“I think my socks are still damp,” Cepheus remarked to Ariadne, in the packed bar of the Stardust Theatre. He peered down and pulled a little at a trouser leg as if it somehow might reveal more readily.
“Pfft, that amount of water’s not going to hurt you.” His niece teased, stirring a sparkling drink with her finger above the rim of the glass. It changed from purple to pink as she did before she sipped happily.
“Don’t be critiquing their naval authenticity,” Cepheus retorted, with a mock wag of a finger. “You’ll be an unpopular flatmate.” Ariadne laughed, all bright white teeth and flicked her dark curls over her shoulders.

In the first half, the stage had been transformed into the Mermaid’s Lagoon, complete with water that had dribbled down to their toes in the front row. Peter and the Lost Boys, or rather Virgil and a troupe of other actors posing as youngsters, had saved a pretty girl playing Tiger Lily, in a battle with pirates.[1]

Virgil had played a most convincing Peter, and the audience were reaching for their hankies as he faced almost certain death, stranded on a rock as the tide rose, with a wound from Hook. Death was just an 'awfully big adventure’, and Ariadne had elbowed Cepheus when she’d noticed him covertly wiping his eyes as Virgil sailed off stage to safety in a birds nest.

“The flying’s awfully good, isn’t it?”
“I’m waiting for someone to get kicked in the head.”
“He’s too graceful for that.”
“Who?”
“The cast. They’re too graceful for that - the flying. Imagine they’ve had a lot of rehearsals.”

Virgil’s tights had left nothing to the imagination as he’d flown overhead, but Cepheus had committed to immersing himself in the performance.

“Knew he was going to pick on us when he was looking for his shadow. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” Ariadne smiled, not needing to specify who she meant. “Thought you were going to be dragged up as his shadow.” She poked her uncle’s arm playfully.
“You’re not the only one,” Cepheus agreed, having felt his interaction with Virgil grasping his hands to inspect his shadow had lasted longer than some of the other people preyed upon in the audience. With knowing them both, he supposed it was only natural. One didn’t like to hold onto the hands and inspect around someone they barely knew, it would get more awkward. It certainly had provoked some laughter.

It was no time before they were ushered back into the intimate little amphitheatre to enjoy the second act, complete with snapping crocodile, and triumphant battle where Peter overcame the evil Hook to the loud cheers of the audience and cast. Chin propped in his palm, Cepheus felt a little sad to recognise the signs that the final scenes approached, as Wendy and the Lost Boys were returned to London. He gave a lopsided smile as Virgil explained how he’d be caught and made a man.

When it came to the curtain, Ariadne leapt to her feet for a standing ovation, and Cepheus found his knees lifting him up beside her as Virgil came to take his bow, rosy cheeked, shimmering with pixie glitter and elated. They clapped, and clapped as the curtain fell and lifted again, and fell for the night.

“Come on,” Ari called as the audience began to file out, and grasped his hand, climbing the rows to the highest at the back. Cepheus nearly tripped over his feet, glancing back at the retreating crows noisily milling to the exits.
“Aren’t we meant to be- oh.” His niece was tapping the wall with her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth.
“After you!” She gestured to the door that wasn’t there a moment before.

1.	Plot from here

Virgil was already out of his tunic by the time he returned to the dressing room, where the cast of the show were still taking off their faces and cheerfully chatting about weekend plans. He had already told them that he was bringing a couple of friends backstage - it was a common enough habit for the actors - and so nobody disturbed his frenetic transformation from Peter Pan to regular wizarding boy. If anything they seemed to find his enthusiasm quite uncharacteristic.

Hurry hurry hurry! He glanced in the mirror and slicked down his hair. There was still quite a bit of stage make-up on but there wasn't time to wipe it off (charms weren't gentle enough on the skin) so he'd have to leave it. The important bit was the clothes.

Naturally, he couldn't possibly be Peter right now! It was time to be Virgil! A grown up person who was very much infatuated with another grown up person!

Barefoot but perfectly happy, Virgil left his compatriots and padded down the backstage passage with a bounce in his step. He was still high on the rush of applause. His cheeks were flushed with colour and his eyes still carried some of Peter's mischief, blue as the glimmering Mermaid Lagoon. But it was his hands that absolutely burned.

