Ignan could really appreciate the effort his wife had gone to and shower her with love and affection that evening when their guests had vacated the small cottage.


It was a gamble the witch was willing to take, wanting to celebrate a birthday she’d been quite convinced he wouldn’t make it to. It was special, the first one they could celebrate as a married couple. The first one to celebrate after he’d nearly died. It had to be right and she didn’t care if Ignan wanted this. He had no choice.

It was a Saturday so the couple had risen later than usual. Ignan had washed and dressed, leaving for the castle after having some breakfast. Miranda hadn’t once mentioned his birthday, acting as if she’d forgotten; a believable likelihood. Of course, Camille had come through, setting up something only the Deputy Headmaster could deal with that morning which allowed for his wife to ensure that everything was perfect.

By 11:30 everything was set up, the charm in the garden preventing the rain and keeping the warmth in. A large table was set out with a high chair for her granddaughter at one end. Gerda was busy in the kitchen and Miranda was fussing over the table, making sure everything was perfect.

It was as Miranda was placing a gift on the table where Ignan would sit that a small child suddenly came running into the garden, screaming “Mormormormormor!”

“Kjære.” The witch bent down, grabbing the toddler and, with a heave, lifted her into the air to hug. “My darling girl! Don’t you look beautiful!”

“She insisted for grana” Maya came out into the garden with a smile but raised eyebrows. “He made quite the impression, Ma.”

“Didn’t he just.”
With a *pop*, Gerda appeared in the garden.
“The door, Mistress.”

Maya had arrived to help earlier and she’d just gotten Katrine changed into her party outfit. Her granddaughter still in her arms, Miranda went back into the house, through the kitchen and to their front door where she pulled it open.
“No grana!” the little girl shook her head, dark curls bouncing. Miranda shifted, balancing her better on her hip as dark eyes fell to the doorstep.
“Nope. No grana yet.”

Standing on the front stoop, Sasha couldn't help but fidget nervously as he waited for the door to swing open.  Reminders of his first (and last) visit to this address had been shadowing starting at his new flat, in the form of the little bonsai tree that was growing happily on the corner of his desk.  The desk sat square in front of the fireplace so passing the diminutive tree was an inevitable roadside attraction on the journey from Cambridge to Hogsmeade by way of the floo network. 

Now, as he waited for the door to open, Sasha couldn't help but hope that Gerda would be the one standing behind it.  Or, maybe, the door would just swing open on it's own accord; the wizarding equivalent of 'just come on in.'  Anything, but a potential repeat of the initial door-in-the-face that had marked the start of his last visit. 

Thankfully, the little girl cradled in her arm was enough cognitive dissonance to minimize the flaring of nerves when Mrs. Storm answered the door.  Still, Sasha couldn't prevent himself from clearing his throat nervously. 

“No grana!”
"Nope. No grana yet."

Sasha grinned and shook his head.  "I ... ja, no.  I'm not a grana.  I don't think."  He wasn't sure what a grana was but could only assume he wasn't one.  He shifted the two gifts he was carrying to extend a free arm to the witch, offering a polite, "thank you, again, for the invitation, ma'am."  The two gifts, the unwrapped bottle of Canadian whiskey from his last trip (after being surprised to find he couldn't buy the same down in the States) and the wrapped clock that he hoped to give to Gerda and to bypass  Mrs. Storm, fit relatively comfortably in one arm thanks to the larger-on-the-inside gift box. 

He cast a curious glance at the little girl in her arms.  Had he missed something during his last visit?  He'd only seen a portion of the small house, but evidence of small children was rarely contained to one room.  Had it been magically concealed?  "Who is this?  Is she ..."  He couldn't think of a safe way to end the question. 

Of course, it was Sasha at the door first.

Miranda was doubtlessly going to regret her decision to host a birthday lunch.

The boy smiled and Miranda tried to return the smile, mostly so for Katrine’s sake. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. Sasha Schlagenweit remained a sore subject in the Storm household despite how much she’d tried to manage her feelings. Ignan having lied to her about having a child and the unplanned meeting still set the witch on edge. Inviting him here was a big step towards the necessary adjustment.

