Ignan's head tilted back as she went to the trouble of theatrics and he let out a regretful sigh. Bollocks.

"Mira, oh for Merlin's sake-." His protests didn't seem to be doing the trick, she had her back to him, grasping her cloak back from the stand she had only just hung it on.

His wand came to his hand before he'd really considered it, and the door's lock rattled, locking. The classroom door beyond it was locked earlier, but hadn't seen the need to lock that door down to his classroom. He got to his feet behind his desk, wand still in hand.

"Mira!" He addressed her a little more sharply, regretting it immediately. "Stop. Please." He extended his left hand, palm towards her, mirroring his words, and held back on using magic again.

"Don't go - let me explain. Mira - I just - I love you. And I can't - oh, f.." he swore under his breath, deciding against going on. It was futile. His shoulders dropped, and the lock on the door clicked open again. Wand in one hand, the other a fist, he stared down at his desk, trying to steady his breathing, trying so very hard not to argue, or to raise his wand in anger.

There was something about the way he felt about Mira that brought up old feelings, stirred an anger he kept quelled, a different anger to the one he unleashed on disobedient students. It was an ugly, possessive anger, and Mira had seen it. It was best to let her go, even if he wondered if that would be the end of it.

Before she knew it she heard the sound of the lock clicking into place and her head shot around to look at him, eyes alert. She knew there was nothing to worry about but felt angrier that his first reaction had been to lock the door. What she’d seen from him this evening she hadn’t liked. Park of her regretted coming with the intention of winding him up. Sometimes her need to play people came back and bit her. But when else wouldn’t she have had these doubts placed in her mind? Why hadn’t she, the head healer, the skilled legilimens, not seen or sensed his feelings before?

“Don't go - let me explain. Mira - I just - I love you. And I can't - oh, f..” Three words caused some of the anger to fade. Miranda stood frozen, facing the wizard who’d just said something she’d never expected to hear on the back of his anger. Was she using it as an excuse for his attitude about Glass? Did he mean it?

Her mouth opened to respond, “I…” but all she could do was shake her head. She turned again and stepped towards the door. It was pulled open and she stopped in the doorway. It felt as if a minute passed although it may only have been a few seconds before she turned back to him.

“I don’t want someone to love me, Ignan.” She finally responded, starting to walk over to him. Her voice still held an edge of her anger, irritation and now confusion. “I want someone that hasn’t got the gall to speak to me like one of his bloody students. I’m the blasted Head Healer of St Mungo’s, not some whinging 3rd year that didn’t do their homework for you.”

When she pulled open the door, he looked up, expecting to see her walk from there, but she stopped, looking down on the classroom below.

He took a step out from behind his desk, sliding his wand away, giving her space, giving himself time to count to ten, let his conscience give himself a firm talking to. Properly blown it now. He thought to himself, not sure what he could do to take that unexpected spat back.

Turning to face him again, Mira took steps back into his office, and he looked up, started.
"I don't want someone to love me, Ignan. I want someone that hasn't got the gall to speak to me like one of his bloody students."

She was right of course and he didn't meet her eyes as she delivered the telling off, but watched her out of narrowed eyes, gaze lowered. He wanted to have the upper hand in this argument, but for the sake of their relationship, he was getting the impression the woman is always right rang true. 

"I'm the blasted Head Healer of St Mungo's, not some whinging 3rd year that didn't do their homework for you."

"I know." He managed in return, which wasn't his most eloquent by any stretch of the imagination. He felt like the whinging third year now. "But you can't come and make jokes about-." He told her in a quieter voice, glancing up. "It's not funny." He gave a shrug, and slid his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, still not meeting her eye to eye, incredibly uncomfortable about the stand-off. As such, he turned away, and let out a long sigh.

"I didn't want to pick a fight, Mira. It was a good surprise to find you here." His tone was flat, and he continued to avoid her eyes as he made a slow walk back behind his desk and round to the other side, passing the bottle of whiskey and their glasses. He raised his eyes reproachfully as he approached the visitor's chair in the middle of the empty floor.

"Why did you come here, tonight?" He asked.

His question made Miranda pause. Telling him the truth would show him she was the cruel witch who’d come to try and get a rise out of him only to not like the rise she prompted. Unfortunately he’d see straight through a lie because her lying was just about as good as her defensive magic. She needed to turn the heat back on him. He even looked guilty, refusing to make eye contact. He knew he’d reacted ridiculously.

“It doesn’t matter why I came, Ignan.” She needed another drink to calm down. He’d spoken to her like a child, said he loved her. How could she process this? Moving towards the desk, Miranda picked up the bottle of whiskey, her usually steady healer’s hand shaking as she poured it into her tumbler. The glass chinked against the bottle as her hand shook and she placed it back on the table.

Glass grasped between her fingers now, Mira leaned back against the desk, watching Ignan. She hoped to avoid the question. What was plaguing her more were those three unexpected and hard hitting words.
“And you don’t love me. Merlin, you barely know me. I barely know you. I don’t even know what you did before you came to Scotland. And do you know what? I’ve never wanted to know because I don’t want that…” She took a breath and a large gulp of alcohol. “Merlin’s balls.”

Ignan could hear the bottle and the glass meet with a chink as Mira poured herself another drink. It wouldn't do to have her drunk at Hogwarts, and the alcohol undoubtedly wasn't helping their discussion. It was loosening tongues, but decreasing rationality.

She leaned back against his desk, and he watched her, thinking it odd that she didn't clarify her purpose for visiting. Mira wasn't spontaneous, she wouldn't have visited because she missed him. She'd have sent one of her incomprehensible owls.

