It was Sunday, and the sun was shining. Ariadne Gamp was sprawled on her front in bed, her hand limp over the edge. Her nose was pressed into her pillow and until a minute ago she had been absolutely asleep. Something had woken her up, and she hazily cracked an eye open, and then closed again against the light. She’d been dreaming about something, but it had run away, as dreams do.

The wail of a violin permeated her bedroom door. A song in minor key, swelling in courage. Virgil was practising, and he’d forgotten to use muffliato. Bastard. What time was it?

Ariadne pushed herself up off the mattress and reached for her alarm clock. Early - like, work early. It was Sunday, and the Quidditch season didn’t start until Friday, so this was one of her last legit weekend lay-ins before she would be out at all hours and in all weathers. Why was Virgil playing sad melodies on the violin at this hour of the morning?

Uncle Ceph’s letter protruded from beneath the alarm clock, and Ariadne felt the cold, guilty feeling revisit her stomach from yesterday evening. She knew why Virgil was playing mournful violin, and she had to get up and deal with it.

Fifteen minutes later, Ariadne shouldered shut the front door, her hands full of paper bags. The melancholy violin music was even louder than it had been when she had left. Her attempts to rehearse the words all the way back up Diagon Alley evaporated as she lifted her hand to Virgil’s door to knock.

“Vir… hey, Virgil,” Ariadne called, tentatively, full of guilt. “Hey, open the door won’t you?”

His room[1] was a mess.

Morning light shone through the window, lighting up linen jackets of hardcover books and the vase of purple larkspurs on his bedside table. Clothes were strewn across the duvet, old cigarette buds at the windowsill, music sheets on the floor. The air was redolent of vanilla cologne, a bittersweet affair, underlaid by fresh herbs and smoke. He drew his bow away from the violin when a knock came at the door.

Virgil's riffing of Bizet's Nocturne would have to wait. He could hear Ari speaking, so he clasped both instrument and bow in one hand before going to the door.

"What?" he threw it open, looking a sight in oversized pyjamas, blonde hair slicked back severely. The shadows under his eyes were more pronounced than usual. His eyes were cuttingly blue. Something about seeing Ari softened his manner, however, and he stepped aside to admit her and her paper bags.

It wasn't Ariadne's fault than Virgil had gone and proved himself an utter child to her uncle. He hadn't told anyone, mostly out of embarrassment, but it looked like he didn't have to tell his flatmate. Brilliant. Abso-bloody-lutely brilliant.

"He told you?" Virgil tossed his violin on the the far side of the bed and turned back to give Ari a heatless glare. "Of course he did. He's just so nice and proper, isn't he?"

1.	Approx. sketch by our wonderful Niobe: link

“Mayyyybe….” Ariadne replied, vowels drawn out indecisively, “but I come in peace,” she gave Virgil a lopsided smile, lifting the bags, “with offerings.”

She set them down beside Virgil’s record player and unrolled the tops of each bag in turn for Virgil’s approval, including his favourite drink from Alohomocha. She’d gone all out here, she had a proper apology to make. As she extended them, she glanced about the room, taking in the graveyard of fag ends on the windowsill, the sheet music on the floor, the mournful violin and the great shadows under Virgil’s eyes.

“He didn’t tell me what, if it’s any consolation, just that I owe you both a proper apology.” She explained. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what had gone down to make Virgil look like this more than twenty-four hours later. This wasn’t Ariadne’s forte, romance. She’d stuck her nose in where she really shouldn’t have.

“Are you… are you alright?”

Whatever venom he felt for Cepheus, unfortunately, could not last for very long. It was difficult to despise the older man for doing what had ultimately been a sensible move - the sting of it only made Virgil warier of exposing his feelings on the matter, lest they were gently tucked into bed again. Gentle hadn't been what he wanted that night. Merlin knew what he wanted.

It was therefore a relief to know Ceph hadn't told Ari exactly what happened.

"I'm not alright." Virgil replied bluntly, even as he approached her offerings with the haughtiness of a curious cat. "You brought me coffee -" he reached into one of the bags and picked out the small paper cup that contained a fragrant macchiato, "- thank you."

He sipped on it and took out a florentine biscuit from another bag, glancing at Ariadne. "You don't have to apologise to me. I drank too much and smoked too much and made an utter fool of myself."

