Ignan scowled, though he thought beneath his irritation that she might be winding him up for her own amusement. That would be about right, knock him out and then…

The house elf clattered cups together on the end of the kitchen table between them. It kept stealing sharp glances at Mira like a disapproving mother.
 
"Gerda," He addressed the elf firmly, and it snapped to, ears pricked and eyes wide, awaiting instructions. As house elf masters went, he wasn't overly demanding. Gerda was independent and proactive, and overall kept Ignan tidier than he had ever been in his life. If his students were anything like the elf, he would be a far more pleasant teacher.

"Miranda may smoke in my kitchen." The elf's mouth formed a straight line and she blinked, her fingers knotted before her stomach, taking a moment to confirm the decision with a sullen 'Yes master', before shooting Mira one last scathing glance.

Ignan narrowed his eyes, tapped his fingertips on the kitchen table.He could the elf's sulking expression in the reflection of the kettle on the stove. He chose to ignore it, rolling his eyes slightly as he looked back to Mira the other side of the table, returning to the original topic.

"He did, you're right. I don't own you after all." He gave a shrug and folded the letter about his wages between his long fingers, resting his elbows on the table. He lowered his gaze and added in a slower, more measured tone, "You can, and will, spend your time with whomever you wish." He glanced up at her, "Just be sure to get your money's worth." 

The elf’s continued stern stares and Ignan’s acknowledgment of it made Miranda glance down to her cigarette. Magical and odourless, it was still an unpopular and unsociable habit. Miranda realised that but with the stresses of life and work, she appreciated it. Ignan’s disapproving little elf could scowl all she wished, she was still a houseelf in her master’s house and Miranda was a guest.

But this didn’t stop the healer from pursing her lips while she considered the vice.
“Not the healthiest habit for a healer.” She gave the cigarette a tap and the ashes fell off into the air before vanishing with a quiet sizzle. “I’ve never been an adequate role model.” Her eyes glanced over the wizard across the table but he was too focused on their discussion about Glass and the winning bid.
 Most witches would perhaps have been put off by the small display of jealousy Storm had shown the night before. His cold greeting and attempts to send Glass on his way very nearly resembled a child having to share his toys.

Teacups and a teapot were placed in front of them and Mira’s eyes caught the elf’s gaze for a brief moment before she refocused on Ignan and leaned forward on the table, their faces now no longer far apart.
“Perhaps you would feel more comfortable chaperoning.” The witch’s expression remained calm, serious. “It is very possible he may sweep me off my feet without you there to claim ownership.” Lips now twisted into a smile. “He would be a very valuable ally to have with his highly distinguished status in the ministry. A powerful authority figure.” And he knew how she liked those.

 "… comfortable chaperoning." Ignan's lip curled, defying his straight face at such close proximity. "… powerful authority figure."

"You realise," Ignan replied, folding his arms across the table, and crossing his ankles beneath his chair, closing the gap between their faces by another inch, "that he's just considered a glorified cleaner?" One that he'd lost out on a bid with, irritatingly.
"I'd like to see him try and sweep you off your feet," he told Mira, "I think he might have a stroke trying." He purposely pulled at his own collar as if to indicate Glass carried a few more pounds.

"You sure I can't buy him out?" The Professor asked in a low voice, frown lines appearing between his eyebrows. He glanced from Mira's eyes to her lips, looking as if he might lean over still and reach them, but at the last moment, sat back and reached for the teapot instead.

"Well, who am I to stand in the way. Best owl him now and set a date. Are you keeping the pyjamas? Souvenir of our nights together?" His little smirk across the table was somewhat ruined by Gerda's distant exclamation in the living room at the mess, and he exhaled, irritated, before pouring two cups.

Piercing blue eyes moved closer still, their gaze sharp and meeting Miranda’s own dark ones.  Her words had had their desired effect on the wizard who continued to exhibit a suitably strong dislike for Edwin Glass (Miranda wondered if he truly liked anyone).

"I think he might have a stroke trying." Ignan appeared to have missed the true meaning of Mira’s words and seemed to take her quite literally. She decided not to bring that to point, instead letting him continue.

He glanced at her lips as if he may steal a kiss. Unintentionally Miranda leaned further forward, drawn in by his gaze as usual. There was something very powerful about the way he looked at her, something which had taken the usually cold and unfriendly healer by surprise. She’d never before encountered it.

Yet as if Ignan had read her thoughts, he broke the spell and sat back, deciding instead to pour the tea. Miranda looked down for a moment, giving a small shake of her head and releasing a single quiet laugh. They had already started to play each other.

Purposefully ignoring yet another of the house elf’s interruptions, Mira reached forwards to take a cup, stubbing the cigarette out on the saucer.
“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure he’ll have some of his own to share.” She lifted the teacup to her lips “Stripes are very outdated, Ignan.”

"Then," Ignan replied smoothly, fingers reaching for the other, thicker envelope from Hogwarts, "I'll be sure to buy a silk nightie next time." The corner of his mouth twitched, "Perhaps some stockings…"

He tried to compose his face, but his mind was already picturing Miranda, so he pretended to be very interested in the notes from the governors instead, and raised his cup of tea to his lips to try and prevent himself chuckling.

Setting aside the teacup again, having not read a single word on the folded parchment wad in his hand, he looked back to Mira,
"My problem with Glass, if you must know, is that he's a reputation for going after anything with breasts and two legs. Not that I am suggesting he has poor taste going after you - but he's not worried about who, he's more worried about getting something, you know?" He reached for the milk and added a little more.

"I've never been like that in my life." He told Mira, stirring the tea. "Well, I grew out of it." He stole a glance her way, setting down the spoon, "And you got married.."

Despite herself, Miranda nearly spat her tea out, coughing at the image now burning itself into her mind’s eye. It took a few moments to recover and sit back to look at Ignan staring intently at the hefty letter in his hands.
“You’d need some large stockings.”

“…going after anything with breasts and two legs.” Ignan sharing his opinions on Glass caused Miranda’s eyebrows to rise, vanishing beneath her dark fringe. “ he's more worried about getting something, you know?” It was hard to imagine Glass actually procuring what he apparently searched for. The wizard hadn’t made her feel comfortable and he definitely hadn’t been blessed with attractiveness. He had been too smooth, too happy to bet on a witch he’d only just met. Their day together would be most interesting.

“And you got married..” The smirk Miranda had worn vanished and she took a long gulp of the hot tea.  She certainly didn’t need reminding of abandoning the youthful excitement of dating to marry a wizard who loved his dragons more than her and their daughter.

“And you think I’m something he’d get?” She moved the conversation back, deciding not to acknowledge his suggestion he’d grown out of it. Every wizard liked a pretty witch on their arm and he was no exception.
“Why would I fall into his arms when I have all a witch could want here? Borrowed pyjamas, an elf that scowls at me like a disapproving mother and a grey old fool to give me bad defence lessons.” She grinned and leaned forwards on the table. “I’ve got it made, Iggy.”

"And you think I'm something he'd get?" Mira asked. Ignan cocked his head slightly, as if giving it serious thought. In honesty he didn't know exactly what Glass was looking for, he just knew he had a reputation and wasn't doing much if anything to hide it. To Ignan, it was like rubbing the fact in his face. The Professor hadn't really been on the lookout for a witch, Mira had rather taken him by surprise.

"Why would I fall into his arms when I have all a witch could want here? Borrowed pyjamas, an elf that scowls at me like a disapproving mother and a grey old fool to give me bad defence lessons. I've got it made, Iggy." He only hoped she did. He could tolerate her in his pyjamas more often, certainly, if she could tolerate his absence for academic terms. Possibly the best way to be - out of each other's hair (ah, another thing he had over Glass).

"Hmph, less of the 'bad defence lessons'. I'll have you know I get good results with all my most dedicated students." He gestured with the governor notes at her across the table. "You can have grey. And I'll let old slide." He unfolded the notes again, blue eyes examining the headlines, but he tossed them down. His head was making it hard to even contemplate reading them. More tea, that would sort it, and perhaps, Mira in his arms.

"I suppose, if I can almost poison you with too much salt, and you haven't been put off by me yet, there's a chance Glass won't sweep you off your feet." He shrugged and sipped his tea. "But if he falls for you, he'll be having his own catastrophe."

“You can have grey. And I'll let old slide.” Mira wanted to ask him about ‘fool’ but she bit her tongue and decided against it, instead watching him struggle to focus on the hefty set of notes he’d been delivered that morning. She’d recognised the letter head earlier but made no comment. A workaholic, Miranda spent most of her waking hours at the hospital but she never brought her work home, she never accepted owls from the hospital in her off time. She would, however have been a hypocrite to make comments about his work before him considering any twitch of her badge and she was back at St Mungo’s immediately.

Now Ignan’s dislike of Edwin Glass was starting to amuse Miranda a little too much. She rather liked the idea of his jealousy so much so that while he spoke of the Department head falling for her, Mira was imagining how much she could wind her companion up about the topic.

“But if he falls for you, he'll be having his own catastrophe.” Ignan finished after a sip of hot tea.
“I should like to see that.” Elliot responded quietly as she pushed her seat back and rose to stand on the cold floor. She needed to scrub up and get dressed, perhaps then the lingering grogginess would pass and they could carry on with their day. Alcohol was certainly not a good friend the morning after.

Before leaving the kitchen, Mira stepped around the table to stand behind Ignan where she placed her hands on his shoulders and leant down, lips an inch from his ear.
“I do enjoy a good catastrophe, Professor Storm.” And with that whisper in his ear, her teacup was picked up and she left Ignan alone with his disapproving elf in the kitchen.