“Oh! Hello.”

While there was someone outside, he hadn’t expected it might be this particular someone. Partway through a gillyweed joint, in a most glorious jacket, was Virgil Carstairs. Bright as the sun but pale coloured like the moon.

Cepheus paused, abruptly, quickly glancing about for a second figure. He fully expected that if Virgil were here, he would not be alone.

“Am I intruding?” He asked, softly, one hand still anchored to the doorway, as if he could sweep back inside at the merest indication.

“You know it’s started, don’t you? Or are you not…?” Cepheus thumbed inside as if the two of them were taking some air in the break of a pub quiz. Unfinished sentences and questions, all of his words.

He had lost himself to gathering wool as he leaned against the alley wall and admired the narrow lane of stars above them, halfway through his gillyweed. It was cold out here - the tip of his nose was pink, as were his cheeks. Virgil hummed to himself, a little song about stars he'd written as a boy.

            “Oh! Hello.”

The blonde stood straight, on instinct hiding the joint behind his back. He felt like someone had jerked his thoughts down from space, which was a rather disorienting sensation. "Cepheus." The name left his mouth before his brain quite registered it.

Virgil stared at the older wizard dumbly for a second. In the next second, however, he remembered where he was and gestured for Cepheus to shut the door.

"Oh I am , I know," he drew his hand back forward to take a quick puff before the embers died down, offering half-answers to the elegant half-questions. "Sorry. I'm terribly impatient," his mouth twisted into a languid, perfectly guiltless pout. "Couldn't find my other half so I snuck out for a smoke."

Some things didn't change. Wasn't this how he'd bumped into Cepheus at the career fair, last year? Except it had been a regular cigarette and the height of spring. "Toke?" he held out the joint. "I was trying to take the edge off."

“… I’m terribly impatient.”

Didn’t Ceph know!

“Go on then,” Cepheus agreed, entirely feeling that ‘edge’ given he had not found his partner. “Thanks.” He reached out and received the slender roll-up from Virgil. Try to be cool.

“Everyone’s either at the bar looking for someone else, or gone to ground in a booth for awkward getting-to-know-you conversation.”

Ceph took one more quick drag and handed it back, nodding more polite thanks as he held his breath a second then exhaled smoke into the cool night air. His other hand reached into his jacket pocket and his fingers found the edges of the shape. He ran his thumbnail around the points.

“Had a moment where I thought I’d been paired off with your boss,” Cepheus grinned, knowing that Yavin Morgenthau meant more to Virgil than his Department Head. “But he’s carrying around a lace glove.” It made the Being Division Head think of dandies in history books.

Content to exchange conversation with Virgil in lieu of a date, Cepheus leaned against the wall beside the door. He lifted a foot to rest it against the bricks. “I’ve probably met your date - what was in your envelope?”

As the other wizard reached for the joint, Virgil appraised his outfit with open curiousity. The gillyweed was settling nicely into the many corners of his mind and he almost felt like he was onstage, in a dream. The leather jacket was new - it wasn't the shearling lined navy he had seen before. Dark, glossy black to offset the softness of a jumper and scarf.

Virgil smiled as Ceph returned the joint, and he felt his stomach flutter. That was bad.

            “Had a moment where I thought I’d been paired off with your boss..."

The smile was fleeting and he choked on gillyweed smoke, trying to force it into a laugh. Ab.So.Lute.Ly. Not. In neon signs. The idea of Yavin...! And...! No. That was illegal. Anyone but. And, actually, if not Yavin, then who did he have to tolerate seeing Cepheus with tonight?

"Mine?" Virgil slipped a hand into his silk bomber jacket, mumbling through his joint. "I guess it's because of Edgar," he tugged out the half star and tossed it into the air to catch it again, "Stardust and whatnot. Queen G isn't exactly original, is she?"

Not that anyone read Witch Weekly for originality. His eyes followed Cepheus and he realised this was the first time in ages they'd properly spoken, outside of pleasantries at the Ministry.  "Have you done this before?" he indicated the door with his glittery star. "Do people get stood up often? I've rather made a peacock of myself, so I wouldn't be surprised."

Virgil glanced down at his own clothes, frowning. If they matched him with a witch she might not want to kiss a wizard who sported mascara and lipstick quite so easily.

“Queen G isn’t exactly original, is she?” Virgil asked, but Ceph’s fingers had tightened around his own token, still in his jacket pocket. Was it…

He’d completely missed reacting to the comment about Gen, fixated on the half star in Virgil’s grip.

“Have you done this before?” Virgil asked, with what must have just been natural curiosity.

“Er, once yes,” Cepheus replied, his attention snapped up to Virgil’s face, his fingers smoothing over the token as he tried to decide what to do. “I er, ended up on a date with Rascal Rosier,” not the time, not the time. He could have detailed, hadn’t he already detailed once before to Virgil? Did Gen pair us up on purpose? “We’re just, uhm, mates,” Ceph hastened to add, recalling that he’d run into Virgil and his friends one night at The Closet when he and Rascal had met up.

The older wizard nervously wet his lips, tongue passing over them, and gave Virgil a somewhat serious look.

“Is that your token then?” He nodded at the half star. “Only…”

His hand pulled the other half of the glittery star from his pocket and held it up so Virgil could see.

“…Snap?” He offered, quietly, a tentative smile replacing the grave expression of a moment before.

A blind date with Rascal Rosier? Good luck to any wizard trying to top that, he thought skeptically, remembering the eccentric author from a run-in at The Closet. Suppose he had met Rascal now, in the light of his recent string of bed mates? He might have made a brief proposition - even if only for the hell of it, to satisfy a perverse curiousity.

The idea was fun but Ceph's countenance had grown serious now and Virgil felt his pulse quicken anxiously. “Is that your token then?” Uh oh. Had he seen someone leaving with the other token? That would be perfect wouldn't it, of all peo--

            “Only…Snap?”

"What?" The younger wizard stared in surprise for a second and was on the cusp of a reply (what? a laugh?) when the half suddenly wriggled out of his grip with embarrassing eagerness to join Cepheus' token.

The star was completed with a soft click! It glowed bright and bright before it shot up above their heads, spinning, and burst into a shower of golden glitter. This time Virgil did laugh, closing his eyes and tilting his chin down so that he caught some of the glitter in his blonde hair. Lucky thing they were out here or everyone in Death & Co would have glitter on them for weeks!

"Oh thank Merlin," he exclaimed softly, breathless. Virgil stubbed out his joint and cuffed Ceph's shoulder. "Don't do that!" his mouth pulled into an disingenuous pout. "I thought you were going to tell me I was stood up! I'm too young and pretty to be stood up!"

“Yes, you are, and no, I mean, I wasn’t - I just…” Cepheus stopped what he was trying to say and inhaled, getting his thoughts together. His words were falling over each other in his fluster. “I don’t know, I thought you might be… disappointed?”

Especially given their past exchanges and awkwardness. Hadn’t he broken Virgil’s heart not so long ago? Ceph had taken council of Balfour and Johann the morning he discovered Virgil had dashed off without saying goodbye. Ariadne had recounted sad violin playing and moping from Virgil. They’d cleared the air, fair enough, but it didn’t mean Cepheus believed Virgil had magically got over it. It didn’t mean he’d got over it either.

The star connecting above them before showering glitter had been as good as a single celebratory firework. There were small mercies that they were alone and nobody else had turned to stare at them when it had happened. There was an abundance of glitter in Virgil’s blonde hair, but it always had a natural brilliance. Glitter suited him. Pretty much anything suited Virgil.

“I mean, I’m not - but isn’t tonight all about meeting someone new?”

Disappointed? Virgil's mock moue turned into a confused look. He was very lucky that Cepheus decided to follow up the question with another one, because it prevented the blonde from saying something stupid or ridiculous, like how he couldn't possibly feel disappointed after so ultimate a disappointment as their chat last October. Like how he was trying so hard to forget he almost fooled himself.

             "- but isn’t tonight all about meeting someone new?”

"If I'm being completely honest...." And why shouldn't he be? "It was just for fun, someone actually recognised me from pulling at The Closet[1] the other night and I needed a change of scene."

He slumped against the wall next to Cepheus, smiling a little sheepishly. "Sorry you didn't meet anyone new though," Virgil looked at the other man, the glitter that gleamed like actual stars in his black hair. "Did you have grand plans?"

1.	Malachi Reid - City Sang Such Mad Crescendo

“Grand plans?” Cepheus echoed, the frown back ever so slightly. “No, not at all. Like you, just relieved my date didn’t see me and do a runner.” He smiled, a grateful twinkle in his eye. “I never come to these with great expectations.” He shrugged. Cepheus didn’t consider himself a great romantic who would plan an elaborate evening to woo his potential date, especially if it was orchestrated by Witch Weekly. But it didn’t mean he’d pass on the opportunity to try, especially amongst a pool of other interested souls. Trouble was finding the ones who were up for something a little longer than a night.

“You were just looking to hook up with someone then?” Ceph asked Virgil, picking up on the comment about pulling at The Closet. They both visited the club with some regularity, but he imagined Virgil did it with far more regularity than Ceph did. He was younger and had the stamina to be up all night dancing and still turn into work without too much of a hangover. Potions enabled one to do that now, but in your teens and early twenties, a wizard was invincible.

“Because,” Cepheus continued, turning to look at Virgil, “I can totally make myself scarce if you want to head back in and see if you want to steal someone’s date.” He thumbed towards the door he’d just appeared through, “It’s not like you wouldn’t be an upgrade for most in there.” He playfully returned the shoulder cuff from a moment before by elbowing Virgil’s arm softly. He drew his other hand through his mane of sparkly dark hair, only burying the glitter further into the strands. “But I’m pretty sure I owe you a drink…”

             "You were just looking to hook up with someone then?"

"Um, something like that," he didn't mean to blush but it felt awful hearing that straight from Cepheus - his brilliant peacock of a plan summed up in one simple sentence. Virgil had come looking to get laid; he had enough practice not to be shy about it tonight, or at least he wouldn't have been shy if anyone besides Ceph had turned up. Anyone. Professor Storm himself could have appeared on the spot and it would have been fine!

For a second he thought the older wizard was trying to gently shoo him off; the elbow nudge and offer of a drink, however, reassured Virgil. He laughed, tucking a lock of gold behind his ear as he considered Cepheus, colour in his cheeks.

"I might be an upgrade," his mouth pulled into a diffident smile, "but I don't think I could say the same about anyone I might steal." What was he doing? Was he flirting? Was it okay to flirt? "Drink might be nice. Except I don't know if I want to go in again..." Virgil glanced at the door and bit his bottom lip thoughtfully.

Ari was in there, amongst other people he knew. And he didn't want to share, even if it was just chatting company on Valentine's weekend.

Cepheus blinked, taking in the way Virgil bit his bottom lip. He pressed his own lips together in thought and looked straight ahead, mind at work. Virgil was definitely implying he would happily spend an evening with Cepheus. It wasn’t as if Ceph didn’t know this already, but he’d given Virgil at least two goes of walking away, guilt-free. Cepheus could have walked away without even letting Virgil know they’d been assigned as partners. But he hadn’t. He… didn’t want to.

“Alright…” he drew out the word, shrugging, “we could go dance the night away at The Closet or elsewhere?” He suggested, turning back to Virgil, “or my place is just down the Alley.”

Merlin, was that too forward? Was that too suggestive? Oh shit, oh shit. Cepheus thought inwardly, while trying his best to remain cool, calm and collected on the outside. Fuck, you’re probably gleaning all this aren’t you Virgil?

Dancing the night away had been the original plan - except nothing ever went to plan, he was sick of the plan. The plan sucked balls.

           “...or my place is just down the Alley.”

Virgil glanced down the little back lane in which they had taken refuge, surprised by the offer but trying his best to seem casual. People went over to other people's places for drinks all the time. Even in their flat. He was a glutton for punishment to say yes to drinks, perhaps. Who could blame him though? Being around Cepheus made his stomach flutter, like Fauna had said in a cliche (many cliches were true). Butterflies.

"Alright," he echoed the earlier response, his own enunciation more succinct and shy. "You can fix me an original drink, can't you? A Cepheus Gamp specialty." Virgil gestured with flourish, pretending to drink from an imaginary cocktail glass.

And then he giggled, because he was a little high, and he liked giggling.

Virgil giggled, which made Cepheus do the same. He loved Virgil’s giggle, melodic and carefree. Young Carstairs had such a sarcastic, acidic edge at times, it beggared belief that he could giggle like that. Cepheus would always take it over the tears.

“Actually, my speciality is tea, but as it’s you…” He smiled and the corners of his eyes creased. He’d not really fancied going back in either. Not with his brother chatting up half the room and Ariadne meant to be focusing on her own date without her father and uncle ruining the mood. If nothing else, Claude would appreciate a cat-loving guest.

Destination agreed, Cepheus stood abruptly from the wall and offered Virgil the crook of his left arm.


—-

Claude, as it happened, was fast asleep, legs akimbo, on the armchair when Cepheus and Virgil rolled in. The black and white cat rolled over and sat up abruptly, whiskers twitching as his owner hopped on one foot and then the other to slip off his shoes and offer to take his guest’s jacket.

