12 February 2012, 11:30pm
107b South Side, Diagon Alley
Directly following 12 Feb 2012 - Some Blood in the Cut

A tall young witch with a coat draped over her shoulders appeared on the cold dark street in front of number 107. She hurried up to a mint green door with the furtiveness of tabby clearing out of the way of a cart. Waverly tried the door handle hoping to gain entry to the staircase that led up to the first floor but it was locked. Of course it was locked. It was the middle of the night and the flat had been burglarized last year. A sob caught in her throat. There was no way Terrence Hooker could have followed her past the break of Apparition but her gut suspected the violent vampire in every shadow. She wanted to beat the door in, but she wasn't about to wake the entire bloody building knocking on the door.

Waverly stepped off the pavement onto the cobblestones and moved her gaze up the building. She knitted together her shredded resolve and made note of the gutters, footholds, and window ledges. She didn't remember which windows belonged to Virgil Carstairs, but if she could get up there she could figure it out. This was what she'd practiced so hard for in her last years at school, a way of finding some control over her body in those awkward times, and a way to feel some sort of security after her mum was attacked by a werewolf. She could do this.

Then, after a deep breath, Waverly accessed the magic of an Animagus. She closed her eyes and slid away into the form of a long, lithe, spotted wildcat: a big-eared, short-tailed serval. A sharp beastie, and agile. Her wand, her clothes, they were all preserved someplace magically near - but the fractures in her hand persisted (as did the angry bite on her neck). Quick as a wink with a shudder of hesitation, she scaled the building favoring her damaged limb. There were some scrabbling slips and some shaking steps, but soon she was on the wide window ledges twenty feet off the ground. She found Virgil's window; a small light identified his room beyond the curtains.

Waverley began scratching at the window frame. She felt like an idiot.

It was Sunday evening, and Virgil Carstairs was sat up in bed in his periwinkle pyjamas, taking notes in a work journal for the next morning.

He was thoroughly absorbed, visualising his tasks in the Brain Room on nine and pausing accordingly to quickly note precautions to be taken - his skill meant that he cooperated with the fully trained Unspeakables studying mind magic, and he was pressed to be thoroughly prepared so that they wouldn't find reason to exclude him from all the interesting projects. His blonde head bowed over the book, nothing stirred.

Any other weekend he would have started working earlier but Saturday night[1] had rather filled his thoughts since he left Ceph's place, walking home in the cool evening air with the stupidest, giggliest smile nobody will ever see.

And then he'd spoken to Ari in the morning. Ari, who was brilliant, and whose condition to his news ("Don't bring him back here..."[2]) was also brilliant. Only, one couldn't avoid work forever.

Virgil was just sticking his quill behind his ear when he heard the noise. A distinct scratching. He glanced up from his cross writing, first at Dante - the white cat was dozing on on top of the wardrobe, tail twitching. His gaze flicked to the window then, and he tossed his journal aside in a panic.

"Waverly!" the wizard exclaimed, reaching over to unlatch the window. Why hadn't she owled ahead?

1.	11th Feb - The Sight of the Stars Always Makes Me Dream
2.	Ty Kit!

Waverly tumbled into Virgil's room and in a second she was on her two feet again. She paced Virgil's rugs holding her hand to her chest and gritting her teeth against tears. The transfiguration in and out had moved the bones and the climb hadn't helped. It was so odd, said a voice in the back of her mind, that the body was more upset over a broken hand than a bite in the neck. Under her collar the bite showed it had been unwilling.

"Virgil," she said, her voice a cracked whisper, "Virgil, it's broken. You have to f-f-fix it. My hand."

She'd last seen Virgil two days ago; she'd slid 'round to his family's palace to show off.[1] That night she'd presented him her left hand, its wrist clean but marked. Now she presented him her right, bruised and swelling, first two fingers twisted in spasm.

So fixed was Waverly's mind on the immediate space around her, she hadn't even looked at Virgil. She didn't see his blue pajamas or the evidence on his bed that he'd been working. She hadn't checked to see if he was alone or if the door was open or anything. Once she noticed that she hadn't noticed, Waverly suddenly looked up and around to find Virgil's room sealed and the panic on his face.

