However heavy the answer, it lightened a load for Cepheus. As he reached his arms around his new partner he had carried stress about the possibility in his shoulders. The honest answer - or what very much felt like an honest answer for the tone - unstitched his shoulder blades.

He felt Arcturus touch his hands, and instinctively they clasped, stood close. Cepheus was about to move to rest his head again, content to share this moment of honesty, when Arcturus broke away. Surprised, Gamp stood straight, arms out to either side, a little awkward, but it lasted for less than a second, as he was drawn into a sudden, tight hold face to face.

Ceph hadn’t a chance to glance Arc’s face as it happened, instead they found their natural homes over each other’s shoulders. Arc’s arms gripped Ceph’s ribs, hands clenched against his spine. The grasp left Cepheus to place his arms over the tops of the wizard’s forearms, and his palms rested on the back of Arc’s shoulders. It was a forward physical expression he hadn’t ever expected, but wouldn’t reject.

“It’s ok-.”
“I’m grateful you exist.”

Arc uttered something Cepheus didn’t catch, whether an oath or an incoherent sound of relief, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t about to question it either. It wasn’t the right time. Now was the time of reassurance and solidarity!

“I’m here for you,” he replied, gently patting one hand on Arc’s back, “and not just because you spontaneously cook me dinners.” He hugged a little harder. “And you don’t - you don’t have to either, especially if you need me. Right?” Ah second thoughts and considerations of what he’d said. Self doubt was never far away. He shifted, twisting to kiss Arc’s cheek over the stray hair that had fallen out of the ponytail, allowing the embrace to end naturally.

“You’re not alone.” He asserted, fingertips running softly to the inside of Arc’s wrist to catch a hand. He cautiously sought to catch his eye, adding, “I don’t want you to ever feel you are.”

Someone cast a curse and break this floor from under me so I go through it and sink into the earth forever, he found himself thinking. Merlin, Cepheus was impossibly nice. He had to wonder... he had to wonder, if being upfront would have changed anything in past relationships.

But that made him feel terribly alone, and he didn't want to be - not for Ceph's sake, if not for his. The comment about spontaneous dinners made him turn red, though; he buried his face into the warm shoulder in an effort to cool down his cheeks or something on the likes of it because that didn't make any sense when he thought about it later.

Either way, as the equally spontaneous hug ended graciously, his gaze would normally be cast upon the floor, but he caught sight of the blue eyes and there was something in them that made him gaze back. So many things and more that made him want to reach out and kiss him, and yet tell him not to worry, he's got it covered, he's working it out for the sake of everyone... nah, he couldn't say that with a straight face. No more lies, he told himself, no more holding things back. They'd eventually trust each other enough for him to tell Cepheus what he'd fixed back into place and what they could work out to help him cope.

But for now.

"It'll take over half an hour to finish," he said, indicating the oven with one hand; the other held in Ceph's grasp. "I could do with a little space to breathe before we eat and I give you my appropriate label warnings, hm?" That's a terrible joke. Oh Merlin you are going to sink this relationship with bad humour if not your sheer stubbornness.

“Label warnings?” Cepheus echoed, a smile creeping into the corners of his lips, “don’t tumble dry?” He squeezed Arc’s hand once more before slipping their fingers from each other. “Sure, I’ll figure out something to drink with it, maybe. Lamb, right?” He offered Arcturus a genuine smile, relieved that the tension and the confessional was over, or at least over for now. Arc seemed to be coming through whatever had driven him to rush over and concentrate on cooking.

With a wave of Ceph’s wand, kitchen cupboards and drawers eased open, dry crockery and cutlery returning home with the aide of magic. He played it cool, pretending to focus on normality, domestics, checking if he had any wine in, when in reality he watched his boyfriend’s motions in the space out of the corner of his eye.

Nobody their age, their background, was without baggage, or rather, history. Cepheus knew and accepted this, but a small part of him did wonder now, crouched before his modest alcohol cupboard, if Arcturus had needed someone, a close friend, more urgently than he’d ever anticipated. Cepheus knew lonely, but he also had siblings - even geographically distant - and friends who made time for him. He very much hoped he could do the same for Arcturus through the course of getting to know each other better. For a partner to Cepheus very much became a close, if not closest friend.

