Early hours of October 1st


Slowly and steadily, Ceph’s guests[1] had begun to retire. The newly-engaged were confined to the spare room, and in the next room, a set of wardrobe doors were wide open, revealing one of Ceph’s most expensive investments in furniture, lit by candlelight. It had been a logical progression, once he and Virgil had realised they were of similar size.

Cepheus sat on the end of his double bed. To either side of him, there were several items of his own clothes laid out carefully on the bed, and Virgil was browsing the expanded space inside. Cepheus smiled to himself as he remembered browsing the costume racks at Stardust[2] the night Virgil had given him and Ariadne a tour, only this time it was Ceph’s actual taste in clothes that was being examined.

“You could always try it on,” he told the younger wizard, gesturing to the hanger Virgil was currently holding up.

1.	30th September, 2011 When Words Take a Different Shape
2.	22nd July, 2011 Second Star to the Right

It seemed entirely unfair that, in addition to being sublime and loving books and having wonderfully weird cat mugs, Cepheus was also in possession of an enviable wardrobe. Virgil was quite high enough to ignore any inhibitions he had about looking through the clothes but the tea from earlier in the evening had somewhat grounded him enough to focus onsomething. Besides simply staring at the older wizard’s visage.

Everything in here smelled like… like cedar wood cologne. Old leather and wizarding tobacco, which he could still taste on his lips from their smoke outside, earlier. Traces of a cold September evening.

He was examining the fine suede of a navy leather jacket, trailing his fingers along the collar, when Ceph said it was alright to try it on. Oh!

Virgil grinned, blushing. It was so easy to get caught up in details when he wasn’t really sober. “Thanks. It’s very nice. And so hard to find good leather in navy these days,” he unbuttoned his vest with one hand and shrugged it off. “I always think I look a bit pretentious when I try to wear leather jackets.”

Handling it more carefully than his own vest, which he let drop to the floor, Virgil slipped on the article and lifted his arms to give a graceful little twirl for Cepheus’ benefit.

“No?” he glanced at the other man, sticking his bottom lip out in thoughtful pout. “Too bratty, perhaps?”

“Bratty?” Cepheus asked, “You?”

Had that been Ariadne answering, those two words would be laced with sarcasm as she knew the true Virgil when he wasn’t swooning.

“No, darling, well - I suppose I do wear it when I want to muster a dose more confidence and swagger.” He shrugged his slender shoulders, his dark brown shirt unbuttoned lower than it had been while out, creasing to reveal a pale collarbone. He had long rolled the sleeves up to just beneath his elbows when they were out, such had been the warm day. Now the temperature outside had dropped to remind them autumn attempted to arrive, and a cool draught tickled Ceph’s bare feet on the bedroom floor.

He wriggled his toes as he leaned back to give Virgil a look from head to toe in his jacket, a grin forming, tip of his tongue caught between his teeth in contemplation. He hoped he looked that good in the jacket. Maybe he ought to wear it more if Virgil didn’t borrow it.

“You’ve got all the confidence, so Gods help us if you wear that out. You’ll be beating the boys off left, right and centre.”

For a moment, like any moment in which he could sense Ceph’s eyes on him, Virgil felt raw and vulnerable - flayed to his core. He had to stop himself from hiding his face when the other wizard drew out the observation. Did he know what he looked like? Sitting there on that bed with stupidly beautiful hair, a sliver of a clandestine moon peeking out from behind his shirt collar?

The final verdict caused Virgil to duck his head, and he self-consciously examined the sleeves of the jacket - it was too warm to wear it over his striped sweater but he kept it on a little longer because it smelled like Cepheus.

“You’re awfully kind to say that. It’s not really confidence….” he trailed off and leaned back slightly against the wardrobe door, something shy in his drunken gaze. “I just act confident, until I feel it. Then I can be anyone at all. Almost anyone, I mean, I don’t think I could be you..”

Virgil, even with his knack for imitation, wouldn’t dare it.

“Me?” Cepheus asked, taking a second to catch up with Virgil’s train of thought. “Oh, you think I’m confident?” He looked genuinely surprised, and a little flattered. “I fake it ‘til I make it, Virgil. Honest to Merlin.” He leaned on only one elbow and raked his right hand fingers through his untamed mane of dark hair self consciously. “At least you’ve the talent to act the part.”

He extended his arm out towards Virgil, fingers splayed in gesture.
“You’re welcome to borrow it, you look better than me in it.” He chuckled, “Unspeakable in leather…” in my bedroom, Ceph added in his head, and propped his elbow back beneath him and the mattress.

He glanced left and right of himself, “You are going to leave me some clothes, right?”

“Is it really talent or just loads of practice, if I’ve been doing it all my life?” Virgil threw out this philosophical query, though more to himself, and found the rest of his words had caught in his throat. Better? Nobody could look better than Cepheus in anything, especially not this jacket. Especially not when he was doing that awful, awful thing with his hair. How dare he.

            ”Unspeakable in leather….” the comment seemed harmless, only it was followed by a thought that made Virgil suddenly aware of where they were. A brief moment of lucidity in their night of liquor and gillyweed. Bedroom. They were in the bedroom.

He was in Cepheus Gamp’s bedroom. Shit. Shouldn’t have read that thought. He was so so high and he was in the man's most personal sphere, his sleeping area. A place of rest or intimacy.

Virgil decided to take the jacket off just then, the heat in his face and chest already threatening to colour him pinker than porcelain. He turned around to face the innards of the wardrobe once more.

“It’s not my fault you have good taste in attire,” the younger wizard glanced over his shoulder, returning the leather jacket to its rightful place and drawing out a black lace shirt he had spotted earlier. It was easy to find by touch, delicate against sensitive fingertips. “Clothes are my weakness. And pastries. And gillyweed. I am approximately eighty percent weaknesses and twenty percent Shakespeare.”

With a coquettish little turn, he held the shirt up to Ceph, blonde eyebrows dramatically arched. “Have you actually worn this before?”

Cepheus tittered gently at Virgil’s declaration of what he was made up of.
“Eighty percent?!” He exclaimed softly, shaking his head playfully. Never, could anyone be eighty percent weaknesses. They’d be a puddle of a person. He tilted his head to one side as he contemplated his own weaknesses - lovely books, buying nice clothes and keeping pretty but good company - when Virgil turned back with a rather more daring shirt.

“Well, yes, but it’s definitely a summer look. Leaves nothing to the imagination.” Ceph smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Try it on, you’ll see.” He crossed one leg over the other, and wiggled his foot, but his eyes didn’t leave Virgil. He was rather entrancing to watch try on all these things. Ceph wasn’t sure he’d be able to pass off any of the younger wizard’s wardrobe - not unless he lost his beard to restore the more youthful appearance beneath it. Still, they had different colours, Virgil most brilliant blonde hair, and Cepheus nearly black mane. They could easily while away a whole day doing this somewhere in London. His sister might be put out, but it seemed he and Virgil had a common understanding when it came to purchases.

The more he got to know Virgil, the more they had in common. He was surprisingly good company, and he could quite forget he’d still been at Hogwarts the last quarter.

He licked his lips as he observed.

“You’re not meant to wear anything under it, see.”

The hanger very nearly slipped out of his hand when Cepheus suggested he try it on. It was perfectly natural considering he had just spent the better part of a half hour shamelessly nicking jackets and button-up shirts to model for his own amusement, playing dress-up in the way anyone might if they were vain enough or enjoyed pretend games. Only this particular shirt meant… it meant…taking off his...

Why in Merlin’s name was he acting like a blushing courtesan? 

            “You’re not meant to wear anything under it, see.” Cepheus clarified without looking away, and something about the licking of those lips stirred purient sensations lower than Virgil’s already chimeral gut.

Oh. Oh, he was in so much trouble.

“Of course,” he cleared his throat as if everyone knew you shouldn’t wear a daring lace shirt if you weren’t going to go all out in it. “Would pair really well with, um, with fitted trousers I suppose…” his muttering faded into silence and he approached to bed to put the shirt down a moment.

Virgil hesitantly reached for the hem of his own sweater and tugged it off, taking a deep breath in surprise as the relatively cool air of the flat hit him. It was cosy indoors but he had hidden under layers until just now.

“Bbrrrr!” the blonde giggled, shivering theatrically as he glanced at Ceph and tried to ignore the sensitive prickling of goosebump flesh, or the inevitable hardening of his nipples against the cold.

He didn’t hesitate to pull on the lace shirt. “Certainly a summer look.” Virgil conceded,  clever fingers sliding each button into its home. It didn’t look too bold when he had it on.

“Shirt tucked in or left out?” he asked, glancing at Cepheus who rested against the sheets like an oblivious Grecian statue. Virgil’s knees knocked against of the bed and he completed the final two buttons up to the delicately framed neckline.

---

Cepheus, in his hazy state after their smoke on the steps outside, was at ease reclined on his bed. He couldn’t stop his smiles, and the world felt soft. Virgil’s lithe torso was revealed from his evening’s outfit, and Cepheus pressed his lips together as he failed to divert his gaze.

The last time he’d had someone strip off in here with him had been altogether more heated, and they’d gone to bed next door. Had there not been a party of five… The colliding thoughts made Cepheus readjust his folded leg for comfort as Virgil drew close, buttoning up the lace shirt. The older wizard blinked, seeing Virgil again in focus once he had, looking upwards when he posed a question.

“Hm, well, what’s your waist like -” Cepheus replied, reaching out to touch the shirt tails and lift one to consider Virgil’s trousers when he noticed something unexpected. Was Virgil… aroused? The tell-tale swelling in his trousers was unmistakable.

And the pause between question and consideration was now conspicuous. Cepheus thought to pose a question, to ignore it, but surely Virgil realised he’d clocked it now, and he still had hold of the tail of the shirt.

“Out.” Cepheus decided, and looked up to Virgil with a soft, inviting smile. “You look tired,” he always did a little, “won’t you come lie down?”

