Quidditch League | Holyhead Harpies | Captain | R5 dishonesty
A.N. According to Harry-Wiki there is a Healer called Rutherford Poke, who's working at St. Mungos. No age was listed, but for the sake of the story, let's just assume he's around Poppy's age…
Also huge thank you to my lovely Harpies, especially MissyAndTheDocs, theforbiddenforest and gingerdream for inspiring the backstory!
Words: 2754
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a love worth lying for
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15 years ago
Soft beams of sunlight fell through the window and Poppy lazily opened her eyes. It took her a minute to adjust, turning once more on her side and inhaling deeply. The faint scent of their love-making the other night still lingered in the room and, with a heavy sigh, she let her head fall back against the pillow. Frustrated, she let her eyes wander around the room. She spotted her worn lab coat next to the door, followed by her white skirt, which had been carelessly and hastily thrown into the next corner. A couple of feet away, she spotted a pair of trousers and black boxers, right next to her lace bra and panties.
Poppy sighed as the guilt surged through her veins upon staring at the small golden engagement band on her finger.
Their love had started off like a real fairy-tale. Years ago, when Dumbledore had first established the Order of the Phoenix, she had been but a young nurse in training. Her knowledge, however, was enough to patch up most of the Order members whenever they had been injured during one of their missions.
It was, thus, no wonder that, eventually, she grew rather fond of the gruff and grumpy Head Auror: for he was a frequent visitor in the hospital – always beaten up in the worst way imaginable. She tended to his wounds in silence, having heard enough about him to know he wasn't one to pour his heart out to anyone,let alone a stranger. It was therefore quite surprising when he willingly started to share information about how he had endured his injuries. She always listened, and it somewhat calmed him.
Soon enough, after yet another mission that had gone terribly wrong, they found themselves seated next to each other in front of the Headquarters' fireplace, both with a glass of wine in their hands, both watching the dancing flames – each lost in their own thoughts. It was then when he had first kissed her, when he had told her that she was his safe haven, and he had admitted that the thought of losing her frightened him the most. They had been together ever since – secretly, of course, because it was his greatest fear that his enemies would use her against him.
They were happy for a long time, but eventually, the war took its toll on their relationship. She knew that, deep down, Alastor loved her – and she loved him – but he continued to put his work first, arguing that he wanted the world to be a better place for her. He would be gone for months, and the few times when he returned home, he wouldn't talk to her like he used to. He'd built up walls around his soul that not even Poppy could break down and she felt her heart shattering more and more every time he left in the middle of the night without even a goodbye.
It had worsened over the last couple of months and, most nights when she was off from work, the man she loved so dearly was away on yet another of his top secret Auror missions , leaving her scared and lonely in their tiny flat.
In order to distract herself from her worries and heartache, she'd started working more and more night shifts to avoid spending the night in their cold and empty home.
And then, one fateful night, everything changed...
A horrific outburst of dragon-pox had broken loose and, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many potions she brewed or spells she had cast, Poppy had lost more patients than her spirit could stomach. The faint smell of death still lingered in the air when the last body was rolled down to the morgue, and the medi-witch tossed her gloves into the nearest bucket, rushed through the emergency room towards the closest bathroom and barely made it in time to empty the watery contents of her stomach into the sink. Tears streamed down her white and almost ashen face, her whole body trembled, and her heart ached for all those innocent people they had lost tonight. Never in her entire career had she longed for someone – anyone – to just hold her so that her grieve would lessen. Never before had she wished for Alastor to barge in and whisper soothing words of sweet nonsense into her ear. It had been months since she had last seen him, and a defeated and broken sob escaped her before her legs gave out and she slid down the wall; knees bent and her head buried within the crook of her elbows, with tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Eventually, the door to the lavatory opened, and she barely registered a pair of strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her up and steadily leading her towards a room close by.
"It's not your fault," he whispered as he gently guided her. "There was nothing you could have done to heal them."
Poppy shook her head vehemently and, ready to object, she opened her mouth, but only a hitched sound came out as another sob escaped her. Against her better judgement, she leaned against Rutherford and his hold tightened around her waist.
