Archive of Our Own

Someday
This could be, this could be ordinary
Someday
Could we be something extraordinary?
You and me side by side
Out in the broad daylight
If they laugh, we'll say
We're gonna be someday

---

Talia was furious.

She irritably tapped her finger, adorned with a ring bearing a green stone, against a golden goblet that seemed so fragile in her hand—a little more and it would shatter like glass. With a sharp movement, she crossed her legs, causing her long skirt with its high slit, decorated with patterned embossing, to sway.

Somewhere in the distance, a fountain murmured, but silence hung in the hall itself. The other assassins tactfully stared at the floor, and only Damian burned holes in him with his gaze no less intensely than his mother. If the old man were here, he'd probably find it amusing. For some reason, he was always touched when his daughter and grandson blazed with anger.

Jason, however, was anything but tactful as he leaned against one of the pillars, which pleasantly cooled him. After extensive use of fire magic, his body still burned, and he'd have liked at least some water, but Talia would probably only offer poison right now.

"He's among Muggles?"

Her voice echoed through the hall. Jason shrugged—that's what he'd said. Damian clicked his tongue meaningfully.

"We've already gathered that Clarion finds this amusing," Jason said, subtly winking at Damian so the poor kid wouldn't worry so much about him. Dami could be overly sensitive when it came to conflicts with his mother. Jason was sure Talia even liked having someone to argue with—besides her son, of course; there she always needed Jason to get through the conflict with minimal bloodshed. Jason hadn't signed up to be a family psychologist, but they hadn't given him any contracts anyway; they'd immediately made him swear eternal loyalty to their terrifying leader, who, according to prophecies, would make the whole world tremble. Back then, their leader was about six years old at most, so Jason only trembled from barely suppressed laughter.

"His eccentricities defy logic," Talia sighed, lifting her chin. "Years were spent searching for his previous artifact."

"Years for your other assassins—I managed it in a month."

"And I appreciate your contribution to expanding our artifact collection, but searching for his grimoire in the Muggle world is like looking for a Bowtruckle among trees."

Which was true. For some unknown reason, Clarion preferred to hide his most valuable magical artifacts in the Muggle world, disguising them as Muggle objects. The hypnosis spell they'd searched for so long was disguised as a vinyl record of Elvis Presley songs, and you could only identify it by a few words written in small print on the back bottom. And now that they'd obtained—through not entirely honest or legal means—information about the existence of a grimoire containing knowledge of time magic, a new problem arose: how to know where to look for this book? What could it be disguised as? Because you couldn't use Revelio or any other spell on Clarion's artifacts; he'd taken care of that. Jason had never met Clarion, but he gave the impression of quite the trickster.

"Jason isn't capable of anything more anyway," Damian spoke up, never stopping his intense staring. "Let him keep searching for artifacts and stay out from underfoot. We can send him far away to get a break from him."

"As if you wouldn't miss me, princess."

Talia thoughtfully regarded them both, then, setting aside the goblet, gracefully rose from her chair and approached Jason, looking less furious now. She placed a hand on his shoulder:
"You must find the grimoire as quickly as possible, Jason. The Shadows are counting on you."

Jason pressed his fist to his chest, indicating his readiness.

Damian simply slipped silently from the hall, probably to furiously help him pack while asking what he'd been thinking.

---

Usually, when you enter such small antique shops, a bell rings as the door opens. In this shop, a dinosaur's roar sounded, and the sharp smell of dust and sage hit your nostrils. A stuffed Porlock almost fell on Jason from somewhere on a top shelf, but he was prepared for such things, so he simply placed the creature back up with a wave of his wand. To reach the counter, he had to carefully navigate around numerous cabinets filled with the most cursed junk in all of magical Britain.

"I don't think your business will do well if customers have to run an obstacle course every time."

Jason's first stop was Roy's, because artifacts were his specialty. The former Slytherin greeted him with a sly grin and a cup of terrible coffee.

"Looks like the Shadows dressed you up. I'm used to seeing you only in green and black, but here you are in jeans and a leather jacket. What's the writing on the shirt?"

"Some band, no idea," Jason took a sip of the brew and realized Roy had added some disgusting syrup to it. He could only hope the mug wasn't cursed. "I'll be undercover for a while."

"Ah, so Muggles better not leave their houses?" Roy wiggled his eyebrows. "You know how many books are written about romances with double agents. Poor non-wizards should protect their hearts."

Jason snorted mockingly and handed his friend a sheet of paper with a messy drawing of the grimoire.

Roy leaned over the paper carefully, squinting:
"Did you threaten the artist with death? The perspective is terrible."

"Yes, actually."

The artist was lucky to survive at all, even if he did lose his memories of the grimoire—a small price to pay. Jason was rarely sent on missions requiring him to kill anyone. The old man once said it was because of Talia's sentimentality, since she'd practically raised Jason, but it was more that Talia was calculating, and it was more profitable to send Jason on artifact searches. When Jason read books as a child about wizards going on treasure hunts, he never thought it would become his main occupation, but now he could boast of having traveled the world, broken into ancient tombs and temples, and sometimes killed competitors in battles for powerful artifacts the Shadows needed. In his free time, he even worked as a babysitter. The Shadows certainly never let him get bored.

"Wow, Birdie, you'd better be careful with your words—I might have to be eliminated as a witness now. And is that blood? Seriously? You have a kid with artistic abilities back there, and you bring me this crap into my sacred temple?"

"That kid is still sulking, so he'd only draw my cold, dead body."

"I'd buy that portrait; it could use some freshening up around here."

"Maybe start by removing that stuffed Porlock."

"Roberto? He's the mascot of this place!" Regaining his serious tone, Roy pushed the paper away. "But I haven't seen this one, so it's definitely hidden among ordinary Muggle books. I can give you a few addresses of the best antique shops if you do me a favor too."

Jason downed the terrible coffee in one gulp so as not to hurt Roy's feelings and leaned on the counter, nearly touching a stuffed Owlbear that contained a gangrene curse:
"Jade said if she gets one more letter from you, she'll definitely poison your food."

"Sounds like a hint at a romantic dinner," Roy finally wrote a few addresses on a clean sheet. "Stop by whenever you can. Me, you, Roberto, gossip about our old acquaintances."

"All your gossip revolves around Dickie's personal life."

"And am I to blame that our friends are so boring?"

Jason snorted in response, thinking that "friends" was a bit of a stretch; besides Roy and Rachel, he hadn't seen anyone from Hogwarts since he'd run away after his second year, years ago. Nodding goodbye, Jason set off for one of the addresses.

---

Searching for the book really wasn't easy, and Jason understood it would take clearly more than a month. He'd explain things to Talia later; she'd understand, but Dami would definitely throw a tantrum, so he'd at least need to visit him—though returning to the Shadows wasn't exactly appealing. Besides, the Muggle world wasn't half bad.

Jason hadn't fully figured out public transport and bank machines yet, but he liked the advertising banners on big screens, the music in shopping centers, and portable players. Clarion definitely knew how to hide artifacts. Although searching for a grimoire in modern bookstores was pointless, since Clarion had a love for antiques and complicated paths, Jason still popped into a couple of Waterstones and Foyles as a sightseeing trip, even buying a few books for Damian as souvenirs.

The first antique bookstore Jason searched didn't yield much. It was tiny, run by a sweet elderly lady who treated Jason to lemon cake every day he came in. A couple of times she helped him browse through books, simultaneously telling him about her life: about traveling all over Britain by train with her husband, about how they'd dreamed of opening their own bookshop. There was also a lovely cat that sometimes fell asleep on Jason's lap while he flipped through books, which greatly hindered the search, but it was worth it. Leaving the shop was even a bit sad.

The second antique shop wasn't welcoming at all. The owner was disturbed by the frequent visits and by Jason methodically searching for something, so he had to act quickly: close the empty shop, knock out the salesman, conduct the search, erase the memory, wake him up.

The third shop combined a bookstore and a coffee shop, so Jason got more addicted to coffee than planned, but even here the search was unsuccessful—though at least he didn't have to use magic.

The fourth turned out to be not so Muggle-oriented, so while sorting through books, Jason at one point felt an intense stare and pulled out his wand. Burning books was especially unpleasant, but still better than that time Jason was sent for an artifact in Germany and destroyed a church fresco with someone else's body.

The fifth shop was recommended by the elderly owner of one of the previous antique shops, who said that shop sometimes bought interesting books from her that needed restoration and loving owners. Jason decided to try it; Roy's list was running out anyway, and he needed new leads—and several weeks had already passed since he'd begun his search.

It was unusually quiet and empty, but there were so many bookshelves that the space resembled a labyrinth with these tall wooden cabinets reaching to the ceiling. Jason started with the farthest one, methodically examining books. He came across a gardening section—he'd definitely need to buy something from here for Dami.

"Can I help you with something?"

Jason, actually, prided himself on his reflexes and attentiveness, but the clerk appeared out of nowhere. He was clutching a stack of astronomy books and looked like he hadn't slept in a week. In the pocket of his dark blue cardigan was a thermos, and it was amazing how it fit there at all. Jason froze like that, thinking about Undetectable Extension Charms, while the clerk continued.

"The organization here is quite peculiar, so it's easy to get lost. Are you looking for something specific?"

"Not exactly," Jason twirled a book about medicinal plants in his hands, then returned it to the shelf. "I think I'm just looking for that special book, and I'll know it when I find it."

"Ah," the clerk nodded understandingly, though a bit sluggishly—apparently, the thermos did contain coffee. Jason had long noted that booksellers heard stranger things, so his excuse shouldn't bother anyone. "Then I won't disturb you."

When the clerk disappeared behind the shelves, Jason returned to his search. There were books about medieval medicinal herbs, gardening, even the language of flowers, but none contained any hidden messages, so Jason slowly moved toward the geography section.

And then he realized something was slowly moving toward him under a Disillusionment Charm, so he had to pull out his wand again. Apparently, he had a tail. The wizard flew into a shelf, falling to the floor along with several books. He Apparated to the next row, and Jason hurried after him to eliminate him. He'd never mastered Legilimency, so he'd have to interrogate using tried-and-true methods—but first he needed to catch him, trying along the way not to destroy the shop too much; after all, Jason respected books.

When the wizard lay unconscious and memory-wiped near the counter with the cash register, Jason realized he needed to write to Talia, because they weren't the only ones hunting for the grimoire.

Looking up, Jason saw the clerk peeking out from behind the counter quite phlegmatically, considering he'd just witnessed a duel between two wizards.

"I hope you're going to wave that wand of yours to put all the books back," the clerk practically lay on the counter, looking at Jason with mild irritation. "And next time, at least cast a Muffliato—you'll scare away all my customers."

Jason raised his eyebrows and moved the body aside with his wand so it wouldn't block the path:
"I'm your only customer."

"And apparently, you don't like competition."

The clerk sighed heavily and finally slid off the counter somewhere below, starting to rustle around down there. Jason silently began cleaning up, wondering whether he should erase the clerk's memories.

---

On the second day, Jason decided to at least apologize for the mess, so he stopped at a coffee shop before the bookstore. He had no idea what coffee to buy, so he chose a latte without syrup—basic, but everyone likes that kind of coffee. Even Dami and Jade, who united against him to prove he knew nothing about tea.

When he handed the cup to the clerk, loudly and meaningfully placing it on the counter, the latter looked surprised. He stared at the cup as if he'd been brought poison, not coffee. And he probably didn't even know Jason was from the Shadows—that was their whole thing.

"I still remember you."

Jason snorted mockingly:
"Of course, I tried hard to impress you."

"Well, you succeeded. Could have tried a little less," the clerk pulled the coffee toward himself, warming his hands on it. Which was strange, because the shop was warm, and he was wearing a cardigan. "I thought you'd erase my memory."

"No need yet."

"Mmm, 'yet,'" the clerk downed the cup in one gulp—which was, actually, the largest size on the menu—making Jason whistle in surprise. This bookshop definitely needed a built-in coffee shop. "For a dark wizard, you're quite courteous."

"Why did you immediately assume it was me, not the one who attacked me?"

"You sound almost offended."

"I have the right—I put all your books back. Even removed the body."

"I appreciate that, the body especially," the clerk propped his cheek on his hand, looking at him very intently. "I just don't understand what you're even doing here."

Possibly he was a Squib, knowing about magic and reacting so calmly. The Statute of Secrecy was especially strict, so it was unlikely any wizard would simply let him know about magic without erasing his memories. He definitely wasn't a wizard; Jason would have sensed magic, but there was none.

"I told you the truth: I'm looking for a special book," Jason leaned on the counter, causing the clerk to immediately lean back, looking at him with slight apprehension. "No more attacks in the near future, so no more brawls, I promise."

Jason smiled fakely and headed to where he'd left off yesterday, because he really needed to find the grimoire as soon as possible. Who knew how many competitors they had in this matter. Jason wouldn't mind if the Order of Justice found it, but giving such a magical book to other bad guys would be stupid.

---

"Some wizard really hid this special book of yours in the Muggle world?"

It so happened that they ended up very close. Jason was searching in the history section when the clerk stood on a ladder near the adjacent shelf, dusting. Jason hadn't expected him to ask a question, because he didn't give the impression of a sociable person, but apparently, curiosity was still one of his traits.

"This wizard appreciated Muggle achievements in science and culture."

"Well, of course, you don't even have electricity," the clerk sounded so spiteful, as if ready to personally hit every wizard with his colorful duster for such a medieval approach. "Not to mention the terrible educational program."

"'You,'" Jason echoed, distracted from a book about Scottish dynasties. "You're not from a magical family?"

"No, I found out by accident and now I'm burdened with knowledge."

"That's definitely illegal. What terrible company I've fallen into."

"Said the paragon of good influence who expertly disposes of bodies."

"Apparently, that really stuck with you, since you keep talking about bodies."

"What can I say, I'm easily impressed; my standards are low."

Jason snorted mockingly, moving on to the next book.

---

Two whole shelves were dedicated to history—Jason thought he'd be here forever. The theme seemed perfect for hiding a grimoire, but no, none of the books were the right one, no secret messages, no strange incorrect inscriptions. Jason Summoned the last book from the top with Accio, but didn't hold out much hope. When the clerk passed him with a huge stack, Jason waved his wand again, helping with the heavy load. In response, he got a curious look:
"How will you know when the book is the one?"

The clerk climbed the ladder again, and the books followed him, circling nearby. For a second, Jason felt like he was back at Hogwarts, but he quickly dismissed the thought. At school, even in the library, you couldn't hide from judgmental whispers, but here it was quiet—no similarities except for flying books.

"It should be strange and wrong, with a hint about how to reveal its true form."

"Sounds like something from an adventure mystery. How long have you been searching?"

"A little less than a month," Jason put the book back with a wave of his wand. The clerk was watching him do magic, not the books, and Jason—not that he wanted to show off—but purely on a whim, Summoned the next one too with magic, even though he could have reached it. "How long have you known about magic?"

"Almost two years," the clerk nimbly jumped down and adjusted the placement of some books. "Aren't dark wizards supposed to hate Muggles or something? I thought you were all terrible snobs."

"You know, when your duster is sticking out of your pocket like that, such a dangerous weapon, I'd prefer to refrain from answering," noticing a slight smile, Jason wasn't even looking at the book anymore. "It doesn't matter to me."

Jason thought it shouldn't matter to all the Shadows either. Pure-bloods could flaunt their blood all they wanted, but their bloodthirsty leader, despite his mother's ramblings about the importance of continuing the line of the most worthy al Ghuls, was still favorably disposed toward Muggles. Toward some Muggle-born wizards, not just favorably—with sympathy even, so like leader, like followers. Jade would call him a fool for that logic, but she liked Roy anyway, so she shouldn't talk.

---

When a cup of coffee appeared before him, Jason was actually surprised. The clerk just shrugged, holding a book about martial arts in one arm.

"Consider it thanks for the help."

"I just lift books in the air."

"Which I actually like. If you made them sing, that would be even better."

"Sing?.."

"You've been among Muggles for almost a month and haven't seen the best films created by humanity?" the clerk sat on the coffee table opposite. Despite the shop being fairly large for an antique store in a deserted area, there was only one reading spot. And Jason had staked it out, ready to fight any other customers. Fortunately, in the few days Jason had been coming here, there hadn't been anyone else, except once an elderly man who left quickly when the clerk found him a book about the sea or something.

"Honestly, I haven't watched any films yet."

"God, you're missing so much," the clerk even leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Only now could Jason make out his eye color: gray-blue, very light, resembling the stained glass in the Hogwarts Great Hall on a clear day. "Couldn't this mysterious wizard of yours have hidden another artifact on a movie disc?"

"Trying to give me an excuse for my superiors?"

"Or trying to figure out that wizard's logic," the clerk added somewhat hesitantly: "Have you found other artifacts from him before?"

Jason slightly raised his eyebrows, surprised not so much by the clerk's question as by his own behavior. He was, after all, used to handling all Shadow missions involving artifact searches alone; it was much more convenient that way. Sometimes he could go on other missions with Jade or Damian, but searching for antiquities in company was different. There was something appealing about sharing his discoveries, especially since his listener was watching him so attentively, smiling in anticipation. He had a beautiful smile—barely noticeable, but it immediately brightened his gaze.

"A couple of times. Clarion was a brilliant wizard, so he invented and hid a lot of things. Once I found a cat figurine at a market that seemed like an ordinary, if vintage, souvenir, but inside it actually held an ancient stone. To open it, you had to press the stones on its collar in a specific order."

"And how did you figure out the sequence?"

"I found a portrait of that wizard's cat in the archives; the stones on its collar had a different sequence than the ones on the figurine. Before that, we discovered an Elvis Presley record where the track listing was incorrectly numbered, and if you moved the needle in the right order, the song on the record changed to a magical one."

"You sound like a damn Indiana Jones," the clerk smiled openly, his eyes lighting up with delight. Jason didn't know who Indiana Jones was, but now he knew that someone here clearly liked mysteries and secrets. "And you think the book will be the same?"

"Definitely; I just need to find it first, and magic won't help with that."

The clerk thoughtfully pulled at his cardigan sleeve, frowning. At first, Jason thought he'd said something wrong, but the clerk suddenly jerked toward him:
"Surely the book can be found using the same principle. It would be stupid to hide a random book; it's probably somehow connected to what he liked."

"Apparently, cats, puzzles, vintage, and twentieth-century singers."

"If I wanted to hide a book, I'd disguise it as 'The Purloined Letter.' Or 'The Black Cat,'" seeing the incomprehension in his companion's eyes, the clerk explained: "Stories by a very famous author of mysteries and horror."

