Early evening, Stardust Theatre. Convent Garden.


It was bloody freezing this evening, and Virgil did not even bother to shed his jacket when he swung by his father's theatre to pick up a much nicer jacket he had left behind that night with Eloise[1] a week or so ago. He wanted to wear it to the blind date thing tomorrow, on the off-chance that whoever he ended up with felt like going somewhere flashier than Death & Co after their drinks. Couldn't hurt to be prepared anyway.

           "Good timing!" exclaimed the cloakroom girl as he walked past, towards the bar. "One of your mates just headed in, said she wanted to drop something off for you. Dan has your bomber."

Virgil shot her a sardonic little salute on his way in, half-smiling. The Stardust bar was quiet at this time of the day, before pre-theatre patrons and just after the small crowd of after-work drinkers. To him it was a place as good as his childhood home, in the way most parts of Stardust were. He felt at ease under the dome of glittering stars, treading night blue carpet.

And there at the bar counter at the centre of the oval room, was Waverly.

"Hello hello hello!" Virgil drew up next to his old housemate, sparing a nod in the direction of the bartender, Dan. "Haven't seen you about recently Wav," he greeted in a lazy but content voice. "Is all well in your beautiful world full of beautiful people?"

She was one of the most beautiful witches he knew and it seemed to Virgil that beautiful people should always be surrounded by beautiful things. It was a moral imperative.

1.	31st Jan - City Sang Such Mad Crescendo

Virgil lived such a charmed life, with his magical palace nestled into chic-est London. Stardust was warm, indulgent, and self-loving. Waverly was drawn to the theatre only so much as it was a Place to Be, a place to be well-dressed and seen and think about something different. It was also a good place to find Virgil. He came close and brought his familiar smell.

He greeted her and she stood up from the bar, stretching like a long-limbed feline. She raked her hair out of her face. She wore a long cozy shirt with black and white stripes so thin and close together they buzzed.

"Beset by arrows," she said, not faking cheerfulness.

Waverly hadn't seen Virgil for a couple of weeks, not since they'd indulged in some Friends With Benefits last month.[1] It had ended how they both wanted. No extra attachment, no regrets, just a satisfaction of curiosity and a confirmation that the other would be as interesting as hoped. But Waverly had left with just one thing more: a white rabbit to follow.

The bartender brought Waverly her drink in a stout black mug, an Irish coffee with some kind of chili pepper to give it heat.

"Arrows and mothers. Brought you this."

She handed over one of his album's she'd borrowed.

1.	28 Jan 2012 - Red Lights into Paradise

Arrows and mothers?

Virgil raised a pale eyebrow as he took the stool next to the her, intrigued. Waverly played with gillyweed - and muse - dealers but she appeared to be intact so he doubted the arrows, if they came from such a direction, were aimed well. Unless her mothers had discovered...? He slid the record closer to him and glanced at the cover carelessly while the wizard behind the bar poured a glass of sparkling water with sirop de valériane.

"Thanks," he tapped the album with a painted fingernail and smiled at Wav. "Trouble with the mother hens then? What have they done this time?" Virgil had only properly met one of her mothers: Auror Roh.

It was easier to squeeze water out of a rock than get an outlandish reaction out of that witch. At least he surmised as much from when she had visited level nine with Bagnold.

The bartender set his drink down and disappeared to attend to a few other arrivals. Fairly private then, just the two of them catching up at the bar. Virgil didn't mind listening to his friends' family troubles, even if it could be upsetting. Sometimes Ari made allusions to her mum and dad that boiled his blood. He knew he was very lucky to have the family he did.

"Don't tell me they caught you lighting a joint," Virgil conjectured, mimicking the action. "That must be small fry compared to what they deal with at work."

Waverly's sleeves were pulled all the way down, just her fingers peeking out to touch the warm mug. Virgil was languid and pleasant. Not sullen or pacing, not that she could see. Waverly was happy for him. He deserved some peace and playing around after everything he'd been through. And Waverly was storm-chasing. She kept her feet, still as tall as Virgil on the stool. She was leaning again, stretched and heavy.

