Latter half jointly written with Mel over IM

Gerda had conveyed the news, the tips of her ears drooping over, eyes full of worry. Despite the house-elf's animosity towards Mira at times for the smoking, her master could tell she had become fond of her mistress in his absence. Neither of them were particularly harsh as masters went, and Gerda was a bright, capable young elf. Ignan was glad that she had been there, and thought quickly enough to transport Miranda to St Mungo's when she had collapsed on the Saturday evening. However capable and wonderful Miranda was, he worried that she would do herself an injury living alone, despite the fact she had for years.

Frustratingly he couldn't get away until the afternoon The news for him was also brought by several families, and with Minerva absent more often than around with Wizengamot duties, he had to step in and juggle temporary student departures with the Heads of Houses to visit sick relatives, and in the most unfortunate cases, arrange for his colleagues to break harrowing news of deaths to their young charges.  He had just enough time before he left to offer Camille to travel by floo with him, though she declined, asking him to pass on her regards to Mira, explaining she would visit her son that evening, more chance he would be in a state for visitors. So Ignan had gone alone.

The hospital's Head Healer was not to be found on the silent wards of those who had also fallen silently asleep from the suspected poisoning which had been splashed across the front page of the newspaper that morning. The hospital's foyer had been full of reporters not so covertly scribbling down who they saw. Ignan had grit his teeth - he was forever recognisable these days. The press were never all that complimentary of him, and he doubted his presence would go unnoticed. Still, they were no further than the foyer, confined. Had he had to ask for directions it might have been more awkward, but Gerda had once again done a superb job, so finding the isolated room with only Miranda within had not taken too long. There were no incompetent hitwizards on this occasion.

He had witnessed Miranda asleep on more than one occasion, sometimes completely worn out, she had drifted off in his arms, him following soon after, but this sleep was different. Yes, she was just as peaceful, but she was also so very still. When tired, his lover could sleep like the dead, but there was more life to her than this. Here, in the not so brightly lit room, she was eerily still, breathing slow, unchanging in rhythm. Bewitched. It took him a moment after sitting down beside her to feel he could reach out and take her hand. It was cool, but not cold to the touch. He let it rest in his upturned palm and closed the other over it.

"Well, at least you're catching up on sleep." He spoke, supposing it might help. She might be able to hear him somewhere, and it gave him something to do than to stare at her. "You'll get out of here when you've woken up, looking like a twenty year-old." The fingers of his upper hand ran over the back of her hand gently.
"Bet you'll be dying for a smoke though." Ignan smirked at the thought. "I'll make sure there's whiskey at home."

He paused, frowning at her expression a moment, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Everything was rather up in the air at the moment about all of this. Much as he had complete confidence in Miranda's staff, they were now without a leader. Hogwarts flummoxed enough without one, he knew from keeping a hand on the rudder as second in command, but the hospital was a far larger team.
"You'll be awake, giving me and the rest of the hospital hell I'm sure. Won't be long." He squeezed her hand. "This is Miranda Elliot I'm discussing of course. You're probably in there figuring it all out."

The Professor let out a sigh and tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling, feeling a little silly.
"I don't know if you know, but they've got you a fancy room to yourself. I suppose it comes with the job. Can't have you in a ward. Perks of the job. It's a bit quiet though. I'm not used to making all the conversation." He leaned forward, leaving a gentle kiss on Miranda's forehead, "Don't get used to it." he uttered quietly as he leaned over.

Footsteps right outside the door gave Ignan just enough of a warning to lift Mira's hand back onto the bedsheets from between his own. When the door came open he was already on his guard, blue eyes watching the arrivals.

“Well she’s not dead, Claire.” Jacob Carter gruffy muttered as he pulled open the door to the small room their daughter had been placed in since being brought into St Mungo’s last night. “Yet.” Mrs Carter scowled at her husband and stepped into the room. She stopped still as her eyes landed on an unexpected figure. “Oh!”
   
The family resemblance between the pair in the doorway and the sleeping witch between them all was easy to spot. That, and the fact Jacob Carter's photograph had not escaped recent attention from Ignan in the Prophet. Through the surprise at coming face to face with Miranda's parents, Ignan didn't manage to form words but froze, before he finally cleared his throat and gave a nod of acknowledgement. His feet came beneath him, intending to leave if Miranda's parents were there. This wasn't the way they should meet.

Claire’s dark eyes scanned the figure now standing up, her lips parted as she tried to place him. Her face was worn, worry lines etched into the 82 years’ worth of wrinkles. Jacob, however stepped forward, lips pursed and chest suddenly pushed out, trying to look larger than his 5 foot 8. He knew the wizard who’d been sat beside Miranda. But what in Merlin’s name was he doing by her bedside?
“I wasn’t aware Miranda had visitors.” Dark eyes scowled at the younger wizard.

"Just departing." Ignan replied quietly, though clearly enough for them both to hear. He gave a nod to each of them this time and stepped away from the chair at Mira's bedside, towards the door. The Carters stood in the way. He had hoped for an easy escape, avoid meeting them until their daughter was well again to referee - if their daughter was well again.

“Don’t let us push you out, dear.” A quiet response came from the witch with a twinge of a Norwegian accent but her eyes had travelled away from the wizard she addressed. Instead they fell on the dark haired witch in the bed, concern marring her features. Mr Carter wasn’t preoccupied with the sleeping witch.
“Were you holding my daughter’s hand?”

