First thing that morning, Fauna had handed a Healer's note to her superiors and let them know she had the No-Magic Flu. After waving her wand uselessly in demonstration and convincing them that it wasn't contagious at this stage, they'd sent her to her desk to get caught up after her time off.

The loss of magic felt unsettling, especially in such a magical place. While she was visiting muggle family, she didn't miss it, but here, it felt like searching her pockets for her keys and realizing that she'd been locked out. She had felt better at home with Anton and Figaro. Anton, who had no magic himself and tried to sympathize, Figaro, who had offered his own wand and tried to sympathize.

The morning dragged on until a strange green envelope fluttered her way.[1] At first, Fauna stilled, thinking it some St. Mungo's announcement and likening it to green sparks.

Then the envelope opened its mouth and spoke. Like a Howler not a Healer. Fauna jumped out of her chair and let out a squeak. She shoved her rolling chair in its direction and threw her quill at its papery wings.

A few Aurors peeked over their cubicles at the spectacle. Fauna gripped her wand, eyes wide. She rarely ever received Howlers, but always sat in horrified, shared embarrassment whenever anyone got one.

Down in the moors where witches convene...

It sang! Virgil's voice? Singing. A violin in the background. What the hell? What. was. this? A haunted ode or an ode haunting her?

A few more Aurors popped up from their cubicles, grinning.

"Silencio!" She waved her wand at it. Nothing.

"Incendio!" She added desperately.

The only thing that caught on like fire was the laughter, rolling through the bullpen.

"Shut up over there!" Someone shouted a few aisles down.

Why have you come here Fauna Blake?

Why had she come into the office today, indeed?

Fauna stood on her chair, which wobbled, and then stepped onto her desk and tried to catch it, but it danced around her head, evading her grasp.

Finally, around the time of "when you find yourself lost in his bloodied hall," she abandoned her cube and hurried down the bloody halls of the bullpen to the safety of the women's loo. The singing Howler followed her and flopped once against the door, letting out its final note. Then she didn't know what it did next. She imagined it scuttled away to sing at her later.

She leaned her back against the door of the loo, swallowing a lump in her throat as she shook her head and laughed to herself. What had compelled Virgil to sing a song to her? Was it a challenge she'd missed at the New Year's Eve party? How was it possible to write and perform a song in such a short amount of time?

Though her face burned, Fauna regretted missing most of the words. The lyrics. She was very curious now, curious and mortified. What exactly had he said? Something about vampires and wolves and ghosts and wailing witches? How did he know that it felt so much like what she'd already seen in December, and that it hinted at the full moon yet to come?

There was only one thing to do. Fauna went to Abby's desk and borrowed one of her auto-fly memos. She sent the memo up to Virgil,[2] and left without waiting for a reply.

Inside the lift, she crossed her arms and donned her In-Trouble-Nao face as the lift descended. Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...

Nine.

Ding!

1.	A Haunted Ode
2.	Fauna's response

He hadn't expected to be called out by Fauna so soon after sending her the song he had promised[1] before Christmas.

The thing was, it had been rather fun to write and perform the whole thing. The auror-in-training didn't sound upset in her memo so he assumed she wasn't going to bite his head off - though he wasn't insensible of the fact that the song had been delivered  to level two, which wasn't the best place to receive singing letters. And how could she be mad? He'd told her he was writing one!

Virgil stood by the lifts, holding a cup of hot black coffee, and wearing a pair of sunglasses that took up a third of his pale face. They were necessary. He'd damaged his sight in an experiment and was told to wear the frames for the rest of the day if he wanted his eyes to look normal again - his pupils had gone so pale they were nearly white.

Ding!

The lift doors drew open and Virgil lifted a hand, something of a lazy wave. His brow wrinkled at the look on Fauna's face. Perhaps she was going to bite his head off after all.

"One songbird at your service..." he smiled wanly and tried to look innocent as he sipped his coffee. "I have an hour off. What's the matter Fauna Blake?"

1.	23rd December - So Tender and Mild

Fauna stepped out of the lift, finding Virgil who looked Extra Cool today in a pair of shades. What the hell! Only the Zoh was allowed to rock sunglasses at the Ministry, not Unspeakable trainees.

She made an aggravated sound in the back of her throat as she stopped in front of him and frowned at his innocent greeting. He knew exactly what was wrong! She studied his smile for any traces of a smirk, certain he was laughing at her or about to be.

"I was just laughed out of Level Two. Thanks for that," she whisper-hissed with a glance around the area, ready to glare at anyone who looked like they were listening.

