It wasn’t that Miranda was unaware at how her regular owling to her husband about possible new lodgings was becoming fairly tiresome and annoying. She was more than aware but she simply didn’t care. The old school in Godric’s Hollow was no longer suitable for their needs and she was eager to sort something alternative out. She needed somewhere that she didn’t imagine a dark shadow in the living room to be an ex-schoolmate lurking ready to threaten her.

It was unfortunate for Ignan that when Miranda set about something, she was relentless. She’d spent the past weeks owling details of homes from all over the country to him before settling on Hogsmeade (something he wasn’t yet aware of). It wasn’t that she liked Hogsmeade; in fact, had she not been married to someone that worked and resided at Hogwarts, she’d have given it a wide berth.

So when on Saturday evening Ignan failed to meet her at the proposed address to see their possible new home, an irritated Miranda reserved the place in the name of Mr and Mrs Storm and returned to work. If he couldn’t be bothered to show an interest or even give her a reason for not attending, he had no choice in the matter of where they would reside.

The following morning when she’d been sat in her office over breakfast, her assistant had barged in with a copy of the prophet and panickingly informed her than a handful of Hogwarts students had vanished.

Miranda’s first thought?
‘He’s going to use that as a bloody excuse.’
How inconvenient.

It partially explained his lack of response to her owls. She didn’t, however, feel that was quite acceptable.

On Sunday evening, the witch decided to go and see just how stressed her dear husband happened to be. It must have been mightily so to neglect responding to her. It better had be anyway!

“Madam, stop!” A voice shouted as a wizard stepped in front of the witch who was about to unlock the gate with the charm she knew. The wizards stood on the other side of the locked gate scowling through, wand tips lit and pointing at her in the dark.

Miranda squinted, averting her eyes from the light, allowing herself to become irritated.
“What on earth?”

“No trespassers.”
“Excuse me?”
“No one passes, Madam.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Miranda raised her wand again to unlock the gate.
“Expelliarmus!”

Mira’s wand shot into the air out of her grip and through the gate into the Hitward’s hand.
“For Merlin’s sake, idiot! Fetch Professor Storm.” Her eyes shot to the wizard without her wand. “If you value your job.” They looked between each other before the wizard with her wand nodded and the other retreated up the driveway to collect the deputy headmaster.

Miranda, feeling the biting cold fight it’s way beneath her cloak, pulled it tighter around her body while she waited.

While they waited, she informed the idiot of her status, him clamining he did know a Healer Miranda Elliot but she was obviously wrong with the name and was therefore not entering the school.

“Miranda Storm.” The witch spoke to him as if he was an idiot. “S-T-O-R-M. Can you make the association or are you so retarded they hired you to prove the ministry offer equal opportunities to even the trolls?”

"Professor Storm - at the front gate, Sir-" He stopped mid-sentence with one of the governors to turn and look at the hitwizard. The Ministry had loaned them possibly the most idiotic of the lot. They seemed unable to identify anyone at the gates singlehandedly.

"What is it?" He snapped at the young hitwizard who had been in his lessons the first year he was here, scraping through his OWLs just enough to qualify. He was the same age as the seventh years.

"Someone at the gate trying to get in, says they're here to see you."
"Did you take a name?"
"Er.."

Ignan turned back to the governor, exasperated.
"One can only hope the ones with sense are on the case." He uttered before exchanging a nod and turning back to the junior hitwizard.
"We took her wand, Sir," the wizard offered and Ignan let out a deep sigh and swung his cloak over his shoulders. Miranda.

The walk down to the front gate with the junior hitwizard was in stony silence through the pouring rain. The young wizard kept glancing to his former professor, opening his mouth and closing it as if to start conversation and thinking better of it. Ignan perceived it as the most intelligent thing the young man had done that day, and concentrated on not slipping in the mud caused by all the recent rain.

"I told you, I ain't heard of no Miranda-." Dribbleby's voice came from the gate, beneath a lantern where he was arguing ignorantly with Miranda from within the Hogwarts boundary.

"- are you so retarded they hired you to prove the ministry offer equal opportunities to even the trolls?”

"Almost certainly, darling." Ignan replied, raising his voice beneath the hood of his cloak. His wand extended to the gates to open them, causing the older hitwizard to take a step back. A sharp swipe of his wand yanked Miranda's from the wizard's grip and he caught it precisely with his left hand before extending it back to his wife as she walked towards him.

"The two of you --" Ignan swore, uncharacteristically of him, as he took care to moderate his language at work, but it was that or cause them both an injury "-- best not interrupt me again today unless it's the Dark Lord risen at the boundary." The lack of space between him and the pair of them emphasised his rage along with his wand beneath their noses.

