“Maya…” Miranda frowned up at her daughter from her position currently sat on the plush rug in the middle of the living room floor. Stood on unsteady legs and gripping her grandmother’s hands tightly was Katrine, Miranda’s one year old granddaughter. For the past half an hour Mira had been trying to coax the little one to take those first vital steps and walk. Maya had walked about this age, an early developer and Mira had simply hoped the same for the youngest generation.

“Ma?” From the doorframe Maya asked. This younger witch was the spitting image of her mother 20 years prior. Her long dark hair fell in messy waves, framing a pale face and dark eyes. When she received a raised eyebrow in return from her mother she nodded. “I know I know I know. We’ll be out of yer hair soon, Ma.” She was rushing about in the hallway, trying to gather things before she needed to be out of the house. Her mother still hadn’t told her why she needed to leave so soon.

Miranda glanced up to the clock on the mantelpiece and looked back to the door.
“It’s five to. You’re running late.” And he would be here soon… With ease of a woman who’d had her own experience with a young child, Miranda grabbed Katrine and rose to her feet, baby balanced on her hip. Katrine started to pull at the sleeve of her dark coloured dress. “Let me help…” Maya would never be gone in time without a hand and the cottage was a mess. Toys littered the living room floor and Maya’s messy touch had taken over the large kitchen.

Unfortunately there was a knock on the door and before Miranda could say anything, she heard the door opening and Maya exclaiming “No wonder she wouldn’t tell me who was visiting. You’re the bloke she’s been staying with, aren’t you? Bit old for ye, ma!” This witch’s Devonshire accent was far stronger than her mother’s.

From the living room, Miranda closed her eyes and counted from one to ten before finally stepping into the hallway to see Ignan stood at the door.
“Don’t make him stand in the door, love.” Dark eyes avoided Ignan as she moved closer to the door and her daughter. “You’ve got everything now?”

“I’m going!” The younger witch grinned at her mother as Miranda moved her attention onto the baby in her arms. She planted a huge kiss on her cheek, only to elicit a squeal and giggle from Katrine. Maya took the baby back and looked at the wizard in the door. She put her hand out for shaking, grinning brightly at him. “I’m the embarrassment of a daughter. Maya Elliot.”

Saturdays were rarely quiet at the school. The students would run tearing through the corridors, up to mischief. It was good to have an excuse to take a little time out from being a resident professor - especially as he'd been in charge while Minerva sat on his cousin's trial in London. They were three days in, and Ignan was already wishing it was over and done so everyone could stop fussing.

Miranda had asked him to come by her own home for once. This was a little odd, considering she'd more or less moved into his home in Godric's Hollow during term, for her own space (and replacing the previous, unreliable house-sitter, Johann).

Mira lived even further out, so it was more of a journey to reach her doorstep, where he stood surveying the size of the place before applying his knuckles to the door of the cottage.

"No wonder she wouldn't tell me who was visiting." The figure behind the now open door looked the spitting image of Mira. No doubt that this was her daughter, Maya, who Mira had mentioned in conversations.

The one with the unsuitable boyfriend.
Just like her mother.

"Bit old for ye, ma!"

"You are every bit your mother's daughter." Ignan replied as graciously as he could, though there was an edge to his voice that he didn't appreciate being called old for Mira. He didn't feel old when he was with her.

Mira appeared, with a child in arms. Ignan tried not to show how startled he felt. He'd never seen Mira at all maternal, he'd always assumed she might be like him. Reluctant. He'd always dodged having to hold small children or look after them, he'd be more likely to petrify them with his wand, but apparently that wasn't the done thing for good parents.

The kiss, the squeal of delight from the small human in Mira's arms all were met with a slight distrust from Ignan who inclined away from it all ever so slightly, as if he hoped he might vanish into the wall and not be seen.

"I'm the embarrassment of a daughter. Maya Elliot." The hand stuck out to him and he gave the slightest of jumps as he was addressed.
"Ignan Storm, bloke your mother's been staying with." He greeted in return, and shook Maya's hand, still eyeing the small human, now in Maya's arms.

