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"Name please."
"Arcturus Hollingbury. A-R-C-T-U-R-…"

Florescent white light felt like midday sunlight stood at the high desk, the custody sergeant peering across at him as he typed into the computer. The whole place was extraordinarily muggle. It was bustling, and there were comings and goings all around them. He was flanked by a constable who vaguely reminded him of Omari Warrington. Behind him, he heard Balfour, but visibly showed no reaction to his partner's noise.

"Date of birth?"
"Twenty-third of January, 1980." He recited without hesitation.

Dinner and a show. Well. Right in more than one way, as it turned out. Turned out that Johann's rather vocal appreciations for Balfour also attracted the long arm of the law. There was the risk of getting caught, and the getting caught.

The officer to Johann's right certainly had seen more than most people bargained to see on an evening out. Balfour wasn't complaining, that was for certain, but it turned out that when one was caught by a Muggle police officer, it breached a couple of Acts, and potentially 'outraged public decency.'

Johann hardly thought tonight was an 'outrage' in comparison to some of their escapades, but he wasn't admitting that to either the Custody Sergeant or the Constable beside him.

"Address."
"25 Stuart Road, Acton, London," Johann screwed his face up a moment to recall what Muggles called a post code: "W3 6DG."

The Constable beside him began to give him commands to take off his coat and empty his pockets while he also began to search him. He glanced over his shoulder to Balfour as it happened,
"Felt up twice in a night," He grinned though the humour didn't sit so well with the Muggles, so Johann rolled his eyes and shrugged, turning back to the desk when prompted.

Balfour Spectre had no regrets.

Well, right now perhaps, slightly. He waited behind his partner with a neutral and vaguely tickled expression that anyone might have upon being taken down to the police station on Valentine's night - or at least he hoped so, having never been arrested by muggles before. Certainly never for this.

The wizard choked on air as Johann gave Hollingbury's name, covering it up with a loud cough that caught the attention of a few uniformed men in the teeming station. Christ.

Organised lot. He preferred a red robed Auror any day.

His gaze, still glimmering with a touch of mischief from their romp in the outdoors, followed the Constable's hands on Johann's person while the fellow behind the desk began to note each of the items that had been extricated.

"I think you were more than felt up in the park, dear..." Balfour remarked and ignored the unimpressed glances. He was already contemplating what to do to one another when they got home after all this dreadful nonsense, made a bit jealous by someone else's hands on Johann.

Hardly dressed in the chilly February night was pleasant, thrilling, but right now the notion of bare skin against a plush rug in front of the fire place seemed...

            "What's this?"

Balfour's heart stammered uncertainly, eyes flicking straight to the clinical surface of the desk to register the wand being held up and examined with care. A ridiculous thought burbled into his head and he'd drunk just the right amount of wine at dinner not to want to suppress it.

The two wizards spoke simultaneously.

            "Antique--"
"Sex toy."

He didn't blink, smoothly amending as he met with the investigating officer's startled look. "Antique sex toy, really."

Never had he ever seen a person drop something so quickly.

His accent since being caught earlier was hard - strong vowels and emphasised Rs. American, very similar to the one he slipped into for the Haunting Hour. It was a reflex as well as being, he realised whilst stepping forward to be processed, his saving grace.

            "Hrmh. Name."
"Donovan. Uh, Garrick Donovan." Balfour smiled to cover up his panicked thoughts, racing to dig out as much information about Rick as he could recollect. "Octo-- no, um, August twenty-third. 1980."

Merlin help him if he didn't look his age - he was at least giddy enough from their tryst for his hesitation to seem natural. His attention dropped to the tiled floor, catching light off ghastly fluorescent bulbs, and he rattled off answers in a halting fashion.

"I can't remember the um, post code. Sorry about that," an apologetic smile as if to say oh you British and your weird postcodes.

But it seemed as if though the muggle had found what he was looking for in that computer box, so Balfour began to remove his peacoat and belongings. Keys, the odd knut, a fountain pen, spectacles...

