broken butterfly wing

Marlene McKinnon ; 29, they/them

[mvmckinnon-blog]

madalastor:

When Marlene pulls away from him, he has to fight the urge to tug them back down again. Even though it was his idea to move in the first place, the loss of their weight and the feeling of their legs wrapped around him was almost too much to let go. And for a moment he nearly does, his thoughts turning mischievous as they go to pull him up. As much as he’d like to, he does not follow through with this thought, instead allowing them to help him up, reminding himself of the added benefits of being in a more freeing environment. 

Choosing to forgo his staff, he places his other hand firmly on their shoulder for a second as he adjusts his balance between his false leg and his lone working one. The entire process makes him feel far older beyond his fifty years, and he finds himself avoiding their gaze as he does it, fearful that when he looked at them the desire that once pooled in their eyes would be gone, swept away by the reality of what Alastor was now. He was no longer the same man he once was, but instead a broken one, hastily glued back together after he had served his purpose. The sensation of their fingers wrapping around his pulls his attentions back to them though, and when their eyes meet his, still filled with the hunger that dwelled in them before, he finds his worries vanish- at least for the moment. 

Following them back into their bedroom, he eases himself down onto the edge of their bed, watching them intently as they hover in front of him. Once again he’s met with the desire to pull them back on top of him, eager to close the space that still lingered between the two of them, and start where they had left off. But again he stops himself, allowing them to set the pace as they had before. Control had been something Marlene had so little of in their life, always at the will of the cruelties fate had forced upon them. And no matter what happened between them, and for how long it lasted after that afternoon, he thought at least he could give them that. 

A small shiver rushes up his spine at as their hands run over his torso, their touch achingly gentle as their fingertips traced over the hidden history of his life, told through the old battle wounds and stray tattooed creature. He finds himself wanting them to explore more of him, to allow them to pull back the curtain on what he’d tried so hard to hide from everyone else. He wanted them to see more of his own vulnerabilities, to remove the leather straps that held his metal prosthetic in place, and see the red swirling tendrils of his own burn scars that encompassed what little remained of his left leg. But when they step away from him again, and take his hand in their’s, he realizes it wasn’t his turn to share such hidden truths. 

Not yet anyway. 

He wastes no time in the task given to him, his hands removing layer after layer of the fabric that lay between the two of them. He never answers their question vocally, instead choosing to show them through his own actions. When their lips crash back into his, his touch grows more hungry, his hands quickly removing what remained of their robes so that when he pulled them into him, their bare skin was flush was his. 

With all obstacles removed, he pulls his mouth from their’s, planting wet kisses down their throat towards their chest. With his tongue he explores the newly exposed flesh of their breast, licking at one sensitive nub as he takes it in his mouth, while he stimulates the other with his fingertips. When he switches places it’s only then when his free hand moves back down between their legs, resuming the work he’d first started in the kitchen, only this time when he feels them press for more he gives it to them, his fingers slipping between the warm folds of their flesh, to finally give them the pleasure they sought. 

This mercy does not last for long though, when his hunger to taste every inch of them grows beyond the soft skin of their chest. Moving his lips back to their’s, he shows this need through the growing intensity of his kiss as he shifts further back on the bed, pulling them along with him. When they’re fully on top of him he guides one of their hands to his belt buckle, which still remained tortuously fastened. “And do you want me?”, he asks between kisses, his voice raspy from his own arousal. The question almost feels like the finalizing of some kind of agreement between them, as if their approval would seal this bond they both had been testing this entire time. 

This time Marlene is anticipating the spike of anxiety that comes with being exposed to someone like this, but it still takes their breath away to feel him pulling layers of fabric off like flower petals. The closer they come to being entirely naked before him, the more their pulse races and breathing picks up, out of nerves just as much as arousal. There’s a sliver of a moment after they kiss Moody, as he’s pulling the final layer away that they get scared again that this is all about to end. There’s still a part of them even as he pulls them flush against his own body that is sure the repulsion is imminent, that they’re only moments away from being rejected again. They keep their eyes shut against the fear of it, sealing what they’re sure will be the last bit of pleasure away in their memory. In the next moment, however, they come to see that their worries are unfounded.

Suddenly, Alastor’s mouth is on their flesh and the pleasure that comes with it is enough to knock all the air from their lungs with an aroused gasp. His tongue does something to them, and between it and his fingers, Marlene can feel the pleasure mounting more quickly than they expected. For some reason, this feels much more heavy than any other intimate encounter has been for them recently, for a moment as they shiver pleasurably and turn to putty in Moody’s hands they fully believe in his desire and they don’t feel as if it’s all about to end in the next second... They can’t help the slightly loud, unrestrained nature of the moan that comes from them as the intensity builds, as they feel their body tightening beneath his attentions. All at once, they want more from him and they want him to pull back, because what they’re feeling is almost too good, too much right now. They’re afraid, for a moment, that it will all be over too soon, that they’ll be driven over the edge before they’re ready, or that the pleasure will all suddenly fall away as it sometimes does when they find themselves overstimulated.

The almost electric sensation on their skin must be palpable with how intensely Marlene feels it, crackles over their skin as the auror drags his mouth away again and leaves a trail of wetness exposed to the air. They can’t help but shiver under his touch as he pulls them along with him onto the bed, puts their body on display over his in a way that feels a thousand times more vulnerable than it had in the other room. The way his lips move against theirs beckons them still, makes Marlene want to eliminate the small amount of space that remains between them, and yet part of them is still so apprehensive. They can’t hide the fact now that they may be more scar than flesh, and the way it twists through the very core of them makes the feeling impossible to remove from this moment even though the pleasure is settling over them nicely, backing down from the too-intense waves that had threatened for a moment to overwhelm them.

Their eyes as they gaze into Alastor’s are almost painfully clear in their vulnerability, so much so that it’s easy to see the change come over them at his question. Any doubt they might have had falls away, if only because they’re confident enough in their own answer to forget their other concerns for the moment. He asks if they want him and their response is immediately obvious in their gaze, faster than they can physically react. Their pupils are so large and dark in the dim light that for a moment they threaten to swallow him entirely, but before they can lose themself to it, they remind themself to take action again, to show him just what they want. They mirror him again in that they don’t verbally respond to his question, they simply demonstrate their desire by setting to the task again, their fingers nimbly opening the clasp of his belt and then the front of his trousers. 

Marlene’s lips capture his intimately as they slip their hand inside for a moment. The soft skin of their palm meets his equally sensitive flesh, not exactly soft anymore... and his response to their touch intensifies that. They stroke over his length a few times, gripping playfully as their tongue flickers over his lips, helping the arousal build in him just as intensely as it had built in them. The teasing can only last so long though, and soon Marlene releases him in order to more fully divest him of the rest of his clothing. From their position hovering over him it’s easy to maneuver his trousers and undergarments off completely, and then suddenly Moody’s vulnerabilities are just as exposed as theirs...

It takes their breath away for a moment, to see the extent of the damage firsthand. They pause, not because they feel the need to hesitate, but because it takes a moment for the grief to wash over them again. They feel a swell of emotion building in the pit of their stomach, tangled in with all the arousal that’s still there, and at the end of it Marlene thinks it means they care about him far more than they should, more than should be possible given their limited interaction with each other over the years. When their gaze finally returns to his, it isn’t with pity that they look at him, but sympathy. Suddenly it feels a lot like they’re the only two people in the world that could possibly understand each other.

Marlene’s hand falls gently onto his thigh, where the prosthetic is held in place. It feels dangerous somehow to pursue this kind of affection, like the emotional intimacy more than anything else is what might make him pull away. But they don’t want to pull back from danger anymore. Much like the rest of this moment, this feels like an agreement, not only to fight together but to let themself be open to that vulnerability again. Their fingers trace carefully over the edge of the scarring, their palm closing softly over it as if they could heal with their touch alone. They wanted so much to erase Alastor’s pain, just as they’d been trying to erase their own all these years, so much that it feels only natural to lean down and follow up their touch with a careful brush of their lips. They kiss their way up his thigh that way, almost tortuously slow, their fingers trailing over the skin of his stomach and his opposite hip, tracing patterns that tease at their ultimate intention as their mouth moves along its path.

They only pause again for a moment before closing their mouth over his hardness, just long enough to capture his gaze again, to lay bare the depth of their desire for him, and for the complicated intimacy that already tangled them together inextricably. They wanted him to feel the intensity they felt, the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm them. As they swallowed around his length they let their hands trail up over his stomach and up his chest, over the scars again reverently, they let themselves explore every inch of his skin exposed before them. Their eyes greedily took in every detail they could, settling ultimately on his face to watch his reactions. But Marlene’s desire was still for more, still for something else they hadn’t gotten to yet. And now that they’d focused on his pleasure for a moment, they found the arousal settling over their body again in a more manageable way, finding the sweet spot of sensation between not feeling enough and being overwhelmed. After a few minutes of moving their mouth on him, the urge for something more takes over them once more.

They pull away and crawl back up Alastor’s body, dragging their flesh against his suggestively, their hand smoothing over his chest and pressing him back gently. They waste no time in playing at what they want now, instead slipping back into the position they’d been in earlier with their thighs draped over his. This time, though, is much different from before... their bodies are already slick and hot against each other, both so clearly ready to take this further. And there’s a part of Marlene that wants to take him now, that wants to press those few extra inches forward. But the play of control is just as addicting as the rest of this experience, and while Moody has let them have control for this long, they find themself wanting to surrender it to him again. It’s been too long since they trusted someone with this moment, and yet now it feels so easy, to put it into his hands again although they still feel as fragile as glass in his arms.

“Alastor...” Their voice is barely above a whisper, but it doesn’t need to be anything more than that with how close they are. Marlene’s hand cups his face and their lips press against his, half kissing even as they continue speaking. “Take me... please. I want you so much...”

[mvmckinnon-blog]

tmtonks:

Maybe ten years ago their assurances would’ve sounded a lot more convincing, but so much had changed, and they found it impossible to give a show of all of that just now especially talking to Marlene, who understood how much they had changed and why perhaps better than most people. They wished that they still believed that all endings were happy, as well as all beginnings and middles, but they knew better than that now. Now, they knew better than ever that not every fortune was good, that sometimes it wasn’t going to be what you wanted to hear. Still, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a chance. And they hadn’t been lying when they had said those words to them, even if they were hard to believe, even if they didn’t have quite the earnestness behind them that they might’ve ten years ago.

It meant the world to them that Marlene was here now, taking their hand, offering them a friendship they thought they didn’t deserve any longer, despite the risk of pain, the risk of them messing things up again. And they wanted to give them the same. The nickname that slipped from their lips just made Ted even more certain that this had been the right choice, even if it was a hard one to face. “Thank you, Marls, I will, I promise. And I’m here for you, too. I mean it. I’m done hiding from everything just because I’m afraid to face what I’ve done. It’s time to move forward,” they said, voice perhaps a little more solemn than they meant it to come out. But they meant what they said, just as what Marlene had said meant the world to them. Between what they were saying, offering them now, and what Alice had given them, what their tea said, they were starting to feel like maybe having a bit of hope was alright. Maybe things could change, could move forward despite all of the darkness they had all be though in the past. Still, they knew that to do that, they were going to need to finish off the task that was in front of them. They couldn’t truly let go until the last tangible piece of the puzzle was taken care of, and that was going to be sooner rather than later if they had their way.

There were a dozen other things that they could’ve focused on besides Crouch, a dozen other excuses they could have given to continue living in the past, staying bitter and angry at what had happened, and they knew it would be a tempting thing to do just that, even once Crouch was out of the picture. If Alice hadn’t given them so much, if she hadn’t started the little spark, the desire to start thinking ahead instead of behind, then Ted was certain they would have done just that. But now? Now they weren’t so sure. There were some things about themself that they couldn’t change now. Azkaban had done too much, being abandoned by the mother of their child had done too much, but maybe it was possible to let go of some of that hatred, if they let themself be helped. The real problem was that they weren’t certain Lily would allow that to happen. Their job didn’t stop with Crouch, it wasn’t over as soon as their own personal revenge was extracted. But that wasn’t a thought for now.

For now, they would allow themself to live in the moment, to have that tiny bit of hope. And to give some of that to Marlene, if they could. It didn’t feel fair that they were here finally thinking that they might be capable of even an ounce of the love they had been before, when Marlene was hurting so badly still, when they were facing a cup of tea that seemed so grim it was hard not to look at all of the bad omens instead of what it could mean. They could understand their dismissal of the interpretation they offered. Hell, they were pretty certain if that had been what their cup had shown them, they would have had the same response. It was all too fair to have that reaction, after so many years of having those memories brought back to life over and over again, constant reminders. It was no wonder it felt impossible to move forward, when this was what they were greeted with.

Marlene’s apology was unnecessary, though. There wasn’t much that got to them the same way as it would have ten years ago, and certainly not this. Perhaps they got angrier more easily now, perhaps they moved between complete detachment and over-emotionality at alarming rates, but this was founded, for once they could see someone else’s side of things, and they understood. They just wished they could offer Marlene some of the peace they were striving for themself. But it had been so long since they had genuinely given such care that it was hard now. All they could do was take their hand in theirs, and give it a comforting squeeze.

“No need for apologies, you know I understand. But you know it’s true. Nothing is ever certain with readings. Sybill would say the same thing to you. And eve if it was a bad omen, they would also remind you that the future isn’t set in stone, and that it’s up to us to change a path if we don’t like what we see. And I’ll be here to help you do that, okay?” Ted said. It was a big promise, one they weren’t sure they could keep. But they wanted to try, and that was more than they had wanted in years. “And listen, if I took my own advice, my life wouldn’t be the mess it is today. If you learn how to take your own advice, let me in on your secret, because I could use it too.”

“Y-You’re right... I know you’re right, I have to stop doing this to myself...” they agreed as Ted explained, as they mentioned Sybill’s view on things too. It seemed so strange, and yet a bit like destiny too, that they should both know the seer so well and trust their judgement... perhaps it was one of the many ways the universe was trying to lead them back together, although Marlene still wasn’t sure if it was for good or ill. “I’ve been so afraid all this time... so afraid to try and change anything that I can’t even live in the real world anymore... I’ve just been shut up in here, you know since...” They trailed off, clearing their throat slightly at the sudden pressure of tears welling up, and didn’t elaborate any further. They actually weren’t sure how much Ted knew or remembered about the fire... it hadn’t even been a month since the attack of Alice and Frank... and it would only be another two at best before they’d taken justice into their own hands and strangled Bellatrix for the crime. Marlene wouldn’t blame them if their memory of everything else was a little hazy...

“I’m sure Sybill would agree, I have to put positive energy out into the universe to expect any back...” they said instead of reminiscing on any of the unpleasantness that ran through their head. “I think I am ready to try... with a little help I think I’ll be okay I’m just... so terrified to face any of it alone... I wish I wasn’t still so scared after all this time, but I am...” They trailed off for a moment, their gaze unfocusing in favor of staring straight through the wall, off into the void again. This time they drifted back into their body again naturally, and more quickly than usual, and they couldn’t help but feel... warmer, stronger... some semblance of the comfort they’d been seeking for years. 

“I’m so glad to have your support... It means so much that’d you’d even want to... that you’d even think of me in the middle of all this craziness... So thank you... I know it wasn’t what either of us were expecting today but I’m glad you came to see me.” They smiled faintly, not quite enough to truly show their appreciation, but more genuinely than they had in years.

But it was hard to know where to go from there... All things considered, their first conversation with each other after so many years had gone surprisingly well, the unpleasantness that had come up was relatively mild at least... And it felt good to be in Ted’s company again when they’d been in need of companionship for so long, when they’d been aching for something just like this, a friend that could understand what they’d been through, who saw that they’d been fundamentally changed by that awful night, and that it wasn’t so easy to go back to who they’d been before all of this began. Marlene didn’t want to drive them away again when they’d just come back into their life. But there was still a difficult conversation they hadn’t had yet, and as important as it felt, there was a part of Marlene that was hesitant to bring it up. They didn’t want to shatter the near perfect calm of their friendly chemistry, the gentle ebb and flow of comfort and reassurance that had been passing between them as easily as it had ten years ago.

Still, they reminded themself, they were being open with each other... it felt wrong somehow to conceal anything from Ted, even if it was in the interests of keeping the peace between them. More than that though, Marlene was also concerned with upsetting them. Their reaction was impossible to predict now, and they weren’t certain they were ready to see how this new version of Ted reacted when they were angry. They certainly didn’t want to hurt them, not when they’d already been through so much more than their fair share of heartache. They were quiet for several long moments, clearly working over the problem in their own mind, choosing their words carefully.

“I’m worried about you,” they settled on finally, their grip on Ted’s hand loose so as to offer but not force affection. Marlene hoped it would help them feel their concern in a real, grounding way... a way that brought them back to their senses. “It’s all well and good to say that the past is behind us... but you know that I know it isn’t so easy to let go of... And now you’ve got something from the past right in front of you, like a test... So, what are you going to do, Teddy? ...I’m not sure I know what I would do, either... but I just need to know you’re going to be okay, whatever happens... I want you to feel like you’ve made the right decision... for the right reasons...”

