alastorismoody

[alastorismoody]

edgar-j-bones​:

Edgar smirked over at him.  “Precisely.  And that’s why you’re my best mate.”  He looked down at his bag of treats.  Most of it was for a third year that just had his heart broken, but he could share some with Al if it meant that Hufflepuff wouldn’t lose any points.  The house didn’t have many points to begin with, people seemed to overlook them.

“Yes, we could go to the kitchens!  Or the classroom on the third floor that serves no purpose!”

“I think the kitchen sounds nice. We can sit by the fire and have the elves get us some warm cider. Maybe some pumpkin juice while we’re at it.” 

Al nods in the direction of the kitchen and starts off. “You ken that if anyone else had found ye, ye would’ve been in deep shite, right? Ye ha’ tae be smarter than that. D’ye ken a spell for disillusion? I ha’ almost perfected it. It’s beyond N.E.W.T. level but ye cannae be too cautious, like.”  

[alastorismoody]

amelie-lejuste​:

Amelia turns and beams, more at him than the drink in his hand.

“”Hey, you.” 

Alastor just made her feel…. better. There was no good answer to why, though she could speculate it had to do with the way her looked at her, or spoke to her. Maybe the way he kissed– definitely had to be the way he kissed. He made her feel giddy but grounded, near hysterical at some moments with contentment. She was worried that her cheeks might begin to ache with all of the smiling she found herself doing. 

She takes it gratefully, sipping it without knowledge that a mustache of cocoa set itself on her upper lip. “Mmm, Delicious.” It warmed her up and made the cold easier to appreciate aesthetically. Holding out her hand she offers it to him. “Ready to go?”

“Of course,” he smiles and pulls her hand into his pocket. There’s a small jar of warmth in each of his pockets so keep his hands warm. Tricks of the trade that he’s learned from years of living in the far north of Scotland. It’s not as cold here, but it’s still nice to have feeling in one’s fingertips. 

Al feels warm from something else, too. Amelia’s presence soothes his cracked edges, files them down so he feels warm and fuzzy and all of those other clichés. He wonders how long this will last—this that is his first love. Are they destined to be hand in hand forever? If he wills it hard enough, will that be so? 

“Where d’ye want tae go in the village? I was thinking we could get some butterbeer. Might do us good, with this weather.” 

[alastorismoody]

edgar-j-bones‌:

Ed smiled.  He was a bit of a troublemaker, but nothing was every malicious.  He meant it all in good fun.  “I just left the kitchens.  I needed to go visit Azalea.”  Azalea was one of his closest friends, even if she was a house elf.

When Al mentioned ten points from Hufflepuff, he frowned.  Then his mood changed.  “What would you like?  I have all sorts of goodies!”

“This is bribery, most like.” He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “Good thing I’m no’ above bribery. It’s why I wasnae picked as head boy. I’ll ha’ whatever’s freshest, unless there’s pie. I would kill for a pie.” It had been forever since he’d eaten (in reality, it had only been a few hours, but he was a growing boy). 

“We should go somewhere more private if we’re gonnae break the rules.” 

[alastorismoody]

Alastor enjoyed the cold. He was born to it, as a child of the Northernmost part of Scotland. His childhood had been filled with snowball fights and hot cocoa. His family had been split on the issue, his ma loved the cold, like he did, but Aileen and da preferred the warmth. It was always those two who won out. Their family vacations had always been to Spain or Turkey. 

It was a nice day for a date, in his mind. There was something silent and comforting about snow. The way it covers everything and wraps around people like a security blanket—muffling out the unwanted sound from the outside. 

He had snuck down to the kitchen with two enchanted mugs so he had something to present Amelia before they walked to the village. They were currently warming his hands through his mittens as he walked up to her. “Hello, lassie. Will ye have a cocoa?”

Hogsmeade Saturday || 1965

@alastorismoody

It was snowing. 

She wasn’t sure if the thought made her happy or sad– the Romantic in her (who was usually quiet) thought that it made for an idyllic scene, but the Realist (who always had a bit more to say) could only think about how any chance of walking outside together might be dashed. Amelia hoped, quietly, that he wouldn’t object. 

