Kingsley Shacklebolt was nervy as a brand new Auror traineer face to face with Voldemort. Alastor Moody was alive… alive… and hiding in a rundown section of Kilkenny. The wood door was heavily Warded, thoroughly done. Though in Kingsley's professional opinion, it was more than a bit sloppy compared to Alastor's artistic norm. Kingsley decided it prudent to ask Alastor to lower his wards. In the past, Alastor's wards had accepted him as part of Alastor, so they hadn't rebounded on him.
But now, with an Alastor Moody who was alive… alive… and living in a rundown boarding house in Kilkenny? An Alastor Moody who hadn't come home after the Battle of Hogwarts? Who had experienced significant physical trauma? Who had forgotten most of his life?
"Alastor, will you open the door, please?" Kingsley softly requested. "Your wards are on a hair-trigger. I fear that I might activate them."
"You came to see me, you take them down," was Alastor's terse response.
"Very well, I guess I'm back to being a trainee," Kingsley agreed. He Pulled and he Stretched the delicate bonds that interlaced the wards, breaking the wards apart slowly. Each spell rebounded in a unique way, completely unpredictable compared to Alastor's usual meticulous technique. It was then that Kingsley came to an unhappy realization; Alastor had told him to take down the spells because Alastor didn't know how to negate them. "Bugger me; you're doing this all by instinct?"
When the door was cleared, Kingsley announced that he was incoming. How he hoped that Alastor couldn't hear his heart pounding.
"Alastor, before I come into the room, I can prove that it's me. The real Kingsley," offered the younger mage. "Can you hear me?"
"Entire blasted neighborhood can hear you. I'm surprised that that they haven't called the poli."
Well, that sounded like Alastor, at least.
In a soft voice, Kingsley explained, "Your boggart was your father. I'm the only one besides you that ever knew that. Not even Minerva knew that so it's really me, Alastor. It's Lee."
He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but perhaps… he had hoped that Alastor would meet him at the door.
No. Moody didn't. Instead, the shaggy haired, heavily bearded Alastor was sitting at the kitchen table, head bowed, shoulders slumped. In his large hands, was a cuppa and there was a half eaten breakfast on the table. There were Tarot cards spread on the table, and a book on beginning Charms that was heavily marked in Alastor's neat handwriting. Kingsley saw how Alastor had written out the proper pronunciations for the most basic of spells, like he was a firstie, intent on obtaining an O.
The Oi is pronounced ɔɪ as in spoiled.
"Water's still hot in the kettle if you wish a cuppa," Alastor offered. His voice was rough as though he hadn't used it a while. "You can make yourself your own cuppa, as I don't remember inviting you for tea and bikkies."
"Kettle?" Kingsley asked. "You're using a kettle for tea? I didn't think you knew how to use a stove."
Yes. That was he needed to do. Keep his composure calm, cool, collected. Don't let Alastor know how he feared how his life had been completely torn asunder because Alastor was back and he wasn't acting like Alastor. Alastor never used a tea for kettle, he just snapped his fingers and the water was the proper temperature for a good cuppa. Oh bloody hell, his family? What did this mean to them? How would Minerva take the news that Alastor Moody was in the land of the living?
"Don't have enough control to do it the other way," rumbled Alastor. He took the cards, put them back into neat deck, shuffled them and then put them down. "Might burn down the building."
"Alastor? Will you look at me when you talk to me, please?" Kingsley requested.
Alastor turned his body in his chair to face Kingsley. He didn't turn his head, didn't turn his neck, no, he pivoted his entire body.
"Neck is spasming today. Can't turn it. Back's bad also. Ran out of medication, so I tried to copy it. I didn't get it quite right. Pain's still there and I'm fuzzy and slow. Least my thoughts aren't racing around and around in my skull."
"Let me take you to a Healer." Yes, that's what Alastor needed. A proper Healer who wouldn't use metal screws to put Humpty Dumpty Moody back together again.
"No." That wasn't just a rumble of thunder; Alastor's refusal was a deafening, disorientating avalanche.
"It's safe now. Voldemort is dead. There's so much I need to tell you that I don't even know where to begin." That was certainly an understatement.
"Why don't you tell me about your wife, Lee? Does Minerva know that you're with me?"
Those questions floored Kingsley. How did Alastor Moody know? More importantly, how much did he know?
"Yes, Minerva and I are married." Kingsley softly admitted. "Severus tell you that?"