As the dinner cooked, wizards took their space, as desired. Courtesy of the host, a leafy salad, bottle of rioja, wine glasses and place settings appeared on the end of the counter. It which doubled as a kitchen table of sorts with mismatched stools tucked beneath. The wooden stools would not have looked out of place in a potions or school chemistry lab. The moussaka had filled the flat with a rich cheese and lamb scent, and Claude had taken to rubbing himself on every leg - human or furniture - in an effort to accelerate the possibility of being fed.

Cepheus had uncorked the wine to let it breathe, and stood out of the way to let Arc complete the cooking process.
“Smells terrific,” he remarked, unable to help himself. “Way better than what I had planned.” He poured them both a modest glass, knowing Arc wasn’t the keenest of drinkers. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Was that a smile? Still cringing internally from what he felt were bad attempts to lighten the mood, Arc wasn't quite sure whether Cepheus was laughing with him or at him, but he wasn't about to ask. Better to find bliss in ignorance, and he really didn't want to know.

He moved out of the way to allow the other wizard space to locate a suitable beverage. Even after confessing, he was still restless, fidgety, catching himself looking down at his right hand. Arc curled up his fingers into a ball, his fingernails digging into his palms - he didn't like it when his hand unconsciously did that, though he couldn't remember why. The flashbacks weren't clear enough.

Arc did not catch Ceph's gaze upon him, too occupied with keeping shadows - and excessive worrying - at bay. He focused more on Claude to steady himself, watching the cat try to curry favour from him in the hopes he might get a tidbit of food in return. Unable to resist the charm of a furry feline as ever, he knelt down to fuss over Claude a little, which also got his head out of the way of airborne cutlery, crockery and a bottle of wine.

Eventually he had to break away from the purring cat to retrieve the finished dish from the oven, which he did with his wand. "Could do with a placemat and knife," he said, setting himself back into efficiency mode. "I'll cool it down a little for the moment. No, Claude, this is hot." He very gently nudged the cat aside from trying to get between his legs. "I'll hang onto this until you get things ready."

They served dinner like a couple, giving and taking where only natural. There was a little awkwardness, but Cepheus was sure that was just down to the spontaneity and the serious tone the conversation had reached half an hour before. Claude was doing his very best to distract both of them, and Ceph was glad his boyfriend knew how to handle a persistent cat.

“Here,” Ceph landed a thicker cork mat on the counter for Arc to put down the dish. He acquired a knife and fish slice lift the food out of the dish once cut. “Yep, definitely looks good,” Cepheus confirmed. Clutching the implements down by his side, he tugged the stools out so Arc could take a seat. “Allow me to serve the chef…”

A few minutes later the moussaka was cool enough and served onto two plates beside the salad. Cepheus had hopped up onto the other stool, and raised his wine glass to Arc.
“Thank you darling,” he toasted, “it’s lovely to have you here tonight. Thank you for dinner and company.” He sipped the wine and began to eat. The obligatory noises that suggested the moussaka was nice were entirely genuine from Gamp.

“I heard that Hogwarts is free of the magical measles,” he began, settling on a recent event that Arc might have caught, easing back into the smalltalk. “Not it’s real name, I know, but that’s good. Has it been much the same for London, do you reckon?” He knew Arc only dealt with one floor at St Mungo’s and he might not even be with patients afflicted. “Kayla, my secretary at work, said The Quibbler was predicting Muggles would get it and gain magic for a fortnight. Absolute twaddle, but if it had been true, what chaos!” He shook his head. “Do you think you’d have coped without magic for a fortnight?”

Darling! Arc felt his cheeks warm and glanced away quickly on the pretence of tackling his share of the food. In fact he was more concerned with how Gamp would feel about his food much like a worried new partner looking to make a first impression would. The other wizard seemed to be enjoying himself, that was a good thing indeed.

