what was an emotional reunion.
Igor and Pasha just stared at each other across the room waiting for the other to be brave enough to say something, anything. How many years had gone by since they were last in each other's presence? Nearly a year at least before the father's painful murder. Were they struggling to find something to talk about or was there just so much they didn't know where to begin? Regardless, she knew that her presence wasn't helping matters along. They couldn't speak freely with her in the room watching the spectacle.
"If you will both excuse me, I should take a shower."
Neither of them rushed to beg her to stay or assured her she didn't have to leave. Unable to stand the tension for another second she all but ran out of the room towards the flat's only bathroom. Before she was able to close the door behind her, she could hear them speaking Russian in soft tones. She would consider it a small victory that they didn't immediately start screaming or resort to dueling. Though she didn't know much about their shared past, she knew enough to know that their first conversation would never be easy. How could it be? How often did a person come back from the dead after all?
It might not have been her place to remain inside the kitchen during their reunion, but she couldn't deny she was incredibly curious about what was happening. Translation spells were relatively easy or so she thought she remembered from the summer she spent hopping from country to country on the continent during the long holiday she gifted herself after leaving Hogwarts. At the very least she was positive there was a book somewhere in her flat that would remind her of the correct incantation. Combine that spell with a pair of the Weasley twins' Extendable Ears she had, it wouldn't take much effort to eavesdrop on their conversation and learn for herself what they were saying.
Of course once she considered opening the closed bathroom door to look for the book she needed, she knew it was wrong. Curiosity had gotten her into trouble a number of times in the past. She should've learned by then that it was usually best to mind her own business. If either of the wizards wished to share with her highlights of their private discussion, they should be the ones making that decision. Privacy had sadly become something of a luxury in modern days. If the roles were reversed and she somehow had the opportunity to speak privately with her own parents, she wouldn't appreciate either of them listening in.
To distract herself from making the wrong choice, Hermione turned the taps on in the shower. If she could keep herself busy she would be less likely to eavesdrop. She took her time in the shower, lingering under the spray of hot water longer than she usually did. Just when she was sure her skin was going to shrivel up and wrinkle, she stepped out. The voices were a little louder from the other side of the flat as she toweled off. Worried it had become heated, she relaxed when she heard them both laugh. Progress was clearly being made.
Back inside her bedroom she dressed in clean, comfortable clothes. Sundays were usually the one day a week she allowed herself to be truly relaxed and even a little lazy. It was supposed to be a day of rest after all. Her mother was far stronger in her personal faith than her daughter but there were some habits and traditions that were hard to break. Still hearing the two men talking once she was dressed, she killed more time by drying and styling her hair. Magic made the tedious task a little more bearable. If she had to rely on solely Muggle means on her hair, it would remain up most of the time.
Nearly an entire hour passed before she heard the sound of the flat's front door opening. Practically leaping off her bed where she'd been struggling to keep her interest long enough to read a book, she cracked the bedroom just enough to see the two men embrace. She couldn't help but smile. Evidently their talk had gone well. As much as she didn't like Igor, she loved Pasha. If he had the opportunity to have a better relationship with his father, he deserved it. She only wanted him to be happy.
Waiting until she could see the door shut behind Pasha, Hermione didn't merge from the bedroom until she and Igor were alone again. If she didn't stop him, he might very well disappear into the spare bedroom for the rest of the weekend. He'd been avoiding her and while that wasn't all that terrible, she actually wanted to have a real conversation with him. She would likely come to regret that decision.
Igor met her eyes when she fully exited her bedroom. The smile that had been on his face when he said farewell to his son disappeared, but he didn't say anything. Instead of running to hide like she thought he might, he sat down in the middle of her sofa. She took a seat next to him, resisting the urge to push him to speak. Instinctively, Hermione knew he was the sort of person to shut down and run off if he felt too much pressure. If patience was what was required to get him to speak, she would do whatever was necessary.
They'd only been seated on the sofa for a matter of a few moments when Crookshanks hopped up between them. Most days her cantankerous cat slept happily in his basket next to the fireplace letting the world go by around him. Jumping up onto the furniture wasn't as easy for him as it had been in his younger years. Aged joints made him choosy about the times that he chose to be more active. All but ignoring Hermione for Igor, the cat turned his back on his owner to start rubbing his head on Igor with a loud purr. It was strange behavior. Crookshanks seemed to be old friends with her unwanted houseguest.
"When did that happen? He doesn't like anyone."
"Maybe he's never liked anyone you brought home before because you have dreadful taste in men."
Hermione might have rolled her eyes and sighed in a terribly dramatic fashion, but she knew she couldn't really argue with the horrible man's statement. Some of her past dating choices had been indeed questionable. It was embarrassing to admit that she had gone through some phases where she was attracted to less than ideal men or simply too lonely to care. Of course Igor didn't need to know about any of that. It was none of his business. Besides, she didn't want him to know that he was right. That would only make him happy, something she didn't want at all.
"Pasha said he figured it out and you aren't to blame for telling him I'm alive."