"Saw you at Hogwarts," explained Alastor. "You looked good together. Even in the middle of that insanity, you two looked really good. I'm truly glad you two hooked up… I am… Just don't tell Minerva you found me, because I don't want her fearing me buggering up a good thing. Say what you have to say, Lee. Then you leave and I'll move on – then we'll never lay eyes on each other again. No worries, I never liked Kilkenny anyway."
Alastor's tone was flat. He wasn't angry, he wasn't argy bargy Alastor, he was just… emotionless. As though, the unquenchable fire which had always defined Alastor to Kingsley, had been doused.
"Alastor, I had to marry Minerva."
That admission earned Kingsley a grimace from Alastor. Really, this wasn't how Kingsley wished to handle this important conversation.
"I had to marry her because she fell pregnant by the presumed deceased love of her life. Congratulations, you're a father, Alastor."
That caused a reaction, but not the one Kingsley anticipated as Alastor exploded. Alastor stood up quickly, flipped the table and then threw the kettle of hot water at Kingsley. The younger man barely missed being burned by his quick reflexes.
"You're not Lee. You're NOT! Who are the sodding hell are you? LeStrange? Minerva's barren. Lee knew that!"
The battle was quick and one-sided as a recuperating Alastor was speedily subdued and restrained. Kingsley gently restrained him in a comfy chair and placed a neck pillow around his neck. For his thanks, a raving Alastor Moody struggled to bite off his fingers, all the while spewing a flood of vitriol that would have made Bellatrix LeStrange blush.
"Enough, Alastor," Kingsley commanded. He Muted Alastor and then shook his head. "I don't wish to restrain you, but I can't let you hurt yourself. Easy, Alastor, easy. And for once in your life, you're going to stop yammering and listen to me. When you stop screaming, you'll be able to talk again and I'll loosen the restraints. After Barty, I hate restraining you."
With a delicate touch, Kingsley focused on Alastor's neck, felt where it was spasming and concentrated on soothing and calming the muscles. He was slipping back into old habits. On the bad nights, when Alastor's old wounds pained him, Kingsley would massage him while Alastor would be forced to listen. It was a fair trade, as Alastor just listened while Kingsley talked.
"Alastor Moody, you will have to listen to me. I know you went to Minerva for a final goodbye before the battle of Seven Harrys. You two ended up horizontal. I knew you two had and it bloody hurt so badly, Alastor. Because once again, you had gone to her. When you died… when I thought you had bloody died, I went back to search for your body. And I couldn't find it…"
His composure slipping, Kingsley continued to talk, "And I couldn't find you… I went to Minerva… I had to tell her that you were dead… and I needed to be with you one last time… so I bedded Minerva. When she fell pregnant, I knew that the baby was yours, I knew it, but I lied. I convinced her that you and I… that we both had been careless… I lied… because that baby was part of you and if she believed that was a remote chance that I might be the father, that was the only way she'd let me help her. I took your timeturner and absconded with her to Barbados for a year so she could have the baby."
He needed a moment to settle himself, so he took a deep breath before continuing. "You should have seen her when she was nine months gone, Alastor. God, she quite took my breath away. Originally, I helped her out of obligation, because you weren't there, but… it developed into something."
Alastor was settling down beneath his touch, his breathing slowing. Kingsley continued to massage the older man's neck, and then he moved his hands to Alastor's temples. Carefully, he loosened the restraints on Moody, but ensuring that he could quickly restrain the older man if necessary.
"Your daughter's name is Nora. She is an unholy ginger-haired terror right now as she's teething. I look at her, and I see you in her. Minerva and I… we came to a new understanding in what was a faux marriage,we even took in this orphan named Bryce that we're the process of adopting. His father was a Muggleborn wizard and his mum was a Muggle. We finally figured out that he's five… and… I fear he saw the Death Eaters get his father."
Shoulders were massaged next, as Alastor always had pain when the weather changed, especially the right one. It felt… good… to be touching Alastor once more.
"I adore that little boy and I wish I knew what to do with him. He doesn't talk to me, but he is thick as thieves with Minerva. I try not to smile when he's with Nora; he's very intense about his position of big brother. Everyone tells me that he mourning his father so I should not push him. I should be happy that he is fitting in with Minerva and Nora. It's too soon for Bryce, to accept me, after losing his father. Alastor… I wish he'd laugh. Just the once. He's such a serious boy, Alastor. I'd buy him a roomful of toys, if he would just smile."
He was exhausted, so his hands had stilled. To Lee's surprise, Alastor brushed his lips against Kingsley's finger. The older man then positioned himself so his head was resting on Kingsley's hand. The two of them stayed like that for a spell, before Alastor spoke.
"You said your peace, now you go, Lee. Go back to your family and you forget you ever saw me here. You just focus on being the best father you can. Bryce will need you to be loving and patient with him while he's healing. He'll come around; I know he will, because it's impossible not to be charmed by you. As for him being a mite serious, your grandmum Sara told me that is how you were. You turned out fine – you just can't tell a joke to save your life."
Alastor's voice was soft while Kingsley's was most assuredly not. No, his tone was hard and dangerous.
"The only way I'm leaving here, Alastor, is if you are coming with me."
"No, Lee. I show up, very much not dead, I'll just bugger up everything. You and Minerva are mates, finally. I wanted you two to be friendly, but I kept stirring things up between you because I couldn't keep it in my pants. You're happy, Kingsley. I am not taking that from you. You two are happy in your marriage, I'm not destroying that. You've got a family, Kingsley. You always wished for that. You could never have that with me."
"You have a point there, Alastor. In fact, you have several points," Kingsley admitted. "You kept bouncing between Minerva and me, causing no end of pain to all of us. All three of us."
Alastor closed both eyes and softly agreed.
"However, that will be nothing compared to the heartache you will cause Nora when she realized that her father didn't want anything to do with her. Taking after your father, Alastor?" Kingsley said. "He'd be proud that you're carrying on the Moody tradition."
It was a low blow, a direct kick to the 'nads. Alastor didn't explode, didn't give Kingsley the what for, no, he just nodded his head.
"It's better for her, really. I've got holes in my memory, but I remember, I remember, how everyone thought I was a raving nutter because of my paranoia. I'll suffocate her, Lee, with those racing thoughts in my head. The thoughts that won't keep quiet, that won't shut up. I'll turn her into a raving nutter like me because those thoughts are coming back. I can't get the meds right, the ones that kept my obsessions, those compulsions under control. You're her only hope for growing up normal. That she will have a father that she can respect and admire."
"When you leave, you'll put the wards back on the door, won't you? I can't get them neat. I keep redoing them over and over… I can't get them right. If anyone follows you here, knows you're here, I need a few minutes so I can disappear again."
"Alastor, I spoke with Kwasi and Anna. They think you're experiencing spell-shock and they had given you some Muggle medication to help. I understand why you feel that meeting your daughter will cause a cauldron of boiling trouble, it will, but Alastor… don't you even want to see what she looks like? We can go back to those Healers, get more medication for you, and find someone to duplicate it for you."
Kingsley's temper was fraying. He wasn't sure how he felt about Alastor being alive. Overjoyed but bloody scared as he was about to lose everything. Yes, once Alastor saw his daughter, there was no way in hell Kingsley would stand between them. Yet, how it would hurt knowing that Moody and Minerva were together again.
"No, I do not. A clean break is the best type."
"Unfortunately, I disagree. Here a picture of the four of us. I should warn you that I'm wearing your old kilt, as I needed something suitable to wear."
Alastor barked a laugh. "Suitable? They give you a medal, Lee? No, let me guess, you're Minister of Magic now."
"No and yes," was Kingsley's retort. "I thought giving myself a medal stunk of hubris."
"Bugger me. You're Minister? They recall Rufus the rapscallion?" Alastor growled. "He must be madder than a witch with piles riding a splintery broom."
"Alastor… I'm sorry. Rufus is dead." Best not to beat around the bush, nor quibble. Alastor and Rufus had been polar opposites in personalities, but had been trainees together.
"Bloody hell," whispered Alastor. "What about that pink haired girl, Dora and her husband? That Weasley boy? Who else died?"
"Dora, Remus and Fred are all alive, thanks to you. However there are too many to name who died, but here." Kingsley forced the picture of his happy family into Alastor's unresisting hands. "Alastor, Minerva is holding Nora, who decided that she wished to wear my kufi. I'm holding Bryce as he was overwhelmed by the noise. And the House Elf is Nessie, she is very helpful. I don't know if you can see it, but Minerva is wearing the thorn bracelet with roses. I found that and your wedding ring in the waistcoat pocket."
Alastor was not saying a word; instead his head was bowed, his long shaggy hair hiding his features. However, his hands were shaking.
"She's wearing the wedding ring that you would have given her. Plus, I'm still wearing both our rings. Now, let me put everything back to rights," Kingsley offered. "I made the mess. Let me fix it. You can have a moment or three in peace, Alastor."
