Chapter Text
Winter 1927
The portal shimmered gold as Lucifer stepped through, his human disguise melting away. His eyes returned to their natural red and gold, his skin paled to paper-white, and his ears and nose shrank away.
He barely had time to look around the palace before, "DAAAAD!" Charlie's voice rang through the palace, and she tackled him in a hug that would’ve crushed him if he were mortal.
"Hey, duckling!" He laughed, catching her easily. At 395 years old, she was still his little girl.
“I MISSED YOU SOO MUCH! I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU!”
Lilith appeared in the doorway, elegant as always, her purple dress flowing down her figure effortlessly. "You're glowing, Lucifer." She smiled. “You must’ve had a good couple of months in the human world.”
"I am not glowing," he protested, but he knew his smile gave him away.
"You're in love," Charlie gasped, eyes wide. "Dad! Tell me everything!"
“W-well, I don’t know if love is the right word, for it-” He exclaimed as Charlie shook him vigorously. “We just went on our first date a couple of months ago! I’m not sure we’re ready to say the L-word yet, duckie!”
Charlie stopped shaking him, but she then grabbed his hand and pulled him into her room. “Wait, you can tell me over tea! I prepared a little something for your visit!”
“Oh, o-okay Char-ILE WHOA-” He yelped as the young girl sped across the palace with him in tow, yapping about his new girlfriend.
“So! Dad!” Charlie smiled as she plopped him into an open seat at her tea table and poured him some tea. “Tell meee alllllll about your girlfriend.”
“Well -thank you, Charlie- he is very sweet. He talks a lot, actually, for a living; he talks to people to give them their news. He is very sarcastic, and well, I think he’d like you very much.” Lucifer sipped at his tea.
“Really?” Her eyes seemed to get bigger. “Can I meet him?”
“Uh,” Lucifer didn’t want to disappoint her, but he was trying to keep his hell life, as far away as possible from his human one. “Maybe. He doesn’t really know you exist, Char, and it would be a big shock to him. He thinks I’m 25, and you’d pass for a 12-year-old in the human realm.”
“Oh,” She seemed to deflate slightly, before perking up again. “You could bring him to meet us!" Charlie suggested eagerly.
Lucifer's expression fell. "I can't, duckling. He doesn't know who I really am."
"Then tell him!"
"Charlie..." Lilith's voice was gentle but firm. "You know your father doesn't make promises he can't keep."
Lucifer winced. She was right. He'd learned that lesson the hard way—every promise he'd ever made, he'd been bound to keep. It was part of his nature, perhaps a remnant of what he'd been before the Fall. The only promise he currently carried was the one he'd made to Michael, and that weight was heavy enough.
"If I promised him the truth, I'd have to tell him everything," Lucifer said quietly. "And I'm not ready for that. Not yet."
Charlie deflated slightly. "I just want to meet him. He seems to make you so happy, Dad."
"Maybe someday," Lucifer said, carefully avoiding making it a promise. He took another sip before saying, “Now enough about me, how are you doing?”
Charlie slowly perked up and launched into a rant about something gossip she’d heard from the imps working as staff. Lucifer was fully engaged, laughing along with his daughter when she’d tell him about the stuff her homeschool tutor was saying.
This was all he’d wanted from this visit.
—
“Wow, Alastor,” a voice behind him said. “You look like a crazy person.”
Alastor sat upright and looked behind him, straightening his clothes and expression. “Ah! Mimzy! How are you, my dear?” He closed the notebook and hid it in his pocket, hoping Mimzy didn’t see it.
“Now don’t give me that, Alastor! I know when something’s bothering you!” Mimzy pulled up a chair and sat down next to him at the cafe bar. “Spill, spill!”
Alastor laughed, hoping it didn’t betray his unease. “Nonesense my dear! I was just reading a very entertaining book!”
“Alastor,” Mimzy narrowed her eyes at him in a warning gaze.
He sighed and decided to tell her something else that was bothering him at the moment, rather than divulge the other information. “My mother’s health is… declining. The doctors have told me she doesn’t have long.”
“Well, they’ve said this before, and she’s been fighting for almost 3 years now!” Mimzy exclaimed. “She’s strong and resilient, like her son, and she’ll break through this.” She took his hand in a comforting gesture and patted it.