[mvmckinnon-blog]

regulusblac-k:

     ‘Were,’ he corrected them on instinct – he wasn’t close to anyone, anymore, not after ten years of living like a caged animal, slowly losing everyone he’d ever been close to and unable to be there to see it. He was barely even close to Marlene, had done his best all these years to keep his distance. There were parts of himself he knew Marlene would never understand, never be able to accept, and he had done all he could to hide them. 

If he hadn’t been, there would have been more he could have said, about that. We joined up, together, would have been the first among them, his strongest memory of Barty, the way Barty had clung to him, in the months leading up to his leaving Hogwarts, desperate for news of the Death Eaters, the second hand things he heard from Bellatrix over family dinners and in the extensive letters she sent him. They hadn’t been close, before that, orbiting around one another in some strange way, but news of the Dark Lord had brought them closer, and he still remembered the day they both took the Mark.

But he wouldn’t say any of that, to Marlene. In a way, he felt he owed it to them to pretend he hadn’t been a part of the very group they had spent their post-Hogwarts years fighting against. He had turned his back on the Dark Lord, that was all Marlene knew, and all Marlene needed to know. Any more than that, and he was fairly certain even they – as far as one could get from Lily Evans’ sick brand of so-called justice – would have put him out on the street and called the Aurors to collect him in chains. 

There was a part of him, too, that wanted to hear about Sirius, something like tearing off a scab or pressing your fingers into a deep and aching bruise just to watch how many colors it could turn. How were they doing? What were they doing? Were they anything now like the person Regulus had grown up with, had admired, had relied on? Were they anything like the person who had betrayed him, abandoned him, chosen another family over him?

Or were they something else, altogether, the way he was. A hollowed out thing, scraped empty and raw. 

He felt sick, just thinking about it, and the food in front of him, Marlene’s leg pressed against his own – these small things, meant to be comforts – only made it worse. He held the plate in his hands, looking down at it for a minute while he considered their words, considered where to navigate this conversation from here that didn’t tangle him in unwanted feelings, unfinished business. 

     ‘I need to ask a favor, of you,’ he said, instead. There was no good time to ask them this, so he might as well do it when they were already having a conversation bound to upset the both of them. ‘I know I’ve already asked a lot, but I think it’ll help things.’

Marlene was always taken aback, somehow, by Regulus’ blunt and often harsh tone, no matter how many times they heard it. They supposed, although they had no evidence to support the idea, that it was their differences in upbringing that made them so obviously opposed in so many ways... He was hard in all the same ways they were too soft, he rejected the very comforts they had always relied on from their family and from others... They didn’t know how to imagine his parents, but they couldn’t picture them as the kind and loving type that their own had been, especially not after Sirius’ account of things. And they couldn’t help but wonder how different Regulus would be if he’d escaped them like his sibling had, or if he’d been treated with a little more softness when he was young. Marlene tried their best to live as their own parents had taught them, but what good was it now, when faced with someone who rejected all the love and care they tried to give him?

But, that wasn’t entirely true either... just because he didn’t return their careful touches and their open sympathy didn’t mean he didn’t want or need to be looked after... He’d stayed this long, after all... there had to be something he was getting out of all this besides the security... But then again, perhaps he stayed simply because he truly had nowhere else to go... Marlene couldn’t pretend to know his true intentions or feelings, and it was clear that he withheld them on purpose. Whatever was in his head, it wasn’t something he wanted them to know. And it hurt, in a way, that after all this time there was still something in them that he didn’t trust... that he’d rather sit there in silence burying any apparent emotional reaction to what they said, even when it was about people he cared about, or had, once upon a time...

The weight in the pit of their stomach solidified and dropped as they sat there and watched him not eating. The energy between them had always been... nervous at best, but this was something else... There were needles in the air, electric and with a slightly charred smell... It reminded Marlene of missions with the Order at night, when the only sign they had of any action taking place was that same smell and the faint glow of spells cutting through the darkness. It was the distinct ambiance of discomfort and worry, they had felt it often enough to know for certain. What they weren’t sure of was whose discomfort they were feeling, although looking at Regulus for another long moment, they managed to piece it together. They got up abruptly and then, as if looking for an excuse, they crossed back to the kitchen to retrieve their coffee which they’d left on the counter. When they returned, they sat in the chair nearby rather than next to him on the couch, and sat their untouched plate in their lap. Taking a deep drink, they watched him for a moment, to see if some kind of release of tension occurred, to see if they really were the problem here... and then they finally ate some of their breakfast, as nonchalantly as possible, although they didn’t feel hungry anymore in the slightest.

Their stomach flopped at his question, unsettling the food they had just swallowed and making them regret ever making it, ever putting it on a plate for Regulus to not eat, and for them to gag over at the slightest provocation. They managed to finish chewing without incident, but that particular bite went down hard, and they had to chase it down with another swig of coffee before answering. And perhaps they needed that time as well, to consider his question, and the potential consequences of what helping him would mean... They could tell he wanted out, that he wanted to be free of this place just as he had for all the years he’d been captive here, but Marlene couldn’t bring themself to ask if that was what he wanted their help with... How could they, when it would mean giving up everything they had lived for, for the past ten years?

“Of course,” they said instead, keeping their voice quiet in the hopes that he wouldn’t hear how it wavered. “I want to do anything I can to help you, Regulus... What do you need?” They were almost frightened to hear the answer, couldn’t quite chase their pulse back down to a normal level now that the proverbial axe seemed about to fall...

[mvmckinnon-blog]

sybtrelawney:

Sybill felt the familiar pang of helplessness as they listened to Marlene’s answer. Now matter how much effort they put in fighting for a better future, wrestling it out inch by inch from the universe’s grasp daily, there was nothing they could do to make Marlene’s pain go away forever. They could not guard their dreams and their mind from wandering off into the dark, scary places. They couldn’t wipe away years, soon decades of guilt and sorrow. They knew from their own experience that there was no magic, no potion that could heal your heart. But again a shifty, small voice whispered in their mind, Oh, but you are so lucky, aren’t you? And sure enough, what Sybill really knew about healing this kind of grief? Their family hadn’t died tragically, after all. Grandma Dione had passed away in her favourite armchair a couple of years before the end of the war. Mother had said she had been found smiling, sitting right opposite Cassandra Trelawney’s portrait. Sybill’s mother, on the other hand, was alive and well, living now in a little town in Wales and terrorising the local arts and crafts shop. Every now and then she would send Sybill a knitted scarf or a sweater in very practical colours, and she always called them on Sundays. Sybill didn’t even want to think of the day when their gift would reveal to them their mother’s death. What words of comfort they could offer Marlene, then?

There was Hellen, of course. Radiant, pragmatic, beautiful Hellen. Though the wound she’d left in Sybill’s heart had been long healed, Sybill found their thoughts returning to her, catching them off-guard. Fortunately, more often than not they were reminded of the happy days, right before the war, when it had still seemed that they could live this way forever—enjoying the little things together, waking up to each other’s smiles, finding comfort at the end of the day in kisses and hugs. But sometimes, usually when Sybill lingered in that space between full consciousness and visions, they remembered the weight of Hellen’s half-dead body as they’d carried her to their cottage, the deafening silence, all that blood. It came to them in flashes, like a swift punch to the gut, just when they thought the fight was over. But they’d learned how to talk themself out of that. They couldn’t live in the past. They could live with a ghost—a figurative one, thank Morgana for that—but they couldn’t live in their memories. To do that would be to reject their gift, and that was unthinkable.

Marlene’s tears sobered them. Perhaps Sybill couldn’t heal their mind with one tea or even a reading, but they could be there for them when they needed it. They set down their cup on the small table nearby and moved to Marlene’s side to embrace them with one arm, placing their other hand on their side of their head. “I know it’s difficult, I know,” Sybill murmured after a moment. “But, look, that person isn’t dead and I’m sure they’re not going to die anytime soon. I am sure.” Their tone was confident in this assertion, though Sybill couldn’t find it in themself to fully believe it. They’d seen too many visions of death, they were seeing too many visions of death even now, regularly. Not to mention their prophecy and all the killings it foretold. But it wasn’t the right time and place to talk about that. Sybill’s mission would not suffer if they’d failed to even hint at it for a moment, and, anyway, what they were dealing with here now was a struggle of a completely different kind.

“I understand you’re afraid of another heartbreak,” they said carefully, smoothing down Marlene’s hair. “You’re afraid to lose more loved ones, it’s natural, and your mind seems to be telling you just that. The times we’re living in…” they hesitated. They couldn’t bring themself to wax poetic about the world, not with the executions and the manhunts, and the general sense of something sinister hanging in the air. Finally, they settled on, “We’re on the verge of change. It doesn’t necessary have to bring more sorrow or danger, or grief. It can be a good change, but we have to work for it. We can still turn the world into a good place, and the future can still hold love and happiness for you, but this won’t happen if we don’t act.” 