The celtic engraved wand was eyed with red-faced suspicion as he placed it on the desk, trying to keep a straight face. "Do I get to make a phone call? Do you guys do that here?"

While Balfour was also going through the questions and emptying his pockets, Johann's well-loved wool coat and everything he had in his pockets were dragged over the desk to be stowed away in labelled bags. He was directed back to be measured for his height, just wearing shirt and trousers. At least he was now more dressed than he'd been in the park when the torch had swung over them both. He grinned to himself about the memory of the gruff accusations and orders to cover up.

"Three sherbet lemons and a pocket watch. No mobile phone…" The custody sergeant pressed the keyboard and finished clattering his fingers across it a moment while the officer manhandling Johann confirmed his height now his belongings were recorded.

Rick and Arc might kill them some day, depending on how the situation panned out. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it. Explaining why he wasn't known to any official authorities as a citizen of the UK or abroad was going to be more difficult, he reasoned internally, obliging the request to stand still instead of fidgeting.

"… Do you guys do that here?" Balfour was keeping up a very good pretence of the accent throughout the processing.
"We can call someone to let them know you're here." the custody sergeant informed Balfour efficiently and then glanced across to Johann to see if he was interested in such an offer.

There wasn't any good telephoning someone. The only telephone number Johann knew by heart of any significance was to telephone the rib shack restaurant from Balfour's phone in the Atreus flat to order food, and Balfour’s number. It was rather a novelty. He knew a handful of people who had telephones - Adelia included, but he had no idea what their telephone number was, or that he wanted her to know where he'd ended up. To his inebriated relief it appeared Balfour knew who he wanted to ring.

"Wait here." The constable instructed, and Johann plonked himself unceremoniously down on a bench anchored to the floor while Balfour went through the same questions he had just been through, establishing whether he'd be a danger to himself. At the angle Johann was sat he enjoyed a good gawp of his lover from behind while he was patted down and began to giggle. He was thinking about how the Muggle Policemen had reacted to the descriptions of what their wands were. Merlin, they best get them back.

"No one wants to know what we've got up to." He chuckled to Balfour as the phone was turned round on the high metal desk for Balfour to use. "How long are we going to be here?"
"As long as it takes." The response was the same one delivered perhaps a thousand times. The wizard rolled his eyes and stuck out his feet, drumming his heels on the floor like a disobedient child.
"Nobody saw us!" Johann protested, rather keen to return to Atreus and continue their valentines night rather than spend time in a police station. Nobody apart from two police officers, at least, and whoever called them.... and perhaps a dog walker, three students and possibly that late night jogger but he had those music things in each ear. Feeling his protest fell on deaf ears, he flopped back against the wall and made a face. It was that sort of protest and the evasive answers that had brought them in here rather than being scolded in the cold.

Balfour's dialling neatly distracted Johann from his whining and he hopped to his feet despite orders otherwise, joining Balfour at the desk to lean in and eavesdrop on the other end of the line.

With his coat and blazer peeled off, Balfour's state of disarray was rather more obvious - the glare of police station lighting did not help. Crumpled trousers, untucked shirtsleeves done up so absently that several buttons had not found their homes. Smudges of dirt at his elbows where he had leaned back in the bushes...

The wizard bit back a smirk while their Constable patted him down, and braved a deadpan wink  as they finished up height and fingerprints. Thankfully neither he nor Rick were in the system.

"...wants to know what we've got up to."  Johann spoke from the bench, and he could feel his partner's gaze from behind. It sent a mischievous prickle of affection down his spine.

Damn good thing Witch Weekly probably would not report on this.

He considered the telephone being slid across the counter for use. Ugly! Boxlike! Nothing at all like the rotary they kept at Atreus. The officers, disconcerted, watched him lift the receiver and test its weight experimentally. No. Decidedly distasteful in its modernity.


0... 2.... 0....

Balfour dialled slowly, concentrating. He didn't have Joh's excellent memory but knew three phone numbers off the top of his head. Ira Almasy's, his own, and Harriet Lanningham's. The choice was clear.

