Johann Storm had a great fondness for first thing in the morning at the Ministry. It was, perhaps, the most fascinating time of day, especially if you had a habit of leaning up against the tiles and watching the traffic, as he did.

The highly polished, dark wood floor was a mass of footsteps, intermingled with regular pops and cracks of the apparators. The left-hand guild fireplaces set into the paneled, equally shiny dark wood kept up a steady rhythm of soft whooshing. On the right, furthest from Johann, small queues formed, the expectant passengers engaging in polite smalltalk before they embarked.

There was Sweep, arriving by Floo of course, bang on time. Striding away from the golden gate lifts was Hopwood, flanked by other taskforce minors, issuing instructions. Over by the visitors desk, Sidney Dervish was nodding attentively to … was it Pace from Games and Sports? He had least interest in Seven despite the constant innuendo and hilarity that was it’s Head, Flash Lockhart. Behind them, Hannah’s appalling excuse for a mother, Cindy Bombay, was busy eyeing up Pace’s toned backside.

Johann sniffed and smirked at the sight, adjusting his shoulders against the wall, his hands in his long-coat pockets, a rolled-up international newspaper in the crook of his arm. He cast his gaze in the opposite direction, and picked out Cepheus Gamp chatting with colleagues from Two and Four, altogether a pleasure to spot. But if Gamp were there… Johann’s uncanny knack at predicting, or perhaps serendipity, led his eyes to glance nearby vantage points - the Daily Prophet stand, the fireplace queues - ah, there he was.

The opportunity to engage in early-morning banter with the young unspeakable mooning at the Head of Being Division was too good to take up. Pinn would understand, even if he was meant to be intercepting her floo arrival to take her for a quiet coffee away from prying ears on Five.

“I keep telling you,” Johann purred into Virgil’s right ear, “Five is closer to Four than Nine. Tell Morgenthau to stick his job and come and work with us.” Stood right behind the much shorter unspeakable, he bumped up against Virgil just enough to ensure personal space was minimal. A boyish grin crossed his lips, “I can totally work a Gamp-gazing allowance into your contract. I’m pretty sure it’s written into his Division’s template.”

He had been waiting for his coffee at Munchies, black coat unbuttoned and smelling freshly of heather honey, when he spotted Cepheus across the atrium. The older wizard was having a morning chat with others from four - he looked lovely even from a distance. So easily recognisable, by hair and mannerism, or at least he was to Virgil. He could watch Cepheus all day. Was that creepy? A little frown crept into his expression as he turned to collect his coffee from the witch who'd called his name thrice already.

Definitely a little creepy, he thought but helplessly glanced back through the throng of arriving wixes. God. This was an inconvenient crush.

             "I keep telling you..."

The Unspeakable-in-Training nearly jumped, turning his head sharply at the  voice in his ear. His cheeks coloured warmly, pink. Johann Storm. The first memory that popped into his head was having his hair patronisingly tousled by the other man in Ceph's living room, though of course they'd seen each other since around the Ministry. That night felt like ages[1] ago, it. The other memories also felt distant.

"I don't think I'd be very productive, even if I had gazing allowance." Virgil replied with a soft snort, looking up at Johann. "Truly, I'd even forgive the likes of Penny Pickler if I thought any part of her awful personality was the result of looking at Cepheus Gamp all day."

There was a shy defensiveness underlying his sardonic words, though he pushed on like normal. In a way, Storm had brought up something Virgil was already thinking about. Changing floors. One of the reasons September felt so long ago was because his December had been insane.

At least 60% of that insanity was Mysteries. Some of it was just him. Got bit by a vampire, nearly drowned by an alien meteorite, sick without magic, sent his mind through the Death Chamber... and January wasn't looking peaceful either.

Virgil was considering a change. "What else is there to stare at on five, anyway, besides yourself?"

1.	30th Sept 2011 - When Words Take Different Shape

“…I’d even forgive the likes of Penny Pickler…”

Johann made a show of inhaling through pursed lips at this proclamation.
“No, agreed,” he murmured in low tones, “one would only hope it improved it. But some are beyond hope.”

There were only a certain number of diversity and tolerance trainings one could stand to be sent on in a year. With Gabrielle still on maternity leave, Acting Department Head, Hester Iravani had threatened Johann and his nemesis, Hamilton, with several of them - and followed through on at least one occasion. Johann had tried to blot the lost hour from his memory but he could still see polkadots.