"Try, 'sold some to Magical Law Patrol,'" she said with a wince. "The Mothers found out. It was mortifying."

It was embarrassing but it was Virgil.

"They cleaned it up, no paperwork, but not until after a triple interrogation. I've never seen two lesbians closer to eating their young."

She scoffed, coming off as more annoyed than anxious, which is what she really felt. She'd spent the last five days playing the perfect penitent, honoring the unspeaking grounding, slinking to work and back, and making sure she didn't do anything to spook Tam.  No smoking, no booze, no Muse. It had been five days and nothing more had come of it, so Waverly was beginning to be sure she'd got off clean, considering. Everyone would calm down.

But the gillyweed was only the half of it.

She sold green to one of Sol's patrol officers? He affected a sympathetic grimace and sipped his drink, trying to imagine the amount of trouble he would have been in under similar circumstances. Edgar and Angela allowed him to get away with most things - they believed that rule breaking and troublemaking were rites of youth - but dealing drugs did not fall under that umbrella.

Dealing, in their eyes, was a life choice. You couldn't erase yourself from the minds of your suppliers or the people you dealt. It would always be there. Especially if you got caught. The way Wav was scoffing, though, perhaps it didn't mean as much to her.

"Lucky you it isn't on record..." Virgil leaned against the counter, languid. "Merlin knows how many would-be criminals lay amongst the offspring of grumpy aurors. Slapped on the wrist, swept under the rug." 

He couldn't help being so openly amused by how much of a stereotype his friend had become, even if her crime was a step up from disturbing the peace or whatever error it was the children of aurors were most guilty of committing.

"If it's all sorted, why the long face?" he lifted his glass, as if to toast her. "You should be celebrating a successful retreat from Solomon's clutches. I'm sure your mums will move on to the next emergency of the hour." Werewolves or blood purists and dark wizards running amuck.

Virgil was sympathetic and correct. Repressed childhoods of strict parenting produced rebels who those same strict parents couldn't bear to haul in. The need to protect won over, even if painfully, the need to apply the system. Waverly had taken advantage without hesitation. She ought to feel remorse for 'putting them in this position' but she didn't. It was their choice, not hers. The only regret she felt was getting caught.

Her friend here, this prince, was no wild child raised in relative freedom. Waverly wondered how easy that must be. Was it boring, she wondered.

Virgil didn't have to be a Seer to know Waverly was churning with conflict beyond the gillyweed drama. But the other thing, she had been debating telling him.

Without almost any other movement, Waverly used one finger to pull down her sleeve just enough. Just the slightest amount to reveal two pink scars like a tiny constellation. Once he had a chance to see, she released her sleeve. Then she laced her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands.

Without expression, Waverly watched him closely for a reaction to the vampire bite. He had to know she would go, that she'd never let him have it all to himself. It was the furthest edge of what it was to live and she chased it.

A confused look entered his eye as Waverly went still, failing to respond. And then his gaze dropped instinctively to a movement; Virgil caught a glimpse of twin scars on her delicate wrist just an instant before she obscured the tell tale evidence once more. His heart stammered a beat and he looked back up to meet his friend's observant look. There was something in his smile that gave away a morbid thrill.

"Oh? The madame had a go of it, did she?" he leaned in slightly, curious in spite of an underlying anxiety. "And just the wrist?" Virgil added in a lower voice as he glanced at her neck to see if she had gone any further. If he'd had a choice that night at Hooker's, he would have preferred the wrist as well.

It dawned on him, at the dotting of his question mark, that Waverly's true displeasure couldn't possibly be in regards to the bite. She wasn't the sort. Virgil's countenance fell abruptly, and he heard himself express an incredulous and humourless laugh. "Wait. Did your mothers...? Did they find out you were bitten?" he was not so sheltered he didn't realise the difference between Edgar's reaction to a vampire bite and that of Wav's parents.

A world of a difference.

Waverly didn't hide her disgust at Virgil bringing up other bite locations. The wrist was as close to Terry Hooker she'd ever want to be. She'd been to far under the sea to try and choose someone else, all to easily allowing herself to be scooped up by the smarmy patriarch. Virgil looked so eager, drinking up just the glance at her wrist as if her bite was as good as his.