Ignoring the Constable's reproach, Johann was at his side in a heartbeat - Balfour glanced up as the phone on the other end rang, and smiled at his lover ruefully. They had both been evasive at best, caught in the park. His fell upon the pale neck with its many bitten red marks, right hand reaching across to neatly button up Johann's collar.

            "Hello?" his secretary's alert, somewhat confused voice answered.
"Hello! Mrs L... ah, it's... it's me. Garrick."
            "Gaa- ah. Garrick," a patient and maternal pause. "Is something the matter?"

Glancing up at the officer across the desk, Balfour mouthed 'our Landlady', unnecessarily embelishing.

"Listen. J- Arc and I have got ourselves into a hell of a situation here. Might not be back tonight." He cleared his throat and didn't wait for a reply to mention to which police station they'd been dragged down. "So if you could ah, send someone around to make sure we're... alright."

His ears were burning, cheeks not far off.

            "Arcturus and you." Mrs Lanningham repeated testily. "Of course." The phone clicked off, Balfour frowning. That was a yes, wasn't it? The witch had absolutely no phone manners.

He replaced the receiver and glanced at Johann with a shrug. They were both at the desk now, the officer behind it giving them a dry stare that implied a terrifying sensitisation towards these arrests. "Would you like a solicitor?" he asked evenly.

Balfour thought of Nate, smiling,  but shook his head. They wouldn't need one, even he knew that. This was bloody ridiculous. He'd said as much at the park, though perhaps that might have been unwise at the time.

"No thanks," he exchanged a look with Joh to confirm that neither of them would be asking for one.

Mrs L - of course! Stroke of genius. Johann cocked his head to try and overhear the phone, though it wasn't all that quiet around them.
"Arcturus and you." He made out on the other end, and was suitably impressed at Mrs Lanningham's memory since Balfour had used the shortened name instead. Nothing got past that woman, she was a credit to the British Ministry.

"Is she…?" Johann asked, a little puzzled once Balfour replaced the receiver. His lover shrugged. Johann reached up and ruffled his black curls, dislodging a brown leaf he didn't know was there. The custody sergeant was asking them if they would like a solicitor, which Balfour declined.

"No, no…" Johann echoed, sliding the leaf onto the edge of the desk, absentmindedly wondering if they wanted to log it as another of his belongings.

"M6 for Mr Hollingbury, M7 for Mr Donovan." The Custody Sergeant eventually instructed their arresting officers, not before offering them the Codes of Practice to read, which Johann accepted merely for the interest of perusing a Muggle document. Cooperatively the two of them were led down the corridor, beyond past a line of cells, each with a pair of shoes outside. Johann’s gaze took in everything rapidly, part natural curiosity, part consideration for escape. It smelled distinctly of bleach here, and was entirely unwelcoming.

The door of M2 shook as they passed, a foot kicking the door from within, gruff East-end accent demanding to know how much longer he had to wait.
"Shoes off." It was like being asked to come into someone's house with new carpets, Johann reflected, only the sight of the cell within with the tiles and scrapes and scratches was anything but homely. Especially the stainless steel toilet.

Under the pretence of stumbling with taking off his shoes he seized Balfour's arm, stealing a kiss. He was rather apprehensive about being locked up by Muggles now it was happening. Being without his wand entirely - even if he didn't always have it about his person at home - was very strange. His stomach twisted anxiously.

"Love you." He told Balfour, ignoring the chivvying. A hand seized his arm above the elbow to encourage him in to the cell on the left side of the corridor while Balfour was encouraged into the one near opposite.

The doors were pulled shut with heavy clunks, and the hatches closed up. Johann looked up and around him, examining the raised step and the thinnest plastic mattress, the standard issue blanket, and dropped onto it the codes of practice book he'd taken. He returned to run his fingers over the door onto to find he couldn't open the hatch. That was it for looking at Balfour for however long it was going to be.

"Hey Ba--- aah- -- Rick!" Johann called, raising his voice towards the door. "What do you think of the accommodation?" He paused, listening, "Did you choose this hotel or me for Valentines day? Because we only needed one room, or is this Mrs L's way of telling us we did it in your office once too often?" He chuckled to himself.

