London Docklands, 1600 hours.


Virgil eyed London's cloudy skies with a look of distrust as he stepped off one of the boat homes along the Docklands, a cold breeze catching in his summer parka. It looked like rain. Better to divine from cumulonimbus than cards in this case. He took out a cigarette from behind his ear and glanced around at the boathouse with a slow wave. The older, bearded man on deck waved back between the actions of reeling in some rope.

It was a safe place to apparate - never mind dubious appearances of leaving Marcel's quarters too late or early in the evening. Anyone in the know would also be aware that the squib traded in pure and  potent Gillyweed; he had young men or women coming to and fro all day long. Virgil slipped the little package into his pocket, with the Tarot deck they would be using today.

Finding his way in muggle London grew easier every year. This was the third summer they had been paired as partners for holiday assignments and he had been down frequently enough to pick out the Kemp's warehouse on first sight: a large brick building far in flavour or class from his own neighbourhood.

Virgil found it was a novelty that never grew old.

He shuffled to the warehouse front, leaning against the door as he reached for the bell. If the fates were smiling on him perhaps Indi's mother would not be in the middle of prenatal yogic instruction. Such things do not bear repeating. As if responding to the memory, Virgil rubbed his eyes tiredly.

If it were up to Indi, she probably wouldn’t do her summer assignments until the day before term started.  But, being paired with Virgil, it didn't seem like too much of a chore.  They'd been writing and with the idea to hang out came the summer work they'd been assigned so it became a sort of afterthought in the whole process - and though Indica didn't lie to her parents, there was no need, it was nice to surprise them a little bit with "industriousness" rather than simple hanging out.  They wouldn't have judged her (or her friends) for it, but it seemed like when she'd informed them of her plans for the day, the element of surprise gave her a little rush. 

She never specified how much time they'd spend doing that work though... And It was a lucky thing that even though her parents weren’t home to witness it.  They'd have to take her word for it.  Dad was at the restaurant, as usual, and would be until late.  Her mum would have been home, but she got owled – emergency birth.  So, Indi was home alone, blasting her music out of the wireless. 

Jumping around the living room to the latest Thestral Station hit, “Dementors in Summer” (appropriate given the current events).  She’d heard some older folks complaining, saying it was indecent to make a song about it, but that just made Indi love it a tiny bit more… more than a tiny bit.  Indi yelled the lyrics at the top of her lungs, waving her wand around – no magic applied, of course, and as the riffing guitar started to fade out, she stilled.  Hair was a mess around her face, her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing like she’d just run laps around the quidditch pitch. 

Dancing was a bloody good workout, she realized running her hand through the tangle of wavy hair atop her head.   She was going to flick her wand at the wireless to turn it up – the Screaming Mandrakes were coming up.  It was lucky that it was between songs that the doorbell rang though – a loud, resonant sound – like church bells, and Indica, instead of turning the music up, flicked her wand to turn the wireless off and dash to get the door. 

She went down the stairs to the entry way and flung the large door open – seeing Virgil standing there with a cigarette like he was some bad boy on the cover of Wrock magazine.  “Virgil!” she squealed in greeting, immediately enveloping him in a hug (because that’s just what she did when someone showed up).  “Still easy enough to find, right?” she asked, lifting her head from its nuzzled place on her chest – all part of an appropriate welcome hug, and looked up at his face, “Or did you have to divine your way to our doorstep?” She paused for a moment and then stepped back to grab his hand and pull him inside. 

“How’s summer going?” she looked over her shoulder at him as she led him up the stairs, “Just so you know, my parents are out,” a smirk formed on her face, “won’t be a problem, right?” Teenagers would be teenagers, after all, and even though her parents were the most open people in the world (Virgil’d experienced that before in one horrifying display of downward facing dog and a nine month old pregnant woman), it was still fun to even pretend to sneak things. 

