Minerva McGonagall swallowed her concern. She wouldn't sound like a harpy, so instead; she set up their picnic brunch, making sure everything that was supposed to be hot remained so. It didn't mean that she didn't keep one eye tight on the flying Alastor. If he fell, if he did something risky, if he experienced an attack of some sort, Minerva McGonagall was quite prepared to save him from himself. She spread out a large blanket and then put the basket with brunch on it. Deliberately, she propped herself up on a suitable oak tree and then she partially closed her eyes.

Alastor gently flew to where she was reclining and he and his broom hovered for a bit. Minerva kept up her pretense at sleeping. He was watching her, Minerva could feel his gaze, yet he remained silent. After a proper wait, she opened her eyes.

"I didn't wish to disturb you if you were sleeping," he explained. "I know it's quite draining taking care of me."

"Just resting my eyes," was her easy answer. "Is there an issue?"

"How…do I get off?" was his question.

Only through her decades of teaching did Minerva refrain from suggesting to Alastor that one needed to take off one's kit before applying attention to that particular problem. But her burst of naughtiness disappeared when she realized anew the extent of his physical difficulties. How was he supposed to disembark from his broom? Fortunately, a plan came to mind even as she stood up and removed two hairpins.

"Please hover so that your foot is standing flat on the ground," Minerva suggested. With a quick improvisation, she Transfigured the hairpins into a set of rather dapper forearm crutches. They were black and they had a little red bat symbol on the cuff.

"Barny the Fruitbat?" Alastor questioned. An amused Moody twisted his lips into a nightmare inducing smile, suitable for scaring a classroom of seventh years into behaving.

"You said you were a Ballycastle man," Minerva reminded him.

"Did I mention that to you?" was his puzzled response.

"No, you had mentioned you were a flag waving Ballycastle Bat man when Sirius Black was nattering about the Montrose Magpies." Minerva offered that and Alastor seemed surprised that she had remembered something that inane.

It had been a few weeks after Diana had been murdered, and Sirius had taken it upon himself to cheer a rather morose Alastor with tickets to a Magpies match. Alastor had gone because the Ballycastles were playing, she remembered. Sirius had done well, as Alastor's dark mood had been immensely improved by the game as the Ballycastles had utterly annihilated the Magpies. Sirius had pouted for a week.

"Try these," she suggested.

"Healer Waldron said I'm not ready for crutches," he protested.

"Alastor, walk on the Dark Side for once," she cajoled. "The Healers don't truly believe that you will follow every single one of their commandments. Try the crutches; it's almost like the rails I put in your suite. It'll help rebuild your upper arm strength plus make you more mobile."

"The Dark Side?" Alastor quipped. "And what can the Dark Side offer that might possibly tempt a by the books man like me?"

"We serve bikkies," Minerva primly retorted.

That retort earned a bark of appreciative laughter. The crutches took time, as she lengthened and strengthened the crutches then made the cuffs more comfortable for Alastor's muscular arms. The feet of the crutches required to be widened into a supportive base so Alastor could rest his full weight on them when he lifted his one good leg off the ground.

"Where's the biscuits?" questioned Alastor. "If I'm selling my soul, it's for either Empire biscuits or Chocolate butterscotch biscuits. Throw in a cuppa as I'm not selling my soul too cheap."

"Alastor, the biscuits will have to wait for a bit. Can you position yourself over the blanket? If we get you to knee height, you can probably kneel and debroom. Then you can sit."

"What about the crutches?"

"Well, I thought you could use them when we're fishing," Minerva said. "Needed to figure them out while you were standing. First brunch then we can try fishing."


Debrooming had been awkward and he had instinctively grabbed her forearms for support when he feared that he was going arse over tit. Alastor finally got settled in some freaky legless chair that besides consisting of a seat, thankfully possessed a back support. Then to his shame, he realized that he was displaying a great deal of leg. Not his good leg, nor his middle sized leg, but his short leg. Both the kilt and his boxers hadn't stayed in position, and there it was, in all its naked yet hairy glory. Pink, shiny, mottled and scarred and most noticeably missing a knee and other bits.

