Kingsley Shacklebolt shrugged his shoulders and his consciousness returned back to his body. The entirely too perceptive Minerva had realized that he was missing Alastor something fierce and that's why he had visited her. It wasn't the entire reason, but he was feeling adrift. Times like this when he was hiding in the safe room underneath the remains of Alastor's cottage, he needed a reminder of why he was fighting.
He was a damn reckless fool to come home tonight of all nights. Perhaps Barty hadn't asked about the specifics between him and Alastor, but still, today was the anniversary of his first date with Alastor. The safe room was new, however, added after the entire sordid Barty Crouch incident.
Only one way in, only one way out.
Apparition.
Moody had gotten more paranoid after the attack and a Safe room had been the only way he'd return back home to the small cottage.
He hadn't lied to Minerva, those many months ago, how being on the run gave a man a time to think. It was almost Christmas now, and Kingsley was missing his family, wishing he was there for Nora's first Christmas. It wasn't as though he could have gotten her a proper gift as being a fugitive from the Muggle-Born Registration Commission wasn't conducive to buying presents. Not with his face plastered everywhere. Really, he was only Undesirable Number 3. You'd think as a former Auror, he'd rate higher than Hermione Granger.
Damn shame Moody wasn't alive. The bastard would be amused at how much they were offering for Kingsley's head on a platter.
"I miss you, Alastor. It's been eighteen months by my reckoning and I miss you dreadfully. I still can't believe you're dead. I'd think you'd be happy now, as Minerva and I are friendly now. Shame it took your death to cause it."
He had just finished the next to last of his reports when his stomach growled. It was a loud rumble, like thunder and Kingsley prayed that Alastor Moody hadn't heard it. The older, not really retired though there had been a party to celebrate his retirement complete with multiple proclamations from the Ministry Auror was sitting in the same room, working on whatever Alastor Moody did when he commandeered a desk at the barracks.
Alastor Moody better known as MadEye, commonly accepted to be absolutely barking mad among the Auror corps. His oddities and peculiarities were legendary among the corps including the well remarked upon fact that Alastor Moody had dated Professor Minerva McGonagall for quite some time.
That comment usually earned a whistle of disbelief from the newest Auror trainee who always refused to believe that the granite faced Alastor Moody and the spinster Professional McGonagall had personal lives. Not so for Kingsley as he could well imagine the redoubtable Minerva McGonagall going toe to toe with Alastor Moody.
Unlike the others, he didn't view Alastor Moody as a few straws short of a Nimbus. No, Moody was a grizzled survivor of battle fought and more importantly, wars won. And if sometimes he feared that his admiration for the older mage was more than mere hero worship, well, he just squashed those niggling doubts. Especially when he caught sight of Alastor's broad shoulders or heard Alastor's voice. Really, last thing he needed was for Alastor Moody to decide that Kingsley Shacklebolt had a bit of boy crush on him. Somehow, he doubted that Moody would be pleased.
So he kept his sparse conversations with Alastor short and professional. Let the others harass the older Auror for stories of battles fought, Kingsley just treated Alastor like any other comrade.
That he wished to shag.
He started on the next parchment and his stomach growled once more.
There was a sound of parchment hitting the desk and then the avalanche known as Alastor Moody rumbled. "Kingsley! Don't you ever eat?"
"I had tea…" Kingsley protested.
"You didn't. You got interrupted - came back and threw it in the bin as it was cold. You need to eat, Kingsley. What do you say to a home cooked meal? I make a rather decent stew if I say so myself."
At the time, Kingsley had been surprised by the invite, not realizing that it taken near a year for Alastor Moody to grab the courage to actually invite him over. That while Kinglsey had been everything he could not to appear like a prat, Alastor had been despairing over the fact that Kingsley wasn't interested.
Dinner had been quite good, afters delicious and the conversation easy. It was only after dinner that everything had gotten awkward.