Ignan stopped. Whereas he had looked respectful and polite towards Madam Carter's response, his expression hardened somewhat to her husband's question. He was stood between Ignan and the corridor, right in the door. There was no avoiding him.
"I'm sorry?" Ignan asked, pretending to dismiss the question as very strange, feigning confusion. "I should leave you both to see your daughter. If you'll excuse me." He gestured to Jacob to move out of the way.

Jacob’s grip on the cane tightened and Claire glanced at her husband, a hand calmly placed on his arm, a silent gesture for him to back down. Now wasn’t the time to pick a fight. This wizard must have been who Alex had mentioned.
“I want to know why the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts was alone in my daughter’s hospital room.”
“Jacob…”
“No, Claire. Andy’s been poisoned and-“
“You’re stressed,”
“Claire!” The wizard’s voice rose as he shot a scowl at his wife.

"Visiting your daughter." Ignan interjected, raising his voice only slightly as he began the sentence to catch Jacob's attention back from scolding his wife. There was no real avoiding this, was there? He extended his hand,
"Ignan Storm. Unfortunate to meet you both in such circumstances."

Normally Claire might have stopped trying to calm her husband and his temper but today she scowled back as Ignan Storm introduced himself and held his out to Jacob who scowled down at it.
“I know who you are.” He didn’t shake his hand back but Claire extended her own and took Ignan’s. She placed a second hand gently on the back of the German’s and offered a weak smile.
“Claire Carter. Andy would be pleased you’ve visited. I’m sure.”

Ignan managed a weak smile in response to Claire, who was considerably politer than her husband who had dismissed the polite introduction. He hadn't anticipated Jacob Carter to be quite so rude, but his daughter was comatose a few feet from them, in her own hospital. Ignan was anxious for her, though his outward expression did not suggest very much.
"Thank you." He attempted to withdraw his hand, glancing towards Jacob as he did. He had not pursued the earlier question, thankfully, he might manage to escape yet…
“If she can even hear us.” The weak smile vanished, her hand went limp in Ignan’s, and Claire moved across to the bed where Miranda slept. Her hand smoothed back the dark hair carefully.

“She can’t.” The response was blunt as Jacob’s gaze didn’t leave Ignan. “What is the Deputy Headmaster from Hogwarts doing here?” The words were slow, deliberate, as if he was talking to an idiot who didn’t speak English. Ignan afforded Claire a glance as she approached her daughter, but Jacob who was stood far closer repeated his question like a pedant. He drew himself up a little taller, several inches taller than the other, older wizard.
"Visiting your daughter." Ignan repeated, mimicking the drawn out tone that Jacob had used in query.

Jacob visibly tensed, fingers turning white on the handle of his cane.
“Why?” He breathed, barely holding a rising temper. “Miranda doesn’t do friends. What do you want?”
"For her to wake up, same as you, Mr Carter." Ignan replied smoothly, he moved his left arm a little to re-accommodate his winter cloak which he had removed while indoors and was draped over his forearm. He glanced towards mother and daughter as he said it, and then down to father. "Unless I have surmised incorrectly?"

Behind a set of thick glasses, Jacob’s eyes widened dramatically and his face practically turned red.
“You piece of-”
“Jacob!” Claire’s head shot around as her gaze darted between her husband and Ignan Storm. “Please…this isn’t helping.” Her fingers were wrapped about Miranda’s limp hand, her features pale with worry and frustration. “I don’t want you to fight with her boyfriend.”

Jacob nearly choked. Ignan found it hard to not do the exact same. He had never been referred to as Miranda's boyfriend. The age he was, and the fact he taught teenagers who used that language meant he avoided it wholeheartedly in relation to himself.

"Apologies, Madam Carter." He spoke, turning away from Jacob to bow his head to her. When he turned back, he added in a low voice, "Piece of what, Carter?"
“Piece of sh-”
“No!” Claire was now fixing Ignan with a hard stare. “You don’t apologise to me and then further bait my husband.” Against the bedsheet, Miranda’s fingers twitched but her body didn’t move, her eyes didn’t open.

"Well, it's been a pleasure," Ignan spoke after an awkward pause of being told off by practically his mother-in-law. "I should really go." Jacob continued to stare at Ignan. Then it began to sink in.
"Boyfriend?"
"I prefer partner." Eyes scanned the white hair, the wrinkles and Jacob scowled.
“I bet you do.”

There was a strange pause between the two wizards, Jacob scowling up at Ignan, the Professor narrowing his eyes down at Miranda's father. He was getting to old for this appeasing parents game.
"You seem a little lost for words, Carter, or has your wife got your tongue? No, we shouldn't," he gestured towards Claire and Mira, "Mira would prefer to be awake to hear this. Then again, she might wake up…" He gave a shrug and then an altogether unnerving smirk to Jacob.

Claire could only watch as Jacob’s blood practically began to boil.
“Get out.” Jacob scowled. “Bloody girl could never pick a decent guy. Her stupid husband was the same.” Ignan was only too happy to oblige, tilting his head.

"So glad to meet your approval, Mr Carter. Madam Carter." He gave a nod to each. "We shall have to have you both over to my house for afternoon tea. Well, I say my house, your daughter's lived there half the year…" Ignan's head snapped up and he mustered a polite expression despite Jacob's boiling blood beside him. "Good afternoon." He turned to the door, barely waiting for Jacob to get out of the way before pushing it open.

Not quite the way he'd imagined he might meet Miranda's parents, but he hoped she'd approve.