Lunch hour.


Virgil was taking his day off from level nine, as ordered by the department head last night. He wasn't happy about it but he was relieved not to have to see Yavin today - maybe what they needed was some time away from each other. Maybe he needed to stop getting into so much trouble and running to the older wizard when things got too real. Either way, he was going to take it easy for a while (or at least for today).

Unfortunately, he chose the wrong time to pop into the Cauldron for lunch. The floor was packed.

Wixes crowded at the bar for their lunchtime liquors and beers, tables were spread with plates of steaming hot food, and the pub was truly alive. Something softened in his heart to see it; after all, it hadn't even been re-opened for a year since Guy Fawkes in '10. Wizarding society had rushed to show their lasting support and this was evidence of it.

The bar witch obliged him with a sinfully Irish latte, and he made his order of food before hunting about for a table. Most of them were occupied by groups but-- ah, there. It took Virgil a second to recognise the witch at it, on account of how little they socialised, but that was most certainly Moira McBoid.

The most boring witch in the entire world. He dropped into the booth where she was sat, setting down his drink with a facetious smile in her direction. "Hello, dining alone today?" Virgil waved towards the bar to let them know where he'd settled, and then he took out his cigarette case. "Thought you'd be busy - I forget. What was it? Babysitting nifflers?"

A week had passed since Moira’s magic-less existence began. The first few days had passed in a blur, thanks to the raging fever, but time resumed normally afterwards. A lingering congestion lasting only until the end of the week. Now the witch was no longer contagious to other wixes but her boss expressed concern in his letter. He wouldn’t let her return until the following week, just to be on the safe side for both animals and workers.

Suddenly not having her days packed full with work she found herself growing increasingly bored. Duncan (when he wasn’t travelling) and her dad still did the majority of work on the farm, leaving her with very little to do. Aside from her morning runs her only other pastimes included drawing, studying, and general reading. They could only hold her attention for so long, though.

When Virgil Carstairs invited himself to her booth Moira raised no objections. The interaction with her former schoolmate might result in a rather miserable lunch but at least it was something different. “Virgil,” came her answering reply, ignoring his first question. Anyone with eyes could see she was alone.

The second question she didn’t answer either. She didn’t see a point in bothering to correct him on her job. Besides, that smile was not to be trusted. Finishing a bite of food Moira shrugged one shoulder, “Forced vacation.

Needed a break from the Ministry?” She asked, regarding his lunch outing. There was no need to be completely rude. Moira wondered if he actually had the day off like Fauna[1] had been during November.

1.	Lunch Hour Retreat

Oh good, he thought as he gleaned a few lines from the witch's head. Had to - Moira never said anything interesting so sometimes you needed to take a few liberties. It was justified. She was down with the magical measles, meaning she wouldn't go around hexing people for telling her the truth. Virgil picked out a cigarette from his case and lit it while she spoke.

            "Needed a break from the Ministry?"

"Working the weekend instead," he shrugged, answering with a cloud of smoke between them. "So what's going on with you and Fig?" Virgil brought up the only strange thing he knew about Moira besides the fact that she turned into a wolf every so often. "I thought you were gone on Shlawkward? Suppose they're both a bit awkward. At least we know you have a type, now."

They would make a cute couple. "Not quite princess and prince. More handmaid and jester, really," Virgil mused, mumbling with the cigarette between his lips.

Moira wondered if having such a flexible work schedule would be tiring. It didn't last long, however, when he brought up another subject.

Figaro’s name momentarily brought up thoughts of three headed snakes, interrogations, and a snarling werewolf close enough to touch instead. Moira quickly slammed shut the contents of that book. She had thought over everything more than enough during December. Now it was done and over.

When Virgil mentioned her having a type for awkward guys and being in love with Sasha Moira merely gave a slight shake of her head and took a drink of water. Sure, whatever he wanted to think. At least his remarks on her being with Fig wasn’t as bad as Bagnold’s sock on the door comment despite her sleeping on the couch.

She'd almost gotten used to everyone assuming they were an item.

Setting the glass back on the table Moira glanced more fully back to him, “Nothing’s going on. We’re not on speaking terms right now.”