It had all been a bit of song and dance, fun and games, the whole procession. Novelties. Except now it wasn’t, not really. Johann’s love you and the much too fleeting kiss sent a chilling shiver all throughout Balfour as they were ushered into separate cells. Dismal boxes in a dismal building “I love you too,” he  murmured with heart in throat.

They wouldn’t be sharing a cell and even though he knew this it still came as a bitter surprise.  The door locked him into the lonely silence of an impersonal room and he stood in front of it without moving.A hand reached up to the hatch and then slightly below, resting flatly. He couldn’t even see his lover but felt relieved on hearing Johann’s voice echoing across the corridor.

“Sorry, love!” Balfour called back in a forced, cheerful voice. “I’ll make it up to you when we get out…” he pressed his forehead against the cool surface. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Slow breathes. An innate struggle against the sensation of being trapped, everything beneath the surface of his skin quivering restlessly. Caged animals. He hated caging animals. His lips twitched irritably, fists opening and closing with each deliberate breath. They would be out in time. This wasn’t permanent. This wasn't permanent. This wasn't permanent.

The scent of chemicals and metals Fresh air, eventually, he kept telling himself. Shit. Fuck.

Balfour turned around, stared inwards into the cell and began to pace the perimeter walls. His bare bare feet led him to the unwelcoming bed.

“Um. Hey. Arcturus..." he sat down on the mattress with head in hands, shut his eyes to pretend for a moment that he wasn’t here - wasn’t in a small room he couldn’t escape, wasn’t forcibly separated from human contact. Tried to think instead of the forest on the estate. Tall, multitudes of trees and lush wide spaces. Running through that great expanse. Samhain, pressed up against his partner in the cool night air.

His skin was itching to be touched by anyone but mostly by Johann, who he desperately wished he had held on to for longer before they were put away.

The wizard realised he’d not said anything for a while, and licked his dry lips anxiously.

“Could you please, ah, talk. Anything. I can’t.” Balfour lowered himself on to his side with eyes still closed, hoping desperately that the muggle officers would not tell them to shut up. He felt for his shirt buttons and undid the two closest to his throat, mistaking the sweat against his chest for a symptom of stifling warmth.

"Still love you," Johann called against the metal door, his voice echoing on all the hard surfaces in the cell. He lay his hands flat on the door, stretching the backs of his legs which felt tense from being ordered around. They could have tried to disapparate on the spot of course, but they'd have got into additional trouble for using magic while observed by Muggles. That meant explaining what they were up to, why they had done it, and serving the consequence in their own world. Of the two, they had gambled on this consequence.

For a moment silence fell between the lovers, but there were other voices, the Londoner in M2 yelling again about how long he was going to be in there for. Johann realised that not all of the voices he could hear were unfamiliar, and took a slow deep breath. Sleeping potions were back at Atreus. He was doing very well not to touch them so often, and they were far away from here and now. He glanced back over his shoulder to the temporary bed and the rule book, his only physical distractions from what could be an increasing cacophony both outside and inside his head.

Balfour's voice came through from across the corridor, and there was a heightened pitch in his tenor that Johann picked out. Stress, an edge of anxiety. He paid close attention to how Balfour's voice sounded at different times, and there was a tightness in his throat behind this tone that called out to him now. It was not down to just the fact he'd had to call Johann by the name of his ex-boyfriend.

"You alright?" He called looking up, seeing but not focusing on the metal door before him, doing his best to focus on Balfour's response and not the clatter of a cell door. Had they been together he wouldn't hesitate to sweep his arms around Balfour, but there were two locked doors between them. Balfour being anxious was a rarer instance - he was the decidedly cocky one of the pair. Nothing seemed to ever shake him, and Johann admired and attempted to emulate the confidence. Bigger balls. Mentally and physically.

"… I can't."

Johann licked his lips, expression worried as he pressed against the cell door.
"You got a sea view in there?" He asked, mind quickly continuing the earlier joke. "Hey, we should go for a walk down the coast somewhere, get fish and chips, fight seagulls for them!"

He shuffled his feet, socks not keeping his feet entirely warm on the scuffed floor. Shivering, he shot across the cell, seized the blanket and threw it round his shoulders over his shirt. Just talk. Speak. They'll snap your wands. Shut up.

"You ever been to those black sand beaches? Volcanic ash?" He asked Balfour, not pausing for long to hear a response. He had to also drown out the familiar voice in his head suggesting they'd never be able to return to being wizards. The Custody Sergeant had waited out Johann's hesitation over the questions about mental health before his nod of confirmation. It had been a long while since he'd wanted to do anything that might startle the Muggles in that sense, and it appeared their wands had actually been the most startling to their non-magical cousins. Well, it wasn't completely a lie, just not in the rather mechanical method the Muggles had been imagining by the way they'd dropped Johann's wand like it was dirty.

"There's lots in Hawaii. You ever get over there? I've never been but I've read about them in Wiz--ahem - that geographic magazine my cousin gifted me a subscription to. I've seen one in Iceland though - but it's at a place called Vik, which is also the wettest place in Iceland. Not somewhere you go sunbathing." He laughed, and coughed, pulling the blanket tighter, leaning his left shoulder against the door.

"We'll have to go to America - I want to see it. I like hearing you tell me about it." Johann's voice trailed off, knocking his right fist gently against the metal without any purpose. "I love you. I do, I would do this all again for you. We'll be alright. Don't worry, I can sort this." His own tone also could not hide the edge of anxiety. "We'll laugh about this tomorrow, I promise."

”You alright?”

Balfour nodded and then, remembering where he was, made a sound to indicate that even if he wasn’t alright, he was at least getting there. His ears picked up on little noises from all around the station and the other cells but he strained to hear what he could in Johann’s direction.

The other wizard’s voice was calming, took control of that agitated and sharp edge inside of him. His lips twitched into a smile at the words, at mention of beaches and Hawaii and beautiful, wide vistas that made this space all the more wretched.

He had never been this alone, he thought, not without free recourse to fellowship or the odd creature for company. How did people stand this? How did they not go mad right away? Nothing, nobody at all but nervous thoughts and four miserable walls and something black, something insidious growing inside, telling him that this is how it’s all going to end.

In a box, suffocating, the world oblivious.

All but Johann. Balfour sat up on the mattress, hunched over as he faced their prison with legs and arms crossed. He could hear a familiar inflection in his lover’s words. Some nights it governed Johann’s tone, woken up from moonless nightmares while the two of them clasped one another, hushed and naked in the dark.

“We will,” he broke his silence and slipped off the bed to sit on the floor directly before the metal door. It was cold but he didn’t care, the shivers kept him awake and aware. The last thing he wanted was to fall sleep and leave Johann by his lonesome. “Go to America, I mean. I’ll show you the desert. The night sky, the multitude of stars and silences, you’re going to adore it...” his eyes stung with tears and Balfour hastily wiped them away. “I know. I know you love me, I love you."

So much. He touched the door with just his fingertips and swallowed, brow wrinkled with concern. They would laugh later, yes, even if it felt like the worst possible version of Hell right now. "Nothing I wouldn’t go through if it meant you were with me.”

Balfour paused to run a hand through his damp curls, shaking his shoulders to ease the tension in them, reaching into himself to find something lighthearted, not wanting to add to Johann’s worries.

“What do you get if you cross a wizard and an iceberg?”
               An inmate from another cell yelled back, “What?” and he smiled weakly.
“A cold spell. What do you call a wizard who only casts good spells?”

Someone down the corridor groaned.

“A charming fellow. How do you keep a wizard in suspense?” Balfour didn’t wait for a response, stifled the inane laughter in his voice as he continued. “I’ll tell you tomorrow—!”