He turned away, nothing more to say and headed away from the gate towards the castle, waiting until they were ten or more feet away before letting out a deep sigh and tucking away his wand. He extended his right hand to Miranda. Ignan's face was obscured by the dark with the cloak and the lack of light.

"Are you alright?" He asked, quite clear he was trying to lighten his tone on purpose, the angry edge still there.

"Almost certainly, darling." The hitwizard looked aghast at the much smaller witch’s gall at calling him retarded and had no time to reply before Ignan made his approach and his own comments. The hitwizard’s mouth closed when he heard the anger in the Deputy Headmaster’s voice, deciding it best not to make further comment about the mean witch demanding entrance to the school.

It was with relief that the cloaked healer stepped through the now open gate and extended her cold hand into the rain to take her wand from her husband’s grasp. From beneath her hood she watched him lean in towards the wizards and swear for probably one of the first times she’d heard.

"Are you alright?" They were a distance away from the gate before Ignan spoke and his wife took his hand, stepping closer and giving it a squeeze.

“I’m decidedly drenched,” she pointed out, feeling her feet slip in the considerably unpractical heels she was wearing down the wet puddled driveway. “And I’m currently searching for a reason I might want to kidnap a handful of ache ridden adolescents other than to use as live specimens for my trainee healers.”

Ignan was trying to suppress his anger and Miranda had learned from past experience to avoid it. She frowned and spoke once more as they neared the entrance, her voice more serious. “If I’d have anticipated being frisked and questioned on arrival I’d not have disturbed you.”

"… searching for a reason I might want to kidnap a handful of acne-ridden adolescents other than to use as live specimens for my trainee healers."
"Hmm." Ignan had been pondering much the same thing intermittently since yesterday afternoon when he had heard.

“If I’d have anticipated being frisked and questioned on arrival I’d not have disturbed you.” Ignan sighed and shook his head.
"Have to be seen to be keeping the borders closed, even if the Ministry has sent us idiots."

He let go of her hand and gestured backwards through the dark and rain. "The disturbance is welcomed. I'm sorry I didn't manage to meet you to see the house. For obvious reasons I've been unable to leave." Remembering himself, and the distance between them and the gates helping to curb his irritation, Ignan dropped his hood to kiss Miranda gently, before holding open the door to the entrance hall and letting her into the dry.

The pair shook their cloaks and the Professor extended his wand to wordlessly dry them off, realising how he really did feel grateful to see Miranda's face. She was one person outside of this wretched situation who would be able to put things in perspective and entertain his thoughts on matters without an air of blame to her responses.

Behind Miranda the staff room door opened and shut, people bustling in and out, not just professors but governors and the odd Ministry busybody. The pair received a few nods of acknowledgement, but were not approached, owing to Ignan's glares.

"Let's go upstairs. We'll be interrupted for sure elsewhere. How was it, by the way - the house?"

For obvious reasons Ignan had been unable to leave the school to come and see a possible future home with his wife. As Miranda shook off her cloak, she glanced up at her husband, expression plain so it wasn’t evident if she was joking or being serious as she said “I knew you’d use it as an excuse.”

They were stood in the quiet entrance hall that was grandly decorated for a valentines day Miranda would have been surprised if they celebrated. Bright pinks and reds offended the eyes of the witch stood in a long black dress, black heels, black glasses and nearly black hair scraped into a bun. Various witches and wizards walked past them into the staffroom while students milled about, a few casting surprised looks at their deputy headmaster and his wife. They all left the couple alone.

In response to his suggestion to go somewhere more private, Miranda nodded. She didn’t, however, say a word about the house until they were climbing the steps of the grand staircase.

“I liked it,” The healer finally told her husband as they approached his rooms and he opened the door for her. “Or rather, we liked it.” A smirk accompanied a shrug as the witch walked into the room, putting some space between herself and the wizard who was possibly going to get quite angry. “I was rather cross with you for not bothering to show up so I did the rational thing and bought the house.”

“I’ll take you to see it when your students have finished their hide and seek game.”

Ignan gave his wife a strange look in response to her suggestion that the kidnapping of fourteen students was an excuse. If it was a joke, their shared sense of humour wasn't shared that evening at all by Ignan. Whereas most things he could smirk off with a joke from Miranda, he'd spent the last twenty-four hours being quizzed at why such an event could have occurred.

"I liked it,"
"Good."
"… rather we liked it." Ignan frowned, wondering if she had taken Maya with her on the visit for a moment. She was looking far too smug with that shrug as she stepped into his rooms on the first floor.

He shut the door firmly behind them.
"We?"

"I was rather cross with you for not bothering to show up so I did the rational thing and bought the house." Miranda had taken a few paces across the room away from him he noticed as he turned back to her.

"You what?"
"I'll take you to see it when your students have finished their hide and seek game."

The Deputy Headmaster stared at Miranda with incredulity. Was she serious that she'd put in an offer for the house she'd seen? She thought it was a good time to come and tell him this? Was she doing this because she wanted to move incredibly quickly after Musgrave's break-in? Or was this ridiculous attempt to lift his spirits?

"Much as I trust your judgement in general, Miranda, that is entirely presumptuous." Ignan was trying his best to keep a lid on his anger which had been simmering all day. He abruptly dropped his cloak over the back of the high-backed armchair nearest the door. Two sat before his fireplace, normally enough to seat all the guests ever invited in.

"You know I would have been there had circumstances allowed." He glared across the room, one hand gripping his cloak and the chair beneath it. "You were clearly impressed by it to gamble on it. Unless this is another impulsive purchase?"

Unsure of the reaction she’d receive for what she had to tell Ignan, Miranda had already set a suitable distance between herself and her husband. She stood back, watching him grasp the top of the armchair and try to control a bubbling anger which had undoubtedly been brewing all day. Ignan liked and was used to control and by losing a handful of oily teenagers, he’d lost it. Of course he was angry and frustrated, Miranda had gone through similar upon waking to hear of her hospital’s troubles back in December.

“I married you impulsively, don’t forget that.” Miranda eyed Ignan carefully.


Ignan didn’t look any closer to calming and being a reasonable person, so Miranda rolled her eyes with a sigh.
“Oh calm yourself before you rupture an artery.” The healer spoke, irritation and a lack of patience in her voice. “The fact is you weren’t there and you didn’t owl; I liked the house and didn’t want to lose it. I was impressed but I wasn’t stupid, old man.”

No longer bothering with a distance, Miranda stepped closer, dropping into the seat Ignan hadn’t claimed with his hand, and crossing her legs.
“It’s really very beautiful. 6 bedrooms, lots of room for guests, a big garden for the hippogriff family and it even comes complete with a ghost grumpy enough to rival you.”

“I married you impulsively, don’t forget that.”

There was a twitch from her husband after that statement. Miranda did act on impulse, he knew that, but his decision to ask her to marry him had been a longer decision, considered for some time. He was a lot more thoughtful and considered about such decisions. The reiteration that she had married him impulsively - on a whim - irritated him more than the house did. It suggested in that moment that she wasn’t serious about things - that she might in turn drop him. At that moment, after the day or so of trying to think calmly and strategically about the disappearance of fourteen students in his care, albeit collectively, Ignan’s temper was about to boil over. The stare he gave Miranda and the way he set his jaw was clear indication.

“Oh calm yourself before you rupture an artery... old man.” In a rare moment at attempting restraint rather than snapping at Miranda, Ignan began to count to ten in his mind while she took a seat. Her sarcastic description of the place was lost as he let go of the back of the armchair and walked away, behind the one she had chosen to sit in and helped himself to a glass of firewhiskey, without offering it or pouring another. The chink of glass gave it away easily.

“Then in return do not forget that I did not ask you impulsively.” He spoke at last, setting down the glass on his desk beneath the window. He pinched his nose. There was a tension headache building, which was not surprising given everything that was going on. “Miranda, do you get particular pleasure in goading me when I am conducting my professional duties in a crisis?” He asked sharply. He couldn’t see Miranda other than her feet crossed towards the fireplace, as he was stood behind her, but he imagined a smug grin. “I appreciate we ordinarily share a somewhat sadistic sense of humour, but what little tact you possess you certainly left at home.”

The older wizard steadily negotiated a path between the two armchairs. His wand found his hand for a moment to rekindle the fire in the grate before he turned and stood before it, hands in his trouser pockets, looking weary, but alert.
“The three bedrooms, modest garden and ghoul-free aspect suitably impressed you, then.” He fixed his wife with a level stare, "It was on the way out of Hogsmeade, yes?”

The twitch of a single facial muscle said a thousand words and Ignan Storm’s muscles had morphed, displaying an anger he struggled not to release in a tirade at the wife that was quite clearly goading him for a reaction. He didn’t speak, he only scowled before deciding to move past her and help himself (not her) to a drink. Mira said nothing about the fact she could be currently dying of thirst or a severe need for firewhiskey. She wasn’t here to cause her husband to lose it and flip out; that hadn’t exactly been the plan.

“Then in return do not forget that I did not ask you impulsively.”

She’d offended him, prodded the beast and he was struggling not to lose his temper. When asked why she’d come, she found herself unsure if she’d meant to anger him more. Her intention had more been to explain her own irritation with him yet she had a strange feeling of remembering a previous time in this office where she’d come to visit with the wrong motivations[1]. That was before the couple had entered into holy matrimony.

“I appreciate we ordinarily share a somewhat sadistic sense of humour, but what little tact you possess you certainly left at home.” The wizard himself suddenly wasn’t pulling any punches.

“Ouch…” The witch whispered; it wasn’t clear if she was offended. With her husband now beside the fireplace, Mira could see more clearly the lines etched into his features, weary, tired, angry. He asked about the house and she took a slow breath as she stood from her chair.

“It was.” She stepped closer to him and the fireplace. “I didn’t come to goad you, I came because...” she paused, thinking back, looking away for a moment, “I worry for you, 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[2].” She decided to quote her husband before shrugging, “And…you didn’t even bother to owl.” Her eyebrow was raised, a pointed look at her husband before her expression softened and she offered a hand out to his.

1.	The Brave Masseuse
2.	Because I Care

“I didn’t come to goad you, I came because… I worry for you, 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.”
“Hmm…”
“And…you didn’t even bother to owl.”

Neither of them did apologies very well if at all, or reacted well to the other looking out for them. Ignan suspected that Miranda had come to poke a bit at him. She was so very keen to find somewhere else to live that his absence at the viewing had irritated her and made her more determined. Even finding out the reason for his absence hadn’t taken the wind from her sails. It was entirely her though, he thought to himself, but relented. He had no energy to also be angry with someone who did give a shit about him in this situation - however small and however twisted it was that she showed it. His hand took her proffered one and gave it a squeeze. Ignan’s shoulders raised and lowered with a sigh.

“First mate.” He corrected. Minerva was the Captain. “Though I appreciate what you mean. And no, I didn’t owl. By the time I realised I had missed our agreed time, writing what had happened seemed over dramatic until the newspaper published this morning. You would probably not have believed me.” He lifted her hand in his and kissed her knuckles gently, though he was visibly distracted by his own thoughts rather than fully attentive to his wife. “Bloody teenagers. Why does anyone want a random selection of Hogwarts teenagers? It doesn’t make any sense.”

The Deputy Headmaster propped his elbow on the mantle of the fireplace which came just short of his shoulder and stared into the flames, lowering Miranda’s hand, not letting go of it. “Do you ever heed the advice and prophecy of seers?” He asked wearily.

Calming the beast had been relatively easy, Miranda pondered as his lips brushed her knuckles and he gave in to her. Despite the fact that his words didn’t say as much, he evidently knew he was in the wrong to get wound up by her. He was also in the wrong to not have owled. Mira held back from her barrage of irritation and frustration over having been thrown into the position of abandoned wife insisting her husband would soon show up. In no way had he had his comeuppance yet, it would come when he wasn’t expecting it. Excuses of missing children was no excuse for failing to owl ahead. Miranda didn’t enjoy waiting for anyone, even if that anyone was her husband.

Unable to answer the question of why anyone would kidnap a handful of spotty children, Miranda simply stood beside Ignan, staring into the fire herself. Despite it being his livelihood and responsibility, she didn’t want to dwell on it. She was instead rather more concerned about their own future in the new house she’d found. The children would show up sooner or later. There was nothing she could do.

“Do you ever heed the advice and prophecy of seers?”The question caused the witch’s brow to rise and her eyes to shoot up to meet his, wide in surprise and half amusement. She blinked, trying to discern if the question had actually come from her spouse or if she’d imagined it.

He actually looked serious.
“I heed the advice of textbooks and facts. I don’t even trust the advice of aurors.” Miranda smirked and let go of Ignan’s hand. She walked to the sideboard where he’d thoughtlessly poured himself a drink. “Have you eaten? I could murder rabbit stew right now. I’ve not eaten since this morning. My assistant went out and brought me back a pumpkin pie for lunch. She’s pissed off with me for some reason.” Miranda was allergic to pumpkins. Her assistant knew this.

“I heed the advice of textbooks and facts. I don’t even trust the advice of aurors.”
“Mm.”