"Let's put a little padding under your leg. We don't want it resting directly on the ground," Minerva decided. Without a change in her expression, she slid a thin piece of comfortable matting under his short leg. Then she carefully readjusted his kilt and boxers so his leg was covered. As always, Minerva did it with equanimity as though it was something she did every day. Goddess knew that Alastor loved the witch for her unflinching, utterly undauntable nature. "Do you like the Zaisu?"

"Zaisu?" Alastor repeated.

"These legless chairs. I saw them when I was at the Japanese Mage Academy. I studied Transfiguration there for a few years," she explained.

"You were in Japan? You've always had this burning desire to teach?" Alastor asked. He seemed generally interested.

"No," she admitted. "I was actually an Auror for a brief spell."

Alastor grimaced, which she took to mean he was gobsmacked by that tidbit. It wasn't a secret, yet she was never one to shout her credentials from the highest mountaintop. She'd still be an Auror if it wasn't for her damnable glass back.

"Did you know my father?" questioned Alastor. Not 'Why did you give it up?' or other prying questions. "He was in the Department when you were."

"Not really," Minerva confessed. "I was only a junior Auror and he was on special assignment."

In other less flattering terms, Desk Duty. Even after being reduced to a clerical position, Senior Auror Terence Moody had been a wee bit too intimidating to Junior Auror McGonagall and therefore she had avoided him. Naturally, she would admit that to no one as she had her reputation for fearlessness to maintain.

"Must have been right after my Mum died," Alastor said. "Da went on Desk Duty until I went to Hogwarts and then Da went right back into the field. He wanted to give me a stable home life and being desk bound gave him a set schedule."

"I've got bit of a glass back," Minerva softly explained. "Spell damage to my spinal cord. It happened during a raid on a Dark Magic cache. Can't really risk another direct cast, so I decided to retire. Spoke with Albus and when there was a position that opened up at Hogwarts that had very low risk of me re-injuring my back, he suggested it."

There was an ugly look on Alastor's face. He was well and truly pissed over that revelation and Minerva mentally groaned. Alastor was about to have an eppy and while it was sweet that the grim man was being overprotective; he was worried about HER, not himself. Did Alastor believe that she wasn't a witch capable of making her own decisions?

"You've been lifting me!" protested an angry Alastor. "You've got a gammy back and you've been lifting me! I never would forgive myself if you hurt yourself because of me."

"Alastor, I'm very careful when I am with you," Minerva assured him. "I bend with my knees, I use back support charms, I take my potions and…you're helping me, so it's not like I'm just picking you up and throwing you over my shoulder."

"Not acceptable!" He growled.

"There's not much in the way of acceptable alternatives," she reminded him.

Perhaps she was too blunt as a bleak Alastor stared at her for a bit. Finally, he nodded his head in defeat and muttered, "Doesn't mean I won't worry. And speaking of acceptable, I find your lack of proper headgear for Litha rather inappropriate. The old traditions must be maintained, lass."

Wordlessly, he removed one of her hairpins with magic. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders and Alastor nodded his head.

"Better, but it needs something," he growled. He concentrated on the hairpin and it Transfigured in a garland of assorted bright flowers. "Come here."

Minerva bowed her head and he placed it on her head. Her nose crinkled as she smelled a familiar herb liberally mixed among the roses, morning glories, gladiolas and other flowers.

"Nepeta cataria? You really believe that I wouldn't recognize catnip?" Minerva questioned.

"Nay, I knew that you would as you're a smart tabby," Alastor protested.

"The nepeta genus has no affect on me when I'm me," Minerva informed him. "I won't act the cabbage."

