Bloodloss: An Alec and Magnus (Malec) Fanfiction

Chapter 23

“That’s the last of them.” I say, heaving the last box to the floor.

Magnus puts down the one he’s holding, raises his hand, and uses magic I haven’t yet mastered to push some of them into neat piles. The sight of the boxes, floating as Magnus stacks them, is slightly disconcerting.

There’s a yelping meow and the Chairman springs out from behind the boxes, bumping into a table leg in his haste to welcome us. I drop to my knees, discarding the duffel bag on my shoulder, and smile as the cat rolls onto his back, purring like a motor boat.

“Hello,” I say to the cat, tugging him into my arms in a way which Church would never tolerate. Chairman Meow, however, seems perfectly happy. “When did Magnus last feed you, huh?” I ask the bundle of fur in my arms.

I cast a glance at Magnus, whose eyes widen in alarm in the way they always do when he realises he’s forgotten to feed the Chairman. I roll my eyes and put down the cat, which immediately bounds after Magnus into the kitchen. Magnus himself re-emerges moments later, looking vaguely sheepish.

“I didn’t forget to feed him.” He protests.

“Yeah, sure…” I laugh and pick up my bag.

I navigate through the labyrinth of boxes to the sofa and sit down. The apartment is in an awful state of tidy disarray. There are papers and spell books open everywhere, but somehow Magnus has managed to make it seem like part of the décor.

“What happened in here?” I ask.

“I spent a lot of time looking for a cure to your curse, though there wasn’t one.” He admits.

“Well, if there wasn’t one, then your time could’ve been better spent.” I say, bending my head over the coffee table and pretending to read the papers, trying to hide the touched blush creeping along my cheekbones. “For example, you could’ve spent that time feeding your poor cat.”

He sighs. “I did. He’s just being dramatic and playing for your sympathy.”

I laugh. “Your cat – the cat that rolls over for hugs whenever anyone comes in and just ran into a table to try and greet you – that cat, you think is smart enough to be dramatic or manipulate me?”

“Yes.” Magnus says, clearly trying not to laugh.

I roll my eyes and, on cue, Chairman Meow ambles into the room and throws himself down on Magnus’s lap.

“Oh, I can’t be mad at him.” Magnus smiles, tickling the cat’s ears.

In response, the Chairman nudges his head into Magnus’s hand, seeming to melt under the touch of his beloved owner. I watch, amused, then the phone rings.

I reach over a box to pick up the phone. When I first moved in, I quickly learnt that the majority of calls were enquiring into help from Magnus. I’m surprised how smoothly the familiar greeting rolls off my tongue, without me giving it a second thought: