For the Minerva Fest -
Prompt Author: Requested by Kelly Chambliss ~ written by Sel
Prompt: How do Moody and Minerva deal with the fact that during the GoF year, she did not realize that he'd been replaced by an impostor? Their past relationship can be whatever you like: at school together, friends from the early Order days, lovers, enemies, etc.
Summary: Minerva hopes that Alastor will never know exactly what Minerva McGonagall did with Barty while the real Alastor was in the trunk.
Warnings: possibly DubCon depending on your definition of informed sexual consent. No rape.
Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling and her legal licensees.
Author's Notes: T
Thank you to the Letters Kelly, Terri and Lyndsey and T for their editing, auditing and suggestions.
-o-0-o-
Alastor had completely shut down. His back was to her and Minerva wasn't sure what to do. Well, besides catch her breath, as Alastor had gotten her into quite the state. He couldn't seem to get enough of touching and caressing her, which was exactly what Minerva needed. Plus there had been lots of kissing and nuzzling, of which Minerva had heartedly approved. Things had slowly progressed to Alastor gently tugging up her skirt and a primed and willing Minerva had been quite eager for Alastor to 'light the old blue touch paper'.
Then, with shaking hands, he had pulled her skirt back down, struggled to straighten it. He had then rolled onto his side, onto his bad leg and he wasn't saying anything.
"Alastor? Talk to me." She kept her voice soft.
"I may look like an animal, but I'm not one," Alastor whispered.
"Alastor?" Minerva repeated.
Not a word.
Minerva realized that Alastor was in a very bad way and she decided this needed to be a face to face conversation. She got off the bed and walked over to Alastor's side of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly as she sat next to him.
Debating on what to say, she just stroked his back.
He was held hostage in a trunk for nine months and was subjected to sexual torture from Barty. He won't really talk about what happened; I know about his faux Minerva mainly because I overheard him. Instead he simply expressed a desire in my old carcass. Things were going well when we were taking it extremely slowly. Instead of being happy with that, because after all, I had told him that's how I wish it to be, I decided to push the issue, causing him to panick.
Alastor was quite careful when he caressed me. His touch was slow and gentle. He went to pieces only after he pulled up my skirt.
Because he was about to touch me there.
He's forgotten what a proper, healthy desire feels like.
Bugger me for a fool that I didn't think of this when I decided to seduce him.
Alastor has been such a bloody survivor for so long that I had almost forgotten that there is a very sensitive man beneath the scars.
"You didn't hurt me, Alastor," Minerva softly stated. "You weren't an animal, Alastor. You were very tender and gentle. I quite enjoyed your touch."
"I had to stop," he explained. "Had to stop the beast."
"You're not a beast. You are a man, an exceptionally brave man, who has survived a very traumatic ordeal. Talk to me," Minerva softly requested. "Tell me what you're feeling."
"I can't explain it to myself, let alone you," protested Alastor. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
"Alastor, please, try," she asked.
Alastor Moody continued to stare at the ceiling, refusing to meet Minerva's eyes. When he finally spoke, his tone was dry and dispassionate.
"I don't feel anything except when I'm with you. You're just so alive, Minerva. So vibrant, so bloody Minerva. I hoped that we made love, that when I was inside you… that I'd feel alive…"
"Alastor? Why did you stop then?" Minerva asked.
"Because I was feeling too much when I was touching you." There was a slight tremor in his voice which grew more noticeable as he continued to talk. "The beast inside me, he touching you. I can't control him and I was terrified that he might hurt you."
Deliberately, she put her hand on his chest. Bloody hell, she had no idea what to do next. If Alastor had merely fallen off his broom, he needed to get back on it before the fear of falling became ingrained. However, that was flying, not making love. Was this a mistake? Handling this in an honest, forthright manner was probably the wrong way to do this, but Alastor had never been one for mollycoddling.
"Alastor, I know you wouldn't hurt me." She stated it firmly. "Look at me, Alastor. Do you truly believe that I'm incapable of handling this alleged Beast of yours? If you were hurting me, I'd be able to defend myself."
"Barty hurt you," was his protestation.
"No, he was just a lousy lay," she sniped. "A really lousy, cack-handed lay. He wouldn't have known what to do with my clit even with a Specialis Revelio."
He looked at her, shook his head in mock stunned disbelief and she took his hand. Purposely, she placed it against her face.
"I enjoyed it when you touched me. I am real, Alastor. The monster you fear isn't. "
"The demons in one's head are more frightening than any chimera," was his retort.
"Alastor, I am easily the match for any of your monster," Minerva tartly reminded him.
They had a stare off, each daring the other one to look away first. At last, Moody nodded his head.
"Bully me? Well, I'm just letting you win," Moody barked a rough laugh.
"Bloody Aurors, so fearful to get in touch with their emotional side," was her fast response. Then in a softer voice, she asked, "Shall I stay? Or should I go?"
"Go," Alastor suggested. "I don't sleep soundly. Plus, I'm not feeling very lascivious right now."
"'tis alright," she insisted. "We can cuddle."
Then, not waiting for a response, she walked over to the other side of the bed. Alastor's buttoned down shirt was lying across the chair, so she picked it up.
"Mind if I change into this? It's far more comfortable to wear to bed," Minerva stated. "Feel free to look."
-o-0-o-
It was rather nerve wracking, Minerva had to admit. A woman of her age, putting on a peep show!
First of all, she undid her hair, so it hung down straight. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and slowly and deliberately removed her sundress, leaving her only wearing her knickers and her soutien-gorge. Really, she was wearing a rather lackluster bra, so she Transfigured the style to one a little more appealing. Alastor seemed to be a breast man, so he'd probably enjoy her wearing more of a balconette style.
Then she put on his shirt, strategically unbuttoned, and then turned to face him.
And he was… asleep. Both eyes were obviously closed and his fake eye was nowhere to be seen. His ravaged face was relaxed and he was smiling.
"Don't quit your day job," Minerva chastised herself. "You'll never get a job at the Moulin Rouge."
With expert fingers, she pinned back her long hair into a neat braid. Then being careful not to disturb Alastor, she climbed into bed with him, and carefully positioned herself. To her surprise, she felt Alastor move her closer to him, so she was resting her head on his chest. Her arm was positioned just so by Alastor and then he contentedly sighed.
"One of these days, I want to know the true story behind your Rampaging Lion tat," he rumbled. He then buzzed the top of her head with a quick kiss. "And you'll never getting a job at the Moulin Rouge because you'll kill all the young laddies .They'll die from heart attacks, cocks stiff as tree trunks."
"Alastor…" Minerva was half amused, half scandalized.
"Go to sleep, lass," Alastor ordered.
-o-0-o-
Alastor woke her with his screaming. He was sitting up, bolt upright and he was ear-piercing. His eyes were open and he seemed awake.
"Alastor, whatever is the matter?" Minerva asked.
Instead of answering her, he kept screaming and Minerva gave him a sharp poke.
He's having an attack of the screaming abdabs. Yes, Alastor's screaming yet he's asleep. I need to wake him.
Whatever she did failed to wake him, so she was reaching for her wand in order to perform some delicate mind magic when Alastor stopped screaming. He stopped, turned towards her and mumbled, "Not real… still not letting Barty hurt you."
Then he fell back into bed and went back to sleep much to Minerva's amused consternation. Minerva wished that she could fall back asleep as easily.
-o-0-o-
She was still awake hours later, pondering Alastor's night… well afternoon terrors, when Alastor stretched.
"Good afternoon," he whispered. He gently buzzed her cheek. "Thank you, you kept the nightmares away. I haven't slept that good in far too long."
"Alastor?" Minerva was leery to ruin his good mood, but really, she needed to mention his little eppie. "You woke up screaming. You don't remember?"
"No," he admitted.
"You did," she said. "I couldn't wake you."
The burly Alastor looked sheepish, like a little boy caught in a fib.
""tis alright," Minerva reassured him. "You've been through an ordeal and you're healing."
Her compassion earned her an eye roll.
"That's my tetchty Alastor," Minerva cooed. For good measure, she glared at him.
And that moment crystallized everything for Minerva. Yes, this relationship might have started off as a balm to both their bruised souls, but there was a definite spark between them. Plus, her libido helpfully reminded her, Alastor had done such wonderful things to her, until he had gotten nervy.
Oh yes, how to handle that little bit of performance anxiety that Alastor had.
And make it quite enjoyable for her.
"Regarding what happened earlier today," Minerva fumbled.
Alastor was nearly as ginger as his hair. She knew Alastor well enough to know that he'd start attempting to change her mind, to persuade her that his earlier episodes was a mild inconvenience rather than a cause for true concern.
"I appreciate that you slowed down the pace for me."
There, a bit of a white lie. Barty Crouch had taken just about everything from Alastor; she should let him keep his pride.
"As much as I enjoyed it," she continued. "I'm glad you stopped. After all, I am older."
"You're being polite," grumbled Moody. "Because I was a screaming Nancy."
"Let's do this slow, Alastor. I like this part of a relationship," she explained. "Where we both obviously want the same thing, and we're postponing it."
"I don't wish to delay," Alastor complained. "I know I had a bit of eppie, nattering about monsters, but it won't happen again. Come back to bed, Minerva."
"Alastor," Minerva chastised him. "We're doing this slowly."
His obvious disappointment was a real ego boost.
-o-0-o-
For the next few weeks, Minerva proceeded to give him a list of demands. On how their relationship was to proceed.
Well, perhaps demands was too harsh a term. Sexual stipulations?
Yes, that was it.
Sexual stipulations, carnal commands and erotic entreaties.
He and Minerva shared his bed at night. To his intense disgust, it was chaste. An invisible, magical bundling board between them. They could hold hands, they could snog and they could play footsies, well in his case, footie, but he couldn't cross that line.
The slow pace wasn't for her, Alastor had quickly realized. It was for him.
So he'd get comfortable with what he was feeling for her. That meant hand-holding and kissing, and only Minerva-authorized caresses of non-erogenous zones. Though Minerva only let him massage her feet the once. Seems that Minerva had never before experienced her freshly washed toes being properly sucked by a willing supplicant.
The leisurely exploration of various parts of Minerva took time, but sometimes he still got rattled by the strength of his desire. Those times he'd claim he needed a bit of a kip. Solo.
And once he was hale enough, he walked with her. And they talked. About what happened to him. Awkwardly at first, then with greater ease, and when he just couldn't voice what he was feeling, Minerva would simply hold his hand.
Minerva was comfortable and she was real.
He still had his nightmares, but they gradually decreased in frequency, instead he was dreaming very nice dreams of a long-haired witch. Who was not separated from him by a bloody bundling board.
It was late July, when Alastor finally asked her, how long? Well, perhaps he said it a bit cruder than that. Couldn't really blame him as he was a virile man in his earlier nineties and she was a feisty little minx.
"I don't know what you mean." Was all she said, which meant it was up to him to take the next step. To take that blasted bundling board and kick it to Kilkenny.
What was holding him back?
Barty Crouch, Junior.
He had to confront, head on, what the bastard had done to him, and what had happened between them.
And that meant Alastor Moody was going to Azkaban.
The decision made, it was best not to delay. Therefore he changed out of his courtin' clothes and into his work gear. The worn dragon hide coat and overcoat, worn quite thin in spots but soft and comfortable. You never trusted an Auror who wore new gear. Meant that they were either brand new, right out of the Academy or too enamored about keeping their new clothes pristine and intact.
"Be back in a bit," he rumbled to Minerva.
"Where ever are you going?" Minerva questioned.
"Having a bit of a walkabout," he not so helpfully explained.
To give Minerva credit, she didn't yell that he was a daft prat. Instead she nodded her head and announced that she had a book she wished to read, so it was good that he was heading out for the afternoon.
Their goodbyes said, Alastor left the small cottage and walked down the road for a bit. When he was far enough away, he quickly ate three bars of Honeyduke's finest chocolate. Kingsley had dropped them off for him, knowing that Alastor had a bit of sweet tooth.
Thus fortified, he Disapparated to Azkaban.
-o-0-o-
He hated Azkaban. Hated the Dementors as truly they were no better than the Dark Lord. But he stared hard at the dark shape in front of him, refusing to fear it.
"I'm here to see to see Barty Crouch, Junior," he informed the Dementor.
Damn thing was a bit of a daft prat, as it appeared greatly mystified by Alastor's blatant refusal to fall over and snivel.
"I know where he is," he informed the sheet wearing ghoul. "Don't be needing you to show me where he is. Be off with you."
Then Alastor hobbled off to Barty's cell, one hand wrapped around his blasting staff, the second in his pocket, right next to his wand. Couldn't be too cautious especially here.
He unlocked Barty's cell and stormed in.
Barty Crouch Junior was lying supine in a bed. There was an astringent odor of perpetual-cleaning spells in the air. The Death Eater was drooling, his jaws agape and his eyes were blank.
And Alastor Moody was overwhelmed by an urge to kill Barty. There was an animalistic rage building in Moody, the urge to strike out at the defenseless Crouch nearly unmanned him. Nearly took over Alastor's good sense.
The bastard had put him in a trunk for nine months, had nearly driven him 'round the bend and back again and mind-buggered Alastor until Alastor didn't know up from down, right from wrong and the real Minerva from Barty's faux Minerva.
Minerva.
Minerva McGonagall.
If it wasn't for Barty Crouch, Junior and nine months in a trunk, Alastor Moody, the real Alastor Moody would have been perfectly content with his pathetic little life.
It had taken the trunk to show Alastor how much he was missing.
That there could be joy and delight in a cuddly vixen by the name of Minerva McGonagall.
And if it wasn't for Barty, Alastor would never have known that.
That's what saved Barty's life. Though some might have considered it a mercy if Alastor had killed him, especially if you were Barty's dearly departed mum. His soulless body was in fact, his physical prison.
"You know Bartemius, my cell was a lot bigger than yours is," Alastor growled.
-o-0-o-
Minerva immediately knew when Alastor had returned back to the cottage, yet she remained in the terrace, reading her book. Alastor lumbered out of the cottage, noticeably carrying a long, no longer invisible bundling board. With a rather dramatic gesture, he threw it into the bay and then turned to face her.
"Come to my bed, Minerva," Alastor not so politely requested after he gave her long, hungry onceover.
"In the middle of the afternoon?" She playfully protested.
"If you wish I suppose we can always do it here," was his response.
"Alastor! What will the neighbors think?"
"That I'm a very lucky man..." was his rapid retort. "I've asked your chaperoning House Elves, Keki and Jaime, to disappear for a bit, so it's just us, lass."
"Just us?" Minerva asked.
"Just us," Alastor repeated, with additional emphasis on us.
He held out his hand to Minerva and then repeated his request that she join him in bed. The witch prettily blushed and nodded her head in agreement.
The End -