He smiled to himself, warmed by a sense of anticipation. Virgil liked sex. A lot. It had been something of a gradual revelation when he left Hogwarts and realised the menu of the world was open to him - in a way, Ceph had been a catalyst for that.

            "Did you ever talk about vampires with Ceph?" Wav asked, seemingly out of the blue, as if plucking the name from his mind.

"Um," he paused to consider, idly eyeing a group of smokers across the rooftop. "Yes. He was openminded about it, I even told him about my..."

Virgil touched his neck. The bite he never hid. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to go back and get bitten on his own terms, by someone who wasn't Terry Hooker. He doubted the coven leader would hold it against him, seeing as how he never made a report about what had gone down with Nemo.

"I think he was friendly with whatashisname," Virgil frowned, trying to chase after the name. "Vaillan... Vaillan... Tristan. Ministry vamp."

Although he couldn't remember now just how friendly, not that it mattered. As much as V used to get blue over Cepheus seeing other people before, it didn't really matter after they were actually in a relationship. He wasn't the jealous sort.

"Would you sleep with a vampire?" he raised his eyebrows at Wav, and then almost immediately bit his tongue.

Waverly had been assaulted and bitten by Hooker, and Virgil had altered her memory to remove the bite; the rest was still in there. Apparently he altered it so well that he almost forgot all about the sordid affair for all of five minutes.

"No," Waverly answered quickly with a disgusted grimace.

Vampires weren't human: a fact that was all the more real now that she knew what their skin felt like, their impossible strength, their sharky eyes. Nothing about anyone at that Hookers' place was soft or curious or caring. Not Terrence, but not any of the others either. It had felt like they'd wanted all of her, she remembered still, and that there would have been nothing but convention to stop them from doing ... whatever.

"No," she repeated with a squirm. "Just, no."

She didn't want to explain why, but - wait: "Did Cepheus? Fuck a vampire, who'd you say? Tristan?"

Waverly didn't fully catch what 'Ministry vamp' meant, but the implication was legible.

Taking into account her experiences, Virgil supposed he shouldn't be surprised by her disgust. But he was, a little. It seemed like just another thrill to him - balancing on the knife's edge of danger and vulnerability.

The subject looped back to Cepheus, naturally.

"I don't remember if he did say, you know, explicitly," the blond pushed his bottom lip out, humming. "But I don't think it would've bothered him. Like I said. Openminded."

He was struggling to recall what exactly Cepheus told him but it seemed too much an effort to bother, with gillyweed tempting his thoughts elsewhere. And Virgil wasn't sure if it felt right to tell Wav about the older wizard's sexual history anyway. It felt too private, for someone she hardly knew.

"I'd be open to it though," he added with an odd smile, dark look in his eyes. "I think it's sexy."

"Damn, V," Waverly mumbled, a light grin resting on her lips. "You do whatever you want, don't you."

For a moment, she thought she didn't know him at all, but then reminded herself that he hadn't changed. They were drunk, high, talking. They were the same as always. Just talking. He could take them all for himself if he wanted, the vampires. Even if she'd wanted to visit again ...

"Now a ghost," she said with a sudden upwelling of the giggles. "Uh-huh, I'd absolutely do it with a ghost."

His smile widened into a grimace, nose wrinkled up, and Virgil laughed. "That's freaky, Wav."

Vampires looked human enough to be touched, felt. They were of the dead, in a way, but the line between two worlds was so much more distinct when it came to ghosts.... okay, no, he just thought it would be so weird.

He was about to say as much when Malachi emerged onto the roof, carrying a couple of canned drinks - he was stopped by someone at the door, though, no doubt another acquaintance of many saying hello. Friends everywhere, Reids.

"What about Mal?" Virgil dipped his chin, voice low and coquettish. "Not your type?"

"No...!" Waverly insisted with a little whine and gave him the gentlest kick, just the barest bump of her booted heel. "Stoppit."

If there was more to Malachi than an uncozy look of a beloved hairless cat, Waverly wasn't available to see it. Virgil was pressing her patience now, and it was a bit thin at the moment.