There it was again. The shame she felt whenever she needed anything. As surely as she'd pulled the rope herself, the curtain had come down.

1.	10 Feb 2012 - The Less We Know

"Your hand!" he exclaimed softly as she proffered the wretched sight, concern forming on his pale brow. "Sit, try not to move it too much." Virgil pushed aside the rest of the junk on his bedcover - more books, ink bottles, one of Dante's string toys, a half-finished bowl of crisps.

Was it her Muse dealer? Had he found out that she got caught by MLE? The blonde plucked his wand, which was tucked behind his other ear, and sat down on her right side, concentrating. She was in pain; questions later. He slipped his hand beneath her broken one,  pressing his lips together. Good thing they were rather used to mending bones on Mysteries.

 His gaze flicked up, and he was about to tell her that he was going to begin - but then he saw it. The blood on her neck. Virgil forced his eyes back down, swallowing. "It doesn't look shattered, I can do it," his voice was steady as he gingerly touched the tip of his want to her knuckle. "Episkey!"

Virgil stopped himself from flinching at the the little clicks andsnaps, the twisted phalanges fixing back into place. He drew back, breathing out through his mouth.

"Don't move it too suddenly," he said before looking back up at her, his free hand reaching out to sweep some curls behind her neck. "Vampires." Virgil knew how to put two and two together, quickly, but he wasn't going to jump to assumptions just yet.

And he was trying very hard to keep to his (frequently ignored) no-looking-into-heads-willy-nilly rule. "Alright, Roh-Ballentyne," something that was almost a smile, touched by worry, pulled at his lips. He drew back his hand. The voice he used was the same one with which he often drawled, reminiscent of late nights playing cards in the Slytherin common room. Once upon a time.

"What kind of night have you been having?"

Waverly sucked air in through her teeth as Virgil's healing magic did its work. The spell burned at first, then the bones moved on their own to find their homes again. In a matter of seconds the bones were knitting and her hand was ice cold. She chanced a slow flexing of her fingers before Virgil saw the bite on her neck. She let him look. Now they matched. What did it mean to have been bitten by the same fangs, she wondered. Maybe it made them family.

Virgil became Virgil again and for just a moment, things were simple and stupid. They'd all wanted to get out of school so badly then. Less than a year later and here they were, playing games with vampires.

She tilted her head to one side and gave him a weary withering look. "Not great, V."

Waverly looked back down at her hand, slowly opening it wide and splaying her fingers. Carefully, she brought her thumb around her middle finger and pulled it into a gentle pop. She didn't know what to tell Virgil. To piece out what happened, to slice them into words, felt dangerous. Both literally dangerous, but also in the way an incantation gives a spell life. 

"He found out," she said lifting her eyebrows. "He found out my parents knew.."

For a moment it looked like she was going to cry, but then her face went ashen like stone.

He found out.

Virgil, who hated to feel afraid, who worked still on the same floor on which he had been left for dead,  refused to let the vampire go unnamed. Names were power but also believed that how you said and used a name mattered. Can you face a fear if you don't name it?

"Hooker found out," he said more to himself, nodding slowly, grip tightening on his wand. "Bad night." Waverly looked like she was on the verge of breaking down; like she should be in pieces and was holding herself together on sheer will power.

He remembered how he had simply caved-in on himself in December, when Yavin showed up[1] to help. All it took was a moment of every awful thing that ever happened to you living in your mind at the same time...and suddenly you don't want to exist anymore. You become grief.

Virgil got up, going to his dresser and taking out a muslin handkerchief. "Here," he had to act, that was the bottom line. "I'm going to clean that, Wav, and have a look at it alright?"

The wizard returned, though not before dipping the cloth into the glass of water on his bedside table. He wondered how Hooker found out about Waverly being caught, but now wasn't the time.