Virgil laughed lightly, accepting the enthusiastic hug with the tolerance of a well-loved cat, and allowed himself to be hauled into the otherwise vacant Kemp premises. His gaze pulled lazily across the warehouse as Indi rattled on her usual greetings (she possessed a boundless source of energy that was tiring to witness). No pregnant women. A good sign.

He glanced up at his classmate as they attempted the stairwell - not really listening until now.

"Humid," Virgil answered without explanation and thought morosely of the mosquito bites on his ankles from their trip to Southeast Asia. "And now it appears we are due rain. My summer has been at the mercy of Himalayan weather patterns and the goodwill of Dyeus[1]."

As he spoke, the sound of falling rain came upon them and one could almost feel the relief of heated sidewalks across London sighing sweetly for their natural state of being. Virgil paused at the top landing of the stairs to procure his deck of tarot cards - the package of gillyweed slipped out and went tumbling down the steps.

He glanced at it and then at Indi, smiling dryly.

"Not a problem at all." Even if the Kemps were home they were hardly restrictive in their practices. "Do you suppose the professor will be able to tell we've divined under the influence?"

1.	Indo-European weather deity

Virgil did not talk quite as much as Indi did, that was for certain. His answers were monosyllabic to start and as they climbed the stairs, he only elaborated enough to talk about the weather.  Glancing back at him, Indi rolled her eyes.  “I would have thought all that time overseas might have taken some of the English out of you,” she commented, “but here it is – first thing you bring up: weather.” 

Shaking her head, Indi teasingly clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.  “Rain makes the plants grow,” she had to put her optimistic spin on it – since it was true, “and alleviates some of that humidity you were just complaining about,” she added with a knowing smirk, planting her foot on the top of the landing that looked into the den and rest of the open floor plan (except for the private rooms of course).  “Don’t be so morose about it,” she added, her eyes drifting to the large, old windows with the bars across them, watching the raindrops splatter and then race down to the bottom.
 
When she was a kid (and sometimes even know), she’d sit with her parents and they’d each pick a drop.  Whichever one hit the bottom first was the winner.  Though her attention was divided, at Virgil’s movement, Indica looked back and realized he was reaching into his pocket – quirking her eyebrows, she pursed her lips and watched a tarot deck come out… and then the real good stuff.

The muscles around her mouth relaxed and a grin replaced the skeptical expression.  “Virgil,” she began, almost patronizing, “aren’t you aware that transcending reality is key to accurate divining?” she asked with mischief clear in her voice, darting down to grab the bag he’d brought.  Her voice took on the airy and ridiculous quality that many of their divination professors had, pressing her finger to her temple, pretending to push.  “It helps open your inner eye,” she turned, brandishing the bag with a flourish in her other hand, “and connect you to the free flowing energy inherent in the universe!”  She laughed harder and took the couple steps back to the top two at a time.  “We’ll probably get Os for our summer assignments,” she informed him.

There was, of course a moment of pause, and Indica shrugged.  “So – given that, maybe,” she smirked, “but I doubt she’d complain.”  Indica didn’t leave much space for him to say anything before she rocked on her toes, “Let’s go to my room – all my stuff is in there.”  She began to walk, leading to the corner of the house where her room was located.  “Try not to drop the cards on the way,” she teased over her shoulder and picked up the pace, happy to get into her bedroom, tossing the baggie on the table, and being on tip toes to grab her wooden box of accessories off the wooden shelves on her wall.  “I’m shite at rolling,” she informed him, “so if that’s what you want, it’s your job.”

Virgil felt his eyebrows lift involuntarily at the notion of opening their inner eyes. He only smoked with people he trusted; still, he was an adept enough Oclumens to trust that his inner eye didn't open all that much when plied with sweet, sultry gillyweed.

One briefly wondered how seriously Indi was about free flowing energies and the new age spiritual movements of her parents. The easiest way not to look a fool about it was to avoid playing cynic. Nobody who made it to NEWT level Divination could completely claim to other-worldly cynicism.