“Yeah,” Alastor smiled softly at his longtime friend. “Maybe.”
—
"Lou, I was thinking—no, that's too casual." Alastor paced his living room, hands gesturing as he spoke to empty air. "Lou, it's come to my attention that your living situation is—no, that sounds like I'm judging him."
He caught sight of himself in the mirror and grimaced. "Get it together, Alastor. You've killed men without flinching, but asking your boyfriend to move in is what breaks you?"
He straightened up his clothing and went back to pacing, muttering to himself, “It needs to be direct, but I have to bring it up naturally, and I can’t sound like I’m judging or pitying him; he’ll never accept it if he thinks I’m doing this out of pity!”
He pulled at his curly brown hair and let go, sighing to himself. “He’ll understand if you say it in the right way. You got this, Alastor, just be casual when he comes back from his trip.”
As if he summoned him, the doorbell suddenly rang, and Alastor somehow knew who was on the other side.
Alastor took a deep breath before walking from where he was in the kitchen to his door and opening it.
There stood Lou, a bright smile on his face, a figure of calm amidst the winter's chill. The cold air whipped around him, teasing at his clothes, yet he seemed to radiate an eternal warmth that enveloped those nearby. His light blue eyes sparkled like a clear summer sky. Soft blonde hair danced gently in the icy breeze, framing his face with a halo-like quality.
The air was cold enough that Lou thought it was smart to don a white suit jacket to complement his black bow tie, white pants, pink vest, and the high boots he always wore.
“Hello, Lou,” Alastor was losing the battle to hug him out in the open because, fuck, Alastor missed his boyfriend. They’d been inseparable since their date, and even if it was just a few days apart, Alastor felt as if there were a hole where is heart should’ve been.
“Hi, Al,” Lou responded.
“Uh, won’t you come in? For a nightcap.” He added quickly as a man and a woman walked by his house. It was late enough that it wasn’t suspicious, and the couple paid them no mind.
“Sure.”
As soon as Alastor shut the door behind them, he surged forward to Lou and captured his lips in a kiss.
When they parted, Lou panted, “Miss me?” matched with a cheeky grin that Alastor returned.
“Perhaps,” He said, and pulled him in for a hug. “Don’t leave me again.” He mumbled into Lucifer’s hair.
“I’ll try,” Lou hugged back, and for just a moment, everything felt perfect.
—
After dinner, they somehow ended up on the couch, or rather, Lou was on the couch, playing with Alastor’s hair, and Alastor was on the floor letting his hair be played with as he read a book.
"Lou," Alastor said, looking up from his book, but not turning his head, to not disturb Lou and his work on his curls, "I've been thinking."
"That’s dangerous," Lou teased without looking up from his hair.
"You've been staying here most nights anyway. And you still don't have a permanent place." He set his book down on his lap and craned his head around to look at his boyfriend. "Why don't you just... move in? Officially?”
Lou's fingers stopped abruptly. "Move in? With you?"
"Well, I wasn't suggesting you move in with my mother." Alastor tried for casual, but his hands betrayed him, fidgeting with his bookmark. "Unless you'd prefer—"
"No! I mean, yes! I mean—" Lou laughed. "I'd love to move in with you, Al."
"Good. That's... good." Alastor cleared his throat. "Though I suppose there isn't much to move, is there?"
Lou grinned sheepishly. "I travel light?"
“I’m sure you do, mon canard,” Alastor laughed and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek, before turning back to his book.
That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I don’t know why I was so stressed about it.
—
Lucifer liked Alastor so much. BUT WHY IN HIS FATHER’S NAME DID HE SNORE SO LOUD? Lucifer didn’t think someone could snore this loud; it didn’t make sense to him. It didn’t usually bother him if he fell asleep before Alastor, but tonight he’d made the mistake of finishing his book instead of falling asleep.
And now he was cursed with snoring.
He couldn’t even get up and walk around; Alastor had his arms around his waist and was a light sleeper. If Lucifer tried to move, he’d wake up. As much as his boyfriend’s snoring annoyed him, he didn’t want to wake Alastor up.
Oh, you… He sleepily thought. You will be the death of me, won’t you?
