Absit Omen RPG
Role-Play Boards => Diagon Alley => London => Carstairs/Bevans/Gamp Flat => Topic started by: Virgil Carstairs on October 14, 2019, 01:20:06 PM
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Evening
It was a Saturday night, and Virgil Carstairs (https://urstyle.com/styles/2303156) considered the joint of gillyweed he had yet to light. He was sprawled languidly across his bed[1] with a scattering of partially read books - each one open to somewhere in the middle, abandoned. His record player was spinning some muggle tune (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U16Xg_rQZkA) while he held the joint in question, pinched in the air between slender fingers.
January, contrary to calmer aspirations, had been a hectic month. He was relishing tonight: to be home and alone and to have no obligations whatsoever. Not actually alone, though. Nick was doing something Nick-ish in his room, probably, and Ari was busy writing up a game in hers.
Therefore effectively alone. Virgil slipped off the mattress and tucked his treasure behind his ear as he strode idly to the mirror. He was wearing a full face of make-up, lipstick and all, which had been diversion #1 from the reading he was supposed to do for Mysteries stuff. Gillyweed was diversion #2. Ringing up Anton was diversion #3 but he wasn't feeling that sensuous this evening.
"What a pretty little thing you are," he spoke to his reflection, hand on his hip and tilting his head to the side, trying on a coquettish pose. Ridiculous. Virgil giggled at himself and shook his head head - his cat, Dante, was under the bed, unimpressed, and she blinked slowly at his posturing.
The doorbell rang just as he was examining what looked like an emerging zit on his chin, and the wizard called out quickly. "I got it!" he yelled, dragging his feet out into the living room to see who had come calling - maybe it was Peyton, or their strange neighbour from downstairs with all the owls. Either way, someone he could talk into sharing a joint with him.
Virgil threw open the door with flourish, ready to speak, but instead found himself raising his perfectly drawn eyebrows in surprise. Oh. It was Fauna Blake. The witch[2] Fauna Blake.
"Hello," he crossed his arms, quickly pushing past the surprise, and leaned against the doorframe. "What's this?" his eyes danced a little. "You've come bearing gifts?"
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Fauna too, raised her eyebrows in surprise at Virgil when he opened the door. Her brows were imperfectly arched, her face bare. She wore one of her favorite holiday gifts - a Hunger Games mockingjay hoodie, and jeans. Though she felt well since getting her magic back, the January weather and events of the wolf moon had left her winter pale, her hair as dark as the black hoodie she wore and her eyes a striking blue.
Virgil stood as her opposite, his face painted with drama, much like it had at the New Year's Eve party. Was he in a celebratory mood? Would he let her paint a tiny star on his cheek, or light the gillyweed joint between his fingers?
He sounded confused.
"Did you get my - er, I sent you a memo?"
Brow furrowing, Fauna shifted the container of chocolate brownies in her arms. She'd added little starry sprinkles on top of the chocolate.
"Hey Virgil," she repeated for his benefit in an official memo-voice. "I'm ducking out early to make cookies or something. Reply only if you hate chocolate, though evidence suggests- oh shit, it's Saturday," her eyes widened and her voice went back to normal.
She'd been restless at the Ministry earlier, and had decided to pester Virgil via memo. Merlin knew they'd both had a crappy month. Unfortunately, Fauna had forgotten that normal people weren't in the office on Saturdays, only Hufflepuffs.
"Um, I can come back, you know, at a time when you're not - what are you up to?"
Fauna looked at him curiously, glancing over his shoulder in case Nicholas or Ari were there, and then glancing down the hall to plan a quick escape before her embarrassment caught up to her.
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"...only if you hate chocolate, though evidence suggests- oh shit, it's Saturday."
He laughed, pink in the cheeks, and was already stepping aside to let the witch in when she offered to come back later. Any port in a storm: and besides, this wasn't a storm, and Fauna was slowly becoming a preferable port. Virgil had quickly grown to like the auror after she discovered his stolen violin in December.
"I was just about to light up and... um," the blonde shrugged, "relax? Come in, I won't say no to brownies. Don't suppose they're the gillyweed sort though, are they?" he smiled languidly at Fauna and closed the flat door behind her.
With Ari and Nick in their rooms, the rest of the apartment was empty but neat. There were some groceries still sitting in a paper bag on the kitchen counter - for breakfast tomorrow - and a coffee pot gone cold in the living room. David Bowie's imperfect voice drifted out of his bedroom door, and Virgil gestured for his guest to join him in there.
"How are you feeling?" he twirled the joint in his fingers idly, wondering if he should feel guilty for not having to resort to diversion #3 tonight. "Must be nice to wave that wand around again."
Merlin knew that's how he felt when his magic returned after the mysterious measles.
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Fauna walked inside, glad to hear his amused laughter. Ok, so he wasn't going out tonight! He'd made up his face for fun. She felt a little bit plain and frumpy next to him, but she'd get over it.
"Just normal chocolate," she lamented. Plenty for Virgil and his flatmates. Maybe he'd share his gillyweed with her. She glanced at him, too shy to ask.
The flat was much calmer and neater since the party. She passed the kitchen, catching a whiff of old coffee that reminded her of the Ministry.
No, the Ministry didn't have good taste in music. Tilting her head, she listened to the lyrics, the distinctive voice, and half-smiled as she hesitated in the doorway of his bedroom. Hm? Oh, magic!
"It's been really nice. I keep thinking I don't have it, and I start doing something the slow way, like physically carrying files in my arms," Fauna shook her head as she stepped into the room. What madness!
She looked at the container of brownies in her arms. Fauna swished her wand and levitated the brownies to rest on the trunk in the corner.
"Then I realize I have magic and you know, I overcompensate by casting all the spells. At once. So I've got files doing somersaults in the air above me," she gestured with a wave over her head. "And I've been apparating everywhere. Can't trust the floo lately."
Oops! Probably partially her fault. Fauna tucked her hands in her hoodie pocket and shuffle-turned, glancing around at the plants, the mirror, the wardrobe, and the row of bookshelves that had taken over a whole wall. His room was full of personal knickknacks, much like hers, except instead of bookcases she had flat files for art storage.
Fauna stuck to the middle of the room, unsure how comfortable he was with her studying everything. She always felt like a bashful teenager going into someone's room, especially a new friend's, even if it was Virgil. What were the rules? Where should she put her hands? In her hoodie pocket.
The chorus came on. David Bowie!
"Rebel, rebel," she sang under her breath, then smiled at Virgil sheepishly.
"How are you?"
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"And I've been apparating everywhere. Can't trust the floo lately."