"I'm not planning on taking advantage of you, madam," was his soft defense. "Mint… cat mint… cat nip…"

Mint was one of the herbs associated with midsummer, Minerva remembered a bit too late. She apologized, reminding Alastor that she wasn't familiar with his traditions.

"No worries," he told her. "I'd like an hour or two alone, after dusk, for some rituals that I'll like to perform. My faith has weakened due to recent events, and I think a spiritual rededication is necessary."

"Of course! Albus located your cauldron and some of what you'll need. Your altar cloths, candles, boline, chalice and your athamé. I located some grape vine if you wish to make a solar wheel. I also have this for you," she said. With a nervousness she hoped that Alastor didn't notice, she handed him a small box. "Blessed Litha, Alastor."

"Minerva…" was Moody's soft protest. "I'm already overwhelmed by your selflessness, a gift is not necessary."

"It's something small," was her disclaimer. Actually, it was a pretty intricate piece of Charmwork that had required quite a few hours to perfect, but Minerva would deny it. "Bad luck to refuse."

Alastor's lips quirked into an amused grimace.

"Well, I can't afford any more bad luck," was his rough way of accepting her generosity. He fumbled for a bit but he managed to open the box. He took out the runes engraved jade pendant and examined it closely. "Tabby…I can tell you Charmed this yourself. It's lovely."

He was silent for a bit and Minerva decided that Moody needed a few minutes to compose himself.

"Those are powerful Runes, Minerva," was what he finally managed to say.

"For protection, healing and peace," was Minerva's ready response. "Now, it will do no good in the box. Let's see how it looks on you."

He put it on, and she was delighted when Alastor placed the pendant under his shirt so it rested on his skin. The protection would be stronger with the direct contact with his skin. Then he placed his hand on top of it and closed his eyes.

"Feel stronger already. Thank you. Thank you…" he whispered.

Now, here came the most difficult part of Alastor's Litha Celebration.

Minerva had done quite a bit of research, yet all the tomes had completely overlooked how to properly propose it to Alastor. There were no female Order members that shared Alastor's faith so Minerva couldn't ask them to handle the delicate transaction. Most of the Orders hens were Christians, be it Anglicans or Catholics, with a sprinkling of Agnostics, Atheists and quite a few Devotees of the Order of Perpetual Sexual Indulgence. Therefore, Minerva had looked deep within herself and deeply pondered the ramifications of what she was about to offer.

Did she like Alastor? As a friend?

Yes, she had developed a greater appreciation for the wounded lion in the past few weeks.

Would she do anything to lift him out of his depression?

Yes. It was rubbish to ask that question.

Would her willingness to do anything for Alastor include shucking off her skivvies and sharing his bed?

That question had kept her awake for several nights as she debated the morality of what might occur. Minerva didn't love Alastor, not in a romantic way, but she was a firm believer that sex could be enjoyed for consolation and reassurance. But was it appropriate for her, a non believer, to offer to take part in a ritual involving sex?

Most assuredly not, but when faced with a dearth of suitable partners for the sacrament, Minerva decided that she would put forward the idea and let Alastor make the decision. McGonagall had suggested that his Goddess would forgive him celebrating MidSummer a tad late. Might She not overlook the sacrilege of a non believer participating in the Hieros Gamos and accept it in the spirit in which it was intended? As Minerva's willing attempt to help her dear friend through his current emotional crisis?

"Alastor, forgive me my forwardness, but do you desire to celebrate the Great Rite tonight?" Minerva questioned.

Alastor looked at her, blushed crimson, and then looked away.

Well, it was better than Bugger off, you old cow!

"I have wine and the silk veil," Minerva slowly began, carefully feeling her way in this emotional minefield. "I'm not of your beliefs, Alastor, but I am willing… if you wish…"

"You're not of the old ways, Minerva," was his soft response. "I don't know if it would be proper."

He still wasn't looking at her.

