As her office door was pushed open, Head Healer Elliot was rather too distracted by lighting her cigarette to notice the door hadn’t in fact been locked as she had left it. She was too focused on closing her eyes and inhaling the smoke as she pushed the door shut to notice the wizard politely sat behind her desk awaiting her arrival. She was too tired to notice anything other than the calming cigarette she’d had been craving for hours while on the ward on the 4th floor.

If Elliot had have looked across to her desk, she’d have noticed him sat with wand in hand  behind the clutter of a weekend’s worth of parchment with illegible scrawl, energy potions and a half eaten sandwich. She’d have noticed the various stacks of parchment had been straightened and that the wizard didn’t look best pleased.

Perhaps the guest had grown bored of waiting for the office’s occupant to become aware because he cleared his throat.
Now Miranda didn’t jump; for a moment her eyes remained closed as she considered what to do with him actually sat in her presently messy office after days of her not returning home. She was stood frozen to the spot, cigarette an inch from her lips. He’d seen the energy potions strewn on the desk, he’d seen the Head Healer smoking where smoking was very much prohibited and he could see her looking the tired and worn state that she was in. The gold and emerald robes that denoted her as the Head had been discarded in favour of a traditional pair of her old healer’s robes, worn and slim fitting. Her hair, straggly and frizzy had been pulled into a scruffy bun and her features were free of makeup while her glasses hung on a red string around her neck. Ignan hadn’t seen Miranda looking quite so terribly put together.

Finally her eyes did open and she took a long drag of the cigarette as dark brown met cold blue.
“It’s rude to break someone’s wards, Storm.”

Gerda had been most helpful. A year ago he would have said he would not consider ever having an elf to command, and within a few months he had inherited one. The young female elf had been more than helpful over Spring, brandishing frying pans at his younger cousin as necessary, cleaning up blood splattered robes by Easter following his experiments for corpus inversus. Then through summer the house at Godric's Hollow had been transformed with her help, and Mira's too.

His house-elf and the woman he loved did not always see eye to eye. Mira goaded the elf a little, which did amuse Ignan, truth be told. The elf had become bold enough to hold opinion on it's new mistress, which in turn amused Ignan. He was not a stereotypical master, and admired a little independent thinking from his elf assistant. It was why he had sourced Gerda to look after his ailing father in the last few months of his life. The elf had needed to differentiate orders with insanity.

When Gerda had appeared at Hogwarts late on Sunday evening, the sight of her had made his stomach drop to the point a quill dropped out of his hand and splattered ink on the edge of his proposal to the Governors to invite key members of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to address students at a later date regarding their work at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Not at all, Master. I have already been to the hospital to find her." Gerda had wrung her hands, explaining in fair detail that Mira had neither been home nor allowed Gerda to assist in any way, as per her Master's orders. When he was at Hogwarts, Gerda was to assist Mira in any way she was directed. Gerda hated to not be able to fulfil orders, which was partly her reason to appear.

Late on a Monday evening, the castle settling in for a long autumn night, Ignan had departed, heading for London. St Mungo's was busier than he had observed it before on a normal evening. The queue downstairs was filled with all manner of floating children, purple hands and uncontrollable belching that made Ignan recall the first years by the end of September.

He knew his way to Mira's office, and also that there was no hopping to be done at the door. A simple knock confirmed she was not within, and it took three minutes to get inside. This displeased him, not for the fact he could reach the inside of the Head Healer's office, but because it had taken him quite so long.

The state of MIra's office was a sight. He had half a mind to summon Gerda there to help, but resigned himself to tidy just enough to straighten piles and cast away the remains of half eaten sustenance. There was working hard, and then there was burning the candle at both ends to the point she risked making a life-threatening mistake. While he had never been a healer, he had operated in crisis as an auror, and lack of sleep and over-exertion in such a situation could lead to lethal mistakes. It was one reason he was glad his cousin only dealt with paperwork.

The door came over at long last after he had settled in her desk chair and straightened her piles of paper. The sight of Mira was enough to stir concern without hearing her weary voice and associate it to Gerda's account and recent news reports.

"It's rude to break someone's wards, Storm."

"Only living up to reputation then, Elliot."  He uttered from her desk, sitting forward before getting to his feet slowly.

Damn this witch. She somehow found that long crushed corner that had been growing since his arrival in Britain. The bit of him that cared about people he had grown fond with.

