Utterly Enchanting [MxM] (Complete)

Part One

Each page of the old tomb felt as fragile as a butterfly's wings beneath Leander's careful fingers as he turned them. He would pause now and then to read the requirements of some little charm for good health or instructions for making a protective talisman, but none were quite right for his purposes. The Widow Carver had been very clear in her tearful request; she wanted her daughter married by autumn, and if that required a little magical intervention, so be it.

"I could have sworn there was a spell for love in here somewhere," he muttered, wishing his grandmother had included a table of contents, or perhaps a glossary of sorts. "Does arranging a grimoire's contents alphabetically take some of the mystery out of it?"

"No," Vespertine muttered without raising his eyes from a book of his own. "All the best magical texts are organized for ease of cross referencing."

Leander frowned in the necromancer's direction, offended on his dear grandmother's behalf. As always, Vespertine was lounging like a cat in the cushions and blankets he had stacked in the tower's bay window. He'd set up his little reading nook when he was first sent to stay with Leander, and moved from it only when evening came and the hearth provided more warmth. It seemed that to be cold as the grave was a sad reality for the sorcerers who devoted themselves to necromancy, much in the same way another alchemist could always recognize Leander's trade by the stains on his hands from whatever tincture he'd last created.

"I don't suppose you know any love spells?" Leander asked, offering a weak smile.

"If I did, I certainly wouldn't be explaining them to you." Vespertine narrowed his eyes and peered at Leander. He always knew how to put their uncanny shade of pale blue to use, and the venomous glare he was giving now was no exception. "Remind me, why is it the Council of Magi rejected your application for apprenticeship?"

"Because I melted a hole in the West Wing's floor," Leander muttered, shamefaced.

"Sorry, what was that? I can't quite hear you."

"Because I melted a hole in their floor!" The alchemist snapped. "But last I checked, this was as much your punishment as it was mine."

Vespertine shrugged, returning his gaze to his book. "You are being punished for incompetence. I am being punished because they were intimidated by my prowess."

Leander stared at him. "You made a ghoul out of a unicorn."

"Flawlessly, I might add," the necromancer said. A small smile tugged at the corners of his thin lips. "Which no one has done for a century."

"Probably because they executed the last person to do it," Leander muttered. "You should be more careful. Next time they might do more than give you a babysitter."

"Mm, I doubt it, but at least you'd finally be rid of me."

"That isn't funny!"

He had loathed Vespertine's presence at first. It was hard to say which of them had been more severely punished for their indiscretions: the necromancer, barred from his research for a year's time, or Leander as he proved his trustworthiness by keeping said necromancer out of trouble. Both were to suffer the other's company within the tight quarters of the tower that Leander called home until the Council of Magi returned for an evaluation in a year's time.

However, as time went on, Leander found himself warming to the necromancer. It was Vespertine's passion that first drew him in, and how willing the man was to speak of his time in the Council's Academy. When evening came, they would sit for hours with a book in hand by the warmth of the fireplace, but more often than not the books were left forgotten as Vespertine described some strange sorcerer he'd known during his classes and what had become of them. He rarely spoke to Leander unless spoken to, save for those moments when the alchemist managed to get him reminiscing. Still, his presence had become comforting, and whenever Vespertine made tea there would be a second mug for Leander waiting on his desk.