"I mean," she huffed. "When I asked you if you could sing at the party, I didn't think you'd go ahead and prove it. And when I said you could maybe help me plan a prank a few weeks ago, I didn't mean you should prank me first. That's not how it's supposed to work."

Was she missing something? Something possibly important.

"And I didn't know you could play really well." Her face flushed, torn between continuing to scold him, and some musical part of her wanting to acknowledge his talent. "And how did you write a song so fast anyway, since New Year's Eve, and no one's actually written a song for me before besides, well, er-"

Not the werewolf song![1] That didn't count! She shook her head.

"And - and too late, Virgil! I don't know how you knew, but I'm already cursed!"

Had Anton told him? Fauna threw her hands in the air and rolled her eyes up at the ceiling, looking Extra Drama today.

1.	Fig wrote a song at Hogwarts to poke fun at the werewolf rumor

As they chatted, the Mysteries foyer was fairly quiet - only the odd Unspeakable cutting through to the lifts or accidentally coming out of one of the enchanted doors (only to frustratedly enter another). Virgil didn't pay attention to them. He was trying to give Fauna his full attention, watching her huff away through the dark green lenses of his world.

It was hard to tell if she was angry or pleased. "And I didn't know you could play really well," she changed tack, "And how did you write a song so fast anyway..."

"Um, thank you?" Virgil muttered over the rim of his mug, bewildered. "I think." If this was her way of saying she liked the song, he was going to have to reconsider the kind of favours he paid the witch! Why was she so flustered? That was probably a Hufflepuff thing. Hufflepuffs were 60% flustered. 30% food, 8% mumbled apologies, 2% doll eyes.

           "And - and too late, Virgil!" Fauna exclaimed, "I don't know how you knew, but I'm already cursed!"

Cursed? Oh. Oh! Sasha had mentioned that. Whatever it was he had caught at Christmas time, it was going round the Ministry now. Cases popping up here and there - once Yavin found out that it would eventually fade, they hadn't worried too much about it.

"Firstly," he held up a finger, blond eyebrows arching over the gleaming frames of his sunglasses, "I wrote it ages ago, you know, when I said I would? For the violin you found?" Virgil tried to meet her in the eye but caught himself. "And secondly, it wasn't meant as a prank, I just thought it would be rather fun. Sorry if your workmates are arseholes."

He appreciated the function of aurors. Just not always their personalities, if Solomon was anything to go by. "It didn't have anything to do with your... condition." Virgil added, crossing an arm over his narrow chest as he looked her up and down. "How long has it been? I had a run of it last month."

The violin, he said. Fauna had returned the violin and Virgil had acted really dazed and dorky about it, and she knew he'd said something about doing her favor - she remembered that. She also remembered scolding him for the chocolate prank that had afflicted her months ago. But when had he...?

Oh. He'd joked about writing her a song. She'd thought it was a joke! She'd laughed in his face.

"Oh."

The annoyance faded from her tone as realization set in. Sheepishness quickly followed, and Fauna uncrossed her arms and glanced around the quiet foyer.

"Oh shit!" Her eyes widened. "I mean, I didn't think you were," she gestured limply. Serious!

"So you..." she processed. "Wrote me a song."

That was rather nice! No, it wasn't nice!

"And instead of owling it to me at home you owled it to my workplace, where everyone is an arsehole?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. She raised her eyebrows in disbelief, her gaze steadily searching his face. Those glasses hid a lot. A third of his face. Her brow furrowed and she tilted her chin up to try to see over the rims. No such luck. He couldn't have known that they were all arseholes, but still! What about the subject matter? The werewolves, the vampires, the creepy castle and the moors! Well, fine! She'd worry about this later. She had a condition/curse/pressing issue now. At least he was acknowledging it, though how he knew that she had it, she still wasn't sure.

"That's why I, well, er," she rubbed at the back of her neck and glanced away. "Why I wanted to talk to you. After I just scolded you. If you have time."

He probably wanted to do anything else with his hour off.

"I just realized I had it yesterday, after I'd been sick at my mum's over the holidays," she paused. "I uh, freaked out a little, you know?"

Understatement.

             "And instead... you owled it to my workplace, where everyone is an arsehole?"

He broke into a grin, which took years off his face and distracted from its natural sulkiness. A peek into Fauna's mind helped that along, too. And he was rather impressed she hadn't asked about the shades yet.

"An artist needs an audience, even if they're arseholes..." Virgil admitted as he sipped his coffee and checked his watch - there was plenty of time to talk but he didn't fancy doing it all here in the foyer. "Listen, do you want to sit down for this? I think we have a visitor's room, it's where we stuck everyone's relatives during the exorcisms."