He tilted his head to the side, sipping on the spiked latte as strange images conveyed themselves from Moira's head - things he would have thought to find in a mind like Fauna Blake instead. Apparently the McBoids had a habit of getting involved in dangerous situations; but again, nothing interesting suggested itself to him. Even the former Hufflepuff seemed to turn away from her own thoughts. Whatever. Moira wouldn't even know what to do if an adventure landed right in her lap.

She'd probably say it was too risky for her taste and go home to drink a cup of tepid tea.

            “Nothing’s going on. We’re not on speaking terms right now.”

So she wasn't gone over Sasha? No, couldn't be. Maybe she was but didn't want to acknowledge it. He was usually right about these things. "Yeah?" Virgil raised an eyebrow, nodding up at a barwitch who stopped by their table to deposit a plate of grilled vegetables and buttered rice. "Whatever new year's was, that didn't look like nothing to me."

Neither was not-being-on-talking-terms. Something needed to have happened for people not to talk to each other. He picked up his fork, pushing around some of the asparagus and carrots while the cigarette burnt away in his other hand.

"What was it then? Almasy said you're a wolf animagus, right?" he smirked, imagining the mild witch as one. "Did you go into heat? Poor Fig. Or is that cats I'm thinking of? Do wolves even go into heat?"

Weren't they always in heat? Lucky Fig, then.

Virgil wasn't wrong. What happened certainly was something. New Year's had been the result of leftover hurt and anger, for both of them. And it had been triggered by that damned awful truth drink. Which also led to Almasy opening her mouth about her animagus form.

Fortunately, her tablemate continued on as he normally did, choosing a different route to follow. It was the 'poor Fig' portion that triggered the amused flash in her eyes and the hint of a smirk. Sellaphix had barely been able to handle seeing her as a wolf up close and personal.

"That's not it. I'm under orders to not discuss what happened, so that’s all you’re getting on the matter." Working at the Ministry, in Mysteries no less, Virgil should be able to appreciate that much.

Moira took a bite of food, considering. "I haven't remained a wolf long enough to test the theory of going into heat. My body still functions as that of a regular witch. Though, I imagine it would make Almasy's life more difficult if it were otherwise."

Auror training was filled with its own problems, especially with what she had heard about their Head Auror Pratt. If the mood swings of a cat in heat were added to the mix that would likely end in disaster. Not that she thought her former classmate cared about any of these speculations.

Oh, so it was a secret was it? Not really much of a secret to him on account on her thinking things so clearly but he shrugged, letting it go. Bit like shooting carp in a bucket. Up until his vision earlier this month, Virgil had never been particularly interested in all things werewolf or wolf. He couldn't fit Moira (yet) into the *really* bad things he knew about December and the last full moon. Was she running around as a wolf? One way to survive a dangerous moon.

            "I haven't remained a wolf long enough to test the theory...imagine it would make Almasy's life more difficult if it were otherwise."

He snorted, closing his mouth around a bite of rice and vegetables. That's right. Almasy was a cat animagus. She had been cousin Alex's best friend at school so he'd known then too. "This is Raine we're talking about her," he swallowed with a shake of his head. "I'm sure she would find a way to make everyone else's life difficult if she was going into heat every now and then."

Virgil liked her but he liked her from a distance. If you got too close you might get burnt - or trampled underfoot. He made a thoughtful sound, looking at Moira properly. His eyes seemed to flicker into wakefulness rather then their usual sleepy stupor.

"I didn't know you were catty about Almasy though," the wizard pushed around some of his food, smiling a little. "Is it because she hexed Fig's balls? I guess that would put a damper on things in the bedroom."

Going into heat every once in a while would have made anyone's life more difficult for them and everyone else around. Especially if they were forces of nature like Almasy tended to be. If they did, would other wix be subconsciously receptive to the pheromones or would they be completely oblivious?

"Probably," Moira agreed before taking another bite of food. Her appetite had returned after barely eating anything for a few days with a vengeance before settling back to normal. Now if only she could keep doing the same amount of work she was used to.

Moira glanced up at his next remark, "I'm not. Just an observation." Figaro had probably deserved that hex. Moira felt no sympathy for his past plight and he was able to laugh about it now like he did everything. Almost everything.

"I know her about as well as I know you." Which meant not very well at all except for what she'd seen and heard during their time at school. Virgil could be an ass but Abby considered him a friend. That gave him some redemption but it was difficult not to adore the bright and optimistic squib.

