0200 hours night of the sixth, University of Cambridge. Anton Schäfer's quarters.


Virgil couldn't sleep, which seemed rather impossible. He can always sleep.

Especially when sharing a bed with another warm body. Anton's arms were a strong and heavy weight across his middle, embracing him from behind. He had tucked himself cosily into the curve of the other boy's body, skin against skin, cosily engulfed. It should be bliss. It normally was - and yet tonight, instead of dissolving into sleep, he found himself struggling not to squirm. Like his skin didn't fit right.

A nearly pregnant moon could be spotted in the bedside window. They had forgotten to draw the curtains and blue light fell across the two golden haired rompers. Anton was fast asleep.

"Fuck," Virgil muttered frustratedly, wondering if he should slip out of bed and apparate home for a sleeping draught. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off again.

Aftershave. His sulky mouth turned down into a frown. Was Anton wearing a new aftershave? Why didn't he notice before? It was awful, the kind of spicy masculine affair that sleazy blokes wore.

            Bang! Bang!

Somebody was thumping the front door. Uni students? It was a Friday night. Virgil grumbled, annoyed. Bang! Bang! He hissed and opened his eyes, sitting up. Something cold sank into his stomach, like lead. He wasn't in Anton's bedroom anymore. It was somebody else's flat, a far cry from Cambridge accommodation. It was dark: vague shapes, a sofa, coffee table.

The banging continued, Virgil facing the door in the tidy front room. This was a vision, it had to be a vision. With a sickening SLAM! the door burst open off its hinges and a voice that wasn't his own suddenly screamed.

A man's voice. In its wake followed a snarl so vivid that he could feel himself shaking in Anton's bed. He had never seen anything like this in a vision before. Outlined by the passage light behind it, a Direwolf lunged at him.

Virgil wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, crouched in front of the toilet. He waited until he felt the nausea subside and then he got to his feet. Slowly, blinking feverishly, eyes red. That was not as smooth as the vision he had about Abby but he couldn't help feeling that their attempts to coax his Seer ability on Mysteries was the reason behind that.

Fate did not enjoy being poked at.

The wizard ran the tap, examining himself in the glaring light of the bathroom mirror. He looked alright. Tired. What to do now? His eyes fell on the yellow ribbon[1] around his slender wrist.

"Fauna..." he said her name out loud, blinking slowly like a cat. From this moment until the full moon, every second counted.

1.	2nd Jan - Why have you come here?

His owl, Odysseus, carried the important message to Fauna Blake, black wings beating heavily in the night. Virgil returned to Anton's flat - he had apparated back to Diagon to send the letter - and climbed back into bed at nearly three in the morning. He couldn't stand to sleep alone in his own. The muggle had dreamt through the entire debacle.

Virgil was glad of it. Imagine if he'd had his vision when they were fucking, earlier? Oh, yeah, sorry Anton, forgot to mention I might go into a white-eyed trance at any moment!

He stripped off again, slipping underneath the duvet and into Anton's arms. The other blone stirred slightly. Virgil twisted around, arms going around those strapping shoulders, burying his face in Anton's neck. Smelling him deeply. Not the sickening aftershave of the vision but the salty sweet musk of sweat and sex and his own bitter perfume.

"Mm, hey..." he roused his companion intentionally now, playfully biting. "Hey, wake up. Wake up, I want you."

And he did. Virgil wanted comfort from something real. The vision wasn't real. Not yet. Perhaps it never would be. This, though, Anton blinking awake in the dead of night, this was real. This could anchor him.