"Now I definitely need to familiarize myself with them."

The clerk nodded vigorously and pulled Jason toward the relevant books. Jason hadn't expected such energy from him, but soon he had several copies of Poe's books in his hands. There were quite a few, from ordinary collections to gift editions.

After flipping through all the books together, the clerk had to admit his mistake:
"Sorry, that was presumptuous of me. Logical, but usually everything follows logic."

"Magic doesn't follow logic."

"I don't know about your magic; it's just physics out of control," the clerk loudly closed a book, putting it back, then pulled his thermos from his cardigan pocket and took a sip. "I need to repair a few covers, but if you need anything—I'll be behind the counter."

Jason just nodded, watching the clerk quickly disappear behind the shelves. Instead of putting the last book back, Jason opened it to the first page and began to read.

---

Now the shop constantly smelled of coffee. Still not a coffee shop, but very close.

Jason mostly had breakfast at a café near the apartment that served as the Shadows' base, then took a large cup with him to the bookshop, where he'd meaningfully place it on the counter—even if the clerk was somewhere among the shelves or in the back room—and then go off to continue his search.

After some time, the clerk would bring him another mug of coffee, apparently brewed somewhere back there, and ask about his progress. Jason couldn't boast of having found the grimoire, but he could share interesting facts he'd managed to read in the books he'd flipped through. The clerk, however, always won, naming more interesting facts about sharks or baroque architecture, but Jason still believed that one day victory would be on his side—though for now, he'd even been outdone in knowledge of poisons.

And losing wasn't so bad when it earned him another mug of delicious coffee and a satisfied smile.

Most often, they were alone in the shop, and Jason could freely wave his wand, either fetching books for himself or helping the clerk with cleaning or organizing. Once he even helped him not fall off a ladder when he reacted too enthusiastically to a joke about murder and bodies—luckily, Jason had good reflexes. He'd caught Quaffles; he could catch a clerk too. Though, when the clerk instantly reddened in his arms and quickly pulled away, saying he urgently needed to go repair some cover, Jason found himself thinking that he'd caught something else here. Roy called himself a prophet in his letters, saying he'd predicted that all Muggles should protect their hearts around his Birdie.

A couple of times, customers actually appeared. Two didn't buy anything, and for three others, the clerk quickly found the books they needed, after which they happily left, never getting to properly enjoy the atmosphere of the cozy little shop, the smell of coffee, and the animated conversations about some literary new releases.

---

Usually, the clerk was absorbed in books—or in Jason. Rather, in conversations with Jason—that had become habitual, so Jason was surprised when he spent the whole evening on his phone, clearly texting someone. It was strange. Not because Jason was used to the clerk's attention belonging entirely to him, along with all the smiles, jokes, and interested glances. It was strange because the clerk seemed irritated by every incoming message.

"At moments like this, I'm almost glad I don't have a phone."

The clerk glanced at him distractedly, clearly still mentally in the conversation. Jason immediately moved closer to the counter.

"Something wrong?"

"Plan changes and incomprehensible human complications," the clerk pushed his phone aside and looked at Jason more lucidly. "I'll have to close the shop early today."

"Are you okay?"

"Don't know yet," he lay down on the counter, clearly tired and sleep-deprived. Jason felt an irrational desire to cover him with a blanket. "And you really don't have a phone?"

"And no desire to get one either."

"I could send you funny pictures," the clerk sleepily closed his eyes. No, he definitely needed to go home and sleep, not deal with whoever was messaging him—the phone was still vibrating, but he just ignored it. "Don't you even want to watch videos? Listen to music?"

"We have a magical equivalent of a player. Though, I should probably get acquainted with Muggle music."

"Well, obviously," the clerk straightened up sharply. "How can you walk around in a Linkin Park t-shirt without even knowing the band? And the band is great; you'd probably like them, but that's not the point. There's something illegal and underhanded about your actions. I walk around in a Scarlet Witch t-shirt, having read all the comics with her, thereby signaling that I'm ready to talk about her. You just confuse and embarrass people. You send ambiguous signals."

Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. He'd just listened to a tirade about his t-shirt.

"Maybe with this t-shirt, I'm specifically trying to bait you into conversation."

"So I can tell you how terrible and underhanded your clothing choice is?" the clerk finally smiled slightly, which Jason could count as a personal victory.

"You need to let off steam sometimes; you dust so viciously that at this rate you'll grind the wood to splinters," Jason propped his cheek on his fist, looking at the clerk with a slight smirk. "And now I'm full of knowledge that comics about the Scarlet Witch exist."

"No, you're definitely deprived of all the benefits of ordinary life. We have a whole shelf of graphic novels—whether your special book is there or not, you'll have to spend all tomorrow morning there."

"How sweet of you to make plans for our tomorrow."

"For the next week at least. I need your analysis of all my favorite characters; none of my acquaintances can do it, and you seem like a suitable victim to force into such activity."

"Understood, you want to take me prisoner."

"You'll thank me yourself when you find out how cool the Scarlet Witch is," the clerk reached for his phone, but this time not to reply to anyone—those messages remained unread. "And now I'll play you a couple of songs so you can wear that shirt with pride."

Jason chuckled softly, moving closer.

He definitely liked the songs, but perhaps it was because of how magically they sounded in the almost-empty bookshop, smelling of paper and coffee.

---

When Jason was peacefully sipping coffee by the counter, watching the clerk restore a book more than studying his own for clues, someone else entered the shop. Jason was about to ignore the customer, but the clerk looked so frightened toward the entrance that Jason turned around himself.

There stood a blonde girl with two cups of coffee. She practically flew to the counter and nearly jumped over it to hug the clerk.

"Here's my little bookworm, gnawing such a big hole in the granite of science that you'll fall through it into oblivion!"

"And good morning to you too."

The clerk hugged his friend back, then took the coffee, downing it in one gulp. Apparently, ordinary coffee shop coffee was like a light snack to him, because that strong sludge he brewed for himself in his thermos he sipped with such pleasure that Jason could only wonder how many kilograms of beans went into it.

The girl stared at Jason in surprise, and he just waved hello:
"I can't believe someone actually comes here! I thought only you liked swallowing dust!"

"This is…" the clerk waved vaguely. "My regular customer."

"Is that so?" the girl squinted slyly, reminding Jason of Roy. However, she smiled at him cloyingly sweetly, throwing meaningful glances toward the clerk. "What exactly attracts you to this bookshop? The variety of literature? Antique books? Or someone else who's been gathering dust here alone?"

Jason smirked, feeling an instant liking for this girl.

"Steph!" the clerk took his friend's coffee and downed that too. She didn't care; she was examining Jason. "He's just looking for a special book here."

"Ah, I understand; we're all searching," she paused slightly, winking. "For our special someone." Another pause and a flirtatious wink. "Literary volume."

"You're going to scare away my only customer."

"Just a customer? Tim, sunshine, don't lie to me—you made him coffee. You won't even let me look at your favorite coffee maker!"

"It's very… peculiar. Has a personality. You have to be careful with it."

Jason sipped his coffee, enjoying the drama—and the feeling of being special, since apparently no one else was allowed near the coffee maker.

The girl extended her hand:
"My name's Steph, I'm Timmy's best friend, his sun and stars because fate itself brought us together. If anything happens to him, I'll kill everyone in this building first, then myself."

"Jason," Jason shook her hand, grinning. "We were brought together, rather, by a wizard I knocked out in this shop, receiving a proper scolding."

Steph immediately jerked toward him:
"Oh, Merlin, you're not going to…?"

"You violated the Statute of Secrecy; I'm wanted, so I propose a truce."

"Wanted?.." Steph threw a meaningful glance at Tim, who had no idea what to do in this situation and just hugged his thermos uncertainly. "Finally, some interesting acquaintances! Let Timmy make you more coffee, pour me some tea, and you can tell us what's going on here."

"This is a bookshop, not a café," Tim muttered discontentedly.

"Sunshine, what difference does it make where you have your dates? Go prepare it already."

Jason was delighted with Steph, but still offered to help Tim with the preparation, for which he received a threat of being hit with the duster. Steph said there was plenty of rainbow in this shop, not just that dusty stick, and in response, some clatter came from the back room, but Steph kept smiling sweetly and questioning Jason about his life.

---

When Jason, following his well-established morning habit, placed a cup of coffee on the bookshop counter—this time a coconut syrup latte, just for variety—Tim looked at the coffee with some reproach, then threw a miserable glance at Jason himself.

"Sorry about Steph; she can be too stubborn and unbearable sometimes, though she thinks it's part of her charm. Not that I can argue with that."

"She's lovely," Jason leaned on the counter. "And I should thank her, because now I at least know your name."

"Oh," Tim tilted his head in surprise, also leaning against the counter. They were so close that Jason could notice Tim smelled of coffee stronger than the cup itself. And his eyes were somehow darker now. "Maybe that was meant to stay a mystery. You're supposed to be the expert at those."

"I can reassure you: you're still a mystery to me."

"Yeah?" Tim slightly raised his eyebrows. "That's strange to hear from someone who belongs to some mysterious cult."

"It's not a cult."

"Steph said it sounded like a cult, and I trust her on things like that. She got top marks in Divination; that should tell you something."

"Not really; I left after second year."

"Why?"

Jason wasn't sure he wanted to show it, but Tim definitely wouldn't freak out—he hadn't even been fazed by a magical duel—so he extended his hand toward Tim, palm up, and a small flame danced on it. Tim looked surprised.