A couple of hours later, long after his terrible jokes had been exhausted, they heard a set of assured footsteps echoing outside the cells. “Donovan! Hollingbury!” the voice belonged to one of the officers who had questioned them earlier, and Balfour was on his feet in an eager instant. “Your solicitor is here!”

Their solicitor?! he blinked in bewilderment as the metal doors were unlocked and pulled open. Who in Merlin's name had Mrs Lanningham sent as their solicitor?

"Just two locked doors." Johann replied, "but same for me, as you know." He held his ear nearer to the hatch to hear the jokes, mouthing some of the answers with Balfour, not wanting to speak over him if the answers were different to those he guessed or recalled.
"How do you keep a wizard in suspense?"
"Hooowww!"
"I'll tell you tomorrow--!" Johann groaned loudly on purpose and thumped the cell door in approval. They were going to be ok. If Balfour was breaking out Christmas cracker jokes he was alright.




Lying on his back on the less than comfy plastic mattress beneath the blanket, Johann wriggled his toes, about to pose a follow up question to Tony, the muggle in M5 who had most appreciated Balfour's jokes. "Do you think-" He began when there was the clang of metal with the gate at the end of the corridor opening and the rattle of a big set of keys which jangled in time to the approaching footsteps.

"Solicitor?" Johann uttered quietly in response to the news. He propped himself up on his elbows as the hatch came down with a snap and two eyes peered in and then unlocked the door with a clunk. He abandoned the Codes of Practice and the blanket in his hurry to get to the door.

The corridor outside seemed like the great expanse of the Spectre Estate at that moment. Balfour's cell door came open to reveal him and the pair made no delay in scooting out into the same space. Shoes were a complete afterthought to touching in relief. Upon reflecting later, Johann realised that being reunited was one of the greatest blessings there was.
"Good old Mrs L." Johann beamed, seeming extraordinarily happy at the police constable staring at the two of them with mild disdain. He hastily stopped manhandling Balfour to put his shoes back on. Ushered ahead by their jailor, Johann made an effort to tuck in his shirt and look presentable.

They emerged into the brightly lit custody suite once more, where there was a familiar but slightly unexpected face staring levelly at them in a suit that looked slightly too big.

Nobody disobeyed Mrs L.

That, and Cepheus wished he had a camera right at that moment to capture this glorious moment. Division Big Brother Spectre and his lover being marched out of a Muggle police station cell. They looked disheveled, and was it his imagination or were they a little… muddy?

He tried to keep a very straight face, arms folded, chin lowered.
"Mr Donovan, Mr Hollingbury." Ceph greeted them both very formally, extending his hand to shake to Balfour and then to Johann.

Mrs Lanningham had provided particular instructions in her letter by owl to explain who they were posing as. It did not surprise Cepheus that neither was using their real identity. It was possible that neither of them would appear on the computers Muggles used. Thankfully a Hogwarts education in Muggle Studies and a few romantic relations with Muggles during his twenties had helped him keep up enough to appear as if he knew what he was doing.

That and a well-placed confundus charm. Hollow would cover him later, he was too fond of Spectre to leave him in a Muggle police station, and of Gamp to let anyone pursue a tiny statute breach. Nobody would get the Department Head out for this, especially not on Valentine's Day. No, just Balfour's lonely, single colleague who had nothing better to do on this night than fetch Spectre and his randy boyfriend from custody. About bloody time someone caught them at it. Rabbits. Not that he wouldn't either of them. Cepheus flip-flopped from jealous to despairing of their lack of discretion.

"Your belongings." Cepheus gestured to the desk, appearing entirely patient and well-mannered as he ever was on the outside. "Lanningham reached me and I came at once." Well, almost at once, after he'd stopped laughing, finished the washing up, chosen his most Muggle suit, and found a map to see where was safest to apparate to. That had taken a bit of time. Couldn't hurry these things.

"No grounds to prosecute you," he glanced to the Custody Sergeant who was rubbing his forehead with the tell-tale signs of confusion, "or caution you." He nodded backwards with his head twice to indicate them to grab the bags and hurry after him before the charm wore off.

It took great restraint not to directly swoop his lover into his arms and dash out of the godsforsaken prison. Balfour’s entire being tingled with happiness upon their release, heated yearning in his chest dissipating with every second that passed in Johann’s direct presence. It was so good to touch again.

He buttoned up his shirt properly and tried to fix his hair as they left the holding area. A few voices from the other cells bid them goodbye in cavalier fashion, giving him a newfound appreciation for all sorts of human company.

To lay one’s eyes on that of another living person was a blessing - but never had Balfour been so glad to see Cepheus Gamp than at this instant. If he weren’t so preoccupied with trying to get out, he would have hugged their ‘solicitor’..

“You beautiful man you!” he exclaimed happily while he tugged on his peacoat with more flourish than was necessary, and retrieved the confiscated wand. “Rather handy with his antique sex toy, isn’t he my love?” A smug, cheerful smirk and a glance at Johann to acknowledge Gamp’s use of the Confundus charm.

The Sergeant, still nursing his head in bewilderment, gave them a dazed look.

Balfour smiled back politely, slipped his hand into Johann’s, and made to leave with the two wizards. They had only to negotiate the dismal reception area before they were finally out in the night air. Sweet, fresh air. Fresh by city standards anyway.

Wet dog and piss.

Nonetheless a return to the real world, a world where one didn’t have to lie about being a Donovan (or a Hollingbury) and where Balfour could finally think of the dreaded cell as nothing more than an unpleasant memory.

“Oh thank the gods!” he sighed while they descended the steps on to street level, shaking his hair out with a shrug.  “I was bound to go crazy in there."

Spectre and Storm pulled on their coats and grasped the plastic bags of their belongings, heeding Ceph's inference that they should hurry up. The confudus charm wouldn't last forever and someone would undoubtedly walk in and query if they lingered too long.

"Steady," He cautioned Balfour's enthusiastic greeting, though his cheeks betrayed a gentle blush at the compliment. "Don't say something you'll - my what?"

Ugh, the pair of them could be intolerable at times, albeit rather good looking. Between memos and comments in the office, they successfully drove him quietly mad. Ceph wasn't sure he wanted to know why their wands were described as such.

"That's an original chat-up line if ever I heard one.” The Division Head shrugged it off, shaking his head. Hurriedly, Ceph led them back the way he had arrived, through a busy and rather grey reception. They passed Muggles in various states of despair before pushing open the glass doors to the outside world. Out of that suffocating, artificial, alien environment.

It was a milder February night and the ground was drying out from several days of rain. As soon as they were clear of the door, descending to the pavement, Ceph reached into his jacket pocket for a packet of cigarettes with a muggle lighter. He charitably extended them to Balfour and then Johann, aware at least Spectre had a habit and he'd have been deprived.

"From what I heard of the reasons for your arrests," he replied to Balfour's suggestions of insanity, leading them down the road at a steadier pace, "you were already going crazy which is how you ended up in there." The Head of Being Division pulled out a cigarette for himself, dropped it between his lips and caught the lighter back with juggler's precision.

"Do the two of you not have a home to enjoy yourselves in or something?"

Mrs L had sent Cepheus Gamp to their rescue? Johann wouldn't ordinarily question her decisions, and certainly they were being released, but Cepheus Gamp? He looked like he was barely out of school some days, however he caught the eye. In Johann's opinion, he was an entirely unconvincing brief. Little wonder he'd had to confund the Custody Sergeant.

"Isn't he." Johann replied to Balfour's question with a mirrored smirk, rather glad to have his own 'toy' back in his hand. His fingers ran over the ebony to check for new damage to the wand he'd had all his life, coat already slung on. He continued to dip his hand into the plastic bag as they moved to retrieve the detritus previously in his coat pockets. Sherbet lemons and pocket watch returned to the correct places in his coat as he followed Balfour and Ceph.

Just as Balfour exclaimed relief in being outside, Johann stretched out his arms to either side and exhaled noisily, enjoying a lungful of air. Fresh enough for London after being in the bleached environment of the police station. He fished a cigarette from Ceph's packet out of curiosity more than hankering. Johann brushed fingers with Balfour as the lighter was passed between them, enjoying the fact he could before tossing it back to Ceph.