"Your mother doesn't consider you an embarrassment. She seemingly reserves that title for me if she didn't tell you I was coming." His eyes slid to Mira with a knowing smirk.

"I'm not early am I?" Ignan asked, knowing damned well he wasn't, but being polite. He hadn't expected to meet Maya at all, and especially not the gurgling one. It didn't sound like anyone else was beyond the door than the two witches, so hopefully the man Mira had mentioned less favourably was not inside.

“You’re the daughter who should have left fifteen minutes ago.” Miranda gave the younger witch a stern look. However, unlike with her staff, the stern look directed at her daughter was softer, more likely to break into a smile. They’d always struggled with their relationship. Miranda had never been a natural mother but she’d always loved Maya and in turn Katrine. These girls and Ignan were possibly the only people that currently got to see the Healer’s soft side.

Katrine buried her head against her mum and Maya smiled warmly at the stern looking wizard.
“Well I wasn’t supposed to be here.” She stepped back into the hallway to let Ignan in and pushed the door shut behind him. Miranda watched, lips pursed. It didn’t look like her darling offspring was making any real more to leave now that her mother’s mysterious man had shown up.

"I'm not early am I?" Ignan queried and Miranda found herself wondering why she had let herself get distracted by getting Katrine to walk. She should have shepparded them out of the door ages ago to avoid this very disaster. Maya, she predicted, was not Ignan’s cup of tea. She was jolly, overfriendly and chatty. Ignan was not.

“Not at all,” He was never early or late. Always on time. “She’s late.” Another pointed glance at the daughter who didn’t seem to be leaving and Miranda gestured down the small hallway into the much brighter kitchen. “A drink?”

She began to lead the way, unfortunately hearing  Maya’s footsteps following.
“She’s a grandma, you know Ignan? Dotes on this one. She likes people to think she’s a bitch but…well, she kind of is…”
Miranda span around to face her daughter. “I think you need to go, darling”
“It’s alright, ma. I think he said he’s running late. I don’t want to drag Katrine out only to be hanging around. Besides, I think she needs to meet her new Step-grandpa officially.”

Miranda wanted the ground to eat her whole.

Mira seemed keen to get rid of Maya, though her tone was less critical towards her own family. His query about the time was met with the practical Miranda, further pointing out to her daughter that she was infringing on time.

He followed Mira towards a bright, cozy kitchen. It was more homely than his own in Godric's Hollow (though Mira's additions to the house had made some considerable improvements to that extent). Maya trailed them, and Ignan tried to keep his expression neutral, which was hard, considering he always looked grumpy.

"She's a grandma, you know Ignan? Dotes on this one." Maya explained, her tone suggesting to the Professor that she was trying to tell tales and stir the pot.
"She has told me, yes." He replied, glancing back to Mira's daughter and granddaughter. His expression darkened as Maya referred to her mother in that way. Mira had done it ten or so days prior in his office at Hogwarts, and however much of a hard taskmaster she was to her staff, or how blunt she was, it wasn't a word he would ever use to describe her.
"… well she kind of is…"
"I think you need to go, darling."
“It’s alright, ma. I think he said he’s running late. I don’t want to drag Katrine out only to be hanging around. Besides, I think she needs to meet her new Step-grandpa officially.”

Ignan gave an audible swallow and averted his eyes.
"Did I propose and forget?" He asked Mira, though it was with a smirk, she'd know he was joking. "Pity we didn't get to meet Katrine's father. I'm sure I'd have enjoyed meeting him too." There was an edge to his voice that suggested something more, and he looked to Maya and managed a 'smile'. That expression was rarely warm on Ignan's features. It was more pity i didn't meet him to check his suitability, or pity I didn't meet him so I could scare the wits out of him for winding up Mira.

"Do you work?" He asked, as if this were the most normal question to ask a relative stranger, though sounding like a disapproving parent instead, "Or does he work?" The women in the Storm family who did have children in their twenties like Maya were either married to well paid, older family members, or returned to work in their professions as soon as possible. His mother had been rather an exception, trailing his father back to Germany from Britain, and only marrying because Ignan was very much on the way.