Kingsley was sitting on the couch, feeling mellow. Not realizing that Alastor was a teetotaler, Kingsley had brought alcohol to the dinner. While Alastor wasn't a drinker, he didn't mind if others imbibed, so Kingsley had a few drinks. The younger Auror had been feeling ... good... when he realized anew how much he fancied Alastor. In that way. He had been listening to one of Alastor's highly improbable but Alastor swore it was true stories about an unidentified Ministry Official, a kangaroo and a kumquat.
The setup was unbelievable but Alastor was just so bloody funny that Kingsley had laughed hard. Alastor had smiled at him, a slight quirk of his lips that Kingsley had never before seen. It made him feel quite warm and not quite as mellow and it led to rather illicit thoughts. They were still smiling at each other when Alastor's magical eye rolled. It had been remarkably well behaved all night, seemingly acting in parallel with Moody's real eye.
"Sorry, it gets a mind of its own when I'm knackered," Alastor explained. He put his hand over his fake eye and then he swallowed. Nervously. "I don't suppose… what you're sporting… is for me?"
Reliving what happened next still pained Kingsley. He had floundered through an apology, determined not to insult the irascible Moody while a deeply mortified Alastor's face turned ashen.
"… and it's not because of you…" Kingsley insisted.
"Kinglsey, 'tis alright. I know…" Alastor paused then gamely continued. "I know the odds of a young buck like you sporting a stiffie for an old crip like me are pretty low. I was flattered… not offended… You've just had a bit too much to drink, so let's sober you up, send you home and we'll forget this ever happened. I shouldn't have mentioned it…just surprised me… Been awhile since I got a standing ovation."
"Flattered?" a stunned Kingsley questioned. "You're not angry?"
"No," Alastor softly admitted with a twisted, self-mocking smile. 'Now, let's get you sober and send you…"
Home might have been what Alastor was about to say but an Auror always knew when to strike. He kissed a stunned Alastor on the mouth. And then he found himself flat on his back on the couch with Alastor Moody on top.
And so their relationship had begun. It quickly developed into a set routine. Kingsley would come for dinner and a very enthusiastic Alastor would ensure that Shacklebolt would end up completely starkers before dinner. There was a great deal of sex of which the hot-blooded Kingsley thoroughly enjoyed however Alastor's idiosyncrasies were the flies in the ointment.
Alastor never undressed completely. No, he'd hitch his shirt up and undo his trousers but that was all. Also his fake leg stayed on, which was rather unnerving at most intimate of times.
He insisted on topping … well maybe that wasn't correct. He didn't insist, but when Kingsley endeavored to initiate, Alastor took control and focused on his partner's enjoyment. And while Kingsley had christened their relationship (and the various pieces of furniture) in every part of Alastor's small cottage, it was always in Alastor's bed… in the darkness… when it was Alastor's turn. They never went out in public; it was always sex at Alastor's and then dinner. Then still more sex.
It was a comfortable pattern, sex, food and more sex, yet Kingsley felt like maybe there should be something more? It was unbelievable that he and Alastor had been shagging each other pretty regularly for four months and he had never seen Alastor naked… or in a nightshirt even. Alastor wore 'em, as they were neatly arranged in his closet, but… why was Alastor keeping him at arm's length?
After another frantic tumble into Alastor's bed in what had to be spell-assisted pitch blackness, Kingsley decided they really needed to chat. He waited until their bucking bodies had slowed, heard the slight hitch of Alastor's breath and felt Alastor relax. Just to be safe, he waited until there was the rustle of clothes as Alastor tucked himself in. There was a brush of Alastor's lips against his face and a soft, "Now you go to sleep. Hopefully, this old man tuckered you out."
"Alastor, can we talk? We can't go on like this! I'm here just about everyday."
Dear God, he was the female in the relationship!
A sharp inhalation was Alastor's response. Then Alastor softly said, "You're right. It's not proper to carry on like this. Only one solution…"
Kingsley's heart skipped three beats and then thudded into toes.
"When you moving in, Lee?"
Not the response he was anticipating. And it seemed that Alastor had given him a pet name.
"I'll clean out my closets, so you can have half. I'll even work on putting an Expanding Charm on them as you'll need more than half. You being such a peacock with your fancy robes you'll need more room," teased Alastor. "Once you're settled in, I'll invite Minerva over for dinner, Lee."
"Minerva?" Kingsley asked.
"Yes, I really wish you and Minerva to be friendly. It's very important to me," explained Alastor.
"Minerva?" Kingsley repeated.
The dinner with Minerva had been absolute torture. For one thing, Alastor made a noticeable effort at cleaning up his cottage. Not that it was ever dirty... but it was comfortable and lived in. Now the little cottage shone, and Alastor had gone all out, a new crisp shirt, a hair trim and a small centerpiece of posies. They were having a bloody roast! With horseradish sauce! Yorkshire pudding!
Then Alastor had buzzed Minerva on the cheek when she appeared at the door.
"Thank you for coming. I made your favorites," had been his greeting. Then Alastor smiled at Kingsley and pointed towards her. "This is Minerva. We've been great friends since Hogwarts. And this is Kingsley. He's putting up with me these days."
"Delighted," Minerva cooed.
"Charmed," was Kingsley's easy response.
"You two get to know each other and I'll finish up dinner."
Alastor's current and Alastor's ex looked at each other, then glanced at Alastor as he lumbered toward the kitchen. They looked at each other, guestimated the others' age, their relationship with Alastor, how many wrinkles or grey hair they did or did not possess and quickly decided that they didn't like each the other – not one bit. Their dislike was instinctive; much like a stray cat and a junkyard mutt facing each other.
"I'll go help Alastor," Minerva informed Kingsley. Some might view her retreat to the kitchen as a sign of defeat however Kingsley knew better. The witch was shoring up her defense, while planning her offense.
Kingsley crept quickly to the kitchen and Listened though the wall.
"How old is he?" Minerva asked. Her tone was reproachful.
Alastor said not a word; instead there was a clanging of a pot on a stove.
In a softer tone, "Is he even thirty?"
"He's twenty-seven," Alastor regretfully admitted.
"And you're fifty nine," reminded Minerva.
"I've got five weeks left of being fifty-eight," protested Alastor. "You, of all people, should know my birthday because I am exactly three months, seven days, two hours and thirty five minutes older than you."
"Alastor, he's so much younger than you."
"I can count," growled Alastor. "I know exactly how many years older I am then he is. I know to the very minute how much older I am."
"You're quite smitten with him! To move him into your house, Alastor! I am just worried - I don't want you getting hurt," Minerva protested. "There is a significant age difference, Alastor."
"I can keep up with him. I take him to bed and wear him out. He's got no complaints about that..." Alastor admitted. "I take pride in that I'm as good as any able bodied man in that respect."
"Alastor, you look exhausted and your leg is bothering you. And don't tell me it's because the weather's damp so your aching bones are preventing you from sleeping. Alastor, don't be an idiot. Don't give yourself a heart attack while trying to prove that you can keep up with a twenty seven year old buck.
"He makes me happy, Min. I like having someone living in this house with me. I enjoy having someone sharing my bed with me. I don't like being by myself and it's good to have someone to natter on with."
"Right, you're just looking for conversation, Alastor. Please, I know you. I know you so well, Alastor. Do you let him see you naked?" was Minerva's retort. "Or are you hiding your scars and your missing body parts behind a long nightshirt? Are you even undressing that far?"
There was a slight splash as Alastor stirred the sauce a bit too briskly.
"Lights on or off, Alastor?"
Still no answer.
"Leg off or on?"
Silence. More clattering and clanging of pans. But Kingsley's heart lurched as he realized how well Minerva knew Alastor.
"Those are rather personal questions regarding a sensitive area between Kingsley and me, Min. Not answering them."
"I have a very good idea what the answers are. The way you're favoring your leg means you're keeping your leg on. You know full well you're not supposed to sleep wearing it. Your skin will break down and you'll become septic."
"It's still... new... between us... I... really... fancy him, Min. I was hoping you'd like him, too. It would mean a great deal to me to have your approval."
"I won't approve of you acting like the lovelorn fool, besotted with a man who is half your bloody age! Alastor, your dragonhide jacket is older than he is!"
There was a sharpness in Alastor's tone that Kingsley had never heard before when Alastor finally responded to Minerva. "You best be polite to Kingsley, or I'll give you what for being rude."
"Alastor, we've been friends for nearly fifty years."
"And lovers for close to forty. Based on those two reasons, I'd like your approval. However, I do not need it. Funny, I thought you'd be more alarmed by the fact that Kingsley possesses a fine penis than by the age difference."
"Well, that was a surprise, to be honest. But the age gap is what has me concerned. He's so young, Alastor. Does he any idea what he wants from his life? A family? Children?"
"You forget, Minerva. How I wanted that more than anything at one time. The sting has faded over time."
"But you've never stopped wanting it, Alastor. You're lying to yourself if you don't admit it."
Another slam of the oven door.
"I'm the bloody emperor of daft prats for inviting you over," Alastor finally admitted. "I just hoped that the two people I am closest to in this entire world would get along like a cauldron on fire. It's over between us, Minerva. It's been over for decades. We were just too stubborn, too proud to admit that it could never have worked between us. Your father would have liked it to be otherwise, but I think he knew."
"I really wished him to be my father-in-law, you know."
"I know, Alastor. And he always viewed you as his son," softly admitted Minerva. "Look, I'll try to like Kingsley. You've just got to promise me that you stop trying so hard with him. I know how much you enjoy physical closeness, but you have to be careful about your stump. You know it has to come off when you're making love."
"I was hoping that... I could put that off for a bit longer," confessed Alastor.
"You believe that he doesn't notice the fact you limp? I find it hard to believe that he hasn't noticed you're short a leg."
"He knows about the leg and he cannot help but see what Rosier did to my face. He just hasn't seen all of it."
"So your plan was to keep Kingsley sated by shagging him to an inch of his life for a year or three, and then decide to drop trow and finally introduce him to your short leg?"
"I didn't say it was a brilliant plan. I just worry what his reaction will be when he sees what's left of me," Alastor explained. "You wept when you first saw me. You can't deny that. You stayed because you refused to see me as the man I had become. You insisted on seeing me as the man I once was. He's never known the old Alastor, the one that both eyes and the one that could run up a flight of steps. Kingsley has only known me as a paranoid one-eyed freak."
"Why don't you try something new? Stop shagging him and have a serious conversation."
"Minerva, Kingsley and I are both men. Talking is not part of the male code." Alastor explained.
"He obviously sees something in you, why else would he move in?" was Minerva's surprisingly astute comment.
Kingsley didn't hear Alastor's response as instead he decided he had heard enough. He and Alastor had never had that easy a conversation. No, Alastor saw him as lightweight, good for a tumble but someone who'd be sickened and repulsed by what Alastor had experienced. Alastor didn't realize that Alastor's experience was what had captured Kingsley's attention. He wasn't a sick bugger that got off on what Alastor had endured, but he was amazed by how Alastor still got up every morning and fought the good fight.
Lesser men would have crumbled to dust, been content to take their retirement, not Alastor. He was a fighter.
Kingsley was pensive throughout the dinner. Normally, with Minerva as possible competition, he would have made an effort to be lively and flirtatious. Instead, he was introspective as he mentally reviewed his various interactions with Alastor.
Like the damn fool he was, Kingsley had gotten quite attached to Moody in their short time together.
Foolishly, he had refused to look too deeply at Alastor's relationship with Minerva. It was over, in the past, yet the two of them talked. Intimately.
He could tell that there was still a great deal of love that lingered between the two of them. A chemistry that could easily reignite.
The realization was a kick to his 'nads.
He felt adrift.
Like he was five years old again, sitting in a corner while two kindly women informed that he was never to see his mum and his da again. That they were making arrangements for his grandmother and his grandfather to come to the orphanage, that he'd be going home with them to Barbados.
Instinctively, he retreated back inside himself. On the outside, he was coolness and composure, as he learned early on to never display any weakness.
He spoke when he was spoken to, made polite conversations about who was the Ballycastle's best hope for beating the Pride and smiled when Alastor lambasted Rita Skeeter's last column. Minerva had offered to make, tea leaving the two men alone while Alastor decided to investigate Kingsley's reticence.
"Lee," Alastor whispered. "You alright?"
"I'm absolutely fabulous," Kingsley offered."Never better."
"You're very quiet tonight. Are you upset about Minerva?"
"No," he politely responded. "She's very significant part of your life. Why should I be upset that you wanted to have her over for dinner?"
"Lee, I'll tell her to leave right now," a flustered Alastor offered. "I didn't mean to upset you. Believe me, everything between Minerva and me is stone cold. I'm involved with you."
"Alastor, I'm fine with your relationship with Minerva. It speaks well of both of you that you two are friendly." Kinsley almost believed his lies and Alastor narrowed his eyes.
"You can be honest with me, Kingsley. You can," Alastor insisted.
"I am being honest," was Kingsley's response.
Alastor continued to stare and then nodded his head. Now, knowing Alastor so much better, Kingsley could see that Alastor was lambasting himself for upsetting Kingsley.
"I'll make it worth your while for humoring this old man. After Minerva's gone, I'll do some nice things to you that I know you like. How's that?" Alastor's tone was quite soft. "You'll like that right? Especially since you don't have to get up so blasted early in the morning. You can have a nice lie in... I'll make you breakfast... I found a new recipe for Cassava Biscuits. I think this time it'll be like how your grandmother made it. Bloody shame that she didn't write down her recipes because I know how much you liked her food. I'll keep trying until I get it right, Lee."
Again, Kingsley heard for the first time, Alastor's insecurity. How Alastor was fumbling in his sincere attempts to reassure Kingsley.
"I had just hoped that you two would get along," explained Alastor. "I wanted that more than anything."
"Alastor, we got along just fine," Kinglsey lied. This time his sincerity seemed to sway Alastor as the older man sighed and unhunched his shoulders. "I'm sure if you asked Minerva, she'd say the same thing."
"I must have been mistaken. I thought otherwise," Alastor confessed. "I'm not good at reading people."
"I wish I had known you better. Realized how much you hid from me. I wouldn't have thought you weak for confiding in me. I would have been honored by your trust in me, Alastor," Kingsley whispered. "You never told me about your father, how he was an alcoholic and that's why you never drink. I understand why you went to Minerva and I forgive you for being unable to confide in me. However, I won't ever forgive you for letting your prideful stubbornness nearly kill you."
Alastor had insisted on doing a walkabout. Didn't need Kingsley hovering like a mother hen. He had been in the trunk for a year and he wished to stretch his legs. Alone. And if he didn't get out now, then he risked turning into a goddamn recluse.
That's what he claimed, though Kingsley knew Alastor was off to visit with Minerva. Damn the woman. She hadn't noticed that Alastor had been replaced by Barty, and he hoped that she felt guilty. That it was eating away at her soul, knowing that she had kept Alastor in the trunk. Yes, when Alastor had accepted the position as the latest Doomed Instructor of Defence, he had sworn up and down, right and left that he'd not talk to Minerva more than was required to get through teaching. No fond reminiscing. No after dinner drinks. Strictly professional. Moody wouldn't trigger the alleged hex as he was teaching for only one year, and no more.
He was only doing it as a personal favorite to Albus.
And Kingsley, like the fool he was, had agreed not to correspond with Alastor while he was at Hogwarts. Kingsley had a long term mission and well, Alastor didn't wish the kiddies to talk. Kingsley hadn't wished to agree, but Alastor was being stubborn... and... well damn it, Kingsley was a bit peeved about Alastor and Minerva being in close quarters. If Alastor Moody wished to go teach kiddies for a year then jolly good for him. And with his ex being right down the hallway well... good for Alastor. Kingsley would see him in a year, maybe or maybe not.
