Virgil began to paint a picture of his mystery man, and Camille’s mind tried to piece it together, until he mentioned the age gap, and she was a little surprised. Then, of course, he was surrounded by much older gentlemen in the Ministry. He had become the small fish in the sea. Still, she had thought he might be taken with those only a little older than him..?

“… He loves cats and he’s thoughtful and dresses well and he sent me flowers on opening night for Peter Pan.” Virgil expressed breathlessly, caught up in the thought of his crush. The witch clutched her hands together and tilted her head, so pleased for him, but also concerned. He was so young to have his heart broken, but it was a right of passage for the majority.

“I do,” Professor Duerr agreed. “I calculated your balances, a snapshot of your personality. But one can calculate compatibility of the life path number with another, given enough information. A date of birth, particularly. Though…” she looked to Virgil with narrowed eyes and a smile, “… when it comes to love, sometimes it is better to just let the heart decide. For we only know what love is when we truly find it.” Virgil would love and lose many times before he found it, Camille predicted, even without a calculation.

“And sometimes,” she continued, “we are not looking for love at all, but just companionship, a little fun for now.” She gave a shrug, though there was a mischief to her suggestion that could not be hidden.

He wondered if, somewhere in the wizarding world, Cepheus Gamp's ears were burning. It was too pleasurable to talk about his crush - they were only drinking tea but his mind was addled by thoughts of infatuation. Virgil was pleased that Professor Duerr didn't laugh at his confession, or immediately put him down for mooning over someone that much older.

Calculating compatibility, however, sounded dangerous. What if he didn't like what was calculated?

            "… when it comes to love, sometimes it is better to just let the heart decide."

The young wizard spilled a bit of tea, carefully setting down his cup. He dabbed at the stain on the table linen and glanced at her with a grounded air. "I really... I wouldn't know anything about love in that sense. It's a strong word." One he came to respect with mixed feelings after entering the Love Chamber on level nine.

Truthfully, Virgil knew so little about what it meant to be with another person in that way. In a serious, romantic way. It seemed like a distant concern. He smiled, mirroring some of the witch's mischief in his own youthful countenance.

"Perhaps you're right," he admitted and met her in the eye as his tea cup was refilled. "I don't have any grand plans about love and I would be a horrid disappointment to my unconventional parents," his voice carried a touch of playfulness, "if I daydream about conventional romanticisms."

A server came to take away the empty tier on their tea set, replacing it with another plate of finger sandwiches. Virgil couldn't place the way Professor Duerr was looking at him; at times he caught that look in other people's eyes too but he was never compelled to discover the specific thought. Certain things were better as mysteries.

"It's not all Ministry crushes." Virgil ignored the fresh sandwiches and picked at a tiny little peach tart, thinking of his clubbing night earlier in the month. "I go to The Closet sometimes, try to meet interesting people. More talk than walk, if I'm being honest," he laughed at himself, gaze lowering.

“Well,” Camille agreed, “if it turns out he might be husband material, I will ready my quill.” She allowed Virgil to go on as she helped herself to more sandwiches, set with an unusual hunger and content to satisfy it with good conversation.

“I go to The Closet sometimes…” Virgil laughed with a sort of self-pity and averted his gaze. Camille did not have to be a legilimens to recognise dismay in a young man. Things came easily to Virgil, from what she could tell, including a social circle at school. Out of the smaller environment and away from structured timetable, a sense of loneliness could take hold.

“This ‘Closet’,” Professor Duerr echoed, gently sucking smeared butter from a sandwich off her bottom lip, “you mentioned it before. It is a pub? A place you go to socialise at night?”

She paused, wondering if either of her sons had mentioned it - Balfour and Johann had an active social life at an entirely different pace to hers. Her fingers clasped the remaining bite of sandwich on the tiny plate in her left hand, as if about to continue eating, when she added a further thought:

“Have you tried clubs?” She posed it innocently, meaning clubs of the hobby or social sort, but unwittingly sounding like she meant the sort the Closet was. “Learning a new hobby can be a wonderful way to meet new friends without alcohol muddying the waters. There’s quite a number advertised on the board over there.” She pointed past Virgil to Puddifoot’s noticeboard beside the counter. “Knitting, hiking, singing, stamp collecting…”

             " It is a pub? A place you go to socialise at night?"

That was... one way to describe the queer nightclub in soho. Virgil swallowed the tart he'd bitten into and nodded, eyes flicking to Professor Duerr's mouth for a second. She was so pretty and enticing. Did wizards not ask her out very often, since she had stopped wearing her wedding ring?

"Clubs!!" he laughed at the suggestion - not meanly but in surprise, mistaking her meaning for just a second. "I haven't, I don't know if I have the patience. They'll be sticking me with knitting needles by the first week," Virgil wriggled his shoulders emphatically as if though he had just been pricked. "I am getting to know some people from outside Hogwarts, though."

Abby came to mind, for one. He'd simply need to make an effort to welcome more people into his social circle if he wanted to make new friends or to distract from his excruciating crush.

"Do you go to any hobby clubs?" Virgil blew on his tea as he defaulted to switching the focus of conversation. "Meet any handsome wizards who don't know how to cast off to save their lives?" he watched the witch curiously.

“Hah!” Professor Duerr exclaimed in amusement. “I am known to play dominoes[1] at the Three Broomsticks. I did join the Hogsmeade Witches Institue[2] but my jam making left a lot to be desired.” She could have cheated and asked the Hogwarts house elves for assistance, but she had been determined to try and do it herself. “They are a perfectly friendly bunch,” she glanced around herself as if checking for spies, “but a bit… old.” Like one-hundred and eighty-two, old.

“No, no handsome wizards outside of family and former students,” she gestured to Virgil, “I have struck up friendship with Professor Singh and Professor Aldridge at the school, so one is never far from intriguing conversation in the staff room.” She smiled to herself, thinking about various gatherings where she had encountered the likes of Angus McBoid. “Why you’ve had no visions of me finding true love in a knitting club have you?”

1.	A Denser Darkness
2.	Women’s Institute, which is how JKR meant Salem to be