".. don't love me. Merlin you barely know me. I barely know you…"

It was true that one could share a bed with another and not even remember their name in the morning.
"I don't even know what you did before you came to Scotland…"

"You know what I did." Ignan spoke in a calmer voice, confused, "I taught at Durmstrang." She was acting very oddly indeed.

"The last thing I want to go into right now is my interpretation of 'love' or affection, but it's how I quantify my just reaction for you coming here with your souvenir to tell me about your day with a man I detest." He slipped a hand out of his pocket to gesture to the bottle on his desk and shot Mira a look with eyebrows raised. She hadn't come to wind him up, had she? If she had, she'd more than succeeded.

Storm had no plans to abandon his question now the thought had crossed his mind. He already knew her answer, his eyes said it. The guilty refusal to make eye contact with her had ceased and now he was once more gesturing at the small vial with an eyebrow raised in expectation. The Deputy Headmaster knew his companion liked to read and play people. He’d known that from the first lesson they’d taught together last year. But had he expected she would try it on him when they got closer?

So yes, she had been cruel in her intentions. He was certainly right that she wasn’t spontaneous. Mira was detailed in her planning and she’d decided to share whatever experience she shared with Glass.

“Okay,” Miranda gave her shoulders a shrug, dark eyes not afraid of watching him carefully. “I’m not a nice person. I came to tell you every sordid detail to see how jealous you are. I like a jealous man.” Her voice was now calm as she’d decided to be honest. He’d have been able to see straight though a lie and Mira rarely tried to hide the fact that she wasn’t particularly nice. People presumed that as a healer you needed to care about people, you needed to be thoughtful and kind. You didn’t get to her position at her age through being everybody’s friend. You got there through ruthlessness and playing people off against each other.

“But I saw something darker than jealousy in you.” And she was very nearly freaking out about those three words he’d come out with. Why had he bothered her so much? Miranda had always sensed something about Ignan. She’d liked that sense of danger, that dominance and those eyes. He held an appeal for a witch who never strayed from the law, who never did anything dangerous or had even bothered to learn how to defend herself under an attack. She’d appreciated the fact he wasn’t looking for a wife or a witch to love and provide for. He’d been undemanding. Until this evening

His suspicion was confirmed. Well, nothing more than he might do, he thought to himself. They both had a weird and slightly twisted sense of humour. It was one of the things that kept him interested in Mira. He valued the fact she'd been honest in the end though, he just wished he'd been able to take more of a joke rather than pick an argument with her.

"But I saw something darker than jealousy in you." Mira stated. Ignan frowned a brief moment at that comment and shuffled his feet.

"I'm not all kittens and pink bows," He replied, and shrugged his shoulders, taking his hands from his pockets and turning to straighten some books on his shelves. "One doesn't command an army of spotty teenagers without asserting oneself." He raised a hand to the side of his head, gestured loosely to his head, "I'm still in the mindset of Deputy Headmaster Storm, sorry Mira." He tried to brush off the fact, though he knew exactly what she meant.

He turned back, managed to muster what counted as a smile for Ignan and held his arms out loosely to either side, offering her a hug, or peace. Whichever she'd prefer.

Was that an apology? Miranda stared at Ignan, lips parted in astonishment. She’d just admitted coming to Hogwarts for the sole purpose of playing him and he had just apologised. Perhaps she was better at messing with people than she’d previously given herself credit for. Or Ignan genuinely felt something for the heartless hag that had made herself at home in his home. Should she ask him to repeat it? Storm certainly hadn’t struck her as the sort to have the word ‘sorry’ buried in even in the deepest recesses of his vocabulary.

He opened his arms, watching the Healer and she pursed her lips together for a short moment. The edges of her lips then twisted, creating a small smirk before she took another sip of the fire whiskey. Her dark eyes studied him carefully, weighing up her thoughts and possibilities. Was she really that horrified by his manner? She’d not left the room when given the chance. Instead she’d stayed to argue, to prove a point.

A couple moments of consideration and Miranda was stepping away from the desk and towards Storm. She lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, looking up at him.

“You’re always in the mindset of Deputy Headmaster Storm.” She stepped in closer, “Just like I’m always a bitch.” She reached up, lips pressing against his for a mere second before she pulled away and stepped back.

Now her expression appeared completely sincere, serious.
“I’m not interested in love, Ignan. I’ve done it.” It needed clarifying before he scared her off. But she didn’t keep looking at him for a response; instead the witch decided that now she did need to leave. She needed to get away and think, to have some space from him. Her hat was summoned from the stand and she finally made her way to the office door.

Had he just apologised? Had he heard himself say that? He was definitely getting soft in his later years. He'd have to go for a walk around the corridors now and issue a dozen detentions to restore the balance.

Perhaps two dozen.

Mira was studying him with a smirk on her face. Did she think she'd won that one? Did she keep score? She probably did.

Either way, he was momentarily rewarded, arms around his neck, which always felt good, even if he didn't want to admit it, and a kiss. Not a long one, brief, well, they weren't ones for lingering. More than he expected to get after their spat.

"I'm not interested in love, Ignan, I've done it." She told him, keeping his full attention with her hands where they were, and then she was off.

"Who said anything about love?" He asked, with a shrug and an innocent look. He shouldn't have, that was for sure.

He followed her to his office door, touched her back lightly after she swung her cloak back on and donned her hat.

"Break into my office again soon won't you?" He asked, corner of his mouth curling.

Letting go, he drew his wand and unlocked the classroom door below them.
"Goodnight Head Healer Elliot." He gave a respectful bow of his head, and watched her take leave. Waiting until she was gone before cursing to himself.