Luckily for him - and every other trainee still getting used to nine's confidentiality clauses - level two was in the know about their involvement in the pentral situation. He looked over his shoulder, just as a door materialised alongside the usual ones set between the blue-fire torches.

"There we are," his gaze flicked back to Fauna, self-satisfied, and he offered an arm. "Come on. I want to hear about what constitutes freaking out for an auror-in-training."

The small room he led her into looked more like it belonged in a house than the Ministry of Magic. Its walls were the same glossy black as the rest of nine but someone had furnished the place with navy damask sofa sets and landscape paintings of historical locations such as Stonehenge.

A little cauldron was bubbling away on the blue-fire in a small fireplace; it made everything smell like sweet turmeric and chocolate. Virgil shut the door behind them. "How is the magic free life treating you so far?"

The room where they stuck everyone's relatives! How was she supposed to know when Virgil was serious when he could be so irreverent about most things?

He was willing to talk about the curse, at least, and he hadn't laughed at her yet, though she eyed his grin with suspicion.

"Yeah, thanks," she grumbled at his offer of the visitor's room, blinking in surprise when a door appeared between two torches on the wall. Virgil, reunited with his magic, looked entirely too pleased about its sudden appearance.

"Um." She glanced at his outstretched arm, and then gently rested her hand above the crook of his elbow as they moved into the visiting room. Just as shyly, her hand fell away once they were inside.

She shook her head. She'd freaked out not as an Auror trainee, but as a person with a lot of feelings. A Hufflepuff. This Hufflepuff was surprised to find them in a more comfortable living room setting, complete with paintings on the walls and that same odd blue fire in the fireplace. Fauna thought she caught a whiff of chocolate, and her gaze strayed to the cauldron.

She remained standing, turning with a scoff at his question.

"It's great! I feel like an arsehole," she said, gesturing to herself, her eyebrows furrowing in earnest. "One day without magic and I feel like I'm going mad. And then I think about my family full of muggles. Well-" mostly muggles, she'd found out yesterday. "And I think about Anton who's surrounded by it now, and Abby who's never had it." She didn't need to say anything more there. Fauna walked around the room a bit, pausing in front of the painting of Stonehenge.

"And here I am, complaining about magical brick walls and, oh, I don't know, not being able to do my job."

She sucked in a breath.

"But it's dangerous. There are shitty people out there, and I'd like to kick their arses properly."

Fauna's voice fell to a murmur, glancing over her shoulder at him, both daring him to disagree and realizing she was going on and on.

Comfortable in the space, he perched himself on one of the couch arms like a bespectacled monkey. Ever since the vampire incident... and the death chamber incident... and the meteorite incident... well, ever since December, Yavin had made it clear that Virgil was to take it easy on nine. Which was dull. He was more than happy to listen to Fauna instead of helping someone mop up the brain room or whatever it was.

           "It's great! I feel like an arsehole," she began and he snorted into his coffee.

The rest of her proclamation was less amusing, however, and more genuinely troubled. Virgil cradled his mug in both hands and let her talk - he owed her that much at least, after sending the song to level two. When she did finish, doll eyes sliding back to him, he propped his sunglasses on his head and rubbed his face tiredly.

"You will kick their arses properly. In like, one week or a month or something," he replaced the shades over his eyes, "we haven't figured out why it's shorter for some of us. So don't worry about that part. You'll get it back."

As a result of having tests run on him after Christmas, he knew some things about the illness. It was nice to be able to relay solid information to Fauna - a pinch of hope, something to hold on to.

"I know it's strange to think about how many people around you don't have magic but it's not your fault for being so used to it, is it?" Virgil shrugged, thinking about his own experience. "People like Abby and Anton, I've always thought they were simply... differently abled."

He paused, looking into his drink for a second. Virgil loved Abby to bits and he never really thought much of accommodating her lack of magic because he had a little brother. You got used to helping someone who couldn't use their wands.

"I didn't realise how hard it is for them..." he glanced up, smiling a little. "Made me think about the statute of secrecy, actually. Perhaps that's why we have it, so we won't have to alter either of the worlds to fit in the other."

Or risk obliteration of either society in the process, ta. Virgil was sure that everyone questioned the statute at least once in their lives, though.

More so than his reassurance, which was kind, she was distracted from her own unhappiness as Virgil removed his glasses for a moment and rubbed his hand over his face. Fauna frowned. Had something happened to his eyes? The light reflected oddly in his gaze, or perhaps it was a trick of the blue flames flickering under the cauldron nearby.