Once the on-call room door closed behind them, Poppy caught a glimpse of her colleague's worried brown eyes, and noticed the way his soft hands tenderly lifted her chin. She felt her head spinning and her breath growing shallow. She couldn't even remember the last time Alastor had touched her like this.
"I know you're in love with him, but I'm here for you," he breathed softly and in her weakened state, Poppy couldn't help but nod in agreement. She noticed that his eyes held her glance for another moment – as if once more asking permission. When she nodded encouragingly, Poppy found herself hastily pressed against the nearest wall, with one of his soft hands carefully brushing through her long blonde hair and his sweet lips on hers.
Of course, she should have known that they wouldn't just stop after a kiss and part of her already knew they would end up in bed together the moment she felt his skin on hers.
Back then, when it first happened, Poppy'd told herself it was a one-time and spur-of-the-moment thing; they had both been filled with adrenaline, which sparked a passion to make them forget the horrible events that had taken place in the ER only minutes earlier, to numb the pain and make them both feel alive again. She had known it was wrong, so very wrong to give into temptation but Merlin, that night of forbidden passion in the on-call room with Rutherford was just what she had longed for. The guilt of it wasn't easy to deal with; Poppy was eager to come to terms with her actions and tell Alastor the truth about her mistake the next day. But, as it turned out, he'd accepted yet another mission and had already left before she got the chance to tell him – once more without even saying goodbye.
Her heart ached, but the guilt lessened, and she felt strangely comforted when, only a week later, Rutherford came into her office late at night, upset and grieving over a young boy he hadn't been able to save. Poppy knew exactly what he felt like - she knew what he needed, and she barely hesitated when she stepped closer towards him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm here for you," she repeated his words, though her voice was nothing more than a soft whisper.
Eventually, what had once started as a one-time-thing, turned into a habit. Poppy always felt like a queen when she was with him, cherished and treasured, passionate and alive, but it wasn't love – for neither of them. They were too alike in that matter. Both broken and damaged by the war, and too caught up in the hospital. Above all, Rutherford's heart still belonged to his late wife, and Poppy would always be in love with Alastor – despite the fact that they hadn't talked, let alone shared the same bed in months.
It was probably the reason why she always ended up here in the first place.
Still, just like now, guilt started to bubble up within her quite often, and with yet another deep breath, Poppy tossed the rumpled sheets away, flipped her long legs over the edge of the bed, and shot the sleeping man next to her one last defeated look before she started gathering her clothes. With a flick of her wand, she was dressed, and with another swish, the last wrinkles in her blouse vanished.
She had just reached the door, when the figure on the bed moved and a mop of blond hair appeared.
"It was - as always - a pleasure," Rutherford mumbled, still half asleep.
Poppy rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't quite ignore the way her heart suddenly ached with pain and guilt.
She couldn't recall how many times she had ended up with Rutherford, and how many times she had tried to tell Alastor about it. But all her attempts had failed miserably and the lack of honesty in their relationship was slowly starting to eat her up. She would always love him, but the war was in full swing now and she realized that it was time for her to finally take the first step and say goodbye – to set him free so he could continue fighting without having her hold him back.
"Alastor proposed this morning," Poppy said in an attempt to sound nonchalant, but her voice broke mid-sentence, and she nervously played with the small golden ring on her finger. "But I don't think I can live like this anymore."
Rutherford raised an eyebrow and his brown eyes looked at her questioningly.
"You're finally gonna tell him the truth about us?"
Poppy shrugged. "Would it make a difference?"
.
June 1996
Poppy looked down at her friend's chart once more, a deep frown on her face. She had seen the shocked faces of the younger nurses when they had spotted the lifeless form of Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress floating on a stretcher straight towards the Emergency Room. Along with two fellow Healers, Poppy had worked on the transfiguration Mistress for hours until the witch's lungs were at least half-way restored. It was touch-and-go most of the time, and considering the results on her chart now, it seemed Minerva was still not completely out of the woods. She looked so pale and fragile, with bandages wrapped around her chest and a tick hospital blanket covering the rest of her frail body. Her emerald eyes were closed, and her ashen face still displayed traces of pain and agony – despite the loads of potions that were running through the witch's system already.
"Madam Pomfrey, there's a man outside waiting for you."
Poppy resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her youngest charge. "Tell him I'm busy."