"Forgive me, Alastor. I have deeply embarrassed you and it wasn't my intent," Minerva apologized. Well, she had just propositioned him, rather badly, and in the name of his religion no less. It wasn't how she meant it to come across, and yet it had.

"No, you didn't humiliate me, you just startled me. It's a sweet, generous offer, Tabby. I will always cherish your munificent offer, but…" Moody paused. "You're not of the faith, Min. I'm not a High Priest and…. It wouldn't be a casual fling for me as the Goddess would be made manifest in you. To top it off, I'm not even sure if I can… They… hurt me… there… Since it happened…"

Alastor Moody, the Order's Sir Galahad personified and made flesh, gave her a shockingly obscene gesture about how he hadn't been able to bang out one since his captivity.

"Oh, Alastor," Minerva said. She tried to keep her voice compassionate and free of pity.

"Not so bad, Min as I don't really know what I'm missing." There was a forced jocularity in Moody's voice. "Diana and I had been waiting as she desired our wedding to be a complete commitment to each other. So, I can't possibly miss what I really don't know."

"Have you talked to the Healers? It might be not happening because you're still physically healing," Minerva offered.

"No, haven't really mentioned it to Healer Adham. I'm … not easy… with him. Certainly not enough to confide how my assorted personal bits aren't working at peak efficiency," explained Alastor. "Especially when there is a long list of bits missing or not working at all."

Finally, Alastor was able to look at her once more and he softly asked, "Did I banjax us, lass?"

His dejected tone shattered her heart.

"No!" Minerva loudly protested. "We're still what we were and what we will always be. Friends and comrades in arms. "

Alastor's broad shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank Ériu. Your friendship means a great deal to me, Minerva. You can see the man I was once was…"

"Still are…" Inserted Minerva. "I don't think you've become a hen in the last few weeks. You're wearing a kilt, not a skirt."

"And not the monster I've become. And I will always deeply treasure your generous proposal. I'll keep it close to my heart, like your pendant."

"You're not a monster," Minerva growled. "Have some mead."


They drank a great deal of mead on that delightful afternoon. Perhaps more than a bit too much mead was enjoyed, as Alastor was unsuccessful in catching any fish. He did snare a tabby cat enjoying the chance to sun herself as one attempt at casting caught Minerva's sleeve. He was sitting on a large boulder next to her and had caught her when he had brought the reel back to cast.

"Ruddy arm," he growled as he reeled in his catch. "This line is too light for catching tabbies."

"Are you making a comment about my weight?" Minerva snarked.

"No, no, no. Just remarking that the line is suitable for a couple kilos, not a full grown cat fish," Alastor quickly assured her. While he was slightly, pleasantly jaked, he wasn't drunk or stupid enough to insult Minerva McGonagall. "I was aiming for the lake, not the tabby sunning on the rock."

"It's your right shoulder. It's tight," she explained. "Your motion isn't fluid when you cast, you seem to have a bit of a jerk, as though something is catching."

"Hold still so I don't rip your sleeve," Alastor ordered. He fumbled with the hook for a bit, and ripped her sleeve with his graceless fingers. It was only a slight tear, but Alastor was mortified.

"I know you didn't mean to tear it," Minerva assured him.

He traced the torn fabric with his fingers and it closed. The sleeve was as good as new and no sign of the rip remained.

"Better," he whispered. "But I shouldn't use magic for everything."

"Let me look at your neck first," crisply ordered Minerva. "If I can loosen the muscle somewhat you should have better luck at actually get the hook into the lake. Let's get you to the ground and into one of the Zaisus."

It was graceless, floundering to the ground and into the Zaisu. Minerva didn't so much as quirk a smile at how he was as ungainly as newborn colt. No, instead, she kept her composure. "Close your eyes and relax. Let me know if it feels good or if I'm putting too much pressure on your muscles."

"Ok," Alastor agreed. "You'll pull your claws, won't you? It would be difficult to explain to Healer Waldron about the claw marks."