Maya’s embarrassing display caused Miranda to try zoning out of the conversation. Instead of making a vain attempt at reprimanding her 20 something daughter, she moved further into the kitchen and began to fill the kettle up, placing it on the stove as Ignan mentioned proposing. Well on Merlin’s life, she hoped not!

Maya, meanwhile, ignored her mother’s avoidance of the situation. She eyed Ignan with a new suspicion as he mentioned Bug. A darkness briefly flashed in her eyes and she looked away momentarily. She hadn’t mentioned to Miranda about the issues. Doubtless her mother would gloat about having been right all along. That was what parents did. Or mothers did at least. Maya had always wished it had been her father left. Miranda knew that. It was what had always harmed their relationship.

"Do you work?" The grumpy wizard asked bluntly, "Or does he work?" A teacup hit the work surface a bit harder than expected, causing it to shatter. Little had Ignan realised what a sensitive topic this was.

Swearing, Miranda started to collect the pieces in her hand to throw away. Maya’s mouth opened in shock and she glared from Storm to her mother.
“Is nothing, private, Miranda?” She’d visibly become quite irritated. “You didn’t have to tell your grumpy nosy boyfriend!” Without any further words, Maya finally left them in piece, storming from the kitchen and out of the front door with her young daughter in tow.

With the front door slamming, loudly, Miranda made to finish clearing away the broken china while the water boiled on the stove.
“She wasn’t supposed to be here when you arrived.” She didn’t turn to look at him, instead looking down at the broken cup, not maintaining her usual calm demeanour. There always had to be something or someone that wound you up. Maya Elliot was hers.

The cup pulled itself back together, commanded by Ignan's outstretched wand. He tucked it away again as soon as the spell had completed.
"Charming daughter." Ignan replied quietly. "Did I say something?"

Of course he'd said something, but Mira had made it quite clear that she wanted Maya out of the house, and he was only happy to oblige with a personal question in return to her comments. She hadn't had to snap at her mother and slam the door. Maya wasn't a teenager as far as Ignan knew. Teenagers slammed doors, he knew that too well.

"You alright?" He asked, realising she looked out of sorts. If that was too far, then Maya was really going to hate him, and he'd never redeem himself. That was tame. She wouldn't survive the sort of questions the seventh years endured about them being useful members of society after they left Hogwarts.

"You alright?" Ignan queried while Miranda stared down at the cup he'd just repaired in her hand. She placed it on the work surface a lot more delicately this time and frowned. Was she going to tell him that she was in fact brilliant and there was  no problem, her daughter was just a horrible moody person and would never change. Or was she honest and moan about her problems and why exactly she appreciated being able to take up residence in his home?

"He was sacked on Thursday." She chose the latter. If Ignan was scared off by family issues and ungrateful daughters then there was no point in them fooling themselves that it would work out. "He tried to steal from the safe when the owner was out." While Miranda spoke she busied herself making two cups of tea, much better to have something to do with her hands. "Maya was furious with me last night when she asked for some money and I said no. Apparently I'm not a worthy mother. Basically giving up my own house for them isn't enough."

Miranda was evidently still angry but she tried not to show it too much. She finished off the tea and turned, handing one to her much calmer, other half.
"I always give in to her because I think about how much she missed out on not having her father around growing up. But not this time." This was the first time she'd opened up about their relationship with Ignan but the words kept coming as she leant against the work surface cradling the teacup.

"He's stolen from me as well. Galleons have gone missing from my study. I've lost some jewellery which won't show up with Accio. I tried to tell her but she accused me of trying to break them apart to get my house back."

After a moment pause and contemplation as she took a sip of the hot tea, Miranda's eyes met his.
"I need them gone."

It was such a simple question to ask if Mira was alright, but he couldn't think the last time he had. The two of them didn't do talking about feelings or griping. When they did talk briefly about things it was more about what they felt like eating, or how they felt about other people who interrupted their relatively easy co-existence with Gerda the house elf.