It was a relief that he didn't seem to want to delay talking about what just happened any longer. She wasn't sure that her curious nature would allow her to wait much longer before demanding answers no matter how hard she tried. Perhaps he was intelligent enough to know life would be easier if he just got it out of the way at once. Eventually she would start to badger him for details. It was only natural.
"Good. Yes, he figured it out himself. He's smart."
"I know that."
Igor was rudely defensive in his retort. More so than usual even. Almost immediately he recognized there was no need to be so short. His shoulders sagged with another heavy sigh. Did the man do nothing else? She had to bite her tongue before making some snarky remark that would only make them both irritable and likely end the conversation before it even began. Based on his softened facial expressions and his inability to look her in the eye, she hoped he felt some guilt over how he treated his son in the past. It had been uncalled for no matter how much he thought he was simply doing it for Pasha's own good.
"So my son believes you and I are soulmates."
Hearing the words come out of his mouth was disturbing. It was a bad enough theory when Pasha was the only one telling her, but hearing Igor say it was infinitely worse. Why did her friend have to share every theory he had about his father's return? It was all insane and ridiculous to imagine that there was any truth to his thoughts. What horrible comments was the awful wizard going to make about her being his soulmate? She could only imagine.
Daring to look across the sofa at Igor, she was surprised to see the corner of his mouth twitch like he was on the verge of laughing. Perhaps he didn't have anything nasty to say. It was all too much of a joke to be taken seriously. She wanted to laugh too. When he looked up to meet her eyes, neither one of them could contain their chuckles for another second. Neither one of them believed it was possible. Annoyed and perhaps even a little offended at their loud laughter, Crookshanks hopped back to the floor with a disgusted expression on his squashed face. Refusing to go to his basket, he instead crossed the flat to enter the spare bedroom to try to find some quiet. His reaction only made the two of them laugh harder.
Part of her had to admit that it was a little bit enjoyable to be able to share in amusement with Igor instead of just at the other's expense. There had been some laughs in the flat since he was brought back from the dead days earlier, but not a single one of them had any real joy behind it. Some of them were even downright nasty. It was trite and cliche to say that laughter was the best medicine. She couldn't deny, however, that it helped to calm them both down. When they were able to breathe again and the flat was quiet just like the cat liked it once more, she knew that at least a small barrier between them had been broken. Maybe they could even have a real discussion without being hateful and mean to each other.
"I take it you don't believe in soulmates then, Igor?"
"Of course not. It's all fantasy cooked up by lonely romantics unsatisfied with their lives. How anyone can fall for that nonsense is beyond me. Please tell me you aren't one of those sad souls. I thought you were smarter than that."
"Somewhere in there I think there was a compliment."
He scoffed, but it was friendlier than the others had been in their previous conversations. A grin returned to his face. Hermione thought it was a vast improvement on his stormy countenance when he smiled. He should do more of it and then he wouldn't look so miserable.
"No, I don't actually believe in soulmates either. I can honestly say that you and I agree completely on that topic. Pasha is far more of a romantic than I am."
"He gets that from his mother. She was a very sweet girl when we were young, but her head was always full of fantastical ideas that had little basis in reality. I blame her parents indulging her with every book she could get her hands on."
"Ahh, yes, because books are dangerous for women to read. We must keep them ignorant and pliable in the kitchens, mustn't we?"
Igor's wistful grin was replaced with an annoyed scowl. He was back to looking like she was used to seeing him.
"I happen to think that education is important for everyone, Miss Granger. Long before I was a Headmaster and even a potions professor, I thought that all witches and wizards should have the same opportunities. I've never been one to think witches are less important. Never."
The sheer passion she could hear in his voice was proof enough for her that he was telling the truth. She didn't actually believe he was that sort even when she was accusing him. Why she said it, she didn't really know. Maybe she just liked riling him up. It seemed entirely possible.
"Galya , Galina, would've been better suited reading books about Herbology or Charms or even the History of Magic instead of the ridiculous novels she preferred. She was never dumb by any means, but she did seem to waste a lot of her time fantasizing about handsome knights and dragons when she could've been improving her magic or her test scores. Her parents were never firm with her on her studies and that was a trait that she unfortunately inherited. I felt like I had to be twice as hard on Pasha to get him to focus. I didn't want him to waste his talents and end up regretting his choices later in life."
"All right. Fair enough. Stop calling me Miss Granger, Karkaroff."
A hint of his earlier smile returned to his mouth. Tempted to smile herself, Hermione resisted the urge and rolled her eyes again. It would likely be best for both of them if they changed the subject. Thankfully, Igor was of the same opinion.
"Pasha was very intrigued by my ring. That's what gave him the notion that you and I were destined to fall madly in love with each other, Charodeyka. I'll admit that there is some powerful magic within the ring that not just anyone could wield, but the soulmates bit has to be all myth and nonsense."
"Of course it is. Most of the stories surrounding these types of artifacts are indeed just made up legends."