Minerva laughed and he could smell her amusement, hear the sun, taste the leaves blowing in the breeze. Carefully, she removed his garland of flowers and his eye patch. Then she began to massage his shoulders and he was overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations; the light taste of Minerva's perfume. She sounded like wild flowers, of meadows and the highlands, felt like safety.

Bloody, ruddy hell, he was about to have a full blown hallucination. In front of Minerva McGonagall no less.

"Are you alright, Alastor?" Minerva questioned. "You're trembling."

He opened his eyes, and his Goddess smiled at him. Don't worry, Alastor. My hands will take away your pain. Go to sleep.

Funny, he had never before realized how much Minerva McGonagall looked like his mental vision of Ériu.


The man's muscles were as hard as the stone walls of Hogwarts, Minerva discovered. Struggling to be gentle, she found that she needed to be more than assertive in massaging his muscles as his muscles refused to relax. Alastor said not a word, even when she asked if she was hurting him.

Because he was asleep.

"Well, I guess I get to have my wicked, wicked way with you, Moody," Minerva whispered.

She managed to magic the sleeping Moody out of the chair and placed him in a prone position on a nice, full mattress. With gentle and loving hands, she began to massage Moody's back, concentrating on long strokes. His dodgy back greatly troubled him and perhaps if she could relax the muscles, he would experience some pain relief. Massaging Alastor until her hands ached; she finally had to stop when her hands began to cramp

To her surprise, she felt Alastor's hand on her wrist. Gently, he pulled her down next to him, and he wrapped one arm around her. They lay together like spoons and Alastor nestled still closer to her.

I don't know what exactly what you want, Alastor. If you were any other man, well, except for Albus, I'd know that this is a prelude to just one thing. You're awake; your arm is draped over me, yet not possessively, so you're giving me the option to wiggle out.

His fingers entwined with hers and he rubbed his thumb against hers. Then… nothing.

This is your first time, Alastor, so you're probably quite shy about initiating. I could take you by the hand, but you've got a lion's heart and a lion's pride. I've already mortified you by propositioning you; I don't wish to do it again.

While our coming together today won't be the God and Goddess, it will be man and woman. Perhaps it will give you the comfort you seek.

The witch waited for Alastor to make the first move, and when none was forthcoming, she decided she needed to be daring. There was one sure way to inform Alastor that she was interested. Wiggling closer to him, she then took his hand and slid it underneath her shirt. Alastor quickly inhaled when he realized where his hand was.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered in her ear.

You're a natural, Alastor. Did I need to tell you how to cup my breast with your hand? I'd tell you but you're distracting me by playing with my nipple.

"Kissing is always a wonderful way to start," Minerva gently encouraged. "I'm older, Alastor, so you need to take your time with me, so I'm ready. That means you can experiment and explore. There are different positions that would be pleasurable for both of us regardless of our physical limitations."

That was a gentle reminder to Alastor's pride that he wasn't the only less than perfect physical specimen.

"What if I….?" was his next bashful question.

"There are other ways of ensuring that we're both completely satisfied."

Enough talking, it was time for Tabby to pounce. She kissed him on his mouth, silencing any further questions.


"Albus?" Edgar Bones questioned from the Floo. "I'd like to talk to you? May I come in?"

"By all means," was Albus' easy answer.

"I'll leave," offered the newest Hogwarts Staff Member. His appointment to the staff and his admission the Order of the Phoenix was not common knowledge yet. Also, he was tired of Albus forcing Sherbet Lemons on him.

"No, you can stay," Albus said. It was meant as a suggestion, but Severus Snape heard it as a subtle command. He nodded his head and sat back down. "It's time to introduce you to the Order."

Edgar Bones barreled into the room from the Floo and he glared at Albus. He then noticed Severus Snape in the room and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"What's he doing here?" Edgar growled.

"He's one of us, Edgar. I trust him completely. Whatever you want to say, if it is of Order business, you can say it in front of him. It's a pleasure to see you, Edgar," Dumbledore stated. He noticed that Edgar seemed upset and he was unsure why.

"Albus, this is about Minerva McGonagall. She desperately needs a break from Moody-sitting."

"She says that she has everything under control," offered Albus. "I spoke to her before Alastor's last Healer appointment."

"Albus, she's exhausted. Have you really looked at her since you dropped Moody like a parcel in her lap? You must be blind if you don't see how done in she is. If you don't give Minerva McGonagall some respite and soon, I fear that she'll physically collapse, Albus. Alastor Moody is a strapping young man and you know that Minerva has a gammy back. Why don't you have anyone helping her?" Edgar Bones was quite annoyed at Albus' highhandedness.

"Remus Lupin is assisting," Albus assured Edgar.

Dumbledore noticed Severus' slight lip curl at the mention of the werewolf. He couldn't blame Severus as the werewolf had nearly killed him and his solution to that incident had been woefully inadequate. He had needed the legendary Wisdom of Solomon to properly solve that debacle and it hadn't been available for let that weekend.

"One or twice a week, he pops in for a spell. Albus, she's got Quidditch World Cup tickets and she's not going because she has Alastor. Did you know that? You know how much she loves Quidditch and Cup tickets are quite dear."

"No, she didn't tell me that," confessed Albus.

"Do you really think she'd tell you? You told her Moody would be safe with her! Min probably believes that she's shirking her duty to you, the Order and Alastor if she decides to take her Quidditch holiday."

Edgar's sincerity was apparent even to Severus, though he briefly thought that perhaps Edgar was a bit too solicitous of one Minerva McGonagall. The thought was quickly banished from Severus' mind as he viewed Minerva McGonagall as Professor McGonagall still, and the very idea of her having a personal life? Of, Heavens forbid, having sex? Simply not possible as Professor McGonagall was cold, tartan clad harridan who enjoyed nothing more than taking points.

For a wonder, Albus looked uneasy. "Minerva seemed… drawn… when I last spoke to her. She claimed that it was simply because Alastor had a bad night, but… the sparkle in her eye. It wasn't there."

"Come on, Albus, put the sparkle back in her eyes," Edgar wheedled. "A weekend of Quidditch will do wonders for her. But she'll only go if Alastor is with someone she trusts."

"You're right.I have two days to arrange for someone to watch Alastor so Minerva can satisfy her Quidditch itch. How did Alastor like his new broom?"

"I haven't heard," Edgar answered. He then went into some detail about how he had modified a Nimbus for Alastor's needs. The two wizards chatted for a bit and then Edgar decided it was time to leave.

Albus then gave Severus Snape a rather penetrating look. The younger mage got defensive as Albus anticipated, considering his personal feelings toward the older Mage. He didn't trust Albus, not one single iota, but he had thrown his lot in with Dumbledore.

"What?" snapped Severus.

"You doing anything this weekend?" Dumbledore asked in a far too innocent tone.

"I'm not Moody-sitting," protested Severus. "No, no. no. I got him out of that cell for you. I'm not changing his nappies."

"Well, Severus, we do need to discuss in detail your new assignment as Potions Master here at Hogwarts. I thought you and I could meet on Friday…"

"At Professor McGonagall's house?" Severus growled.

"Severus, you're a Professor at Hogwarts now. You can call Minerva by her first name," Albus cheerily assured him. "But yes, I will be at Minerva's house, Moody-sitting. What a quaint term, Severus, yet so descriptive and apt. We'll be able to discuss the curriculum then."

"Professor Slughorn…" Severus struggled, not realizing that the fight, battle and war had long since been lost.

"Horace," Albus reminded him, with his blue eyes twinkling madly.

"HORACE has given me all his notes," Severus said, deliberately stressing Slughorn's first name. "It should be sufficient for me to interpret the current curriculum."