Virgil could still feel his touch on Cepheus' hands, wrists. Clasping and searching for a shadow he never wanted to find. All the world watching and none of them wiser to how wildly his heart had raced.

And just like that, as if the thought of the wizard had conjured him, Cepheus Gamp appeared in the corridor just up ahead. The dark-haired wizard was stepping through the doors that let on to the back of amphitheatre seats. He looked as wonderful and as sublime as Virgil supposed him to be; even moreso because he was present! Real!

"Hello!" exclaimed the younger man, spotting Ari as she joined her uncle. "Thanks for coming!" he hugged his flatmate first - still all smiles - and then remembered himself long enough not to do the same with Cepheus. "Welcome to Stardust After Hours!" Virgil announced as he offered a hand to shake.

A kind of shyness threatened to overtake him, so he hastened to keep talking. "And thank you for the flowers. They were awfully nice."

Cepheus stepped through the hidden door at Ariadne’s gesture, and blinked in surprise to find himself in some sort of backstage passage. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that theatres like Stardust had such spaces, but he hadn’t realised Ariadne would know without hesitation. Virgil must have briefed her well.

“Welcome to Stardust After Hours!” Virgil greeted with a flushed complexion, already out of his costume. The phrasing would not sound out of place on the radio as some sort of late night show. He took Virgil’s hand, ceasing his glance around to pay polite attention.

“And thank you for the flowers. They were awfully nice.”
“Not at all, I hope they were the done thing.”

They were still holding hands. This was the shadow bit all over again.

Cepheus gave Virgil a brighter smile, the sort he gave his novice secretary when he didn’t want to be mean to her but she’d not noticed a social cue. He gently patted Virgil’s wrist to trigger an instinctive release of his hand, though thought nothing into it than youthful exuberance. He had in the past been greeted by Ariadne’s friends with a kiss on the cheek, but maybe gillyweed or alcohol had fuelled the cultural familiarity they bestowed.

“Fantastic performance,” Cepheus hurried to assure Virgil, “had us both entranced from start to end, didn’t it, Ariadne?” Cepheus prompted his theatre companion to chip in. Was it his imagination or was she hanging back in the hidden doorway with a bit of a satisfied smile?

“Terrific, Virgil. The best. You had Ceph in tears before the nest-”
“Well, it wasn’t that - it was just … immersive.” Cepheus protested, glancing from Ariadne to Virgil in appeal. “And the water. Should have worn my wellingtons.” He gave an exaggerated shrug, looking down at his shoes which had survived despite the damp. The charms in the brown shoe polish allowed them to keep their deep shine.

“You must be exhausted, all that leaping around and flying. It’s very physical.” Ceph grappled for something observant to say, wishing he’d not gone with his first thought.

The younger wizard was feeling a touch underdressed compared to his visitors, although his face of stage make-up was somewhat at odds with the impression. It didn't matter. They had just spent the last two or so hours watching him dart around in white tights and a green tunic. Actors could get away with wearing just about anything. Virgil usually didn't care if people didn't like his sense of style... unfortunately, being around Cepheus made him care. It was vexing! And the man just stood there bloody oblivious to it all! Completely unfair.

He released Ceph's hand, disappointed but inwardly cursing himself at having let the contact to linger. A blushing glance at Ariadne's expression told him he wasn't fooling anyone else.

           "Fantastic performance.... has both entranced..."
"Thank you!" his smile grew wider and he lifted his chin with a touch of professional pride. "Immersive is good, immersive is brilliant. It's what we aim to do!" Virgil gestured carelessly with one hand, meaning the theatre.

Stardust was obviously special to him, he'd as much grown up here as he had at Hogwarts. If anything it was easier to speak to Cepheus backstage than in the library or by the greenhouses. And he really, really wanted to speak to Ceph. He'd dropped by Penny's party a few nights ago but didn't have a chance to talk.

In fact, he'd left right away after seeing Ari's uncle was busy with the birthday girl.

            "You must be exhausted....It’s very physical."
"Oh no, not even a little bit." Vehemently, Penny Pickler was forced out of mind. "The performance rush is like nothing else. Can't sit still if I wanted to. I can go on for ages and ages if you let me."

