In my defense, I really did not think it would take me so long to get back to this fic. It's mostly just going to be lighthearted nonsense.

This fic is now officially also MiraMard, and Private Documents is a direct prequel.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail

Mirajane polished the countertop vigorously, putting far more elbow grease into it than strictly necessary. There was nothing else she needed to do at the moment, so she was dragging the task out as long as possible. For once she stopped, she'd have to contend with the emptiness and lack of customers without her book – which of course she'd forgotten at home that morning. She wondered if Lucy would mind if she poked her head upstairs and borrowed one from her shelf...

Before the thought could truly gain any traction, Mirajane spotted a darkened form moving beyond the foggy glass windows. A bell tingled over the door as a man swathed in a coat and scarf and clutching a black briefcase in his gloved hands swept into the coffeeshop with a small entourage of fallen snow.

"Good evening!" Mirajane greeted, smiling her best, most professional smile. It soon blossomed into a genuine one as the man unwound the scarf from his shoulders, shaking out snowflakes from his long, black hair. "Professor Geer! Good to see you again. As you can see, we're packed, but I made sure to reserve your favorite spot for you."

The man snorted at her joking comment, hanging up his coat and scarf on the nearby stand to dry. "Been like this all day I take it." He seated himself down in what was less booth and more of a walled off area with cushioned seats. There were more open areas for customers to sit in, but Mard Geer always chose a spot that gave him a physical barrier between him and the rest of humanity.

Leaving off her abuse of the counter, Mirajane wiped her hands off before grabbing her notepad and pen. Emerging from behind the counter, she made her way to where the professor was seated. "Can't be helped. It's winter break as of today, right?" At his answering nod, she continued, "Most students are probably headed straight home, and not too many of the regulars want to brave the snow." She giggled. "Well… all but one regular, anyway."

"I like it better when it's quiet," Mard admitted. "I figured that so long as there was electricity, this place would be open." After a moment of intense, internal debate, he added, "And that you would be here."

He wasn't wrong. The owner rarely closed the store, and since Mirajane was the only full-time employee and working to put her two siblings through college… it meant that she was there near constantly. Still, the professor's statement was… really sweet. Color suffusing her cheeks, she laughed brightly. "Well, I'm glad to have you here! So what can I get you to start with?"

Long experience gathered over the two years Mard had been frequenting the establishment meant that Mirajane knew Mard would be holed up with her until closing time. Which was rarely a problem, she had to admit to herself. He was good, quiet company, and when he felt inclined to chat he was an entertaining conversationalist.

"Any new specials?" he asked.

"Got some new peppermint flavor in just this morning before the snow hit. I could whip something up with that." She'd run out of the popular flavor fast with winter's onslaught. Honestly, it wasn't something she fully understood. There was enough winter outside, why have it in your mouth as well?

"Sugar-free as well?"

"You know it."

"I'll have a peppermint eggnog, then."

"Be back with that shortly!" Mirajane promised.

As she whisked away, Mard laid his briefcase on the table. After a moment of struggle with the latch, he sighed in defeat and removed his gloves before attempting the task again. Although he had been within the warm confines of the coffeeshop for a little while, the clasps were still bitingly cold from his excursion out into the snow-covered city. With a snap, they popped open. Withdrawing a stack of papers from within along with several red pens, he set them before him and closed the briefcase once more.

Time to get to work.

Mard sometimes wondered why he ever decided that teaching was the career for him. It was better at the collegiate level, it was true, but at the same time it was somehow worse because he expected more from his students by the time they reached his courses and was always severely disappointed. Somewhere along the line, their previous teachers had failed to instill in them a basic understanding of proper punctuation nor the desire to learn such. It made reading over their essays physically painful.

The midterms in his immediate grasp, however, would hopefully prove to be less of a migraine. By this point they had a decent grasp of how to fill in multiple choice bubbles, and the analysis portions were short enough that Mard could go over them rapidly.

That being said. He really, really was not looking forward to reaching Sting Eucliffe's. A year of classes with the young man, and professor was nearing his limit in terms of tolerance. This was getting ridiculous. But at least with the break, he would be getting a two week reprieve from his irritating student.

It wasn't long before Mirajane brought him his drink. Silently, he passed her a book that had also been inside his briefcase.

Beaming at him, she took the book with immensely heartfelt thanks. Then she retreated to behind the counter, and opened it up.

Mard was already halfway through his stack of midterms and his second drink – this time hot cider – when the next customers finally arrived. The bell over the door barely registered in his periphery, but a moment later an all-too familiar voice fully captured his attention. He stiffened, and withdrew a little further into the booth.

"Hey, Rogue… does that coat look familiar to you?"

What in the world was Eucliffe doing at Mard's quiet refuge place?!

"It looks like a coat, Sting," a second voice stated.

"Welcome!" Mirajane greeted the new customers, drawing their attention away from Mard's belongings. "How can I help you?"

"Oh. Uh… Hello," came Sting's eloquent response. "Table for three, I guess. Gal named Lucy said to ask for Mirajane…?"

"I'm Mirajane. So… you two know Lucy?" Mard could practically see the mischievous gleam in Mirajane's blue eyes.

"In a… manner of speaking…" Rogue stated, somewhat hesitantly.

Sting picked up where Rogue left off with zero reservations of his own. "Found her up a tree and then she fell on us. Said she'd treat us to coffee as an apology."

Mard's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and he imagined that Mirajane's were doing much the same. "This is a story I need to hear more about!" the waitress declared.

The professor found himself reluctantly agreeing. Content to eavesdrop, he took a sip of his cider. This was bound to be good.