Lucifer slowly shifted Alastor’s limbs away, doing his best not to move him too fast or too much at a time, until he was able to turn his body so his feet could carry him off their bed and into the kitchen.
He took inventory, just for something to do while he was awake, checking for groceries they needed, and wrote it down on a notepad for the next day. A glance at the clock told him it was well past midnight.
He sighed, rubbing his face and grabbing the last apple, writing down apples on the grocery notepad, and taking a bite out of it.
He sat on the couch, slowly finishing his snack and listening to the radio. Light jazz was softly playing in the background, as it always was in their house.
It reminded him of his boyfriend, though he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the soft piano notes flowing freely, or the fact that it was the radio itself, for his boyfriend was the host of a radio talk show.
“Mon Cher?” A sleepy voice asked from their bedroom doorway. “Qu'est-ce que tu fais debout si tard?” What are you doing up so late?
He turned to see what he expected, Alastor, barely holding himself up, eyes drooping heavily, and hair ruffled with bedhead. He got up, making his way over to Alastor, throwing his apple core away while he walked past the garbage can.
“Hey, j'ai -uh- juste un peu… faim. Je serai -um- bientôt de… retour au lit.” I'm just a little hungry. I'll be back in bed soon. His jumbled French came out choppy, but he hoped he’d gotten his point across. He knew most languages, but for some reason, French escaped his knowledge. And since it was Alastor’s first language, he’d tried to make an effort to learn it.
Alastor didn’t say anything; he just grabbed his hand and slowly pulled Lucifer to their bed.
“Al?” Lucifer questioned.
“Lit. Maintenant.” Bed. Now. Alastor firmly said, before pulling them both under the covers of the warm bed. “J'ai besoin de dormir. Et vous aussi.” I need sleep. And so do you.
“O-okay,” He stuttered, before smiling at his boyfriend, and letting sleep overtake him.
—
Spring 1928
"So what do you do all day?" Alastor asked over breakfast one morning, three months after Lucifer had officially moved in.
"Hmm?" Lucifer looked up from his coffee.
"While I'm at the radio station. What do you do?"
Lucifer shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh... wander around the house and the city? Read? Sometimes I bake. Do you ever wonder why the house is always so clean?"
"Lou." Alastor set down his fork. "Do you have a job? Or a social life?"
"...Define job and what’s a social life?"
"Lou."
"Okay, no. I don't have a job or a life outside of you." He rushed to add, "But I have savings! I'm not mooching off you, I can pay rent, I've collected some money over the years—"
"I'm not worried about money, dear." Alastor waved him off. "I'm worried you're bored out of your mind all day."
“It takes a lot to make me bored, trust me.” Lucifer smiled sheepishly.
“Okay, but,” Alastor sighed. “Will you at least try? For me?" Alastor asked.
Lou looked at him—really looked at him. Alastor was genuinely concerned, genuinely wanted Lou to be happy. "I promise," he said softly.
Alastor blinked, surprised by the weight Lou seemed to put on those two words. "I mean, you don't have to promise, just—"
"No, I do." Lou took his hand. "I promise I'll try to build a life here. Make friends. Find something that makes me happy."
“I don’t want you to do this for me,” Alastor squeezed his hand, “I want you to do it for you. I truly want you to be happy.”
“I will,” Lou then repeated. “I promise.
—
"You know," Alastor said thoughtfully, watching Lou pull a perfect batch of beignets from the oven, a few days after their job conversation, "you're quite talented at this."
"At what? Baking?" Lou shrugged. "It's just a hobby."
"A hobby you're exceptional at." Alastor took a bite and hummed appreciatively. "You made Pain Perdu from watching me make it! No recipe required for it to taste perfect! Have you ever considered opening a bakery?"
Lou nearly dropped the pan. "A bakery? Me?"
"Why not? You clearly enjoy it, you're skilled, and Lord knows this city could use another good bakery." Alastor leaned against the counter. "I could help you with the business side. Finding a location, permits, that sort of thing. Being a radio host comes with its connections, you see."
"You really think I could do that?" Lou's voice was small, vulnerable in a way Alastor rarely heard.
"Lou, I think you could do anything you set your mind to." Alastor brought a powdered sugar finger to Lou’s nose and gave him a little boop, rendering Lou speechless so he could grab another beignet, walking away with it in his hand, trailing powdered sugar on the floor.
