Sasha sat hunched over on the cushioned bench in front of his locker,  his elbows resting on his knees and his forehead propped up on his hands.  His fingertips worked small circles into his temples, a temporary attempt at soothing the dully headache that had been building over the last few hours.  Without looking up, he could hear feet shuffling softly over hard polished floors and the syncopation of the door clicking shut, the telltale sounds of people heading back to their work stations at the end of the lunch hour. 

He was exhausted.  Emotionally and physically.  He'd spent the past month starting the day by affixing a brave and unaffected face before heading out into the world.  It had become a necessary part of his daily routine; a new job had required it, social engagements had dictated it and, in the end, life had to happen.  The essential means to the end of getting through from one day to the next. 

The last few days had been especially taxing; getting out and spending the holidays with the people who had become important to him had been both important and exhausting.  Despite his uncertainty going into it, he had enjoyed connecting with people during the festivities; it was not only incredibly valuable but it had proved a much more effective antidote to the inevitable waves of loss and grief that came with Christmas than he'd expected.  But, that had come at the price of renewed guilt that he'd had to find a way to deal with at the end of the day. 

He'd taken yesterday off to try to recover from the holiday proper and it had worked for the most part; he'd made it through the morning while managing to feel and appear like his usual, normal self.  But, the tank had been running low to start with and he'd hit the proverbial wall just as they'd quit for the morning.  Lunch had been spent desperately trying to find the energy to get through the afternoon in the same fashion. 

To finish preparing for that required a few minutes alone in the locker room.  So, Sasha continued to wait for the last of the scragglers to slip out of the locker room and back to their stations.  Without looking up, he could hear the last flurry of shuffling feet and the soft click of a door closing behind them before the locker room settled into silence.  With a long sigh of relief, Sasha dropped his hands and lifted his head, reaching out to open his locker. 

"Scheiß," he muttered under his breath when he realized Virgil still lingered in the otherwise empty locker room.  He was racing against the growing dull ache behind his temple.  Impatiently, Sasha pushed himself to his feet and tugged open his locker, fishing the small potion vial from his bag before slipping it into his coat pocket. 

He was living, for the first time in his short life, in silence.

Virgil had woken up on the day of A Christmas Carol to the sounds of his mother and father's house - kitchen sounds, breakfast sounds, a dog barking in somebody else's yard. But the low buzz of thoughts, the background noise that he tried so hard to block out at times, it just... it wasn't there. Neither, for that matter, was his ability to cast magic. He'd gone ahead with the play (the show must go on) but Yavin had made him come into level nine for observation for at least an hour every day since the occurence.

They were worried that it might have something to do with the Sphere. A few other Unspeakables were experiencing the same phenomenon, all of them undergoing various tests for it. They were in a panic. Yavin was worried but conversely optimistic. Virgil probably should have been more terrified by the prospect of losing his magic.

Perhaps he would have been, if he wasn't also so delighted by the silence in his head.

The young wizard pulled his sweater over his head and shook his golden hair out, humming to himself. Christmas songs. He was sticking around for more tests after a rather thorough one involving submersion in brain fluid; there was time to waste on level nine.

Virgil didn't realise he wasn't alone until he crossed the locker room and had to stop to sit on a bench and tie his laces - no shoelace tying charms today. He caught a glimpse of Sasha at his locker, working hard as only a Sasha can.

"Had a merry Christmas, o prince?" he asked in a chipper voice, looping his white laces into rabbit years and pulling them into a knot before looking up properly. "You look like you had one too many glasses of Schnapps, or whatever it is boring people drink at the holidays." Sparkling cider, maybe, or spiked punch.

[M] - for language

---

He could ignore the humming.  He could barely hear the humming.  The humming wasn't bothering him.  The humming didn't make him want to strangle a piglet just so the squealing would drown out the humming. 

Despite his current personal mantra, it was probably in everyone's best interest that the Level 9 locker room was devoid of piglets. 

Trying not to fixate on how slowly the other was manually tying his shoe, Sasha took in a long, deep breath and held it for ten seconds before letting it back out slowly.  Despite his best efforts, he couldn't resisting muttering to the floor: "Zum fickenden Teufel, it's a simple slip knot.  It-" 

"Had a merry Christmas, o prince? ... or whatever it is boring people drink at the holidays."

Another long, slow breath in.  Hold for ten seconds.  Exhale.  Repeat the process a second and then a third time.  Good.  There.  He could get through this. 

"Clever," he said, a little too flatly for the intended sarcasm to come through effectively in his voice.  "Condescension directed at money, being quiet and German.  I would have thought that was low hanging fruit for you, but clearly I was wrong.  Does being that much of an ass come naturally or do you sit in front of a mirror and practice?"

Another long, slow breath.  He was just playing into Virgil's need for attention which was counter productive to seeing his fellow classmate disappear into some other dark corner of Level 9. 