Was he babbling? He was definitely babbling. Virgil swallowed and brushed a stray lock of blonde hair behind his ear. "What would you like to see first?" he reminded himself they were here to see the innards of the theatre. "Costumes wardrobe? Effects room?"

As he spoke, other actors and stagehands from the performance came strolling down the passage, most of them on their way out or home. They patted his back or tousled his hair as they passed. He turned his head to wave them off, then quickly turned back to the two Gamps.

"I can only show you the stage last," he explained with an almost Pan-like grin. "Stardust rule, to save the best for the end."

“… Can't sit still if I wanted to. I can go on for ages and ages if you let me.” Ariadne had to turn her head away so as not to laugh openly at Virgil. He was an excited puppy with his favourite playmate. The enthusiasm was undoubtedly from the adrenaline from performing, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle either. She almost, almost, felt bad about luring her uncle into this situation, but it wasn’t as if anything would come of it, was it? Her uncle was kind, thoughtful and lovely, but Virgil was her age. Carstairs would be onto someone else in a matter of weeks once he came to his senses. She was just helping to burn out the fuse…

“What would you like to see first?”

Ariadne couldn’t help herself this time and sniggered, trying to hide it with a cough as Virgil continued his sentence and other people passed them by, smothering Ariadne’s inner monologue of far more suggestive things Virgil wanted to show the other wizard.

“… save the best for the end.”
“I bet.” Ariadne muttered quietly, staring upwards to distract herself from giggling. She realised Ceph was glancing her way and she gave an exaggerated shrug. “I dunno, wherever. We’re not theatre experts Virgil, you’re the guide. Just hope I don’t get lost…” she added with a suggestive raise of her eyebrow. “Might need rescued by some birds.”

She gestured for her uncle to follow Virgil and trailed behind, hands in pockets, eyes busy around herself.

Ariadne was simply awful! Of course, he forgave her instantly for practically laughing at him, because she was happily obliging this outlandish infatuation. Virgil had not given a lot of thought to how he was going to conduct this backstage tour and, for someone who had just been the centre of focus onstage, the idea of keeping Ceph's attention for very long on a personal basis was extremely intimidating.

            "I dunno, wherever...you’re the guide...rescued by some birds."

He smirked at her suggestion of getting lost - there were many passageways and many rooms. Ari could easily get turned around if she wanted to. Was he really considering this? Merlin, someone stop him!

"Costumes wardrobe it is!" he announced, glancing at Cepheus nervously before leading them down the same corridor he had taken to meet them. "It was my favourite part of Stardust, when I was younger. I used to play dress-up."

Virgil explained that the theatre usually kept all of its costumes, which were often mended or altered for use in future productions. They boasted a vast collection of garments that were sometimes loaned out to other magical theatres in London. The trio had not gone far down the passage when Virgil came to a halt, and pushed open a set of emerald green double doors.

"Edgar actually made many of the ensembles here," he claimed as he drew his wand and kindled the crystals that lit the great room. "I think we can find you a pair of horns, Ari. You'll have to grow your own tail."

The costumes wardrobe was a small hall with high ceilings and many many racks of colourful clothes. Here and there, posing on pedestals, were faceless velvet mannequins modelling some of the more lavish outfits. The mannequins twirled or bowed or waved becomingly at their audience. One of them wore Virgil's gown from last year's Rapunzel production; a gauzy affair beautifully matched to his eyes.

He turned around to face Cepheus and Ariadne, "We have everything from rainbow capes to angel wings and floating halos." Virgil gestured at the aisles separating each row of costumes. "You're welcome to look. None of it's very delicate, we abuse ourselves rather badly onstage."

“… I used to play dress-up.”

Anyone given half the chance would probably still play dress-up, in Ceph’s opinion. As Virgil pushed open the emerald green doors, Cepheus decided that it would be criminal not to play dress-up if allowed to enter such a room with any frequency. He glanced back at Ariadne and mouthed ‘wow’ to her in amazement at how big the costume collection was. There was so much material in this room, of all colours and more he’d never considered. There were feathers and sequins, horns and frills on row upon row of hangers.

“I think we can find you a pair of horns, Ari. You’ll have to grow your own tail.”
“Har-har says the Slytherin.” Ariadne retorted, in the background, her hands reaching out to examine something sparkly nearby.

“… you’re welcome to look.” Virgil instructed, and Cepheus nodded in acknowledgement.