“Hey!” Lou broke his shock in time for him to see Alastor turn a corner. “I have to clean that up later!”
—
Lucifer walked into the library and went straight to the notice board, trying to find a club or 2 posted on there that piqued his interest.
Book club! All ages, skin tones, and genders welcome! First meeting on March 20th!
Come, all string instrumentalists! Join the String Quartet! We travel around New Orleans busking and donating all our earnings to charities! Call the number at the bottom if you are interested! All skin tones and genders welcome!
Hmmmmm…
—
“Lou, I found the perfect spot for your bakery!” Alastor came crashing into their room while Lou was doing laundry one day.
“Really? Where-WHOA!” Lou’s hand was suddenly grabbed, and he was taken outside, where Alastor dropped his hand but still gestured for him to follow quickly, and soon the two were running through the streets of New Orleans.
“Slow down!” Lou yelled.
“Be faster!” Alastor hollered back.
Soon, they came to an abandoned old building about a mile away from their house, and right in the middle of all the foot traffic.
The old building stood at the corner of Maple and Elm, its once-vibrant red bricks now weathered and dulled. Ivy clung to the façade, while tall, arched windows, framed in splintered wood, had fogged over with age. Some windows still sported rusted ironwork.
The steeply pitched roof, capped with worn gray shingles, featured a leaning chimney with missing bricks. Ornate carvings on the gables hinted at a craftsman's skill long faded. The heavy wooden door, slightly ajar, creaked invitingly, its tarnished brass doorknob showing the signs of time.
“One of my connections showed it to me this morning, so when I got off, I just had to find you!” Alastor gestured to the building, whose sign was currently missing so many letters that neither of them could figure out what it was supposed to say. “Come on, let’s go in!” They opened the door and went in.
Inside, a wide hall showcased peeling wallpaper and dust motes dancing in the light. Remnants of furniture and empty rooms filled with cobwebs, dust, bugs, dirt, and rats filled the main hall.
“Well, it’s certainly…” A rat ran past Lou’s feet. “Charming.”
“It just needs some time, love, and a bit of elbow grease,” Alastor said as he looked around, coming back to Lou and taking his hands.
“I don’t know Alastor. This is a big step. I don’t know, we can even afford this at the moment.” Lucifer looked around. “Renovations like this can cost a lot of money, and banks aren’t giving out many loans right now.”
“Oh, I think I remember a certain someone saying they have some saved-up money!” Alastor teased, but upon seeing the worry on Lucifer’s face, squeezed his hands tightly. “I know we can do it if we just try. You have a gift, Lou. You should be able to share it.”
“Okay, but you’d better be helping me restore this creepy as fuck building.”
“Deal.”
—
Summer 1928
Alastor was in hell right now. Or at least his definition of it. A frat party. That he was seemingly only invited out of pity. He wasn’t originally going to go, but his producers gently suggested that he should go, as he could promote the show even more, not that it needed promoting, as it was doing better than ever.
He knew they only wanted him to go because if he lost his cool in a room full of white people, they could fire him.
Joke’s on them, because Alastor grew up controlling his rage around snobby, rich, white men. Although later, he would lure the ones whom where the scum of the earth in Alastor’s opinion into the bayou where he’d kill them.
He hadn’t done that in almost two years, though when he went to events like this, where everyone except him was rich, old, white, and tipsy, it was hard not to go on a killing spree again.
A man spilled his drink on Alastor earlier, red like blood that was sure to stain his white dress shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice it until he glanced over at Alastor, who was awaiting an apology. Instead of doing the right thing, he just laughed and spilled more of the red wine on Alastor.
It was hard not to yell at the man and simply walk to the colored men’s bathroom to get as much of the stain out of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t kill him later.
He took a deep breath in and blew one out, cursing in his mother languge as he took a paper towel to try and get the wine out.
Remember why you stopped killing. He thought, his clenched teeth loosening at the thought of his boyfriend.
You can survive a few more hours here, and you will not get fired. He thought as he left the restroom, the stain significantly reduced on his white shirt, and his head held just a touch higher. You can do it.
And so he did, for the better part of the night, he endured racist and bigoted comments and actions much like that first wine spill til the party’s end. He went home seething, opening the door to his house and slamming it shut, not thinking of his boyfriend, who should’ve been asleep by now.