"I have a preference for apparating anyway," he remarked as he slipped back on to his bed and leaned lazily against his bookshelf. "There's always something the matter with floo, isn't there? One word wrong, next thing you know you're coughing up a storm in someone's living room while they're shagging on the sofa set."
Not that he was speaking from personal experience. There was a brilliant book about it - Foraging the Floo: Awkward Tales by Arabella Ansel. After having to floo out of level nine when he was kidnapped, reading the awkward stories had been a great way to overcome all fireplace related anxieties.
Fauna sang along to Bowie a little, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room,.
"Sit," he nodded at the edge of his bed and sighed at her perfectly polite, sensible question. "I'm alright, just trying to forget... you know, the entire month." Virgil smiled dryly, twirling the joint in his fingers to indicate his method of 'forgetting'. Better than drinking and definitely better than trying Muse again. Few people would understand his despondent state better than Fauna, who he assumed was also suffering from a similar condition.
They had both known about the Direwolf attack. And they'd tried to stop it from happening, and they'd failed. Nothing worked out. It didn't matter. The legilimency and the seer ability, none of that changed what would happen. It was a microcosm of his entire life. No amount of talent, charm or desire ever helped him to get what he wanted.
Fate rolled over the little things in favour of lesser fortunes. "Light up with me?" Virgil stretched out his hand to offer her the gillyweed. "It's a great sign of friendship," he intoned in a voice of mock seriousness, "to be given the first drag."
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Shagging on the couch. What a specific example! Fauna shook her head and chuckled, unsure if he was being serious. There were wards for that! People should use them.
After weeks without magic, it had taken her a few days to get used to apparating again. She'd been slower in learning it years ago, and the first few tries after her forced break had made her nervous and queasy again, as if all her hard work had been for nothing.
Everything took hard work really, and she just had to make herself do these things. To go out at night after the ambush. To apparate everywhere until it became second nature. It already was.
She'd just avoid red telephone booths for a while yet.
Fauna nodded, wrinkling her nose. January had been terrible and no-good. Poor Virgil. His visions invaded his dreams, and came true despite his best efforts. She'd read up on his vision about Abby from the woods, curious after he'd mentioned it earlier in the month. He'd tried to help by sending that note to Abby's sister. How must it feel, to impact the future in ways too subtle to be seen, to always be one step ahead yet no wiser? How long did it take him to recover from tragedies he had watched but not experienced directly? Did he ever look for invisible walls in the woods, or hear banging at the door and flash back to Carter in his flat?
He must feel frustrated and guilty, and upset at everyone who was supposed to listen at the Ministry. She did.
"I know what you mean," she sat on the edge of the bed, glancing down at her shoes.
Gillyweed! Thank you, Virgil.
"Ye-es," Fauna agreed in her usual sing-song, reaching out to take the joint. His ease and casual offer (assurance?) of friendship made a warm smile flit across her face.
She lit the joint with a wave of her wand, thinking back to a few months ago. November was when she'd last lit up. She was a very casual lighter-upper, only taking a joint if offered, and completely ignoring wherever it came from - Aurors had real criminals to catch.
November - what had she been upset about? Oh right, Pratt telling her she was assigned as parole officer to Fig's dad. Her worries then!
Fauna nudged off one of her shoes to curl her leg in on the bed. One shoe off! She sighed, both despondent and happy as she exhaled the smoke.
"To friends and magic and um, your library," she gestured to the pile of books on the bed, and picked a book up at random.
"When pants fail your flatmate," she looked up and widened her eyes in mock seriousness. It gave her a second to invent the rest of the title. "How to make - I mean, how to magic pants - see, I'm still getting used to it - out of parchment and tequila?"
She sneaked another drag and leaned over to hand him back the joint. Fauna could go about two minutes without asking him more sincerely how he was doing, unless the gillyweed got to her first.
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He smiled fondly at her musical reply as she plucked the joint from his outstretched hand. Who would have thought...? Him, lighting up with an auror in his bedroom! It was different from the sleepover with Abby and Raine, and everyone else crammed into the Hiraeth apartment. This felt friendlier and more intimate: he was getting high with Fauna, not in her general vicinity.
"To friends and magic and um, your library," the dark-haired witch indicated the shelf against which he was lazily leaning.
She was the strangest muggleborn he knew. Sasha was... Sasha, obsessed with magical connections to muggle stuff. Nick got his knickers in a knot over anything magical he wasn't used to, like living with a Legilimens. Blake, on the other hand, seemed miraculously balanced. Like she was dropped into the wizarding world and decided to just roll with it like a normal person - and normality was an exception in Virgil's life.
"Even if I could magic pants for Bevans," he leaned forward to take the joint, and stuck it between his lips before slipping out the book she was failing to read on the shelf just over his left shoulder, "he probably wouldn't wear it. Fairly certain he'd go everywhere entirely naked if he could, horny fucker. And Ari would never lose her pants."
He never felt bad snarking about Nick, knowing that his flatmate would probably agree with the remark anyway. That was the glorious charm of their ridiculous friendship. Perhaps. One day he'd have to ask.
The blonde tossed the book on to his bed, front cover up. When Walls Fail Your Dreamscape by Yavin Morgenthau. Its linen-bound hardcover bore little else besides a gold embossed eye just below the title. It was a clearly loved copy, dog-eared and often thumbed through.
"How are you handling all this?" Virgil took a long drag and then handed the gillyweed over, watching Fauna's face with dreamy curiousity. The joint bore a vivid pink lipstick mark. "Werewolves in December, January. The bodies in the atrium. That's a lot, isn't it?"
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Fauna laughed. Bevans was so good-natured about teasing that it was difficult to feel badly about it. He seemed to encourage commentary and attention among their group.
She looked down at the book curiously, studying the illustration first, then the title. She expected the eye to blink at any moment. The worn copy hinted at the history that many had heard around the Ministry of Virgil's mentorship with Yavin Morgenthau.
They both presented themselves as expressive eccentrics, Yavin and Virgil, Fauna thought, glancing at the pink lipstick imprint on the joint that Virgil passed to her. But their faces told different stories. The few times she'd run across the Head of Nine she'd found him impossible to read, his slight smile a permanent fixture, a show of reassurance in contrast to his shocking sweaters. Fauna often felt like she was looking at somebody on Level 900, detached from the world he wanted to help.
Virgil lived in this world, was mired in it. His eyes always carried slight shadows underneath them, a gravitas not hidden by spectacles. His smile could be sly but usually genuine. He'd welcomed her in when he'd made up his face just for himself, and he tossed her his dog-eared book, shared his gillyweed, asked after her easily. Fauna's face showed everything unless she consciously masked it. He must have noticed her flickering smile and crease of the brow, but still he asked how she was, summing up in a few sentences what she was feeling.