And she firmly believed that too. Except she couldn't help but recall that there were other myths about the ring that did turn out to be true. She felt the pull of the ring's magic and she recited the incantation on the back even when she knew logically that was a foolish decision to make. It did bring Igor back from the dead just as his grandmother claimed it could. She couldn't forget that truth. That was no myth, only fact. If that part was true, could the rest be true too? She hated to admit it, but it wasn't as if she had never made a mistake before and been wrong. As much as she prided herself on her intelligence and thirst for expanded knowledge, there were times, very few in number of course, where she wasn't correct. Could her certainty that soulmates didn't exist be another one of those times?
Hermione caught herself staring at Igor without really meaning to. He was a handsome man in his younger body. Even she couldn't deny that. If she didn't know who he was or spent time with him, she might even have been interested in pursuing a relationship with him. At the very least, she could see herself going to bed with him, especially after seeing him naked. It had been sadly far too long since she had someone in her bed. Too bad he was so bloody obnoxious. He'd probably complain all through sex.
"What?"
Embarrassed that Igor caught her staring, she looked quickly away and cleared her throat. Not even a Cruciatus Curse would get her to answer his question. He didn't need to know the sorts of debauched thoughts that were swirling around in her mind. Unfortunately, the harder she tried not to think about him naked, the more she did. What was wrong with her? Maybe she needed to send a late night owl to her ex-boyfriend. Their relationship might not have worked out, but they'd still been able to enjoy the other's company from time to time when life got too stressful and their beds too empty.
"Was it a surprise to hear your grandmother was still alive?"
She was desperate for any other topic to keep from telling him the truth of her thoughts. Asking about his mother's family seemed like a good idea. Besides, she had been curious. That was no lie.
"Yes, it was. I'm pleased, of course, but for the last twenty years of my life my family assumed we would lose her any day. She's a stubborn woman though. Always has been. She might outlive us all."
"What's her name? You said your mother's family had far more influence and power here than your father's family in Russia. Who is your family?"
"My grandmother's name is Cora Burke Travers. You may have heard of her."
Of course she had. Hermione had never met the witch, but her name was often spoken of in the Ministry of Magic, in hushed voices naturally. Some claimed she used her vast vault in Gringotts to get what she wanted while others claimed she had enough dirt on the more senior officials that bribes were unnecessary. Blackmail was much more effective. Hermione believed it had more to do with her friendships with influential people in their world. Knowing she was the grandmother of a notorious Death Eater, however, made her rethink her previous stance.
"I had no idea you were a member of the Travers family."
"Yes, I am. Despite how angry that fact made other members of my family."
Igor spoke through clenched teeth, evidently upset by past issues with his relatives. Family was rarely easy to deal with. He kept twisting his ugly gold ring around his finger with his other hand. It didn't take much to deduce some, if not all, of his anger was associated with that ring. That was hardly surprising. It had caused her nothing but grief since she uncovered it.
"Who didn't like you being a Travers?"
Damn it all, she was curious. With no real family of her own any longer and the Weasley family's issues no longer interesting her as they used to, she wanted to know about his domestic drama.
"My mother had a younger brother. Completely worthless in my opinion, one I'm sure I wasn't alone in. He had an even more worthless son, my cousin Felix."
Hermione remembered his cousin as the annoying Death Eater they encountered in Diagon Alley during the war who almost ruined their plan to rob the Lestrange vault. If he hadn't been put under the Imperius Curse, a desperate measure for desperate times, he could've discovered what they were trying to do and reported them to the proper authorities or handed them over personally to Voldemort.
"Felix and I have never gotten along. When our grandfather died and his ring was passed down to me, Felix grew to hate me. His father died before Grandfather and he thought that as the last male with the Travers surname, on our particular branch at least, he should be given all of Grandfather's treasured possessions. He wanted the ring more than anything because my idiot uncle filled his head with all sorts of legends about its power. He didn't care that it was given to me in Grandfather's will. He doesn't think I deserve to be considered a member of the family because my name is Karkaroff."
"Travers was one of the Death Eaters that was never caught after the war ended. No one knows what happened to him."
He closed his eyes with another heavy sigh.
"No doubt our grandmother helped him disappear. She always had a soft spot for him and his drunk of a father."
Igor turned to look at Hermione with wide, worried eyes.
"If Felix found out I was alive and had this ring again, he would crawl out from whatever rock he's been under to come claim it."
Some of why Igor hadn't been anxious to let people know he was alive again made sense. Hermione didn't like the sound of his cousin and his grudge. What sort of nightmare had she unwittingly released into her life?
Sunday passed quickly in relative silence after their conversation. Igor hid himself away in the same bedroom and Hermione let him. When Monday arrived and she was able to make her exit to the Ministry for a few hours, she was pleased. After a long day at work, she entered the flat to be nearly assaulted with a foul odor coming from behind his closed door to his room. Was it too much to hope it was the scent of decay?
She knocked on the outside of the door. Only the concern that she might find him naked kept her from just barging in. When the door finally cracked open a few centimeters, the wizard appeared frustrated, like he didn't appreciate being disturbed. Even though the crack was small, it was enough to reveal a full-sized potions station with at least three different cauldrons bubbling.
"Damn it, Igor. Stop stealing from me. What is all of this?"