As it turns out, he wasn’t and had been using his time to map out the revelations to his bakery. The living room floor was a mess of scattered papers and pencils, and Lou lay in the middle of it, one pencil in his hand, and one tucked in his ear.
At the slamming of the door, Lou frantically put his hands on his papers to keep them from scattering everywhere, shooting Alastor a playful glare as he walked past.
“Hi, Al,” Lou smiled, but Alastor just saw the fake smile he’d been seeing all night, and looked away from Lou. “How was the party?”
“Fine,” The clipped and detached tone seemingly took Lou off guard as Alastor walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “We need milk.”
“O-okay?” Lou’s confused tone irritated Alastor for some reason. “Are you good?”
“Yes, I’m fine, Lou, or have you gone deaf from old age?” Alastor snapped, rubbing at his temples, and turning around to look at Lou, who was angering him, but the reason why escaped him.
“Fine, if you want to be pissy, be my guest!” Lou angrily gathered up his papers and stomped into the spare room, muttering, “This is what I get for trying to be nice to my boyfriend…” on his way before slamming the spare bedroom door and locking it with a faint click.
Suddenly, all the fury drained out of Alastor, and he felt saddened. He didn’t mean to take his anger out on Lou. He didn’t deserve that, especially when all he was trying to do was check in on him.
He walked over to the door and softly knocked. “Lou?”
“What?” Lou snapped from the other side of the door.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you that way, even if I was angry at the people from the party.” Alastor spoke through the door. As he was about to walk away, he heard the lock unclick and the door creak open.
“Thank you for apologizing,” Lou said as he stood on the other side of the door. “I didn’t like being your verbal punching bag. What happened, and answer honestly, at the party?”
“The usual,” Alastor waved his hand as the two of them moved to sit on the couch. “Snide comments about my skin color and age. A few people disrespect me, like purposefully spilling wine on my clothes.”
Lou stayed silent for a moment. “I know you don’t want pity.”
“That is correct,”
Lou let out an awkward chuckle. “I can’t say I know exactly what you’re feeling like, but I can get an idea.”
“How?” Alastor was suddenly angry again, “No one with your skin color can know what it’s like to be me! A bastard child, with a white father and black mother. I’ve been treated like the scum of the earth all my life because of something I cannot control! How can you possibly know what it feels like to be me every day?!”
This time, Lou didn’t stomp off while Alastor was panting, though it would have been justified. He just said, “How do you think they treat homeless people? Don’t you forget, I was disowned by my family, and after my divorce, I was living on the streets, which I did for about a year and a half. I haven’t been treated as badly as you, considering I don’t look like a typical homeless person, but I haven’t been treated fairly. I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, I never will, but don’t act like I’ve had it easy my whole life.”
Alastor was speechless. He’d never thought about it that way, and sometimes he forgot that though Lou looked the way he did, he didn’t have it easy.
“You’re right,” Alastor looked him in the eye. “You do understand better than most people could, but it’s hard. Everyone I try to talk to about this doesn’t fit in the in-between as I do. It’s isolating and angering that I can’t be treated fairly because of who my parents are.”
“I know that, and sometimes I won’t fully get it, but I will always try to.” Lou grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I will always try for you.”
Alastor leaned his forehead against Lou’s and whispered, “Merci, ma chère.”
—
“Whose turn is it?” Ruth’s corny Alabama accent broke through Lucifer’s thoughts.
“I think it’s Lou’s,” Charles smiled, putting his viola into its case.
“What dyou say, Lou?” Allie asked, flashing him a bucked tooth smile and zipping up her Bass into its black fabric. “It’s your turn to pick the charity, and we’ve got a lot of earnin’s today!”
Lucifer only shrugged, loosening his bow and placing it beside his violin. “Don’t know. Got any suggestions?”
Frank scratched his chin, almost poking his eye out with his bow. “Save the Children?”
“Or Children's Aid Society?” His sister, Helen, added, leaning onto Allie.
Allie looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, “Lambda Legal?”
“Don’t bring your California BS into this, Allie!” Ruth snorted before continuing to pack up her cello.
“Unless you’ve got a better idea!” Allie jabbed back.