"Oh no, don't ask me first," she wagged the joint at him, her smile shy but pleased.
His time was coming. Time for doting questions. She scooted to the middle of the bed to flip over the book and read the back. Dream magic, dated a decade ago. How long had he had this particular copy?
"It's kind of affected everyone but me. More so, I mean. I have a few," she paused, "friends who were involved in the safe house disaster." That encompassed the multitude of friends and one girlfriend, right?
"And you know, uh, Carter."
She took a long drag of the joint. 'You know Carter' did not even begin to describe it, but he knew what she meant. More than anyone.
"And you know, then Penny found those bodies in the phone booth," her brow furrowed. Had Yavin told him what had happened there? She breathed in the gillyweed, remembering the wolfsbane petals floating down from the booth. The flowers had had no smell, ripped from the stem, and overwhelmed by the stench of...
She shook her head.
"I'm either home with Penny and Theta, and thank Merlin for Theta, Virgil, she's so patient and helpful. Or I'm downplaying it all to my family, or I'm with Tia, or I'm at work. Normally I'd go out to pubs, but..."
Everyone was affected, including her favorite drinking buddy Fig, and at the last Ministry outing she'd felt so guilty about Carter that she hadn't gone. Her shoulders relaxed. She was already rambling. Her other foot dangled her sneaker just off the edge of the bed, laces drooping.
"Anyway, I'm glad I'm here."
Fauna glanced up gratefully as she opened the book, and the pages fell to a chapter with several notes annotated in the margins. She set her finger in the crease and looked at Virgil as she leaned forward and offered him the joint back. Was it okay for her to be flipping through this?
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The corners of his lips lifted into a faraway smile as the gillyweed descended upon him like a soft, welcoming mist. Oh - the same kind of mist they knew at Hogwarts in the early spring morning, a delicate gauze stretched so far out across their great lake that it simply dissolved into the whiteness of an endless sky.
Fauna's words reached him through this mist nonetheless but it was fine; her voice felt welcome in this state of mind, and she was talking about things that were bothering her. Important things. "I'm either home with Penny and Theta....Or I'm downplaying it all..." she explained, and without trying he already felt the tinge of anxiety radiating off the witch.
She couldn't escape because everyone she knew was a part of what had happened. He felt bad for her: outside of the odd acquaintance none of his close friends had been involved in the full moon events of this past two months.
"Anyway, I'm glad I'm here."
"Me too," Virgil decided to meet her in the middle, laying himself down on his front so that his heels knocked at books on the shelf and his elbows propped him up closer to the middle of the bed. "It's performative, isn't it? Life...." he trailed off and took the joint with a sense of delicacy.
If anyone knew about having to perform as such, it was him. And not only because he was an actor but because he had to pretend for so long in Hogwarts that he couldn't hear what was happening in people's heads. It was exhausting. To be disingenuous always is.
"Sometimes you simply want to exist without having to downplay or control what you're feeling," the blonde muttered, titling his head to the side so that he could glance at the chapter Fauna had landed on - chapter six, befriending the subconscious. One of Yavin's annotations was a doodle of a person shaking hands with his shadow. "It's important, right? Feeling things, learning how to feel things instead of the world demanding you process it right away."
He took another drag and reached over to tap some ash into one of the potted plants by the windowsill. "So," Virgil looked up at Fauna, squinting comically. "Can I do up your face? I've been like, dying to, since I knew you at school. You look like a doll."
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She nodded in surprise. Perceptive Virgil understood perfectly. On Level Two, Fauna had to control her expressions and act before she'd barely had time to process, and she could do it and she was good at it and she couldn't go back in time nor did she want to now that she knew how to protect people. Like everyone though, Fauna simply needed to 'be' sometimes. Flip the pages gently, smile at the doodles, instead of rushing through searching for answers.
"Really?" She raised her eyebrows, hand pausing on the page. It took her a moment and then the glow of flattery sank in. A doll! She laughed at herself and laughed a little at him.
"Um, Virgil, I was going to ask you how you are and I was also kind of wanting to draw a star on your cheek - a star or two, David Bowie mini stars - and you just come up with all the things first, but I don't mind!"
How could she? Compliments. She grinned sheepishly and nudged off her remaining shoe, curling her other leg in.
"Ok then," she nodded, ducking her head and tucking her hair around her ears. "You won't need to add blush, I think."
Fauna secretly loved makeovers. Sometimes she bothered to be all artsy with her face but usually she saved her creativity for the hats she wore and the portraits of friends she sketched.
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Not unlike a cat who can't settle into one position for very long, he pushed himself up with an excitable grin when Fauna agreed to having her face painted. Yes! New canvas! Virgil slipped his wand out of his pocket and gave it a happy wave - a large tin box, once intended to store American pipe tobacco, danced in his direction and he placed it next to him on the bed.
"You won't need to add blush, I think."
"No, you're quite blessed in that regard," he giggled as he sorted through the various glass bottles and jars. Some of the stuff were Lipwitch products but most of it was specialty or theatre cosmetics. "I think we shall do something with a bit of a Harlequin (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/75/73/d6/7573d617b3586102d0f9ce26c39d6cf4.jpg) vibe, really bring those eyes into focus. And then you may draw as many stars on me as you wish."
Stars. He could never seem to escape stars - be it in Peter Pan or Stardust or dark haired wizards named after constellations. Virgil nudged the thought aside and rubbed ed his hands with a cleansing wipe before reaching for a jar of tinted balm.
His smile was a little distant as he took out a dollop of the balm and gently smoothed it over Fauna's face with the tips of his fingers. "To answer the question you didn't ask..." Virgil spoke, voice soft, concentrating on the symmetry of her features. "I'm not okay. Most days I want to--" he pulled his hands back and made an explosive gesture, "--burst! Just, poof, everything inside me. So that it's no longer inside me."
Sighing, he picked up a glittery pink eyebrow pencil. His argument with Yavin[1] still weighed on his mind and he knew he'd have to face it soon.
"But it's fine," Virgil reassured Fauna and started to fill in her eyebrows, pink pigment gliding over the dark hairs. "I'm used to feeling like this. I just have to let myself... think it out. Feel it out. I don't know."
He was such a joke, trying to be all mature and thoughtful. All these talents and Virgil knew nothing at all. Except, maybe, how to carry a tune and put on a little make-up.
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Fauna sneaked a glance inside the silver tin, a smile tugging at her mouth as she straightened her posture. The tin held a rainbow of colors. She'd pick something joyful for him later, something colorful, like a shooting star or a bright comet, one on each cheek.
She murmured that she'd never tried a harlequin look before, and scrunched her nose slightly in surprise when his fingers touched her face. It was kind of fun to see this side of Virgil, the giggly gillyweed side, and though her hands fidgeted with the book on her knee and she glanced at his dramatically lined eyes and quickly away again, unsure where to look, the cloud of smoke in the air veiled his face and softened his already soft voice.
He wasn't ok. Her stomach dropped a little. He sounded ok, right then and there, but so few people would admit that they weren't and there was a bravery in that, simply saying it out loud.
"Ok," she echoed in acknowledgment, her brow beginning to furrow, then smoothing out so he could apply the - was that pink? Ohh. Pink to match her cheeks, she got that.
"You're feeling... overwhelmed?" She wondered just as quietly, plucking the paltry word out of the smoke. Fauna was missing something, even with the dreamscape book resting on her knee.
If it happened often, and feeling it out or thinking it out wasn't helping this time, then it didn't sound like he was going to be okay anytime soon.
"I'm here if you want to talk it out. I mean, right here. Sitting here," she rambled, the corner of her mouth quirking ruefully.
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Overwhelmed.
He tilted his chin back and lowered his hand, examining her eyebrows to ensure he'd drawn them symmetrically. Was he overwhelmed? It did feel like that, like he was juggling so many things and if he stopped everything would come tumbling down at an alarming rate. Virgil put aside the pencil, taking out a little glittery palette and reaching for Fauna's hand.
"I'm here if you want to talk it out. I mean, right here. Sitting here," she offered. Tempting.
There was something tentative and gentle about her; perhaps because she was older than most of his friends, it came across as a genuinely helpful offer. Abby and Ari could be as sweet or receptive but Fauna had a sense of mature competence, like she was old enough to understand that feelings were real things.
Things you had to handle instead of ignore.
"It's stupid," he began swatching different eyeshadows on the inside of her forearm, trying to judge which ones would go on her face. His gaze was cast down to observe the different shadows of pinks and purples and oranges. "Hogwarts wasn't too difficult, you know? I didn't have to work as hard, I had no real ambitions. I studied whatever subjects I enjoyed."
Pressing his lips together, he shifted her arm from side to side, catching the light on the colours. "Now it's like.... my legilimency, my seer skill, they're properly real. And it's stupid because I'm complaining about stuff other people wished they had." Virgil took up an eye brush and looked Fauna in the face, smiling wryly. "Close your eyes."
With the lightest of touches, he began to apply the powders to her eyelids, as if he were painting or sketching. Careful, under the influence of gillyweed, not to press too hard or brush over her lovely doll-like lashes.
"I don't know who I am without all this," he murmured. "I see people like Nick or Anton, having a good time going out, partying, and it's like... why can't I do that? Why can't I just switch off?"
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She closed her eyes, feeling funny listening with her eyes closed and her wrist dotted with bright shimmery colors. The last thing she saw was his wry smile, similar to when he'd asked her to sit down and close her eyes before showing her the vision earlier that month.
A very different situation now, but Virgil was still trusting her, talking to her like this. She wanted to protest that it was not stupid, but she merely twisted her mouth to the side as he brushed the eyeshadow against her eyelids. Little wings wishing her sweet gillyweed dreams.
A seer and a legilimens. She hadn't considered before how the combination of those two talents must weight on him. Fauna had only caught - allowed, really - the barest glimpse of his ability to read thoughts. Between the demands of his job and simply growing up, it sounded stressful.
"That's a lot for one person to deal with," she said softly. "I mean, Anton and Nick might envy or admire what you can do, but they wouldn't necessarily want the responsibility that comes with it. Protecting people. Trying to prevent things only you can see."
The vision of Carter. Her eyelashes fluttered, then closed again, unsure how her words were landing.
Right or not, she related it a little to Auror training. Everyone claimed that they wanted to kick arse, but they did not want to have to make decisions about kicking arse or to feel bad about kicking the wrong arse or to watch as all the arses ran away into the night...
Even Aurors went home sometime though. How could Virgil clock out of his own head?
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To hear Fauna say it was surreal: responsibility, protecting people, preventing things. The words landed in his gut like cold lead and he pulled back the brush for a second to take a deep breath. Nobody ever actually told him that out loud. Yavin least of all. Yavin never wanted to pressure him into moral obligations, and neither did Edgar nor Angela. Certainly none of his friends did.
It was more of a vague implication, that he would try to do the right thing instead of... of what Professor Duerr[1] once mentioned. Getting off on a power trip.
He added a few finishing touches to Fauna's eyelids, allowing for an oddly comfortable lapse of silence between them before speaking. "It isn't all bad." Virgil didn't want her to think he was endlessly distressed or overwhelmed. "There are nice things about it too, things I never would have known about the world. You can open your eyes by the way."
His smile was softer now, and he returned the palette and brush back to the tin. Fauna was calm to be around - not trying to cheer him up right away. It was okay to be sad every so often, to feel it instead of avoiding it. How lucky that she found his violin.
"For one....I know that people are almost always stronger than they look, on the inside," he picked up a lip palette this time and examined its colours, glancing at Fauna's face to gauge which ones to use. "You are. Level two is full of people who talk and walk tough," the image of Roh and Bagnold in Mysteries came to mind, "but I think you're tougher than the whole lot."
Virgil looked into his tin box, searching for a lip brush. "That's why none of them have odes written about them."
-
"Right," Fauna opened her eyes and nodded, believing that. His gifts were gifts for a reason. It must be exciting too, and utterly unique. It just sounded like he never got a day off. Not at work, or parties, or even in dreams.
"Oh," she raised her eyebrows, not expecting the compliment at all. "I don't know about that, but thanks," she chuckled self-consciously. "I do know that no one on Level Two can sing."
Her face flushed, appreciating his regard for her. She wasn't tougher, really, she was just more in touch with her feelings than most Aurors. She felt more than most people. She faced feelings to let them go. Not everyone felt the same way or the same things. Not everyone needed to keep a family photo in their cubicle, or a candle that reminded them of home.
Was Virgil like her, feeling a lot? She hoped he knew that he was tougher than he looked. He had to be, to see visions and let them go. He'd brought the vision directly to her, and stuck beside her in Pratt's office.
Or was he not just talking about his seer ability?
"Tell me another nice thing?" She asked hopefully. "Er, not about me," her eyes widened. Merlin, what must he think! "I mean, something important to you."