"Wandless magic?"

He carefully ran his fingertips over the flame, examining it. Jason lowered the temperature just in case, and Tim covered his palm with his own, watching the flame disappear. Jason was ready to melt himself, because although Tim's hands were icy, there was something very right about holding his hand. Almost holding—Jason was afraid that if he actually tried to take his hand, Tim would pull away again, so he just raised his body temperature, hoping to warm him.

"Ancient magic, now lost. It was supposed to kill me, but I absorbed it, and only the Shadows could help me learn to control it so it wouldn't burn me from the inside."

Tim abruptly lifted his gaze from their hands to Jason himself:
"And Hogwarts let you stay in such danger?"

"Weirder things happened at Hogwarts."

Tim squeezed his palm slightly and exhaled slowly:
"To hell with Hogwarts then," realizing he was simply holding Jason's hand, Tim quickly pulled away. "More coffee?"

"Of course; Steph planted a sense of my own importance in me, so now I only drink your coffee."

"She should have cultivated a sense of conscience in you instead; you've practically privatized this bookshop. You don't even bark at customers."

"First, some customers deserve it—that woman had no right to raise her voice at you," Jason began counting on his fingers expressively, making Tim smile. "Second, I'm privatizing you too; you come as a set with the shop and the coffee maker."

"And you said I was keeping you prisoner."

"We're mutual prisoners."

Tim snorted mockingly, covering his smile with his hand:
"Just don't tell Steph that; she'd lock us in this shop with some curse even you couldn't break."

Jason wanted to catch his hand and squeeze it like a minute ago.

"I won't even try."

Tim definitely blushed and looked away, and Jason understood there was no joke at all in his words about privatization.

---

Jason wasn't sure when his search had turned into a book club; just one day, when Steph joined their usual reading circle, he loudly closed a book and said:
"I don't understand why Nico started dating Will."

Steph pulled him toward her by the hand in surprise to see what he was reading, and Tim gasped:
"You're banned from this shop."

"I think his relationship with Jason had more interesting development," Jason continued, brewing more coffee for all three of them, because Tim was practically lying on the counter and didn't plan to get up. "He literally discussed his crush on Percy with him."

"That's like discussing a crush with best friends; everyone does that," Tim looked at him indignantly, completely missing Steph's mocking glance. Jason smiled at her, understanding, then returned to the discussion—and coffee machine filters.

"I just think it's banal."

"Banal isn't bad. They're cute together. You might as well say you ship Nico with Percy."

"I do what?.."

"No-no-no, let's just admit Annabeth is a goddess, and she and Percy are the perfect couple," Steph raised her hands. "I'll fight if you disagree."

"You only say that because you had a crush on her, and she looks like your girlfriend," Tim remarked. "And 'shipping' means wanting characters to be together. You'd know that if you had a phone. I'd send you such links."

"You're motivating him wrong," Steph gratefully accepted coffee from Jason. "Tell him you'll send photos of yourself. And hearts in messages."

"What photos? We're talking about a very important pairing that gives me moral support," Tim also accepted his mug, sipping while still lying down. "I should have surrendered my position and let you manage the coffee machine; you make excellent coffee."

"Yeah, and I ship excellently too, so Nico and Jason are the best couple."

"Don't ruin everything."

Steph slurped her drink:
"Are you sure we're still discussing 'Percy Jackson,' my dears?"

Jason shrugged, neither denying nor agreeing, and Tim first stared at his friend for a long time, then abruptly slid off the counter, settling closer to Jason to prove his point. He didn't even notice Steph heading for the exit; only Jason waved goodbye, and the girl gave him a thumbs up.

---

Tim was texting someone again, looking tense. He frowned and bit his lips, not even looking at the coffee cooling beside him. Jason approached the counter, barely restraining himself from looking at the phone screen. Whoever was ruining Tim's mood definitely deserved to be on the Shadows' death list.

"I need you to distract me from my mission and recommend a book."

It definitely worked, even though the distraction was needed more for Tim than for Jason himself, but Jason still smiled slightly when Tim locked his phone.

"What do you think about Shakespeare's best tragedies?"

Tim finally reached for his coffee, starting to slurp it loudly, and Jason couldn't help noticing how much more relaxed he looked, returning to his familiar environment: no furrowed brows or tense shoulders, just caffeine dependence and thoughtful finger-tapping on the cup.

"Sounds good," Jason moved away from the counter meaningfully so Tim would lead him to the right shelf. "What do you say about closing the shop early today? Customers are probably scared off by your murderousness caused by insomnia."

"Didn't scare you off."

"Maybe I'm attracted to that," Jason smirked when Tim looked surprised and stumbled slightly, giving Jason a chance to support him so he wouldn't fall. "But you really should sleep earlier; you look less and less like a human and more like an angry Red Cap guarding its dwelling."

Tim looked at him very sternly:
"So I'm not human deep down either. Deep inside, I'm that little dresser from 'Beauty and the Beast' with tiny hands clutching a bat, waiting around corners for stupid people besieging this castle."

Jason didn't know why this not-quite-understandable stream of words sounded so appealing, but he wanted to press Tim against the Shakespeare shelf and kiss him.

"That's what I said: Red Cap. Also angry with tiny hands."

"That's completely different; I refuse to live in a universe without musicals."

"So 'Beauty and the Beast' is a musical? You said before it was a cinematic masterpiece."

"And also a musical," Tim handed him a thick book, then looked at him thoughtfully. "Decision made: I'm texting Steph, and we're going to her place to watch musicals. Cass could use some cultural education too, so you two have no choice. At least you'll meet her."

"Of course, we'll suffer together now."

Tim smiled back:
"Maybe I shouldn't have given you Shakespeare's tragedies; you're dramatic enough yourself."

"Should have thought of that earlier; no turning back now."

Tim snorted mockingly and reached for his phone, apparently to text Steph:
"I just need to cancel previous plans and make sure Cass is free. You can start reading in the meantime."

"But after movie night, straight to bed, right?"

"As if."

"Little dressers need to save up anger and energy; it's rational—how else will you swing that bat?"

"You know how to persuade."

Jason could definitely count this as a personal victory, earning him a prize in the form of an especially warm look.

---

Tim sat on the armrest of his chair, taking a book from the nearby stack to flip through as well:
"I still think there must be logic."

Jason tilted his head back to look at Tim from below. Tim smiled cheekily, clearly enjoying this, for which he was immediately pulled down and now practically sat on Jason.

"You deprived me of my only moments of joy in this life."

"Working on your personal growth."

"One more word about my growth, and I'll put something in your coffee," Tim took the book from his hands and thoughtfully flipped through it while Jason stared at him. "Maybe you have some books about Clarion? Personal diaries?"

"I do; I can bring them for you to study," Jason took the book back so Tim wouldn't get distracted. "I need to return to the Shadows for a couple of days anyway."

"Why?"

"Officially—for a progress report. Unofficially—to visit my personal gremlin."

"Do they give those out as gifts when you join your sect?"

"No, mine's exclusive. You'll like him; he also enjoys making empty threats while stooping so low."

"That's it, that was the last straw; I advise you to be careful about what you drink."

"I'm immune to poisons," Jason shifted slightly so Tim could get more comfortable. Which he did, throwing his limbs over him and curling up almost like a kitten. "And I actually like your height. If you were taller, we wouldn't fit in this chair."

Tim snorted mockingly, continuing to wiggle.

"Are you trying to make a nest out of me?"

"Yes, I almost succeeded. And I didn't know you were so warm."

"It's the ancient cursed magic."

"Ah, of course. Is that always your excuse?"

"Get used to it."

"No way, keep me on my toes," Tim finally settled, and Jason pulled him closer. "I'm going to fall asleep now."

"Sleep."

"I'm at work."

"I'm your only customer; by that right, I'm ordering you to sleep. If anyone comes to bother you, I'll destroy them."

"God, Jason," Tim actually closed his eyes. "Threaten other people more often for the sake of my sleep; it sounds charming."

"And you said your standards were low."

"Standards—yes. Demands—no."

Jason smirked, feeling that at this rate he'd fall asleep too—in a not-very-comfortable position in a small worn-out chair surrounded by books, but with a precious load that amusingly snored in its sleep.

---

Damian had missed him so much that the first thing he did was drag him to the training hall to fight, kicking out all the other assassins. Jason hadn't even had time to unpack, only changing back into Shadow uniform before speaking with Talia, but even she, seeing her son's impatience, quickly let Jason go, saying England was his—the other Shadows had been sent to other countries to search.

When they both lay on the floor, trying to catch their breath after an exhausting training session, Jade deigned to move away from the wall she'd been leaning against and approached them with a tray holding a pitcher and glasses. Damian immediately grabbed for water.

"I can't believe this is how you greet people," Jade bared her teeth at Jason personally. "He missed you so much; he was just agonizing with longing."

"I never doubted Dami was so sensitive," Jason replied in the same oily tone. "But I'm back to continue adorning your life."

"Finally, an end to the tears and sorrow."

Damian looked from one to the other:
"I hate you both, and who told you you could talk to me like that?"

Jason and Jade exchanged glances, then both pressed their fists to their chests:
"Dark glory to our dark leader!"

Damian rolled his eyes and leaned his shoulder against Jason, starting to dig through his bag of belongings:
"You clearly weren't bored in the Muggle world. Jade said Roy heard lots of interesting stories from you."