“American Civil Liberties Union?” Charles suggested.
“I like that idea, Charles.” Lucifer smiled. “Our earnings can go to the ACLU this week.”
Frank nodded, grabbed the jar and a piece of paper, scribbling on it, and placed the paper into the full jar.
“Good choice, buddy.” Helen patted him on the back before joining her brother, waving bye to them.
“See ya’ll next week!” Ruth grinned, walking down the street, rolling her cello case behind her.
One by one, they all left the street as night fell, except for Allie and Lucifer.
“Need help?” Lucifer offered as he watched Allie struggle down the sidewalk with her instrument that was larger than her body.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Allie laughed. “Ever since the backpack straps broke, it’s been such a hassle to bring it anywhere.” She gave him an end while she took the other.
“Oh, wow, this is surprisingly light.” Lucifer noticed as they started walking down the street to Allie’s car.
“Yep,” Allie agreed. “They aren’t heavy, they’re just clunky.”
Lucifer didn’t quite know what to say to that, so they walked in silence to the car. Awkward silence.
Out of everyone in the String Quartet, he felt closest to Allie, though he didn’t know how to go about making friends anymore. He did want to be her friend, but he was just so horrible at it.
“Here we are!” Allie smiled as they reached a beat-up old truck. “It’s not much, but it’s mine!” She and Lucifer loaded up the trunk with the bass, being careful not to smash the bridge or any other part of the somewhat delicate but large instrument.
“Thanks for helping me, Lou!” She smiled at him.
“No problem,” He smiled back at the 19-year-old, and nervously added, “It’s what friends are for, right?”
Allie seemed somewhat taken aback, and Lucifer thought he’d made a mistake before she gave him a wide buck-tooth grin. “Yeah!” She paused for a moment. “Do you want to, like, hang out sometime? Platonicly of course!”
“Yeah, I think that’d be nice,” Lucifer said, before adding. “Just give me a call anytime. You have my house number.”
“Sweet,” She looked around, before nervously offering him a hug. Lucifer gladly accepted.
She walked around the car and got inside, starting it. “See you around, Lou!”
“See you around, Allie.”
—
Fall 1928
Alastor has seen and heard a lot in his 22 years of life. He’d come to expect most of it, the hustle and bustle of the city, the hum of the radio feed in the studio, the notes that were the same when he’d played the piano.
He’d never expected to hear violin music when he came home. Never is too strong a word, because it was a possibility in the back of his mind, ever since he’d seen the case when Lucifer moved in a few months ago.
It was soft, melodic, almost heavenly, the way the bow glided across the strings in an arco. Lou didn’t even appear to be reading sheet music, simply playing from the heart, and that spoke to Alastor.
He didn’t know how long he’d stood there, staring, listening, watching as his boyfriend effortlessly played the stringed instrument like he’d been playing all his life.
Which he had been. Alastor remembered. If he remembered correctly, Lou had been playing since he was 5.
A particularly drawn-out note, so melodic and beautiful, crossed the room, and Alastor lost his grip on his keys. The clatter to the floor startled Lou out of his violin-playing trance.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Lou seemed relieved. “Welcome home, dear.” Lou put the violin on the table and went over to Alastor, hugging him and kissing him on the cheek in greeting.
“How was your day at the book club, Lou?” Alastor asked as his boyfriend went to clean up his violin stuff.
“Ah, same old same old, the boys not contributing much, and the girls being especially chatty about the book. They really open my eyes further into the themes of the books we read more than I thought I could.” Lucifer said, placing his Violin in the case.
“Hey, Lou?” Alastor started, unsure, “Don’t put it away yet, I realise that we have yet to play music together, and that would just be a shame to not while you have such a pretty instrument out.”
“If you wanted to hear me play, all you had to do was ask, silly!” He teased, taking the violin back out and walking to the piano they had in their living room.
Alastor only rolled his eyes and walked to the piano too, sitting on the stool and lifting the cover.
“What did you want to play?” Lou asked, placing the violin to his chin.
“Do you know Liebesleid?” Alastor asked.
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.” Lou grinned.
“Ready?”
Lou responded by pulling the first note on the strings, and Alastor quickly followed on the piano, the harmonies carrying throughout the house.
This is heaven. Alastor thought as he listened to the music.