"A disappointment?!" Ignan exclaimed as if he had been mortally wounded, though with a spot of humour behind his expression.
"Well, I'll simply have to make it up to you when we get back." He squeezed her arm as they headed away from the shop.

To make it easier for them both to walk, he relinquished his arm around her shoulders and instead offered her his arm as they wound their way back.

"The Head Healer of St Mungo's shouldn't be overshadowed by any wizard she chooses to associate with." He assured her, "I only do the ridiculous accent to distract Muggles from the fact I'm not one of them. But, well, we survived."

"Well yes, those muggles are quite terrifying." The healer commented with a small smirk as she linked Ignan's arm and walked with him down the path back towards his neglected and decrepit home. "I was rather convinced that muggle woman was trying to stare me to death." Apparently the scowling muggle hadn't appreciated Miranda's hat or perhaps Ignan's failure to be English. Muggles were strange creatures and Elliot was glad to not be having to associate with them often.

The couple walked a while further when Miranda once more started speaking, evidently starting to feel more at ease with the incapable cook.

"I'd not worry gravely about not being able to cook. I didn't even try until my husband died. I think I gave my daughter food poisoning at least five times in two months. Not the best advert for a healer." They approached the pathway to the house and Mira pushed the small gate open. She wasn't really considering the fact that it was more than likely Ignan knew nothing of her husband.


"I do make some amazing cereal, though. I know just the right amount of milk to add to any quantity. I lived off that and toast in my early twenties. Being a new healer doesn't exactly allow for stable hours or stable meals." The stress had also driven her to drinking and smoking but he'd already witnessed that one.

Ignan was somewhat relieved to discover it really was just Miranda's humour, and he hadn't completely disappointed her that evening. He paused in his stride as she brought up the fact she'd been widowed, and discussion of her daughter. This was a topic of conversation the two of them skirted round with competency.

"I see." He uttered, his eyebrows raised and then blinking away the confusion - of course Miranda would have had former lovers, this was no surprise at their age. He shouldn't be surprised. He wasn't surprised, was he? Well, sometimes one could be a little close-minded in such relations to now think about the possibility.

"Well, at least I'm in good company. Just out of practice. Hrm…" He closed the gate behind them both, the hinges groaning, but at least it was on the hinges. Ignan gestured up the path to the front door where he led them inside, trying to find somewhere to put down the bundles before taking her cloak.

"My dear," he began as he lifted the material from her shoulders and drew it away smoothly, "you've never mentioned your late husband until just then. I hope you didn't think I'd be alarmed that you'd been married?" He asked quietly, looking thoughtful for the moment she turned back.

"As long as it wasn't your cooking that did away with him, of course."

Miranda's cloak was hung with care beside the front door. Although the light was fading it was immediately apparent that Gerda had dispensed entirely with the pie and any sign that they'd attempted to eat it.

Before she’d spoken Miranda had failed to consider the fact that Ignan wouldn’t have known she’d been married. Back in her room at Hogwarts she had asked him about marriage to which he’d replied in the negative. The question hadn’t been turned back on her and she hadn’t wanted it to be. Storm was a wizard she was getting to know in a more intimate manner in the recent weeks and yes the couple had avoided such conversations expertly. Mostly Mira was happy to experience whatever it was they had for what it was, not drawing questions.

So she herself was unsure why she’d brought her late husband into a conversation with her current lover. Fortunately, as Ignan was pointing this lack of previous information out, Miranda’s back was to him. He deftly removed her cloak and she had a moment to deliberate her response. Should she be honest with her reasoning or brush it off coolly as a piece of her past that no longer affected her?

"As long as it wasn't your cooking that did away with him, of course", he added and Mira did finally turn back to face him.
“It was dragons.” Her face was deadpan, calm, keeping any emotion at bay. Her hand removed the dark hat from her head and she placed it on the hook beside the cloak. She next swooped up the parcels of bound fish and chips and turned into the kitchen where he’d previously attempted cooking.

“I’m not in my twenties, Ignan. You shouldn’t be alarmed that you’re not the first wizard to see me naked.” She spoke as she laid the chips on the table and started to unwrap one for herself. Opinions changed when people knew. Some pitied you for what you lost years ago, the poor delicate creature you must be and some people thought it was an all-encompassing explanation for any time you behaved unexpectedly or said something harsh or abrupt. There was a reason the healer didn’t often share her marital status. She could have told him this by sharing her reluctance for people to label her a widow.