He didn't bring up the fact that he was eating a bit less than he normally would. They had pushed through a serious conversation topic and by rights - according to what his logic was telling him - this would have closed a metaphorical gap between them by quite a significant bit, but it hadn't fixed his sorely lacking appetite for the whole week. You selfish git. Ah the old voice. He stopped it from going any further with a mouthful to focus on.

Arc silently listening to Ceph as he chatted away, taking sips of the wine (which was really good, he wasn't going to deny) while he paid attention. His mind kept wandering away to make little awe--filled statements such as I haven't had this kind of small talk over dinner as far as I can remember and He has such a nice smile! Always he had to bring it back to the here and now, which as a result had him not answer for a minute or so after Ceph was done. Absolute twaddle, he says. He's adorable.

"I'd have a week off work if I didn't have magic," he said truthfully. "Either I'd be stuck filling in paperwork and reading, or being absolutely bored out of my mind at home. Even if I weren't in a good mood, work keeps me grounded. Wouldn't know what to do without it." He absently speared a small piece on the end of his fork. "We're keeping an eye out in London in general, in case it comes back. I couldn't tell you if London or the rest of England is clear of all of it. As for the Quibbler, well..."

The healer ate the piece he'd just gently murdered. "...I'm not surprised it said that, but I'm glad no one took that seriously. We'd have to issue an official statement to belay rumour from spreading. I hear some in the Ministry got the illness as well - I take it they're getting better, if not already recovered?"

It did not go unnoticed that Arc was enjoying a little wine with dinner. Cepheus had been concerned he might not touch it, but perhaps a little alcohol might ease the anxiety? Perhaps smalltalk would too? He could but hope. It did him, after a long week…

“… work keeps me grounded. Wouldn’t know what to do without it.” Cepheus smiled in understanding. They both shared a wish to be useful, which was probably common to the majority of working adults. They both were useful and made a difference in their own fields. Ceph’s didn’t involve quite as many potential life or death decisions, well, not directly anyhow.

“As for the Quibbler, well…”
“Oh I know,” Cepheus agreed with the insinuation, pausing in the motion of posting salad into his mouth to contribute. He chewed along as he listened to Arc’s thoughts. He was enjoying listening to what he had to say. Although Arc was never animated in conversation, it was good that he felt able to hold it that evening despite the stress which had brought him here.

“I hear some in the Ministry got the illness as well - I take it they’re getting better, if not already recovered?”

“Mhm,” Cepheus agreed, setting down his fork a moment and swallowing. “Yeah, we seemed to have quite a lot of people go down with it over Christmas and into New Year. Not ideal, since that’s when a lot of people take some time off.” Cepheus shook his head, “I think once word got round of what it was, or what it did to people, everyone was a bit more understanding about coming in to cover. I just took a rational look at what was essential to keep running in my Division.” He gave a little shrug and picked his fork up again.

“I didn’t mention when you came over here after Christmas, but I actually spent a while with Healer Marrowbone on Christmas day. We had a chap turn up in the park.” It had been in the paper but Cepheus knew Arc didn’t read everything, and perhaps hadn’t noted his name dropped into one of the reports. “Vampire bite, not a drop left in him.” Cepheus shook his head and looked back down at dinner, sitting straighter as he remembered himself. “Sorry, this was meant to be smalltalk and I’m on vampire related corpses.” He pressed a hand to his face and glanced up at Arc. “Tell me about what you’ve been up to instead, maybe.”

"Dead people at the dinner table isn't much of a conversation stopper for a healer, you know." Arc smirked a little, though he downplayed it for Ceph's sake. "If we were at my family's there would be no talk of work at all. Marrowbone? Well now she's a fun one, thoroughly enjoys her work. Great colleague, but I can see why you wouldn't share her idea of fun. It's a... an acquired taste."

“Tell me about what you’ve been up to instead, maybe.” He took the opportunity for another mouthful. Was he getting an appetite in Ceph's company? Mystery for the ages, because he wasn't about to solve it now as he swallowed. "The usual. Whether it be someone drinking the wrong potion by mistake or mis-identification of a poisonous mushroom. There's always an incident every day, and sometimes we have to cover other floors." He added a bit of salad to his own plate, again not looking at Ceph as he spoke. "It just so happens that I'm not scheduled for the weekend, and it's been a long one."

