“Soooo….” Ariadne asked, slipping backwards onto the bench beside Virgil at the Slytherin table. Dinner was finishing, and the benches were no longer rammed full of burly Slytherins, just crumbs. “Find anything interesting at the career fair?” She propped her elbows on the table behind her, ignoring the distrustful looks from some of the younger Slytherins. When you were that young, you thought Gryffindors were the sworn enemy rather than conspirators and classmates. They’d get there eventually.

Gamp smiled at Carstairs, showing no teeth, but broad and bright enough to be suggestive. It was a distinctly platonic suggestive, careful, since the seventh years were pretty bad at keeping things platonic through a haze of gillyweed. (Virgil had enough suitors, what with riding Ari’s dorm fellow, Sophie Flickwick not so long ago out of the blue, if not Indi too… and then Gracie Slant was more than a little protective, not that Ariadne ever observed or supposed, just listened to what the others talked about.) It had been no great surprise that the panel had happened.

“… or anybody?” Ariadne rephrased, lowering her voice.

He was all at once inconsolable and irrepressible.

Virgil had learned a great deal of things at today's career fair - his interest in the various Ministry departments especially - but he had swept it all into a corner of his mind to contemplate later. Tonight he only wanted to think about Cepheus Gamp. The Slytherin was looking a bit crumpled from the day's events as he finished up at the dining table. It was down to a bowl of mash, which he picked at. Conversation had been scarce.

It had actually been a little eerie, as he'd gone the entire meal without making a single disparaging remark about anybody else.

           "Soooo….Find anything interesting at the career fair?"

And just like that, Ariadne Gamp performed a reprisal of his own surprising approach in April. Virgil slid his bowl away as he turned slightly, fixing her with a quizzical look. "… or anybody?" she finished.

Something in his chest stammered out a happy rhythm and he realised he was smiling. Grinning! It had to be a grin because, God, he suddenly wanted to laugh for no visible reason whatsoever. It was the best and worst feeling in the world.

"You!" Virgil exclaimed (and then he did laugh). "Did you send him?" he licked his lips, pleased to be able to talk about this now. "Ariadne, he called me dashing. I mean, in a platonic and polite way, but he called me dashing. And he took my photo! Did you really send him?"

The prefect was rambling now, a word a second, impatient to get it all out. "You're glorious. Nearly as glorious as he is but not quite. I think I can die happy now."

Aww, look at that. Virgil Carstairs, with all his strange sleepy eyes, pale face and dark shadows, was smiling at her. He changed completely when he did, his eyes creased up, his cheeks were like pink apples.
“You!”
“Me?”
“Did you send him?” The Gryffindor merely giggled at his reaction, his smile becoming infectious, tugging at the corners of her own mouth.

“Did you really send him?” His classmate nodded once, a little bashful considering the reaction from Virgil now. At his outpouring of words she laughed openly.
“Virgil, gosh, he only asked where he could have a smoke, and well… you’d just said you were off for one… what would you say, fate is rarely so lazy?” She giggled, reaching out a hand to briefly stroke his shoulder, “I couldn’t help myself. Forgive me Virgil, I don’t mean to torture you… well… maybe just a little. So damned cute…!”

Ariadne swung her legs over so she was sat side by side to Virgil, and propped her chin on her upturned palm.
“Was it a good photo? What did you talk about?”

She was laughing at him!

Virgil quelled his own burst of affection, though he could not keep from smiling, and he let his gaze fix itself on Ariadne for a moment - she wasn't laughing in a mean way. There was nothing condescending or sharp about it; she was laughing because he was excited and because she thought it was so 'damned cute'. Was it, though? His cheeks warmed. He wondered how he looked like right now and if he was this effusive around Cepheus.

              “Was it a good photo? What did you talk about?”

The photo. Fuck. Virgil instinctively reached for the camera on the other side of the bench, long fingers closing down against its leather case as he brought it on to his lap. His smile was nervous now.

"I haven't developed the film yet," he swallowed and looked at the camera as if though it might sprout teeth and bite him. "I took a photo of him, too. That probably turned out well." The prefect sighed, hopeless, before he turned his attention back to their conversation.

Ari wanted to know what they had talked about and he owed her that much at least, for she'd sent the Indescribable Cepheus in his direction after all. "We talked about theatre. Stardust, that is. He liked Rapunzel. I told him that was me, playing her." Virgil bit his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know exactly what he thought about that. And I've asked him to come see Peter Pan in the summer."