“He died nearly fifteen years ago leaving me with a six year old to bring up alone. It’s not a recent event that comes up in conversation.” As the witch explained, she sat in a chair at the table and looked directly up at Ignan, her expression remaining calm. “I’m recently a grandmother as well. Just in case you want to get all the alarm out of the way before we eat.” As if this information meant nothing, Miranda popped a chip in her mouth and eyed up the fish. “Cutlery?”

Mira brushed aside his comments, but her delivery which wasn't directly to his face with her usual edgy humour suggested something more to it. Ignan watched her scoop up the fish and chips while he shouldered off his own coat and settled his top hat down.

He followed her into the kitchen a few paces behind, looking thoughtful as she explained, her hands busy. He leaned his hands on the back of the chair across the table from her and only broke his expression to nod towards the appropriate drawer for cutlery.

"I didn't mean for you to bring it up if it pained you my dear." He spoke quietly, sounding regretful. "It doesn't bother me, and it doesn't surprise me - in a positive light I mean by that." He was still stood as she seized cutlery and was already attacking her second attempt at dinner.

"And I suppose congratulations." He added as an afterthought, blinking and going to search for what remained of the wine, not sure if it would go with the fish.

As he sat down he accidentally nudged Mira beneath the table with a knee, and uttered a polite apology. He was mulling over whether to inform his lover that grandchildren and dead husbands were not in the scale of things he hadn't told her, but decided against it, instead attempting a smile.

"Is it edible?"

Having procured a knife and fork, Mira was cutting into the fish with an eager hunger. Having expected dinner this evening she’d barely eaten at lunch, instead distracted as ever by her work. Her new job didn’t allow much time to break and lunch and this evening’s date had only provided further excuse to skip meals. Now, after the first disaster of Ignan’s cooking, Miranda was quite ravenous and ready to devour her muggle takeaway dinner.

Miranda was, however, distracted from her appetite by Ignan believing he’d offended her in some way or she was feeling sensitive. She glanced up, lips pursed in contemplation. She hadn’t meant to sound pained by anything. So many years had passed now that she was quite matter of fact in accepting her husband was dead. Remembering the event and giving it deep thought did upset her, obviously. Discussing it briefly with the wizard she had recently starting seeing just felt awkward. She didn’t want his opinion of her to change. Miranda rather liked being the heartless hag or the bitch in the Head Healer’s office.

“No congratulations needed.” The witch’s lips twisted into a smirk as she eyed Storm. “The father is a butcher called Bug with a tattoo on his neck. I’m not a proud grandmother.” Miranda was convinced that the young wizard with his unambitious grubby job and scruffy unkempt hair was a form of rebellion from Maya. Her mother hadn’t given her enough attention so she decided to take over the house with a dead end tattooed boyfriend and a crying baby. “I think he’s been in trouble with the ministry as well. Some low level criminal.” She wrinkled her nose and took a bite of fish.

“It’s more edible than pie.” She reached over, picking up the new wineglass and took a gulp. “Next time we’ll eat out.” With the glass placed back down, Miranda leant forward and took his hand in hers. She gave it a squeeze and looked him dead in the eye. “I know you’re a strange one and I'm open to most things but I don’t find food poisoning very conducive to romance.”

When Mira took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, he looked up in surprise, expression soft.
"Good grief, no neither do I." He agreed to her thoughts on food poisoning. "Nor was it my intension. Well, I am glad that dinner is in some sense, saved." He squeezed her hand in return and gave a slight smile, "though it is more the company than the food, that I find important."

He released her hand to allow for them both to eat more efficiently, and nodded in agreement that the food wasn't bad.
"This, grandson-in-law, if he's that," Ignan asked, "What makes you think he's been in trouble with the Ministry? Did you need help persuading him to go elsewhere?" He sliced down his fish to try and remove the bones.

“Grandson-in-law!” Miranda spat out after having nearly choked on her fish. She looked at Ignan in wide eyed surprise while she finished swallowing that bite of fish. “Merlin, Ignan, I’m not that old!” Grandson-in-law… Surely it was the language barrier that had confused him then and it wasn’t his maths skills failing him. Or did he think her a lot older than she was? Had the wrinkles and grey hair become worse recently, aging her prematurely?