“What else is there to stare at on five, anyway, besides yourself?” Johann glanced down at Virgil’s blushed expression, a little smirk ghosting across his lips before he answered.

“Plenty, but the beauty of Five is that we’re forever off it.” His job especially took him to all Departments once in a while, and abroad with regularity. “So it could be assisting Beings one moment, then the toned backsides of Seven, and up to the impeccable suits and ties of One before tea-time.” He blinked, gazing upon Gamp as Virgil was, appreciating the view. “Well, that was yesterday.”

Johann licked his lips, pulling his gaze away to the golden crown at shoulder-height.
“If you could ever tear yourself away from your mentor, that is,” he added smugly. “Word is, you’re quite the teacher’s pet.”

Oh yes, there was gossip besides the state of Yavin Morgenthau’s jumpers. Even unspeakables got jealous and and inferred when they’d had a few drinks. Johann loved to play dot to dot with their cryptic references. He didn’t even have to know the details to poke this particular nerve.

He couldn't help picturing Johann, whispering to him amid the morning hubbub, as a snake not very unlike Kipling's wily Kaa or a biblical equivalent. Storm had a voice that held attention comfortably and it was probably a great asset in his work... or in play, if the rapport between him and Spectre was anything to go by.

His description of life on five was certainly a glossy red apple.

            “If you could ever tear yourself away... you’re quite the teacher’s pet.”

Something in Virgil's posture stiffened and he glared at the older man, alert. Why in Merlin' s name was he bringing that up? On nine, it was easy to stifle any snide remarks: a few cutting words, a patronising remark to focus on their own business. Neither was a good approach for Johann, who was older and not an Unspeakable.

"I'm not his pet." Virgil hissed, sullen. "He's just a friend of the family. I can't help it if I'm good at what I do anyway, can I?" his mouth folded into a pout - he knew he sounded childish but there was nothing he could do to remedy that. It was the truth!

The fact that people outside Mysteries had heard of this, though, was concerning. If anything it gave him more incentive to slip out from his mentor's overwhelming shadow and into the light of other fields. Yavin wouldn't mind. Or rather, Yavin might not mind. You could never tell really.

"It's not like he's my keeper," the young wizard added, eyeing Johann as he calmed down from his initial indignity. "I can do what I like. And if I like five, I would -- um I would do it. Move." Virgil fiddled with the sleeve of his oversized coat - it betrayed the arrogant front. "Do you get to go abroad a lot? Meet lots of new people?"

There was the nerve, just where he’d predicted.
“I can’t help it if I’m good at what I do anyway, can I?” Johann bit his tongue gently between his teeth, amused. At eighteen, nineteen he’d have probably been just as arrogant. Though even the brilliant new faces to the Ministry made more errors than they ever aware. He could sympathise though, nepotism had come up with Gabrielle’s second chances over the past couple of years. As such, he could speak from experience…

“A little humility always helps.”

He didn’t want to poke holes in Virgil, not here for sport, first thing in the morning. He had just come to tease on observing Virgil’s mooning over their mutual friend. The morning after they’d all crashed at Gamp’s flat, Johann and Balfour had consoled a guilty, conflicted host when it was discovered Virgil had left at first light, after a more than awkward conversation. It was best to move on from things, make light of them, youthful inexperience again.

Virgil’s curiosity overruled his irritation at Johann’s gossip habits, not that the older wizard was about to pursue it further.

“Do you get to go abroad a lot? Meet lots of new people?”

“Pick the right role, and yes.” Johann agreed, “You can specialise in an office - Near East, Far East…” he listed off his fingertips, indicating there were others. “Work with any number of ambassadors, be an arsehole and work for trading standards. You could be assisting Two with an extradition order, or representing Britain overseas, living there if you wished. I’m hardly selling it…” His eyes had left Virgil and Cepheus and was scanning the faces around them, keeping an eye out for Pinn arriving.

“You might find it a more mundane set of secrets to keep, but at least you’d get to live a little.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “That what you’re considering?”

Humility! He bit his lip, torn between amusement and annoyance. What use was humility to him? The Unspeakables who disliked Virgil were always going to dislike his connection with Yavin and it was easier to be a target of scorn than to seek their approval. Johann didn't harp on that string for very long, though, helpfully answering his questions instead.