Virgil bit into the biscuit; the bitterness of the dark chocolate clashed beautifully with the other, more sugary notes. He turned around and leaned against the trunk, sullen mouth busy with its resentful chomping.

"I hate this," he muttered incisively, not meaning the florentines. "I hate feeling like this, I'm supposed to be better than that. Of all people, why did it have to be him?"

Why couldn't it have been someone easier to read or seduce? Someone who wasn't so bloody infuriating?

“… I drank too much and smoked too much and made an utter fool of myself.”

Ariadne was pretty sure that was precisely what they were meant to do in their late teens and early twenties. She wasn’t very good at the drinking, had tried the smoking and given up immediately, and she did the last habitually, though sometimes it worked out in her favour.

“Why, would you prefer it was Nick?” Ariadne asked, a little flippantly, but to try and tease a little good humour from Virgil’s sullen face. “I don’t think we get to pick who we have a crush on, Vir. Most people get a crush on a teacher, don’t they?” She shrugged, “so maybe it’s just like that, only… not a teacher, but as old as one.” She perched on the end of Virgil’s bed, legs folded beneath her, shoes on the floor.

“No, I’m sorry, Virgil, because I didn’t exactly pour water on the flames. He wrote me yesterday night. Proper disappointment job - what have I been saying to you, how could I have wound you up like that… and he’s … he’s right. I’m sorry Virgil, I didn’t think, I didn’t think you’d …” awkward.

            "Why, would you prefer it was Nick?"

"I'd have gotten Nick out of my system by now if it were him." Virgil muttered with a soft snort as he tipped his head back to drain the rest of the macchiato - it gave his brain a generous kick. "I would have preferred someone who didn't make me feel like I was a bloody child. Or someone meaner, I don't know."

Peter Pan. That's what Cepheus has thought, that he was a lost boy. An endearing term from Abby but a damning sentence from someone you were pursuing.

Virgil plopped himself on to his bed, bringing his legs up on to it not far from Ariadne.

"You didn't think I'd actually tell him I liked him," he picked up the tail end of her words where she had trailed off and considered another florentine - turning it over in his pale hand like a large coin. "I didn't either. It just slipped out."

Ari didn't need to know how that involved him getting a bit too aroused when he was trying on Cepheus' clothes, the black lace shirt which was now hiding in his wardrobe. "Wound me up, he said?" Virgil glanced up from the biscuit and looked at Ari softly. "You didn't really. I don't blame you for that anyway."

It wasn't his flatmate who'd sent him flowers on opening night, who had called him a blonde haired angel and complimented him so sweetly.

"I read too much into stupid little things." Virgil explained and ran a hand through his hair, messing up the neat locks that had been combed back.

“You didn’t think I’d actually tell him I liked him,” Ariadne gave an awkward shrug, agreeing that was largely what she meant. She’d never imagined Virgil would end up getting to know her uncle in the massive Ministry, let alone ending up in his flat in such a close proximity he could proposition her relative.

“I read too much into stupid little things.” Virgil continued, after saying he didn’t blame Ariadne.
“Don’t we all when we want it to be true,” his flatmate agreed. “But really, I am sorry, Virgil. You asked me all about him, and I was only to happy to help, even though I knew you had a crush.” Ariadne blushed gently, and pulled at Virgil’s bedclothes in distraction, “and I left you in the costumes and spied on you. I was cruel. I just thought it was funny, and sweet and … harmless.”

She looked up and pressed her lips together, pouting beneath sad eyes. “Now you’re both hurt. You’re playing sad music, moping and…” she was going to say crying but boys didn’t like that pointed out, did they? “And my favourite uncle is writing to say he’s disappointed in me, worried he’s embarrassed you.” Ariadne huffed. “So I got you breakfast, as a party-way apology, like.” She looked up at Virgil properly. “Was it terrible? How did even happen?”

In spite the Awfulness of Friday, her bringing up their backstage tour at the theatre still managed to unwrinkle Virgil's sulky scowl. That had felt like a magical night, mixing Cepheus with Stardust. He understood why she felt bad - she had enabled his crush and enjoyed a bit of fun watching him languish in his secret affections. But he'd had such a good time of it, it was hard to feel upset with her.

And hadn't she and him become better acquainted because of all this? When they weren't, before? Virgil found he didn't mind the enabling at all.

"I'm sorry he's disappointed in you," he glanced down at where her hands were tugging at the hem of his oversized shirt. "And apology accepted. Really, Ari. I'm glad we're friends now and that you're living here." Nick was great fun but Ari was a good sport, and not always harping on about sex.

             "Was it terrible? How did even happen?"

A mortified blush coloured his cheeks. He should tell her. If only so that she didn't assume the worst.

"I was trying on his clothes and I -" Virgil breathed in and covered his face, the memory still fresh in mind, "- can we just say I got a bit too excited and leave it at that?" he looked at her from the gaps between his fingers. "Ceph noticed. I wanted to die."

Cepheus had been right about embarrassing him but not in the way that made it the fault of either Gamp. It had been his own body that betrayed the truth!

Ariadne clapped her hands to her face, sharing his mortification. Her eyes widened impossibly, eyebrows attempting to hide in her hair.
“Oh Merlin!” She exclaimed, “How… oh gosh, that is terrible.” No wonder her uncle hadn’t elaborated in his short owl to her yesterday evening. “Winding you up has suddenly taken a whole new meaning.”

She broke into giggles despite the severity of the situation. Partly because the image of her uncle finding out in her head was so ridiculous. He was such a kind, thoughtful soul, and yet she knew he would very much like to have someone to call his own. He probably hadn’t known where to look. She imagined the owl he’d sent her had been difficult to phrase, given how close they were, and how alien talking about such things to Ariadne was when he so keenly remembered her when she was little. Come to think of it all, this had probably been the downfall of the situation in its entirety.

“Baaaargh!”

She shook herself out bodily and sobered. “But could have been so, so much worse. I mean, imagine if it hadn’t been you, but Nick in your shoes. How do you think he’d have gone about it?” It so easily could have been, after all. Both of them worked in the Ministry and it was far more likely Nick would cross paths with her uncle given their jobs.

Baaaargh! was right!

Virgil laughed at himself, stupidly glad to have gotten that off his chest and that she knew exactly how awkward it must have been because.... because she knew Cepheus. What kind of person he was. He lowered his hands, wearing a smile of embarrassment and lighthearted self-deprecation.

"They would have banged. Probably?" Virgil hazarded a guess, sticking out his bottom lip as he tried to imagine what their flatmate might have done under the same circumstances. "It's different, Nick's always looking for a fun fuck isn't he? I was..." he sighed melodramatically and flopped back on the mattress.

Dante, his white Turkish Angora, skittered out from under the bed at all this commotion. She hopped on to one of the pillows and eyed them with her mismatched eyes.

He reached out to pet her head, and turned his gaze back to Ariade. "Cepheus thought I was some sort of Lost Boy. He wouldn't have thought the same about Nick." Virgil looked at the ceiling and the morning light that threw shadows across it.

"Besides, there were other blokes there earlier in the evening. Balfour Spectre and Johann Storm and the STD wizard from the sex talks," he explained with a soft snort. "Nick would propositioned all of them."

“The STD wizard?” Ariadne echoed, “What an unfortunate nickname. I don’t remember him… I think I managed to erase that day from my mind mostly.” She nibbled on their breakfast and tried to imagine Nick. “He is a lot more forthcoming, isn’t he? Anything that breathes. I’d like to think he’s not my uncle’s type, because well.” She eyed Virgil. “Nick would just shrug it off. He just… does people doesn’t he? Apart from Peyton, of course. I mean, well he does him, but I mean … oh.”

How had this become about Nick? She was trying to make Virgil feel better.

“Well, we both agreed you made a spectacular Peter Pan,” she assured Virgil. “And it wasn’t Nick who invited him to look backstage, or for a smoke or picked up off the floor. I can only claim credit for one of these coincidences. The rest was all you and your charm.” She winked at Virgil.

“Anyhow,” she shuffled round on the end of his bed to face him, “why has this always got to do with sex? It’s like you and Nick are obsessed. There are other ways to enjoy people’s company, and it is possible to like people and not go to bed with them.”

Because as far as Ariadne knew, both her flatmates liked her and enjoyed her company but did not want to go to bed with her.

… she hoped.

He doubted that Ari was the only one who'd decided to erase that talk from memory. If it hadn't been the day he first laid eyes on Cepheus, perhaps Virgil might have felt the same way. Instead, he still had the Ministry card the older wizard had handed him after the talk - it was tucked into his journal, as were the pressed flowers he'd made from the opening night bouquet.

Which was pathetic. But he couldn't help it.

            "...why has this always got to do with sex? It’s like...possible to like people and not go to bed with them."

He sat up slightly, resting back on his elbows and watching Ariadne as she posed her question. As far as Virgil knew, she'd never had any particular relations with their peers. Not everyone was sex crazy at Hogwarts so he could sort of understand how all of this looked like from the outside.

"I don't know. I like lots of people without wanting to sleep with them..." Virgil mused and narrowed his gaze in contemplation, almost imitating Dante's slow blinking. "I don't think it's just about sex with Cepheus, though. I like being around him and talking to him."

Friday night had been different. There had been obvious enticements but they'd been having a good time chatting about clothes and life. Virgil snapped away from that thought, focusing his attention back on Ari.

"I guess we seem obsessed because it's easy to use sex to make some people uncomfortable." Virgil shrugged, thinking of people like Moira and Sasha who had been less than fluent on the subject. "I don't...." he paused, hesitating and looking away. "I've had negative experiences before. Talking about it lightly helps make me feel like it isn't important."

Ariadne was glad to hear that Virgil hadn’t become obsessed with his dick as much as he could make out when he and Nick got going in the company of friends. Virgil had always been the more subtle, though not necessarily tactful. She had, however, shared a dorm with Sophie and heard the story of the abandoned hospital hut...

“Well,” Ariadne replied, treading lightly with the inference of ‘negative experiences’ dropped just before it, “I think the feeling is probably mutual.” She didn’t want to speak for her uncle, after all, given she was already in the bad books for what she had said to Virgil up until now. Having never consciously met anyone her uncle was dating, what did she have to go on? For all she knew, Virgil could be perfection. Doubtful.

“You’ve probably seen him more than I have the past couple of months,” Ariadne pointed out, “You went drinking with him, and he’s promised me that for years.” She shrugged her shoulders and upturned her palms. “Is all this sad violin playing because you’ve ‘broken up with him’ or because you didn’t get laid? He didn’t tell you leave did he?”

The tension in his shoulders slid off as they moved on from the subject of sex, which took on a more genuine tone with Ari than it ever did with Nick or his more Bohemian housemates. Virgil couldn't stop himself from cracking a sad smile to hear that she hadn't seen as much of her uncle recently - it was probably nothing more than a reflection of the fact that both he and Ceph worked at the Ministry.

Virgil drew his legs on to the bed, crossing them to sit up properly as he reached for the violin he'd discarded earlier.

"No. He didn't tell me to leave," he rested the instrument in his lap and plucked mournfully at its strings. "He was nice, actually. I don't know why that's worse. I think I was... I was looking for a different reaction. Not sex or anything like that, just different from what happened. He was so surprised."

Perhaps Virgil had been wrong about knowing what he wanted, after all. The only thing he really knew was that he wished to be in Ceph's presence and that something about the man made him feel like nothing else. Alive. Excited. And he felt this way regardless of being tucked into bed like a pouting child.

"I probably just need to distract myself until I'm ready to think about it without cringing." Virgil wrinkled his nose and glanced up at Ari. "I do still think he's the most wonderful person, Ari. With the best taste in cat mugs."

“Oh the best.” Ariadne agreed, that mug collection was something to behold even before you looked at the teacups. It made Christmas and birthdays something a bit easier to manage - especially considering her uncle’s birthday fell straight after Christmas.

She was very glad that Cepheus had been nice to Virgil about things. She hadn’t anticipated he’d be horrible. He was always nice about things, Ariadne admired that ability. She felt she was more like aunt Andromeda, energetic, liable to snap if really pushed, though she didn’t consider herself to have her aunt’s brains.

“I’m sure in a week or two you’ll be right as rain together, talking about cats and theatre and swapping clothes. You’ll laugh it off.” She reached over and gave in to curiosity, plucking at one of Virgil’s strings, lips twisting mischievously. “He’s probably playing sad piano songs at his place right now and telling Claude all about it.” She plucked another string, reaching to squeeze Virgil’s knee in a friendly manner, “But I’m not going over there with breakfast.”

End