"If we don't get an O, I'm telling Wright it's because your opened inner eye distracted me~" Virgil smirked as he deftly played with the tarot cards in his hands, following her with light footsteps and a low hum in his voice.

Indi's room was prime napping territory. With the rain coming down and the house mystically warm, it was a miracle he didn't instantly curl up on the bed and doze off. The temptation was real. Virgil dropped to one of the beds as they entered, and exchanged tarot cards for box with a facade of mock civility. "Madam. My pleasure"

He considered his hands first: thin and pale, spare little things. It looked like he was praying. And then slowly he lifted the lid to go about the business of it, legs pulled up on the bed. He'd kicked off his shoes.

"Do you have our assignment sheet?" Virgil asked as he took out his wand to mince the gillyweed for their joints. "You can set up the deck. Be careful, it's a family heirloom. I think." He flicked the wand gently and it gently unfurled a sheet of smoking papers. His gaze flickered playfully to Indi's face.  "A dubious grand uncle might have stolen them. We can add that to the report."

Now, it was not out of character for Indi to latch onto the more immature part of a sentence.  “It was just my inner eye?” she play-pouted and put her hands on her hips.  “Then I guess I’m not trying hard enough,” she assessed with a shrug and let her hands fall.  She could have carried on forever with it – even more retorts coming to mind after she’d dropped the sassy hip pop in favor of her causal and relaxed pose.  ”Is that what we’re calling it these days?” that would have been good too.  Cursing to herself, she moved on. 

It didn’t do well to dwell on things that could not be changed and until something less temperamental than a time turner was created and she could efficiently mess with time, she might go back and use one of the million follow up lines she would think of by then.  Or she’d promptly forget in favor of more interesting things – which seemed far more likely as they entered her room. 

It was suited perfectly to what she wanted her room to be – a relaxing place that she could spend her time in when she was there and always be comfortable.   Plus, it was built for more than one person, which suited her (and her couch crashing friends) very well.  She was just glad Virgil accepted his job – she knew he would do it with great care.  When he handed her the cards in exchange, out of habit, Indica immediately started to shuffle.  “I probably have some in a vial in there too,” she noted as her hands continued to move, “use it – it’ll probably be a good mix.”

The cards in her hand moved well, like they’d been shuffled many times and at the suggestion of the assignment sheet she wrinkled her nose for a moment before putting the deck down on the little table next to the Mongolian singing bowls her mother had bought for her, and moved to the book shelf, croching down to the section of her school books.  “Here, somewhere,” she chewed on the bottom of her lip before grabbing out the copy of the NEWTs text.  The assignment, like she thought it would, fell out of the bottom of the book and floated to the floor. 

Reading it over – it was simple enough and she moved back to her bed, leaning into the pillows.  “We have to do a past-present-future spread for another student and interpret it according to this,” she had grabbed the tiny tarot book from her shelf.  “We must create a labeled visual…” she got bored reading and looked up from the paper, watching Virgil for a moment – mincing and unwrapping.  She was definitely much better at just packing a pipe. 

“I’m sure the history of the cards will add at least two points on,” she assessed, pushing herself off of the pillows with her elbow so she could grab the deck again – and her wand, flicking the candles in the room awake (she liked them on, and she had a few wood wick candles that made crackling sounds).  “I’ll shuffle and cut the deck for my reading,” she offered, “while you finish up, and then we can really open our inner eyes,” she snickered and made swift work of her hands. 

Virgil glanced up periodically to consider the NEWT assignment that his friend had finally unearthed, smiling dryly at the idea of Carstairs history coming in useful for homework. Alex might find that amusing.

"Your reading of my fortune?" He finished blending the gillyweed varieties and delicately rolled up the papers by hand. "I don't think we're supposed to shuffle for our own fortunes." Perhaps they were allowed to cut it - he wasn't entirely sure now, having had three blissful months in no proximity whatsoever to their Divination textbooks.