Did they say they would meet at eleven? For all the conversations they had Amelia couldn’t remember and was now standing outside, robes wrapped around her, wondering if she might be standing here for another…. twenty seven minutes if she’d actually gotten the time wrong. She tried to soothe the small bit of anxiety that bloomed in her by turning away from the castle and watching as the first flecks of snow started their descent into the many trees in the hillside. 

Late or Early, it was quite a sight. 

[alastorismoody]

edgar-j-bones‌:

Edgar was not very good at sleeping.  He often found himself sneaking out of the Hufflepuff common room after curfew to get snacks for no other reasons than because he was hungry and wanted to visit his house elf friends.  Of course, this often led to him getting into trouble for being out of his common room.  

Life was good for the Hufflepuff.  His grades were steadily getting better (he was bright, but was not the greatest at applying himself) and he was well on track to entering a Healing program after Hogwarts.  Everything seemed to be falling into place for Edgar Bones.

Then he heard a familiar voice and stopped.  “Al!” he said with a smile, coming out from the shadows, a bag full of sweets from the lovely house elves in his hand.  “Good to see you.  It’s been a while.”  This wasn’t the first time Alastor caught him out of bed and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Och, mate. What’re ye doin’ out o’bed, then? Ye cannae be wandering around, like. It’s no a good idea.” His voice is betrayed by the smile that lifts his lips. Being a Prefect is a thankless gig, but it is nice to be able to bend the rules to see a friend. 

“I’ll ha’ ten points from Hufflepuff because ye’re out of bed. Why don’t ye share some of yer bounty with me and I’ll forget that I saw yeh?” 

[alastorismoody]

time: 9:56 pm date: december 10, 1965 place: hogwarts status: open

There was something haunting him as he wandered the halls doing Prefect duty. Hogwarts was his home for so many years that now, faced with the prospect of leaving in just a few short months, he was absolutely devastated. The year had come suddenly and painfully like a battering ram. His parents had died over the summer, and his wonderful, beautiful, lovely sister was currently in the hospital wing, struggling to keep a hold on life. 

Loss was an old friend. Al had lost so many people in his life. Both sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins... until he and Aileen were the only two Moodys left. Their lineage reduced to a teenage boy with anger problems and a soft teenage girl with years left to live. It was enough to make anyone resentful. 

Yet Prefect duties would have to continue on as usual. He actually didn’t mind them overmuch—it gave him a chance to think and be alone without people constantly questioning him. As it was Christmastime, most of his peers were glad to be in their dorms exchanging holiday cheer. 

Except for the person swathed in shadow in front of him. “Och, what’re ye doin’ out of bed?” 

[alastorismoody]

A L A S T O R  M O O D Y 

             They wonder why he acts so cold. I don’t think they understand,        to act so cold,            you once had to care too much. 

for the illustrious @alastorismoody aka @rosieweasleywrites

[alastorismoody]

alastor moody’s very Secret journal 

(click the image for full resolution)

[alastorismoody]

edgar-j-bones‌:

Ed knew Moody was rarely one to run late.  He glanced down at his watch, knowing he should be arriving at any moment.  He had Ella go in her room and close the door, knowing that Moody would be apparating in.  He did not want to startle his daughter, that would be awful and send them a few steps back in their progress to “magical acceptance.”

Glancing over at the only apparation point in his house, his entire body tensed when he heard the pop.  Ed gripped the wand in his hand, only relaxing when he saw it was Moody.  “What is my least favorite candy?”  It was something that they set up that only Moody would know.  It was how Ed tested to make sure he wasn’t an impostor.  Moody would know to lie and answer ‘sugar quills,’ which were in fact his favorite.

Al ran a hand over his face, rubbing away the bleariness that was fixed there. “Sugar quills. Good man.” He was more than pleased to see Ed adhering to the strict security guidelines. The world was far too dangerous, and Ed had very narrowly missed death (though Al was not sure that part of his best friend wasn’t dead already). “Sorry I’m late—where’s the bairn? I got the wee lassie a gift.” He brandished the plush and waved it around. 

“Truth be told I’m being stretched in every direction. Yer lucky ye got a whole Moody. Ye almost got half o’one.” The Ministry had been his home for the past 72 hours. He hadn’t left his desk save to refill his coffee and piss. “How’re ye doing?” 

[alastorismoody]

amelie-lejuste‌:

She takes a breath, wipes her eyes a final time, and does her best to give him a real smile. It’s reminiscent of when she would throw a fit as a child, her mother taking it in stride, wiping her eyes and tapping her on the chin to ask her to cheer up. Perhaps Momma Bones would’ve had more insight, or an idea as to how Amelia could avoid being so caught up in knots. 

Looking at the table, then back at him. She’d forgotten that dinner was the excuse that they’d fabricated to have this expectedly dramatic moment between them. As if on cue, her stomach grumbled. “I think… that would be the best thing… It took a lot to get that chicken and I’ll be damned it I leave it here for you to eat all by yourself.” A rueful smile later and she’s sitting at the table– staring at the broken fork. 

“Could I steal a fork?”

“Of course.” Al uses the excuse to walk over to the sink and rummage for a fork to fix his face. When he looks in the mirror these days he sees an old man’s face. His father’s face. 

“Here,” he sets the fork down next to her plate and brushes a single finger across her shoulder and down her arm. Part of him knows she’s right. Once they start in on each other they have trouble stopping. They touched once and now—now he can’t keep his hands to himself. He’ll have to learn. 

“It’s good, Amelia. Thank you for picking it up.” In reality, he hadn’t a clue how the food tasted. It didn’t matter. It gave him an excuse to look at her. “Nice change from eating take away slumped over fifty papers on my desk.” 

a moment of truth || al & am

[alastorismoody]

@edgar-j-bones​

Alastor, having been run ragged by work and Order duties, had nearly forgotten he had promised Ed he would fortify the wards around his flat. Nearly. It was ten till, last he checked his watch, and he still needed to pick up something for Ella. Weaving his way through Diagon Alley, he finally finds the toy shop, and procures a very sweet looking teddy bear. It was born, fuzzy, and giggled when you tickled it. A quick run under his wand and he was satisfied that it wasn’t harmful. Once purchased, he Apparated to Ed’s place with a pop! 

“Ed, man! Ye around?”

[alastorismoody]

amelie-lejuste‌:

She sinks into his embrace, burying her face into the curve of his shirt as her breathing labors for a moment, then slows. Her body always the betrayer of her mind, and she brings her hands in, wrapping them around him and allows herself a moment of reprieve in their embrace. Amelia didn’t falter like this with any sense of regularity, and so finding her footing took longer. “I am scared, but not of you, Al.” Of what she was referring to, she didn’t know. Turns out that fear really had her in a choke hold these days. “It’s hard to give myself any credit with all that fear rolling around.” 

Tucking her head in closer, she sighs. “I don’t want to lie to you either. Or hurt you.” Her fingers reach out and idly toy with the fabric of his shirt. “You’re not supposed to hurt the ones that you love, are you?” It’s said more to herself than him. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, Al. You’re honest– a girl can’t really ask for anything more than that, can she? I just…” She dares a look up at him, losing her ability to think clearly. “I’ll think on it, I promise.” A pause. “I know it sounds like utter tosh, but I’m easily overwhelmed these days. I’m sorry for that– you deserve more clarity.” 

“Of course ye hurt the people ye love. Love isnae always sunshine and rainbows. Love is bluidy complicated.” He brushes a stray hair out of her face and sighs. “I ken that I asked a lot. I dinna blame ye for being overwhelmed. There is a war on.” At this point, he sounds like a broken record. Part of him wants to drill the point home. It’s now or never. Part of him wanted to let her go, not confuse or overwhelm her further. 

“I’ll just say one last thing.” All of the Gryffindor courage he had in him fortified him as he stood there, rooted to the spot. “When I hold ye like this it doesnae matter that there’s a war on, or that I’m in bluidy London of all places. It doesnae matter that I havenae slept in days. All that matters is that yer here. And I’m home.” 

Alastor detangles himself from her, giving her the space that they both need. “I believe I ruined what was shaping up to be a nice meal, actually. D’ye want tae—” he waves his hand toward the abandoned table, “finish?” 

a moment of truth || al & am

[alastorismoody]

amelie-lejuste‌:

Her grip tightens, so much so that she’s sure it might be painful and then she lets go– wincing at the loss of contact. Amelia Bones knows now that she is a coward. And try as she might, she will never be worth what he’s offering. She can see it of course, and that makes it all the more painful. She sees the life they could have, passionate and freeing, purposeful and so so bright. But somewhere below that, where her core lies, she knows that it’s a fantasy. That’s not really how it would look. It would be secrecy and hiding, fights and fists and something dark and alluring but it would choke her, spit her out, and nothing would be left this time around. And yet… she cannot imagine a life without Alastor Moody in it. She simply can’t.

“I can’t.” Her shoulders fall. “ I can’t make this choice, not now, Alastor.” The tears start falling, making their way to the corners of her mouth, though as she speaks they increase in intensity until she is crying in earnest. “I don’t want to hurt you, or lose you, or not have you in my life.” The thought is too painful. “But I-” She struggles. “I get so consumed by you, by us.” He voice drops to a whisper that becomes more and more incomprehensible when mixed with the garbling of her tears. “I don’t like how hungry this makes me, how fucking ridiculous I look.” She walks to the table but she cannot, will not, look at him. 

“I don’t know how to let you go but I don’t know how to keep you.” A choked laugh comes out, bitter and acrid. “I am the worst sort of woman for that, and if you asked me to leave right now I would.” Her hand goes to cover her face. “You are in everything I do, in so much of who I am but you terrify me with the width of your wanting, Alastor.” The words are now pouring out everywhere and she can no more stop them than she can her own tears. “I was so consumed by you, by how wonderful you are and how you make me feel. But I can’t– i mean, it’s too much sometimes, to choke on all of that love and adoration. And when I think about you not being there I start to-” She gestures to herself “Get like this. But I also can’t see the way in which this works so easily. In our office? In our life? And maybe that makes me the worst sort of pathetic coward but i just don’t- I don’t- I don’t-” At this point the tears have crested over and she isn’t able to form words that make any sort of sense anymore, tilting her head down and allowing the table to support her. 

This was it, then. He wonders if maybe she should have just punched him. Physical wounds heal in no time at all. This ripping open of his chest—the gaping hole she left with her words—left him feeling hollow. He wasn’t angry, or even hurt. He feels as though maybe this was the destination they were hurtling to all along. Years of dancing around each other has led them to this point where one of them loves too much and the other one not enough. How had they been able to avoid collision before? 

“We’re older now, ye ken.” Older, wiser, more seasoned. They had experience and age on their side. They had plenty of passion, but also caution. Fear. Had they really learned nothing? “We’re older and wiser and ye dinna give yersel’ enough credit for how much we’ve learned.” Against his better judgment, his feet carried him toward her. He pulled her in to him, gripping her like he used to. Arms clutched tightly around her shoulders. 

“I didnae mean to scare you. I had to be honest with ye. I cannae lie to ye. I hae never been able to do that. I’ll not ask ye for anything again. I promise.” He remembers back to the day, long ago, when they first decided to end things. When they shared a bed for the last time, and he cried silently as she curled around him. Was that really the last time for them? If he’d had known that, he would’ve kissed her longer. He would’ve fucked the lights out of her. 

“Please just think on it. Sleep on it. I’ll wait for ye, if I must. I ken I’ve put a lot on ye in a short amount of time. Ye’ll... ye’ll forgive me?”

a moment of truth || al & am

[alastorismoody]

But I must confess I did it all for myself I gathered you here to hide from some vast unnameable fear But the loneliness never left me I always took it with me But I can put it down in the pleasure of your company

[alastorismoody]

amelie-lejuste‌:

“You’re asking me to right now.” The words rip themselves forward, and they fucking burn. She pushes away from the table and stands– there is a need to walk, or more accurately pace, just anything to stop her falling into his arms as if she was sixteen again, bundled in him outside of that oak tree on the lawn. “I can’t- I don’t know how to-” She gesticulates vaguely, trying to fight the anxiety that is now creeping up her chest, and she hears her breathing begin to get slightly erratic. Was she a horrible person? God, she must be. She must be to look down the barrel of a gun and beg for it to be fired. 

She looks at him, and wishes she didn’t have to. “Are you really able to do that, Al? Am I? We chose these paths somewhere along the way and realized that for most of us, happiness specifically isn’t part of the equation. And if it is then what’s the cost? Your job? Mine? Our resources, time spent at the Ministry, all of the work that we do, the good that comes from it? I can’t–” She chokes back a sob, humiliated and furious at herself. “I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to walk away from all that I am….” She pauses, looking at the wall as a long drawn realization hits her, face gone slack. “I don’t know how to be happy.” Gods, it hurts so bad. 

She walks behind him, her hands falling to his shoulders as she bends over, face to his hair. “Remind me, Al. Why we did this to ourselves” Breathing in the scent of him, she soldiers on. “Why we chose this life. I want so badly to be good and do the right thing, but I can hardly understand what that means anymore.” The pain lances through her chest, her fingers gripping into his shoulders as if he’s going to know, going to have anything to say to keep her tethered. She doesn’t believe that he will though. 

“Ministry relationships are not expressly forbidden. Ye ken as well as I do that yer going to be higher up on the food chain than I am. I hae no ambition whatsoever. Ye ken I hate the Ministry.” Though he knew, truly, that he would never give up his position as an auror. He couldn’t. They had both lived through too much for that to happen. An eerie calmness settled in his bones, and he was prepared to face whatever was coming. If it meant her walking away from him forever... so be it. But he was prepared to go down fighting, like he always did. 

“Ye cannae keep trying to come up with reasons for us not tae be together. We both deserve more than that. We hae suffered enough, lassie. All I am asking is that ye give me a chance tae prove that we could do it, if we wanted tae. Ye ken as well as I do that it’s only a matter of want—and need—I need ye, Amelia. I really do. If ye dinna want that from me, I can go back to pretending—it’s not fair to blame it on the Ministry, or our positions—if ye dinnae want this because of yer feelings, ye hae to tell me.” 

Alastor softens under her touch. It’s the only thing that grounds him to that moment. “I made a mistake, all those years ago. I thought that if we parted it would make us better. I didnae think it would make me worse. And it has done. Ye make me feel whole. Ye buffer down my torn edges. I am a person because of you, even when I feel as though I am being swallowed by my own thoughts.” 

“Happiness is so easy for us, lassie. Happiness isnae everything. I want to feel it all. Sadness. Anger. Frustration. Fear. Ye light me up like a Christmas tree when yer around. I feel everything at once.” 

a moment of truth || al & am

[alastorismoody]

amelie-lejuste‌:

She lets him cradle her hand, still reeling from the processing of everything that he’s said. It’s so much, and yet she knows, of course she knows. The longing, the fear, the shared history that they have. Alastor Moody has never seemed to be a man who lives by halves, which was so much of her initial attraction in the first place. He was brash and passionate and so bloody full of life– She’d been caught in the web from the beginning. But now, older, wiser, more worldly, she just can’t reconcile it all the way that she needs to, the way that he needs her to. 

“Mo Chridhe ” She allows herself the small indulgent gesture of cupping his face tenderly, the pad of her thumb sweeping over his rough cheekbone and the use of name learned so long ago that the memory is but a whisper in mind that she has to reach to recall. “You’re not going to die.” She knows this like she thinks she knows anything else– with a large dose of uncertainty. “You’ve got too much bloody willpower.” She tries to smile, though as the corner of her mouth tries to turn up she feels her eyes begin to water again– she was never good at this…this turbulent stream of emotions. Amelia could do anger, she could do joy, but sadness was something that she so rarely wanted to explore.  Removing her hand from his face to wipe the tears, She turns away from him in the process– doesn’t need him to see her being so weak. 

“I don’t want to talk like this yet– it’s too early for us to be plotting our wills and saying goodbyes.” Especially goodbyes that sit like lead in her throat. “There’s so many more things to be done, arguments to be had.” She attempts another rueful smile. “Missions to go on– You can’t just throw it all away and talk as though it’s over when it’s barely even begun.” What she is unable to do, for the pain might consume her, is lean into the love. She loves him, of course she loves him, but leaning in and giving that love a name meant falling, and she wasn’t sure that survival upon impact was guaranteed. 

His eyes slide shut as he nuzzles her hand, placing a kiss on her palm like he had done so many times before. Her casual use of his native tongue reinforces the feeling that he had reacquainted himself with. That part of him that he thought was dead. Nevertheless, he allows her the grace of looking away, of course he does, because he understands. Underneath it all, he will always understand her and their unspoken language they’ve perfected over the years. So many wasted years... so little time left. If they both survived—if they made it—would she want to come back to him? Could she? 

When they had broken things off, he had promised himself he would grow and learn and feel despite the lack of someone to share those experiences with. They had known they would grow up, and maybe one day drift apart. He had counted on it, counted on her life blossoming before his very eyes. Yet here they were, like stubborn vines, always connected, circling the life they had once lived together. “Even if I do live...” He reaches up a hand and nudges her face. “Amelia... I’ll not ask of ye what ye cannae give. I promise ye that.” 

“But is life worth living if we dinna let ourselves feel what we must? There’s bravery in living our lives like we do, I suppose. There’s sacrifice in it. I’ve spent many lonely nights very far from home because I had tae. I spent countless hours trying to set right my priorities. Is it not braver to allow ourselves to be happy? I’ll no say I could make ye happy. I’m no arrogant enough tae say that, exactly. I will say that if we dinnae die—life is long. I dinna want to feel this—this longing forever. We deserve happiness.” 

a moment of truth || al & am

[alastorismoody]

amelie-lejuste‌:

She pauses, fork halfway to her mouth when he starts talking, and talking and oh my god it doesn’t stop and her fingers are clenched are her fork to the point that the small useless plastic utensil shatters and is that blood? But it doesn’t matter because she is pretty sure, no she’s absolutely positive, that Alastor is going to kill her. He has to– his words just keep washing over her and it’s as if he read one of the more elaborate pages of her first diary and decided to try it in real time. 

And it hurt, god how it ached. This strong, fearless man in front of her, declaring all of these things– She closes her eyes to shield herself from the hardest parts of his speech to hear, only to feel tears on her face when her eyes reopen, needing to look at him, needing for him to see that this was killing her. But it nearly killed her the first go around, and she knows, god she knows, that she doesn’t have the strength to live through it again. She doesn’t have the strength to lose him like a lover– tempting the world by trying to recreate what was lost seems like too dangerous of a game for her to play in these uncertain times. 

She sits there, eyes wet, hand bleeding, trying to understand, or better yet how to even respond. “You’re not an idiot.” Is what she finally settles on. Then she takes a breath, this one is so much more labored. “But what do you want from me, Alastor? From this? There is….very little directive in the declaration.” God, she sounded like an ass, she felt like an ass– she just hoped that Alastor,who really did know her better than most anyone, could see that this, this moment was running her ragged with overwhelming emotions, as they were not inherently in her wheelhouse. 

“That’s the thing, see,” his voice sounds miserable to his ears, and coupled with the incessant rubbing of his hands, he looks like a very grave man indeed. “I dinna want ye tae think that I—well—,” Alastor pauses, eyes fluttering shut to gather his thoughts. What have you done, fool? “I want ye to have an out, Amelia, because I cannae spring this on ye without giving ye that at the very least. I want ye to be able to turn now and forget about this forever. I told ye this now because I have a giant target on me back and I am not infallible. The war—it’s like to go in the other direction, ye ken it as well as I do. I couldnae die without telling ye I loved ye one last time. I had t’tell ye.” 

With a shock he notices the blood trickling down her hand. “Oh, m'eudail, yer hurt—” he pulls out his wand and lurches to her, gingerly assessing the wound. The cause of it was clear by the bloody remnants of the utensil near her plate. Ignoring their closeness and his frantically beating heart, he switches to battle mode—to head of the department mode—and, after some thought, settles on a charm which he whispers—a little too lovingly—under his breath. When he’s satisfied with the way the skin sealed itself, he sits back on his heels, staring up at her. 

“I spent sae many years thinking about what was to come. We’ve lived with this fear for so long. Fear of Voldemort, fear of the world he would create, fear of the unknown... I couldnae live with another regret, or fear. I am prepared to die, though I will not seek it. I had tae make peace with the last thing on this Earth that kept me tethered here.” 

a moment of truth || al & am