"I know exactly what to do," Virgil touched her chin, gently nudging it up so that he could reach the wound. "You don't have to even think about it right now, just exist, it's fine," he murmured, telling her the things he wished he could go back in time to tell himself.

1.	4th December - It's the Freakiest Show

"No."

Suddenly, Waverly slapped at Virgil. Not a panicked flailing, but a sharp deflection. His touch on her chin, his attention approaching her neck, it was too close. She kept her hands up for a moment, holding her space. Then, she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. It was very hard to open her eyes again. It was that unwelcome haze she'd felt after her first bite making her eyelids so heavy. She could have stayed frozen like that, hands up.

'Just exist,' Virgil had suggested, giving her permission to not think about it. That she could do. After a moment, she opened her eyes and lowered her hands. She shrugged off her coat and moved her hair more fully out of the way as to allow Virgil near again. She spared a moment appreciate his naive confidence in knowing exactly what to do, but, indeed, it was What He Knew that was why she'd come.

Dante, white and quiet, seemed like she was sleeping, but her ears were awake and attentive. Waverly focused on her gentle breathing.

"I lied to Hooker," she said quietly. "I told him I didn't tell anybody."

She'd been halfway aware of it then when she'd stammered out the lie over and over. Maybe it didn't matter that she had, or if Hooker suspected or not, or if it was part of their agreement. It was her Ministry parents who'd got her in trouble, but it was Virgil who she'd told.

Virgil didn't need telling twice, pulling back and holding still - the way he did when his little brother Cecil would throw a tantrum as a little boy and kick at anyone who tried to calm him down with a hug. No touching, fine, he waited patiently with the cloth in one hand while she pulled herself together. Maybe she was stronger than he had been, maybe they were just different.

He knew Waverly hated to be known, so he let her do what she had to do, and inched closer once she had taken off her coat.

            "I lied to Hooker. I told him I didn't tell anybody."

"Well that wasn't very clever of you," Virgil muttered, shaking his head as he used the cloth to wipe the crusted blood off her neck. "Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone. Not exactly break room gossip, Wav."

Not that anyone needed to know what passed for break room gossip amongst Unspeakables. A small part of him was suddenly aware that he had to tread carefully; he was dating Cepheus now. Head of Being Division. He couldn't keep playing it dicey with the vampires, what if those interactions crossed?

"What else did Hooker say? Where did this happen?" Clearly Wav wanted to talk - Virgil had to adjust his expectation, to be what she needed him to be right now.

Breakroom gossip. On any other day, Waverly would never think of her friends as Ministry or any of them threats to Terrence Hooker. They were all just kids with jobs, and even so, Virgil worked on the Department of Mysteries. She believed Virgil wouldn't tell anyone; she just had to acknowledge he carried a few of her secrets now. She hoped they wouldn't get too heavy for him.

"Well that wasn't very clever of you," Virgil said and Waverly sniffed. Sassy pratt. Virgil went on with some tidy questions, posed calmly. It felt for the tiniest moment she was at the salon, chatting with a stylist. What else had Hooker said, Virgil asked. Where did it happen?

Hooker's voice was clear in her mind. "Keep your head down and your mouth shut, bloodbag. Or I'll be seeing you again." He'd said it when he was done, his words penetrating the delirium. They'd need to be Obliviated for her to ever forget the threat.

"Not much," Waverly lied easily. She heard her voice and was surprised at how steady it sounded. Muffled, though, like it wasn't hers.

"He was in my flat when I got home. Gabby wasn't in. At her dad's I think."

Virgil's cool cloth felt nice on her neck. She paid attention to the rhythm of it.

"There was someone with him," she said, wrinkling her eyebrows. "Another vampire, I think. A man."

She couldn't remember now if she'd even seen him, or if the only way she'd known he was there was because Hooker had spoken to him. Her entire mind's eye was covered by Hooker. She felt her throat close up.

With each swipe off the damp cloth, more of the blood came off. Virgil frowned to himself as he worked at it, thoughts elsewhere - Hooker had gone to her flat? He really wasn't fooling around was he? Although the wizard wouldn't say so out loud, he followed the logic easily: some secrets had to stay secret, at any cost if you were a species so hated by the general public.

            "There was someone with him. Another vampire, I think. A man."

"But the other one didn't do anything?" he  asked, crumpling up the soiled handkerchief and studying the angry red bites in Waverly's neck. "Hooker's coven leader, I suppose he doesn't just prance about by himself."

He seemed like the kind of man who had an entourage. Or perhaps just someone who knew the significance of strength in numbers. Virgil knew what they had to do after this - he resisted the impulse to barrel through from one step to the next; seeing the blood on her neck had plunged him back into his own feelings about Hooker.

They were all broken people trying to help each other.

"Do you need more time?" he asked, deciding to be clear instead of assuming what Waverly wanted. "Here, I mean? This needs a healer to, just so we know that you won't turn." A dry, sardonic little smile suddenly twitched at the corners of his lips. "As beautiful a vampire as I think you would make."

The salon feeling endured for another moment more, Virgil and Waverly having a great deal of vampire content to discuss between them. They had friends in common, matching scars, and isn't that just like Terrence to bring along a plus-one without asking?

"No, he just stood there," Waverly muttered. Virgil finished with her neck and the strange scenario was broken. Dante had moved and Waverly hadn't noticed. It was like time skipped a beat. Waverly turned and looked at Virgil. She saw him in fragments, his eyes, mouth, hands, hair. He looked young and she felt gross. She ran a finger over her eyelid. Her make-up was crusty from when she'd been crying.  Virgil smiled, made a joke.

"I'd eat you up," she agreed.

But even as she returned the flirt, Waverly was reaching for her coat. Wherever she would end up tonight, it wasn't going to St. Mungo's any sooner than the morgue. Virgil wouldn't put her out, Waverly knew that, but she didn't want a fight either. She was tired.

"No healers," she said without affect. But tightness in her throat pulled the corners of her mouth down. "No one can find out."

 

He sighed, looking at Waverly with clear eyes.

Virgil understood why she was acting like this - for all her toughness Wav was terrified of Hooker making a return. It would be hypocritical of him to think she was playing it reckless but she was, of course, playing it reckless. They weren't the same, though. He had a net of people to catch him when he flew too close to the sun. He was both the luckiest and unluckiest wizard.

What did it say about his friend that he was the person she resorted to tonight?

"I don't mean St.Mungo's," he watched as Dante hopped down from the wardrobe and walked up to the bed with her tail high in the air. "The Healer who treated me, we can go to her place. It'll be off the record."

At least Virgil hoped he could convince Athena as much anyway. While they weren't exactly friends, they were still friendly; he was helping her with her Occlumency after all.

The blonde leaned down, picking up his purring white cat. "We'll have to figure out how Hooker found out, too. Did your mums tell anyone?"

Virgil knew a Healer, a proper one. If Virgil had seen that Healer and had earned no house call from Terrence Hooker, that satisfied Waverly to some degree. A nibble at the coven on the wrist with all the rules hadn't scared her as far as her soul was concerned, but an ambush without guardrails was a step over the edge. What if Hooker had taken more than he should have? What if this cavernous blankness sitting cold in her gut was the beginning of eternity?

Great, now she felt sick.

      "Did your mums tell anyone?" Virgil asked.

"Obviously," Waverly scoffed. "They can't help themselves going ballistic."

A werewolf hunter and an Auror. Waverly had stayed in Iona and Zora's protective eyeline long enough to calm them down, but she'd been naive to assume that just because they weren't talking to her that they'd dropped the topic. They never dropped anything. The thought had crossed Waverly's mind that they were just worried and scared for their only daughter and that everything they did, they did out of love. But Waverly was nineteen and invincible, wasn't she?

If her mothers actually had kept on investigating and found their way to Camden, Waverly had to doubt Terrence would have settled for a warning.

She stood up and pulled on her coat, making adjustments to her curly hair over the collar.

"Alright. I'll see your Healer," Waverly said with a fortifying breath in and out.