They paused again, wondering how much they were allowed to say. They did not want to push Marlene; certainly, they did not want to offend them, either. But a treacherous yet persuasive thought had been blooming in their mind already. “Perhaps your dreams are so severe because your mind has tired of stillness. Perhaps it is urging you to move forward in the only way it knows how to reach you, and that’s through your emotions.”

The worst part of it all was easily their all-encompassing physical reaction to the grief. It was one they tried to suppress every time, and usually to no avail- the visible weakness, the crying... Marlene wished they could rid themself of it all, could harden themself into another form that was stronger, like coal was compressed to form diamond over time. It had been nearly ten years of grief pressing down on them… If some change hadn’t happened by now, would it ever happen? Or were they just doomed to be this pathetic, burnt out shell of the wix they once were? For the first time in a long time, Sybill’s embrace did little to soothe the despair they felt piercing them like a blade down to their very soul. In fact, the pain seemed to compound somehow, at the softness of their words and their touch. They felt for a moment that their shoulder had inadvertently pushed the blade further in, had touched something deep, deep inside them that couldn’t possibly believe in what they were saying. He would die, sooner or later, and that was a reality Marlene would have to face when the time came… they just couldn’t shake off the anticipatory feeling of sooner… And beyond their own fears and anxious worries, it made sense logically- he was as close to the danger as he could be, in the middle of the lion’s den so to speak. How could they ever convince themself that he would be safe there, that death wasn’t waiting around every corner, at the end of every corridor of the Ministry?

As much as there was a part of them that wanted to push Sybill away, to reject the platitudes and the optimism, they couldn’t bring themself to do so physically. They’d never been so cruel before as to withdraw their physical affection, even when they weren’t feeling comfortable with it, and besides that, it wasn’t the seer’s fault that their answers hadn’t been to Marlene’s satisfaction. But the wix did tense up in their seat at the contact, didn’t return the embrace as they once might have, instead gripping their teacup with a too-firm grip that turned their translucent fingertips white. They wanted to say, “you don’t understand”, but that seemed too cruel, somehow. They had been the one to come seeking answers after all, it seemed wrong to entirely reject what they had to say, even if their comforts came more from a place of kind sympathy than it did knowledge of what was to come. Instead, they just shook their head slightly, holding their tongue specifically so they wouldn’t distract themself from the rest of what their friend was saying. They glanced down once or twice at their tea, and the blue surface reflected their own face back at them, half cast in gloomy shadows in a way that made them truly resemble of figure half-charred and hollowed out. They couldn’t help but feel that way, even in the moments they made themself look back up into Sybill’s eyes as they spoke.

By the time the seer finished what they were saying, Marlene’s tears had subsided, but the pain was still firmly in place, still obviously stitched into their features and weighing down on every inch of their body. The difference now was that they were less frenzied, their anxiety had exhausted them and now they looked even more tired than they had when they’d entered the shop. They felt the sharpness of their grief down to their bones, although all things considered the edge of it should have dulled at least slightly over the years. It all seemed so hopeless, even with Sybill’s words of encouragement… after all, how could they convince themself they’d survive another fire when the first one had already left them in this state, as something less than alive?

“…Obviously I don’t know exactly what it’s like to have a vision,” they prefaced with an odd half-hoarse quality to their voice. “But this felt so real Sybill, I don’t know how else to explain it… I felt… like I could reach out and touch the hole in his face…” Here, one of their hands lifted subconsciously off the teacup and touched their left cheekbone, just below the eye, where they had seen the gruesome, disfiguring wound materialize on Moody’s face. “I could smell the blood…” Their hand shook imperceptibly as they lowered it back down to their lap, as their gaze steadily unfocused from any real object in the room, lingering instead on their horrible visions from the previous night. It was hard not to succumb to the fear again or give over to that same wave of sadness that had overwhelmed them previously, but Sybill’s words had made them start to think differently, despite their resistance, despite how the physical comfort had felt hollow this time. It was just that they already cared so much for him despite the short time that had passed- their connection had been more… intense than they’d anticipated, had obviously meant more than either of them had intended it to… And now it seemed so fragile… it felt almost like they had already lost him… But at the same time, the sentiments Sybill expressed weren’t very different from what Moody himself had approached them with… If Marlene didn’t listen when the people in their life were asking them to act, maybe they deserved the misery that was coming to them… maybe they were inviting all this despair into their life by refusing to fight for something better…

“But you’re right… I know you’re right…” they continued eventually, their gaze trailing aimlessly towards the window, not really focusing on any of the figures that passed by. “The only way I can stop that from happening is to make something else happen, isn’t it? To stop being such a coward and do something… But what do I do Sybill? What can I do? To protect those I love?” They finally tore their gaze away from the nothingness they were staring into and looked back to them, searching their deep, dark eyes for answers they weren’t sure the seer could provide.

[dream-house-inspiration]

[pinkhorrorshow]

[mvmckinnon-blog]

atticusrookwood:

“Marlene, it wasn’t selfish,” Atticus said with a sigh. It was probably pointless to try to tell them that that was genuinely the case, that they had every right to try to seek someone out, to want to share the load with someone else, but he had to try anyway. It was only fair that he could offer them even that small thing if he wasn’t going to be able to be the one to be selfless for them. What Marlene had done for him and offered to do for him was more than half the people he had met in the past few months, and it wasn’t fair to just try to cut that off completely without any acknowledgement of what they had done to help him. Because there they were, even after he tried to disappear from their life, writing to make sure he was okay, to make sure he knew that if he needed someone to commiserate with, they were there still, even after the way he had acted or not acted. He could see clearly on their face the dozens of emotions they were going through, and he wished he could help, but he didn’t feel strong enough to know what to do.

“You deserve to have someone that you can come to, you shouldn’t have to apologize for being vulnerable. I never learned how to deal with any of that, though. I’m selfish for not being able to help you. There are just some things that have been so engrained in me since I was a kid that are still so hard not to do. And I know that I need to do better, but there’s just only so much I can do at once, you know?” he said, teeth gritted, not in anger at Marlene, but at his own situation. “I’m only one person and I feel like I’m here somehow having to proof for all purebloods that they should give us a chance to be better than our parents; it feels like it’s not just my life that I’m controlling. And I’m only one person.”

He paused, realizing as he had said the words that that was this all came down to, all of the stress that he had been feeling, the worries he had had not just for his own life, but what a mistake could mean for so many other people. He was an example in the making, and if he failed, there were more people in danger than just himself. The pressure was stifling in a way that even his mother’s constant, watchful gaze. Maybe because this time failing meant a lot more than just disappointing his parents. 

When he spoke again his voice was quieter, a little far off, clear that he was thinking about what he had accidentally just made clear to himself.

“I’m only one person.”

There was definitely some miscommunication happening here, and the problem was that Marlene wasn’t sure just how far it went. There was still the question of this earlier conversation that Atticus seemed to remember having with them that Marlene had absolutely no recollection of... but it was hardly his problem if they’d been getting so drunk lately that they couldn’t even keep their encounters straight... It was just more of the same escapism that had driven him away in the first place... and bringing that up now certainly wasn’t going to do either of them any favors. The larger frustration at the moment was that Atticus seemed to be misinterpreting their offer as some kind of demand for reciprocation when it was nothing of the sort. But they could hardly blame him for that... he had a lot on his plate recently, which had been the whole point of their offer in the first place. After all, he’d been one of the first people Marlene had thought of upon hearing the news, even in the slurred drunken state they’d been in at the time.

Maybe that was part of the whole problem- they kept letting themself reach out to him when they were not exactly in a fit state to do so, and then they wondered why they weren’t being properly understood... why he would be confused about their intentions, when they did nothing but jump from one extreme to another... This wasn’t fair to either of them, but more than their own pain this time Marlene felt the guilt weighing down on them at having let it get so bad... While they’d been fooling around with Atticus, they’d somehow let themself shift into a form they didn’t like very much- one that was utterly dependent in their vulnerability, whose grief demanded too much attention. They hadn’t seen it before it was all too late, but it was honestly what they’d always feared they’d become since the fire. They felt that sorrow down to their bones like a bruise.

Sighing softly, Marlene slid into a barstool beside him without being invited, perched on the edge of the seat so as to make a quick escape if it became clear they weren’t welcome there. They just felt so tired suddenly, and the pain was beginning to get to them, the spike of anxiety that they couldn’t quite chase down making them feel on edge, pulling all of their muscles taut to attention. But they didn’t say anything about that, determined as they were to focus on Atticus for now and sort out their own problems later... They put a soft hand on his shoulder as his mind processed this new realization, much different from their usual touch which they supposed was too heavy for him... this was a light, encouraging thing, with a touch of comfort but also a calmness Marlene didn’t exactly feel, themself... It was a fleeting thing, just a small press of their warm hand, and then it was gone again and they put their hands in their lap.

“And I’m not trying to put any extra burden on you,” they elaborated, trying to make him see their offer for what it was- a resource if he ever came to need it, and specifically not something he should worry about. “I know you’re under an enormous amount of pressure, and that’s not fair at all, Atticus. It shouldn’t all be on you. I know there’s not a lot I can do, I’m not in the same position as you... I can’t help you fight that battle... I’ve never been much of a fighter, anyway... But I do want to help... you know there’s more I can do for you than provide an escape.” He’d been to their flat, after all, and would have crossed through the shop below to get there. He knew about their capabilities, and they hoped he’d come to trust them at least in some small way. 

“I think I’ve learned by now not to expect things from you that you can’t provide, and honestly I’ll be fine on my own, I’ve taken care of myself for this long haven’t I? ...Anyway, what I’m saying is... you don’t have to act on this now. I’m not asking you to let me help right this second... I’m saying if you ever need me, you know where to find me, okay? And that I can put my own shit aside if it means helping you... I know that must be hard to believe but... I just want to to know you have somewhere to go if you need it. You have someone else who gives a shit about what you’re going through so just... don’t hesitate to ask me if you need something... That’s all.”

Marlene realized they should have gotten up them and left him in peace, but there was something about this situation that reminded them so much of when they’d met that they found it hard to leave. Still, they were prepared to do so if it became clear that they were just making him uncomfortable with their continued presence.

[thecolorblockcurator]

The Dream, Frida Kahlo

[dream-house-inspiration]

[mvmckinnon-blog]

SCARS

As a result of their severe burns from the fire, Marlene is scarred over about sixty percent of their body, roughly from the waist down. This includes their forearms, both legs up to the thigh, and their lower midsection including the stomach, pelvis, groin, and back. The injuries are consistent with Marlene getting up and walking through the house while it burned around them, although they have no recollection of doing so.

The consistency of these scars depends on a number of factors, but primarily the severity of the initial wounds- the most intense scarring covers their hands, their abdomen and pelvic area from about the belly button down, and the lower halves of their legs including their feet. Consequently, these are the most problematic areas for Marlene in terms of their health and comfort. Their ability to feel physical sensation can suddenly fluctuate to either extreme, especially when the scars become inflamed or otherwise irritated. This of course leads to further complications such as chronic pain, and problems with sexual intimacy, as well as various emotional and psychological issues.

The scars have a metallic appearance to them in certain lights, generally appearing either silvery in cool light (like moonlight & wandlight) or golden in warm light (such as candlelight & sunlight). This characteristic is the signature of the healing magic used by Firuzeh Hashemi, the mediwix that saved Marlene’s life. However, the tissue also changes color and texture when irritated or otherwise stimulated- the color fluctuates from a deep purple which is generally cool and smooth, to an angry, inflamed red.

Due to the considerable damage to their hands and feet, Marlene often wears protective gloves and shoes, especially while they work. The gloves vary in thickness and material, but they prefer a light, form-fitting style, cut to the mid-knuckle for dexterity. However, their shoes must be custom made for them with a specific design; they must be worn slightly loose, with cushioning to prevent damage to their thin and sensitive skin. They can’t wear anything too structured or tight such as heels or boots because their feet in particular are susceptible to easy bruising and bleeding. They have a special pair of house slippers for home and the shop enchanted to stay warm and dry, and to help them walk more steadily, as well as a similarly charmed pair for outdoors. Marlene rarely walks barefoot anymore, preferring long, thick socks in the very least for basic protection- but on the rare occasion that they do, they walk with an obviously affected gait, not entirely stable on either leg without some magical assistance. 

In order to relieve the chronic pain brought on by their injuries, Marlene has several methods that they’ve come to rely on over the years. First and foremost, there’s the marijuana they grow in the greenhouse alongside their herbs for potion-making. It’s the result of ten years of reseeding and hybridization of a plant originally given to them by Mundungus Fletcher in early 1982, with strong body-high characteristics and euphoria. They also mix their own custom potions, and often include one or more basic ingredients for pain relief in any blend they make for themself. These have proven to be effective short-term methods, but Marlene’s preferred treatment is their bath, which they’ve spent a lot of time and energy designing to fit their needs. Heavily enchanted, the claw-foot bathtub can expand in size without getting heavier, create gentle massaging jets and streams of bubbles, and even maintain the temperature of the water it is filled with. Paired with various aesthetic charms cast on the room itself, and the unique tinctures and fragrant blends they add to the bath water, it is easily the most immersive and relaxing room in the flat.

TATTOOS

 tattoos listed chronologically in the order that Marlene received them...

left shoulder: from bottom of left scapula upward, spilling over shoulder just above collarbone ; a moving butterfly tattoo done by Sirius Black during the war. The color and number of butterflies changes, and they move depending on Marlene’s mood... as such, the image has been a stationary black and grey piece for a number of years, with only the most intense emotions still registering some kind of reaction. During their time with the Order, this tattoo was always flourishing with color, usually reds, oranges, golds, & greens.

right ribcage: from top of right hip to mid-breast, partially distorted by scar tissue ; a full color, enchanted depiction of Morgan le Fay, who takes a variety of different forms, most notably an enchantress, a hag, a fairy, and a raven. The wix stands at the edge of a forest, which for a time after the fire was depicted as shriveled and dead, but has recently begun to spring new growth from the ashes.

left hand: wrapped around left wrist and hand in the style of a bracelet, while stationary ; a moving, banded, black line snake handpoked by Mundungus Fletcher, which has the capability to move where it pleases along Marlene’s left arm. It coils around their fingers and flicks its tongue when the wix comes across people of questionable character, which seems more and more often these days... The serpent fled to higher ground during the fire, making it look much more recent now than it truly is, as the image is not distorted in any way.

upper left arm: on the inner side of the left bicep ; a criosphinx skull with two sets of eyes, and two wands crossed beneath it. A memorial tattoo to honor Gideon and Fabian Prewett, who Marlene was particularly close to during the war before their deaths. The criosphinx represents illusion and mystery, which helps strengthen some of their spellwork in those disciplines. It also offers additional protection- sometimes an eerie, skin crawling feeling comes from the piece when they are being watched. The wands resemble those of the twins, and sometimes produce sparks or flowers.

various locations: (1) just inside the hairline halfway between the crown and the third eye, (2) one on each temple, (2) at the base of their neck at the head just below the hairline, (1) beneath their chin on the underside of their jaw, (2) one on each wrist over the pulse point, (2) on their sternum just below the jugular notch, & (1) in the center of their torso over the xiphoid process ; a total of (11) small black x’s handpoked by Marlene. Each one represents a member of their family lost in the fire, and their locations have certain associations and purposes which are secret to anyone but Marlene themself. For the most part though, they are reminders- to breathe, to think, to trust their instincts... These were their first tattoos to be done after the fire.

both feet: on the underside of the right and left foot ; an intricate “fireproof” sigil (which resembles a pair of ornate x’s) done entirely in black lines, handpoked by Marlene over the scar tissue. These are intended to protect their feet from the elements- both extreme heat and cold, which they are particularly sensitive to now, and also to relieve some of the pain they experience from standing or walking. While it helps, it does little to strengthen their legs or help them walk steadily- they rely mostly on other charms for that.

lips: bisecting the upper and lower lip in the center ; a vertical black line handpoked by Marlene. This simple design is intended to help them keep secrets, although it has yet to stand up to the test of a powerful potion like Veritaserum...

left ribcage: from just below left armpit extending forward to cup left breast ; a branch of lilac flowers which moves gently as if caught in a breeze. Lilac represents love and innocence, and is frequently used in balms to soothe and heal wounds and burns.

VIVIENNE’S “ TATTOOS ”

 these are temporary tattoos that Marlene wears as part of their disguise under the alias Vivienne Cielborne...

forehead: at the location of the third eye in the center of the forehead ; a vertically oriented eye, half-lidded, in black ink. It is charmed with the intention to burn slightly when someone Marlene is communicating with is hiding something sinister, although they have thankfully not experienced the effect yet.

eyes: underneath each eye and along the bridge of the nose in a line ; a set of seven black dots, three beneath the lash line of each eye, and one centered on the bridge of the nose. The number and position of the dots is intended to help them see opportunities for good fortune and prosperity.

both hands: (10) one on the middle knuckle of each finger and the top knuckle of each thumb ; a set of simple black dots about the size of the head of a tack. These are meant to steady their hands while they’re working, especially on particularly precise or intricate objects and charms.

neck: from throat to jugular notch all the way around the neck ; an ornamental necklace pattern done in black lines. This intricate piece helps Marlene alter their voice and maintain an appropriate accent while in disguise.

[thewriteronthestorm-deactivated]

[ravensandrocks-deactivated20200]

“I love you more than my own skin.”

— Frida Kahlo

[mvmckinnon-blog]

madalastor:

Their single word response, a very mirror of the one he’d only just given moments before, sets something off in him. His touch grows more exploratory and hungry in nature, craving more but not wanting to take it unless given to him. Whatever this was, whether it be a one time thing, or something that could turn into a habit, felt too fresh, too unknown to push them in any one direction. He was giving himself entirely over to them, doing something he’d rarely ever done with anyone else- allow them to have complete control. 

How smart of an idea that was, he found himself slowly caring less and less about, as he could feel their breathing growing more ragged under his touch. A sound he grew addicted to while his free hand slipped under their robes to begin exploring more of the delicate skin beneath, his hand gliding up over the curves of their waist and coming to a rest at the center of their back, fingers splaying out to pull them closer as they rocked into him. 

He felt selfish for having seen and felt so many of the physical wounds they carried, while he’d done little to show any of his. And that really was what this all was about, wasn’t it? To share their burdens with one another in the hope it’d make existing that much easier- so that they’d be doing more than just existing? Slipping his hand away from their back, he takes one of their hands that was already fumbling at his shirt, and leads it to the first button, signaling them to move further, wanting them to see and feel the patchwork of old and faded battle-scars and tattoos that made up his torso. It was a baby step to the real horror that lay concealed under his left pant leg, but it was a step that would eventually wind up in that direction. No matter how scary the thought be. 

When their lips brush over his ear, pleading in hushed whispers of their need for more, he wordlessly obeys, having already fully given himself over to their every desire and whim much earlier. Slipping his hand underneath the waistband of the thin fabric that previously separated them, he lets out a soft groan against their lips as his fingertips begin their work on the sensitive flesh below. 

His own desire grows as they continue down this sinful path, feeling it become further restricted in his trousers each time their hips roll into him. As his touch intensifies, the urge to do more becomes harder and harder to resist. Simply touching the delicate scarred skin beneath their robes was becoming no longer enough, he wanted to see them- to kiss the swirls of scar tissue that covered the length of their body. 

But not here. 

The chair in the middle of their kitchen was fine for what this started out as, but physically constraining when it came to much else. Were he able to, he would have picked them up then, and simply carried them to whichever door across the room would lead him to a more freeing environment, where his tongue could do the work his fingertips were currently serving. But unfortunately those days came to an end the moment Evan Rosier decided to take half of Alastor’s left leg with him to the grave- which meant he was going to have to ask Marlene for the change of location. 

Pulling away just long enough to glance over at the two doors on the far side of the room, his eye flickers between the two of them, unsure what door lead to which room, before looking back at Marlene. “D’you want to…”, he breathes heavily, tilting his head in the direction of the two objects. “Unless you want to stay here, but if so you’re gonna be doing most of the work,” he chuckles breathlessly against their lips. 

There was still something in Marlene’s head telling them that the next moment was the last one of bliss that they would ever have, that any second they’d find themself alone again and in the same amount of pain they always were. They imagined that Alastor was about to leave, or that he’d simply cease to exist, a figment of a truly broken and deranged mind... because they couldn’t realistically see themself holding onto something so good for very long. And what they were feeling was so much more than good, it was better than they’d felt in weeks, more than they’d felt in months... Marlene couldn’t help the gut-wrenching fear that all their happiness was about to be snatched away again, quite literally out from under them. They clung to Alastor as a result, not so much with their small, weak hands, but with the way their body was secure around his, thighs tight on his hips, barely enough space between them to fit his hand.

They leaned forward and covered him as much as someone of their stature was capable, their lips sighing pleasurably against his at the increased sensation between their thighs, at the wet sound and feeling that came from his touch. They indulged for a moment in moving against those fingers, putting their pleasure on display for him as much as they had their pain and grief. Their breath came out raspy as Marlene rolled their hips against Moody’s to chase the feeling, to tease closer and closer at the idea of his fingers slipping inside. And they kissed his lips carefully, still suspended somehow between the idea that it could end at any moment and that it was a moment they could live in forever. In either case, it made them take their time, to learn the taste and feel of his lips enough as to commit the shape of them to memory.

His hand, large but gentle as it captured theirs, was oddly grounding. It brought Marlene back to the present moment rather than let them continue to worry over how much longer he’d be there in front of them. Given a task to complete, they became more intently focused, their hips slowing their grind again, backing away from the mounting pleasure only slightly as they made quick work of his buttons. Their damaged fingers were surprisingly nimble when put to the task, but still gentle as they exposed a line of skin down from his throat to the tempting fly of his trousers. They couldn’t help but slide one of their hands inside his shirt almost immediately, smoothing it over Alastor’s battle-worn skin with a sort of reverence, almost. They kissed him again meaningfully, their tongue slipping over his lower lip in a hungry, beckoning way. It was matched by the desire still building in their gaze as they pulled back slightly to mouth again at his neck, their attentions trailing down over his throat, his collarbone, his sternum, and dipping lower still across the expanse of newly uncovered flesh.

At Moody’s words, they were torn for a small moment between enthusiastically agreeing to his suggestion, and taking him up on his offer to stay put. They seriously considered the latter option for a moment, and a rather intricate picture came to mind of them keeping him pinned right where he was, using the pleasure he provided as they saw fit... Had it been another day, or he another person, Marlene might have preferred that option, to quickly satisfy themself and be done with it. But this was something they wanted to remember, something they wanted to ache with the memory of at night, when they really were alone again. They wanted to seize the opportunity for something more while it was still within their grasp, to not let it slip away like they had the past ten years of experiences the world may have otherwise brought them.

“Yes, please...” they answered, somewhat breathlessly, as they moved their lips back up his body. In a fluid motion, they had managed to pry themself away from the contact they continued to crave, from the exquisite burn of pleasure building in them, and they pulled Moody up along with them. Their fingers tangled with his as they led him away, into the cool dark of their bedroom, depositing him again seated just on the edge of their bed. And while they wanted to resume where they’d left off, taking whatever pleasure from him they could manage to grasp, there was another part that wanted action from him as much as he wanted it from them. They wanted, at least, to know that their affection and desire wouldn’t be entirely wasted on him, that he wasn’t someone that would simply disappear on them after they shared in each other’s pleasure.

They stepped closer in a suggestive way, their legs mirroring the way they’d been draped over him in the other room by framing the scene for Moody again, showing him how easily they could do just what they’d done before. But they wanted something else now and their desire for it was palpable in the heat between them as Marlene deliberately stripped his shirt off of him, their fingers running carefully over sensitive skin, studying him. They let themself indulge in looking for a long moment, eyes tracing an imagined path over his skin, kissing down his chest and his stomach in a way their mouth craved to. And then, desire bare in their expression for him to plainly see, they stepped back just a bit, just enough that he would have to reach for them.

Searching his eyes, Marlene found themself probing again at his desire, wondering at the depths of it. They wanted to know how they could make Alastor reach out and take them in the way they were craving, how they could come to find themself devoured, lost to pleasure in a way that made the painful reality of the world sting a little less. The thought occurred to the wix before long to simply show him, and that was how they ended up taking his hand again admiringly, as if they’d missed the feeling of it on them for the momentary time it had been gone. And it was true, there was a weight to his touch that somehow made them feel more real than they had in a long time, and they quickly found themself becoming addicted to it just as they did with their other vices. With their delicate grip, they positioned Moody’s hands, curling into the fabric of their robes or slipping just beneath them, and they suggested what he might do with them by letting one sleeve slip off of their soft, freckled shoulder beneath his palm. They shrugged into it, pressing their flesh against his hands to encourage him to take them in the way they both craved, to undress them and reveal the complete picture of vulnerability and desire permanently etched into their skin.

“Do you want me, Alastor?” As it fell from their lips, the question seemed more teasing than it did a legitimate query, and they couldn’t help but pair it, after a lingering moment, with a dangerously intimate kiss that suggested they already knew the answer.

[mvmckinnon-blog]

tmtonks:

“You’re right, I know you’re right. This is a chance for something new, isn’t it? And living in the past is just going to bring more pain for us. We all have to find a way to move forward, whatever the hell that means. It’s just so difficult when there are constant reminders of the pain and the loss. I know you understand that,” they said, a little sigh to their voice. Marlene knew that better than them, it felt like, but they were glad that they would understand. “But guess that’s what it’s all about. We’ve got to try anyway.”

The hardest part of that, to them, was that they were so genuinely convinced that they had no future that it felt impossible to do anything other than live in the past, go over those mistakes over and over again. They had done too much, made too many mistakes to give themself a long, happy life. People like them didn’t live to see fifty. They expected a few more years, if that, before something changed and the Ministry decided there was no place for a murderer but back in Azkaban. And that was if a naysayer didn’t manage to get to them first, and give them a taste of their own justice. But they had to try, didn’t they? If there was one thing that being with Alice again had assured them, it was that it was worth it to try, even just for a taste of that happiness again, no matter how long it lasted this time. 

They were pulled out of their thoughts, though, as Marlene poured the water over their roses. They could feel their stomach drop as they watched their rose unfurl, the water starting to turn an unsettling blood red that brought back too many images of death and destruction to the front of their mind. Just seeing that made them feel like maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe they shouldn’t have sought them out to talk, maybe they shouldn’t have allowed what had happened with Alice to happen. It felt like a sign that the answer to the question that had been on the top of their mind since Alice showed up at their door––am I even capable of anything other than pain anymore, am I capable of love––was a resounding no. All that was in their future was more death and destruction, more pain and suffering by their own hand, destroying their lives of the people they loved all over again. It felt a lot like the walls were closing in around them, that they needed to leave now, or they might do just what the leaves were predicting.

But then it changed, quickly as it had started; a brilliant golden flower emerging from the blood red tea. It was a reminder of just how much this sort of thing still meant to them, how much store they took in divination arts, considering the relief that washed over them when they saw that. Not just relief, but hope. It was a hope that maybe they could have some of that still deep down, hidden beneath the veneer of blood and death. Honey and thorns all in one. Maybe they were still capable of the love they had feared they had lost somewhere along the way. They fished the rose out of the cup with a spoon, and put it on the saucer, already having decided that they were going to take it with them when they left, given how much something so small meant to them now.

Their relief lasted only a moment, though, as they looked at Marlene’s tea, watching the liquid within their cup turn a dark, dangerous black, ash and smoke. It was just as jarring as it had been to see their own tea turn blood red, and unfortunately in their mind it made just as much sense. What had Marlene dealt with over and over again if not the smoke and ashes of destruction? It was cruel to see something like that in their tea, and it worried them, made Ted wonder if it was an omen for more to come. It wasn’t fair, the last thing they deserved was more pain, after everything they had dealt with already.

For a split second, Ted was tempted to tell Marlene not to drink it, almost expecting some sort of poison instead of tea, given what they were both seeing. But they brought the cup to their lips before they could say anything, and nothing more happened. It was nearly a shock to them, really, considering the thoughts that were running through their mind. They had a feeling Marlene was thinking much of the same.

They passed off the joint gladly, considering what had just surfaced in Marlene’s tea, and automatically went to take a sip of their own, if only to have a reason not to have to get into what that might mean quite yet. The cinnamon and clove, light notes of orange, that would have been pleasant felt too sweet, somehow, given what they were looking at. It felt too obvious, and too cruel, really, considering everything Marlene had already been through. And they both sat looking at it in silence for what felt like a small eternity. When Marlene finally spoke again, voice shaking slightly, the anxiety written all over their face so clearly, Ted wanted nothing more than to offer them some sort of reassurance, but they were having trouble finding any. Accepting the joint, they reflected for a moment, on the possibilities of that black, ominous tea. They took a long hit before speaking again.

“Not all omens mean the obvious,” Ted said, voice soft, a little somber. The words were meant to comfort, but they were also something that they believed wholeheartedly when it came to any sort of interpretive divination, which was most. Signs were rarely clear, and people more skilled at the art than even them had fallen victim to focusing on one interpretation and ignoring the other possibilities. It was just as possible for a sign to say something about useful as it was stating the obvious. “This could be a symbol of the past, just as much as a symbol of the future. A reminder of what you were just saying, maybe? That we need to move forward, build something from the ashes of our old lives…”

Marlene wondered for a moment if Ted truly believed in what they said. They seemed to accept it, but there was something off, something darker about their voice than if they’d been talking to the old Ted... and perhaps it was simply what had been done to them, the many emotional and physical pains they’d suffered in the ten years that separated them. After all, wasn’t that enough? Anyone would be changed by Azkaban enough for them not to sound like themself anymore. Still, something nagged at the younger wix’s attentions, something that still felt wrong even though all things considered they had no place to try and say what was normal for Ted these days. Marlene hoped desperately and maybe even to the point of foolishness that they wouldn’t throw away the second chance that they’d been given- and they weren’t thinking of the one Lily Evans had provided them either, but rather the opportunity they had in spite of what she’d crafted them into. They didn’t want to watch Ted become a monster again, didn’t ever want to have to consider if they could pull their wand faster than they could pull their gun.

But it was difficult not to consider, not when Ted had clearly been living in the past up until now, when their actions and their words proved as much, especially on the subject currently at hand... They thought back to when they had finally read the article (in a more coherent fashion than when they had originally done so, swimming in their sadness and pain and about two bottles of firewhiskey). It had gutted them, had plunged them back into the same despair they’d felt when they heard about the violence that Ted had committed all those years ago. It seemed clear, by what they said, that their opinions weren’t in keeping with moving forward, with leaving the past behind and trying to build something else in its place... Marlene feared they were already too far gone down a path of bloody revenge... and yet they couldn’t abandon them now, when there was still a chance for something better, however slim.

Reaching out, Marlene tried to extend with their hand their vulnerable heart, tried to show Ted that they were still here for them, and that they were willing to be by their side even if it meant being hurt again. They put their hand on Ted’s gently, the scarred skin velvety soft against theirs, and they considered them with a look that was just as soft as their exposed feelings. “Just know, I’m here for you Teddy,” they said carefully, using the pet name again less instinctively this time, more meaningfully. “Whenever you need me... I don’t want to stand by anymore while the people I love are in pain... So, just promise you’ll come to me, if you need someone... okay?” It was all well and good to make Ted promise, but whether or not they’d actually take their advice or not, there was no way to be sure. “I don’t care how dark it gets... I mean... I’ve been there before.”

Obviously, the energy of the room had shifted considerably after the rather strange outcome of their tea readings. Marlene was both simultaneously happy for Ted for receiving what seemed to be a good omen, and terrified for themself, for the horrors that apparently continued to await them, lurking in every corner of the flat, and in the corner of every room they could think to venture to beyond it. There was a part of them that felt bitter, and exhausted- too exhausted to keep dealing with the same pain again and again. And with the way the weed loosened their tongue just a little bit, let them honestly react to what was happening to them before burdening them again with the real consequences of those feelings, they let a snide comment fall from their lips before they could think better of it.

“Thanks, but you and I both know that’s just what you say to someone whose fortune is bad... You give them the hope that their fate can be changed, even if it’s just a lie.” Their words didn’t catch up to them until they were talking the joint again from Ted’s stilled fingers and taking in a breath of smoke that was large enough to be inadvisable. The smoke burned Marlene’s lungs and brought them suddenly and violently back to trying to breathe as they fought their way out of a burning house. The emotional pain, too, felt like that. As soon as they caught the callous tone they’d used, the complete dismissal of Ted’s words, they realized that it was the most obvious way that they’d changed over the years. The old Marlene never would have spoken like that, like their words were lethal and they no longer cared who might be harmed by them. And of course it was easy to gradually dissociate when they didn’t feel like themself anyway, to just blink in and out of existence. For a moment, they couldn’t see any reason to come back out of the void, but the way their heart strings still tugged at them kept them grounded on the earth in a way little else had.

“I... I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” Marlene explained with some guilt tinting the color of their voice. “I’m just... so tired...” It hardly seemed like a decent excuse when they said it out loud, but it was an exhaustion they felt in their soul, one they could never quantify in words, but one they knew Ted felt as well. They only hoped they hadn’t cast any doubt on the reading of their far more auspicious tea with their cruel and careless remark. “I need to learn how to take my own advice, I suppose...” Easier said than done, of course.

[mvmckinnon-blog]

atticusrookwood:

It was a dangerous game he was playing, really, being so out in the open so often lately, but he was feeling a little hopeless, which was making him a little too bold. Or rather, it made him care very little about what anyone might have to say to him. Nothing had changed, of course. He was still completely confused and worried and a dozen other emotions he didn’t know how to explain. So maybe that was why he was kept ending up in the Leaky Cauldron after work for a pint or two. To numb some of those feelings, if only for a bit. He was well aware that it wasn’t a smart choice, that it very easily could’ve become a problem, a crutch, and yet he couldn’t really bring himself to care about that potential when he had so much else to worry about.

