Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Magic folk born to magic parents were exposed to magic from a very young age. A tired mother might use magic to make washing the dishes a little easier, conjuring a sponge that would do the scrubbing, so long as she left the water running.  A child would begin to learn the very basics of magic. First and foremost, what everything was. Such as the wand sometimes given to the child to help them to, at first, better channel their magic – at the same time they learned to read and write their first language. 

A magic child would learn magic alongside arithmetic and science. They’d attend non-magic school and receive magic lessons at home. 

They’d learn that the existence of their magic was to be kept a secret. They may be given a special kind of tea to sip over the course of the day to keep their magic at bay, until they learned to have enough control over their magic to keep it inactive until needed. The only exception to such control was, of course, instances of lower inhibition, such as drunkenness or the expression of extreme emotions (which could be related to alcohol). 

A magic child born to a non-magic family typically followed one of three paths. One, the child is abandoned. Put up for adoption or simply cast out of the house as soon as evidence of their magic is shown (frightening the parents), which typically occurs at an extremely young age. After all, babies experience many extreme emotions, having needs they cannot meet themselves and caretakers that can’t always understand the meanings of their cries. And so, things may shake, fall, shatter... Frightening to people who have never been exposed to such a thing. 

Two, raised without knowledge of their abilities. Raised on calming tea brewed by a magic user. For when the child had shown their first displays of magic, the parents hadn’t been overly freaked out. Understandably freaked out, certainly, but they’d sought out and found a solution. Even if they had to give up some of their blood and keep a secret until they took their dying breath, it was a better alternative. 

Lastly, magic school. A place that taught concepts needed to survive and thrive in the non-magic world, but also those needed to thrive as a magic user. A place as private as a boarding school – functioned exactly like one, actually – and as shrouded in secrets as a cult in a tiny, no-name town. 

Typically, this option was chosen by people who had knowledge of the world of magic. People who maybe had no magic themselves – such as a child born to a half magic family whose magic simply remained dormant, never activated – but knew what to expect when it came to raising a child with magic. It was just better to have someone qualified to teach a child how to use their magic, when, with no magic, you weren’t often invited to sit in on the magic lessons. 

Magic parents with non-magic and magic children didn’t often see the merit in having the non-magic child sit in on magic lessons. After all, the belief was that non-magic folk couldn’t do magic. Not without fancy ceremony and magical enhancements provided by an actual magic user. 

But with a high enough magic blood percentage – say, 50% - magic was possible. Magic still coursed through the person’s veins, but it was inactive. It was simply like the water in blood, carrying the nutrients along. 

But it could be activated. Not to the full extent of power as the magic of a magic user, but the person could perform the simplest of spells. Too complex, and they may find themselves passing out from weakness. 

And so, a non-magic child could easily train alongside a magic child up to a point. From there, the non-magic child could learn about obscure magic lore, such as the piece of lore that said that they could still activate the magic in their blood.  

Magical blood percentage meant magic was in the blood, whether or not the magic was activated. Like a recessive gene on a chromosome, if biology metaphors are your thing. 

*** 

Vampires were – and perhaps this sounds cruel – either born or made. There was no difference between the two, other than the circumstances of their vampirism. 

The first vampire was, as Greek mythology tells it (and this is what magic scholars believe. Influenced by the Greek philosopher, Aristotle, who had magic works to his name unknown to the non-magic folk), an Italian adventurer named Ambrogio, who had made deals with gods Artemis and Hades and had angered both Artemis and her brother, Apollo, in the name of his love to a maiden of the Oracle, Selene, now known as the moon goddess and the mother of vampires. For when her blood mixed with Ambrogio’s, the first vampires were officially created. 

Like with magic blood, vampire blood could be passed through families. Vampire blood could lie dormant, even at fifty percent, but unlike magic blood, it could not be activated. 

Magic folk don’t, personally, know much about vampire lore, for magic folk tend to want to stay out of their way. No one knows what happens to a magic user turned by a vampire. There’s the belief that those who had didn’t live to tell the tale. But perhaps they were just ashamed to return to their people and admit what happened, instead opting to stay with the vampire coven/community, who could better understand the hunger curling in their belly that only blood would satisfy, without viewing them as a monster or a disgrace to society. 