            "I’m hardly selling it…more mundane... at least you’d get to live a little... what you’re considering?"

Virgil would be lying if the thought of five's flexibility didn't excite him. Even if he had to start out as somebody's assistant, wouldn't it be fun to focus on those trivial things? Meet new people without space and time literally hanging over his head? Perhaps he was thinking of it with rose tinted glasses but he gave a wistful little sigh anyway.

"I think I've been living plenty as it is," he remarked dryly and rubbed the back of his head, grimacing.  "Mundane might be ideal. Brushes with death have been a little too frequent lately, between you and me."

Literally, in at least one case. Virgil noticed that Johann was distracted by some other task in spite of paying their conversation considerable attention. His gaze followed that of the older wizard, searching the crowd. "Are you looking for someone? I can help. I'm no Hufflepuff but I'm good at finding things." He was in no rush to get to nine. This was more interesting.

Other people's lives and problems often could be, when you're avoiding your own.

“Brushes with death have been a little too frequently lately, between you and me.” Despite looking above and around Virgil, Johann reacted to that with a slight nod of acknowledgement. When Ira Almasy had been around that could have described his life too. Gods he didn’t miss her. Well, maybe he did just… just a little.

“Are you looking for someone?”

“Just a colleague,” Johann replied without commitment. “Pinn. She’s been off sick with that Praecantatio thing. Right over Christmas and new year.” His gaze was still busy across the lines of faces milling in the atrium. “Going to steal her away and get her up to speed without interruptions.” He glanced down and up to Virgil, “Not just Nine that has walls with ears.”

Spying a familiar face amongst the crowd, Johann moved swiftly around Virgil, blotting the view to Gamp temporarily, and faced the younger boy.
“Keep talking,” he instructed Virgil, “Don’t make eye contact with the red-head looking my way. He’s as tedious as Penny for far more anorak reasons.” Johann looked sideways, keeping Higgins in his peripheral vision as he approached one of the nearby floo fireplaces to do his job.

It was hard to keep conversation unless someone provided it, though. He shoved his foreign newspaper into one of his coat pockets to free up his arms.
“You didn’t get it, did you?” He asked Virgil, this time making proper eye contact and interest.

Pinn, he repeated the name in his mind and quickly recalled that she was one of the witches Fournier had 'escorted' home that drunken September night. Virgil had only a vague memory of how she looked but he cast his gaze across the atrium - but before he could even begin picking out faces in the crowds, eyes still flicking to Cepheus, Johann suddenly stepped in front of him.

            "Keep talking..."

"What?" The younger wizard was confused for only a second and then quickly picked up the cue, satisfying a compulsion to please Johann. "I don't think anyone can be quite as tedious as Penny but I'm not really willing to be proved right or wrong with certainty," he chattered without thinking too hard on what he was actually saying. Storm didn't leave him hanging to float a conversation all by himself, luckily.

It was extremely strange to think of this person as being related to Professor Storm. That Storm was more tempest-in-teacup, contained, whereas this one was just a straight up chatty tempest.

"Oh, I got it last month." Virgil made a dismissive gesture, expressing his distaste for his magic-less period. "Only for a week or so though. It was a little peaceful but mostly awful. Had to stay at my parents' and they quarantined me to the attic bedroom..." he trailed off and adjusted the strap of his satchel.

Rather good that the rest of the Ministry didn't suspect nine's meteorite as being a possible source. "Long past being contagious anyway, if that's what you're worried about."

“No, not worried…” Johann uttered quickly in response. “Just curious how it felt.”

Hannah Bombay had once asked him if he actually knew how to do magic, when he’d offered her his wand when hers was temporarily misplaced. He’d spent a lot of his life surrounded by books, papers and people that his magic had specialised in those areas, and he’d done things like tying shoelaces by hand rather than trouble his wand. It had just given him time, was the best way he could think to describe it.

Nowadays, living on the estate near Edinburgh, Johann had far more use for magic. His repertoire had extended to cookery and animal husbandry amongst other domestic skills. So many charms he’d known on paper but rarely cast now at his fingertips. As a result, he suspected he’d have felt more put out to lack his magic for a week or two.

“Whether it was like having your arm chopped off,” Johann suggested. He flinched as he said it, repositioning his back again as Higgins threatened to look in his direction. The floo network expert clapped a hand to the top of the fireplace, raising a stuffed parrot in the other. ”There we go! Now mind you keep your belongings tightly with you…” This was one of the few drawbacks to watching the atrium in the morning. “Or whether the worst was the isolation.”