His hands stilled entirely and Virgil lifted the joint with quiet cockiness, meeting Indi's gaze. "Perfection. I would be rather surprised if I drew cards with better skill than this," he danced their smoke on his fingers before exerting the effort to lean over and offer it to the Gryffindor.

A gentleman under all circumstances.

"Ladies first?" Virgil handed it over. "But I'd rather you didn't cavort with Fate until my inner eye is appropriately soused..." he leaned back on his elbows and crossed one lanky leg over the other. His sleepy eyes wandered over to the window, where they saw that the rain was coming down harder than ever. "We'd better note this weather. It's going to have an effect on our cards."

Not that he expected to prognosticate watery graves. If one didn't drown in a monsoon, doing so in a London shower would be exceptionally pathetic.

 “Ah, that is where you are mistaken,” she shook her head.  “You need to shuffle for yourself – your energy seeps into the deck,” she explained.  There were a lot of things that Indica was still working out about what she believed in and what course her life was going to take, but she did believe that you had to be actually touching the deck if you wanted an accurate reading.  There were several treatises on the subject by different diviners.**  “We’ll note it in our write up as well – our preface alone will be worth an O.” 

She laughed and winked at him, her skillful hands stilling with the cards, closing her eyes and letting out a deep breath as she pondered her question about seventh year.  What was the future going to hold and how was this year going to change her life?  She didn’t get overly sentimental, but it was a big year.  When she was satisfied, she opened her eyes and cut the deck before placing it down on the table. 

While it would remain ready for a reading whenever it happened, the prized rolled paper would be utilized much faster.  “I don’t think you can do anything with more skill than this,” she noted appreciatively, leaning to take it from him and examine it. “I’m so lucky you’re so talented,” she complimented and then used her wand to summon a little lighter from the box on the desk. 

She would have used her wand, but it was temperamental sometimes and she didn’t want to risk burning half of the light before they even had a chance to really get to use it.  Once the lighter was in her hand, Indica dropped her wand and pushed herself up so she could go onto the couch with Virgil.  It’d be easier to share if they didn’t have to keep leaning over the table.  Indi was notoriously lazy, so moving once now was much better. 

Taking a lighter to the end, Indica took a slow inhale, watching the red glow at the end, feeling smoke entering her lungs, and she held it out with the lighter (just in case), still burning to Virgil while she held her breath.  Once satisfied, she let out her breath, slowly, the white smoke curling out and Indi opened her eyes as it billowed near the ceiling.  It was an almost immediate feeling.  Her shoulders relaxed and she let her head fall back, hair hanging and brushing against the small of her back before closing her eyes again. 

“I think we’re also supposed to note the proximal locations of the planets, as they could influence our decisions and the reading,” she added, blinking lazily.  “And if we note our astrological signs, then we’re bringing in material from like…” she let out a deep breath, “what? Fifth year?” she pouted her lips thoughtfully.  “Yes, I think that would be good,” and unceremoniously sunk into the pillows. 

---

**I’m just going off random things I’m reading online about tarot card readings and then embellishing.  If I’m wrong just let me know!

Virgil procured a small notebook from his back pocket, skipping past the numbers he'd written up for the summer betting pool to find a blank page while his partner partook in their gillyweed. He began scribbling in shorthand - a stenographer at Adelaide's office once taught him, to the dismay of anyone borrowing his notes.

"I have... planets, respective moons-" the pencil went gliding across the page while he reached out for the joint with his free hand, not looking up. "- positions of relevant constellations." Virgil's eyes flicked up as Indi went crashing on to the couch pillows with her idiosyncratic brand of grace.

That was expeditious.

He nursed the joint without inhaling, letting it sit on his lips while the notes were finished. Better to get their particulars out of the way before they were both too 'distant' for that level of detail. It pained him that such a level of industrious behaviour was required to precede a preferable state of mind.