"Can you please just fuck off?  I don't have the energy to turn the other cheek."

           "Does being that much of an ass come naturally or do you sit in front of a mirror and practice?"

Shoelaces prettily tied, Virgil sat up on the bench and leaned back against his hands to fix Sasha with an amused smile. There was a bit of a sting in those words! Something was bothering the former Ravenclaw if his initial reaction to snark was to retaliate rather than... whatever it was he usually did. Turn the other cheek, apparently.

"To turn the other cheek is a path of nonresistance..." Virgil announced with a twitch of an eyebrow - clearly in the mood to play regardless of Sasha's request not to bother him. "So you must be very low on energy indeed. Are they really laying it on you over here? Assignments and whatnot?"

The Unspeakables could get rather intense, depending on their speciality, and Virgil had been through his fair share of overnighters on level nine: assisting his seniors, doing tedious checks of long run experiments, running errands both in and out of the Ministry.

"Or," he speculated, a gleam in his sleepy eyes, "is juggling two worlds finally getting the best of you? I did wonder if it would."

"To turn the other cheek is a path of nonresistance..."

Sasha's eyes snapped wide open and he sat up straight, staring into the shadows of the open locker in front of him.  Two more long, deep, slow breaths before speaking. 

"Yes.  I know."  Two more breaths.  "I've read Orwell and King.  I'd already had six years of schooling before going to Hogwarts and I'm a pacifist."  Or, he had been, once upon a time.  Could he really claim that anymore?  Especially after his theatrics with Cohen?  Slowly, his chest deflated and he shook his head numbly.  He was low on energy; Virgil was on the nose for that one.  But, it wasn't the assignments or workload; at least that was only a small part of it. 

The last thing Sasha wanted was for Virgil to march up to Morgenthau's office and inform the man that, in his opinion, Sasha wasn't handling the demands of the job.  He needed to get himself under control.

"No, I'm fine.  I'm just ... holidays were long."  He was in desperate need of sleep replenishment potion.  "I ... haven't been sleeping well and-"

"Or, is juggling two worlds finally getting the best of you? I did wonder if it would."

That hit a little closer to the truth than Sasha was comfortable with, especially coming from Virgil.  "Get outta of my fucking head, Virgil," Sasha growled and pushed himself to his feet, quickly tugging the small flask free from his pocket and downing the contents.  If Virgil wasn't going to oblige him by buggering off, Sasha would have to take the initiative.  Empty bottle was tossed into the locker and the door slammed shut. 

             "Get outta of my fucking head, Virgil.”

His eyebrows rose, incited by a touch of surprise and intrigue whilst he watched the other wizard quickly knock back a bottle of potion before disposing of it. That was... sleeping potion? No, couldn’t be, had to be some caffeine concoction.

“I’m not in your head....” Virgil drawled, getting up with hands in pockets and approaching his peer’s locker, a curious cat. “But you’re making me feel rather appreciative of my non-magical instincts,” he shot Sasha a smile and stopped a foot away from the other blonde. “I suppose I can’t help being that good, can I?"

What was wrong with this picture? Nerdy stressed Schlawkward by himself? No. That was normal. Sasha trying to hide something, furtive, frustrated? Telling someone to fuck off? Less normal. It wasn’t, anyway, the a version of him that Virgil frequently encountered. It wasn’t Princely-Sasha of Abby Reid fame.

He nodded past him, at the locker. "What's with the apothecary aids?" Virgil did suddenly wish he could glean a few thoughts to straighten out the situation - but all he had to work from now were much blunter tools. Facial expression, body language.

"You just can't help yourself." 

Sasha cast a suspicious glance in Virgil's direction, unsure whether he could take the other at his word.  He'd never known the former Slytherin to outright lie but Virgil did like to pride himself on his sly cleverness.  Sasha wouldn't put it past the other to not outright lie but still not exactly be telling the truth. 

All which would matter far less once Sasha was able to regain his usual equilibrium after that very long holiday break.  That was all he needed: time to let his social shields to get back to 100% power.

"It's nothing for you to worry about," Sasha answered readily, perhaps a little too quickly.  Almost immediately, he regretted it.  If he weren't careful, Virgil would march straight to Morgenthau's office, speculating answers that were far worse than the reality while on the way.  Maybe a partial answer - one in context - might buy Sasha the space he desperately needed; finding himself in front of Morgenthau in his current state would be disastrous. 

"It's just a bit of pepper up potion."  It was close enough to the truth; similar functions, just different strengths.  "I don't sleep well during the holidays and I'm beat.  I just need time to get back to normal and I really don't want to say or do something I'd regret."  He didn't have the energy to cope with Virgil backing him into a corner.  "I can't deal with you and your petty griping and self-righteousness right now.  So, please.  Just.  Back off." 