“These are magnificent,” Cepheus remarked, passing by Virgil, only inches between them in the rows of costumes. He glanced back and saw Ariadne disappear to peruse the next row, leaving the two wizards. Something must have caught her eye, he thought. The twirling and bowing mannequins robbed his attention from his niece’s strategic disappearance. “Do I recognise correctly?” Cepheus asked, pointing up at the costume. “Is that from Rapunzel? I still can’t quite believe that was you, you know. You’re so very versatile.” His fingertips glanced over the arms of the costumes pressed together on the rails. “Do you have any favourites?”

He hardly noticed his flatmate's tactful disappearance, so focused was Virgil on keeping Cepheus in his line of sight. It was impossible to look away entirely away - like the far side of the moon quite unable to force its countenance from earth. The proximity between them made his heart ache and he tried to get ahold of himself, of this distracting preoccupation.

            "...can’t quite believe that was you, you know. You’re so very versatile."

Virgil looked up from a rack of ruffled shirts and glanced at the curtsying mannequin. "Thank you," the younger wizard mumbled, tried not to blush, and rubbed the back of his neck where the hairs had come on end. "It was...it's much more comfortable than it looks, the dress."

And if it weren't blatantly inappropriate he would have offered an epicurean demonstration. Luckily, the boy who never bit his tongue decided to bite his tongue just then. He turned his head at Cepheus' next question and let his gaze fall on the other man's hands, envious of their delicate touch. 

“Rapunzel is a favourite. There are some others...” Virgil trailed off while he drew his wand, “Don’t laugh but, when I was twelve, the youth troupe did a production of Hamlet. It was awful.” Spotty boys and girls spitting out Shakespeare - the audiences had been charmed, laughing instead of weeping at the bard’s well known tragedy.

Accio, Yorrick! he flicked his wrist, and then again accio Wonka hat!

Somewhere across the hall, a wooden trunk shook to life with a thump. Its lid flew open and a ghastly white skull, chattering its loose jaw, sped out with a vengeance. Virgil caught the prop with one hand the moment he spotted it hurtling down the aisle, and just as quickly threw it at Cepheus, “Catch!”

He needed his free hand to grab the — ah, there it was, a top hat wobbling towards them at a much more sedate pace. It was dressed in beautiful mauve velvet and sported a golden yellow ribbon. Simple but made with love.

“You’re holding Yorrick,” Virgil turned back to Cepheus with flourish, presenting the headpiece his father had worn nearly eleven years ago. “And you’re wearing -“ he flipped the hat and very primly set it on that stupidly beautiful mane of black hair, “- Willy Wonka’s hat.”

A waterfall of sweets toppled out on to Ceph’s crown. Soft caramels or chocolates wrapped in shiny, colourful wrappers. Virgil laughed nervously, the tips of his ears turning pink. "Oh, good. That charm still works," he cleared his throat. "Do you know who Willy Wonka is? It's a muggle book."

“Don’t laugh but,” Virgil answered, once they were alone, them stood together more closely between the rails of costumes, “… a production of Hamlet. It was awful.” Cepheus didn’t laugh but he smiled at the thought of children doing Shakespeare and stepped back a little as Virgil waved his wand, summoning things with a thump and a bump. “Catch!”

With juggler’s precision, Cepheus grasped the skull and snapped the jaws shut as Virgil seized a rather grand hat wobbling through the air. He gave Virgil his undivided attention as he flipped the hat, and he dipped his head to allow the younger man to plant it on his head. There was a thud and rustle of sweet papers and chocolates as it landed and Cepheus was surprised, a hand lifting to the hat to feel it, should it pour out a lot.

“Do you know who Willy Wonka is? It’s a muggle book.”
“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?” Cepheus asked, albeit rhetorically, peering at himself in a nearby mirror, his dark curls sticking out beneath the enormous hat. “I do! We read all sorts when we were little. Were you Charlie Bucket? Can’t see you as the horrible kids.”

He fished Wonka’s hat off his head and tried to perch it on Yorick, who wasn’t big enough and ended up pouring more sweets out instead. “Ah, gosh, sorry, I’m more a hindrance than a help!” Cepheus explained, upturning it again and handing the skull back to Virgil before he crouched to pile some of the sweets back in the brim.