“Sasha.” The witch greeted with a nod as Katrine stared with wide eyes at the stranger.
"Who is this?  Is she ..."
“…my granddaughter.” She finished his question with her own statement. “Katrine. My daughter’s inside.” She took a step back before frowning and turning back to the boy. “What did you try and gift me last time you came, Sasha?” It was a decidedly awkward question; not because Miranda felt guilty for her reaction, but that Ignan had been decidedly displeased with her reaction.

With the correct answer, however, Mira nodded and waved him inside. “Come in.”

“Oh wow!” Maya appeared from the kitchen as the tall younger wizard was allowed entry. “This is him, Ma?” Dark eyes so similar to her those of her mother swept over Sasha and she grinned. “Spawn of the demon headmaster…” she unashamedly made a muggle reference and ignored the glare from the older witch.

He didn’t look like Ignan Storm. Not that anyone else could really look like the grumpy old man that her mother had chosen to commit her life to. Why anyone would choose such a wizard remained beyond Maya’s comprehension. She still suspected the wizard had sizeable savings.

“Sasha the secret son.” The witch’s grin only widened as she gave the German wizard absolutely no choice about receiving a hug.
“I’m Maya, the one she has no chance of hiding.” Maya winked as she stepped back. "Spawn of Satan apparently."

He was half-tempted to offer to wait outside until others arrived, assuming others were going to be arriving.  There were going to be others, right?  Sasha glanced over his shoulder, in the hopes that friendlier faces had since appeared at the foot of the walkway.  For now, though, the walkway appeared empty.  And, Mrs. Storm was speaking to him.   

"Your granddaughter?" Sasha repeated, feeling a sudden rush of sympathy for the child's mother.  He could guess what that must have felt like. 

“What did you try and gift me last time you came, Sasha?”

He could feel the warmth rushing to his face.  "I ... it was a bonsai tree," he offered before, with another glance towards the pathway, stepping inside.  Thankfully, he was greeted by a much more welcoming (and oddly familiar-looking) face. 

“Oh wow!  This is him, Ma?  Spawn of the demon headmaster…”

The blush deepened slightly and Sasha grinned, glanced towards Mrs. Storm only to find a dark glare on the older witch's face and quickly turned his attention back to the younger.  He was surprised and intrigued by the rather muggle reference.  "Ja.  I'm Sasha Schlagenweit," he offered, confirming his name and extending a free hand to the greet Maya properly.  Only to find himself wrapped up in a hug. 

"I like to think of it more as being the spawn of a sith lord.  I just haven't found my twin sister, yet," he offered, curious how far her knowledge of muggle culture went.  "It's a pleasure to meet you.  And, Katrine."  He looked back towards the youngster in Mrs. Storm's arm.  He was starting to have vague recollections of Professor Storm mentioning Katrine, but he wasn't sure about the validity of the memory. 

"Sounds like we're an interesting couple of spawns, then," he added.  "Is there somewhere I can put these down?" he gestured with the gifts, directing the question at Maya rather then Mrs. Storm. 

Behind Sasha, and beyond the front garden gate of the tiny cottage Miranda had chosen for her and her husband in Hogsmeade, appeared a figure. On closer inspection in the wake of the crack of apparition, it was not one figure but two so closely entwined it was easy to mistake. Especially as neither wizard paid any attention to the open front door full of three generations of witches, nor the bewildered son on the doorstep.

“We made it,” Johann smiled soppily at Balfour, their arms around each other’s waists, “Second outfits, and just about on time…”

The trouble with getting dressed was that it could be more fun to get undressed, which was the state the pair had been in consistently since getting back home from their eventful ‘date’ the night before. They’d barely been out of each other’s sight or reach for over twelve hours, and it was enough to nauseate the house elves, who had literally seen everything over the years of working for the Spectre family.

Leaning back from the kiss he’d been unable to stop himself placing on his husband-to-be’s lips, Johann finally realised other people were within fifteen feet of them, and wrenched his gaze from Balfour’s to greet them.

“Hello!” He beamed at the four of them, as this was the best party he could ever be about to attend, and they were the most wonderful people in the world. “He’s not here yet, hopefully?” No sign of a sour-faced, silver-haired birthday boy, which meant that his mother probably wasn’t there yet either. He slid his arms from Balfour’s waist, and clasped his left in Balfour’s right, unlatching the gate and leading them through onto the path behind Sasha.