Magic folk couldn't tell you that vampires lived similarly to non-magic folk, with the aid of enchantments. Enchantments such as those on a pair of sunglasses that could one, hide the vampire’s blood-red eyes, and two, prevent their skin from breaking out in hives upon exposure to the sun. Enchantments perhaps provided by a magic user long ago or one more recently made by a magic-folk friend.  

Raising animals or adopting animals from a shelter only to snap their neck despite the many years they may have had left to live to gather up the blood for storage and later drinking. Or perhaps befriending a human or magic user who would willingly give up a little bit of their blood every couple of days.  

Learning to live in a way that didn't tip any non-magic folk off. Insisting they had a life-threatening allergy to garlic, which was basically the truth. Insisting that their red eyes were from irritation to the sun – because they “had an allergy to that, too, just a minor one. And no, they weren't a vampire. Could a vampire do this?” After which, they pull out a faux-silver cross they always carry on their person, because silver could burn their skin, yes, but faux-silver would not. Nor did “the power of Christ compel" them and all that demonic possession jazz. Because vampires weren't demons.  

As for made vampires, the term used by the community is “turned.” Turned into a vampire by the venom from a vampire’s blood. Which raises the question, surely, “Then where did the media portrayal of a vampire biting a person's neck come from?” 

It is the common method of turning a vampire. If the vampire happened to seduce the other person, kisses could be exchanged, and the vampire’s lip could easily be bitten hard enough to draw blood. And if the vampire bit down a little deeper, let their blood coat their fangs, and sunk those bloody fangs deep into the soft, salty skin of the person's neck... Blood mixes with tainted blood. And once something is tainted, it courses through the bloodstream.  

The changes begin slowly. It's almost subtle. After all, vampires don't instantly catch on fire when they step into the sun, and garlic doesn't burn a hole through their throat when consumed.  

It's easier when the vampire stays to guide the person along. But many don't. And so, they have to find a coven that will take them in and teach them the things they would never have had the chance to learn growing up.  

It's not usually the turned vampires who turn other vampires. 

And it's a commonly-known vampire fact that magic blood tainted with alcohol tastes sweetest. More potent with magic perhaps.  

But magic folk don't know all that. 

Chapter Text

As mentioned before, a person’s magic is more out of control when they are more emotional. When one is a baby, their emotions are high, because there is so much going on around them that they are unfamiliar with. But there’s a second time in a human’s life that emotions are at a high: puberty. 

But with control over their magic, a pubescent teen isn’t going to shatter objects unknowingly. Instead, any magic is going to be subtle. They’ll have enough control over their magic because of their training that the magic produced by their emotions will only result in something small. 

For many, this means something as simple and small as their ears being noticeably pointier: easily tucked away beneath a beanie or a hoodie. For others, it means a little animal fuzz, instead of body hair, on patches of their skin. 

For Janus Mourier, it was the appearance of a forked tongue. This wasn’t as easily hidden away. And no matter what he or his family tried, they couldn’t make it disappear permanently. They learned to tuck it under magical glamours. 

Then, it was an itching of the left side of his face. His parents told him it was just acne, and they tried both magic and non-magic remedies to get the itching to go down, to lighten the red of that half of his face. But neither had an effect, and soon, the red side of his face was turning green. 

Not much later, the green turned to shimmering, green scales. And the scales, too, didn’t permanently go away. The scales, too, needed to be hidden under a glamour. 

And then, his magic seemed to weaken. Spells were much harder for him to cast during his training. Even the simplest ones that his non-gifted-with-magic twin could do without ceremony, Janus couldn’t do without feeling the weakness associated with him having no magic at all. 

It was only then that his parents came to the conclusion that these changes weren’t associated with their son’s puberty. That these changes wouldn’t go away when all that was said and done with. That, at some point, their thirteen-year-old son had been cursed. 

And soon enough was his first transformation to a full snake form. And damn, if that didn’t scare the hell out of all of them. 

The family had to quickly learn how to live with a snake under their roof. 

What did snakes eat? How much did they have to feed it? Would their son turn back, or was he doomed to be a snake forever?  

Janus spent a couple weeks as a snake before his first reversion back to his human form. And he was just as relieved as his family that he was back. 

They all spent months poring over magic books and consulting experts on curses to figure out how they might continue to deal with the curse. Janus and Patton Mourier – unbeknownst to their parents – tried to take on the mystery of figuring out who could have done it. 

But there were many candidates. Janus wasn’t exactly the most well-liked person at their middle school. Some kids were terrified by his edgy aesthetic. Others were jealous of his intelligence: the fact that he was at the top of the class even though he didn't seem to give a damn about school. 