Perceptive as he was, he quickly kenned onto the cause of Waverly's gloom. Waverly sat up and took a drink. She nodded. It made her stomach churn. That's when she'd been truly panicked. Deflecting her parents had been at the borders of even Waverly's limits. Only Virgil would understand why she'd had to.

"Yeah, they saw my arm. Sitting in the Ministry of Magic with a vampire bite on my arm?" she said to Virgil, some of her toughness faded. "I didn't tell them anything but I didn't have to. They knew what they were looking at."

She shook her head. "I thought I was going to be sick. They can't find out where it happened. He made that clear enough."

It wasn't so often that Waverly strung so many words together at once. She didn't exactly bubble over with a narrative. But she'd done this thing alone and if she kept it inside, it'd spoil.

"I should have enchanted the bite or something, but I don't know. It was just the night before, I didn't know I was going to see them."

But then, here she was, still not magically concealing the marks. Just another step towards the edge.

The real grown-ups were involved, now. Virgil bit his bottom lip as the notion crossed his mind - perhaps people like Yavin or Edgar thought of vampiric delights as the fare of any truly adventurous young man, but a large majority of wizarding society didn't share such eccentric opinions. They spoke about it in hushed whispers and warned children away from those fanged creatures who so long ago forsook their humanity. Stardust was a small corner of the universe.

He drank some of his cocktail while Waverly grumbled about how she wished she had disguised the marks.

"Wait." Virgil frowned and replayed her words in the habit of someone who frequently recalls conversations. "He made it clear enough?" he reached forward to lightly graze the back of her hand through the sleeve of her shirt. "Wav, who? Was it Hooker himself?"

The thought turned his stomach. There had been an entire coven, or so he assumed, the night he visited with Nemo. Waverly could have begged a bite off of any of them, surely? Not necessarily Hooker? In all truth, Virgil considered returning to Camden on his quiet nights, and was resolved to go through with it should Valentine's fail to hold his attention. But he wouldn't have sought the coven leader.

Before Waverly could answer, following his question almost right away, thoughts moving quicker than tongue. "And, really, you could just wear a watch or a bracelet over yours. I've stopped enchanting mine altogether."

Damn it, Waverly. She flushed warm at Virgil's concern. Disgust and anxiety over it all took a sudden backseat to a cat-like pride in what she'd done. She nodded, the only shame she felt was the self-awareness she was an utter wreck for having enjoyed any of it. A beautiful disaster.

"I asked him for it," she said. She hadn't been taken advantage of or preyed upon or attacked. He'd taken her to a place in her head she didn't know was there, sure, he'd been gross, sure. But she couldn't claim she hadn't wanted it.

She drew her hand away from Virgil to adjust her sleeve again. She shouldn't be so proud about it; he'd hurt Virgil. She cooled off a little.

"I didn't know it was him at first. He was kind of a letch. Sorry."

Waverly wasn't sure why she apologized. The last thing she wanted to do was abandon the total sense of agency she was clinging to.  Another question waited in the wings, but begging more from Virgil after The Terrence Hooker Reveal seemed like too much reveling, not at least until she discovered how Virgil felt.

            "I didn't know it was him at first. He was kind of a letch. Sorry."

He had felt himself go pale when Waverly told him that she asked for Hooker to bite her - on clarification, however, Virgil's cheeks flushed warmly. A letch. Yes, Hooker had that particular quality even in the way the vampire had addressed Nemo, with his vague but distinctly threatening invites to the pub's mysterious back rooms.

It was strange to look at his old classmate, warring between the pride of being bitten and the frustration of being caught. He remembered asking Cepheus Gamp an impertinent question[1] about vampires, not even a year ago, and the older wizard's advice to refrain against experimental relations.

Fuck. He pushed his hair back and grimaced to himself. What a child he'd been, so keen to dabble with the idea of the undead.

"Don't apologise. It isn't your fault Hooker is the way he is..." Virgil's expression softened into a half-smile. "I only wish I had your self-possession," he added, smoothing down the strands of blonde that had stuck up at the back of his head in their stubborn way. "Are you, um. Are you going to go back? I've been thinking about it. If Valentine's turns out a bore."