The bedroom comment she left unanswered, again. Sometime in the past month Moira found herself becoming rather apathetic when it came to her ex-friend. If people wanted to think the two of them had a sex life they could. She couldn't be bothered to care.

"How are things going with Anton then? Still spicy or did you get bored?"

Oh, Merlin. Was there anyone in the world as literal-minded as Moira? Virgil finished his latte in a couple of gulps and neatly put his cigarette out in its dregs. Now he remembered why they never got along. It was like trying to hold a conversation with a wall. How did Abby manage it? What did they even talk about, these two witches so different from one another? Sasha, he could understand. Sasha had a way with courtesy and decorum, and had probably suffered worse people than Moira.

           "How are things going with Anton then? Still spicy or did you get bored?"

He grinned, meeting her in the eye with a look of mock incredulity. "Spicy? Didn't realise you fantasised about us in your spare time." Virgil didn't think that kissing or hugging was especially spicy - unless Moira had been peeking into their bedroom activities. "We're alright. He's a muggle, you know, so I suppose it's not truly meant to last, though I'm sure some people can make it work."

Wasn't difficult to imagine her settling down with one. Virgil himself had an understanding with Anton: it was casual. Wonderful but casual. He did sometimes doodle the other boy's name in the margins of his journal, fond of it. Of saying it.

Between a couple of mouthfuls of buttery rice, he considered Moira across the table. She could say what she liked, she was definitely a little catty. Not in a dangerous way...more the pity.

"Do you always take it lying down?" Virgil pointed at her with his fork, genuinely curious. "I thought being around Unicorn Girl might have had a positive effect but you're still rather passive. Are you afraid you can't cross wits, or is it more you can't hex me this time if I say something you don't like?"

Muggles finding their way into a wixes life wasn’t commonplace but certainly not unheard of. She imagined it must be hard living in a world you couldn’t touch. Then there were the muggleborn. Her mum had taken to it as naturally as anyone but her recently discovered uncle’s ex-wife had ended up leaving all things magic behind. That was something she couldn’t imagine.

Still, good for Virgil on having a fun, short term relationship with. Even if they were practically humping each other by the end of the party.

                                              “...or is it more you can't hex me this time if I say something you don't like?”

Moira gave him a curious glance and finished off what was left of her food. She had hexed him for sounding like a broken record, repeating the same insult in a myriad of ways. Had it all been just him trying to get a rise out of her then? The witch wasn’t proud of what she’d done but he had certainly gotten a reaction. She chuckled.

However, Virgil’s question was an honest one and deserved an honest answer. She took a drink of water to chase down the food before giving it. “I suppose it’s both a lack of practice and I don’t see much point? Generally speaking people’s opinions are just that. If they don’t like me that’s their business.” Present company included.

He watched her as she answered, listening more to her mind than to her words while he finished the last off his vegetables. Moira had been high on gillyweed when she hexed him - of course, gillyweed didn't make people violent, but maybe she needed the release. If that chuckle was any indication, she seemed to actually enjoy recollecting the hex so it was good to know she wasn't hurt by his teasing. If she were, he would have had to stop. And Virgil so hated to stop.

            "I suppose it’s both a lack of practice...people’s opinions are just that. If they don’t like me that’s their business.”

"Which begs the question: do I not like you?" he picked up his paper napkin delicately, dabbing at his smirking mouth. "I suppose I don't. But thanks for letting me dock at your table," Virgil gestured at the booth with a shrug. "You never seem to see the point in anything interesting, Moira. You're lucky to have friends like Abby, though."

The blond wizard rose as he dusted off a few stray grains of rice. "I won't inconvenience your lunch any further."

Virgil’s announcement came as no surprise. She didn’t much care for Virgil either, though it was nice to know they could at least be civil. It was more than she could say for everyone.

Like beauty, interest was in the eye of the beholder. If everyone had the same interests people certainly wouldn’t be as great for observation and killing time.

Moira’s gaze tracked Virgil’s movements as he rose from the table, preparing to leave and bringing an end to whatever that had been.

“Not an inconvenience. Thanks for the distraction.” It had helped make part of her day move faster. Now to figure out what to do with the rest of it.



Finished