That didn't mean that during that long, lonely year, Kingsley didn't hope for an owl from Alastor.
And instead, Alastor had been in his trunk.
Since August.
Kingsley had gone out on his mission and Alastor had gotten jumped by Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch, Junior.
And the experience had left Alastor severely traumatized. No matter how carefully Kingsley endeavored, Alastor refused to let Kingsley touch him. Yet Alastor followed him 'round the cottage whenever Kingsley was home, intent on being in the same room as Kingsley. So it seemed Alastor wished to be near him but not in physical contact. Couldn't get within arm's reach of Alastor, and they weren't even sharing their bed.
No, the all too thin Alastor slept on the floor, curled up like a question mark. Some might consider it a victory that Kingsley had managed to sneak a mattress underneath Alastor one night.
Not Kingsley.
Because he had fallen asleep on the floor, positioned next to the mattress. The next morning he had found himself in his far too lonely bed as Alastor had put him to bed during the middle of the night. And that morning, Alastor informed Kingsley that he was having a walkabout.
Looking back, having learned so much about Moody in the intervening time, Kingsley could understand exactly why the wounded Alastor had retreated back to Minerva, the woman who still viewed him as unchanged from when they had first met. At the time, Kingsley couldn't get past the sting of Alastor and Minerva together.
He obsessed on it for hours, knowing that Alastor and Minerva were horizontal. Alastor's infidelities... Alastor might think he hid his unfaithfulness from Kingsley, but Kingsley always knew. He never said anything because... he had long decided that having Alastor ninety percentage of the time was a fair sight better than never having him. While he had uneasily accepted the situation, it still didn't prevent Kingsley from flogging himself raw over the fact that Kingsley Shacklebolt wasn't enough for Alastor Moody. Or vowing that he'd develop a backbone.
Alastor's arrival was deliberately clamorous. He was loaded down with enough takeout bags to make it appear as though he was planning on feeding the Weasleys. Which meant he felt quite guilty about sleeping with Minerva.
The old Auror looked like hell, his face drawn and his eyes red-rimmed. He was so damn thin, having lost muscle and mass during his stay in the trunk.
"I bought your favorites," Aastor needlessly informed Kingsley. Then in a feeble attempt to keep control, Alastor claimed it was a bribe.
"A bribe?" Lee asked.
"My back is paining me. I was hoping if I fed you a proper meal, I might convince you to massage it. Later? I don't care... hands... fingers... whatever... just..."
When Kingsley rubbed Alastor's back, it always led to one thing. But the way Alastor was offering meant that he was giving up control to Kingsley which Alastor never ever did. That offer, far more than the traditional Barbados Buffet Bribe softened Kingsley's righteous anger. They bantered for a bit, and then Kingsley reached out to Alastor, placing the back of his hand against Alastor's scarred cheek.
"I always liked it when I came home after a rough day. You'd help me out of my jacket and help me relax." Kingsley stopped. "I'd like to... relax... you before dinner."
A very subdued yet oddly intense Alastor nodded his head.
"Let's put supper away," decided Kingsley.
When that was done, Alastor was helped out of his jacket and vest. The two men stared at each other and then they both spoke at the same time.
"We don't have to do this, Alastor," Kingsley offered.
"I wasn't worried about dying, you know. I worried that if I ever got out, you would have found someone."
"No, never," Kingsley assured the older man. Recklessly then, he embraced Alastor. His lover recoiled... and then hugged him back. Then, he stole a kiss from Moody. A short, quick peck on the lips, but he tasted something.
Alastor had brushed his teeth recently as his mouth was pepperminty, but there was a tang of something. He kissed Alastor again, taking it slowly from closed mouth to an open mouth kiss. Again, he tasted something... spicy like cinnamon but more.
A few more savory kisses, plus a rather significant bulge in Alastor's trousers helped Kingsley realize that Alastor had taken dragon's blood. A bloody aphrodisiac. No wonder Alastor wished for physical closeness.
"Alastor... what type of dragon's blood did you take?"
"Hebridean Black," Alastor finally admitted.
Hebridean Black, only the most potent blood aphrodisiac there was.
"That's illegal use of a controlled substance, Alastor. Who did you get it from?"
"Mundungus. He was selling it, so I confiscated it. I never turned it in, as my oven needed cleaning. I saved it thinking I might need it someday."
Bloody hell, it wasn't even fresh Dragon's Blood. No, it was old, so the properties had strengthened.
"Mundungus Fletcher will be the very death of you, Alastor. Why did you take it?"
"It's been almost a year, Kingsley. We didn't part on good terms... as an old man, I worried that... tonight... wouldn't be good for you. That I wouldn't be keen enough to wear you out for a proper homecoming. I drank a thimbleful... no more... but my blood's burning, Kingsley. My heart's beating so hard right now."
He couldn't take Alastor to St. Mungo, as Rita would find out. Then Alastor's tall, tenancious todger would be the talk of the town.
What happened next was a quick egress to the parlor, an untucking of Alastor's shirt and an unbuckling of Alastor's trousers. What occurred next was quick and furious and it left a spent Alastor fighting a losing battle against falling asleep in a chair next to the fireplace.
"Lee..." he rumbled.
"Shhh... never you mind. Let's put your short leg up on the ottoman, and you go to sleep. You've been wearing me out for years so now it's finally my turn," Kingsley teased the exhausted Alastor. "When you wake up, we'll do it again. First, I'll tuck you back in so you're presentable in case someone stops in to visit."
"I didn't reciprocate..." Moody was so knackered he was slurring his words. His head was bobbing and his breathing was slowing and deepening.
"Never you mind. You just go to sleep and I'll watch over you." Kingsley kept his voice soft and free from the anger he was feeling. As a willing recipient of Alastor's legendary sexual stamina, Kingsley would never have believed that Alastor would fall asleep after a quick blow job.
"Damn you, Voldemort. Damn you and your lackwitted followers," Kingsley growled.
"Alastor, the ocularist is here with your new eye," Anna Chalmers informed her patient. "How's the new leg?"
"When do I get to stop modeling it and do a shufti? " Alastor asked. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and wiggling his feet. They had done a good job with his fake leg. It looked real, though he had to keep looking at it to confirm that it wasn't wooden.
Yes, a wooden peg leg, like a pirate. That would be fear inducing. Now, this eye they were giving him – they had assured him that it would be painted to look like his good eye. Damn shame it couldn't spin round in its socket so he could see out of the back of his head. And maybe an electric blue… that would be an excellent color for a fake eye… as that way he'd know if anyone took it. Tried to pass it off as their own…
Sometimes, he wondered about these strange thoughts that bubbled up in his mind. Everything before waking up in the ward, trussed up like a Christmas goose, was a bit blurry and fuzzy. Plus what he remembered didn't make a lot of sense. Father Christmas made appearances, frequently, in his dreams, though he was usually dressed in pastels and purples…. Plus those two people who were Anna and Kwasi but most assuredly weren't.
And the fear of falling. That was new… and why the fascinations with brooms, as though they were a means of escape.
"You are quite uncooperative as a patient," was Anna's tart retort.
"I've heard that said," agreed Alastor. For good measure, he popped his neck, much to Anna's horror. Really, the only reason why Alastor did that was to watch Anna's eyes bulge.
"Please stop doing that," Anna requested. "I keep anticipating that you'll pop your neck out of alignment again. And again, we're not letting you off the ward. You're too dangerous to go out on your own."
Really, the Healer said the nicest things. Other people might get offended, but Alastor liked being called dangerous, outrageous, insubordinate and a daft prat by a pretty woman. It felt… familiar and reassuring.
"Stop flirting," Alastor snapped. "You'll get Kwasi jealous if he hears you complimenting me like that."
Really, the response was instinctive, though Anna looked confused.
