Minerva McGonagall had been sitting motionless for seven hours now. She had been staring into her glass of water all the time, trying to make herself accept the truth: Alastor had been killed.

It took all the willpower in the world to stand up and leave the room. Automatically she went to the second floor. Every member of the Order of the Phoenix had a few rooms there in case they spent a night at Headquarters. She opened the door to Alastor Moody's quarters and entered. In here it seemed even more unreal that he should be dead. She knew that he had always taken flight into this room before her, and she felt sorry for having raged at him so often. But, she reminded herself, it had been the only way how she could have coped with the fact that he disliked her. Whenever she had entered a room he had left, and the others could say what they wanted, this was not coincidence.

Minerva placed the glass on the bedside table and dropped onto the bed. And suddenly, here beside the Sneakoscope resting next to her glass and that trunk in the corner, realisation washed over her. She felt tears filling her eyes and failed to fight them down. She hated to cry, but now she could not help it. She sank onto the bed, buried her face in Alastor's pillow and wept, silently, until exhaustion carried her away into sleep.

Downstairs the front door opened and Alastor Moody limped in, closely followed and watched by Dumbledore. 'Here of all places you say I am safe,' said Alastor quietly, and Dumbledore nodded.

'Do you need anything?' he asked, but Alastor shook his head.

'Thanks, I'm fine. Have you told anyone yet?'

'No, I tried to contact Remus, but he didn't answer.' Alastor nodded. He had been attacked, and the people who had been with him had thought he was dead. He was sure that the whole Order was informed about his death already. When Dumbledore had come to fetch his body he had found him barely alive. The others were not to be blamed. The best Healer in the world would have thought he was dead. There was only one rather nasty spell that did that trick, and it had not been used for fifty years. Now, however, someone had dug it out, and Dumbledore had been wise enough to realise that.

'That's the second time you've saved my life,' said Alastor.

'Yes. I'm terribly sorry.' Alastor grinned. The first time he had told Dumbledore that he should have left him to die.

'Nah, I've learnt my lesson,' he said. 'It was worth it.'

'I'm delighted to hear that.'

'Who's talking?' A young witch emerged from the kitchen they had been approaching. For a moment she stared at Alastor and Dumbledore, looking as if she was going to scream, but luckily she thought better of it. Silently, with a sideways glance at the portrait of Mrs Black, she dashed forward and flung her arms around Alastor's neck.

'Tonks, get off me, how much do you think an old man can bear?' he said, and she laughed.

'Why on earth …' she began but didn't finish the sentence. 'Why on earth are you not dead' sounded rather rude to her.

'Ever heard of the Everlasting Sleep?' he asked, and Tonks covered her mouth with her hands.

'I think that has not been used since Grindelwald's defeat,' she whispered. 'It was only known to him and the people who were close to him.'

'Correct,' replied Alastor, 'and what does that mean?'

'That at least one of his old followers is still out there and on Voldemort's side.' Alastor nodded.

'Aurors,' said Dumbledore, smiling.

'I'm going upstairs, don't feel like Apparating through all of England right now,' he said and headed to his room. 'Mind, if this house kills me over night, don't forget that I have warned you about it.'

Alastor didn't like to admit it, but he was exhausted. Every single muscle in his body ached, and he decided to sleep until next noon. He changed quickly, and sat down on his bed, silently muttering the incantation that unfastened his wooden leg. He lay down, sighed and looked at the ceiling. 'Who the hell is that?' asked a hushed voice right next to him, and Alastor jumped. He had his wand in his hand instantly, shooting a Stunner into the direction of the speaker. 'Lumos,' he muttered then. His eyes fell on Minerva McGonagall and he frowned. 'Ennervate,' he said. 'What do you think you are doing here?' he asked, but she didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on his face, and he could feel the rage swelling in them almost physically.

'How dare you?' she said, her voice thick with anger. 'How dare you ridicule Alastor's memory? Who are you, you …'

'Hang on, I'm not disguised,' said he quickly. He didn't want to hear whatever she had been going to call him. 'I haven't been killed.' McGonagall looked as though she was going to hit him.

'Do you find this funny?' she asked fiercely, and he shook his head.

'Definitely not,' he said truthfully. 'Everlasting Sleep, you're old enough to know that.' Again, she didn't answer at once, then she nodded.

'Very well,' she said. 'Your demise would have been regrettable for the Order. Good night.' She rose and went for the door.

'Wait, what have you been doing here?' he demanded fiercely. 'You were trespassing.' She stopped but didn't look at him when she spoke.

'I've been crying my eyes out over your pillow,' she replied. 'Satisfied?'

'Crying? You?' Alastor stared at her. This was something he failed to imagine. 'Why? You don't even like me, berating me whenever you get a chance.'

'Well, you never hear much of it, you always leave the room when I enter,' she retorted.

'Because you're always shouting at me,' he said defiantly. 'Why would you of all people be sobbing into my pillow?'

'Because I love you, you idiot of an Auror.' Minerva closed her eyes. She had not intended to make a fool out of herself by telling him that. 'Now have a laugh at me before you go to sleep, that's supposed to be healthy.'

'I'll certainly not have a laugh at you,' Alastor answered. 'Still don't find this here funny, but I fail to understand.'

'Are you deaf or do you have problems with our language?'

'No, but exactly this kind of talk from you makes your last statement slightly incredible,' he said.

'What are you keeping me here for?' she asked fiercely.

'Because I love you too, you idiot of a teacher,' he growled gently. He raised his eyebrows at her. 'I need water,' he decided, and made for getting up.

'There, on the bedside table,' said McGonagall casually. 'I've brought it up.' He nodded and took the glass. She watched him with wide eyes while he took a big sip. 'Are you sure you are Alastor Moody?' she asked, and he nodded.

'Come here,' he said, and she approached again. 'I've tried to get your attention ever since we were at school, but you wouldn't look out of your books, and if you did, you were never looking at me.'

'I've been looking, but you never looked back,' she said.

'Look again,' he replied. 'I'm an old man.'

'What am I then? I'm two days older.' He grinned.

'I assume you meant what you said?' he asked, and she nodded. 'Fine. I just don't understand why.'

'Neither do I,' she said truthfully. 'I mean, when Crouch was impersonating you, I thought I had overcome that school days crush, but the next year it was all back. You have no idea how guilty I felt. For ten months a part of me had known it wasn't you, but the rest of me didn't realise that.'

'He must have done something wrong then, that's good to know,' said Alastor. 'I just wonder what I am doing right.' She shrugged, looking at her feet. 'Minerva, I am a cripple.'

'You are the bravest man I've ever known.'

'That doesn't change the fact.'

'Does it occur to you that I don't care?' she asked wildly, and he smiled sadly.

'Are you telling me you want this?' he asked, pulling back the blanket to reveal the stump that remained of his left leg. Minerva sat down beside him and took his face into her hands.

'I want this,' she said. Alastor looked at her for a moment, then, without thinking, he placed his lips on hers, gently. He felt her parting her lips and deepened the kiss, pulling her close. After what seemed an eternity he withdrew.

'In that case, don't go,' he whispered, and Minerva smiled.

'Never,' she said.