He used his hands to physically clean the mess he had created. If Alastor was feeling that insecure with regards to his magic, Kingsley wasn't keen to remind him of how much he had lost. And what he would regain. However, Kingsley's desires just went so far, as he decided it best to utilize his magic to get the water to a proper temperature for two cuppas. Plus he didn't wish to pick up a full Tarot deck.
Alastor's brekkie was in shambles, plus Kingsley hadn't eaten. He foraged through the empty cabinets where there was nothing. Nothing. Nothing in the icebox except for a small container of leftovers that were distinctly unappetizing. All in all, a very depressing and quite bare kitchen, except for the fact that there was a small clock with two photos standing guard. There was one of him, wherever did Moody get that picture? He was so young! And there was a small picture of a very young Alastor with Minerva.
He made a bit of noise when he re-entered the room, but Alastor didn't hear him. No, Alastor was weeping, silently, his broad shoulders shaking. In the dozen or so years that Kingsley had known Alastor, he had witnessed Alastor weeping once; when his brother Henry had passed with the estrangement between the two men still intact.
"What's bothering you?" Kingsley asked. He kept his tone soft and affectionate.
"That child is a living reminder that I betrayed you," Alastor finally confessed. "That child represents all the promises I made to you and Minerva that I never kept. The vows that I shattered."
"That child is Nora, a rather delightful little minx that combines the very best of you and Minerva. I never see unfaithfulness when I look at her. She was created in love, Alastor. You and Minerva never stopped loving each other."
Alastor stood then, and faced Kingsley. His face hardened and his shoulders were straight, as though he was heading out to do battle with Voldemort himself.
Taking a long contemptuous glance at Kingsley, he shook his head. "You're pathetic. Grow a set, Kingsley. Created in love? What a pile of shite! Always content to be second best in my life. Didn't it stick in your craw? That I always went back to her? That you weren't man enough for me? Didn't you wonder how you compared in bed with her? Well, you were lacking. I always thought of her when we were in bed. That's why I always went back to her."
Kingsley's temper flared and Alastor found himself against a wall, with Kingsley's wand against his jugular.
"Does she do that little thing with her tongue? You know… the lapping?" Alastor asked. He put a little lewd twist in his tone, which caused Kingsley to see red. "Why don't you go home, ask her to…" Alastor was then quite crude about a rather private matter.
Kingsley Shacklebolt exploded. If Alastor wished to be rude and disparaging, well, it was time for Kingsley to respond in kind. And he knew exactly how to hurt Alastor.
"Well, she's assured me how much better I am in bed than you were. Minerva's bloody delighted that I have stamina, I have skill and I could keep going all night long. The only thing you ever did for her was give her Nora. You couldn't bloody commit. She got tired of it, Alastor. Got knackered with dealing with your insecurities and handholding through your emotional traumas. Most people move on from their childhood traumas, no, you just wallowed in your suffering, enjoying the feel of flagellating yourself because your daddy was a drunk and he didn't like you."
Alastor flinched and Kingsley continued, giving his anger free rein. The grief, the anger that he had been suppressing since Albus Dumbledore's death boiled over and he wished to hurt Alastor.
"She let you bed her, not out of any enjoyment of your technique, but out of sense of Christian kindness, doing her bit to help the crippled. You've always been nothing more than a charity case to her. And yes, she's compared your technique to mine, and has decided yours lacked originality. Bit of a prude, aren't you, Alastor? Is missionary truly the only position you've mastered?"
The younger man took a deep breath, counted from ninety seven backwards. He stared at Alastor, saw the thinly veiled pain in Alastor's good eye and realized what had just occurred. Alastor was pushing him away, so Kingsley would get royally enraged, declare Alastor a lost cause and then return back to his family. Guilt-free.
"You're the Emperor of Idiots, if you believe that I can't see through you," Kingsley gently informed Alastor. "You're too much of a gentleman to carnally compare Minerva and me. The only complaint Minerva and I have ever voiced about you – was your inability to ever confide in us. That you had barriers that we could never get through. Why do you always push us away, Alastor?"
Alastor was mute, and Kingsley put his wand back in his pocket.
"Alastor, I'm very sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. My anger got the better of me and I wished to wound you. I didn't realize what you were doing until I said those horrible, horrible things. Forgive me?" Kingsley softly pleaded.