She was, actually, pleased her drink was on its way over, and was thinking now about the evening's turning point when decisions had to be made. This couch had to be an interlude or else it would be an end. Inertia was real. She imagined herself getting to her feet again and maybe lifting off the ground. The gillyweed was making its presence known.

"Mal, hey, over here," she said lowly, pretending she thought he had lost his way. She waved at him from the couch.

Virgil cackled giddily at her response, feeling every inch the annoying big brother he was to Cecil. "Right, no vampires and no Reids..."

It was a small but special pleasure to annoy someone - he had been afraid to tease or bother Cepheus too much, afraid the older wizard would realise just how sharp a tongue he was kissing on the regular.

      "Getting comfortable I see?" Mal drawled when he at last returned.

"Too comfortable," he replied as he accepted the can of Cryptic Cola![1] and smiled affectionately at the other wizard. "Thanks. Not keeping you from pulling are we?"

Virgil vaguely gestured in the direction of the bloke who'd accosted him earlier. Malachi - who wasn't drinking, and who he realised was much more clearheaded - perched on the sofa arm to light a cigarette. "The night's young," he shrugged. "Drink up."

The can opened with a hiss, metallic scent underneath the stronger one of... cotton candy. Oo, he liked that. Virgil sipped, glancing at Mal for a second. Mal who was watching with that little frown again.

"What did you get?" he pushed a suspicion away and poked Waverly's thigh. "Mine's sweet as fuck."

1.	'A mystery flavour in every can!'

Virgil said 'too comfortable' and Waverly made sure to look like it for a moment or two more. But she had to get her feet on the ground, both of them, before she floated away. She sat up and took the kindly delivered soda pop.

"Lime Bibbidi."[1] The can was tall and thin, marketed to witches. The cold and sharp carbonation was a welcome shock. She'd tuned into whatever was a little different with Mal, now - maybe he'd noticed her being rude.

"He's right," she said of Mal to Virgil. "The night's young. Let's get out of here or I'll grow roots."

1.	'Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo!' - Lightly flavored fizzy drink with textured popping boba bubbles and caffeine.

He pulled a face, not all that keen on citrus and very glad indeed that he'd been given the other.

Sugar and caffeine were already working their magic - it gave legs to his cloudy high. Virgil nearly laughed when Waverly almost immediately put their departure into words. Not that he was complaining; sitting here with her had him wishing he were someplace warmer, free to press naked skin against naked skin.

"Roots? I might petrify," he muttered. "Can we apparate from here? I never tried."

The rooftop was still fairly new after all. Malachi was smiling. "Yeah, think so. You alright to apparate though?"

Again, that concern, and this time he sighed. "Stop worrying," he paused to take a long swallow of Cola. "I'm fine, Mal."

Virgil shifted, patting Waverly's leg to dislodge it so that he could drag himself up in a skywards stretch. God that felt good. He slipped a hand onto the other wizard's shoulder, drawing close to press the can into his free hand.

"You don't have to babysit." V pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and then stole a puff off the cigarette. "Go rescue someone else, I'm just peachy."

He drew his wand smartly, glancing cheerfully back to Wav. "Are you a tree yet or can we go?"

Waverly got up at Virgil's prompting, not that she'd been dragging behind, she was just like that - everything in her own time. She wove her arm into the crook of Virgil's elbow, a signal she was asking for a Side-Along. Virgil might be good for the old 'pop' but Wav felt her lack of orientation in space and time. She didn't fancy ending the night at St. Mungo's.

"You take care, Mal," she said. She decided not to mind Virgil's peck for him. It would be desperate to feel otherwise.

"Lovely meeting you. Thanks for the drink."

As he drew breath to focus, to apparate, he smiled at Malachi. The other wizard lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave: they would see each other again, soon, probably. Tonight worlds wouldn't collide. Those neat circles he kept separate from each other -  groups of friends, lovers, workers, enemies. Each familiar with their own version of Peter Pan.


Apparating hadn't been that tricky. Virgil never mixed alcohol with gillyweed so he wasn't as far gone as Waverly. When they got into her flat, he leaned back against the front door to shut it and was still for a second.

He shared a memory with her, a memory of coming back to this very home and to a fanged intruder. Except Virgil remembered the worse part of it. The bite. He pushed this thought aside; gillyweed made that easy, easy to float away on softer sensations and sweeter thoughts.