She glanced at the dreamscape book beside her. Fauna knew very little about it, or about his studies with Yavin. She was curious, and wanted to give him room to talk, he who flattered his friends so sweetly.
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"I do know that no one on Level Two can sing."
"I can confirm that Solomon certainly can't hold a tune," he muttered dryly, finally picking out a slim lip brush. Singing carols with the Carstairs at Christmas was not always a tasteful event - and personally, Virgil thought it lucky Edgar married into the family to introduce a little more flair. Everyone could use good music in their lives, even if their idea of 'good' might be different from others.
He laughed as Fauna clarified she wanted to hear another one of his nice things. In spite of her modesty, it was nice that she didn't altogether dismiss his compliments; she knew her worth and he was glad of it.
Virgil used the brush to swipe at a deep pinkish red in the palette. "Alright. Mouth like this," he mimicked a slight smile, so that her lips would be in the right position to apply the colour. "Perfect."
The wizard began to quickly but gently paint the edge of the waterline, bit by bit while he thought of what to say. He'd noticed the way she glanced at the book - Yavin's guide to restructuring dreamscapes, a copy he was given before going off to Hogwarts.
"I dreamwalk," Virgil wiped the brush, picking a lighter beige pink next, "since I was a little boy. And I get to see other people's dreams. That's how my parents knew I was gifted. Sometimes it's scary but most of the time it's wondrous," he filled out her outer lip, blending with the inner for a faded effect. "We really do contain multitudes inside us."
Done with the lips, he gave her countenance a searching look, to examine his handiwork. He was being much chattier than usual because of the gillyweed, though he hadn't realised yet.
"Yavin taught me how to change nightmares," he pulled a face, "and sometimes I try to get people out of theirs, but not all the time. If you have a recurrent one, I can help."
-
Fauna fixed on a slight smile, trying to keep still as he applied the lip color, though as he spoke, her eyebrows raised higher and higher in a comic look of surprise.
Dreamwalking!
Oh, that sounded fun. Yavin's book made sense now. Virgil not only saw the world in a different way, but he explored the worlds of others' dreams.
No wonder he'd learned how to hone his gifts. She just hadn't imagined that he'd started from a young age. For a child, it must have been like opening the wardrobe to Narnia and never knowing if he'd frolic with dryads and (badass) beavers or run away from a horde of boggles.
At his offer to help change her nightmares, she smiled at him softly, searching his face, seeing beyond the makeup and the liner and the lipstick, to the gentler person underneath. Why should he try to help all the time? He needed to sleep and dream too. He had his own nightmares. Sometimes was enough.
"I'm mostly ok in that area," she nodded gratefully. "The dreams that I have like that don't-" she paused to try to find the words. "They don't have much to do with my life. It's, uh, like tuning into an adventure series on the wireless."
Sometimes she had bad dreams about bad events, from a few years ago or a few months ago, but they weren't constant. They just slipped in from time to time.
"So you can see other people's dreams, and change them. See your own dreams, change your own," she mused aloud slowly, voice wondering.
Fauna glanced at the bookshelves behind his bed, at the rows of books weighing the shelves. A multitude of stories hanging over his head. What had he said earlier? Who was he without it.
"That's kind of amazing, Virgil."
Wondrous, he'd said. Scary and wondrous. Did he ever visit the same places, or the same dreams? Did he build his own?
Fauna's questions stilled on her lips, relaxed by the gillyweed in the air. Everyone needed space to breathe.
-
He raised an eyebrow at Fauna's description of her dreams. An adventure series! Perhaps she visited haunted castles on the misty moors in her dreams - lived a different kind of life from the one on level two, with its paperwork and red robes and having to listen to people like Solomon or Ed Pratt prattling on. But at least being an auror meant having spooky real life adventures too.
"That's kind of amazing, Virgil."
"It is," he confirmed with serene assent, and picked out a pure black eyeliner tube, twirling it between his fingers while they spoke. "There are limitations and it can tire me out if I do too much but it's breathtaking. And worth the downsides. A lot like life in general."
That was probably why he was never in any danger in the Death Chamber, he thought. Life was awful and exhausting and painful, yes, but it was, as Fauna put it, amazing. Complex, interesting, layered, full of hope and conflict... and the chance to do good. Which he'd only really understood in these last few months.
Just because they didn't manage to save Alec Carter, that didn't mean they couldn't still do good things.
He uncapped the eyeliner. "Close your eyes again, and then we're all done." Virgil was quicker with the black liner, pulling the brush dramatically across; and then sharply above and below to form a Harlequin star. "Thank you for listening to me," his voice lowered to a whisper while he switched to the other eye, frowning in concentration.
"About the vision and just now too. I don't really talk about this to people who aren't Yavin," the wizard explained before capping the eyeliner and blowing lightly on her closed eyelids to dry the pigment, his breath redolent of gillyweed and the fresh pears he had eaten after dinner. "There," he reached for the hand mirror on his bedside table and held it up.
"What do you think?"
-
Fauna understood. Life could be difficult, and tiring, but wonderful. They were only young once. Calm, contented moments like these helped. Listening to each other helped. Virgil had done something for her even as he'd talked, by paying attention, by making her feel special. It seemed that he rarely let himself confide in anyone without also offering to do for others.
"Anytime," she glanced over the mirror to meet his eyes. "I'm happy to listen."
Yavin as mentor and boss could get complicated, she imagined. She'd felt the same when graduating Hogwarts and working officially under Raynor and Radley. A professional gain, a somewhat personal loss.
Fauna looked into the hand mirror.
Immediately, she straightened. Her eyes widened. She tilted her face this way and that, admiring her own long, dark lashes, the blue of her eyes emphasized by the dark liner and pink shadows. Her face didn't just look pale anymore, but purposefully so. The star lines made perfect points on both of her blushing cheeks.
A smile crept up her face in dark, dramatic pink.
"I love it," Fauna breathed, glancing at him in delight.
"Virgil! I feel pretty," she posed with her hands framing her face.
"You know what, I am pretty."
She moved from the bed to look into his full-length mirror and half-turned away again, laughing to herself. Her casual hoodie and jeans looked completely out of place now. Her hair got in the way, too.
"I get it now," she told him, scooping her hair off her neck. "Why you'd do this for yourself. You can be someone different without necessarily going anywhere. If I were getting ready for a party, I'd be stressing and running around, but I'm not."
Fauna made a loose bun with her hair and then glanced around his room.
She turned to look at him shyly, "Do you have a hair tie?"
A chuckle escaped. Yes, she remembered when he'd last asked her that! The yellow ribbon.
-
She felt pretty! She is pretty!