Should he tell Cepheus why he was in such a bad mood? He mulled this over, and then decided against it. Dinner was a nice affair - he wasn't about to ruin the food. "I recall you asked me about fluid manipulation some time back," he said quietly, picking up the glass and swilling it around absently so that the wine stirred around in it. "It's still ongoing. Manipulating water in its natural habitat is more difficult than it looks, but there are a lot of practical uses for it. Stirring my tea, for one." That was meant to be light-hearted, but he did mean it as well. "At least I could talk to you about it in a better capacity now. What I knew about it then was not the best discussion we had."

Zeus he was talking like a real Ravenclaw this time, but he couldn't help it. Lyra had once described him as "the biggest nerd this side of Hogwarts rivalling Granger", and sure she had gotten a soft punch for it but she hadn't been wrong. It might have been an overly narrow superlative, but she had a reason to make that comparison.

He didn't talk about the findings he'd made about how all this linked with the potential uses of blood in healing, but he wasn't going to discuss that - apart from making him uncomfortable, it was research neither complete nor worth making note of. He hadn't even used it in his work. All just theory. Too much theory, he thought, but at least it wasn't in practical use.

"I'll spare you the boring details about the potion formulae brainstorming and all that, it would all be Greek to you anyway." Arc took a sip of wine, again. It was really good.

“Dead people at the dinner table isn’t much of a conversation stopper for a healer, you know”
“I thought not.” Cepheus chuckled, glad Arc took it well. He continued with his dinner, a little self-conscious of how he ate given it was just the two of them and this was their first proper dinner alone of sorts. Oh, no, Claude was there, he’d just bumped against the back of Ceph’s stool to remind him.

Arc helped himself to some more of the salad, which Ceph took as liking it, rather than noticing any lack of eating on his guest’s behalf. Hollingbury painted a broad brush picture of the Third Floor of the hospital. The fact he was not working that weekend did not go unnoticed by Gamp. He wouldn’t ever get his hopes up (Arcturus had been quite clear, of course) but that suggestion did waylay a usual get out of jail excuse for not spending time, or stopping over…

“I recall you asked me about fluid manipulation some time back?” Arc asked, and Cepheus looked up, nodding in agreement. Arc did lots of interesting work alongside his healing. He was clever, though rarely arrogant about it. Ceph had enjoyed charms at school, studying it to a NEWT alongside Creatures, Arithmancy, Transfiguration and Muggle Studies. He’d done rather well in his NEWTs, truth be told, though it was sixteen, nearly seventeen years since he’d taken the exams.

Arc elaborated vaguely, sloshing wine round his glass as he did. Cepheus followed the motion of his hands.
“… stirring my tea, for one.”
“All got to start somewhere,” Cepheus remarked, reaching for his own glass, mirroring unintentionally in that he held a glass.
“At least I could talk to you about it in a better capacity now…” Arc continued to explain.
“Mhm.” Cepheus sipped his wine without breaking his gaze. He wanted to listen to Arc chatter all night about his interests. They’d spent so much of their earlier outings with Cepheus making most of the conversation. Arcturus was quieter, which was absolutely fine, but Cepheus very much liked to listen to him when he did wish to share.

“I’ll spare you the boring details about the potion formulae brainstorming and all that, it would all be Greek to you anyway.” Arc had this little habit of brushing detail away, suggesting Cepheus wouldn’t either be interested or on occasion, understand. The truth was that Ceph would very much like Arc to detail. He’d never had to tell Arc to stop talking!

“The potions bit, maybe,” Ceph agreed, for that was valid. He didn’t really have need to whip out a cauldron in his job. The nearest he got was trying to mix a cocktail. “I’d totally peer review it for you - well, I’m not exactly a healing peer, but… I’d like to read it, is what I mean.” He gestured animatedly, as he did when he struggled to find the right words, and remembered to put his wine back down only partway through.

“So has it been refining charms, or are you creating incantations from scratch?” Cepheus asked, genuinely interested. He knew the Ministry had its own group who did invent spells. Creating spells was all about channelling magic into a more consistent pattern to be redelivered by multiple wand bearers. Like magic was a great pile of tangled wool and you just tried to find the right bit to pull on, in the right neighbourhood of spells. Internally, Ceph was mixing his metaphors.

“What’s the progress so far?” He asked, sitting back a little, “I clearly need an update.”

He had to stop a bit, and stare at Ceph awkwardly. For a moment it was as if the other wizard had just asked a sensitive question, but then Arc set his glass down. "I'm... sorry, I'm not used to people asking me further updates on anything I do," he said, blushing a little. "Most situations are either polite layman's company or a need to keep information brief. If you're not asking me out of politeness, then... uh..." He hesitated, eyes glancing nervously to one side. "I-I'm not used to it."

It was weird having his partner be so intensely interested. Sure, fellow Ravenclaw and all, but other Ravenclaw alumni didn't continue to ask. This was another new thing he'd have to get used to, if he was going to be spending a lot more time with Cepheus. "You... like math?" His brain was catching up on the conversation now. "I'm sorry? Did I hear that right?"

No, this man was definitely interested. Some long-slumbering areas in his brain stirred and squinted lethargically at Ceph, and he could feel the slight yearning pull in his chest, a sensation he felt like he should be acquainted with but didn't. "I'm... not inventing spells," he said, at length. "This magic has existed for thousands of years before we had cities and towns and streets. The wand is good for conjury, but I'm not dealing with conjury - it's actual fluids in their normal environment. The two are very different; conjured objects bend to our will because it is magic by our command, but pre-existing elements of the world are much more difficult to control with just a wand." He cast around for an analogy. "For example... if you were to pick up a handful of sand, you don't use one finger to do it. You use your whole hand."

For all the knowledge he knew, he was bad at explaining. This was probably why he'd decided not to become a professor - that, and he had made a promise, after all. "So in other words, it's wandless magic. It serves my needs, and there have been countless others before me who have made it entirely possible. Ancient Greeks, Hawaiians, the people of Polynesia and Micronesia... frankly, I don't need to re-invent the wheel, but it comes with a steep learning curve."

He paused to take a bite. "On the bright side," he continued, after swallowing, "it's strangely calming, as long as I don't manipulate more than half a mug's worth of water. Any more than that is inviting a headache. I think I might be doing something wrong on that one..."

Hollingbury seemed genuinely taken aback that Ceph was asking. For a fleeting moment, Gamp wondered if he’d opened a can of worms by showing interest and doomed himself! No, it seemed unlikely, and they were in such early days of being ‘something’ it was best to discover sooner than later. Either way, this blush was a rather lovely colour on Arc. Cepheus wanted to lean over and kiss a pinking cheek, but they were eating.

“You… like math?” Ceph gave a nod in agreement at this statement, “I’m sorry? Did I hear that right?”

“You got me.” Cepheus set down his knife and raised a hand in mock surrender. If he hadn’t been a wizard he’d have certainly been one of those nerds studying A-Level maths or physics. Instead he’d sufficed with Charms, Arithmancy and Transfiguration. He was too interested in the more human (or being) side of life to entirely devote himself to statistics and probability of financial markets. Applying a statistical model to analyse the suitability of giant habitats… perhaps.

Arcturus relented to elaborate on his research, spurred on by Ceph’s question about creating charms. Finishing his moussaka as his guest continued, Cepheus slid the cutlery to one side and wordlessly topped up Arc’s wine glass. Nothing excessive, just enough to be polite before adding an equal amount to his own.

“… pre-existing elements of the world are much more difficult to control with just a wand.” Arcturus explained, and Cepheus considered the point, shifting to cross one leg over the other and turn to face Arc a little better on his stool. He cradled his wine glass in both hands.