He wanted to pull away all of a sudden, mortified when the front tail of the lace shirt was lifted- and yet the combination of gillyweed and Ceph’s generally intoxicating presence had frozen Virgil to the spot. In spite of the sensations felt upon being an object of the other man’s attention, it hadn’t occurred to him that…. that it might be so obvious. But of course he was turned on! Gleaning it  in Cepheus’ thoughts didn’t make this any less provocative.

The words that came weren't direct, however. No needling or knowing jokes or crude teasing.

Virgil was brittle, like he could dissolve into dust if somebody touched him now. He could sense the heat in his cheeks spread to the pink tips of his ears and he very carefully sat on the bed. His heartbeat was so fast it felt more of a light humming in his chest. Was this alright?

It wasn’t like they were doing anything, not really, even if he suspected they were misbehaving, somehow. The younger wizard did feel tired. Perhaps it showed on his face.

“Thank you.” Virgil said softly, not sure what he was thanking Cepheus for, as he let himself melt into the navy blanket - laying his head down and curling up on his side in an attitude that he hope made his plight a little less obvious. He had long ago tugged off his woolen socks.

The sheets were redolent of Claude’s fur and his owner’s scent, which made Virgil want to roll around like an indolent cat himself.

He had lowered his gaze to avoid meeting Ceph in the eye but now he raised it, because how can you avoid looking at such an impossible face?

“Cepheus.” Virgil pressed his lips together, mouth sulky with insecurity and desire. “May I ask you a question, please?” That was how this had all begun: him asking Cepheus Gamp a question[1] in the Hogwarts library. “It’s a little personal.”

1.	Ready to Go, Heartbeat - 27th March

The pale young wizard relented, blushing as he settled beside him on the blanket. Flanked by the clothes laid out during the wardrobe exploration, they lay together a little more closely than the might have if the bed was empty. Virgil’s cologne mixed with the soapwort and eucalyptus scents lingering to washed linens and the lasting tang of gillyweed. All they needed now was Claude to prowl in and pointedly stand on them both, making out he was missing out on attention.

“Of course,” Cepheus replied softly, so soft his voice barely made more than a whisper given the hour and how close they were. He could see how Virgil’s crown of golden hair was quite a blend from white to deep barley shades. The low light in the room drew out the brightest strands.

Would this be another query about courting vampires? Possibly not. Would this be a more awkward question about what he’d just seen stirring? He’d cross that bridge if Virgil led him that way.

He drew in a deep breath, stifling the butterflies threatening to spill out in place of words. That would be all too easy.

“That is. Um.” Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic, “....how do you get your hair to look that good, exactly?” Virgil cursed internally and sighed, covering his face with his hands in an obvious fluster. “That’s not it. Sorry.”


Ceph’s eyes instinctively glanced upwards at the question about his hair, but when Virgil clarified it wasn’t his intended question, he blinked and looked down, momentarily confused. “It’s alright,” he reassured the other wizard, “something on your mind?”


Not wanting to disappoint or frustrate Cepheus, Virgil peered through his fingers and then slowly reached out with one hand to touch a lock of dark hair framing the delicate incline of his chin. It seemed miraculous that he could come this close to a person like Ceph. A breath away from touching, close enough to examine beauty in detail. It really was a beautiful mane of hair.

“Do you find me attractive?” he asked in one go, swallowing his nervousness the way you took your medicine whole. “Not just… not just objectively.”

Cepheus swallowed, lips coming apart in mild surprise at the question. Gods, how to answer that without hurting Virgil’s feelings or giving him false hope. He’d never had the balls to ask an older man that when he was eighteen.

Hell, Virgil was eighteen.

And he would be lying if he said no.

“Yes,” Cepheus replied, voice barely there again, he wet his lips, looking a little worriedly to Virgil, “and would I be correct to assume you do me?”

Virgil thought that his heart had momentarily vacated his chest - he couldn’t register it, couldn’t even tell what his expression looked like, whether it was calm or dread in its boyish countenance. It was as if he didn't exist at all for a single prolonged second.

Ceph didn’t look happy or excited or anything that he thought someone should be if they actually liked him.

“I do,” he said in a tone that carried more conviction than he meant to assert. “You’re more than attractive. You’re kind. I don’t think you know how nervous I am around you.” Virgil paused, lips still trying to grapple with a conflict of emotions and finding it impossible to stifle them all at once. “I’m never nervous.”

“You must get-” Cepheus replied hastily, and then stopped himself. He dropped his gaze as if ashamed. That response was defensive, deflective through being startled. It was his first thought to react, and his first ideas were never the best.

“I mean, thank you.”

He looked up again, resolving to focus properly on Virgil. He couldn’t help but feel that the younger man had lost his way. A lost boy, just like Peter Pan, oh.

Cepheus twisted onto his side, and propped his head up with his right arm. “You have everything going for you, you know?” He began, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. The sort he’d talk kindly to house elves with, and Ariadne when she floundered. A smile forced its way to the surface of his face, dispelling the shock.

“Brains, beauty, talent,” he reached out and gently brushed Virgil’s golden tresses from his clammy forehead. “Just because you’re nervous doesn’t mean you’re not brave.”