It was enough to make him want to jump to his feet and write Edgar about that script. Virgil was going to rehearse and rehearse and rehearse and everything was going to be perfect for that play.

"I also offered to take him backstage," his voice was a bit higher than usual and he quickly looked at Ariadne, mortified. "I'm truly fucked, aren't I?"

“Of course it turned out well,” Ariadne uttered back, “you took it.” Anyone who could take a photo of their professors and make them look human was a good photographer, and Virgil did exactly that.

“… I told him that was me, playing her…” Ariadne drew her lips into an ‘ooh’ of tentative doubt. “… I’ve asked him to come see Peter Pan in the summer.”
“That’s cool,” Ariadne smiled, encouraging.

“I also offered to take him backstage. I’m truly fucked, aren’t I?”

“Uhm,” Ariadne paused, chin still pressing into the palm of her hand, “if you’re taking him back stage then I’d say the likelihood is fairly high.” She shrugged and chuckled at her own little joke. “I take it you want - no, hang on, don’t go there, I don’t want to know, I can guess. Oh my gods Virgil.” Ari lifted her hands to wave them at her classmate in alarm at this passing thought. Her uncle and Virgil sharing a very intense stare, framed in the doorway of a dressing room her mind was inventing before she slammed the door shut.

“It’s truly sweet. Really. I’m going to keep telling myself that regardless. So, uhm, when are you going to develop the photos?” She pointed down at the camera in its case on Virgil’s lap. “In the dead of night where nobody can see?”

As far as he could tell - which, from tuning in to the odd thought, was quite far - it seemed that Ariadne was putting up magnificently with his awful pining. She was more patient than Virgil anticipated and he regretted not getting to know her better in earlier years at school, ensconced as he was by the usual social circles of Slytherin.

The young wizard laughed as she batted her hands at him, clearly trying to stave off some odd thought.

"I didn't mean backstage like that!" Virgil ducked his head and scooted back slightly; he was on the verge of making a catty comment when his mind caught a scintillating glimpse of the image that flickered past Ari's consciousness.

His smile froze and he felt his stomach drop like he'd gone into a terrifying free fall. Virgil's cheeks were splotchy with a blush so evident that he had to stop himself from covering his face. Regardless of how Cepheus' visit to Stardust would go, there would be no getting rid of that image.

It made him nervous to entertain it as a possibility. Virgil cleared his throat, attention drawn back to his camera. He stuck his lip out a little at being called sweet but it was useless to protest.

"Oh. Right. I should develop them soon, some of the photos are for the yearbook," he swallowed and looked between Ari and the lens. "I was going to wait until..." - until he felt ready to face the embarrassment of his photograph - "Ah, until after dinner. Do you want to come help?"

Virgil wasn't sure why he asked, except that he didn't really trust anyone else to be in the room while he developed them. Perhaps it would be less mortifying if he could poke fun at himself about the whole thing while she was around.

“Can I?” Ari asked, perking up. “I’ve never seen how you develop photos. It’s with potions or something innit?” She asked informally. “I promise not to laugh, well, I promise to try and stop myself if I feel the need.” She grinned, and glanced away, her eye drawn from Virgil to a scuffle across the room where some first year Gryffindors were play-fighting.

“Oi, not in here, you idiots!” Ari called to them, her manner becoming serious all of a sudden, “Don’t want to lose points if Donovan or Storm catch you. Professor Singh wouldn’t be happy, like.” She raised both her eyebrows at them as they let go of each other and shrugged at their twisted robes before dashing away. “Ugh, they’re just going to carry on outside. I’m glad I’m just a prefect not a teacher.” Ari moaned, “I mean, who’d have kids, actual kids of their own. That’d just be hell.” She grinned and pressed a hand to Virgil’s shoulder again, “stick with being gay, I mean, you’d never live it down if Sophie was pregnant would you, hah!”

He didn't like it when people promised to be nice - but when they promised to try, it was much better and in fact quite preferable. Ari was going to try not to laugh. She possessed the disposition of someone who liked to laugh, however, so Virgil didn't mind if she did now that he knew she didn't mean it in a bad way.

"Developing potions and a special lighting charm," he explained by way of agreeing for her to accompany him. The distraction across the hall gave the Slytherin a moment to sling his camera case over his shoulder and take a last drink of pumpkin juice.

Thinking about Cepheus made his throat dry in the same way one would feel before making a big speech.

Ari's hand on his shoulder caused Virgil to put down the goblet, mouth still full of liquid.

          “...stick with being gay, I mean, you’d never live it down if Sophie was pregnant would you, hah!"

He tried not to choke when he swallowed down the rest. Sophie! Pregnant! The thought made his stomach turn a little, and his eyebrows climbed towards his hairline in a manner both worried and incredulous. It was picturing Ari's housemate as a mother that perturbed him most.

"I really wouldn't," he agreed before rubbing his face with a bitter laugh. "Merlin, can you imagine? I'd never be rid of her." Virgil made to swing his legs over the bench so that they could finally make a move, the feeling of his camera against his hip burning like a coal.

"You don't want children?" he got to his feet and stretched his arms out behind him, catlike. "No little Ariadnes? Little Gamps?" Virgil slipped his hands into his pockets, eyeing her amusedly as he tried to imagine much smaller versions of his classmate. "Or is it up to your Auror aunt to continue the family name?"

“I’d never be rid of her.”
“No!” Ariadne agreed, laughing as they moved to leave.

“No, of course I don’t, I’m 17!” She retorted to Virgil, “She won’t continue it, if she gets married, and hey, who’s to say uncle Ceph won’t, or well, my dad might have more children… it’s not exactly unlikely given what… ugh… yeah… no I don’t want kids. I don’t think so. Like, my mum was my age when she had me, so she’s always banging on at me about keeping my legs shut.”

Ariadne huffed as they walked towards the Great Hall doors and meandered through them amidst a stream of first and second years who giggled at the conversation topic when they caught wind. Ariadne rolled her eyes and waited until they were clear before she continued, “I dunno Virgil, it kind of doesn’t interest me.” Her mind was picturing the Gryffindor dormitory she shared with Sophie, Gabby, Raine and Indi. Sophie had dated Fig, shagged Virgil, Raine was all sweet with Zel and had been snogging Theo before that, Indi was so sexually unrepressed they nearly had to yell at her for being too frank about her knowledge. Ari only felt some kinship with Gabby in that neither of them had ever had a boyfriend, so couldn’t contribute to the discussions after curfew in their pyjamas. They could only crack jokes about Nick Bevans wanting to shag anything that had a hole big enough.

“Everyone bangs on - literally - about getting off with each other.” Ariadne moaned, “I just… why am I telling you this?”

She paused, turning on the spot to regard Virgil, “oh right, because I feel some debt in secrecy to you for gushing about Ceph.” She turned away to walk beside him again, "You got any good looking uncles, aunts? Maybe see if it does the trick?”

He smirked, petulantly sticking his tongue out at a group of second years who had tittered about Ariadne keeping her legs shut. They retorted with their own ugly looks and Virgil only smiled to himself when he looked back to his classmate, raising an eyebrow. He hadn't meant children at seventeen! But then again how could anyone know for certain if they wanted that in the future?

Virgil didn't. The idea of tiny Virgils running around made him think of his brother, who was a true smart arse.

           "Everyone bangs on - literally - about getting off with each other. I just… why am I telling you this?"

Good question. He opened his mouth to reply but Ari beat him to it, and with a more appropriate response than he'd have managed. His face flushed and he ducked his head as he lead them towards the dungeon stairwell.

"It's not like there's a deadline for banging, as you put it..." they descended in a single file, a group of fourth year housemates scampering up the other side of the steps. "Sophie thought there was, I guess. She just wanted to get it out of the way because everyone else had done it. There's no reason to if you're not interested," he shrugged.[1]

The Slytherin only knew this from gleaning Flickwick's thoughts during the deed  - but Ari didn't have to know that.

He was leading them down one of the lesser used corridors, passing by the closed doors of old potion rooms gone into disuse. The air here was thick with the fragrance of herbal ointments and less natural, processed embrocations.

"I don't have any attractive uncles or aunts. Cousins maybe, if you think Landis looks good." Virgil stopped in front of an empty classroom and let Ari in before he followed. "But I know actors." as soon as the door shut, they were left in darkness.

His voice had a presence in the cool dark. "And actors are famously promiscuous, if you want your pick!" he laughed lightly before a low, red light suddenly sprang to life.

Virgil held up his wand, casting ominous crimson and shifting shadows throughout the long room - barely visible, its hanging lines and high desks pushed against the walls. His teeth were pink, when he grinned at Ariadne.  "My invitation to visit Stardust is extended to you as well. But you'll need somebody else to take you backstage."