"You look…" he paused, all his careful mental planning on how to approach this had evanescoed on seeing her. "… burned out, Mira." His feet carried him gently towards her, closing the distance. Both of them were still dressed for working. Ignan's suit had the telltale signs of a long day teaching and no longer looked fresh. Mira was in standard healer robes that were not as well cut or tailored as her official ones.

"Will you stop a while? I heard you haven't been home since Friday morning." He paused, contemplating whether to touch her. It felt a little strange, as it had when she had visited him in his office months ago. " Mira, it's Monday night, please tell me you've slept?"

Compliments, it would appear, were hardly a mastery of Ignan Storm. Informing him tired and perhaps somewhat snarky lover that she looked ‘burned out’ was not the way to soften the blow of arriving unannounced in her office. A dark eyebrow twitched upwards towards her hair line and pale lips pursed together as she considered a response.

The intruder was stepping nearer, closing the distance between them in the dimly lit office and Miranda took another drag on her cigarette, a distraction to stop her from making a comment she may regret about exactly why he was sticking his nose into her work business. Ignan’s expression rarely revealed much, but Mira need to remind herself he was no doubt here out of concern rather than much else. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t used to the concern of another when it came to working long hours and a lack of sleep.

"Mira, it's Monday night, please tell me you've slept?" It was concern, Mira knew. Yet she was rather put out. Her dark eyes carefully watched his as she exhaled a small cloud of smoke.

“I’ve slept.” He’d asked her to tell him that, so she acquiesced. The dark rings beneath her eyes evidenced how she hadn’t slept, or at least hadn’t slept a lot. Despite the duty rooms where healers could sleep in the hospital, Mira had been somewhat grateful in the past few days for the sofa in her office. She’d collapsed for an hour or so before making her way back down to the wards.

Not wishing to respond rudely or snap at Ignan, Miranda walked past him to a small side table with housed a coffee pot, a teapot and some mugs. She flicked her wand at the coffee (a staple of her diet over the weekend) and it sprang to life, heating and brewing.
“Are you here on the orders of your elf?”

She appeared none too pleased that he was there. Ordinarily, Ignan would not have considered doing this at all, but he doubted he would get the truth out of her by writing. He hoped, perhaps naively, that she would do the same if a crisis befell Hogwarts.

Despite her response in the positive, Ignan was quite sure that the sleep she had managed to catch had not been at all sufficient. Mira looked more tired than he had ever observed her.

"Are you here on the orders of your elf?" Mira asked. Ignan frowned.
"Of course not. Gerda might be independent enough to chance her luck at implying orders to you, but not to me. No, she merely reported back because she has been unable to carry out my orders." Ignan folded his arms and watched Mira with his cold blue eyes. "Which was to make sure you had everything you needed. If I needed to spy on you, I'd choose something better than an elf." He gave a shrug, arms loosening from their fold across his chest.

"A letter at this time seemed too insensitive, what with demands for hitwizards on your wards." He closed the distance between them, an arm gently reaching the small of her back. "Is anyone looking after the Head Healer when she looks after all in this building?"

Miranda did do Ignan the respect of turning to face him as he spoke. She stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray on the sideboard and patiently waited for her coffee to be completed. Mira didn’t even like coffee. She felt it tasted of burning and stale milk. But coffee, unlike tea, was a decent enough stimulant to allow her to stay alert enough to do her job. That mixed with the energy potions and pepperup potion she’d mixed. All in all, the witch was a walking stimulant with the faint smell of cigarette smoke.
Why in Merlin’s name Ignan came so close, he didn’t know.

A hand was slipped to her back and Miranda tilted her head to look up to the bright blue eyes that were silently studying her.
“Who says I need looking after?” Her dark eyes challenged him before a hand was placed on his chest, fingers brushing over the shirt crumpled from a day of work. Ignan was much like the witch he’d visited; a mind in work even when his body wasn’t. He was a professor, a teacher, an authority figure even when he wasn’t in the classroom. Miranda was a healer and a stubborn bitch no matter her situation.

“Tell me, wise one,” An eyebrow rose as the witch strained her neck to look him dead in the eye at such close proximity. “Would you sleep if your job was on the line and your school at risk of being blown up?”
It was immediately after she said this that Miranda’s lips twisted into a smirk and she shook her head. “Like a baby, no doubt. You’re not the biggest fan of children.”

"Nobody does. I just ask if anyone is." Ignan confirmed gently as Mira's hand rested on his chest in return to his hand on the back of her waist.

It was the first time they had touched in almost a month. Dinner at Godric's Hollow had gone horribly wrong when wine was consumed and they had talked about their past. The two of them had avoided it wholeheartedly for five months or more, and wandering into it had resulted in Miranda becoming upset that Ignan had kept the fact he had a son from her.

The letters that had passed between them during October had clarified matters, but to say he had been a little worried on how Mira would react to his presence was an understatement. Despite the clear air the letters indicated.

"Hmm…" Ignan replied as Mira posed the theoretical situation. "I'm not, no, but you are right, I would be on edge too. But it has been three days since the Leaky Cauldron came down, and nobody's exploded here." His tone was just as clear as ever, but he didn't speak too loudly. It was the end of a long day for him, and Mira was strung out. He did not want to risk another fight or disagreement, yet he couldn't stay in Scotland without showing some concern - not after last time.

"I admit, I worry for you," he shrugged, reaching his other hand up to gently stroke her cheek, "but then I remember you are a capable, highly intelligent captain of this rather efficient ship, and don't need me worrying. But I do." He leaned forward gently to kiss her forehead just before the coffee finished.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I admit, I worry for you," It would be fair to say that Miranda failed to hide her surprise as Ignan spoke and stroked her cheek gently. Eyebrows rose and her lips parted as she stared up at him. Who was this gentle and caring wizard and what had he done with her grumpy cold one? The last time they’d seen each other face to face he’d pointedly point her in her place and made it crystal clear that he didn’t want to share his history with her. He’d been harsh and she’d been angry. Perhaps that was why she was so shocked by the sudden tenderness and coming all the way down to London to see if she was sleeping or being ‘looked after’.

Soft lips gently brushed her forehead and Miranda decided the sensitivity was a bit too much for her to take in after so long with a lack of decent sleep. She pulled herself back, a steady hand on his chest to retain the distance as she looked up at him.
Was there anything he could do?
“You can not treat me like a porcelain doll.” Her tone sounded harsher than she intended and Miranda sighed. Tiredness led to crankiness and crankiness led to snapping at someone who actually happened to care. “It’s unnerving.”

She turned from him and started to make herself a mug of steaming black coffee.
“I’ve not had someone worry about me in a long time, excuse me for not being too excited.”

At her response to put distance between them, he withdrew both his hands and let her turn away. It had been a very long time indeed that someone had said something like that to him. Usually he was accused of the opposite - hysterical students suggesting he was trying to kill them.

"I suppose it probably is." He agreed to unnerving and wandered away from her in her office, critically evaluating how this was going. He hadn't come down to London with a particular plan. He just knew he had to come down. Nor had he expected to see Mira looking quite so haggard. Not that he was going to point that out to her. It was dangerous enough to show her rare affection.

"Don't be excited, even if I have made a 'house' call. Save whatever energy you have for your job, Head Healer." The Deputy Headmaster shrugged his shoulders and slid his hands into his pockets. "Why do you think the place is going to explode, anyhow? Are you following the line that the attack was targeted on a person or persons?" He fixed Mira with a look, although tired, that was reminiscent of picking apart the arguments of his students when they wrote essays.

"If you are then I could so very easily have walked in and done away with the relevant patients, given where I'm stood now, without being challenged."

As if by magic the Ignan that Miranda knew and liked made his return with straight fact, analysis and distance. He got down to the business of why she’d spent so many hours at the hospital, believing it to be only based upon her belief the target was within her walls. He had no idea about the anniversary that had been yesterday and her need to keep busy. He would probably never have any idea because she’d never tell him.

Mira took a few moments to blow on the coffee before she turned back to Ignan who’d retreated further into the medium sized office. He was highlighting the hospital’s vulnerability and Miranda’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him through the stream of her coffee cup. The expression on his features was not a look she was used to receiving from him.
“It would have happened by now, I know that. I could sneak past the gargoyle brained hitwizards in a troll costume.” A smirk came to her lips before she moved to sit on the two seater sofa in the corner of the office. There was a blanket thrown over it which she folded and placed over the back of the couch. It was one of the many signs she’d been sleeping and living in this office for the past few days.

“I’m understaffed.” He didn’t need a further explanation; probably wouldn’t want one. “I’ve been covering the shifts. It’s cheaper and easier. There is literally no budget for these emergencies. My predecessor spent it on snazzy uniforms with extra pockets and patterned bed linen for the permanent patients.” She was stressed; it was evident in the lines of her face and the tone of her voice.