"Fuck. I left my jacket at the coat check," he muttered to cover up the change in mood, and rubbed his face, laughing himself back into the flow of things. "Typical."

#4C Burgoyne Burbidges Lofts

Waverly felt fresh and amazing being in her place away from the noise and crowd of the club. She'd loved it there, and now she loved it here. Virgil looked a little glum about his coat. After having checked Gabby was indeed out, Wave went over to where Virgil was at the door, took his hand and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"We'll get them later," she said. She'd left hers too.

Morning

Wav sat on the edge of her bed facing the arched window and moved her head from side to side, trying to gently work out a kink. She'd not been good to herself the night before, eschewing her routine in favor of glory and delight. Sun came in the arched window on the exterior wall which was fashionably exposed brick. Her bed was a single but comfortable with several blankets of varying textures and weights, for whatever she wanted. She wasn't tidy. A chair held many forgotten things, among them a red paisley scarf that she wouldn't remember owning, if you asked.[1]

She turned back to the bed and patted the sheets.

"I fell asleep," she admitted, her voice groggy. She was talking to Virgil, who'd been part and party of all that glory and delight.

1.	"He was wearing a black suit, unbuttoned - and a red paisley neck scarf, which he undid and left carelessly on her nightstand." -- 12 Feb 2012 - Some Blood in the Cut [M]

He was slow to rouse at first, lost to that particular quality of kelp-ridden sleep. Foggy, sticky, dreams reluctant to pull away.

"Mm," Virgil rubbed his eyes as he sat up - her nest of blankets were especially difficult to leave and he pulled one over his bare shoulders with a shiver. "You and me both."

Waverly came into focus, perched on the edge of the bed with wondrous curls spiraling in all directions. Ah. She had the rare gift of looking sexy the morning after a good fuck; he knew his own bedhead to appear much less charming in its disarray. Cepheus was lovely in the mornings too. Soft and warm with sleep and musk and...

"What time is it?" he yawned and stopped himself short of recollection, glancing at the window to gauge the light of day. "I feel like I slept a decade."

His thoughts were gaining clarity with each passing second; they always did after a lot of gillyweed, the contrast making normality seem all the more whetted by unreality.

Virgil showed his head and Waverly smiled groggily. His bedhead was extreme, sticking out all directions, like he'd been designed that way by a theatre hair and make-up department.

"Half ten," she replied. A kitty cat clock told her so.

A dream was coming back to her. How odd - she never remembered dreams on alcohol nights. "I dreamed Mal was a vampire," she said neutrally. "And that he joined us."

She leaned for her wand and then summoned over a big sweater from the wardrobe and a pair of loose trousers. "I'm going to get coffee. They have breakfast stuff, too," she offered.[1]

1.	Blackwood Cafe

He snorted a laugh at the content of Waverly's dreamscape. "Mm, kinky," Virgil yawned, stretching his arms overhead. "Not sure Mal woul approve."

Sexy, though. A shame the two didn't click.

Back at school he'd fooled around with Eli Amherst and Indy Kemp, a trifecta of gillyweed-riddled sex. Those memories seemed decadent now; maybe he was letting post-Hogwarts life weigh on him too much. The demand to be grown up amplified by an older boyfriend. Maybe it was a good thing to go back to those casual, simpler thrills.


"Hold up," Virgil muttered as he took a final drag on his cigarette before stubbing it in the porcelain pill box he used as a portable ashtray.

They were standing just outside of Blackwood Cafe - he'd borrowed a denim jacket off Wav to go over yesterday's clothes, and was in desperate need of coffee. Washing one's face with cold water did wonders but it was no substitute for a double shot espresso.

East London wasn't his scene; he had been to parties here and there but was lagging behind on the trendiness of it all. This was Waverly's territory and she had good taste. The smell of well-brewed coffee hit him in a wave as they joined the soft hubbub of Sunday layabouts.

"Sandwiches," he exclaimed softly, eyes on the menu behind the counter. Virgil bumped shoulders with his friend, smiling. "My treat? I've got muggle cash."

Like any wix who navigated both worlds, V was never without.