1.	Not as Hard, Hard, Hard as it Seems - 21st March

“… if you think Landis looks good.” Ariadne gave Virgil a mildly distressed look before they stepped inside.

Inside it was very dark indeed, and had Ariadne not the prior knowledge that photography required a darkroom, she’d have wondered what the heck was going on. Darkness was oddly suffocating. Even far from land on her father’s little boat it wasn’t ever truly dark. Near enough though.

The low red light from Virgil’s wand picked out the most prominent parts of Ariadne’s expression.
“I’ll bear that in mind should I want to have my bits poked by someone who makes a habit of it,” she replied, hands on hips, “no offence.”
“… you’ll need somebody else to take you backstage.”
“Mhm, you’ll be rather ‘busy’ I’m sure.” She mocked Virgil with a provocative swerve of her hips and a pat of her cheeks as if she were hiding a blush. “I don’t want to see any photos from that - oh gods do you keep mind bleach in here?”

Ariadne finally moved from just inside the door, feeling her way forward instead of lighting her wand.
“So how many photos have you got to develop then?” She asked, smacking her knee into something and stooping to rub it with a cringe, not visible in the low light, “surely you’ve taken enough to fill the yearbook thrice over already, and it’s only April.”

He smiled to himself at his schoolmate's pointed rejoinders, as sharp as any of his other friends and yet not as determinedly aggressive. It took the pressure off of him to provide a suitable retort. Not a bitter game of tennis but a friendly one.

Virgil began to busy himself as soon as he had a moment to regain his bearings in the dark room, and quickly made his way towards a very tall cupboard at the far end. In the red light his cheeks only looked darker when they blushed. "Merlin, Ariadne, you need to stop imagining those things..." he muttered in a faint voice and opened the cupboard to search its shelves.

It was going to be impossible not to think of her imaginings the next time he saw Cepheus.

"Mind the--" Virgil started to say while he took down various bottles of potions. A soft thud told him that the witch had knocked against one of their storage trunks, regardless. "Never mind."

Basic hazard. He turned around, wand precariously held in the same hand that strangled the necks of several brews they would require to develop the photos. "I finished this roll today, so it's twenty-four photos. Not all for the yearbook. Some of it is... just for me."

One of the long tables was cleared - shallow trays organised to the side, where he deposited the bottles, to be used later. Virgil glanced at Ariadne and gestured for her to join him. "Hold my wand to keep the light?" he handed it to her, gentle. "Sometimes there's a crystal orb we use but we lost it last week."

Things had a habit of disappearing at school. Expertly, he laid his camera on the surface and pried open the back to extract the roll of film.

"Do you think your uncle would find it strange if I sent him his picture?" Virgil tried not to look at Ari, concentrating instead on unfurling the negative so that he could hold it up against the light. "Not the one he took of me, I mean."

“… Some of it is… just for me.”
“For your eyes only or..?” Ariadne chuckled, doubting Virgil would have invited her had there been any risqué shots amongst the twenty-four. Her tone suggested she was only being cheeky. She obliged him by taking his wand, and found a place to lean without smacking her knees on any other unlit furniture. She watched Virgil prise open the camera, both their faces dimly lit in the ruddy glow.
“Hrm, things in the castle grow literal legs,” she agreed.

“Do you think your uncle would find it strange if I sent him his picture? Not the one he took of me, I mean.”
“Uhm,” Ariadne considered his question seriously, her hand dipping in altitude for a brief second as she thought of other things. “No, I don’t think he’d find it strange. He keeps clippings from the Prophet that he’s cited in, well apart from the bad ones. I think he’d be flattered, you don’t often keep or take photos of yourself, do you, like?” Ariadne reasoned, her magical upbringing not exposing her to the concept of ‘selfies’ in the Muggle world. “Depends if it comes out nice, though.” She shrugged, Virgil’s wand tip bobbing in the air between them. “Not suggesting you’d take a bad one, just if it blurred or whatever. I dunno, gra…”

Ariadne’s mind’s eye had transported her back in a flash to the sun-drenched garden at Gamp House in Godric’s Hollow, demanding her grandfather let her have a go. Clad in a bright red dress, her mother’s choice for the six-year-old Ariadne, she had defiantly planted her hands on her hips as he cradled the much older-looking camera on his lap. She could picture him now, perched on a garden chair, his sallow skin pink under the summer heat, yet still dressed formally. Her memories of Mortimer were always that he was dressed smartly, as if he might go to work at any point. A t-shirt was outside of his wardrobe, along with shorts and god forbid some form of swimming costume. Her father, conversely, they sometimes had to beg to put clothes on to be decent in company. He’d gained enough tattoos on his travels he considered them clothing.