"Yes, but I was hoping you'd be able to improve it. Horace was a little bit set in his ways toward the end, coasting toward a much desired retirement. You could help bring our potions curriculum into the twentieth century, Severus! We'll discuss it on Friday. Meet me here for breakfast on Friday and then we'll go to Minerva's house."

"What if I'm busy? The Dark Lord might wish me to be murdering, rampaging and destroying instead. I might even be kicking puppy dogs," Severus snarked.

The boy's amount of self-loathing was painful to Albus and yet he knew that there was a great deal of good in Severus Snape. It was a shame that Severus refused to admit to it.

"Really, Severus, I don't believe that Voldemort has sunk to the level of kicking puppies yet. But you will inform Voldemort that you are busy weaseling your way into an old man's good graces by pretending to take the Potions position seriously. That means, you'll be meeting with me on Friday for breakfast."

"Is that all?" Severus said. He was standing, intent on making his leave of Dumbledore.

"Yes, it is. I'll see you in two days, Severus. Unless you need to see me before then," Dumbledore advised him.

Severus stormed out of the room, a swirl of black robes. Fawkes chirped as Severus' dramatic egress had woken him from his nap.

"Yes, he was rather loud. I fear you'll need to get used to it," Dumbledore informed his familiar. "Lots of banging, growling and snapping will be coming from him, but it's just to hide his true nature. Let him have his idiosyncrazies."

Idiosyncrasies, Fakwes prompted as he was a rather literal Phoenix.

"I was being punny," Albus admitted. "I thought it quite good!"

Fawkes made a rather rude noise and then nuzzled his mage's face.

"I'll be Moody sitting this weekend so I'll be at Minerva's house. Do you wish to go with me? Or stay here?"

I'll go with you, Fawkes informed him.

"We need to get the sparkle back in Minerva's eyes," he said to his familiar. "Oh, Minerva… why didn't you tell me?"


"Beautiful," Alastor huskily whispered as he touched, stroked and caressed the woman next to him. "So beautiful."

Alastor knew that he was hallucinating; that in truth, his Goddess was not in his arms. But he didn't wish to wake from this dream, where a woman…a Goddess… could look upon the ruins of Alastor Moody and still find him pleasing in her sight. He had begged, pleaded and wept for Her solace and She had consented.

Yes, it was a dream, as his body reacted like it should… like it hadn't since Bella and Alecto had amused themselves with him.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on such dark thoughts.


"Adham!"

Adham Waldron tried to hide his unhappiness. He didn't wish to be stopped and he certainly didn't wish to be interrogated by his superiors about a certain Alastor Moody.

Damn it, it was Healer Morgana Lllewellyn.

"I was assigned to assist you tomorrow with Auror Moody," she explained.

"You were?" Adham asked. "I must check my inbox more frequently."

Bloody hell, Healer Morgana was competent! No, she was a bloody marvel, a literal encyclopedia of medical knowledge. She'd take one look at Alastor and realize that there was no damn reason why the Aurors wasn't on crutches by now.

"Yes, a direct request from the Auror Department as they're worried about Alastor. My son's decided it was necessary to get himself into a bit of a bind. I'll be out tomorrow, straightening it all out, but I will be there for Tuesday's appointment. Just let me know when it is."

"It will be ten in the morning," he told her.

"See you then! I'll want to look at his chart, so could you Copy it for me?" Morgana requested. "I hope you're not insulted that I'm consulting. The Aurors get so… protective… and he's one of their best."

"No! Not at all," he lied.

The entirely too jolly Healer left him alone with his dark thoughts. He was running out of time, and he now needed Moody cracked like an egg by Monday. And Healer Waldron was now not completely convinced that his wife was still alive. Yet, what choice did he have?

None.


A/N #1 I think it's obvious that I'm a) not British b) not pagan so my apologies for any mistakes.

Please no flames! ;)

A/N # 2 – Yeah, MM, this isn't a 3 chapter story. Surprise!