“So, you prefer to act, or do you write anything?” Ceph asked, glancing up from Virgil’s waist height at close quarters. His dark hair was all fussed up from the hat and the sweets and there was a golden wrapper caught amongst it, not that he’d noticed. “Your parents write, right?”

            "...when we were little. Were you Charlie Bucket? Can’t see you as the horrible kids."

Virgil bit his lower lip, trying to picture himself as Augustus or Mike instead. To be fair he might have made a plausibly bratty Mike Teavee but there were some casting advantages to being Edgar's son. "My father played Mr Wonka so I had to be Charlie," he admitted with a fond look at the hat. "It was my first proper performance."

The next thing he knew, Yorrick was back in his hands and Cepheus was trying to pick sweets off the wooden floorboards. A blush slowly crept up Virgil's chest and neck - he felt a bit like the rows of costumes and the mannequins were watching them. The plush robes of gallant King Henrys and mad Richards, the strange clothes of pernicious pirates or fickle fauns. Their eyeless gazes trained to his every move.

"Edgar writes. I, um, I do try my hand at it." Virgil looked down at the face staring back up at him, acutely aware of what little space was between them. "Prose. And I compose, on the... on the violin." He would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he had tried to compose at least two or three ditties about Cepheus.

Gentle. Unfairly gentle, that slight tilt in the older man's lips - at odds with his almost brutish brow.

He swallowed, transferring the skull to his right hand and then reaching out with the other. "Sorry, there's just - just something in your..." Virgil carefully brushed the tips of his fingers into Ceph's black locks and picked out a golden toffee wrapper. It caught the light, gleaming. His hair felt soft, and as gloriously sanctified as it appeared. Virgil's heart twisted painfully in the brief pause.

"I do prefer acting," he tried to shake off his nervousness by returning to the subject. "It's nice, to be someone else for a while. Someone entirely different." Someone braver, kinder, prettier. Virgil smiled, realising his expression had grown somewhat sombre. "You play the piano, don't you? No other interest in music or the arts? Can't seem to escape it in my family."

Ariadne slotted back a pretty kimono costume, reading the tag for the production with a satisfied hum to herself. It was a pretty fascinating place to hang out in, and the smell of all the different materials, mixed with an odd, not quite damp, tang was intriguing. Ariadne leaned over to curiously sniff a leather costume, and glanced through the rails as she did. There, bordered by the shadowed shapes of coathangers and feathers was Virgil, blushing - full on blush too - shoulders pressed against the costumes behind him, hands clutching by the way his shoulders were hunched. Was that - was that uncle Ceph’s head - down there?!

Ariadne almost lost balance and pulled at the leather costume’s hanger in her surprise. Conversation continued in the next aisle and she dismissed the notion of what her mind had leapt to in conclusion at the limited view. But Virgil’s face! She turned round and smothered giggles in the dress of an ugly sister from a production of Cinderella.

“Compose for violin?” Cepheus asked, impressed, nodding. He’d considered it when he was a child but his father had insisted on silencing charms if anyone wanted to skin a cat - or learn to play the violin. The family had always owned a piano and each of them had been expected to learn a little. Cepheus had been the best, or perhaps the most captivated and committed to learning.

His hands hunted out the remaining sweets, lumping them back into the hat, and was reaching for a further handful, ducking towards Virgil when the other wizard apologised and fished something out of Ceph’s hair. One of the sweets, it looked like.
“Ta,” Cepheus replied informally with a smile, and glanced down to chase up the last few, ramming them back into the hat.

“… someone entirely different.” Virgil smiled. He had a pretty smile, Cepheus thought. He looked far more inviting and friendly when he smiled, and appeared ever so serious when he didn’t. Ceph got back to his feet properly, the hat in both hands, retained as Virgil posed another question.

“You play piano, don’t you? No other interest in music or the arts? Can’t seem to escape it in my family.”

“I do,” Cepheus confirmed, his smile brightening, “Music’s probably my thing, of all the arts. I used to slip out at lunch to listen to recitals in the city. Music students from universities performing to the public. When I’m home I’ll try to play things I hear on the wireless by ear, every now and then I’ll have a friend ask me to accompany. Wish I could do more, really, but it’s time and opportunity. If you write anything that needs piano, you’ll have to let me know, pop round and we'll perform to Claude.” He gave Virgil a proper beam, holding eye contact.