Mira didn't break teacups, she had nimble hands, ones that could put a man back together. Fair enough, they couldn't raise a body-bind spell, but she could reconstruct an arm blown to bits by a backfiring spell.

He had expected her to brush aside whatever was the matter, the British stiff upper lip, so when she did elaborate, he stopped and paid proper attention, leaning his hands on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

"He was sacked on Thursday." Ignan put two and two together to reason that he was definitely Maya's partner, father of bonny little Katrine. "He tried to steal from the safe when the owner was out."

Mira had turned to make tea, but Ignan watched the way her hands flew about and the tension in her shoulders. This did not sound like the potential son in law that Mira would ever want in her family. From what Ignan had encountered, Mira had a strong moral compass.

His lover continued with the explanation about the house, about Maya asking for money. No wonder his query about a job had gone down terribly. He'd more or less shoved a stunner right in the nest.

When Mira turned with a cup to hand over, Ignan stood up properly again, lifting his hands from the back of one of the kitchen chairs to receive it gingerly in both hands, uttering thanks.

"… much she missed out on not having her father around growing up…" There was a faint pang of guilt in Ignan's subconscious at his own son, who Mira was very much unaware of as he'd lied about never having had any children. He had steered well clear of Mira's ex-husband, but knew that he'd passed away. He'd imagined it was a painful subject, and he had no business asking. If anything he didn't want to encourage comparisons between himself and a dead man.

"… he's stolen from me as well."

The tea remained in one hand, not yet making it to his lips at this information. How on earth was Mira standing for someone stealing from her? Ignan would have had fingers off if he were in the same situation.

"I need them gone."

"I'll say." Ignan agreed, finally taking a sip of the tea, "Or at least this sticky-fingered one. He doesn't sound like the sort of father your granddaughter needs." His blue eyes narrowed in consideration about what he might suggest. Mira may have already pursued avenues, and he had a feeling she wouldn't have mentioned it unless she was at her wit's end.

"No wonder you've been at Godric's Hollow." He added lowering the cup to a space on the kitchen table, taking a glance into the next room which looked to be the living room. There were various bits and pieces scattered that looked to be related to small children.

"How long have you known?" He asked, looking back to Mira directly, quite serious. "Have you reported him to the Ministry? Did his employer do that on Thursday?"

Had she told the ministry? In response to that, Miranda simply shook her head. She didn't want to spread the news. It was bad enough that it was happening under her nose in her own home.  It was public enough her telling him, the first person apart from Maya that she'd voiced her concerns to. While normally caring and softer with her, Mira knew there was a darker side to Ignan. He was a  problem solver, a wizard who knew how to get things done and part of her had asked him because she'd seen a glimpse of that side in his office. She wanted it to come out now and rid her of Bug the stealing butcher with tattoos and a stupid name.

"It's been happening since he moved himself in here to be with her and the child. Things started going missing. Only small to start with." But then they started getting bigger and more expensive.

Miranda, having noticed Ignan glancing towards the living room as if looking for a comfortable place to sit, vacated her spot against the counter and lead the way into the much smaller living room. While the room was small and full of furniture, the view compensated for the size. From the patio windows one could not see a house or another man being, instead an open expanse of fields and hills.

"I don't want the ministry involved. It won't do to have people finding out." The healer lowered herself onto the sofa and watched him follow her in. "He just needs to go." The look at Storm was pointed. She had a niggling feeling he was capable of such things.she certainly wasn't.
 

Mira lead them into her living room. Being the first time he'd visited, and as she'd summoned him to visit her, he was cautious to assume he knew where to sit. Knowing his luck he'd sit in Mira's place.

He paused in the doorway as he saw the view out of the windows. It was much more impressive than the view at Godric's Hollow - at the back of the house the hillside stretched up and on the front he faced other houses across the road. The view from here was spectacular, and he and his cup of tea were drawn towards it.

"I don't want the ministry involved. It won't do to have people finding out. He just needs to go."

Ignan took a mouthful of tea and focused on her reflection in the glass a moment, considering things.
"Change the locks? I can re-ward the place for you, should keep him out unless he's got more brains than the average thief." He turned a little from the patio window and shrugged, "I had to do that at the start of summer, bit tedious, but I'm sure you don't want my family dropping in unannounced when you're there." He gave once last approving glance out of the window and made his way over to join her on the sofa. He finished his tea, more thirsty than he'd realised from the travel from one end of the country to the other, and set aside the cup on a nearby coaster.

"What do you suppose he's stealing for, if he's got - er - had a job?" He asked, and crossed one leg over the other. "Drink? Potions? Gambling?" He threw a few obvious choices into the mix. "Or have you not found out yet?"

He leaned back into Mira's sofa,
"I'm more irritated Maya didn't bring him here to meet me. I think I'd rather have enjoyed measuring him." He let out a sigh and let his eyes return to the view. "They been together long, or just because of Katrine?"

Comfortable in her own home without Bug or her rude daughter around, Miranda kicked her shoes off and pulled her feet onto the sofa, pulling her legs into her chest relaxing back with her cup of tea. Before leaving the UK Mira had spent many an hour here with her work watching the sun set over the hills. It was the one place she could be perfectly relaxed. Jon and she had chosen this cottage in the middle of nowhere because there was no one around, because the view didn't compare to anything else.

She didn't respond to his offer to change her warding spells. It seemed pointless when Maya would blame her anyway. She needed something that didn't rebound on her. So as Ignan lowered himself onto the sofa beside her, Miranda continued to sip at her tea. 

Boy did Ignan have a few questions. Miranda had expected him to brush it off, not wanting to talk about personal lives but he was taking a genuine interest, picking up on her cues that she wanted rid of Bug.

"He's a big drinker. They met on a night out. Katrine was an accident but my daughter, true to form, had to make it worse. He visited here once when she was pregnant. He was going to split with her, I rea-" Miranda paused, she hadn't shared that vital bit of information with Ignan. "He saw the house and more importantly what was in it and changed his mind. It's small but it's worth a lot of money." She indicated the view outside.

"If he'd seen you he'd have run." Miranda smirked at the wizard over her teacup. "It's a pity you didn't have the same effect on me." She gave him a small kick.

Seeing Mira kick off her shoes was a good indication she was relaxing after the broken cup minutes before. He had been worried she'd asked him to come because she had got cold feet.

"He's a big drinker. They met on a night out. Katrine was an accident…" Mira explained, while Ignan listened, building up more of a picture of this Bug fellow Mira had mentioned in passing before her outburst in the kitchen.

"If he'd seen you he'd have run. It's a pity you didn't have the same effect on me." Her foot nudged at him, and he reached out, grasping it gently. It had been a bottle of whiskey, and bare feet that had led to them that first kiss in the dark in Hogsmeade, a fortnight of keeping it to themselves before Mira had left to take charge of St Mungo's.

"Ahh, but I like you, Mira." Ignan teased, careful to avoid the other l-word that had caused an adverse reaction, and had been uttered in the heat of the moment to his own surprise.

"If I didn't, you'd have run, and we'd most certainly have not ended up in the pub that night." He explained, smoothing his hand over the top of her foot affectionately, and rubbed at the ball of her foot gently with his thumb, wondering absentmindedly how many hours she'd been on her feet that week, tending to patients.

"And you wouldn't have invited me to your home in which case." He raised both eyebrows and looked to her.
"Can't have invited me all the way out here to tell me about Maya's unfortunate choice of father for your granddaughter."

"Ahh, but I like you, Mira” She knew he liked her. He’d admitted worse over a week ago. This, she’d thought about a lot, dreamed about even. The night he’d blurted it out she’d felt extremely uncomfortable, having not come face to face with her feelings for him. Miranda had been happier to keep it informal between them and not use labels. The less tied to one another, the better, the less chance of getting hurt.

Storm continued to speak, his hand now gently rubbing her foot and she relaxed into it, enjoying her tea and the peaceful atmosphere and calm now her daughter had vacated the house for a while. Maya had left behind a nasty taste in Miranda’s mouth but Ignan’s presence made her comfortable and mildly distracted.

"Can't have invited me all the way out here to tell me about Maya's unfortunate choice of father for your granddaughter."

“We have an auror in our midst.” Miranda smiled at her wizard friend, who unknown to her had actually been an auror. Then, as if preparing herself for something, she pulled her foot away, put her legs down properly and faced the professor.

Now sat normally on the sofa, Miranda placed the teacup on the coffee table and sat up straight.
“Before my husband died, I thought he would be the only man I’d love or who would love me.” Mira looked uncomfortable, but she’d prepared herself to speak to Ignan.  “When I lost him, my whole world fell apart. I was a wreck. I was never going to feel something for anyone again, it hurt too much.” She wasn’t looking at Ignan when she spoke, staring at the teacup instead. “I didn’t expect to meet you and when I did and we started spending more time together, I resolved to not let any feelings confuse things. It wasn't going to last more than a month, I thought.”

The healer’s hand reached out to Ignan’s and she gave it a squeeze. Dark eyes finally met his.
“I feel comfortable with you and I…” she stopped, thinking. “You scared me last week. It’s not because of how you feel or the shock of what you said,” her spare hand nervously brushed hair back from her face. “I can’t lose anyone again. I wouldn’t cope.”

"We have an auror in our midst." Ignan met her smile, and let Mira's foot slide away, looking round properly to listen to her explanation.

"When I lost him, my whole world fell apart." His blue stare that usually made the other party feel they were being examined, changed at this confession. The words brought back feelings from the time in his life after Italy to going back to Germany, but he couldn't imagine how much worse it had been for Miranda who had married and set up a life. With Azorma it had been more lust and business. Nothing had been stable or conventional.

Neither of them had thought it would amount to much it seemed. Ignan had been almost sure her departure would have ended things, especially if it was back to Durmstrang. He'd been somewhat elated to hear about her new job that it had led to things in dark Hogsmeade.

She clasped his hand, and he returned the tension in his grip.
"I feel comfortable with you and I…" His eyebrows lowered a fraction in consideration of what she might be saying.

"… I can't lose anyone again. I wouldn't cope."

Ignan was surprised, and he sat back ever so slightly from Mira as he took that in. They had become more attached than he'd ever thought they might. Was that a bad thing? No.

"My darling Mira," He spoke softly at last, "I have no plans to go anywhere," he raised his other hand as if to stop her retorting that he might not have a choice in the plans, "And we do not choose who we fall in love with, or end up drawn to." He gave a slight shrug and squeezed her hand, attempting a sympathetic expression.

"I know I cannot guarantee, and likewise you cannot either, but I would rather spend another day, year, decades or the rest of my days with you, than not one more with you at all."

The confession had left Miranda feeling vulnerable and unsure how Ignan would respond. Neither were the sort to readily share feelings and gush about each other; each more suited to a brisk hug and a drink together. Building feelings for Ignan had taken the witch quite by surprise and her own feelings had been something she’d needed to confess. Revealing fears and scars did expose vulnerability but if they were to develop in a relationship, Ignan needed to see it. He needed to choose whether to remain in her living room, happy to continue, or whether to take the floo and escape.

Apparently the Deputy Headmaster who rarely cracked a smile decided to stay. His words, in fact, had been laced with a usually well hidden romance and affection and she watched him carefully, visibly relaxing.

There was a pause, a semi-awkward silence after Storm’s words before his lover leaned over to him on the sofa, a hand on his face as she planted a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. She drew back and dark eyes darted between his.
“You need to be selective at your age.” The usual darker smirk had returned and Miranda stood from the sofa. She took her wand from behind her ear and flicked it at the kitchen door. Moments later, dancing into the living room came a bottle of red and two large glasses. They hovered in the air as Miranda stepped up to the patio doors and pushed them open.
“Come, you should see a real garden. Not that molehill you’ve named one.”