However, in essence, his question had been a good one. How did she really presume he’d been in trouble with the ministry? Was she just judging him on the absurd tattoo and foolish name?
“I get that feeling from him.” Because that didn’t sound ridiculous. “It reminds me of ex-azkaban prisoners I’ve treated at the hospital.” Or perhaps the witch was too close to the situation now and searched for every bad thing in the young wizard that had impregnated her daughter and moved into her suitably small house with the mewling baby.

“Grandson-in-law…” She muttered, shaking her head and reaching for more wine. Her unfolded parcel of food was now not far off empty. Once she’d taken a sip, the Healer pushed herself up from the chair and walked to the kitchen window, staring out.
“Have you missed the secret meetings in the castle then?” Mira herself had rather enjoyed the secretive part of their courting so far. A very private person when it came to her life outside of work, she had been very happy not to share the reality of their adapted friendship. Of course, if it developed further and continued, at some point people would find out. She just wanted to keep it between them for the present.

"Ah, no, sorry, son -" Ignan went to correct himself regretfully as Mira snorted at him. He waved a hand to show he felt his mistake could be overlooked, she'd understood who he'd meant.

She explained her feeling about the young man as he carried on eating. It appeared she had no firm evidence, but well, a well-placed question with an auror in the hospital and she'd have her answer. Mira was just being protective over her daughter, no trouble with that.

Her chair scraped back across the flagstones as she went to look out of the window to the back garden that was still somewhat unloved. Ignan's eyes followed her, but he carried on eating, hungry.

"My days have been simplistic, tedious and unexciting;" He agreed to her question, and then glanced up with a smirk, "No different to when you were there…" He chuckled and shook his head.
"Of course I miss them, I've missed you." He picked through what remained of his chips, contemplating if he was still hungry enough to finish them.
"Have you missed them? Do you even have time to miss them though?" He asked, alluding to her demanding job.

"Of course I miss them, I've missed you." Ignan admitted from his seat at the table. The witch had been looking out of the window at the neglected garden with weeds attacking the various vegetable plants. Moulded slab stones were cracked and showing years of mistreatment and carelessness. Having his house in such a state was bad enough, but to have such a wonderful misused and unloved space was not something Miranda was prepared to let him continue with. Gardens could be a source of such wealth if tended to with enough love.

She would have told him exactly this if his words hadn’t distracted her. She turned her head to him, slightly surprised. Such honesty and openness was not something the healer was used to. Even her husband had never said how he’d missed her. He’d just moaned about the hours she worked while she’d moaned about the chances of him being killed. Yet now a man was telling her he’d missed her and it hadn’t been long they’d being seeing one another.

Miranda continued to watch him for a moment. Perhaps it was exactly because of the fact he barely knew her that he missed her. It was new and exciting. When he found out what a cold hearted bitch she could be he’d back off carefully and definitely no longer miss her after a week apart.

“You’ve missed the company of someone who doesn’t hide when they hear you coming.” Having decided to twist the conversation back onto the wizard, Miranda comfortably turned her body back around, resting against the counter as she cradled the wineglass. “You can be quite intimidating, Professor Storm. Or so I hear.”

"Really? I had no idea. Were they thinking of you when they said that?" Ignan replied, looking rather docile at that moment, sat at his kitchen table, poking at thick chip-shop chips amongst paper with a fork. His white hair had become whispy just above his ears where his top hat had sat while they were out.

Electing he'd had enough potato for one day if not several, he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, coming round the table, almost appearing to approach Mira before he sidestepped to rinse his hands under water in the sink, and dry them on a tea-towel Gerda had hung close by.

"There are some who don't hide when they hear me coming, but I really wish they would." He told the witch who leant against the counter, cradling her glass of wine and watching him critically. "And then," he reached out gently and curled his fingers around her elbows, closing the gap between them, "there are those who I wish would cross my path more often."

Just as it seemed he might consider initiating a kiss or some sort of affectionate touch due to their close proximity, his eyes glanced over her head to where she had been looking moments before from the kitchen window.
 
"Were you admiring the hideous state of the garden?" He asked, "I've been too preoccupied with repairing the building since I bought the place to consider it yet." One hand dropped to her waist, resting on her hip. He adored her figure, despite her occasional jibes about their age. When they were alone like this, his mind did wander to thoughts of taking her upstairs to lie in each other's arms and forget about the disastrous dinner.