“No, I think I get you,” Cepheus encouraged, nodding, gazing off towards the living room, visualising handfuls of sand. He smoothed a hand over his lips and beard, listening, but also self-conscious that he was sporting an unintended fragment of their meal.

“… it’s wandless magic…comes with a steep learning curve.”
“I’m sure.” Ceph agreed. Only the strongest, most practiced wizards in European culture seemed to have any grasp of wandless magic after approaching it from a wand-first direction. There were many other magical cultures who used artefacts, circles, wandless magic but Cepheus did not profess to knowing a huge amount about the intricacies. It sounded like Arc had done his research though. It made him think back to the Christmas present - now pride of place on Ceph’s bookshelves after a good read.

“On the bright side, it’s strangely calming,” Arc continued with his dinner, only right since Cepheus had monopolised the opportunity not to speak by finishing the rest of his plate. “… any more than that is inviting a headache. I think I might be doing something wrong on that one…” The listening party thought for a moment, and then reminded himself he had a lot of listening and reading to do before he tried to make useful suggestions.

“You’ll crack it, I have faith in you.” Cepheus reassured him brightly, reaching out to Arc’s arm, as his fork hand lowered back to the plate. He squeezed Arc’s forearm gently before his elbow. “That was an absolutely amazing moussaka, by the way. Thank you.” He leaned forward and left a quick kiss on Arc’s right cheek, before letting go and switching his wine glass between hands.

“So what’s driven you to research that in particular?” He asked, tilting his head, blue eyes only briefly leaving Arc each time he posed a new question, “What’s your intended application for healing, when you manage it?”

He finally finished the portion he had, quiet in the wake of discussion to let Cepheus speak. It was strange yet oddly touching to have someone listen to him so fervently - strange because most people would normally find him dull. He could name certain people whom he suspected would brush him off as being too bookish for their tastes, and frankly they were accurate. No one wanted to hang around someone whose idea of a good day was to read for most of it.

Well... that wasn't entirely true, but he was not ready. He was haunted by a lot of eyes...

Arc smiled at the kiss and wiped his mouth with a napkin, watching the way Ceph moved his hands - and those blue twinkling eyes. Which, he then realised, made him melt a little when the other wizard asked him what he intended to do with his knowledge on fluid manipulation. Melt was the right word to use because he did so wish he could trust Ceph with this part of his... obsession, yes that's the word. His morbid interest in using blood for good. But the use of blood in magic was illegal, and in healing almost always for extreme cases and last resorts. His ideas would be rejected - at best.

"I've always had an interest in it," he said lightly. "My father once told me that the Hollingburys sometimes have specific members of the family with an affinity for one of the classical elements, and usually have higher proficiency in magic of that element as a result. I've always liked the idea of playing with water, and water represents healing more often than not. Humours of the body played an important role in Greek medicine, and most of our potions need water. I stir potion brews," he added, before he could stop himself, "without the use of a stirrer or a wand."

Oh he really didn't need to say that, it felt like bragging. "Er... it helps to know distribution of water and other solutions required in the potion," he added awkwardly. "Nothing so significant in the world of healing."

Carefully slipping his fingers under the bowl of the glass, slotting the stem smoothly between his fingers, he'd try to play it off normally but this close to that 'edge' that was the start of the slippery slope, he of course made an attempt to turn the topic away from that. "Oh! I... really shouldn't have forgotten, but thank you for the, um, flowers." He blushed, taking a sip from the glass to avoid looking at Cepheus. "And for not using flower language... it's not the... the first thing that comes to my mind when I receive a bouquet."

No, it was not. His first reaction had been sinking down onto the sofa and curling up. Exhausted, lonely and feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. The flowers had been a drop of hot brandy sinking into a cold gullet, a welcome sensation that bloomed joy upon a parched wasteland but like every flower only lasts so long without water and love because we are, after all, part of an indifferent world. In simpler words, it had both healed and hurt to see the flowers.

"Thank you," he murmured again, remembering. Ceph might be slightly alarmed to see him not smile despite the expression of gratitude.

Wizarding families were either obsessed with blood and lineage, or with history, Gamp reflected as Arc recounted his father. Ceph was pretty sure he knew of Arc’s dad up on Level 2, though only through professional channels. Hollingbury line considered themselves to be important with classical elements? Interesting. The Gamp family would be forever related to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration if not that one of Ceph’s forefathers had been a notable Minister for Magic. Recent history aside.

“… I stir potion brews, without the use of a stirrer or a wand.”

Ceph raised his eyebrows with a twist of his head, indicating polite acknowledgement of this minor brag. Arc quickly followed it up with explanations about distribution of water in potions and brushed aside the significance in healing, much to Ceph’s surprise. Though, Arc had quite the habit of brushing aside explanations and such.

Before he could tease a little more out of him, Arc had mirrored Ceph’s behaviour, cradling his own wine glass, and brought up the flowers he’d sent at the start of the week.

“It was my pleasure, and gosh, I thought I better not and say so after what you said!” He grinned, “They were just what Yuka suggested when I explained I wanted to send some.” Arc didn’t seem to know quite how to react to being sent flowers. It was new to him, which was such a shame, but Gamp was glad to be able to provide the experience.

“How about you take the wine over to the sofa,” he suggested “and let me do the rest of the washing up and feed Claude.” He reached for Arc’s plate with a smirk, “don’t worry, won’t ask for a demo in the sink.” He slid from the stood beside Hollingbury, magic lifting the dirty plates and dish across the kitchen. At the suggestion of being fed, Claude let out a creaky meow and trotted at his owner’s heels.

Doing the remaining washing up gave them both some time to pause. Ceph was conscious that however talkative Arcturus appeared, he was an introvert, and wouldn’t want to sustain the verbosity. Cepheus wasn’t a particular extrovert either, he hovered between the cusp of the two, his behaviour very much depending on who he was with and the role he had adopted for the situation. He was glad that the earlier, more serious questions, hadn’t completely dried up the conversation.

He did want to return to that topic some point in the future though. Better to understand what Arcturus was going through, and be there for him. But not press it tonight. He hoped that as they got closer Arc would feel able to share his worries, and perhaps discover they were both terrible over thinkers.

At the sink, out of sight of the other wizard, Cepheus smiled to himself as he realised that was the first time Arc had cooked dinner for them. That they’d actually shared dinner rather than going for Sunday morning breakfast while perusing books, or lunch like they had earlier in the month. On Monday they’d have been seeing each other for a month, though they’d actually barely seen each other for one reason or another.

Ceph’s smile diminished a little at the thought, considering that this evening hadn’t been planned, even if it had turned out better than the premise had suggested it might. He didn’t want to think he’d pressured Arc into being together, and that the healer had got cold feet. Claude protested impatiently from the floor behind him, and Ceph uttered placations in the voice he used only for his feline companion.

It was a good five minutes before Cepheus rejoined Arcturus in the living room. Claude was happily noshing down on his dinner in the kitchen, jaws smacking and pink tongue busy with the bowl. His owner flopped down on the sofa, a little more relaxed in his sprawl than before. It was Friday evening and he was finally starting to shake off the feeling of work.

“I was going to call on you this weekend, as it happened.” Cepheus explained, as if the conversation hadn’t stopped. “See if you wanted to get up to something together.” Check you weren’t avoiding me…

He folded his hands across his stomach, “There isn’t much on at the muggle cinema, as far as I know. I wondered if going to see the da Vinci exhibition at the National Gallery was perhaps your thing. It’s only on until next weekend.”

The sound of dishes clinking in the sink along with running water was a welcome reprieve from the conversation. This might have been the longest talk he'd ever had with someone that wasn't work-related, in the past few days. Strange, he thought as he leaned his head back on the sofa, he could hold conversations about work for at least a good hour, give or take a few sips of water in between. Perhaps the difference between a purpose-driven discussion and one that simply ebbed and flowed wherever the tide went, and which of the two he preferred to have.

He couldn't expect Gamp to know that now. Who would? Everyone wanted to stop thinking of work after a long day, and here he was using work as a distraction and to stave away unappealing thoughts, keeping them at bay the same way a Patronus fended off dementors.

Ceph's weight made him start a little. How long had he closed his eyes for, watching the numbers from some final equations he hadn't had the time to complete earlier? "It's been a little hectic this week," he explained a little apologetically. "Unless you'd prefer I owl you every weekend my schedule in advance? It'd be a first if you asked, but as a healer that also tends to change and would cause plenty of anguish, I imagine. I don't suppose your schedule in the Ministry is as volatile outside of the werewolf business."

He'd sank down into the sofa, not his usual corner but enough to lean back into familiarity of having his backside planted there, just as he had last year. "I... I'm bad at art, I'll be honest. Most things creative. I'd try my best, but for all that Ravenclaw stands I'm not that clever." He shook his head, afraid he'd disappointed the other wizard. "You know I don't read fiction or gossip, either. It does make people wonder how I could be any less interesting as a person. They're not... they're not wrong, I suppose."

Arc looked away, feeling the assumption of Ceph judging him a little coming on. "I'm not free next weekend either. Saturday, yes, but Friday I have a night shift, then Saturday night I'm on call for twenty-four hours. If all goes right - which it rarely does - I'll need a full night's sleep for the Monday after. That's all I know for the long-term, and perhaps gives you an idea of the kind of schedule I run? But," he took a deep breath, "I swear I'm not trying to avoid you. If I drank this much wine on a weeknight I probably wouldn't have enjoyed going to work the next day! My mind's full of healing and math and work and patients..."

He rested both hands on his stomach, lowering his gaze. "I'm just glad if I can grab a little space to myself."

After a moment the healer glanced sideways at Cepheus, eyes looking him up and down. "Change that to space to myself with you, now," he said softly. "Like I said, I'm terribly dull. It always surprises me when someone wants to spend time with me."

That was a no then.

Arc’s fluster about owling shift schedules didn’t help Ceph’s suspicion that a relationship wasn’t something Arcturus seemed willing to make room for in his life. He’d thought about it while falling asleep one night, contemplating the fact that they’d committed to calling themselves a couple after Christmas, but they’d only seen each other once since for lunch. The reticence had been on Hollingbury’s side.

He didn’t answer Arc’s offer to owl things, especially as he indicated it might not remain as sent. He glanced away, with a twitch of his mouth as he considered it all.
“… most things creative… you know I don’t read fiction or gossip, either…” Arc offered each of these things as some sort of explanation about the exhibition. “… make people wonder how I could be any less interesting as a person. They’re not… they’re not wrong, I suppose.”

Ceph glanced sideways to Arc at that, but Arc had looked away, continuing with the elaboration of his diary. Cepheus sat forward on the sofa, knees together, and looked back at the other wizard reclined on the sofa. His expression must have relayed the feeling of compromise he was patiently keeping to himself.
“I swear I’m not trying to avoid you.”

With a tiny sigh, he reached for the wine bottle, lifting to add to them both, when Arc protested. With a small frown, Gamp diverted the bottle of the wine bottle and poured himself some more instead. Perhaps it was the wind loosening Hollingbury’s tongue. He set the bottle down with a little bump and swigged a little wine. They’d been having a nice time, hadn’t they?

“… I’m terribly dull. It always surprises me when someone wants to spend time with me.”

“You’re not exactly selling yourself,” he replied, his honest first thought getting out. He never usually let them go, his second thoughts were always the better ones. Well, at least a little more tactful. Oh dear. He visibly inhaled and exhaled, blinking quickly, not looking at his guest. Best to be honest, though wasn’t it?

“Sorry, sorry…” One hand hung in the air, fingers parted, and he pressed his eyes closed almost wincing.

Gathering his thoughts, Cepheus looked back, fingertips slowly pressing and lifting against the side of his wine glass. “It’s alright, you know, Arcturus, if you prefer to just stick to being friends.” He bit his bottom lip, lowering his gaze and drinking a little more. “I guess,” he tried to clarify, “I’m just not sure where we are with things, that’s all…” Maybe he was just being an arsehole, saying that tonight.