He was right. Virgil couldn't help himself sometimes.

But he was incapable of doing it this particular time, and Sasha was definitely pressing on without the knowledge that the flu had somehow rendered his legilimency as useless as his wand. "It's just a bit of pepper up potion..." the other wizard lied - that obviously wasn't Pepperup, there hadn't even been the littlest cloud of a steam.

"Petty griping and self-righteousness?" Virgil laughed, eyes still on Sasha. "You've really let me get under your skin. Come on, what are you really drinking?" he dug his cigarette case out of his pocket. "There are better options than Pepperup if you're feeling shite. I can lend you a hand, even."

If it weren't for being magically incapacitated, he would have made a more direct offer. Sasha was odd but if he was having difficulties then he needed help.

"I'm sure Abby has told you." Virgil selected a cigarette and stuck it between his smug lips. "I'm like the Sandman. And all you need a good rest, right? I can put you under when -" well, if, "- I get better."

He reached into his pocket for a silver lighter, a tarnished old thing he had used back when the Trace was still on him.

[M] - for continued language

---

"You fucking self-indulgent little prick!"

Sasha couldn't remember the last time his voice had lifted to an actual, proper bellow like this.  As a child, he'd quickly figured out that emotional control was the key to preventing magical outbursts and an already introverted young Sasha had learned to navigate life in superficial state of emotional equilibrium. 

His own voice surprised him, adding a surge of adrenaline to the mix of frustration and sleep replacement potion that was just starting to hit his system. 

It felt awful and great at the same time and Sasha doubled down on the rush. 

"And either your a bloody narcissist or a fucking idiot if you believe this has anything to do with you!  This is not about you getting under my skin.  You're nothing more than the persistent fly I can't get away from.  I am not just some problem for you to fix - not some nameless accomplishment for you to notch onto your belt!  You don't need to pretend you give a fuck and I sure as hell don't need you rubbernecking in my head just so you can pat yourself on the back for ... for whatever reason you ..." 

The surge of adrenaline was dissipating almost as quickly as it had set in.  With the remaining dregs of artificial energy, Sasha threw up his arms.  "This has nothing to do with you, so stop trying to make it that way!" 

Like an inflatable, advertisement tube man after the blower had been shut off, Sasha deflated onto the bench, trembling slightly as he reached for his bag.  His outburst was all well and good, except he knew it hadn't been entirely true.  Virgil was responsible for a small part; the sting of rejection from what Sasha had thought was a friendship was only compounding the resentment. 

Hands still shaking and pointedly averting his gaze from Virgil, Sasha started fishing desperately through the pockets of his bag.  When he spoke, his voice shook - completely devoid of the previous blustering.  "Look - you made it perfectly clear what you think of me and that's fine.  Whatever.  But ... right now.  I need people around me I can trust.  So, please.  Just -"  What he'd said hadn't made a difference before, why was Sasha torturing himself by pretending it would now?

"Fuck it, I don't care anymore.  You win.  I'm just your source of entertainment, so gawk all you want."

             "You fucking self-indulgent little prick!"

On instinct, he stepped back. Up until this moment Virgil had assumed that their conversation was one of the many usual exchanges - barbed and prickly, with a flash of curiosity. He had clearly been wrong. Sasha was actually yelling. Proper angry. What the bloody hell did he say to trigger this?

Virgil didn't try to interrupt at any point. He knew that the best thing to do was wait until Sasha had his say; and it wasn't like  he was Moira, he wasn't going to get violent. Just... frustrated. Very, very frustrated. "Look - you made it perfectly clear what you think of me and that's fine.  Whatever.  But ..."

What? What was he talking about now?

"I'm confused." Virgil finally broke the brief pause, waiting a beat after the other wizard last spoke. "I mean... I didn't think this -" he gestured at Sasha in general, the mess he was, "- actually has anything to do with me. I'm only asking if you want my help. That's sort of what I do when I like people."

He sat down on the bench, careful to keep a little distance from Sasha. His tone wasn't defensive. Virgil was rather used to people blowing up at him so he knew it wasn't helpful to respond on that note.

"I don't remember making it perfectly clear what I think of you," he couldn't help parodying a slight German accent. "Do you... do you think I don't like you, or something?" The words felt bizarre, something children say to each other. "If you're actually suffering, I wouldn't just stare and laugh, you know."

Surely Sasha knew that? Or maybe not? Oh, he really did wish he had his Legilimency back now!!

"Just nabbing a win for getting under my skin?"

Sasha shook his head, dismissively, finally finding the small bottle of migraine-formula excedrin from the bottom of his bag.  He didn't know how the muggle medicine that combined anti-inflammatories and caffeine interacted with the sleep replacement potion and he had no idea what that might actually do to him.  All he knew was that, on particularly bad days, the combined effects were undeniable. 

Since it was clear Virgil wasn't going anywhere until he'd satiated whatever morbid curiosity Sasha's current state stoked, the extra oomph was necessary. 

"You never seemed the type to consider yourself friends with people you think are a joke." Sasha countered, perhaps a little too quickly after swallowing down the headache medicine.  This really wasn't a conversation he needed to be having right now; he'd been under the impression he'd been among Virgil's friends.  Their last conversation, when Sasha had been considering the prospect of joining Level 9, had illustrated how much of a fool Sasha had been. 

"Is that what witches and wizards do in lieu of reality television?"  Which was just one more thing added to his current state.  One more thing he just couldn't handle right now.  No, he didn't think Virgil would stare and laugh; feign interest and laugh in the company of others behind one's back seemed a more likely scenario. 

Sasha took a long slow breath and slowly shook his head.  "Like I said, I just ... I'm exhausted.  I just need to catch my breath."

Virgil's expression darkened for just a moment, experiencing the visceral but commonplace dissonance of hearing himself described very differently from how he felt. It came as a surprise. Of course he knew that many of his schoolmates found him loathsome and not a little sharp-tongued... but Sasha always seemed to roll with the verbal punches, self-aware. Equal to the task.

Only, not equal, because Virgil sometimes cheated when he sparred with words.

           "Like I said, I just ... I'm exhausted.  I just need to catch my breath."

"How long have you been exhausted?" he asked almost without thinking, and continued with an awkward glance at his pill-popping peer. "I understand you think I'm an arse but I don't truly think you're a joke and--" the young wizard grimaced slightly, "-- and I do count you as amongst my friends."

It didn't come naturally to him, saying that to someone with whom he didn't have a flowery friendship. That sort of thing was so much easier with other friends. Abby, Nemo, Ari. He found it much harder with Nick or Sasha, or Moira for that matter. His tongue had a mind of its own.

Virgil crossed his legs and fiddled with the long sleeves of his sweater. Thinking. "I'm sorry if I get under your skin. Don't always mean to," he fixed the other boy with a serious look, "and I'm trying to be... better." A little smile tugged at his lips.

"So if I'm not the one driving you to muggle and wizarding medicines alike, may I ask who is?"

Finally, Sasha looked up from his folded hands and at the young man sitting next to him.  "So, were you lying when you said you didn't think much of me?"  He'd accepted that state of affairs back at Hogwarts; he'd hoped that had changed since leaving school but Virgil's mixed messages made it hard to figure out where Sasha stood. 

"I don't think you're an arse.  I knew you'd been trying and I'd hoped ... when you said what you thought, I felt like an idiot."  And, what was he supposed to think now?  Did he even have the energy to tell the difference?

For the moment, he really didn't. 

After hesitating another moment, Sasha shrugged his shoulders.  "I've struggled with sleep for years but I'm used to it.  It's not usually a problem. But, it hasn't been an easy holiday.  Month.  Whatever."  It had simply compounded an already existing challenge.  He just needed to get through the next week and things could go back to normal.

"It's no one person or thing," he tried to explain.  "It's not even anything I regret or would have changed.  Just finding a way to have everything together - worrying.  Dreading the what ifs.  And, then, acting like I'm confident everything's in control for Abby.  And, Moira.  And, Feliks and Anton.  On top of just the background ... just wanting to run away from all the voices and ghosts and having to just put that to the side every morning.  I just can't-"

He leaned over again and averted his gaze to the floor, picking anxiously at his fingernail.  "At the end of the day, I go home to and try to talk to the one family member I have left.  But, she doesn't remember who I am and I can't even tell if she knows I'm there."

He took a slow, shaky breath.  "I'm sorry.  Like I said, I just need a break."

            "So, were you lying when you said you didn't think much of me?"

Lying? He couldn't even recollect the circumstance of that statement, though he assumed it to be amongst the words exchanged when Sasha was mulling over joining level nine. It did sound like something he would say, carelessly. Virgil hesitated and then shrugged. "I must have been. I suppose it's force of habit, considering we weren't close at Hogwarts."

Slytherin had been the air he breathed. He didn't subscribe to purist beliefs but his life was intensely magical, both in the regular sense and in the sense of his personal abilities. Bonding with Sasha over muggle things hadn't been a social option, as much as he liked muggle London.

As the other wizard explained his difficulties over the past few months, he could begin to understand why Sasha had snapped at him. "I'm sorry.  Like I said, I just need a break."

Virgil took another drag, tapping his cigarette as he shot him an incredulous look. "Break? You need a change in lifestyle. You don't have to be strong and confident for everyone, you know that right?" Smoke escaped him and clouded his face in the pause that followed. He thought about his own hurts, briefly.

"It's not healthy." Virgil looked down at the cigarette, the burning ember within. "Share the pain, talk about the pain, the ghosts, whatever it is. People will understand. Your real friends will."