Slowly, Fauna took a seat on the opposite arm rest of the couch.

No, of course it wasn't her fault, but she certainly took her magical abilities for granted and forgot to consider how those with different abilities might feel. She'd grown up as the weird kid and had fully embraced her magical side. Without it, she felt a little lost.

Her smile was slight and a touch distracted, having not expected him to bring up the statute. For Virgil, who came from magic and rarely ventured outside of the wizarding world (that she knew of), losing magic for a week or two would be an inconvenience at best. Yet he was smiling, relaxed and philosophical. It gave her the impression that he'd only skimmed the surface issues, or had delved deeper and come up for air again seemingly unchanged.

Fauna twisted her mouth to the side and looked up and away, thinking.

"Well, yeah, maybe. It seems more confusing than it ought to be on both sides. Wixes have magic that muggles or, er, muggle relatives are baffled by. Muggles have technology that is, to most wixes, as baffling. Whenever you cross from one world to the next, you're faced with barriers and things you can't do. And it's very," she hesitated. "Hard to live fully in both worlds."

At least, it had always been hard for her, so much so that she didn't even try. Her family kept her rooted in the muggle world, and it was still her world, in a sense, because she'd grown up in it and it had shaped her as muggleborn, but every year that she lived in the magical world made her feel more and more distant from her younger self. Fauna supposed that's what people wanted, for muggleborns like her to acclimate, but at what expense?

She sometimes wondered how Sasha handled it as well as he did.

"I don't really know if that's-"

Ideal? Couldn't they do better? Muggles couldn't alter their world when they didn't know about magic, so it was up to the magical folks to make things easier.

"I think it would be better if we accommodated more of muggle culture without, you know, revealing our secrets," she lifted her shoulder, then cleared her throat, unsure if he'd been looking for a discussion.

            "Hard to live fully in both worlds."

That was, he guessed, the crux of the problem for wixes like Fauna. Nick, too. They were both muggleborns - they lived their formative years practically as muggles. Virgil stuck out his lip thoughtfully as he watched his visitor think, skimming her thoughts with a light hand. He couldn't help it, how curious he felt.

What was it like? To grow up with muggle values and expectations, muggle conveniences and inconveniences? To love muggles, to once believe their society was all that existed? As much as he knew about muggle London, he navigated the world chiefly as a wizard.

"I... don't disagree," Virgil nodded slowly at her suggestion. "I mean, there's more of them than us. There are more muggle spaces than wizarding ones, we have the logical and practical incentive to understand their way of life..." he trailed off and tapped his knee, hesitant.

There were things about wizarding families that he knew muggleborns didn't always get. Like how Nick was repulsed by Virgil's Legilimency. It was hard to sense what he could or couldn't say around them.

And only one way to know for sure. "It isn't easy. We barely accommodate wizarding cultures that aren't white or westernised," he drank the last of his coffee and set the mug down on a side table before turning back to Fauna with raised eyebrows. "And there's a lot of fear surrounding muggle culture, especially in pureblood families. We're told stories, by parents and grandparents."

That was, after all, why it was easy for purist agendas to recruit supporters. Fear mongering often worked.

"It's funny." Virgil examined his painted fingernails, frowning at them slightly as if though they were personally responsible for this situation. "The statute keeps us a secret from them but we've kept them a secret from ourselves, too, without anyone asking us to. Edgar - my father - says he thinks it's because we can't not covet what we don't have."

He pulled a face at Fauna, rubbing the back of his head. "I do think it's worth trying, regardless."

Fauna raised her eyebrows, and gave a nod after a moment. Non-western cultures were another blind-spot for her. Though she hadn't expected Virgil to engage in conversation so thoughtfully, it was a nice surprise. Unlike some at the Ministry, he didn't express bafflement or indifference when faced with experiences that were different from his own.

Her expression softened. Worth trying, indeed!

"Your father sounds like a smart bloke. I hadn't thought about that - how much fear and envy influence us."

Fear, especially! She bit her lip. It usually took her some time to find the right words, but once her thoughts formed they grew stronger as she voiced them.

"Muggles are told terrible stories about witches - or who they think are witches, too. So there's a lot of fear there, er, subconsciously, due to lack of knowledge and understanding. I guess that's the key thing, you know? Being willing to educate ourselves."

She raised her eyebrows hopefully. In time, maybe they could tell better stories. If it started with wixes. If they were all brave enough.