“Would you ever want to escape it in your family, though? Too much of your life, surely darling, and a waste of your talent.”

It occurred to Virgil, watching the other wizard rise from the floor, that Cepheus was quite possibly the only person he had really spoken to about acting - in a personal and earnest manner. It was a given amongst family, described more casually to friends. He couldn't help it. He wanted so much to share his thoughts and ideas with him, to reciprocate the kind and interested attitude expressed between them.

            "If you write anything that needs piano, you’ll have to let me know -"
"Yes!" Virgil interjected, smile relaxing into an eager grin. "I'd love that."
            "- pop round and we'll perform to Claude.”

The grin froze on his face and he felt his clasp on Yorrick marginally tighten. Claude? Who was Claude? Did Claude live with Cepheus? He tried to recollect if it had been brought up in conversation before. The name itself conjured images of French decadence: a long-haired man, broad in the shoulders, distinguished in countenance. Inclined luxuriously on a damask chaise lounge, listening to classical music next to--

            "...escape it in your family, though? Too much of your life, surely darling, and a waste of your talent."

Virgil banished his bizarre  imaginings, something in his chest torn between self-loathing and humiliation. Of course Cepheus might have... intimate friends. Or lovers. It wasn't like Ari knew what her uncle's love life was like!

"Y-you're right," he confessed and walked further ahead to put just a little distance between them so that Ceph wouldn't see the look on his face. "I do love and miss it when I'm away. My interests are at war." Among other things. His heart and mind, for instance: one urging and the other cautioning.

Neither particularly helpful right now. He trailed his hand over the shoulders of velvet dresses on the rack, cradled Yorrick on his other side. "Maybe I'll do as you did?" Virgil looked over his shoulder - his smile had softened in his resignation. "Career change. Return to Shakespeare after being on nine. Is... is Claude your flatmate, by the way? Does he like music too?"

In the end, he couldn't help but ask, and flatmate sounded safer than boyfriend.

“My interests are at war.” Virgil described, walking ahead with the skull. Cepheus trailed with the Wonka hat, not sure where to put it. “Maybe I’ll do as you did? Career change. Return to Shakespeare after being on Nine.” Cepheus wasn’t sure how he had ‘returned’ to Being Division, but he recalled telling Virgil about working for Gringotts which hadn’t been as morally satisfying, when they’d met at the careers fair.

“Is.. is Claude your flatmate, by the way? Does he like music too?” Virgil asked that so tentatively, Cepheus gave a soft look.

“Of sorts, yes,” the older wizard agreed, unwittingly prolonging Virgil’s agony. “I’m never too sure what music he likes, I mean, he doesn’t protest when I play but he’ll go out if I play for a while.” He shrugged. “Claude’s favourite things to do are sitting amongst flowers, occupying armchairs, and curling up on me in bed. He can have the whole other side but he insists on curling up right against me. But, hey, he keeps me company. Where shall I put this hat back?”

It was a bloody good thing he hadn't eaten anything at intermission, because his stomach was in an awful state listening to Cepheus describe the habits of this sybaritic Frenchman! This lazy scoundrel who took up space on armchairs! The image returned to Virgil's mind with full force and he had to stop himself from pulling a face when he pictured this imaginary bloke curled up next to the most sublime person in the world. Worst of all was the tenderness in Cepheus' expression when he spoke.

Who knew that tenderness could make anyone feel like this? Aching all over? "Where shall I put this hat back?" Ceph was awkwardly hanging on to the costume piece.

"Oh, right, sorry. Let me." Virgil managed not to stammer, quickly stepping back down the aisle to reach for the hat. "He, um, he sounds like a very.... affectionate partner." Nobody could be blamed for wanting to be right against Cepheus. Or on top of him, or under him for that matter.

The younger wizard turned around and pushed side some of the clothes on the rack, hanging up the hat on a spare hook at the end of it. The skull was very neatly set at the bottom, where colourful pairs of shoes were lined up - he could tidy afterwards. "You should bring him to Stardust."

Why did he say that, shit. Virgil straightened up and turned to face Cepheus again, hands shyly behind his back now.

"For music, I mean, not a show. We do amateur performances on weekend afternoons."