Jason had only sent a couple of letters; he didn't think Roy was such a gossip, but apparently, his brains completely failed around Jade, who shamelessly exploited this.

"Of course, I was looking for souvenirs for you," Jason tried, without much hope, to change the subject, pulling out botany books from his bag. "A personal selection, so you have even more topics for loving conversations with your Hufflepuff."

Damian's gaze instantly became murderous, though he accepted the books:
"I appreciate the gift, but don't worry about me and Colin."

Despite all the jokes, Jason couldn't help but worry. Colin was a Muggle-born wizard studying in his sixth year at Hogwarts, who had somehow magically tamed their little monster, so much so that Damian visited him at Hogwarts whenever possible. Jason had only seen Colin from a distance when covering for Damian with the Shadows so his dates could remain secret—after all, the leader of the Shadows shouldn't have weaknesses, especially not non-pure-blood ones. He and Jade did their best to provide cover for Damian's relationship, because the kid deserved some kind of life; he already had complicated family relations, often quarreling with his mother over plans for their League, and seeing his father once every few years, where he judgmentally lectured him about the Shadows not being his place.

And now Jason didn't know what to do about Tim, because he genuinely liked him. Liked spending time with him, discussing books and sipping coffee, liked arguing over little things, whether Magneto's philosophy or music groups, liked that Tim wasn't like everyone Jason had known at Hogwarts—there was no judgment or prejudice in him; he simply accepted Jason, both his curse and his membership in the Shadows. And Tim had a charming laugh, he amusingly pouted when their arguments went on too long, and always caringly made him coffee. Jason liked to think that maybe one day they could have something. Someday, when there wouldn't be this wall of stereotypes and prejudices between them.

The truth was, Jason didn't want to stop because of some stupid wall.

"You have hearts in your eyes," Jade smirked, bringing him back to reality. "And why does Dami get a personal selection, but I don't?"

"A personal selection of stuffed animals from Roy awaits you," Jason replied, moving his bag away from Damian, because it was better he didn't know how many books he'd bought during this time. "All cursed and fluffy, just how you like them."

Jade simply stood up and left, loudly slamming the door. Damian bared his teeth:
"Looks like she ran off for those stuffed animals after all," then his tone became more serious: "You need to be careful that no one finds out about your Muggle from the bookshop."

"I know, Dami," Jason ruffled his hair, making Damian immediately move away and then simply rest his head on his lap. "Always so caring."

"When I officially become leader, I'll change the rules, so you can safely bring him here."

Jason smirked, stroking Damian's hair.

Maybe coming home wasn't so bad.

---

Timothy Jackson Drake lived in a good area of London and could always proudly say that he was, thank god, absolutely ordinary. Of all people, you'd never expect him to end up in any strange or mysterious situation.

His parents were often away due to work, so most of the time he was left to his own devices, reading books, playing video games, and doing everything an ordinary child does.

Tim finished school and got two higher degrees as an external student—maybe a bit above average, but still absolutely ordinary. He received many job offers from large companies but wasn't sure what he wanted.

And then, at one of the book fairs he often attended, he met a somewhat extravagant girl who spoke with a strong French accent. He helped her find the book she was looking for, and she simply gave him her business card, saying she'd found even more than just a book today—and perhaps he had too. Google, strangely, yielded no results, and that was strange, but Tim decided to take a risk. Arriving at the address, he saw an antique bookshop. It was surprisingly empty, and the girl he'd met at the fair happily greeted him and began a small tour. That's how he ended up with a job his parents didn't like, because they wanted more for him, but which he liked, because he felt like a character in some amazing story—with the only difference being that he was completely ordinary, so nothing happened to him, except that for very simple work with hardly any customers, he received too large a salary—but that wasn't something to complain about.

One day, his shop was visited by a very sweet girl who smelled pleasantly of berries and flowers. She was looking for books on divination, and Tim quickly found them for her. That would have been the end of it, but Tim went out to take out the trash and saw behind the shop some guy harassing that girl, holding a knife to her throat. He immediately moved toward her, but she handled it perfectly herself.

She threw him against the wall with a magic wand.

It wasn't a knife he'd pointed at her.

They were wizards.

The girl noticed Tim and froze in surprise, unsure what to do. Many questions swirled in Tim's head, but he only asked if she was okay and offered to get coffee to recover—for both of them.

During their conversation, Tim learned much about the world he lived in. Magic, Hogwarts, potions, houses… It was all too much.

But, most importantly, he found himself a best friend, because Stephanie decided not to erase his memory, but to make him her "buddy-boo." Despite being from different worlds, they often saw each other, having musical marathons, walking around the city, and discussing their acquaintances.

If not for this incident, Tim still considered himself normal. Stable job, ordinary hobbies, even found himself a boyfriend. Bernard was very sweet, calm, and reliable. They could spend entire nights watching series and going to conventions, holding hands and casually bumping shoulders.

And then magic burst into Tim's world again, only this time Steph wasn't around. When the shop owner visited him again, instead of her usual baked goods, she brought some cursed artifact she was trying to crack, floating in the air around the books. Tim, in shock, watched this scene for a while, then offered help, because it turned out Zatanna's father was in danger, and they needed to break the spell on a helmet. They cracked the code together, enabling Zatanna to derive the spell formula; she hugged him and simply vanished into thin air. Life goes on. What wouldn't you do for a bonus. Besides, Tim had no chance to process what he'd seen anyway, because Steph was on vacation with her girlfriend in another country, and Bernard didn't know about magic, and Tim had no other friends. But upon her return, Steph talked his ear off, saying she'd studied at school with Zatanna's father and also knew her ex. Basically, Tim got to hear the juiciest Hogwarts gossip.

When Tim met Cass, he really liked her, especially how she treated Steph. Tim was sure he'd be a bridesmaid at their wedding.

When Tim introduced Steph to Bernard, Bernard had nothing but good things to say about his friend. But Bernard always said good things—he was very polite and well-mannered, and always agreed with Tim when he started his tirades about where the Marvel cinematic universe was going. When he and Steph argued about who was cooler, the X-Men or the Avengers, Bernard didn't even take sides, saying both teams were cool, and then just intertwined his fingers with Tim's and suggested getting strawberry smoothies from that new shop everyone was talking about on Instagram.

Steph said that if Bernard were ice cream, he'd be plain ice, not even fruit-flavored. She didn't like him, and after every date she asked Tim what it was like dating a laptop stand.

"We have a good relationship. Stable. Without problems."

"Yeah, and without feelings too," Steph took his hands in hers. "I understand Bernard is nice, he genuinely likes you, but you can't even talk to him normally, always holding back. You need someone on your wavelength. He couldn't even get you to bed when you had a fever."

"It's hard to distract me from work."

"I even got Cass to take potions when she was sick before a match, because health is more important, and you know how much she loves Quidditch. I just think you need someone who truly cares about you and can stand their ground. Who actually has their own opinion. Forget plain ice; you need a cone with lots of different flavors and coconut sprinkles on top; you can't settle for less than you deserve."

"But I like Bernard."

"You're comfortable with him, sweetie; that's not the same as liking him."

Tim wasn't sure she was right. Yes, they didn't see each other often, because Tim had work and Bernard had university, and Tim didn't want to go to parties, while Bernard was frankly bored in the bookshop, since Tim couldn't sit around cuddling or whatever. Maybe their conversations weren't as funny or deep as they could be, but they weren't bad either.

Tim didn't think he should change anything if these relationships satisfied him. He'd never believed in butterflies in the stomach and other nonsense written in teen novels anyway.

---

When a wizard literally flew into a shelf right in front of Tim and fell unconscious, Tim could only ask why this was happening to him.

He had a normal life without magic. He was absolutely, definitely not a wizard. Why was fate treating him like this.

Tim just gloomily asked the other wizard to clean up after himself, because Tim couldn't wave a wand. The wizard, for some reason, didn't erase his memory, just started cleaning up the mess. Tim watched in surprise, ready to activate the artifact Zatanna had given him just in case, but apparently, there was no need.

---

When that same wizard came to him with coffee, Tim didn't know what surprised him more: that he'd been allowed to live with his memory intact, or that he'd been bought coffee as an apology.

Though, the stranger moved too close to him, making him feel uncomfortable. Tim valued his personal space, and certainly wanted to keep his distance from dark wizards who so simply and skillfully disposed of bodies. Maybe he'd find his book today and leave the shop alone.

Tim watched the stranger leave, thinking that for a dark wizard, he was too strange. And attractive. But evil is often attractive; maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Tim just texted Bernard, suggesting they meet that evening.

The date was a bit bland—maybe because Tim hadn't recovered from the fact that a dark wizard was hanging out in his shop, maybe because Steph's words about ice cream had imprinted on his subconscious. Tim kissed Bernard on the cheek goodbye, making him smile shyly, and then, brewing coffee at home, tried to understand if he'd felt anything.

---

It was actually not bad—having company in the shop. Tim might have gone a bit feral, since Steph and Bernard didn't see him that often, but not that much.

However, his new regular customer was even helpful. He helped with books and cleaning, and sometimes inserted inappropriate yet funny comments. At first, Tim tried to keep in mind that this was, after all, a dark wizard, so maybe he shouldn't giggle at his jokes, but at some point he got so used to their fleeting conversations that he just gave up, and even made coffee for his regular customer. For this, he was rewarded with such a warm look that Tim could easily make a habit of it.