That thought had crossed his mind should he or Balfour have contracted it. Anticipation it might be like the time they’d got locked up in a Muggle police station for a romantic misadventure. Once again, Gamp had proven his weight in gold. He should really give Virgil more credit for adoring the Division Head. If he continued on the same trajectory he might reach Mrs Lanningham legendary status. Virgil was far more the sociable sort, he observed, than his cousin Alex, but not as omnipresent as Johann in his role.

            "Whether it was like having your arm chopped off... whether the worst was the isolation."

He tried not to laugh as Storm adjusted positions, always keeping his back to the offensive man. Merlin knew what the bloke did to merit such behaviour in an otherwise sociable figure. Virgil's good humour sharpened to something a touch more serious as he considered the question being asked. Which of the two evils was the worst of the illness?

"I'm a heavy magic user," he mused, pushing out his bottom lip in a pout, "so it was rather like losing a limb. I cook, clean, and all my work on nine is magical. That was much worse than the isolation. The isolation was nearly nice even - a holiday from all the voices in my head."

Literally, in the case of his natural Legilimency. One week of silence in almost a lifetime of static. There were rooms on Mysteries that had the same effect - rooms no mind magic could penetrate - but it wasn't the same as waking up in bed to the foreign silence. He almost missed it.

Almost. "Felt brilliant once I started getting my magic back," Virgil's sullen face gave way to a rare, genuinely cheerful smile. "Oh, that's it!" he suddenly exclaimed, spilling a few drops of coffee. "It's not just like losing a limb, it's like losing a sense of smell or hearing. When you get it back, you feel like doing everything with magic again just so you can feel yourself casting spells."

At one point he'd done nothing but cast illusion charms in his bedroom, little stars and moons hanging in the dark night. Virgil loved magic intensely. So intensely that for a moment he forgot to even think to glance at Cepheus.

"Not that I'd advise catching the bug for that reason," he added, mood buoyed by his thoughts. "You and Spectre all clear, then? One of the Unspeakables was worried lots of aurors and handlers would get it at the same time. Then we'd be overrun by dark wizards and dragons."

“Ahh,” Johann agreed, “excellent analogy.” Much better than losing a limb, even if it was in addition.

“You and Spectre all clear then?” His golden-haired companion asked, and mentioned a colleague’s worries.

“Perish the thought! Only hope the dark wizards got it just as bad. Then we’d all be muggles for a month.” He lifted his chin, considered the ceiling a moment, “that sounds like a plan Penny Pickler would hatch, come to think of it, live as common people do.” He gave Virgil a toothy grin.

“Yes, we both seemed to have stayed clear of it, and the rest of the clan. Must be the brisk Edinburgh air. Much better for you than the London melting pot. You’ll have to come up and stretch your legs come springtime. Maybe we can let you get lost on the estate with Gamp.” He clapped Virgil’s arm with a wink.

“Ah, there she is,” he straightened almost immediately, “I’d invite you along, Virgil, only it seems you’ve already got a coffee,” he moved to depart, and pointed at Virgil’s occupied hand. Behind Johann, Roberta Pinn was making steady progress through the remaining crowds of Ministry colleagues, waving to them both.

            "You’ll have to come up...springtime... get lost on the estate with Gamp."

If his mind had at all been distracted from Cepheus before, Johann brought the wizard right back into Virgil's thoughts. He felt his heart leap first, then tumble right back down to the pit of his stomach. God. Wasn't there some way to just stop feeling like this? The awfulness was beginning to outweigh its joy. Perhaps he ought to stop all the staring and mooning.

He only got as far as blushing at the older man's wink, when it was clear their little morning chat was at its end. Right. Work. That was a thing. Virgil wondered if there was an experiment on nine that could enable him to hibernate until the spring. Then he'd pop right out of the ground like a daffodil, surrounded by blue skies and crushed grass.

"I might take you up on the estate," Virgil replied with a dry smile as he glanced around the atrium and spotted a few familiar faces heading towards the lifts. "Gamp or not. Good luck catching up your friend..."

Sipping his coffee, the young wizard nodded at Johann before turning to join the next group of wixes on their way up to daily drudgery. He, of course, would be heading down. Just like at Hogwarts: the dungeons.