As they made their way down the pavement, he shoved the plastic bag and a few remaining pieces of pocket rubbish into a nearby bin, jogging a couple of steps to catch up. Johann linked his left arm with Balfour's right, on the opposite side of the pavement to Ceph, catching the end of the question.

"We do, and we will." Johann chuckled, giving Balfour’s arm a squeeze. "Thanks for coming, Gamp. I would ask if you're grumpy because Mrs L interrupted your evening’s enjoyment, but I'm pretty sure it was just you and the cat tonight. Because you wouldn't have been my first choice for a jailbreak. No offence." He gestured to Cepheus with his right hand, cigarette caught between his long pale fingers. "Unless…" he added swiftly, glancing to Balfour, inclining towards him a little, "she thought we might improve his evening. Tsk. Mrs L." The linguist shook his head of messy black curls and left a kiss on his lover's cheek.

Balfour took long, calming draws of his cigarette as they began to put some distance between themselves and the muggle police station. He had not realised how much he needed one in the cell - deprivation of Johann had overridden the lesser addiction - though it helped punctuate a sense of normalcy.

The feeling of his wand safely in his pocket and the knowledge that everyone he loved was within reach once more.

He looped an arm through his lover’s as the other wizard caught up again, Balfour sandwiched between Johann and their rescuer. The streets were quiet but the odd couple of late night stragglers might be heard laughing tipsily into the cold. If not drunk on wine, then at least on London itself.

 "Unless…she thought we might improve his evening. Tsk. Mrs L.”

Gamp’s light reproach was cause to smile, and Joh’s response only made him grin wider - a rueful flash of teeth, a blush on cheeks already reddened by the cold.

Oh, he loved his wizard very much. He returned the kiss, gently pressing against his partner’s lips before glancing at Cepheus.

Balfour’s eyes glimmered with their usual mischief. “I think Gamp was an excellent choice,” he defended Mrs Lanningham’s decision evenly without looking away from the smaller man. “Why, who would suspect darling Cepheus of anything disreputable?” His tone dared the Division Head to contradict its implication, and he stuck the fag between his lips contentedly.

Its tobacco tasted sweeter with every breath. Even sweeter when he and Johann had someone susceptible to a good teasing. “But we do owe you a drink at the least, don't we my love?"

The other two fell into stride together arm in arm. Their natural rapport allowed them to walk comfortably in time whereas Ceph, a few inches shorter found himself taking just over a pace for each of theirs to keep up at first. Damn tall wizards. He pocketed his lighter again, turning to look up at the pair of them as they spoke.

“None taken.” Ceph agreed with Johann, he hadn’t anticipated being first choice either. Perhaps he hadn’t been, or perhaps Mrs L just knew he was too polite to say no to her. Or maybe she trusted him to keep his mouth shut about it. Damn, it would make for a good story. Then again, the pair striding along to his right couldn’t keep quiet at the best of times.

At the suggestion his evening might be improved he gave the German a bemused frown. He didn’t look away as the other two briefly kissed, sighing gently to himself before pulling on his cigarette. Balfour’s comment on reputation made him laugh and almost choke on it.
“That’s the plan.” He agreed, though it really wasn’t.

”But we do owe you a drink at the least, don’t we my love?”
”At the very least.” Johann echoed without hesitation, the pair of them keenly watching Gamp. He took another stride, considering them both. Weren’t they just suggesting they were hurrying home to celebrate what remained of valentine’s day - which by his estimate, was almost done by the hour? Genuine thanks or not…

“Well, it’s not as if I’ll get a better offer than two cocky wizards, is it?” Ceph shrugged, corner of his mouth curling up however much he tried to keep it straight. He’d been doing his best to school is expression and not laugh throughout the time he’d been in the police station. “There’s a place to apparate just down here. Too many Muggle cameras. Don’t want to invoke Three…” He gestured with his hand to around and above them.