“You’ve got your work cut out.” With so much to be done in the house and garden and the wizard planning to tackle it during his summer holiday, Miranda anticipated that it wouldn’t be a relaxing summer for him. If she hadn’t have been employed as the Head Healer and had instead remained with Durmstrang, her own plan would have been to escape any sort of work and travel for a month. The long and generous holidays had been the only element of being a professor that Miranda had favoured. The rest was for witches and wizards with a liking of or patience with children.

With Ignan suddenly so close Miranda lifted her spare hand and pushed her darkly rimmed glasses up onto her head, brushing some wavy hair back with it and highlighting some the grey strands that were starting to creep through near the front. She would need to do something soon. Grey wasn’t becoming before reaching even fifty.

Another sip was taken from the wineglass before the healer placed it down on the surface beside her and instead wrapped her arms around Ignan’s neck, still leaning back against the counter but pulling him in closer.

“I can do the garden for you.” Even with her heels, Miranda still stood a fair amount shorter than Storm towering just above six foot. Yet she liked that. A witch as bossy and hard as her appreciated the close company of a wizard stronger and larger. Her husband had been big, built to train dragons and get himself into a fair amount of trouble with ne'er do wells. Storm was powerful. He was not the sort of wizard you would wish to cross wands with.

“If you help me out.” Her eyes met his and as if sensing a looming question, Miranda continued. “I can’t remember a shred of defensive magic.” She tried to ignore the foolish feeling telling the DADA teacher she had often shared a bed with. In reality she’d never been able to do it well but it was probably best he believed something was already there for the moment. Her fingers unlaced from behind his neck and her hands travelled towards his shoulders. “I perform miracles on your garden and you refresh, at the very least, my body bind hex.” She didn’t want another bite mark or worse any time soon.

"Somewhat, yes, but it'll be worth it." He agreed with Mira's comment about how much work it would require. She pushed up her glasses and he glanced down, smiling ever so slightly at the way their removal lessened the severity of her features. Her arms around his neck pulled him closer, and he let his hands find their way around the back of her waist, eyes finally leaving the garden and paying her full attention. The pull towards her was effectively ensuring his body pinned hers against the kitchen cupboards, and as long as she enjoyed such, he was happy to oblige.

"I can do the garden for you."
"Really?" His tone wasn't amazement or at all patronising, but genuine pleasant surprise at her offer. He hadn't any particular interest in cultivating a garden, so the garden wasn't his priority. As long as it was presentable, and if Gerda felt like keeping it for herbs and vegetables, he would gladly let her. However, if Mira wanted to claim it her own.

But here came the terms of the deal, which sounded, potentially to be far too easy. Then again, they suggested you didn't teach family and friends - they felt the need to answer back, and the boundaries were muddied. 
"I'll refresh more than that." He smiled gently, leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek by her ear, enjoying being close to her after a week apart, breathing in her perfume.
"If you're going to perform miracles on the brambles out there, I'll teach you how to selectively bind, knock an unruly patient out without uttering a word, and make a man beg for mercy." He lifted his head up and looked her in the eye, "though I trust you'll put me back together again?"

"I thought I could already do that." Miranda's dark eyes eagerly flicked between Ignan's. It was fortunate he'd agreed to help her. If he'd have known her present skill level in defensive magic, she bet he wouldn't have been so accommodating. Therefore finding out exactly her level would be a new surprise for him and certainly not one for this evening while he was presently pressing her into the kitchen counter.

"You don't need a wand for that, Ignan." She bit her lip for a moment, hands moving down to his chest. "The mercy part".

The close proximity of the couple was something Elliot was still not used to. While they'd grown close over the passing month before her leaving the castle, Ignan Storm was still unfamiliar territory. Mira still didn't know how he'd react to her touch, she didn't know his likes and dislikes, his preferences, his little habits. The uncertainty and newness, while making her heart skip a beat in his presence due to nerves, was exciting and fresh.

"But the putting back together?" Miranda moved in closer, their lips centimetres apart. Her hips pushed against him as her lips pressed into his, parting into a hungry kiss. She pushed him back, stepping towards the kitchen table and she spoke against his lips,  "I'm an expert".

Fin