“Do you drink gin?” Cepheus asked, leading them down the narrow hallway with more haste than he might ordinarily. There was a certain spring in his stride, and had been down the alley, of anticipation of a good evening. While the apprehensive twist in his stomach remained, it was now accompanied by a buoyancy in his shoulders. At confirmation on the gin, Cepheus gestured over the kitchen counter to the sofa, “I’d avoid the armchair, he’s probably covered it with hair now. I swear he squirms around on his back on purpose to achieve maximum coverage.”

He dipped down behind the counter, rifling through the bottles he had, reaching to the back for the dark green bottle of champagne leftover from Christmas.
“Thank goodness for magic,” he remarked with a smile, tapping his wand to rapidly cool the champagne. Condensation grew across the glass bottle before their eyes. “So, lemon juice,” Cepheus explained, as if delivering a spontaneous lesson, “sugar syrup, gin… ice and…” Claude’s ears flattened back at the noise of the magical cocktail shaker.

A minute or two later, Cepheus presented Virgil with a champagne flute of French 75 cocktail.

“Cheers,” he toasted, the glasses ringing as they met. “Happy Valentine’s…”

With his jacket off, Virgil's outfit was much more toned down and just a tiny bit cold. He crossed his arms over his chest just in case, cradling his elbow in one hand as he followed Cepheus down the passage towards the living room. More than anything tonight this felt the most dreamlike - or at least similar to revisiting a dream, a nightmare. Here was the piano bench he had sat upon in September last year, there was the armchair he had occupied upon request. Claude!

Memories of that other night quickly disappeared as he saw the black and white cat, crouching to give him a good scratch. Virgil wondered if he could smell Dante on him.

He lavished Claude with a little more affection while Cepheus was busy making drinks, and politely dragged himself away from the fine feline to plop down where directed. Virgil sat sideways with his long legs folded up, leaning against the couch arm with a blissed out smile when the raven-haired wizard joined him with drinks.

             “Cheers. Happy Valentine’s…”

"Cheers!" he echoed and drank, his voice faltering slightly at Valentine's. "Oh, I like it," Virgil licked his lips thoughtfully, distracted because he'd never tried this particular combination.

This felt weird. Or no, it felt like exactly what it was meant to be: a date. They had been matched on a date and they were having fancy drinks now. Not weird, normal. Rather cosy and nice even. A little noise caught his attention just then and he glanced at Claude, who had hopped on to the closed piano forte. Virgil laughed abruptly and then shot Ceph an apologetic look.

"Sorry. I just remembered when I thought Claude was your boyfriend," he covered his face with his free hand, shaking his blonde head as glitter fell to his shoulders. "Salazar's socks, Cepheus, I could paint you a picture! Literally! I thought he was the most hedonistic, sensual Frenchman that ever existed."

And now look! Perhaps neither French nor sensual, but surely most cats were hedonistic. Virgil lowered his hand, cheeks a bright pink, happy to laugh at himself. "Like a Mediterranean Byron, except with a curly moustache and a wig. And lots and lots of crimson velvet," he sipped his drink as he pulled a face. "Claude is much prettier."

Claude broke the tension quite unintentionally, stirring a memory in Virgil’s mind.

“… I thought he was the most hedonistic, sensual Frenchman that ever existed.” At the memory of the miscommunication, Cepheus chuckled. Claude sniffed at them both, wondering if there was something to eat, and then began to clean himself with urgency, pink tongue hanging out between strokes across his fur. Virgil’s equally pink cheeks reappeared from behind a raised hand.

“What a thought!” Cepheus agreed, laughing, “You must have thought all manner of things until you realised he was a cat. I mean, he shares my bed, eats whatever I serve, lounges all over the furniture, but I think if a man could lick his own arsehole,” Cepheus gestured towards Claude with his glass, and turned back to fix Virgil with a sly grin, “he’d sell tickets…” He giggled at his own suggestion and sipped a little more cocktail. The piano lid creaked as Claude extended a back leg like a ballet dancer, and continued his wash.

“I mean, you suggested I bring him along to the theatre, didn’t you? But I’m not sure that’s quite the act you’d want to put on.” Terrible. Pure terrible.

“He’s no idea why we’re laughing at him. Oh to be a cat. Nothing better to do with your days than lounge in sun patches and be stroked adoringly. What us wizards can only dream of.” Cepheus pulled his legs up onto the sofa beside him, drawing his feet beneath him. He propped his arm against the back of the sofa and turned away from Claude for better angle of conversation with Virgil.

“You’ve not met anyone that flexible of late, then?” He asked, with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow.