Part 22 I think, wow that’s a lot. I’m being terrible between chapters, sorry. The whole fic so far is on a03, and the first part of Part 22 is below:
Part 22
“Well, that was certainly different, don’t you think?”
Aziraphale was talking to Crowley, but he also seemed to just be talking for the sake of talking. They had left the poker game some time ago, and had exited the funhouse maze through a side door Lucy had been very kind to show them. The mood at the game had definitely changed after the exchange between Aziraphale and Ben, and Crowley had been grateful when Aziraphale did the motions of slapping his thighs and saying ‘right!’ before making a polite exit. Crowley wasn’t sure what to make of it, his mind still working in endless spirals going over everything the Creature had said.
Aziraphale hadn’t seemed to have noticed the way Crowley was woven around him, his entire head ducked into the collar of the Keeper’s robes, and his tail looped tightly over his head to try and block out some of the intrusive thoughts. He only loosened his hold on himself when he realised that some of the background noise was the rumble of Aziraphale’s voice through his skin.
“What a marvellous game, as well, I’ve read about it but never had a chance to play it. I do think the rules are a little hard to grasp though… I suppose if we were ever to try playing it, we would have to get you some kind of stand maybe? Something to hold the cards on, or do you think you could hold them with your tail?”
The angel was rambling now, but quite happily so. Crowley found himself loosening without realising it, coils slipping with each step of the angel, until he was a puddle of snake barely clinging to him, and his head and neck were being cupped carefully in the angel’s hand.
“I can imagine you would pick up the rules a lot faster than I would, little thing, you’re such a clever little thing, aren’t you?”
Indeed I am, your clever little thing, thought Crowley drowsily, gazing at Aziraphale’s face from his angle cupped into an elbow. With the tension gone from his body, he didn’t realise just how tired he was, or where they were now walking. Instead he just lay there, being held by his angel.
They were walking through the forest again, but there was a muted greyness to it now, rather than the foreboding shadows which loomed over them on their entry. The trees were still twisted and bare, with fierce looking branches that threatened to scrap against one’s skin, but they looked docile and static without the wind whipping them. The greyness was lifting as Aziraphale picked a path through the ugly forest, and when Crowley finally mustered up the effort to twist his head, he saw why. Through the retreating tree line, he could see a glimmer of orange light peeking over the horizon. They were walking towards the dawn.
“Now I think…” huffed Aziraphale, clambering up a small area of broken stone steps, “we’re almost there,”
Crowley didn’t know what he meant, weren’t they heading back to the Library soon? He was so tired in Aziraphale’s arms, he couldn’t conjure up the energy to care. Aziraphale continued to huff up an ancient set of stone steps, side stepping the large cracks and moss threatening to swallow whole steps. There was a large release of air at the top, as Aziraphale leaned one hand against a nearby tree trunk (which did not seem pleased to be of assistance) and looked down a short ways.
“There, little thing,” he pointed, running his free hand across his brow and jostling Crowley a little more upright in his arm. Crowley blinked slowly, pulling his eyes away from the crack of dawn that lined the jagged horizon of the forest, and looking down the short distance to a large structure that sat motionless. It was a giant circle, with a central tower and spokes that each ended in a small basket. It took him a minute to make out its dimensions, the rigid lines of the metal blending surprisingly well against the angular shapes of the trees around it. It was mounted on a small ridge, overlooking the dip of the valley below them and leading to what would be a perfect view from the very top of its orbit.
“It’s called a ferris wheel,” explained Aziraphale, and he was grinning despite the pink in his cheeks from the climb. “I’ve seen many pictures of them in some books, I think it’s meant to be a part of the entertainments with the Funhouse, but it all seems a little quiet at the moment,”
Quiet was an understatement, thought Crowley to himself. In between the unruly trees and the barely accessible path, there seemed to be no real encouragement between the Funhouse they had left behind them, and this silent, towering feature ahead of them.
“Well come on then!” said Aziraphale cheerfully. “No time like the present!”
It took me forever to finish this chapter and the one after it, I meant to have them done for Halloween and it’s January... nevermind. If anyone is interested in starting from the beginning, you can read the entire fic so far here.
Part 20
The whole business with the books and the attic had been forgotten quite quickly, possibly a little too quickly for Crowley’s liking, but he found he didn’t seem to mind. He found he could put up with quite a lot of his angel’s shenanigans as long as there were kisses involved for him.
And kisses there were indeed, as Crowley found himself scooped up and curled around Aziraphale’s shoulders and his head held in two hands, being peppered with affection all over his snout.
“Hello, my lovely little thing,” sighed Aziraphale heavily, simply holding Crowley close to his face and giving another great big contented sigh. “I feel as if I haven’t seen you in an age,”
Crowley knew what he meant. Any time away from each other seemed to go on forever, like he was living a completely separate reality away from his angel’s touch, and then slipping back into his true life, the one he was meant to be living. Aziraphale breathed in again, nuzzling his face into Crowley’s neck coil before pulling back to smile at him dazzlingly.
“Someone’s been sliding around in the dust, haven’t they?” he smirked, eyes twinkling.
Crowley looked down, but couldn’t see any traces of dust on himself, his scales gleaming as usual.
“You smell a little...well, metallic maybe?” continued Aziraphale, going in for another sniff. “Maybe a hint of… oh, what is that? Woodsmoke?”
Crowley gave a half hearted shrug, moving to wind himself once more around Aziraphale’s neck and hide himself under the angel’s chin. It didn’t work, as Aziraphale simply unlooped Crowley’s tail from under his armpit and ran his nose along it.
“Hmm, it’s an interesting aroma, whatever it is,” he concluded. “But perhaps not as nice as your normal smell,”
Can we just change the subject , thought Crowley morosely. He had already spent enough time as it was trying to hide the new additions of starlight that had been leftover on his scales when he had transformed; he was less than pleased that he had overlooked the leftover influence of the furnaces.
“Well, anyway, let’s get a wiggle on, shall we?”
Aziraphale checked his pockets for his supplies, ink, quill, paper, checked once more for Crowley, and then they set off.
--
The morning turned out to be a little dull, with Aziraphale actually attending to his duties as expected for once. Crowley tried to stay present, listening to all the gentle things Aziraphale would say, either to himself, Crowley or to the books. When there was nothing to comment on or share with Crowley, Aziraphale would lapse into thoughtful quietness and then slip a little further into humming to himself. His throat rumbled gently as he hummed, and with the gentle rise and fall of his chest Crowley found himself being lulled to sleep.
He woke to a little squeeze of Aziraphale’s fingers to the coil of him that roughly translated to his armpit - his rather ticklish armpit - and immediately gave an involuntary little squirm. His head popped up so quickly from where it had been tucked into Aziraphale’s collar that he bumped himself on Aziraphale’s chin.
“Oh goodness, sorry my little thing, did I startle you?”
Crowley gave another little squirm, moving as to tuck away his more sensitive spots as he blinked away the sleep. They were in one of the more chaotic corners of the Library, where the unusually black lacquered bookcases were much closer together forming narrow corridors, absorbing the feeble amount of light that the orbs threw out. There were a few candles dotted about in sconces at shoulder height, the flickering light showing the spiderwebs that criss crossed the narrow pathway, the books slowly being cocooned in the darkness.
“It’s a little spooky, isn’t it?” said Aziraphale in an excited voice, lifting a hand to push a web away from his face as he tiptoed a little further into the darkness. His wings were gone again, once again folded away on another plane so he could forget about even pretending to look after them, the poor things. Crowley mused on what it would be like to offer to groom them for him, when he realised Aziraphale was speaking again.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come down here with a duster in hand to tidy up, but I simply can’t bring myself to do it,”
Aziraphale ducked under another larger web which spanned the space between two towering bookcases that seemed to loom down. He straightened, thinking he had successfully avoided the web, but then gave a small splutter as he went face first into another one directly behind it.
“Urgh, really!” he complained, lifting a hand to remove the web from his face and spit it off his tongue. He turned towards the centre of the web, still fussing the web from his curls, and gave a cross look to the occupant.
“I don’t mind you making your home with the books, but you know how I feel about walking through them!”
Well this certainly took a while to circle back to. Between depression, the election and Destiel I think I’ve lost several years worth of braincells in the last month. I haven’t forgotten about the husbands though, and hope that another chapter makes up for the long absence.
Part 19
That angel was going to be the death of him, thought Crowley with a heavy sigh, as he made his way down towards the metal workshops.
It was only a simple sentence, but no matter how hard Crowley eyeballed Aziraphale, the angel refused to say it.
“This might have been a mistake,”
He refused to say it while the shop assistant rung up the wall of books all while sneezing from dust and grumbling under his breath as he and another wizard hauled the full boxes one on top of the other.
He refused to say it as they packed the books away in several large trunks and brought them out onto the street and, finally free of their expected remit of duty, left Aziraphale standing there with five large trunks of books, and one very late snake.
He refused to say it as he used the very last of his miracle allowance to lift the cumbersome trunks and trek them back towards whichever exit the library offered up this time.
He refused to say it when they finally found their way back into the quiet, and once again dark and deserted, library.
He had refused to say it as he had navigated the trunks through the tight twists of the library, or when they had squeezed them into the hidden ladder space which led to their attic. He had refused to say it when he had ruefully taken his pink robes off and placed them carefully to one side, as to avoid getting them any dustier than they already were. He had even refused to say it after many, many trips up and down the ladder, lugging stacks of books up one after another, all the way growing a little pinker in the face, a little messier in the hair, and all the while steadfastly ignoring Crowley’s pointed stare.
Eventually - finally - the books were all stacked carefully along the side of the attic wall, each one welcomed and dusted and in its place. Aziraphale’s new robes had been hung up with care on the other side of the attic, next to the dress from their garden party with the Colonel, and the picnic basket gifted to them by Dorothy. Not once did Aziraphale say anything about the whole affair, but Crowley could tell by the slight purse of his lips and the forced casualness of his expression that the angel was only too aware of his impulsive decision, and of Crowley’s deep amusement of the whole spectacle.
Even now, as late as he was, as rushed as he was, Crowley couldn’t help but smile to himself as he remembered how the angel had managed to kiss him goodbye while still avoiding eye contact.
Read the rest of the chapter on ao3 if you fancy it
I’m so behind, I’m so behind, I’m so behind! This chapter was planned to be done for Halloween 2020. It’s February. I’m a mess. Anyway, here’s some more ineffable idiots getting into a deep conversation with a bunch of movie monsters, because I like to set myself challenges and then resent them for weeks on end while I try to actually do them.
Please, keep me. on a03
Part 21: The Poker Game
Crowley had experienced many incredible things since his first foray into the Library. Between mad tea parties and enchanted gardens, talking rabbits and bewitched books, he still never would have expected to find himself involved in a game of poker surrounded by such an odd and mismatched array of people.
Seated to Aziraphale’s left was a figure wrapped head to toe in dusty bandages, with dried out decayed fingertips holding their cards rather stiffly, leaning forward now and again with a creak to observe the brightly lit pot in the middle of the table over their sunglasses before retreating away from the pool of light. Next to this silent mummified figure there was a man slumped so casually in his chair that it was only the flicks of his eyes towards the other players, and the occasional languid movement of a hand rearranging his cards which proved he wasn’t actually asleep. He wore a loud Hawaiian shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal thick muscular arms which were covered in a dark layer of silky hair, leading to his hands which were tipped with wicked looking black talons. The mane of hair on his head was slicked back from his face and occasionally he grinned to himself, flicking a blood red tongue across his pointed teeth. Crowley saw a flicker of the gold canine tooth flash in the light as the carnivore laid his cards down.
“Three of a kind! How’s that for a mutt?” he growled, a heavy New York accenting twisting his gleeful words. He was addressing the female opposite him, as the only other player still active in the round and had fixed all eight of her large shiny black eyes on him without blinking. She was wearing a baggy midnight blue hoodie, with a matching pair of sweatpants with all eight legs tucked under the table and crossed in a complicated array of limbs. Instead of a chair, she was seated on a low stool to allow her sizable thorax the space behind her. Crowley wondered what she was wearing at the end of her legs, and whether driders preferred to wear slippers during their downtime. She leaned forward, her messy hair twisted up and away from her face in an unruly bun, and smirked a little.
“Not bad, but doesn’t beat a flush, does it?” she hissed lightly, laying her cards down for the wolfman to see, before leaning over to help herself to her winnings: a stack of poker chips, a few crumpled notes, and the wolfman’s gold watch.
“Aw crap,” muttered the wolfman, dragging a hand across his face. “I thought you were bluffin’,”
“And that’s why you lost, Vincent,” she grinned back, showing a rather large set of needle sharp fangs.
“Gosh, that was exciting,” whispered Aziraphale to Crowley. He was holding a handful of cards, but clearly had no idea what to do with them. He was perched on his chair very primly, leaning forward and watching everyone else at the table with wide, excited eyes.
“It could have been a bit more exciting if you had stuck on in there,” came a voice next to them, and Crowley twisted to look at the woman sitting next to them. She was very tall and angular, her bronze coloured skin shining with scales very similar to Crowley, but she maintained a humanoid shape all except for her hair, which Crowley could barely tear his gaze away from now that he had realised exactly what they were.
“What do you mean?” whispered back Aziraphale above him, a little giddy. She flicked her chin towards his cards, which he had done a terrible job hiding to himself, and smiled.
“You have a full house,”
Aziraphale blinked, still with that happy but confused look on his face.
Well I’m back, and it took me nearly six weeks. This damn tendon injury is really starting to wear out its welcome, but I’m healing at least. I hope anyone reading enjoys the latest chapter - it’s all Diagon Alley themed today. As usual the entire fic so far is on ao3!
Please, keep me.
Part 18
They first tried Eyelop’s Owl Emporium, easily finding it by Aziraphale following the sound of hooting and squawking, and Crowley finding it by smell. It was fairly crowded, with the narrow spaces between the cages and stands full of young witches and wizards all jostling each other and exclaiming loudly about the animals on display. There was an entire wall of cats, some long and lean and others covered in fluff, all with flashing eyes and loud meows for attention. Between the cats and the opposite wall of rats, ferrets and mice, there were several large tall tanks of various frogs and toads, with only the few brightly coloured ones separate with a large sign explaining how deeply poisonous they were. Above the cages and tanks were docs of perches and tall arched stands for the most popular wizarding animals - the owls.
“Oh, little thing, look how beautiful!” gasped Aziraphale, looking up at the group of snowy owls all shuffling on their perch. To one side of the snowies, an enormous black and grey Blakiston's fish owl sat with its head rotated almost around to stare unblinking at a large tank with a single horned adder sunning itself on a rock under a heat lamp. Further up and back, Crowley could see pygmy owls squished together along a perch, their feet obscured by their tiny fluffy feathered puffball bodies. Watching the pygmies, almost completely camouflaged into the shadows cast by the restless owls above it, sat a black-banded owl with bright yellow eyes.
“Aren’t they marvellous?” whispered Aziraphale, reaching up to offer a finger to one of the nearby long-eared owls. The owl observed the finger dispassionately, before giving it a polite nibble and offering its head for a scritch.
Aziraphale dragged his gaze away from the many animal occupants and started picking his way through the crowd, looking over the heads of many smaller children to try and spot the nervous boy they had seen in the robe boutique.
Crowley noted that while Aziraphale had seemed very keen on meeting Dorothy in the forest, the reality of being confronted with a whole host of noisy, excitable children didn’t seem to enthral the angel one bit.
“Mummy! Mum look! Mummy!” one small girl cried, tugging repeatedly at her mother’s sleeve whilst trying to pull her over to the pen of kittens, while her mother went the other direction with another small child in hand. Aziraphale moved away as the little girl suddenly changed tactics, running back and nearly on the hem of his new outfit, to circle in front of her mother and loudly beg for her to go look.
“Goodness,” muttered Aziraphale, moving away from the ear splitting tirade of begging. He side stepped two giggling teenagers talking to the cats with their fingers stuck through to pet them, and peered towards another young child, who might have been the right one, except when she turned around she was a young girl with hair she had obviously attempted to cut at home, given the wonky fringe and mournful awareness of being in public. Aziraphale made a sympathetic noise, and scanned the back of the shop for any more potentials. Finding only a handful of browsing adults and one exhausted looking shop assistant with dung on the sleeve of their robe, he turned towards the exit, only to be confronted with a boy with red hair and an incredulous expression staring up at him.
“Oh!” he said, stopping short as he noticed the boy. “Can I help you?”
I’m back, and armed with pain killers for my tendons. This chapter comes with a warning attached, but for a real life issue rather than a fictional issue. This chapter takes place in the Harry Potter universe, which is something I thought a lot about on. Unfortunately J K Rowling has decided she will not educate herself and apologise for her transphobic and hurtful remarks, so please be aware that the setting of this chapter, and the next, are not in support of her, but merely a tribute to growing up loving the wizarding world. I re-read the first few books over and over, and was always entranced by Diagon Alley and many of the places they visit, and I couldn't do a story visiting my favourite children's books without visiting HP. I hope anyone reading who may be affected by Rowling's continued discrimination will understand my intention is not to dismiss or disregard their validity. Trans right are human rights, and as a member of the LGBT community, I hope these two chapters only bring some happiness. Thank you x
Link to the whole fic on ao3 so far!
Part 17
Two days later and Crowley was still sulking. After their speedy departure from Barton Park, Aziraphale had not shut up about how wonderful their visit had been, how lovely and polite the humans had been, and how agreeable in particular Colonel Brandon had been.
It had started simply enough, with Aziraphale going over and over the various sisters, and then talking about how beautiful the Park was, how much fun croquet had been. The dress he had brought back with him was carefully put away somewhere safe out of the way of where others might find it, and Aziraphale had spent far too long talking about the buttons, and the soft muslin, oh and of course, the lace -
Then he had bundled them off to the part of the library where all of the books written by the same author responsible for the Colonel was, and spent the next day and a half reading them outloud to Crowley. First, of course, was Sense and Sensibility , followed by Pride and Prejudice , and then on throughout Emma, Persuasion and - spare him, Mansfield Park . It wasn’t that Crowley didn’t enjoy being read to (he did), or that Aziraphale wasn’t a delightful angel to listen to (he was), or even that the books were boring or insipid (they weren’t). It was more that every so often, Aziraphale would break the flow of the story to compare each of the dashing male leads to the Colonel, which not only interrupted Crowley’s rapt attention, but also left him getting himself into quite a twist as he sulked in Aziraphale’s lap.
Eventually, he resorted to coiling himself back up around Aziraphale’s neck, tucking his head under his tail and huffing his grumpiness directly into the crook of the angel’s neck. It didn’t take Aziraphale too long to notice.
“Are you alright, little thing?” came a soft voice somewhere from above Crowley. A hand rested against his side and squeezed gently. “Are you done with Jane Austen for today?”
Crowley huffed again, and wriggled his head a little further in between the crease of his tail and Aziraphale’s skin.
“Do you not want to talk to me today, little thing? Is that it?”
No, never that , thought Crowley, hissing softly.
“You’ve been a grumpy little gremlin today. I think I know why,”
Crowley could hear the smirk in Aziraphale’s voice, the teasing note in his voice and hissed again, giving one last loud huff. Hands wound into his coils and he was gently, but firmly, untangled from his hiding spot. He hissed again, trying to stay in his little hiding spot, but Aziraphale wouldn’t let him.
“Oh, who’s a jealous little snake?” came the angel’s smug voice, as Crowley found his face cradled between two broad hands. He refused to make eye contact, trying to twist his nose away.
Not jealous!
“Oh, aren’t you just so appealing when you’re in a little stormcloud, my little grump?” Aziraphale continued with the soft baby voice, and his hands didn’t let Crowley wriggle away. Instead the snake was subjected to a lot of kisses being given all over his snout, head and neck as Aziraphale continued to tease him.
“Oh, my moody little one, oh what a sweet little fiend you are!”
Crowley fought to keep his sullen expression, but found himself enjoying the attention far too much. The kisses continued, until Crowley simply gave up trying to squirm away, and let Aziraphale gather him all up in his arms and kiss his nose over and over again.
“Oh, what a jealous little delight you are,” Aziraphale told him when Crowley finally conceded the playfight. “Fancy you, being so clever and wonderful, being jealous of a fictional human like the Colonel,”
Crowley narrowed his eyes at the mention of the Colonel, but Aziraphale’s smirk and twinkling eyes confirmed that Aziraphale had been right about Crowley’s sullen mood.
“Come on now, little thing, let’s see if we can find something to brighten your mood,” Aziraphale smirked, tactfully changing the subject. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in the mood for something sweet!”
--
Read the rest of the chapter, and the whole fic so far, on ao3!
I hope the long wait wasn’t too long. I’ve now uploaded the whole fic onto a03 and put the new chapter there. I’ll post the intros here with links instead, and try to remember to update the masterlist properly. I have also been working on some illustrations but these have taken a backseat.
Part 14
They had reached the end of the procession of decorated trees, and Aziraphale made the kind of sigh that could only be interpreted one way, the kind one makes before thanking a host and departing. Crowley, in his state of lovesick idiocy, had retreated back into Aziraphale’s robes and wriggled his way across his angel’s skin, only leaving the very tip of his snout visible outside of the heavy coat. Aziraphale, who must have noticed him winding his way across his upper back, had not commented, and was now looping around and past the church pillars. It was with a heavy heart that Crowley realised that their little adventure in the snow must be over, Aziraphale fully sated from the trees and the snowflakes.
He was falling into a rhythm of listening to Aziraphale’s breaths when he realised that the crunch of his boots in the fresh snow had slowed, and then ceased.
“Interesting…” came Aziraphale's voice quietly. Crowley pushed out a little further, peeking out of the collar to see. Aziraphale was standing on the path leading back towards the lamppost, and looking upwards towards a snow bank with a small rocky path scattered amongst it. The path was lit up by small floating lights which seemed to beckon at them.
“Oh, why does everything have to be so interesting?” whined the angel, looking back along the path they had come, and then upwards towards the lights again. Crowley’s entire head had emerged from his hiding spot now, and he twisted to look towards the path eagerly. Aziraphale sighed, a little critically. “It’s like it knows ,”
Crowley pulled back and looked up at his companion, angling his head a little in query. Aziraphale looked at him.
“Don’t you start now, too. I can’t have you both ganging up on me,”
Aziraphale looked away, then back at the path, and then back at Crowley, who continued to tilt his head in a manner he noticed seemed to get him what he wanted with the poor Keeper. Aziraphale’s eyebrows tilted in defeat and he sighed again, shaking his head a little.
“Oh, enough! There’s only so much sweetness an angel can take,” he said dramatically, turning towards the path and beginning to crunch his way with each step towards it. The snow bank raised up towards the path, and the snow proved a little deeper than it looked initially. Aziraphale had to lift his coat up to make his way through, and made a high-pitched noise of displeasure as snow tumbled over the top of his boots and down his legs.
“You’re a terrible influence on me, little thing,” he muttered once they had reached the bottom of what appeared to be rough stone steps under the swells of settled snow. The next few minutes were preoccupied with Aziraphale finding each buried step and checking his footing before committing. It was much steeper than it had looked from down near the church, and Aziraphale was puffing soon enough. The puffing was followed by some muttered cursing, and some creative names for Crowley who filed them away in delight.
“Oh, you foul Duke of limbs,” grumbled Aziraphale, stooping to check a ledge with his hands before stepping up, Crowley clinging to him and flicking his tongue in delight. “Or I suppose, Duke of coils, you wretched little fopling,”
Crowley, for all of his flaws, was enjoying himself thoroughly, as Aziraphale’s skin had grown much warmer with the effort it took to climb, and the angel looked dashing with a tinge of pink across his cheeks and neck as it contrasted very well with the scowl painted across his features. Aziraphale charmed and giddy with happiness was a treat, but Aziraphale cross was a pure indulgence.
I am in love with this sweet lil fic, it’s made me so happy writing it. I hope others enjoy it too.
Read the whole thing on a03 (so far!)
Or read it in parts on Tumblr (up to Part 17!):
Part1 - Crowley watches a little Keeper who caught his eye.
Part 2 - Crowley gets the barest minimum work done and sneaks into the greenhouses to annoy some flowers.
Part 3 - Crowley is late for his usual spying, so finally enters the library looking for the Keeper.
Part 4 - Crowley needs to up his spying game, so he gets some inspiration.
Part 5 - Crowley debuts his new form in the library, and gets more than he expected.
Part 6 - Crowley dozes off, which is both a curse and, it turns out, a blessing.
Part 7 - Crowley and Aziraphale explore the library together, and find somewhere very surprising together.
Part 8 - Crowley finds Aziraphale some blackberries.
Part 9 - Crowley and Aziraphale meet some lovely new friends, and a few peculiar ones.
Part 10 - Crowley treats Aziraphale to a lovely afternoon with a friend.
Part 11- Crowley and Aziraphale have a picnic, and Crowley gets in trouble.
Part 12 - Aziraphale looks after Crowley after a bad night apart.
Part 13 - Crowley goads Aziraphale to join him for a wonderful wintertime walk.
Part 14 - Crowley and Aziraphale take a detour and meet a friendly figure in from the snow.
Part 15 - Crowley accompanies Aziraphale to his appraisal by a superior.
Part 16 - Crowley and Aziraphale attend afternoon tea and Aziraphale has an admirer.
Part 17 - Crowley and Aziraphale find their way into a fully formed world of magic and delights, and Aziraphale finds himself under the influence of temptation.
Part 18 - Crowley and Aziraphale explore Diagon Alley.
Part 19 - Crowley runs an errand and makes a fateful acquaintance.