The fake eye was placed in the socket and the ocularist looked pleased.
"I do good work," he admitted proudly. "You can't tell which one is fake."
"The white eyebrow might be a giveaway," Alastor offered helpfully. "Plus the scar running from the top of my head to my t…"
"Alastor!" Anna protested, preventing Alastor from mentioning where that particular scar ended.
"Sorry, Min. You know how I am." Alastor's apology was not so much repentant as matter of fact. Then he knocked on his head for good measure. "All that head trauma, I seem to have lost my filter."
"Please stop doing that," Anna feebly protested.
The new eye installed, the new leg required breaking in, so Alastor decided he needed to escape from the hospital. Plus it was Christmas…. Or near abouts and he should get something for the two Healers. Though he couldn't really wear jimjams out in public. If only he had decent clothes, and a bowler hat. A muffler also to hide his scars would be wonderful.
Alastor thought really hard about the clothes he needed to do a proper shufti. He muttered some incomprehensible words and then decided to check his bureau once more, just to see if there were clothes. Maybe some had spontaneously arrived.
To his delight, there were some and they fit perfectly. He wrapped himself up with the muffler and looked in the mirror. If he tilted the hat just so, you couldn't see his discolored eyebrow. And there was money in his pocket.
Now to escape the guards of Azkaban… Alastor paused, wondered about where those strange thoughts came from and what they might possibly mean. However, time was fleeting, so he decided it necessary to just think invisible thoughts so he could walk past the attendants.
It was surprisingly easy, as though people couldn't see him.
He stepped out of the hospital and took a deep breath. For a moment, he had felt something when he had crossed the threshold, like stepping through a filmy veil.
No, it was just his imagination.
Though the holly tree caught his attention, especially the branch that had fallen to the ground. Maybe a foot long or so, and Alastor picked it up. It felt good in his hand, like it belonged there and he decided to keep it. Maybe he could whittle it down, smooth it out.
Yes, that would be his new project.
After he bought Christmas presents.
Severus Snape and his billowing black robes stalked the hallways of Hogwarts until he reached Minerva's quarters.
"Professor McGonagall, it's Headmaster Snape. I wish to speak with you," he announced.
No doubt there was a flurry of activity as Nora and Nessie were securely put away for the night. Really, it was too good an opportunity to pass up, so he again announced his arrival and demanded entrance or else he'd just come in. It was his privilege as Headmaster after all.
Minerva opened the door and he pushed himself into the room.
"I just wished to inform you that Kingsley Shacklebolt has been located at his former residence. He mentioned the Dark Lord's true name. It is Taboo to mention his name, and the Dark Lord's followers arrived."
Minerva grew still and then Severus added in an off-handed manner, "He escaped but no doubt he'll be caught soon."
If the Dark Lord's followers suddenly developed a clue and a drunken Kingsley decides to strip naked and run through the halls of Hogwarts during teatime. Plus trip over a House Elf or three.
"Why did you tell me this?" Minerva asked.
"As colleagues, I felt that I should let you know why Kingsley's patronus will not be making any house calls in the middle of the night. Really, Minerva, did you think I would not know? About Kingsley? About his lynxy visits?"
"I don't know about what you're talking," Minerva lied.
"I haven't told the others. They might believe that you're leading a rebellion under my nose, what with nightly visits from Undesirable # 3. They wouldn't understand that he's visting his wife and child. Speaking of which, I must apologize for not congratulating you on the birth of Nora when it happened. For some reason, you didn't share the glad tidings with me."
Severus noticed how Minerva's hand instinctively tightened into what could only be a dueling stance.
"Listen to me, I don't wish any problems between us. I won't mention Nora to the others, if you promise to behave. Or if that's not possible, just don't get caught in your little schemes to overthrow me and undermine my authority. While I find them quite entertaining, the others may not."
"I don't understand, why?" Minerva stressed the word.
"Because Nora is a Pure Blood, born from the carnal joining of the Pure Blooded Houses of Moody and McGonagall."