Ignan thought as much, he was much the same until now, and here he doubted. Now he felt foolish for dismissing reported visions or prophecy or whatever it had all been from Maiko. He felt like an ignorant old man who had blindly followed his own narrow-minded ideals and allowed fourteen students to vanish. But even then, could one prevent events that had become predicted and inevitabilities? Either way, he hated being wrong. However stubborn he could be in leading his colleagues and how he dismissed their more lenient notions, he did respect Maiko, even if he scoffed at her profession and suggested it was weakness in a student.

“Have you eaten? I could murder rabbit stew right now… ... She’s pissed off with me for some reason.”

It wasn’t until a few seconds after Miranda had stopped talking, that her husband realised she’d spoken at all. He was reconsidering his past decisions and also mulling over what tied together fourteen students other than their chance location around a Honeydukes assistant. It had to be a random selection.

“You tend to do that to people.” He replied without further hesitation, even if he had no idea who Miranda had been referring to. “And no, I haven’t. If you’re staying Gerda would oblige.” Of course she wasn’t staying that long. Just enough to irritate him. It was Miranda’s way of saying she missed him. “Has the seller had any other offers to buy?” Ignan asked, turning away from the fire to spot that Miranda had helped herself to a drink. It didn’t bother him, but as much as he wanted another he knew he had to keep a straight head.

Unaccustomed to her every word not being listened to, Miranda found her lips pursing in mild disapproval at her husband. He was obviously distracted and she was demanding his attention; perhaps she wasn’t suited to married life anymore… rather, just not used to it.

She tended to do that to people…
Eyebrows narrowed as she stared at the wizard over her glasses. If she was staying Gerda would oblige. Miranda could take a hint and she quickly drained her tumbler, placed it back on the sideboard.

In response to the question, she wasn’t sure whether to answer completely truthfully or to spin a yarn of nontruths to stop him further questioning her buying decision without him.
“We were booked in to view it before anyone else even knew it was for sale.” She said honestly, pointedly. Upon realising that she did perhaps need to reign herself in from being too harsh on the poor wizard who’d been dealing with enough stress, Miranda sighed and watched her husband with a far softer expression.

“I really like it, Ignan. It’s perfect and close to here so we can actually live together. It’s empty so we wouldn’t have to wait…” The witch took a breath and moved closer to her husband. “We’ll talk about it in a few days when your mind hopefully isn’t as occupied.”

“I really like it, Ignan. It’s perfect and close to here so we can actually live together. It’s empty so we wouldn’t have to wait…” At the change in tone, Ignan looked up properly from the fire and blinked slowly, his brow easing. “We’ll talk about it in a few days when your mind hopefully isn’t as occupied.”

“Hopefully,” he agreed softly, with the slightest of nods. He didn’t apologise for his distraction, feeling it was perfectly legitimate in the serious circumstances. “If the governors don’t find reason to give a vote of no confidence.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Like my wife, I’ve a tendency to piss people off.” There was the ghost of a smirk on his features - the closest she might get to an apology for the blunt comment a moment before.

“Sure you can stand me being at home more often?” It was rhetorical, almost good humoured - they’d spent the summer living together quite pleasantly with Ignan not at work, but Miranda working her usual hours. If he was home on a night then perhaps she would find reason to be home too. An old wizard could hope. It was a comforting thought that felt like a distant future at that second even for all the news of offers on the house. If fourteen students didn’t reappear, there would be more serious ramifications for him as Deputy Headmaster, acting in Minerva’s absence.

“Gerda?” He spoke aside to Miranda, looking across his modest staff chambers. It took a moment for the elf to appear, all wide-eyed, one ear more pricked than the other. She looked from her master to her mistress and back again, awaiting orders. “Rabbit stew?” Ignan asked to Miranda, confirming that was indeed what she had said.

“I’ll find a way to cope.” Miranda said in response to Ignan’s questioning of her standing him at home more often. The reality was that their paths wouldn’t cross as often as most couples regardless of a change in living conditions. Miranda kept odd hours, working when was needed and as something to occupy her mind while Ignan had a large amount of responsibilities at the school. They weren’t destined to enjoy large amounts of free time together until they retired and no longer had a wish to work. Miranda wasn’t sure it would ever happen to her. She greatly enjoyed and appreciated work.

With the appearance of Gerda, Miranda frowned, considering whether she wanted to stay and linger with the wizard lost in his own thoughts and stressed. With her current attitude she was more than aware of her state as more of a hindrance than a help.

“I’ll take it at home, Gerda.” The witch glanced to her husband. “You look haggared. Rest.” She stepped up close and her lips gently brushed his. “Healer’s orders.” With that, a hand rested on the house elf and she looked down. “Can you apparate me out of here or is it the rain for me again?”