1.	27th March 2011 - Ready to Go, Heartbeat -

Wave and V weren't these kinds of friends, really. Relationships could change, and they should change, but they weren't comforting shoulders or consoling coo'ing. But now that they were stepping towards the edge, conspirators wasn't going to cut it. Waverly needed someone to talk to about this who'd understand and leave shame and shock at the door.

Virgil's question touched the border of the one she was holding close. Would she go back? She fully believed Virgil when he said he was thinking he'd go back. It wasn't an idle fancy. He wasn't afraid. He was afraid of being bored. Waverly was nearly ready to admit she was afraid of Hooker, but right now Waverly was afraid of her so-called self-possession. It had almost taken her all the away away.

Waverly sat back and let out a long breath. She felt dizzy remembering. But then, she nodded.

"It's inevitable," she said. Giving it up to fate and giving it up to her self-possession absolved her of responsibility, freed her from the worrying abandon of how deep she'd gone into the bite. It stopped being a desire and became nature.

"Maybe a witch," she added distantly, forgetting the term didn't apply.

Inevitable.

Such a grand word for a simple question. He could see that this experience with Hooker had put his friend through the wringer - Waverly gave her answer some thought. Virgil wondered if he'd just witnessed her make up her mind. "Maybe a witch," she added, as if though she was speaking from a faraway place.

"They're not witches, or wizards," he reminded her and gently nudged her leg with his. "What was it like for you?" Virgil couldn't help but ask; she would have gone in with a straightforward plan and expectations, unlike him, and he supposed this might have made her experience more pleasant. "I could have gone right to bed afterwards."

For either sleep or play, he thought, sipping his drink.

Waverly was starting to slide into comfortable blankness. It was bare, not like Virgil's easeful cat-like company. It was a blankness that warded off anything overwhelming and everything about the vampires been Everything. She'd been Everything and the bite had been Everything.

She did tug a smile when Virgil reminded her of the vampires' nature. That hadn't been obvious at first. They could, all of them, have passed as human. Waverly doubted the opposite would be true. They ID'd her as wix the moment she walked in.
 
Waverly nodded. Yeah, she'd gone right to bed like Virgil said, and found some oblivion in sleep. Then he asked her the same question she'd asked him that night.

What did it feel like?

"It felt like ..." she started narrowing her eyes. "Not like sex. Not for me."

"It felt like sinking. It hurt but only for a second and then it came like a wave. Sinking, or melting, utterly deep and gone. Beyond good. I could have stayed there forever. I really felt like he could've taken it all and I wouldn't have cared."

Waverly sat on that for a moment, feeling confident Virgil would let her have the time. "But when it was over I felt ... mortal."

She said the word as if it had the same meaning as damp, heavy, and dirty. It had been a shock, but she didn't want to say so. There was a lot she didn't want to say.

For a moment he was surprised to hear her say it wasn't like sex - and then he remembered how he described it to her, his own experience. Better than sex... because sex, always a fickle subject with Virgil, was his pinnacle of hedonism. It offered the lowest of lows and the highest of highs, it was a source of both tension as well as relief.

Not everyone shared the same reference point, so he listened to Waverly thoughtfully and searched her countenance for anything beyond the words she spoke. Being bitten felt as good as she said, except that Virgil had wanted his to stop. "But when it was over I felt ... mortal."

He closed his eyes briefly and nodded. Yes, mortal, that shocking revelation that he was close to the veil of death, not dissimilar to standing on a ledge and giddily knowing something irreversible was only a step away. Except he'd been there, hadn't he? In Limbo, he crossed the uncrossable line and returned with secret knowledge.

"Yeah," his voice sounded parched when he finally spoke, and he cleared his throat. "Yeah, that sounds right. I suppose if Hooker hadn't been on me, I might have wanted it to go on forever too."

Lucky them that the Camden Town Hookers didn't dare drain their patrons. Virgil shuddered and suddenly felt daunted by going back to the pub. "It's like nothing else, is it? We just trust them not to kill us."