Virgil giggled laughed and sat back against his head, watching the older witch examine herself in the mirror with which he had been doing the same before she rang their doorbell. With those clothes she looked like she was a Harlequin on holiday from la Commedia dell'arte. Dressing up was one of his pleasures - and although it had one negative connotation, that night[1] at Ceph's place, it was still his idea of a good night in. Nothing was going to spoil it for him.
"Do you have a hair tie?"
He stopped himself from lingering on that other thought and slid over to the edge of the bed to gesture at his trunk, on which sat the record player alongside some perfumes, body oils, and a little enamel box. "Jewellery case. There's a few colourful ones."
In it, she would also find the fated yellow ribbon - tied in a bow to one of his many stacking rings.
"It's nice to experiment, isn't it?" Virgil got up, going to his wardrobe and opening the doors to look inside while Fauna chose a hair tie. "I don't go to The Closet as much as I'd like but sometimes..." he sighed and disturbed the hangers to take out a few billowy blouses, of silk and lace and very fine cotton. "I play around with wild, outfits, you know? Play around with the notion of wearing something that would truly make me nervous."
Something that said wasn't a flirtation but an outright invitation. That was at least one good thing Cepheus had inspired in him. Why not make bold choices? A little lace, a little skin?
The wizard held out one of the more modest blouses to Fauna. "What do you think? On yourself? I don't think I have trousers in your size but I have a few skirts that might do."
-
Fauna peered inside the jewelry box at the assortment of pins and pendants and hair ties. Spotting the yellow ribbon, she hesitated, then left it there for Virgil. It felt tied to his vision, for better or worse. She took a slim, pink scrunchie and piled her hair in a bun atop her head, and glanced inside his closet as he mentioned The Closet.
His wardrobe was a portal to Narnia! Fantastical, imaginative.
"I play around with wild, outfits, you know? Play around with the notion of wearing something that would truly make me nervous."
"I get that," Fauna nodded, relating to the need to be true to oneself. She kept personal mementos on her desk at work and tried to be considerate as well as tough. But it wasn't easy! She wondered if Virgil ever felt lost at work the way she sometimes did. His outfits at the Ministry were, understandably, much more professional and toned down. Somber, with a hint of Yavin's flair.
She took the blouse on the hanger with a glance at him to make sure it was alright, and held it in front of her sweatshirt as she looked it over in the mirror. Silky! Lacy! He had fashion sense and it was sweet of him to share it with her.
"Are you dressing me up?" She wondered the obvious with a shy smile. "I feel like a sexy-" Auror! "Victorian."
A sexy, Victorian Auror from Narnia. Should she try it on? Was he offering for her to try it on? Should she wait for the trousers - no, the skirt? The gillyweed in the air helped dissipate her questions and she decided she'd just wait for the skirt.
"I've only been to The Closet, uh, once. Why am I always at Spellpunk?" She asked herself and the universe.
"I'd go with friends," she continued to ramble, glancing around his shoulder at the skirts in the wardrobe. "I mean, I want to go sometime with Tia too."
She'd probably been lots more than Fauna had.
"I bet she just sits and exists and witches flock to her," Fauna blushed through the blush on her face.
"You know what I mean, Virgil? Those people who are just - they are so pretty," she sighed happily.
-
"I am absolutely dressing you up," he replied as he turned back to the wardrobe and slid aside some hanging dresses to examine what few skirts he had, "everything about you demands it." Virgil frowned a little at how many of his skirts were black or grey; the sort that had become fashionable for muggle blokes to wear over their trousers, whilst still clinging to a false dichotomy of supposedly masculine colours.
Behind him Fauna was chattering away with the full force of a half-joint behind her words. It was nice, such a low-key chat.
"I mean, I want to go sometime with Tia too."
Tia? He took out the only colourful skirt, a dusky pink corduroy wrap with a bow knot on the hip, and looked back at the witch. Virgil remembered then - the slightly older witch who'd joined their sleepover last year. His mouth twisted into a teasing smile and he handed her the skirt. "Tia Gamp, right? The Gamps do rather have that effect."
Fauna's blush was even pinker than his own, and it made her look as young as he remembered her at Hogwarts. Oh, he was a little jealous. Her affection for Adrestia was probably requited, judging from her ridiculously happy sigh. That must be such a wonderful feeling. Still he couldn't help smile.
It was infectious, it reminded him of how he felt when he first saw Cepheus at Hogwarts.
"I know what you mean. People so pretty you wonder how everyone else manages to function just fine around them..." Virgil bit his bottom lip, sitting on the stool next to his dressing table with his own little sigh - melancholy but not especially so. "And looking at them rather changes something inside you, doesn't it? Changes how you look at the world."
Something in his chest ached badly and he hated it. Virgil reached for his cigarette case on the table and twisted around on the stool to face the wall. "Try it on, then. Don't tuck the blouse in too tightly."
With his countenance turned away from Fauna, he allowed his wistful smile to fade a little, and lit a cigarette.
"Tell me about Tia," he mumbled while she changed, curious in spite of himself. "She's like a proper grown up, isn't she?"
-
Ooo, a skirt with a bow on it. Fauna was always wearing bows around her waist or in her hair and forever losing them to pretty people she liked. She glanced at him, but he'd already turned away without her even stammering and blushing over it. After a slight hesitation, the gillyweed lingering in the air gave her the courage to tug her hoodie up and over her head, and quickly don the blouse as goosebumps crept up her arms. Next she took off her jeans, nudging then into a pile on the floor with her hoodie. The skirt she put on was slightly loose around the waist, but she could see how it would fit Virgil well.
"Thank you for dressing me up, and for listening to me," she echoed his sentiments from earlier, buttoning up the blouse. Sometimes she forgot to ask for things in return for all the pretty bows she gave to pretty people.
"Mmhm," Fauna smiled at his question. "She has her life together."
Tia was the sort of person who made her feel like things would be alright and that the world was kinder than it was ugly. She made it better in seemingly small ways that added up over time, by sharing her interests and her passions and making room for other voices to be heard. Everyone faced hardship, but Tia reached out with understanding. She'd even stepped up during the safehouse horrors, Fauna had heard.
"Um, she's a museum curator, and also mentors werewolves on Level Four," she started absently with the basics, trusting Virgil about the mentoring.
"She's clever and kindhearted and talks about the most interesting things. The last time I was at her flat - which is decorated like a grown up's -" Fauna felt the need to add, her voice softening fondly. "She cooked, and taught me how to dance - well she tried!" Fauna laughed under her breath. Tia was welcome to try, try again, as they'd mostly swayed and snogged. "I miss her. I haven't seen her much since the full moon. I was so worried," she trailed off in a murmur. "Her family is the sweetest and they're all there for each other, though. You know? I mean, you know," she nodded, remembering his flatmate, Ari.