"Um, so," she pressed her mouth together into a sheepish smile, straightening her posture. What had they been talking about earlier? She'd just been hoping to get Virgil's perspective as someone who had made it past the flu, but he seemed absolutely certain she'd get her magic back.

"Is the Ministry looking into this flu thing? I've been out of the loop."

Just for a week or two, but it felt like ages.

            "I guess that's the key thing, you know? Being willing to educate ourselves."

He smiled, though there was a kind of guiltiness to it. Virgil realised that he had rambled a bit - and he didn't even have the excuse of being 'cursed', as it was, just a longstanding interest in how magical societies co-existed with muggle ones. Fauna was a hopeful person and it was nice to speak to someone who strived for social betterment. Even if he didn't necessarily feel the same way.

In his eyes, the barrier between worlds would remain solid regardless of attempts on a personal level.

"Mysteries is running our own tests," he answered her, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "I think St. Mungo's is too but I don't know what they're doing specifically. So far it hasn't resulted in anything too extreme."

Awful accidents, yes, but nobody had yet to pass from the illness itself. They had their suspicions about the meteorite being responsible - the timing couldn't have been coincidence - but that information was only for nine. He eyed Fauna curiously. She seemed healthy.

"What are your other symptoms?" Virgil reached into his pocket for his cigarette case, hoping nobody walked in on them. "I had a bit of a fever and sore throat. Lost my magic around the time we had to put on A Christmas Carol."

Level Nine was running their own tests, which made sense, considering the strangeness of the issue. She remembered then that Anton had mentioned Level Nine specifically, though she couldn't quite remember how he'd phrased it.

Fauna blinked at the cigarette and shrugged a shoulder.

"Grossness," she answered, widening her eyes. "More than a bit. Fever, coughing, spewing germs, grossness. Not right now," she added hastily. "I mean, that's all passed. But around Christmas I started feeling sick and I thought that was all it was. So I just stayed at my mum's place until I felt better. I came back to my flat around New Year's." Her brow furrowed. "The no-magic problem happened yesterday, I think. Or the night before, and I'd just blamed it on drunk-casting."

She made a slight face. She was still a bit worried that she'd gotten other people sick, but she had other concerns on her mind.

"I was at St. Mungo's yesterday and they said I shouldn't be contagious anymore, at least," she smiled slightly, in case he thought he might get sick again.

"How did the carol go? Was it a pain to run it without magic?"

Teenagers, you know! The younger ones revolted at the first sign of weakness.

Grossness was rather accurate, he thought, snorting as he stuck a cigarette between his lips. It sounded like Fauna's case was standard... perhaps a bit longer lasting than his own but that varied from person-to-person. Virgil drew his wand to light up and smiled at Fauna over the flame. She was so concerned.

            "How did the carol go? Was it a pain to run it without magic?"

"It went alright," he spoke in a cloud of smoke, thinking of the odd mix of actors. "Crew had to cast most of the charms, and my voice sounded appropriately gritty to be Scrooge. Did sort of collapse into bed, after." Virgil's smile turned sheepish.

Edgar had quarantined him in Adelaide's old bedroom, in the attic, all Christmas. It was awfully dull but he wasn't going to complain to Fauna. He didn't want to make her feel anymore frustrated than she already was. Better to take her mind off the illness. Merlin knew distractions had helped him anyway.

"So did anyone like my ode to you?" Virgil raised an eyebrow, playfully interrogative. "Maybe I expected too much from aurors. I should have sung a sea shanty."

Fauna nodded, amusement flickering over her face as she imagined impish Virgil as Scrooge. Had he worn age-illusion charms, walked with a hunch, shaken his cane at other cast members? She couldn't quite picture it, and was a little sorry she'd missed it. She knew he could sing, definitely.

"Um," she emphasized with wide eyes, "everyone loved it, Virgil," she scoffed. "Everyone had a fun time watching me clamber up on my desk trying to grab at the envelope after I'd failed to shoot it down with magic. So," she gestured limply. "Please don't send them a sea shanty," her brow furrowed. "They'll just - I mean - it's ok if you send them one telling them to get their work done. Don't leave your files on Fauna's desk just because she has the measles!" She sing-songed very slightly.

Fauna chuckled and looked to the side. The curse of being easily embarrassed! Happy - what day was it. Happy Monday!

"Did you, er, happen to save a copy of the lyrics?" She wondered with faux innocence, though she dreaded to think which Auror had snagged the letter after she'd fled the premises. "I'll need them as evidence if anything comes true."

He was a seer, right?

She smiled at her lame joke and wrinkled her nose.