Casually, Virgil tossed the notebook on to the table and finally breathed in a slow puff of gillyweed smoke - it burned his lungs lightly, sent a wave of pleasant giddiness to his tousled blonde head.

"Right... then..." the joint went behind his ear and he leaned over Indi to fetch the tarot cards. They were soft and pliable in his hands; old game with a new master. "You're first. Past and present and future. Think of a question. Don't tell me what it is." Virgil paused.

The sound of falling rain filled his ears as he stared vacantly at the deck; it was easy to let go of other concerns in the moment. He leaned back against the couch arm and stretched his legs forward, heels on Indi's lap. Listlessly - with the air of a bored savant - Virgil began to draw from the deck. He laid each card softly on the back of the couch where they would both be able to see them in the right order.

Indi’s eyelids were already a little heavy from the inhale.  It was good stuff, she had noted and closed her eyes for a moment as Virgil talked about the moon and the related position of the constellations.  She finally opened her eyes with a large sigh, seeing him holding the pencil over the parchment and actually doing part of the assignment – making notes, at the very least. 

Indica would say everything that needed to be said in the assignment but she didn’t want to write it down.  Bless him for being so industrious, because the loaf of a human being that was Indica Kemp did not want to write.  Her arms were feeling a little heavy anyway.  She was glad that Virgil was going to read her first. 

She turned her head to look at her and hummed as she thought of her question.  It called for closing her eyes again, of course, because she had to send the question to the cards: “What will my Hogwarts legacy be?”  It was a great question to ponder on the eve of leaving for the last time.  When his feet came into her lap, Indica’s hands immediately began to move and Indi lazily rubbed his feet while he started the reading. 

In order to see the cards, she turned her head a little bit and raised her eyebrows as each was laid down: The moon for the past, the queen of pentacles for the present, and the two of swords for the future – all right side up.  She recognized some of it, of course, but couldn’t really put her thumb on what it meant… it’d been far too long from when she’d pulled this sort of thing out of her wheelhouse.  Much more apt to practice other subjects over the summer months. 

“Use the book,” she motioned with her chin toward the interpretation book.  Her hands were still moving on his feet, albeit lazily.  She wasn't grossed out by feet, and she always needed something to do with her hands.  She knew the massage principles for feet and hoped she was hitting the right pressure points, since she wasn't watching what she was doing, far more concerned with what was going on behind her on the couch and the feeling of exquisite warmth and happiness accented by the sound of rain on the big windows.

---

1 – Where I got the Tarot spread from.  I just left out the overall card reading.   

Virgil stared at the cards for a moment longer than was normal - his thoughts floated beyond reach until he reigned them in and finally moved, leaning over to the table for the book. Which they wouldn't normally need but there wasn't a point in risking memory for an assignment that didn't prohibit it.

He wriggled his toes as Indi administered what another person might have considered a ticklish nightmare. It was pleasant.

"In your past, the illustrious Moon-" Virgil announced deadpan and flipped through the pages. "- to indicate dreams." Smiling distantly, he stopped at the page. Dreams. He did so love dreaming. "You have had, or will have through past events, a chance to work at a satisfying relationship. There is also... the support of other women." That was an easy read and it went into their notebook without hesitation.

Virgil drew out their gillyweed joint again and took a breath while he read up the other two cards. The silence felt comfortable against the rain. No need to rush these things.

"Queen of Pentacles in your present." He crossed out the possibility of parenthood on account of assuming that while Indi was rather relaxed, she was also reasonably safe about such things. "You are creating prosperity and harmony. No argument there." Virgil passed her the joint. "Elements of beauty and wealth. Home. And... hm. Nurturing woman. That's repetition. It must mean something."

A Divination lesson proverb: it must mean something.

"But alas, no women in your future?" he glanced at his classmate with half a question in his eyes. "Two of Swords. Indica Kemp. You will come to an equilibrium but must ultimately face your problems through-" Virgil closed the book and tossed it on to her lap. "-through emotional control." His lips melted into a long, listless smile before he let his head drop on to the couch arm. A laugh escaped him.