“Alright Sasha,” between clasped hands, and the fact the younger wizard was holding gifts, it wasn’t the moment to sweep him into the hug he was due, “Miranda,” he gave Katrine and Maya his best, bright, boyish smile, “Maya, pleasure to see you out of London, you know my f- Balfour, don’t you?” He gestured to his fiancé, deciding not to announce it sneakily right then. “Balfour, this is Maya, Miranda’s daughter.” It was the first time the family would properly be together, of sorts, and it was best to form solidarity before Ignan decided he hated surprises.

Gods, have their ever been happier men than them? Balfour was in such an intolerably good mood from last night's events that he didn't even mind them having to put on clothes (of all things) and take part in the risky undertaking of a surprise party. He wasn't just pleasant, he was smitten. His half-lidded gaze was full of tender love, and his broad smile of barely sated lust. Johann kissed him. His own lips tingled with the memory of being pressed against sticky warm skin, murmuring my husband, my husband like a prayer to his lover's salacious form.

But then they were in the present. Other people existed. Lovely, chatty people. The two wizards attended to reality, holding hands and conveying exuberant greetings.

"Miranda!" Balfour grinned at the older witch before he approached the others, "You look wonderful." He always felt a bit sympathetic towards her, in spite of her poor grasp of names, as she had very nearly lost Ignan earlier this year. Without missing a beat,  Johann introduced him to the stranger who had already arrived. A young witch with a pretty smile and - ah, so the little one must be Mira's granddaughter Katrine.

He extended his free hand towards Maya. "Pleasure to finally meet you," he cheerfully professed. They were all a part of his family! Well, had been before, but it felt official now that they both sported engagement rings. Balfour glanced at Sasha, winking. They had met last month to discuss level four matters. It was nice seeing the young man under less serious circumstances.

"Are we going to yell surprise and all that, when Ignan arrives?" he glanced from the hostess to his partner, squeezing Johann's hand affectionately.

Whatever a Sith lord was, Maya didn’t seem to understand it. Instead she pointed to the coffee table where he could deposit his presents.

“Mor mor mor.” Neither mother nor grandmother were aware of whether Katrine was referring to Miranda or the couple arriving at the still open front door. Regardless, Maya reached arms out to take her toddler from her mother because Miranda appeared already decidedly uncomfortable with the amount of people entering her small cottage.

Johann, Maya had met the odd time at the ministry. He’d introduced himself back when her mother had randomly married the old man. He seemed nicer; nicer than his uncle (or was it cousin?) at least. And his Balfour? Well she’d seen him about but never spoken to him. Hadn’t her mother called him ‘Balfort’? Dark eyes took him in and she smiled.

Balfour offered a hand and Maya ignored it, instead choosing to pull the large and muscular man in for a hug.
“And I’m an Elliot that will remember your name.” Maya smirked at the wizard when she pulled back.

"Are we going to yell surprise and all that, when Ignan arrives?"

“This isn’t a fancy dress party.” Miranda responded calmly yet evidently unimpressed by the suggestion.

“Nah. Don’t wanna give the old man a heart attack and put him in hospital again, do we? How old now, Ma? 70?”

“Ask him when he gets here?”

“I am grateful for the fresh air and the walk,” Camille insisted, gripping her cousin’s arm just above the elbow, walking close together to be beneath his umbrella charm. “And for your assistance this morning. Goodness, Saturday detentions so early in term.” A second year living in the school through term brought responsibilities in return for lodging. One of the ones she liked the least (after the peril of walking in on students misusing empty classrooms at curfew on her patrol) was supervising Saturday detention. She was far too nice and the students knew it. Cousin Ignan was entirely the opposite. Given he no longer lived at school since Miranda made the decision to move their home to Hogsmeade, his appearance in the castle at weekends heralded something serious, even to students.

Being assigned a Saturday detention supervision had thrown a spanner in Camille and Miranda’s plan but Camille had instead managed to make out she needed to be shown the ropes and was a little under the weather to lure Ignan up to the castle. She suspected he didn’t entirely buy it, especially now she was making him walk from the castle to the little Hogsmeade cottage under the pretence she wasn’t up to apparating, and was only coming by to see Miranda for social reasons. She’d not even mentioned or hinted it was his birthday, though neither had he. It was a good game, and she’d be lying if she wasn’t a little thrilled. It was that or the fact she would get to see her son and future son-in-law! Johann had proposed! Another thing she hadn’t mentioned to Ignan, as she was sure he’d consider it highly suspicious she wasn’t up in Edinburgh.

“Do you often walk, or do you always apparate from the gates?” Camille asked, taking it upon herself to make small talk, hoping she had delayed them suitably for Miranda’s plan.

“In better weather,” Ignan agreed, looking up to the drizzly sky above them. He was looking forward to getting home and changing out of his boots and damp cloak. It was more his weekday work attire and he rather more valued his weekends given the events in Spring. It would not be long until he had to have the runes carved again, and he was not looking forward to the process at all, even if they were keeping him alive.

He didn’t blame his family for not marking his birthday. He didn’t mention it, Miranda hadn’t even known when it was last year, and he hated a fuss. Still, one of them normally remembered and sent a card. This year the post had brought nothing, and not even Miranda or Gerda, their house elf, had mentioned it. He had thought to mention it to protest summons to Hogwarts, but he had wanted to take the opportunity to also make sure he was happy with the state of Greyfriar’s full moon cell in the forest. He hadn't yet opened a parcel waiting for him at Hogwarts, though he didn't immediately recognise the handwriting.

Maybe by the time he got back, Mira would have remembered.

But after continuing smalltalk with cousin Camille, who he did tolerate if not like to a certain extent, but did not particularly enjoy prolonged conversation of little point with, it looked like normality. Their modest little cottage and front garden was wet from the rain and the front gate familiarly clattered as he opened it and held it politely for Camille.

“I’ll ask Gerda to put the kettle on,” he suggested, as she paused on the garden path with a little crooked smile. He didn’t notice it, busy turning his wand to charm the mud from the forest from the soles of his boots before he opened the front door. The sight behind it stopped him in his tracks, blue eyes startled open, and mouth agape in surprise.

Sasha glanced over his shoulder when he heard his cousin’s familiar voice and offered a grin.  “Good to see you and Mr. - Balfour,” he offered, catching himself. 

It was the first time Sasha had properly seen Johann and Balfour together, apart from the social confines of the Hogwarts career fair.  Which hardly counted, given the general expectation of professional behavior on the part of booth-sitters (if not all students).  He certainly didn’t know Balfour well enough to be able to surmise any comparisons, but his cousin certainly seemed to be sporting a brighter and livelier air.  If that was the effect Balfour had on Johann, then Sascha was even happier to be seeing them together. 

“It’s good to see you,” Sasha offered Johann in return, stepping to the side as his cousin introduced Balfour to Maya. 

As they exchanged pleasantries, Sasha took the opportunity to give them space and move over to the coffee table.  He set the gifts down, sparing a moment to fuss with the cards and wrapping before returning to the group. 

Sasha cast a glance in Miranda’s direction when she expressed her disapproval of Balfour’s suggestion.  He was only half-tempted to point out that yelling surprise wasn’t usually considered a ‘fancy dress party’ activity but he refrained.  Instead, he shrugged and grinned in Balfour’s direction.  “I suppose we could say it quietly,” Sasha offered as a non-heartattack-inducing alternative. 

“No, he’s si-“ Sasha started to correct Maya, but cut himself off when Miranda suggested asking him.  He had been curious and had checked the family album his father had given him for Christmas, almost two years before.  He’d assumed, if he knew, then everyone else would but that evidently wasn’t the case.  Sasha cast Maya an apologetic grin just as the door opened and the last two of the party arrived. 

Assuming they were at least going for the traditional, Sasha offered a bright “Happy Birthday!"

“Are we going to yell surprise and all that, when Ignan arrives?” Balfour asked. Johann chuckled lightly, and squeezed back. He was most amused at the way Maya had pulled Balfour into a hug. She obviously found Balfour as huggable as he did on sight.
“This isn’t a fancy dress party.” Miranda chimed in, being more serious and not getting the joke.
“Nah. Don’t wanna give the old man a heart attack and put him in hospital again, do we? How old now, Ma? 70?”
“Ask him when he gets here?”

Ok, so that was sarcasm from Miranda. Nobody would dare ask.

“I suppose we could say it quietly.” Sasha suggested, which only made Johann laugh more happily at the thought.

As it turned out, there wasn’t time to deliberate. Gerda popped into the middle of them all to announce her master’s appearance in the lane outside, and they quickly cast off cloaks and other things they had with them to be present for the door opening.

“Happy Birthday!”
“Surprise!” Johann cried, an arm around Balfour, great soppy grin on his face still.

In the doorway, their older relative had stopped dead, mouth agape, startled. Johann clocked the wand in Ignan’s hand though.
“Take cover, he’s armed!” he added jokingly, throwing his free arm up before his face in mock protection.

It was a relief to see that Maya, unlike her mother or step-father, was of a sunnier nature. Balfour laughed good-naturedly as she informed him after their hug that she would remember his name. He had all sorts of theories as to why Miranda was bad with names but he mostly suspected that she was too busy trying to remember proper Healer knowledge in the right order.

After chatting a bit about what they would say when Ignan arrived, the man in question pushed open the front door just a heartbeat after his wife suggested they ask him his age.

“Happy Birthday!”
            “Surprise!”

"Surprise!" Balfour echoed alongside his lover, sliding his arm around his waist while Johann's went over his shoulder - they could stand hip-to-hip this way. “Take cover, he’s armed!” mocked his beautiful fiancé and he laughed before shooting a wide grin at the older wizard. Camille was right behind him too.

The look on Ignan's face was absolutely priceless.

"Finally," Bal exclaimed in his confident voice and exchanged a glance with Maya and Sasha. "We can get this party started." As if though the most boisterous element of a gathering had arrived to really get it going.

Camille could tell that cousin Ignan was not adjusted to this smalltalk, nor the way she kept his pace steady by holding his arm. Hopefully he would forgive her once the big reveal occurred. A very small part of her had a horrible feeling he’d dislike this whole plan, but the majority believed that even the hardened, detached soul of Ignan would be warmed by a little family gathering in his honour. Miranda had suggested he was becoming quite the grandfather sort.

The chorus of voices inside the modest little cottage (named Kaldfjord after where Miranda and Ignan had married) was a joy to the ears. Camille’s features broke out into a bright smile at finally being able to relax and not pretend she was oblivious to Ignan’s birthday. It was incredibly difficult to lie to him!

“Sorry for the deception, cousin.” Camille patted his arm as she stepped in through the front door behind him. “Had to stall you, happy birthday.” She winked at Miranda and passed them by. If anyone could ensure he enjoyed himself, if was his wife. She would also contain any initial grump about being surprised.

“-can get this party started.” Balfour announced loudly amongst he kerfuffle. Now she could see Maya and Katrine, and Sasha here too. She hurriedly greeted each in turn, leaving kisses on their cheeks, and a tight hug for Sasha. Camille approached her towering boys with a knowing smile, and resisted the temptation to exchange kisses just yet until she demanded the most important information (past how old Ignan really was.)

“Well?” She asked them both in a low, but firm query, eyes bright. She hadn’t even taken her cloak off, Gerda the house elf was poised at her elbow to take it. At Johann and Balfour's expressions she widened her eyes and gestured with her hand to her empty ring finger. After all, she had been in on both plans. They were going to be showered with kisses and excited hugs. Her boy was going to get married!

If Miranda were to be totally honest, she would have admitted that she had absolutely no idea how Ignan would react to the surprise. As the front door opened once more, thoughts flashed through her mind. Ignan didn’t like surprises, they’d bought such a small house to avoid family visits and occasions, she’d not even acknowledged his birthday.

The main thought? He was a grumpy bastard.


There was a cacophony of well wishes and relief that the birthday boy had finally arrived. Miranda didn’t join the chorus, she simply watched her husband’s reaction, toddler still in her arms. Was he going to smile? Scowl? Hex someone?

Maya swooped in beside Miranda to take Katrine from her mother. No excuses now. With Camille having made a quick explanation before turning to her own son, Miranda moved towards Ignan, chosing to ignore any possible negative reaction. He’d enjoy the afternoon; and if he didn’t, he would bloody well pretend to.

“Happy Birthday, old man.” Hands moved to his and she reached up to place a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling back, she lingered near his ear. “I couldn’t ignore my husband actually making it to his next birthday.” She gave his hands a squeeze. This was as much for her as it was for the family around them.