He'd sounded a bit wistful. Fauna glanced at him in the mirror, curious if his flirtation with Anton (shagging, as Sasha had so bluntly told her) was causing him heartbreak. Or was there someone else?
She tucked in the blouse too tightly, and took a moment to loosen it.
"What do you think?"
Her smile said she was happy with it, posing with her hands in her hair, while her feet were shyer or perhaps colder, one foot crossing over the other with her heel lifted in a little dance step.
-
Facing away from Fauna, he crossed his legs and worked pensively on his cigarette. The wall before him was blank - which made him wonder if he ought to pick something up from the weekend market, to hang. Virgil liked busy rooms, full of people's personalities and quirks; including his own.
"The last time I was at her flat - which is decorated like a grown up's..." the witch explained while she dressed.
She really sounded smitten, and he couldn't help laughing along when she mentioned Adrestia trying to teach her how to dance. "Her family is the sweetest and... You know? I mean, you know," she continued. Virgil choked on a breath of smoke, stifling it as his cheeks flushed with heat. How did she know about his feelings for Ce--
Oh. Right. Ari. Prompted to observe his handiwork, the young wizard took another drag before swivelling around on the stool. Fauna looked sweet in white lace and pink corduroy. Perhaps even too sweet, with the harlequin make-up and her doll eyes.
"I think," he got up, tilting his head from left to right as he deliberated over the outfit, "it needs just a tiiiiiny bit of..." Virgil untucked one side of her blouse a bit looser to lend it some asymmetry, and then undid the top two buttons of the blouse. "There. You look like you've fallen out of a fantastic dream. A circus with mauve elephants and a lady who reads your palm if you cross hers with silver."
Virgil liked that idea. Except, knowing Fauna, someone would get murdered at the circus and she would task herself with solving the mystery.
"I'm envious," he stated abruptly, stubbing out his cigarette and reaching for an empty mug on the dressing table. "Of you and Tia, that is. I'm not quite as lucky in love these days. Coffee?"
-
He laughed, and then choked on the smoke in the room, and Fauna glanced back at him. Was he alright? Too much soppiness?
She tried to play it cool. Fauna was the coolest Hufflepuff, of course, but her eyes widened a bit at his scrutiny, and more than a bit when he unbuttoned the two top buttons of her shirt. His shirt. Ok cool. That was cool, cool. Now she looked... better.
Fauna grinned, liking the idea of falling out of a dream. She was a trapeze artist in one of her reoccurring dreams, did he know? No, she hadn't told him yet. She was relaxed enough to tell him at some point in the night. She glanced in the mirror, admiring her made-up face and the blouse so artfully arranged.
Envious? Fauna blinked, focusing back on him. She hadn't been expecting that.
Fauna nodded at his offer of coffee, and spotted the brownies she brought that she'd completely forgotten about. She picked up the container and followed Virgil out of his room.
"Er, don't be envious," she said earnestly, feeling really happy and lovely as she walked through the living room where the smoke dissipated. She'd been lucky to get to know Tia, lucky that Tia liked her back, but it wasn't easy to find wixes like Tia. Kindhearted and clever and... there she went again.
It must be bad luck, Fauna agreed, because Virgil had wit and style and a good heart. It was only a matter of time before it would work out well for him.
"Um, so, things aren't going well with Anton?"
She smiled sympathetically, ready to back off if he really wanted to focus on coffee.
-
He fiddled with the Moka pot at the kitchen sink, filling the chamber with water and then brandishing his wand so that a fistful of coffee beans rose into the air and spun around in the clutches of a grinding charm. Fauna had followed him out into the living room - Nick and Ari did not emerge from their rooms. With a quick flick he twisted the Moka close.
"Um, so, things aren't going well with Anton?"
Virgil set the pot down on the stove, to brew, and turned around. Right. Anton. Anton. His muggle boyfriend, who he had forgotten about for a moment. You weren't supposed to forget these things were you? That felt awful. He leaned against the counter with an uncomfortable expression.
"I....wouldn't say that exactly," the blonde began, fiddling with the scarf at his neck. "Anton and I are fine. We're casual, it's fun, just not the same as you and Tia I suppose. She gives you butterflies, doesn't she?"
His sullen mouth twitched into a smile, both teasing and good humoured. "I felt that way about someone who really, really didn't feel the same way about me," he finally added, proud that his voice didn't crack even a little. "Or didn't want to let himself feel the same way, I don't know. And it's silly, it was months ago, but I still find myself sighing about it now."
Pathetic. Virgil thought the word and then pushed it away, because Yavin always said not to be so unkind to yourself. It felt good to tell someone like Fauna, though. He couldn't talk to Nick about it because Nick was an arse. Wav would give him practical and unsympathetic advice. Ari was Ceph's niece, so, not an ideal confidant. Abby had enough to worry about.
Fauna was dating Ceph's cousin. Perhaps that was as distant as he'd get in wizarding society.
"Anyway, it's probably unfair to Anton. I was thinking he and I should stop." Virgil turned back around to check that the coffee wasn't burning. "While things are still sweet."
-
Across from Virgil, Fauna leaned forward with her hands clasped on the kitchen island, thinking it was not silly, not silly at all to feel sad about unrequited affection, but her thoughts hadn't quite caught up to her mouth yet. She watched Virgil putter in the kitchen, still feeling rather calm and relaxed. She'd carried the smell of gillyweed with her on her hair and the blouse she wore. She felt a flicker of curiosity about who his crush had been (or still was), but brushed aside the urge to ask.
"Maybe you just need time," she said simply, her voice just above a murmur. She paused, breathing in the smell of coffee.
"Time to not feel the butterflies, or to feel the butterflies about someone else. Or run around catching butterflies, or - please stop me," she put her hand up, palm up.
"I need coffee," she muttered sheepishly, and went around the counter to find a clean mug. With a questioning glance at him, she found some milk from the icebox and poured a bit into the mug to mix with the coffee.
"Anton would be sweet about it either way," she said, hoping to encourage him to be honest. "He's just that kind of person."
And so was Virgil. And Fauna had heard only a little about Virgil from Anton, which could mean he wasn't serious about it either, or he understandably wouldn't confide that to her even if he was. She and Anton would be related, technically, in just a few months, when her mum married Anton's father's brother. They'd be cousins! How awkward.