Emotional control did not sound like an Indi proclivity. Still. Stranger things have happened. He stared at the ceiling while his hands worked the cards, shuffling lightly.

Indica smiled amusedly as Virgil began the reading.  There was something about dreams and Indi liked that – the past was represented by dreams.  Interesting.  Maybe it was that she had been living sort of dreamily – were things going to change?  Of course, when he said support of other women, Indica couldn’t help but wiggle her eyebrows at him.  “Dreams and women?” she questioned, “sounds like a great past,” she teased and rested her hands for a moment.

It was hard to continue massaging someone’s feet for an extended period of time.  Despite her dexterity, she was feeling a little lazy, the rain and the gillyweed not really helping much with that.  After he took another hit, Indica reached forward and waited for it to be put in her hand so she could do the same.

When it was handed over to her, Indi took a draw as well and watched as the smoke from his puff dissipated in the air, some of it still swirling before it would melt into the rest of the air and then let out her own hit in a slow exhale.  She still couldn’t blow smoke rings, no matter how much she tried, but she did get very good at holding her breath for as long as possible.  Came in handy for more than just smoking.

Leaning back she closed her eyes, listening about the Queen of Pentacles.  Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought that perhaps it meant something else, but she opened one of her eyes to look at him, holding the joint back to him when he noted it must mean something.  “Mmmm,” she hummed, “probably that I’ve managed to shag half the girls in school.  I’ve been told I’m very nurturing,” she laughed and her head rolled, everything was so relaxed and an easy (non-fading) smile was etched onto her face. 

The future though, that made her wrinkle her nose, even if she couldn’t stop smiling.  She really wanted to stop smiling for that bit, but gillyweed made it extra hard.  “That sounds horrible,” she laughed and shook her head.  “No women? Emotional control?” Indi slumped into the pillows and let her arms hang by her side.  “That sounds like growing up.” 

“Growing up sounds awful,” she pointed out before she attempted to sit up.  This was met with failure as she fell back into the pillows again.  “Ugh, honestly, I hope we’re wrong if that’s what it’s looking like for me.”  The rain sounds on the window made her want to just curl up.  Instead, she settled for closing her eyes again.  “Did you write all that down?” she frowned, “dun wanna forget before I read you.” 

Virgil slid the tarot deck across the back of the couch as he listened to her personal interpretation of his objective reading.

Often, using cards to envisage the future felt like trying to see Merlin's face in the clouds. You saw what you wanted to see and it worked for the assignment but could retrospectively look... bizarre. He laughed to himself quietly and let his gaze glide over to Indi as she complained about her prediction. "Growing up sounds awful," she intoned. He hummed in agreement. Vagueness was their friend.

Her query had him sitting up again, reluctantly. Virgil slumped forward to make a quick note of Indi's reactions to the reading and then looked at her with somnolency. "Noted. We shan't forget." He had taken the joint from her although it rested on his lips without use. A question first. A question needed to be sent out into the void.

He cracked a smile. Void. Why was that word funny.

Virgil closed his eyes and asked the air: What will happen to me after Hogwarts? The phrasing was awkward, made it sound as if though life were a thing that pressed itself on people like a natural disaster. "I have sailed my enquiry into the void," the Slytherin slumped back and finally drew in another puff of gillyweed. He caught sight of the grey sky outside - vexing Londoners but calming him. "You may draw my fate, oh wise mistress."

Blowing a deep breath out of her nose, Indica nodded when he slid the cards to her.  That meant she had to sit up.  Willing all of her strength back into her arms, she lethargically rose from the pillows and stretched her back, a heavy sigh escaping her as she managed to overcome her laziness and make moves.   Virgil was slumped over the table jotting things down and it was her turn to read. 