"No worries. You spoke the truth, Lee. Minerva felt pity for me as I was friendless; the rest of my House mates knew how my father felt so I was wizard non-grata. My father was the go-to-man for wizards charged with questionable offenses, and he made no bones about how he felt about me, how he was planning on disowning me. I wasn't a real man in his eyes, because I wouldn't drink, wouldn't whore and wouldn't lie. My brother was a bloody alcoholic before he finished Hogwarts, thanks to my father. My father believed that I was queer, that's why he took me to the whores to make a man out of me."
"And I really did try with you. I did, and I knew it wasn't satisfactory for you. I had hoped that maybe… quantity would make up for the fact… it wasn't first-rate." That painful confession was quite low.
"Alastor… Alastor… I didn't mean anything that I just said," Kingsley insisted. "I was angry about what you said about us."
"I know you got tired of the same positions but sometimes, when we did something different, my leg… it got to aching. That one thing we tried, I know you thoroughly enjoyed it, but the next day, my leg felt like it did right after the Healers amputated it. Between the leg and my back, I was in bloody agony, Kingsley. When you wanted to do it again, I refused because I just couldn't. I couldn't. You thought I was being a bit of a prude, but I couldn't. I wanted to, because you really enjoyed it... I really did."
"You never told me," protested Kingsley. "Why didn't you tell me that what I suggested hurt you? I thought you'd enjoy it. It was supposed to be enjoyable for both of us."
"It was new and fragile between us. I knew you'd leave if you realized how damaged I was, and I fancied you. It was pleasant to be with someone, to have someone living with me."
"You're coming home with me, Alastor. The three of us will figure out what to do next, but you must meet your daughter, Alastor. You must be introduced to Bryce, too. He could certainly do with another uncle."
"Lee… I'm broken." Alastor admitted that easily, though Kingsley knew how much it hurt the proud Alastor to confess his failing.
"You're not broken. You're healing," insisted Kingsley.
"I am missing chunks of my memory, and my magic is erratic. I don't think I'm safe," protested a somber Alastor. "Think of the children."
"Alastor, you've obviously forgotten that you were never safe. You were a walking, talking disaster looking for a place to implode. Everyone battened down the hatches when you showed your face. Even Augusta Longbottom's stuffed vulture fears you."
"Idle flatter," retorted Alastor. "Lee. Seriously, I'm giving you the chance… Go back to your life. Forget you ever saw me. Don't let me turn your life arse over tit because I didn't stay dead."
"No, you're going to Hogwarts because Minerva's there. You two need to hash this out."
Minerva McGonagall sat in her sitting room, pondering Kingsley's strange message. It was a matter of some urgency, and he needed to speak with her in her quarters at Hogwarts. In private. And Kingsley had requested that the children were to be tucked away with one of their Hogwarts' aunties and uncles.
She rather doubted that Kingsley was feeling frisky, but really, it was too good an opportunity to waste, so she slipped into a long dressing gown. It was long sleeved and there was a bright green tie that perhaps her husband might wish to undo. If he was in the mood.
Kingsley apparated into the room with a rather noisy crack.
"Really, Kingsley, that was rather sloppy," she teased. Her quips about splinching were left unspoken as she realized that the normally unruffable Kingsley was quite undone.
"What's bothering you?" she asked.
"Minerva, I need you to sit down. It's very important. I don't wish you to faint."
"I'm not in the habit of swooning, Kingsley," Minerva snapped. Really, did Kingsley think she was Cissy Malfoy?
Kingsley took her hands and squeezed them. "It's Alastor."
"You found his body?" interrupted Minerva. "Please tell me you did, so we can bring him home and give him a proper burial."
"He's alive, Minerva. He's alive."
And she wasn't sure how Kingsley was feeling about that news.
"What?" a disbelieving Minerva exclaimed. "He's alive? Was he on a jolly holiday for the last year?"
"No, no. He was injured very badly during the battle of Seven Harrys. Severus…" Kingsley began.
"Where is he? Where is Alastor? I'm assuming that you brought him with you. That's why you were so noisy? Reveal yourself, Alastor Moody." Her tone was ringing as she peered through the room. "Finite Incantatem. When I'm done with you, Alastor Moody, I will visit Severus and give him a piece of my mind."
A shaggy haired, heavily beard man appeared. It was Alastor, a thinner, wearier Alastor, and he was clutching two brightly wrapped packages. The packages were held in front of him, as though they were shields to protect him from the righteous wrath of one Minerva McGonagall.
"So, you arise from the dead, bearing pressies? Do you think I'll forgive you, Alastor Moody?" protested Minerva.
"No, one is for Nora and the other is for Bryce. Lee thought I should have something for them when I meet them."