Back in the room with Virgil, the Gryffindor pouted a little, not that she held grudges at all, "I always got told to hold the camera incredibly still when I tried taking photos when I was little, I’d fidget and it would waste a shot. Did you buy your own or was it a present?” She squinted at the negatives in the light. “So how do you make them bigger, with potions, right?”

Lips pressed into a tight line, he squinted as he held up the unfurled film roll against the source of the red light. A tempestuous sensation in the pit of his stomach relaxed somewhat - mostly in anticipation of being able to send Cepheus a photograph without coming across as a touch too keen. That was good. Progress! Virgil was not certain to what end but that didn't seem to matter. Any form of interaction with the older wizard would soothe this... this ridiculous infatuation.

He was rolling the film back up when the image in Ari's mind flooded his.

It was as if though his right eye was squinting through the crimson light of the dungeon room, while his left found itself in a very different place. And faced by a very different person. Virgil froze. A younger - but still quite old - looking face, pale in spite of white hair that should have lent colour. Incongruously innocuous. He had never met Mortimer Gamp in his life (at least not conscious).

Somehow it kept escaping him that the man's presence was a regular one for Ariadne. She was speaking again.

            "...waste a shot. Did you buy your own or was it a present?” So how do you make them bigger, with potions, right?"

Virgil felt feeling creep into his hands. Hadn't realised they'd left. He blinked, stiffly glancing back down at the negatives he had been examining. He let them curl up and released a shaky breath.

"A present. It was a present from my sister. Excuse me. Hold on a second." The Slytherin closed his eyes and deliberately pinched the bridge of his nose - he had to make a quick decision, he felt, at least if he wanted to be around Ariadne more often.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to shoot her a brittle look. "Could.... could you please not think too much about him? Your grandfather I mean." Virgil swallowed and then returned his attention to the film; he grabbed an empty copper cylinder and a potions bottle from the neighbouring table.

"I'm a Legilimens," he spoke abruptly. "Sorry. I can't help it sometimes." His hands moved deftly and busily - pouring the potions into the cylinder, slipping the roll of negatives into it to steep. "They tell me I'm sensitive. I don't...I try not to do it, on purpose."

He was quick to mount a defence. Knowing someone can read minds is not an effective formulae for trust. Virgil was sure Ariadne wouldn't think well of it anyway, so he avoided looking at her and kept busy instead: reaching for more potions, and the trays.

“… Excuse me. Hold on a second.” Virgil looked pained and Ariadne was concerned.
“You alright?” She asked, watching him pinch his nose. Had he got a headache?

“Could… could you please not think too much about him?” Ariadne’s face creased in confusion. About Ceph? “Your grandfather I mean.” Ariadne’s eyebrows shot up, more because she thought Virgil meant, talk about him, and she’d been trying not to. But you know how it worked, the more you tried to ignore or not think about something the more it bubbled to the surface.

“I’m a legilimens.” Ariadne’s eyes widened, her lips apart to say sorry when she became mute at the surprise.
“Er, right…” She stumbled, suddenly very conscious about what she was thinking about.
“Sorry. I can’t help it sometimes. They tell me I’m sensitive. I don’t … I try not to do it, on purpose.”

Ariadne swallowed loudly.
“He - he was too.” She blurted out and winced, unaware of using past tense. As far as Ariadne was concerned, the grandfather she had grown up to have an odd but familiar relationship had vanished and there was just a husk. Her mother had suggested he was gone, and that was for the best. That and she should stay away from the Gamps in general because it could be one of them next, which had made Ariadne angry as she was a Gamp too.

“Sorry, creeps me out a bit. Stuff if your head’s private, it’s like, you don’t have full control on what your subconscious wants to think about, and that’s why it’s …” Her hand dropped his wand down a few inches, struggling with the thought. “So you’re like, unable to not listen?” She asked, lifting the wand again, brow furrowed, clearly imagining the phrase you eavesdropping knob in her head voice. The surprised anger didn’t linger, Virgil could have kept it to himself after all.

“Bet you wouldn’t complain if I tried to recall my uncle in his swimming trunks… Oh Virgil ewwwwww."