---

Tim was used to thinking of himself as the whole Scooby-Doo team combined, so when the dark wizard who'd taken up residence in his shop started telling him about secret treasures, Tim had stopped caring about what was normal and what wasn't.

"Maybe if you stopped looking murderously at every customer, I'd promote you from simple buyer to my Sherlock's Watson."

"Oh?" the wizard loomed over the counter—and over Tim too, while he was repairing a cover. "Is that your motivation instead of discount cards?"

"Is it working?"

"I'd prefer a coupon for that workshop you do," the wizard looked with interest at the tools. "We usually fix everything with Reparo, but I want to try."

"Understood," Tim squinted predatorily. "You want to lower yourself to our level and go make fire with rocks and sticks."

"Or," he smiled warmly, crossing his arms, "I just want to participate in your hobby. You never know when such a skill might come in handy."

Tim had to admit it sounded tempting. He liked books, whether reading or restoring them, but usually few people were interested in such meticulous work, and sharing his interest with someone would be nice. He moved his chair closer.

"Then in exchange, you'll teach me how to dispose of bodies."

"I promise, as soon as I get one, I'll bring it here for experiments."

Tim snorted mockingly and began explaining the purpose of each tool.

---

Perhaps something like this was to be expected from Steph when she typhooned into the bookshop and in an instant founded a fan club in Jason's name. Tim was, of course, glad to finally learn his name, but it was still strange. However, Steph now constantly asked how Jason was doing, if they'd moved in together yet, when the wedding was—all in that vein.

"You said yourself he's a dark wizard from some cult."

"As if that bothers you, sunshine," Steph sipped her fruit tea—at hers and Cass's apartment, they had this instead of coffee, which Tim could never understand. "You're clearly more interested in how handsome and smart he is."

Tim could only awkwardly mumble in response, because, actually…

"I have a boyfriend."

"Who definitely doesn't make you smile like Jay does."

"You call him that now?"

"I'm his only moral support when you go off on your literary critiques," Steph wiggled her eyebrows slyly. "Though he actually likes it."

Tim again preferred to make unintelligible sounds in response.

He really still had a boyfriend who definitely wasn't connected to anything magical and forbidden. The safe option.

Jason definitely wasn't that.

But he liked spending time with Tim in the bookshop, sometimes distracted from his search to help with cleaning, make coffee, or just chat, leaning close to him behind the counter, which immediately made everything warmer. Tim guessed Jason was just using his cursed magic, and was grateful, though it made him want to snuggle up to Jason like a big thermos. And maybe not just snuggle. Someday Tim would like to know what Jason's smile tasted like.

Tim tried not to think about how evil really could be very attractive.

"No, sunshine, really, you're like a typical romance heroine. Found yourself a bad boy from some magical mafia and decided to reform him with your books and cute smiles."

"Maybe I don't want to reform him," Tim sipped his sweetish tea. "Maybe I want him to corrupt me."

Steph instantly choked on her drink.

---

At some point, after much brainwashing from Steph, Tim finally understood that it was flirting. Jason had flirted with him many times, and Tim didn't know what to do about it.

Because part of him wanted to keep his distance, remembering Bernard existed.

Another part of him was ready to ride off into the magical sunset, holding hands with Jason.

And after Tim practically fell asleep on him, after a long day when Jason had left the bookshop twice to buy them food, after their long discussions about ciphers in books and a workshop on cover restoration, Tim realized it was finally happening. Those butterflies in the stomach that made everything twist inside when Jason moved close to him, flashing his smirk and warming him with those blue eyes, or when he pulled Tim close, sitting in that old armchair, and Tim could comfortably settle on him, no longer needing heating or hot drinks—or rationality, because he wanted to run his hand through his hair, bury his fingers in it, kiss the sharp line of his jaw, and just hold him forever. Steph said she knew from the first glance, again bragging about her Divination grades. Tim could only boast that he'd kept his hands to himself, but when Jason went back to his cult, and Tim had been alone in the shop for four days, every time looking at the door with longing when a random customer entered, Tim realized he missed their peaceful arguments and silent reading with rare comments from Jason, filled with his usual sarcasm and desire to make Tim laugh.

Tim finally decided to meet with Bernard for a serious conversation and end things, because it wasn't fair to Bernard, who deserved better. Steph promised to pick him up after the meeting and Apparate them to her and Cass's place, where they'd throw a party to celebrate. Tim didn't see anything joyful about it. First, because he hated Apparition; it felt like being stuffed into a washing machine on high power with a spin cycle at the end. Second, because he didn't want to upset Bernard and jump into the unknown without being entirely sure about what was happening with him and Jason, who was still a dark wizard from some mysterious cult that probably wouldn't approve of relationships with a Muggle.

But Jason was worth all the risks, so Tim texted Bernard asking to meet.

---

When Jason returned to the antique bookshop, he felt like Damian's cat finally getting access to his favorite box. Comfortable, cozy—what more could you need?

Tim came out from behind the counter to meet him, looking especially agitated. He was fidgeting with his cardigan sleeve and looked sleepy, and Jason simply pulled him into a hug, smelling that familiar coffee scent. Amortentia would probably smell like that to him—coffee and books. Tim unexpectedly hugged him back, burying his face in his shoulder and touchingly rising on his toes. Jason was ready right now to pick him up and carry him to the Shadow base, if it were safe there.

"So, Nathan Drake," Tim pulled back slightly, gracing him with a shy smile, "ready to go treasure hunting again?"

Jason wanted to say he'd already found what he was looking for, but he just handed Tim the notes about Clarion that Talia had graciously provided.

"Hope this helps."

Actually, Jason hoped the opposite, because finding the grimoire meant he'd have to return to the League permanently.

Tim curiously opened the first book, and Jason immediately dragged him to the armchair to read there.

---

It was definitely mistletoe.

Jason was sure because Dick had once talked his ear off about it, but Jason had only ever seen the plant in Hogwarts. Definitely not in the Shadows, and nothing would survive in Roy's shop.

But what was it doing in a bookshop—unclear.

Tim silently approached and also stared upward:
"This is Steph's doing. She said she'd decorate the whole ceiling with it, but I kicked her out in time. Apparently, she still managed to conjure it."

"I didn't realize Christmas was so close."

"Surprisingly, it even snowed outside, and I've already slipped twice and almost fallen."

"Maybe you need an escort?" Jason looked away from the mistletoe and noticed Tim fidgeting with his sweater sleeve again. "Or I could cast an anti-slip charm on you."

"I'd rather write another email to the government about how sidewalks need to be sanded more thoroughly," Tim sighed heavily, not taking his eyes off the mistletoe. "Can you remove it with magic? I'm afraid some crazy customer might come in and we'd end up under it. That's definitely not in my contract."

The last thing Jason wanted was for Steph's efforts to go to waste. She'd sent him three owls already, saying it was the perfect time of year to visit bookshops. There were also threats, but clearly out of love.

"Can't we make an exception for particularly crazy customers?"

Tim tilted his head bird-like, not understanding, and Jason only smirked wider. When Tim realized Jason was serious, he just exhaled raggedly and quietly said:
"I suppose for regular crazy customers, an exception could be made as a Christmas bonus."

Jason wasn't about to miss such a chance, but he gave Tim the opportunity to reconsider and back away as he extremely slowly placed his hands on his waist, pulling him closer, then leaned in and carefully kissed him. Tim did nothing slowly; he grabbed Jason's shoulders, slightly parting his lips. Jason thought this was even more painful than the curse, and barely contained the flame inside.

Tim had soft, slightly chapped lips that were mind-blowingly pleasant to kiss. He tasted like coffee, and when Jason pressed him harder, running his tongue over the bloody cracks on his lips, Tim made a tiny sound that made Jason freeze entranced and pull back slightly. Tim was still gripping his clothes and looking at him with worry and slight impatience, and now his eyes were dark-dark, and Jason wanted to see all the darkness hidden in them, so he picked Tim up to sit him more comfortably on the nearest surface. The counter probably wasn't meant for such purposes, but Jason didn't care when Tim, gasping in surprise, moved his hands to his neck, fingers sliding up into his hair.

Jason mentally checked out the moment Tim allowed him to press his lips to his neck, to that sensitive spot where Jason could feel the frantic heartbeat and his own desire to kiss it, leaving dark marks on pale skin, making Tim's breath hitch more, his fingers tremble more, his body almost uncontrollably press harder against Jason—harder-harder-harder.

Jason carefully waved his wand, locking the door, while his free hand slipped under the dinosaur t-shirt, pushing it up to touch skin. Tim exhaled loudly and unevenly and cupped Jason's face in his hands, pulling him in for a kiss. Jason got rid of his wand, setting it somewhere on the counter, so he could run both hands over Tim's thighs and receive a quiet moan into the kiss. He wanted to kiss-bite-lick and lock them in this bookshop, and the last grains of self-control were irreversibly melting with each new kiss. Jason had definitely never felt such a need to be with someone, such desire, such heat—he wanted to explain this to Tim, but instead of words, he could only leave kisses on every centimeter of his skin. Tim tugged at his shirt with obvious intent, and Jason pulled it up, still unable to stop kissing him.

Maybe words weren't so necessary in that moment as touch was, and the clouded look in those dark-gray eyes that held adoration.

---

Jason knew perfectly well he could fall asleep anywhere, even in the not-so-large armchair in the antique shop. Tim clearly didn't know about this ability of his own, because when he woke up, he looked at Jason with a not-yet-fully-conscious gaze, but quite surprised. Jason kissed him as a good morning wish, and Tim smirked against his lips.

"Can't believe Steph's plan actually worked."

"You don't get top marks in Divination for nothing," Jason tucked a strand of Tim's hair behind his ear, and Tim rubbed his cheek against his hand, squinting sleepily. Jason clearly realized he'd rather commit mass genocide than let Tim go. "Can I perform a ritual with you?"

"Ritual," Tim nodded slowly. "I should have known this was coming when I got involved with a cult member."

"A blood ritual is even aesthetic. My personal gremlin recommended it, so it's sure to work."

Tim simply settled more comfortably on him, touchingly running his nose along his neck:
"Do whatever you want, as long as you make coffee afterward."

"You don't seem like you're planning to let me go anytime soon."

"What's magic for: make coffee remotely."

Jason smirked and reached for his dagger as carefully as possible not to disturb Tim. He had to act while Tim was so agreeable, because Jason didn't quite know how he'd answer all the questions about the ritual's nature.

"Oh, actually bloody," Tim commented when Jason made a small cut on his own palm, and he willingly extended his hand to Jason, letting the dagger cut it too. "This isn't an initiation ritual, is it?"

"Nope."

"Good, because I want a little gremlin as a gift too."

"Unlikely. My gremlin, Dami—the cult leader—is one of a kind."

"At least you admitted it's a cult."

Jason joined their hands, speaking the incantation in Arabic. When their palms glowed, Tim finally sat up slightly, the sleepiness instantly vanishing from his gaze. Jason felt a slight tingling—it had worked.

"You actually magicked me," Tim, as soon as Jason separated their hands, looked at his palm, where the cut was already gone. "Flynn Rider probably felt something like this."

"It's a protection ritual," Jason half-lied, carefully extracting himself from the chair to finally make coffee. "Just in case."

He kissed Tim's temple and headed for the coffee maker, deliberately ignoring the not-too-convinced look.

---

Another book turned out to be a disappointment, and Jason put it back on the shelf, wondering whether to start on the next one or take a break and bother Tim, distracting him from work.

Of course, Jason chose the latter and casually leaned on the counter, watching Tim fill out some report on his laptop.

"You're typing so viciously."

"And I've only had three cups of coffee."

"It's not even noon yet, Timbo."

Tim didn't react to the nickname, only slightly raising his eyebrows, but Jason wasn't so easily deterred.

"I propose a proper lunch instead of coffee."

"Denied."

"Not accepted."

Tim stuck out his tongue and was about to say something sarcastic when someone entered. Jason intended to wait until the customer chose their book and left, so he could continue his hands-on approach and ignore his mission, but the newcomer immediately approached the counter, smiling at Tim, and Jason didn't like that.

"Bernard?" Tim looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Hi," the guy approached the counter and kept smiling, completely ignoring the assassin staring at him with murderous intent. Big mistake. "I think I left my player here somewhere. Have you seen it by any chance?"

Jason had many questions, because he'd never seen this Bernard before, and Tim had never mentioned him. Neither had Steph—and she was the most reliable source of information, dumping Tim's favorite coffee syrups and awkward life incidents on Jason.

"Might have missed it," Tim moved so Bernard could come behind the counter. "You can look yourself."

The guy smiled again and started telling him about university while asking Tim about some newly announced console games. Jason knew nothing about university or games, and right now felt left out. Especially left out of Tim's attention.

When Bernard finally found his player and left, promising to text sometime, Jason just silently raised an eyebrow in a mute question, unsure if he had the right to ask aloud.

Tim just shrugged:
"My ex."

Jason had no trouble connecting the facts. If Bernard had only now discovered his missing player, he must have been in the bookshop not long ago. Tim was probably texting him, lamenting the complications of human relationships. It seemed they'd only recently broken up, which would explain why Tim had reacted strangely to closeness with him for a while, whether it was too long a look or accidental touch.

Tim clearly understood what conclusions Jason might draw:
"We broke up not long ago, when I realized he deserved someone better, and I didn't want 'normal' relationships, but real ones," and then added, more quietly: "Steph terrorized me for weeks, saying I should accept my feelings for you."

"I suppose," Jason pulled Tim closer, hugging him, "I should thank her."

"She only accepts thanks in chocolate form."

"I'll figure something out," Jason finally reached for the kiss he was owed.

---

Tim looked like he'd done several death-defying loops on a broom chasing the Snitch:
"There it is!"

He presented the book to Jason so triumphantly that only fanfares were missing.

"The notes said Clarion hated Merlin, and in the epic section, we have a book on Arthuriana. And in this book, Merlin is depicted as the most worthless wizard who ever lived."

Jason flipped through the book and could confirm that what was written didn't match reality. In their second year, they'd covered Merlin's biography in History—he was one of Hogwarts' most famous graduates—so Jason roughly knew the plot that should have been on these pages, but it was heavily distorted. No doubt about it.

"Now we just need to figure out how to reveal the grimoire's true form," Jason began reading carefully, plopping into the armchair. Tim immediately sat on him, also reading. "Maybe there's a hint for some spell. There's mention of water spells here; maybe that's it."

"Given how narcissistic Clarion is described, I'd bet the spell is his own creation."

"We haven't found many of his spells yet, but it's worth trying."

"It won't destroy the book?"

"In theory, even fire won't destroy it, but burning all the books to find one would be bad form."

"How sweet that you decided not to set my shop on fire."

"Yeah, you'd definitely hit me with your duster for that."

Jason waved his wand, performing one of Clarion's water spells that he remembered. And he remembered plenty, being practically an expert due to how often he'd had to search for Clarion's artifacts.

All the color seemed to wash out of the book, and now it looked ancient, with a black cover without inscriptions and pages covered in Old English. Jason didn't know it well enough to read fluently, but there was no doubt: the grimoire described time magic.

Tim gasped in surprise and asked:
"Time travel exists? Like in science fiction?"

"I'm afraid so," Jason handed the book to Tim so he could flip through it to his heart's content. Apparently, Old English wasn't a problem for him. Could he be any more attractive? "I need to return to the League to deliver the find."

"Oh," Tim immediately closed the book. "I see."

Jason hastened to kiss him, gently turning him back toward him. The grimoire didn't interest him as much as the fact that Tim needed assurance that Jason wasn't just going to disappear from his life.

"I'm still your regular customer. Don't forget that."

Tim smirked, then reached for another kiss, also more interested not in the book, but in nimbly straddling Jason.

---

Talia was, naturally, over the moon. As much as she could be in such a state. At least her lips stretched into a sinister smile, and she said Jason could rest for a while. She ordered another assassin to bring Tone to her.

Jason hurried to find Damian. He was training with Jade, as usual taking out all his emotions through magic.

"World domination is practically in our pocket," Jason said with feigned delight, leaning against the wall.

Damian frowned, clearly not considering the discovery of the grimoire a joyful event.

Jade just rubbed her temple:
"I'll write to my sister," she turned to Damian. "Since war is definitely unavoidable, you'd better drag your Hufflepuff here."

Jason could only watch as Damian left the hall, loudly slamming the door.

---

Tim had expected something like this, jumping without a safety net into the black abyss called a relationship. I mean, Jason hadn't given him any promises.

Steph said things weren't calm in the magical world, so there must be a reason Jason hadn't been in the shop for a month. She also added that if there wasn't a reason, she'd go to war against Jason herself. Cass managed to calm the raging girl, but Tim couldn't calm down.

Something really was happening beyond Muggle view. Zatanna, who usually visited him a couple of times a year, had already come five times, picking up some books and urging him to take a paid vacation somewhere abroad.

And then wizards burst into the shop, looking like they were cosplaying characters from Assassin's Creed games. Tim had no idea what the uniform of the cult Jason belonged to looked like, but probably something like this.

One of the wizards waved his wand in his direction, pinning him to the wall; Tim didn't even have time to activate Zatanna's artifact, which would have called her for help. Three more started doing something with the books. Unclear what they were searching for—the grimoire had already been found—but maybe this wasn't the only treasure Zatanna might be secretly keeping here. This was definitely "The Purloined Letter." Tim would have found the thought amusing if he weren't about to be killed.

"Back."

The voice sounded very threatening, and Tim mentally prepared for the worst. The wizard who'd been pointing his wand at him lowered it, and Tim landed awkwardly, hitting himself hard. Another cult member entered the shop, but his clothing differed somewhat from the others. The other assassins immediately knelt on one knee, and it wasn't hard to guess that this was someone higher in the hierarchy.

"He's not to be touched; he has the mark."

Tim could say with certainty that he had no mark. He'd probably know if he'd joined some cult.

"You can sense it?.." one of the assassins asked quietly. He received such an eloquent look that he obediently lowered his head, apologizing in Arabic.

The leader carefully examined Tim, squinting dangerously in his direction, then loudly commanded:
"Nguyen."

The girl in the cat mask stepped forward, confidently approaching Tim. She took his hand and directed her wand at his palm, causing Tim's skin to glow gold.

"He really is bound."

"Take him to Nanda Parbat," the leader ordered, crossing his arms. "The rest—continue the search."

The girl pressed her fist to her chest, apparently accepting the order, and then the world before Tim's eyes spun, and he immediately understood they were Apparating. As much as Tim hated the subway, even public transport was preferable to this.

The room they landed in was richly furnished with comfortable-looking furniture, everything predominantly in gold tones. Tim leaned against the cool wall, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

The girl meanwhile removed her mask and smirked crookedly:
"Welcome to your new home."

Tim was still nauseous, but he tried to sound confident rather than like he was about to faint from fear:
"Do you have a witness protection program or something here?"

"No, you're stuck here now," she glanced thoughtfully at her watch. "At least until Damian returns. In the meantime, I can offer you coffee. I heard you find that drink quite attractive."

"Heard?.."

Her smile widened:
"As if I wouldn't have heard about Jay's object of affection."

Tim understood nothing anymore, only braced his hands on the nearest table to keep from falling, because his legs weren't holding him after the Apparition.

He had so many questions.

---

As it turned out, the girl who'd transported him to the main Shadow base was named Jade, and she not only kindly offered him unlimited coffee but also charmingly told him in full detail how much Jason had sighed over him, driving her and Damian crazy with it. Tim found it hard to believe, but probably Jason felt about the same when Steph captured him, telling him how many advantages Tim had that made him the perfect boyfriend.

And then the leader who'd been in the bookshop Apparated into the room. He sat at their table, and Jade immediately poured him tea, sending Tim an understanding smile. Tim already knew from Jade that this was the leader of the Shadows, but he hadn't thought the terror of the magical world would be a teenager. But, he had to admit, he had a very professional piercing gaze; Tim even awkwardly set his cup aside.

"Timothy Jackson Drake," the leader said instead of a greeting. "I hope you understand why you shouldn't leave my domain until Jason returns."

"Dami, he doesn't understand anything," Jade propped her chin on her hand. "And don't look at him like that; Jason didn't interrogate Colin, so you relax too."

"Dami?" Tim repeated in surprise, remembering the name. "Jason's little gremlin?"

It seemed strange that Jason would speak that way about his leader, essentially, but looking at him now, Tim understood why. When Jason talked about Damian, he sounded especially caring, maybe because he perceived Damian as a younger brother rather than the leader of this cult of his.

Jade covered her mouth, giggling uncontrollably, and Damian looked like he was ready to throw an Unforgivable Curse at Tim.

"Of course Jay would brag about his little one to you," Jade said in a cloyingly sweet tone. "You should see how they get along; it's adorable."

Damian continued staring at him, and Tim could only sigh heavily.

---

Damian, as it turned out, was constantly grumpy, but Tim couldn't help noticing he was gradually warming up to him. He'd either order coffee brought to his room ("chambers," as he called it), or bring some games like Go or chess, saying he wanted to destroy him at them, or ask about books. Sometimes it was hard to believe this kid was really the leader of the Shadows.

When another chess game ended with Tim's victory, Damian gave him a particularly attentive look:
"My mother wants to meet you."

Tim noisily set his cup aside:
"Why? I thought she didn't have a high opinion of Muggles."

"But you helped find Clarion's grimoire," Damian tilted his head slightly, as if weighing his words. "And you are also Jason's spouse, and because of that, she… somewhat wants to get rid of you."

Tim was silent for a minute, processing the information. Damian had rather strange phrasing, definitely not typical for teenagers with their "cringe" and "gaslighting"; he was more like Mr. Darcy in manner, not knowing what to do with his feelings. It would be funny if Tim himself weren't at the center of this story.

"So why is she hesitating to kill me?"

"Because of your mark. The blood ritual doesn't even allow me to hand you over to her against your will. Not that I have such intentions, but for her, Jason's action was a surprise."

"Is that magic so strong?"

"The strongest and most ancient, going back to the origins of the al Ghuls. All blood magic has special power."

"But Jason isn't part of your family, is he?"

"He's part of the Shadows, my close associate; it's almost the same thing. I passed on knowledge of the ritual to him, and that raises some questions from my mother."

Tim leaned back in his chair, thinking:
"So Jason foresaw this outcome and performed a protection ritual? If he's now on some mission far away, sent there by Talia, shouldn't the protection, I don't know, weaken or something?"

Damian looked at him with open sympathy:
"Don't tell me he really didn't tell you about the ritual. I don't want to deal with his relationships," Tim kept staring at him uncomprehendingly, and Damian sighed heavily. "Timothy, do you even know what this ritual means? Besides protection."

"I thought that was the main point."

Damian looked so miserable telling him this that Tim braced for the worst:
"It's a ritual of eternal bonding, blood to blood, heart to heart. Among your kind, I believe it's customary to exchange rings in churches. In the Shadows, it's a bit different."

Jason had definitely not mentioned this. Tim would have remembered even in his sleepy state.

His palms immediately sweated with excitement, and Tim felt like he was Apparating again.

"This is a marriage ritual?"

"I've called you Jason's spouse several times now. I don't understand why you're surprised."

Tim dropped his face into his hands, wondering what questions to start with when he finally talked to Jason upon his return. Talia would have to wait; Tim had more important business with Jason.

"I understand why you're angry," Damian continued evenly. "And you have every right to tell him off in the most unflattering terms when you meet, and to choose any punishment."

It was nice that Damian was on his side, but that didn't negate the fact that they'd been married all this time, and Tim hadn't even known.

When Jade flounced into the room, she immediately read the situation:
"Oh, so you figured out that Jay abandoned you on your honeymoon? If you want, I'll fight him with blades for your honor."

"That would be more than acceptable," Damian nodded gloomily.

Tim laughed nervously, wondering when his life had turned into a circus on wheels and he'd become the main clown in this blue-flame-burning arena.

---

Jade was just teaching Tim to fight with sabers when a terrible roar sounded from somewhere outside. Damian, who'd been reading a book about poisonous plants, didn't look surprised.

"Apparently, the mission went somewhat problematically, but at least Jason finally flew in."

Tim thought his ability to be surprised had atrophied, but no.

"Jason made that sound?" Tim asked in a flat voice.

"Yeah, in dragon form," Jade looked too pleased explaining. "Because of his curse, when he uses too much fire power, he turns into a dragon for a while. You can go pet him if you want."

"Or attack him with a saber," Damian added, boredly returning to his book. "It would be deserved."

Tim went through the long corridors outside anyway. Surprisingly, they were empty. Maybe other Shadow members preferred to stay away from the cursed dragon, and Tim didn't blame them.

Outside, there really was a giant dragon. He was settled on the steps of a wide, incredibly long staircase that Tim never wanted to use. His red scales shimmered in the sunlight, and his eyes sparkled emerald green. Upon seeing Tim, he emitted a little puff of smoke and lowered his head to the ground, looking guilty.

God, Jason really was a dragon. And he'd finally returned.

Tim thought he had nothing left to lose, so he approached and placed his palm on the huge snout. Almost like petting a normal lizard. With the difference that normal lizards weren't the size of shopping centers and didn't emit flames.

"You have no idea how long a conversation we need to have."

The dragon growled guiltily, the sound sending shivers down Tim's spine.

"And don't give me those puppy-dog eyes; I won't fall for it. FYI, Jade promised to fight you for my honor, and I intend to take her up on it."

Instead of answering, Jason carefully pushed a wing toward him and nodded somewhere behind.

"Are you offering me a ride on your back? Are you insane?"

Jason nodded, growling again. Tim massaged his temples, but had to admit it sounded pretty cool. It's not every day you get a chance to ride a dragon, so he carefully climbed up the wing while Jason helped him balance, slightly curving.

"Just know that if I fall, you'll have another curse."

Another growl sounded almost like laughter. Tim couldn't help smiling back. Maybe all the questions could wait, since Jason had finally returned, even if with another surprise. Apparently, he really intended to keep Tim on his toes.

---

"You're deliberately training her and egging her on against me," Jason concluded, intercepting Jade's blade.

"It's called being a family therapist, Jay," Jade swept Jason's leg and flirtatiously winked at Tim.

"I'd like to decline your services."

"As your leader," Damian spoke up, adjusting Tim's stance, "I decide to ignore your refusal and officially appoint Jade as your family therapist."

"Ouch, Dami, after all we've been through?"

Tim understood perfectly that they were all just trying to distract themselves from what was happening outside the Shadow base, and could only play along, letting Jade and Damian teach him to fight with various non-magical weapons and recognize magical attacks, as if behind these stone walls a magical war wasn't unfolding.

Jason raised his hands in surrender, making Jade smirk especially nastily, then wrapped his arms around Tim, openly interfering with his training under Damian's strict guidance. The latter could only roll his eyes and drag Jade toward the exit, lamenting that the sacred walls of the Shadows continued to be desecrated in the most shameless manner.

"Jade definitely decided to retrain from my friend to your bodyguard."

"And rightly so, because justice is on my side."

"Also terrible audacity."

"That's your department," Tim rose on his toes to quickly kiss Jason, then press a blade to his throat. "And since you chased away my teacher, you'll have to finish my lesson today yourself."

Jason smirked, intercepting the weapon:
"It's impossible to fight you with your dirty tricks."

"Jade said flirting on the battlefield is the best technique."

"In that case, I hope I'm your only opponent," Jason pulled him closer by the waist. "When this is all over, we can go somewhere far away."

Usually no one talked to him about the magical war, and Tim could only nod not too confidently, placing his palm on Jason's cheek, where a healing scar from the last mission remained.

Maybe he didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but his right palm still slightly burned with warmth, and that gave him faith that there was at least one constant in his life.

Someday this war would end, whatever its outcome. Someday, relations between wizards and Muggles would become something natural, not forbidden.

And Tim still thought jumping into the unknown was worth it.