"I – I already did," the young nurse stuttered nervously. "But he is rather persistent and – "
With an annoyed sigh, the medi-witch put the chart aside – although with a bit more force than probably necessary. "Fine," she said, and gestured for the younger witch to enter. "While I'm gone, you'll stay here with Professor McGonagall. Fetch me immediately if her condition worsens. Understood?"
"Y-yes, Madam Pomfrey. Of course."
Poppy nodded, let her blue eyes wander over her old friend's still body and squeezed her hand once more before she put on her sternest façade that had scared generations of Hogwarts' pupils and staff alike.
Even before the doors fell shut behind her, Poppy's eyes widened when she spotted the form of the old Auror in the waiting area.
"Alastor?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, and her confusion increased when she spotted the blood on his robes. "What are you doing here? And why do you look like this?"
The old Auror grumbled. "I heard about Minerva," he answered, deliberately ignoring her second question.
"It was a close call," Poppy answered shortly and looked him up and down. "We'll have to wait and see if she makes it through the night. But I already informed the Order."
Alastor nodded. "Yeah, I know."
The medi-witch rolled her eyes at him. He looked older than when she had last seen him, but some things apparently never changed.
"Then what in Merlin's name are you doing here, Alastor?" she asked, and despite her best effort, she couldn't quite keep her heart from beating faster.
"What happened to us?" the old Auror wondered, and for a moment, the medi-witch wasn't quite sure what to reply.
"We grew apart, simple," Poppy answered after some time, then shrugged and turned around to head back into Minerva's room.
Alastor, however, took a step forward and gently wrapped his hand around her wrist.
"Look, you gotta give me some answers," he said, almost pleading and, when Poppy turned around, she was stunned by the amount of emotion that was displayed in his blue eyes. "I've been going over this in my head for years and years, and I know I neglected you – and that you deserved better. I get it."
Poppy sighed as images of the past flooded her mind. "Alastor – "
"But when you broke up with me," Moody continued and skilfully ignored her interruptions. "You said you didn't love me."
"For years, I kept thinking about that and eventually I accepted it."
Poppy rolled her eyes. "So why bring it up now, Alastor?"
He threw his hands up in the air, magical eye rotated and he stomped his metal foot hard on the ground. "We're at war, and it's far more dangerous than it was last time. And the only thing that keeps me going is the fact that you're safe and sound at Hogwarts."
"Alastor – "
"No," he argued and gestured towards the hospital room behind them. "I was mistaken to believe that Hogwarts would be secure. We almost lost Minerva tonight. And I realized that it could have easily been you."
Poppy swallowed. She hadn't spoken to the man in years, and now here he was, spilling out his soul to her like he used to do.
"I never stopped loving you," he confessed, and his blue eyes met hers. "and I refuse to believe that you just stopped loving me back then."
The mediwitch took a deep breath, and lowered her head before she sat down on a nearby bench. There was no point denying it now. Back then, she never told him the truth about her affair – she thought it was easier. But she swore to herself that if he ever wanted to know the truth, she would be honest with him.
"I never stopped loving you, Alastor," she admitted, and stared into the distance.
Alastor sat down next to her, eyebrow raised. "Then why did you give me the ring back?" he asked, and Poppy's heart contradicted painfully.
For a moment, she hesitated.
"I had an affair," she finally admitted, but the outburst she had expected from him was missing. She turned her head ever-so-slightly to look at him, but instead of the anger she expected, she saw him nod in agreement.
When he didn't say anything, she continued.
"It didn't mean anything. I was lonely, and scared, and you were hardly there. And when you asked me to marry you… I just couldn't tell you the truth then after being dishonest for such a long time."
Alastor nodded again, but when he looked at her, his forehead wrinkled. "So, you decided to tell me that you didn't love me instead?"
Poppy sighed. "There's never a good way to say goodbye," she said, but to her surprise, she felt him putting his arm around her. "I didn't know what else to say."
They sat in silence for some time, his arm around her waist and her head resting on his shoulder. Eventually, Alastor rustled through his pockets.
"Maybe say yes this time around?" he asked, and held out the small, and elegant diamond ring and Poppy's bright blue eyes widened in surprise.
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