The thought made her head clear, just a little, worried about Anton in the wider wizarding world, but glad too, that she wouldn't be alone anymore. She'd have family with her.
-
"Time to not feel the butterflies...feel the butterflies about someone else...run around catching butterflies, or - please stop me."
His expression had fallen slightly, at the mention of time being a cure to these ills. Virgil knew, logically, that in his youth and with so many distractions to delight him, time was a poor price to pay; in other words, he could easily afford it. But in some place residing inside his body, near the heart or just under the ribs or between his legs, he also knew that time was the antidote least suited to young people. They were too impatient.
Even so, Fauna's rambling quickly lightened his features as he turned back with the moka pot to pour half of its contents in her mug and the other in his own enamel affair. "He is," Virgil agreed with her on this accurate account of Anton's character. "And I suppose I will speak to him about it soon."
He blew lightly on his coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter again. The muggle had shown him a chat on one of those social media places, early on in their dalliance, and Fauna had been a part of that chat. She was close to her muggle world and muggle life, like Nick was. They were a part of that world - unlike Virgil, who navigated it gleefully but as a visitor.
"I've done some truly deplorable things," he mused with a dry and humorous eye on Fauna, "but I wouldn't be disingenuous with Anton. Or anyone I share a bed with. I like it when things are clear."
Which made it all the worse when the fog of infatuation muddled the world for him. Virgil sipped the coffee, continuing in a friendly tone. "Besides, I don't know if I could ever be serious with a muggle."
-
Fauna smiled dryly too, just listening. No, she wanted to protest faintly. Deplorable? Well...
She'd considered once or twice that Virgil had said some not-nice things in his past because he couldn't relate to those who had it tougher than him, or those who weren't as quick or glib. Though Virgil had never ever said anything deplorable to her, she'd witnessed it, and she'd been on the receiving end of it from other Slytherin types throughout school. Because she hadn't been able to defend herself. Because they could. Because they got bored.
But he had grown up a little. He was going to talk to Anton.
He didn't know if he could be serious with a muggle...
"Hm," Fauna wrinkled her nose as if smelling something off, and sipped her coffee.
"Why not?" She tried, trying not to leap to judgment.
-
"Hm. Why not?"
He lowered his mug, an odd look crossing his face. It was the look of someone who wasn't accustomed to having to elaborate what seemed an obvious statement. While Virgil never himself thought too badly of muggles, he had essentially grown up amongst peers who considered them to be a separate species - as if the very idea of being with one was unnatural. As a fling? For the novelty and company, perhaps. But for good? For the foreseeable romantic future?
"I like magic too much." Virgil finally said after a thoughtful pause, eyes still pensive. "Not just as a convenience but as a force or medium, like a language. I can't imagine being with someone, seriously, if I couldn't come close to sharing that pleasure with them."
Like gushing about a novel to someone who couldn't read, or a portrait to someone who couldn't see. No doubt there were people who loved patiently and strongly enough to do that, but the idea repulsed him. And there was, of course, a much more practical and selfless motivation behind his opinions. Virgil pulled himself up on to the counter, careful not to dislodge a stray pot.
"Anyway, I don't trust myself. I can teach a wizard or a witch to lock this up," he tapped his head, indicating their thoughts, "but not a muggle. And I don't want to put anyone through that. The fear, the suspicion. It isn't healthy."
-
Fauna blinked in surprise. He liked magic too much! Whatever she'd been expecting to hear, it wasn't that.
Her mouth curved into a slight, bewildered smile. Muggles just couldn't see the world in the same way he did, she thought, as he hopped up on the counter. They had their own wonders and experiences, open to those who were open to them.
"Anyway, I don't trust myself..."
Oh. Her smile faded as he went on. Ok, that made a strange sort of sense. If muggles couldn't see the world in the same way, and he already felt different from most wixes, that would make communication extra difficult.
"I think I get it," she twisted her mouth to the side and leaned away from the counter, thinking. "You want to feel like you're on equal footing with whoever you're with."
He'd been dreamwalking since he was a child. A talent which tied into his legilimency? She didn't know enough about it to quite understand, but she was trying.
What she did know was that he'd backed off and apologized when she'd gotten upset at him earlier in the month for talking in her head.[1] He'd respected that boundary. She had a hard time picturing him disrespecting boundaries with anyone else, no matter their magical ability. This wasn't really about Anton though. This was about him.
"I mean," Fauna leaned forward, cradling the coffee cup in her hands, and already looking a tad sheepish. She just couldn't resist trying to help.
"If you're willing to take the time to teach a wix how to build a wall in their head, and you're that concerned about boundaries with muggles and everyone else, and you like relationships to be clear and genuine, um. That sounds pretty trustworthy to me. It's a start, at least," she raised her eyebrows, meeting his eyes as she took another sip of coffee.
-
You want to feel like you're on equal footing with whoever you're with.
She said, in very simple words, the one condition of a relationship that is allowed to preach rigidity. Virgil looked away for a moment and studied his reflection in the coffee, while Fauna leaned against the counter upon which he perched. All his life he had to make friends by extending a hand and taking a step back; the slightest bit of distance, to respect a boundary or to give in to curiousity by making a study of them.
To be on equal footing, to meet another person face-to-face and toe-to-toe without having to throw up pretensions or excuses, wasn't that what everybody wanted?
His gaze lifted, meeting Fauna's endearingly sheepish expression. "It's a start," he repeated softly and in agreement. "For now I think I would be more of an affliction to someone like Anton, than a pleasure." Virgil slipped off the counter with his mug in both hands. "But life is long and full of surprises. Who knows? Every new day is an opportunity to change."
The young wizard shrugged, leading them back to his room. Like any good seer he believed in the unexpectedness of the future, which threatened to transform logical despair into humble delight.
-
An affliction? First he didn't trust himself, now he was an affliction. Virgil sometimes let the most sorrowful words fall out of his mouth as easily as he exhaled gillyweed, but Fauna simply nodded after a moment. She wasn't here to change his mind about Anton, or to be too obnoxiously optimistic.
She'd never dated a muggle before either, not seriously, not ever. Every year she spent as a witch made the wizarding world feel more and more like home, and the muggle life she returned to more like a pocket world. Here was the town she'd grown up in, here was the house she'd grown up in, here was the family who had raised her, and here they were living normal lives while she was off in Narnia, slaying demons and sipping tea with woodland animals.
Fauna followed him into his room, her coffee mug in hand.
"Can I paint a few hearts on your face now?" She offered hopefully, changing the subject to something more comfortable. She hadn't forgotten! Perhaps he'd prefer hearts to stars, if they were small ones near the outer corners of his eyes.
Fin