"Do let me know when you demonstrate." Ignan replied quickly and quietly in response to her mention of a troll costume. He mirrored her smirk for a second, glad the woman he loved was underneath the tired exterior, that she might not bite his head off entirely. It was the first they had shared since their argument over Sasha.

"How many are you short?" Ignan asked, not intending to imply he had a spare twenty healers in his pocket but more to get a grasp on how serious the situation was with lack of staff. "You're the finest healer Miranda, but you're not going to cover that many hands. Not without sending yourself to an early grave in the process." He let his gaze wander around the office, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, quietly contemplating whether it was right to join her sat on the small sofa. The quarrel was still lingering in his mind, despite the letters.

"After this, I am sure you will waste no time in organising you have what you need from the board, and Madam Minister. In the meantime, there is nothing more resourceful than Miranda Elliot at the helm. Well, if she's had a few hours sleep." He exhaled and let his shoulders drop, adding more quietly. "I'm not about to ask you about antelope, rest assured."

Ignan was involving himself because he cared. Miranda knew that and was fully aware of it. She knew she’d worked herself to exhaustion and was mindful that she needed a very long sleep very soon in order to keep functioning. The fact that someone was thinking about her and her health was unnerving and Miranda wasn’t sure she necessarily wanted it. The pointed comment about sleep only made her take a sip of coffee to hide the pursed lips.

"I'm not about to ask you about antelope, rest assured."
Dark eyes shot up to Ignan’s and they softened slightly in mild amusement. She patted the seat next to her to invite him to join her and leaned back in the seat.
“I wouldn’t need you to ask. You don’t have to tell me I need sleep. If I lay down right now I’d be unconscious.” She frowned and lowered the coffee cup to her lap. “This is the first emergency that has happened in the hospital since I’ve taken over. I can’t afford for anything to go wrong.” She shrugged her shoulders, “I suppose I haven’t gotten the hang of delegating yet.”

There was a pause before Miranda reached her hand to his and gave it a squeeze.
“I know you haven’t come to molly coddle. I’m just not used to someone caring enough to say something.”

There was a clear indication that he should join her. Despite outward appearances, the pat of the sofa cushion beside her lightened his heart a little and he only waited a beat before obliging. He sank down on the other side of the sofa, mind considering how comfortable - or perhaps uncomfortable - it might be to sleep on.

Mira's hand found his and he looked to her calmly, listening to all she said.
"I'm not used to having someone to care about either - well, over and above contractual obligations." He gave the slightest of shrugs and returned the squeeze, lifting their clasped hands to briefly kiss the back of hers.

"Let me take you home. Our bed is far more comfortable than this, they'll cope without you for six, eight hours, I'm sure. Not as finely as when you're here, undoubtedly, but well enough. Merlin forbid, but one day they might have to cope without their Head Healer." He inclined a little over and bumped shoulders with her, turning his head towards her, looking down to the coffee in her lap. "You know, if I ever manage to prise you away from here to take a holiday." He managed a little smile at the thought, which although he hadn't mentioned to Mira, had been preoccupying his thoughts in his downtime at the school.

“- well, over and above contractual obligations.” Explained the older wizard before giving her hand a kiss. For the majority of emotionally healthy and open people, such a gesture of affection would be taken for exactly what it was. It would be appreciated and returned. Miranda wasn’t an emotionally open person and perhaps never would be. It was why she struggled to appreciate Ignan showing up uninvited at her workplace to tell her she was overworking herself. Oddly, the physical contact was pleasant and Miranda found herself relaxing into the sofa, realising just how she had missed her lover’s company since their argument.

Let him take her home? Despite herself, Mira briefly wondered if he’d stay or rush back to Hogwarts and the teenagers demanding his attention more than the witch he’d felt the need to check up on. As he spoke of the hospital coping without her, dark eyes swam over his face. Had she really started to miss his company? Was it Ignan she longed for or just another’s company at home?

The word holiday was mentioned and it lead to a raise of dark eyebrows. As she considered a response, the witch took a long and steady sip of her coffee. It was a bitter tasting drink that held no benefit for her other than as a weak boost of energy in between the pepperup potions.
“I’m not sure I understand the word holiday.” The healer finally informed her companion with a straight expression before reaching forward to deposit a kiss on his lips. Lingering close, Mira’s lips twisted into a tiny smirk. “I do understand the words comfortable and bed though.”