Putting her arms out in front of her, she laced her fingers and heard a pop in her shoulders as she pushed forward and immediately relaxed.  Something had been tight, but now that it was taken care of and she could look at him through hooded lids, “Just an insurance policy.  It’d be terrible to have to do all of this all over again,” she commented.

Neither of them were particularly driven students.  If they didn’t do part of the assignment they’d either leave it out entirely or just make it up.  Which, wasn’t necessarily a problem but if they were going through the trouble of doing it… they might as well do it right.  Glancing at him before she touched the cards, Indica waited for him to let her know his question and grinned as he told her she could proceed.  “Prepare yourself for my expert reading,” she informed him and cleared her throat as she rested the book on her lap while she flipped each card with care. 

“Your past… a three of pentacles,” she informed him, flipping open the book as a tool and briefly skimmed the passage before continuing, “Skills and making use of talent.  You were comfortable and peaceful with your work,” she informed him, “and you’ve made steady progress.  You’ve earned a reputation for quality work,” she grinned at him.  Well, she supposed in some things that might have been true. 

She looked down to the present potion – justice.  Her fingers deftly flipped and blinked.  There was a lot there.  “Justice in the present means you’re searching for truth and justice.  How valiant!” her aside was meant lovingly and she licked her bottom lip before continuing, “You strive for balance and remain impartial – fair judgment… Not being swayed by others and doing the right thing no matter what.”  Indi nodded appreciatively.  “I like this card for you,” she smirked.  She liked it for anyone, really.  She wished she had it in her reading!  It might have actually told her about something. 

Whatever the case, there was a last card to read: the illusive future card.  “The emperor!” she announced a little louder than she intended – side effect of the gillyweed.  “A man of power and responsibility,” she looked over at him and let her eyes do the lift slide over him.  Not entirely out of the realm of possibility.  “Strong, masculine influence.  Fatherly figure… Oooooh,” her grin widened, “masculine, sexual energy,” she wiggled her eyebrows.  “Flexible mind, relaxed authority – courage, reason over emotion, and thoughts for the greater good.” 

Closing the book, Indica looked over at him and then back at the cards.  “Future minister of magic in my very room?  What would the Prophet say if they knew he was nursing a joint and divining under the influence?” 

Virgil interlocked his fingers and laid back to listen to the future as the cards - or Indi - saw it. He took these things lying down, both literally and figuratively.

"A reputation for quality work..." he echoed in a much slower and more thoughtful voice as the three of pentacles surfaced in his mind's eye. Whether the image drifted from the subconscious or Indi's own thought stream didn't seem to matter at this point. The three figures of the card swam behind Virgil's closed eyes. When had he even closed his eyes?

The question went unanswered as his brow wrinkled in worry. He knew what talent was intended by the cards but calling it 'work' made him uncomfortable in his own skin. It was the implication that Leglimency might be his path rather than a backdrop to ambition.

He nearly jumped when Indi exclaimed "How valiant!" The Slytherin blinked open his eyes to stare at her with mock incredulity. Justice. "That implies I have a just sense of morality," his voice slipped out as if though it belonged to someone else. "Or that the deck abides by mine."

They would have to discuss it later, whether ownership of a tarot deck influenced the relative scales of what was right or wrong. Carstairs morality. A fascinating topic to broach with cousin Alex.

Virgil sat up to listen to his future, fidgeting restlessly all of a sudden. Food. That's what they needed. He stared at Indi and hunched over to tap her elbow, grabbing the emperor card. The crowned man stared at them sombrely. "Query. Am I this masculine, sexual energy-" his elfish countenance scarcely indicated it, "- or shall I meet him? Fickle emperor."

Thinking that the emperor had winked at him, Virgil returned the card to Indi and decided that it was better to go over that possibility in a less influenced capacity. He swung his legs to the floor. "The Daily Prophet does not think so much as it vocalises its basest feelings. But I think it would want you to provide nourishment, as is the case for all politicians under the influence."