And there was no telling how many of the kids or teachers at their school had magic. It wasn’t something they went around broadcasting. Even if they didn’t have to worry about a repeat of the Witch Trials, they weren’t about to go broadcasting it. They still had a bad rep in many pieces of media. They weren’t about to put themselves in danger. 

There was no way for Janus and Patton to know if the curse had been cast with or without ceremony. (Though a curse with ceremony would have required the caster to collect a piece of Janus’s DNA – a fingernail clipping, a thread of hair, etc. - to aim the curse at a specific target.) There was no way for them to know if someone had slipped a potion into Janus’s food or drink – and didn’t that open up the pool of targets even wider.   

Janus just learned to live with his curse. He learned to live with the use of a magic wand for spells such as the glamour that concealed his tongue and face, because it was the only way he could perform such simple charms without feeling faint. He learned to live with a transformation approximately once a month, like he was some kind of were-snake. 

He learned to live with elongated incisors and a heightened sense of smell. He learned to live with the hiss that would escape his lips if he felt angry or threatened. 

He learned to live with the fact that his twin brother and parents were the only people he’d probably ever keep in his life (so what was the damage in pushing others away? As if anyone would dare get close to him with the edgy aesthetic he maintained). 

He stopped treating it as some problem that needed to be fixed and instead as a part of his identity. He reframed his life to work around it. He used a glamour when he needed to go out in public. He used a glamour when he dealt with the customers in his shop, years after the curse had been inflicted upon him. He took classes online as soon as he was able. 

He wasn’t upfront about his curse, but he found people who learned about it and decided to stay, anyway. Because they didn’t mind that part of him. And they wanted to be around when he struggled with that part of him. 

And Merlin, if he didn’t love them for that. 

Merlin, if he didn’t love how Logan Aster took in his world with bright blue eyes and how Logan Aster stayed with him through all the ugly moments because he could see the goodness in Janus’s heart that had been pushed aside by the curse. 

And Merlin, if he didn’t love Logan Aster with his whole, cursed heart. 

Chapter Text

The magic world was connected in that someone knew someone who knew someone else who could get you something or do something for you. It was this web of connections that ensured that Virgil and Janus, once they started their respective businesses while they were still students in high school, maintained a successful business: always having customers come in for services. It was also this web of connections that made places like the magic dark web thrive. 

The magic dark web was dark in the sense that many of its participants were looking into more “evil” methods of magic or artifacts. But again, someone knew someone who knew someone who could get or do that thing. 

It was a place where discussions were held about various aspects of dark magic - where new dark curses were theorized, if you happened to dig a little too deep. It was easy to get a little too deep into the magic dark web. And if you reeked of innocence (innocence of being unfamiliar with the inner workings of the magic dark web or innocence in regards to seeming like a complete angel, an optimist, when those in the dark web seemed to know only the cruelties of life), it was easy for someone to find you and try to trick you into going that deep and getting involved in detrimental deals with others who had gotten into detrimental deals with forces much scarier than the darkest of magic folk. 

It was easy to stumble into the dark web on accident, but very hard to get there on purpose, unless you’d done it enough times or you had someone experienced to guide you through it. Patton didn’t have anyone to help him. He knew that this was a thing that he had to do on his own. He couldn’t tell anyone about his attempt to reach out to someone on the magic dark web. His parents would revoke every privilege he had until he was an old man with wrinkled skin and thin, white hair. Janus would want to protect him, as if Patton wasn’t secretly the kind of person who looked like a cinnamon roll but could kill you. 

He kept that part of himself hidden pretty well. He hated lying, but sometimes it was necessary. Sometimes you needed to keep others happy by letting them believe a lie about you, he believed. 

And even if Janus seemed to be an expert at reading others and Patton, especially, Patton was able to keep things hidden from his twin, even if he was constantly biting his tongue almost to the point of drawing blood. 

He was able to keep hidden things like his first foray into the magic dark web where he learned that the alias “Pattycake” was only asking for trouble, only led sinister forces to flock to him. Things like his first shout into the void that was the dark web: a question about curses that were animalistic in nature. 

He didn’t know what kind of answers he was expecting to his question. He knew that no one would rat out if any of them had cast the curse on his brother. His question wasn’t framed in a way that would get him step-by-step instructions on how to cast such a curse, fortunately. None of the few answers he received were helpful, but he supposed that was his fault for not including all the specifics of the situation. But he wasn’t about to do that, because it was still the magic  dark  web. They could track him down if they really wanted to try. 

And when Patton’s phone, one day during study hall in his sophomore year of high school, pinged with a text from an unknown number that looked like it was typed in some kind of strange code, he truly feared that they had tracked him down. He turned white as a sheet and fled from the room without his stuff, only to go into a stall of the nearest restroom and sink to the floor on trembling legs. 

He tried to puzzle out the code blurred by the anxious tears in his eyes. But it seemed to make no sense. No letter seemed to stand for the same letter the next time it appeared. Symbols were interspersed and appeared to take the place of a letter that was... Patton could only think to describe it as opposite the letter it might usually stand for. For example, every zero was an X instead of an O. 

He couldn’t puzzle it out on the floor of the bathroom. He had to wait until he got home and crawled into the closet in his room in which he still fit somehow, with all his souvenirs and sentimental objects littering the floor and the clothes hanging on the rack overhead, with a notebook, baby blue pen, and a flame conjured on a single finger to decipher the code that had plagued his mind that whole day. 

And for all its complexity, it had turned out to be a simple message: “I want to learn more. If you’re comfy, call me at...” and then a number that was different from the one that had sent him the text. The number that sent the text probably was a burner phone that the person used specifically when communicating with someone from the magic dark web. They seemed smart enough to know exactly what to do to stay safe. 

“How do I know I can trust you?” Patton texted the number given to him. 

How old are you?  

How old are *you*?  

Do you talk in circles all the time?  

I don’t want any trouble. I just want answers  

And I want to help. So tell me how old you are so I know I’m not getting involved with a pedo 

Merlin, no, I’m not a pedo. I’m fifteen  

What are you doing on the dark web?  

I’m also fifteen  

What are *you* doing on the dark web?  

I feel at home there  

Anyway, would you be up for letting me see the effects of the curse in person? That would help me be able to narrow down the specific nature of the curse  

Idk... because I’m not the one with the curse. And they don’t know I’m doing this  

Are they our age?  

Yeah  

So say you met me and thought them and I could be great friends  

You don’t know where I live  

I know your area code. That narrows it down  

Oh  cracker jacks  

We can meet in a neutral place  

But pls just say fuck  

That’s a bad word!  

We’re fifteen. Most of us are watching porn, and the language in that isn’t friendly  

Ah! That’s gross!  

Don’t tell me you’re regretting reaching out to me  

You reached out to me  

But it’s fine. I can get used to this  

Especially if you want to be my brother’s friend  

Just a friend? 👀  

That’s up to him and you. You have to meet him first  

But don’t tell him about how we met  

And if you know how to help him, pls do  

My family and I figured something out, but...  

I don’t want him to stay cursed forever  

Let me know where you want to meet up, and I can come to you  

Are you far away from me?  

We have the same area code  

Oh haha okay  

Can you drive?  

Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Just send me the addy and get him there tomorrow  

Oh. Tomorrow? That’s soon  

That a problem?  

Well no but  

But?  

Nothing. It’s fine  

Patton didn’t need to think of what address to send this person whose name he didn’t realize he never asked. It would be easier for them to meet with Janus in Janus’s shop. It would automatically eliminate any possibility of this person not being a magic folk like them and make a friendship easier to develop. Patton just had to hope the two were actually compatible. And that this fifteen-year-old boy could help Janus. 

*** 

“Tell me about yourself so I can tell my brother about you,” Patton demanded, not unkindly, when he met the boy with a huge floof of dark, curly hair, clothing that Patton hoped was only artfully – intentionally – torn to shreds, and smudges of dirt on his exposed patches of tan skin outside of the coffeeshop that housed Janus’s shop. 

“Remus, he/him,” the other boy said, holding out a dirty hand for Patton to shake. Patton tried not to think bad thoughts about where that hand could have been as he shook it with a beam on his lips. 

“Patton,” he responded. “Also he/him.” He and Remus walked into the coffeeshop, then, Remus prattling on about all the things he was interested in. A lot of things which Patton had to fight against turning his lips down at. 

Remus didn’t want to go to college. He was content with only a high school diploma. He didn’t care if he was a janitor or one of those other undervalued - “they  are  undervalued. They do a lot of work. But no one appreciates it because they don’t have a diploma” - jobs. He didn’t care if he had to work his way up the hierarchy of a fast food chain, starting at minimum wage worker. He didn’t care if he found a job specifically in the magic world that didn’t pay the same way a job in the non-magic world did. 

He liked learning about dark magic even if he never wanted to implement it, because he found that it silenced the voices in his head that told him he should kill his twin while he was sleeping or he should drive his car into the ocean – even if the ocean was a far drive away from their town. 

“I didn’t know you had a twin, too! Can I meet him?” Patton interrupted to ask. Remus’s answer was a very quick “no.” And Patton could sense the defensiveness, so he didn’t press. 

When Patton felt he’d learned enough about Remus and had shared some information about Janus (and himself) with Remus, he declared that they were ready to go down and meet Janus. Remus followed Patton with his head held high. Patton led with shaking hands and legs. 

“Hey Jan!” Patton called out as he descended the steps, praying that his voice didn’t shake. “I have someone here I’d like you to meet!” 

“You’ve got to stop trying to set me up with people, Patton,” Janus said as he approached the counter at the front of his shop. Patton, with Remus behind him, met Janus at the counter. “I know you don’t exactly approve of Virgil, but he’s all I need.” 

“Not to date! I know you’re happy with Virgil.” Remus had no idea who Virgil was. “Just another friend for the two of you. This is Remus.” Patton gestured at the boy behind him. The boy in question donned a grin that looked manic as he waved. “I met him...” They hadn’t planned this part out. 

“We met here, actually,” Remus chimed in. “Rather, upstairs. And I’m always looking for a new friend – extrovert, you know? - and your brother seems to be the same way. But when we got to talking, he realized that he and I wouldn’t get along as friends but that maybe, you and I would. So we arranged to have him take me down here so I could formally meet you.” Janus poked his tongue out of his mouth like he could taste any sort of lie in the air. Or maybe like he was able to sense, in this way, if Remus smelled like any sort of threat to him or Patton. 

“And I assume my brother would only bring you down here to my shop if he prepared you for taking a blood oath?” Janus asked. 

“Don’t need a blood oath if you’re magic folk,” Remus said as he conjured a bright green flame in the palm of his hand with a series of mumbling, a flourish of said hand, and his eyes squeezed shut. Patton instinctually held his hand over the flame with a series of his own mutterings, his own eyes squeezed shut so he couldn’t see – only feel – the droplets of water plinking from his hand onto the flame.  

He opened his eyes with a heavy, exhausted sigh once the sensation stopped. The flame was gone. Only smoke remained. Remus looked devastated, so Patton quickly donned a sheepish, apologetic look, rubbing his now-wet hand on the back on his neck. 

Janus sighed for a different reason. “Come on back,” he said begrudgingly. He stepped forward so he could help Patton, who was suddenly more unsteady on his feet, make it to the back of the shop. Janus settled him into a chair at the table in the back room. Remus stood off to the side. Janus kept an ear open for whatever Remus might decide to do as he grabbed Patton a glass of water and a box of crackers from his office. 

But he came back to Remus exactly as he left him. “You can sit,” Janus told Remus, gesturing to the only other chair at the table, next to Patton. “If my brother trusts you – even though I say he does so far too easily – I can trust you. At least for now.” Janus set the water and crackers down in front of Patton and tapped his shoulder in a way that Patton knew meant “eat and drink up.” “Tell me about yourself, if we’re meant to be friends.” 

So, Remus did. And Janus listened intently, even as he occasionally peeked over at his twin to check on him.  

Magic took a lot out of Patton sometimes. Janus didn’t bother trying to do magic anymore. Not without the wand he would deny he used. But that was only on the rare occasion he actually decided to try to access his weakened magical core. 

When Remus finished talking about himself, Janus introduced himself properly and told Remus about himself, in turn. Meanwhile, Patton watched, happy that they seemed to be getting along. Janus was much more receptive than Patton had expected him to be. He hoped that was a good sign. 

*** 

We try to track when he’s going to turn the same way my mom tracks her period but for j.j. it’s not exactly a month  

We don’t know what makes it longer or shorter  

So if he ever turns unexpectedly, be prepared  

Bc he won’t know beforehand and idk if he’s actually told you about it  

I might’ve pestered him with the question about the scales on his face until he did  

You can see them?  

I’m immune to glamours for some reason  

Is that actually a thing?  

For me. Idk anyone else who’s like that  

Is that why you first went on the dark web? To find out?  

Nah. I don’t question the powers that be or whatever. It’s usually not a bad thing, anyway  

It can be?  

Everything can be  

Oh. No wonder you and j.j. get along  

Yeah, you’re sickeningly optimistic. You’re lucky I don’t enjoy the sensation of vomiting  

What?  

Sorry  

It’s ok! :)

It’s okay if it’s not. I know my thoughts disturb you  

I can be okay with them for j.j.’s  sake  

Does Virgil like you? I know his opinion is important to j.j.  

I’m working on it. The boy has a stick up his ass and he’s all overprotective and shit  

You’re not picking fights with him, are you?  

I’m not trying to  

Express interest in his business. Maybe that’ll help  

And if it doesn’t?  

J.j. can pick his own friends, and he likes you  

I’m working on that, too  

You don’t think he likes you?  

He won’t fully like me until Virgil does. Or unless I do something that makes him like me to the point that it trumps Virgil’s opinion  

Do you have any ideas?  

Do *you*?  

No  

Great  

So what? We just play it by ear?  

Idk. Virgil can’t hate you forever. That would be too mean  

I think he could  

He won’t. We’ll figure something out  

They didn’t have to be the ones to figure something out. The forces that be, as Remus would call them, plopped an opportunity into Remus’s lap. 

Remus, Virgil, and Janus were lucky that Remus had been running late to meet up with Virgil and Janus at Janus’s shop before they went to the local skate park.  

Remus was the only one who knew how to skate, and it must have been a miracle that when he mentioned it to Virgil and Janus offhandedly one day, Virgil mentioned in return how he’d been wanting to learn for a while. Remus naturally jumped on the chance to offer to teach him. And Janus, naturally, had to come along to make sure a fight didn’t break out. 

But their plans were derailed when, as Remus was driving over to the coffeeshop, he got a text from Virgil’s number. And Virgil never texted him, so he knew it was serious. 

He pulled off to the side of the road so he and Virgil could have a lengthy discussion. With anyone else, he would have called them, but he knew that phone calls made Virgil anxious. Virgil may not have liked him, but Remus wanted to earn his way into his good graces. Remus wanted to be friends with both him  and  Janus. 

Remus had never committed a crime in the name of friendship before, but that didn’t mean he was incapable of sneaking into the back door of a butcher shop that he had to turn around to stop at and smuggle a whole, fat pig carcass into the back of his car, then shoot off with no regard that he was breaking speeding laws and could get his license suspended for years because he was a minor. That didn’t mean he couldn’t smuggle said heavy pig into Janus’s shop through a back door he had scoped out a while ago, just to be led by Virgil into the back room where a large, green snake with one brown, human eye and one yellow, snake eye lay wrapped in on itself on top of the table. 

The snake hissed at Remus’s arrival, looking between Remus with his fangs bared and Virgil with what might have been a questioning glance, had he still been human. “I don’t know what to do,” Virgil admitted to Remus in a whisper. “You know about this stuff, right?”  As if Remus wasn’t holding a whole ass pig in his arms.  

Remus approached the snake cautiously, holding the pig out in front of him like an offering. The snake continued to eye Remus warily, even as its tongue poked out of its mouth, picking up on the meaty scent/taste of the pig. Remus wished he had gloves as he held the pig even closer to the snake, helping ease the animal into the snake’s mouth until he had to let go or risk losing his fingers.  

He’s sure the snake would have liked that – considering his meat would be fresher than the meat that had been hanging on a hook for however long – but  he  wouldn’t have. He might’ve been a little fascinated as to how it would feel, but fingers were useful. He wanted to keep all ten of his. Or maybe just lose one. 

“Now we just wait,” Remus said softly, as he stepped back towards Virgil, keeping an eye on the snake. “We’ll have to cancel our plans today, unless you think we can go without him and you won’t want to bite my head off. He’ll need the time to fully digest the animal. And if I fully understand his curse from my research, after he’s digested it fully and he’s rested, he should turn back to his human form and the transformation will be delayed again. 

“Not for very long, since the pig wasn’t fresh or very large, when you consider that this snake weighs as much as Janus does in his human form, but for long enough. A few days, at least.” 

“A few days? I thought it was a monthly thing.” 

“From what I understand, his family treats him like he’s their pet for a week, feeding him at regular intervals until the snake is satisfied enough to go back into ‘hibernation’. The ‘hibernation’ period lasts a month. But right now, I’m just trying to get him fed in one go.  

“In order to force a one-month hibernation, it would have to be a damn large meal. Or I – um, we – would have to get the snake part of him used to smaller portions before hibernating.” 

“You can take care of that, I think,” Virgil said. “You know what you’re doing. I... trust-” Virgil said the word like it tasted bitter on his tongue, like he was worried he might regret it, “-you to take care of him properly. And I guess you’re... okay. You didn’t have to buy a whole pig for him.” 

“You think I bought the pig?” 

“Did you just make me an accomplice in a crime?” Virgil’s voice was a shriek. 

“You asked the question. Don’t ask questions you don’t want to find out the answers to.” 

“That sounds like some shit Jan would say.” 

“Well, we are friends. At least, I’d like to think so.” 

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t care. You stole a pig for him, so...” Remus silently cheered at that. 

*** 

Janus always hated waking up after he transformed back. He didn’t feel nearly as full as previous times, but he felt pretty well rested. That didn’t mean it was any easier for him to move his limbs, for him to look around and figure out where he’d transformed, because he knew it wasn’t his house. 

A figure approached him slowly, and he hissed, before he realized exactly who it was: Remus. But why was Remus there? 

Remus held a water bottle out in front of him. It was pretty warm by then, for it was late at night. Janus had been transformed for a few days, Remus only feeding the snake some smaller portions of food when he visited the shop after school (he’d had to text Patton about the situation, and their parents had to call in sick on Janus’s behalf. Remus promised he would try to be at the shop when Janus woke up, because there was no way for him to transport a snake that was still wary of him to Patton and Janus’s house) until seeing Janus transform back right in front of his very eyes, because the snake realized it wouldn’t be getting anything more. 

“Do you need help?” Remus asked, as if he knew that Janus would have a hard time moving on his own. Of course, he should have expected Janus’s glare. If there was one thing he knew about Janus, it was that he hated pity. “Fair enough. Here then.” Remus opened the water bottle and splashed some of it on Janus’s face. 

Janus’s glare only intensified, but a forked tongue slid out of his mouth to lick away the droplets of water that had landed on his lips. Remus repeated the splashing, even as Janus continued to glare as he worked himself to sitting, worked himself to being able to snatch the bottle from Remus to stop the assault and actually get to drink away the rotten taste lingering in his mouth. 

When he had finished off the water bottle, his tried to work his lips and vocal cords into speaking to Remus. To thank him, first off, because now that Janus knew he was in his shop, he wouldn’t have expected anyone to stick around. 

“Don’t worry about it, dude,” Remus responded, when Janus finally got the words out. 

“Why did you stay?” 

“Well, I still went to school, but I wasn’t about to let you starve. Even if you’re cursed, you’re still human and you’re still my friend, if you’ll accept my friendship. Virgil likes me enough for helping you, if that makes a lick of difference.” 

“A what? That's not a saying. But sure, friends. It’s kinda a bonding thing to see someone through a snake curse for however long it lasted this time.” 

“So we’re like bonded bonded?” 

“What does that mean?” 

“We’re the bestest of friends now? Like gossipy teenage girls who talk about all their secrets?” 

“Well, you know my biggest secret. I guess it can’t hurt to tell you the rest of my secrets someday.” 

“Fuck yeah! We should have a celebration. I’ll get the booze.” 

“We’re fifteen and sixteen, and I’m in no mood to party right now.” 

“But you’d be down for booze?” 

“If you can get me a decent enough bottle of wine.” 

“I can steal anything your blackened heart desires, J-Anus.” 

“Please don’t start calling me that.” 

“Too late. I just thought of it, so it’s sticking.” 

“I hate you.” Janus’s voice was deadpan. 

“You love me,” Remus sang. 

“Debatable.” Remus knew that was a yes. He had Janus’s platonic love. They were friends. And this friendship was one he would cherish. It was one he would do whatever it took to keep. 

He would only get closer to Janus and even to Virgil, until they were literal partners in crime with Virgil complaining the whole time (as if he didn’t like the adrenaline rush, Remus would joke, after which Virgil would retort that his life was one long adrenaline rush, so no, actually, he hated it). Until his friendship with Janus was stronger than a dung beetle. 

Until he understood Janus’s silences, his facial expressions, and each hiss that left his mouth in snake form. 

And then, friends they would be forever, their bond unbreakable.