Cepheus Gamp had seen four in the morning. He was almost certain it hadn’t been a dream. He’d tossed, turned and flailed his legs, trying to get comfortable. Claude, his black and white cat, had given up trying to share the bed and relocated to his preferred armchair.

The wizard did not have work in the morning (barring any Being-related incidents), which was lucky. However, it wasn’t work that was causing a bout of stress-related insomnia, but a most unfortunate dinner and conversation with a dear friend, and briefly, boyfriend.

After Arcturus Hollingbury had left[1], Cepheus had moped. He’d played sad songs on the piano and chewed back over months of interactions searching for where it had all gone wrong. He drifted in the direction of blaming himself to overturning that stance, believing he had done the right thing and that he’d even been a fool to spend time on the other wizard. Then he’d felt guilty all over again.

Sleeping had been necessary but difficult. Even if he had finished the wine and opened another bottle. He’d stoppered it when the notes on the page had started to move of their own accord.

It was late enough for the sun to have crept above the horizon and dawn to have officially broken, but early enough for only Diagon shop keepers and traders to be busy outside on the cobbles. Cepheus was face first into a pillow, a mop of black mane on end. An unusual draught tickled his bare shoulders and disturbed his hair.

1.	January 27th, 2012 To Calm Unsettled Waters

Orion Gamp dropped the end of his roll up into the glass jar on his brother’s doorstep. His tan arms were covered in a worn leather jacket, his lanky legs in ripped jeans, and a heavily-washed low-necked t-shirt showed off the best of his collarbone and tattoos. His long, brown curls were partly drawn up in a bun, but tresses draped over his collar and drooped behind his ears.

His wand was pressed to the bottom of the front door, as he crouched. His boots scuffing against the stone flags of the top step. He wrinkled his nose, licked a finger and pressed it to the bottom of the door, testing the temperature of the air. Yeah, that’d do it.

With a jingle of metal, he leapt to his feet as adept as a cat, and began a second round of hammering on the door. His weathered fist was not shy in meeting the wood. He pressed his ear to the grain as he held his hand back, sure there would be stirring within this time.

Cepheus pushed himself up of the mattress and squinted at the time. It was eight in the morning, not an entirely unreasonable hour for someone to be banging at the front door, but still early for most of his friends. His ears tuned into the wider noise, the ticking of a nearby clock, a drip of water from the kitchen, Claude’s paws in the hallway approaching the front door to see what the commotion was. Then wider still, the sound of boxes in the yard as the florists set up, and voices in the alley.

He swung his legs out of bed. It was at this moment the second bottle of wine reminded him of the night before. His head was banging almost as hard as the caller at the door. The room tilted. Was it him, or was it also a bit chillier than usual?

“Hang on, hang on!” Ceph cried, hoping his voice could be heard by the caller. “Merlin damn it…” he cursed to himself, fumbling for his wand and summoning his dressing gown.

Orion lifted his ear from the front door as he heard approaching footsteps. He composed himself and leaned nonchalantly on the banister rail outside the flat, elbows bent, ankles crossed. When the owner of the door revealed him, he greeted his brother with a wide grin.

“Cepheus!” Orion exclaimed, springing to the balls of his feet. He held his arms out wide, inviting a hug, though not expecting such. His brother’s hair was on end, there were dark shadows under his eyes and his dressing gown was tied at an angle. Either he was down with the flu or it had been a heavy night and his younger sibling had a raging hangover. “Surprise! Heavy night, brother?” Without waiting for any confirmation, he grasped a large hiking bag from the second step and hoisted it onto his right shoulder. “Good job I’m here then. I know just the thing to fix it.”

Cepheus pinched his nose as directed, and necked the lot. It tasted worse than Ri had illuminated. He dropped the glass back down on the kitchen worktop and fought the need to bring it all back up, gagging. His older brother slapped him on the back of the shoulder, only partially padded by the dressing gown. He wasn’t sure if the hangover cure Tibetan wizards had taught Orion was going to do the trick with a hangover and lingering guilt. He had expected his brother to insist on hair of the dog as a remedy instead.

“Thanks, I guess.” Cepheus replied, before splashing his face in the kitchen sink. “What are you doing here? I only just got your postcard yesterday.” He dried his face on yesterday’s tea towel, a cat chasing a ball of wool around the material.[1] “Thought you were trying to find yourself with some meditation camp?”

1.

Quote from: Cepheus Gamp on October 22, 2019, 12:22:40 PM “Ah, another postcard from Orion,” he lifted the card from between the envelopes and turned it over for a read, “apparently he’s aligning his chakras or something. Booked into some retreat with meditation, chanting, bells and the whatnot.” Cepheus frowned, puzzled, “I’m only hoping he’s calling it that on his postcards to me and Andie, not to the locals.” It was amazing that Orion continued to survive given his jack-the-lad type approach to life and cultural investigation. Penny Pickler would have a field day.

“Pfft.” Orion waved a hand vaguely. “I got bored.” An entirely plausible explanation. He hated sitting still for too long. That was why he travelled, lived on a boat and wrote things for Devia Orbis. It was his perfect lifestyle. “And I have to come back once in a while to see you all, don’t I?” He reasoned. “I skipped Christmas - so it seemed as good a time as any to come back now.”

To rainy, cold, England in late January. Yeah, picturesque. Entirely spontaneous and not at all driven by the approaching anniversary of a significant family event.

“Thought I’d come drop in on my favourite brother first,” he continued, stroking his beard as he paced the living room. His attention was all over the place, taking in a year’s worth of changes to Ceph’s Diagon Alley flat. “Before I went over to the old place. Stay with Andie, right. She’s got enough room, innit.”

“She has…” Cepheus agreed, feeling altogether seasick of his brother’s pacing. “I am sure she will appreciate the company. If anything, Solly[1] will enjoy looking after someone else. If you’re sticking around, I feel it should be Sunday lunch there tomorrow. If Andie’s not working, and if Ariadne isn’t covering a quidditch match.”

That was the trouble with being a trainee quidditch correspondent for the Prophet. You ended up spending all your weekends at the side of a muddy pitch in all weathers. Ariadne seemed to be thriving on it, but Cepheus was sure she’d be very keen to see her father too. Especially if this was an unannounced visit.

“Let me grab a shower and we’ll go out for breakfast. Give you some time to fill in the gaps.” Cepheus suggested. His brother shrugged agreement, dropped down on the sofa and put his boots on the coffee table. “Don’t start a revolution while I’m gone,” the Being Head warned semi-seriously.


End

1.	The family house elf previously owned by Mortimer and Lyra Gamp