So he’d come in for the third night in a row, and taken a seat at the end of the bar, near the corner where he was harder to see, ordering a pint and downing a good bit of it as soon as it was handed to him. He was so focused on getting a buzz as quickly as possible, that he didn’t notice anyone approaching him until he heard that familiar voice at his side. They made him jump slightly, taking him off guard, their words catching him even harder than the shock. It took a second for what they were saying to really sink in, the hurt clear on his face for a split second before he tempered it, a rare break in the mask he wore if only because of how hopeless his whole situation had been feeling lately.

“Marlene, you know I don’t think you’re pathetic, come on,” he said shaking his head. Atticus could feel the anger rising, even though he knew in his head that he deserved any of their own anger. But they had been through this all already, it felt cruel to go over it again, like they were doing it purposefully to hurt him, when he was trying to figure out how to move forward. “Cool, you don’t need me. Good to know. You know you didn’t have to come over and say any of that. You made it pretty clear what you think last time we ran into each other. I know you don’t want to deal with any of this.”

Anger was pointless, though. That was something he had learned very well over the past several months. Anger didn’t get you anywhere if you didn’t have something else behind it, the real need to actually do something. So maybe the solution hadn’t been to cut off everyone completely, not considering how he seemed so keen to keep talking now that Marlene was here. But that didn’t mean he was sure of what he needed or even wanted. “I know I’ve made things unnecessarily complicated, I’m well aware. I’m just so confused, Marlene, I don’t even know what the hell I want anymore. I appreciate that you’re so willing to offer me anything, but I don’t know what to do with it,” he sighed. “Do I want you to go away, do I want to be alone? Or do I want to tell you how afraid I am? Do I want a friend? Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I want. And I’m sorry that it’s you who’s getting the brunt of my shite.”

Their tough facade lasted all of a few seconds before Atticus’ hurt reaction snapped them completely out of it. They immediately regretted confronting him, wished they had just left instead, although they had no idea where else they would have gone to avoid being at home. But... that was the very point of this whole thing, wasn’t it? Atticus had told them that they couldn’t keep escaping, couldn’t keep hiding away from the world, and expect their problems to magically go away. In a way, it was because of him that Marlene had approached in the first place... it was only now that they understood that this clearly wasn’t the sort of thing he meant...

A deeply felt hurt replaced their earlier indignation, one that likely showed on their face, because Marlene was truly incapable of hiding their feelings when they were already this vulnerable. They were reminded more and more the longer they stood there that it was perhaps this very trait of theirs that Atticus couldn’t deal with. It made them want to disappear, to phase away and become a part of the wall or the ceiling, to stop annoying him with their presence. No matter how much they willed it though, they did not vanish or disapparate, and their feet would not carry them away. Another part of them wanted to reach out and touch him softly, to make up for the harsh words they’d said but didn’t mean in the slightest. Their hand ached with the sensation of reaching out and making contact, but they stopped it before it could do more than twitch and curl their fingers at their side. The last thing he likely wanted right now was to be touched...

Marlene wasn’t sure they could believe what he said- that he didn’t think they were pathetic. Sometimes that was the only input they processed coming from anyone, the pity and the vaguely disguised contempt for how they made their lives just a little darker when it was already so dim. And perhaps they didn’t see all of that in him right now, but they saw disdain, and whether it was real or imagined, they sensed that he would have rather not had to deal with them right now. They shook their head, mouth opening to argue back, because their wounded heart would let them do nothing less right now, but they were stopped suddenly by a comment of his that confused them. Had they... spoken since exchanging those messages that night? Marlene didn’t think so and yet... here was Atticus referencing some previous conversation of theirs... The bewilderment was clear on their face for a moment as they wondered what he was talking about, and if they had truly managed to forget an entire conversation somehow... But as Atticus steamrolled into some unexpected vulnerability of his own, they let the questions fade away in favor of attending to him instead. In some way, his seemed like the easier problems to solve, at the moment.

“You sound like you need to talk,” they said carefully, trying to manage the emotion clearly still present in their own voice and wrestle it into something that sounded calmer than they felt. “And that’s really all I meant to offer... I didn’t mean to confuse you by talking about my own problems I just... I don’t know, I thought it would make sense to relate about how afraid I am too... But... I should have known that wouldn’t be what you wanted to hear after... Well... after everything... after all the bullshit you’ve had to put up with because of me and my demons... I’m sorry, I honestly wish you’d never seen any of that...” They stopped, only to realize that they had started wringing their hands nervously, and that they had broken eye contact with him ages ago in favor of staring at their own deeply scarred palms and fingers which seemed purple and bruise-like in this light. “I guess it was selfish of me to reach out to you when you don’t need the burden of my problems added to yours... I just... I wanted you to be okay... I can’t.... I don’t want anything bad to happen to you...”

[mvmckinnon-blog]

sybtrelawney:

Sybill wasn’t exactly surprised to see Marlene enter the shop, but the state of the other wix was rather unexpected. You didn’t even have to particularly attuned to other people’s energies to notice the air of sadness and apprehension that surrounded Marlene, which was different from their usual wistfulness, Sybill noted in passing, replying to the greeting absently.  They were still partly thinking about the flock of birds they’d seen on their way to work and if it meant anything, but they were quickly grounded by the sight of Marlene kneeling down in front of them. Sybill’s hands instinctively reached out for Marlene’s arms as if they could hold the other wix together and prevent them from unraveling. Sybill could not imagine what might have driven Marlene to such a state; they racked their brains for a moment, trying to recall any event that could trigger such reaction, but, to their knowledge, there was nothing. Sybill hated not knowing, but it was too soon to ask Marlene directly—it was obvious the wix was in no condition to talk. Sybill let them take some comfort in the physical touch for a few moments, then gently pulled them to their feet and steered them to the other armchair.

Sybill hurried to the storeroom to make tea, for once opting out of boiling the water traditionally in favour of the much quicker warming spell. A calming herbal blend might not be the ultimate solution to any problem, but in Sybill’s experience it always helped. And Marlene looked like they needed all the help they could get. Sybill tried not to let them out of their sight as if any moment Marlene could break down. Sybill was used to people coming to the shop for a reading in all kinds of states, from anxious to absolutely panicked, but it was different when it came to someone Sybill knew and cared about. There was this urge to help them, to make sure that Sybill would do everything possible to give them what they needed, whether it was just a piece of advice or shelter from the world outside. However, Sybill wasn’t quite sure if such an impulse was motivated by feelings of friendship or the eternal echo of their past. Perhaps it didn’t matter in the end as long as both they and the friend would walk out of the shop a little bit happier. Perhaps it was just easier not to wonder about this kind of things.

When it was ready, Sybill placed the cup of tea in Marlene’s hands and sat back in their armchair, sipping gingerly on their own tea. All they could do now was to wait; there was no point in pushing for answers. It was like scrying in a crystal ball—the more you tried to make sense of the shapes, the more they eluded you, but once you stepped back and let everything run in its own pace, the message would eventually reveal itself clearer than ever. And so Sybill drank their tea, from time to time regarding Marlene, their gaze soft the way it would be if Sybill had been looking into their crystal ball. They could see the gradual change in Marlene’s demeanor, the slight loosening of muscles, the slowing cadence of their shivers. Still, Sybill remained silent, constantly clearing their mind, so that their own curiosity and worry would not show in any way, not even in the twitching of their fingers or the tilt of their head.

When Marlene finally spoke, Sybill didn’t even flinch at the sudden sound. Instead they gave their words all their attention and halfway through Marlene’s confession they reached out to put a comforting hand over theirs. “It is understandable,” they pointed out once they were sure Marlene wouldn’t elaborate any more, “that someone as sensitive as you might have difficulty staying present in a world such as ours. Here you can never know where the next blow will come from, what intentions anyone truly has. Dreams, on the other hand, give certainty and there’s a sense of safety in that.” They paused, patting Marlene’s hand lightly and leaning back into the armchair. “Do you think there might be any reason that you need to have that sense of safety more than before?” they asked, tilting their head a bit to the right. “Of course, your mind might want to escape because the reality where something is constantly happening is too overwhelming, too much to take in, but perhaps there is more to that, still?”

Marlene always appreciated the seer’s willingness to provide physical comfort, and their ability to know when it was needed. Even a simple touch on the hand did wonders for their frayed nerves, calming the rapid fire of interconnected anxieties and intrusive thoughts that had stemmed from their nightmares. They’d been a mess like this all morning, even around Regulus who they tried to shield from the worst of it when they could... no matter how they’d tried to shrug it off it had seeped through the cracks in their demeanor and flooded the space between them. Perhaps it was because he was a little closer to the issue than he normally was... because his face had been one of those mangled beyond recognition in the night. In any case, they’d burned breakfast once, had broken a plate, and cut open the sensitive flesh of their hands as they’d tried to clean it up. It was part of the reason they were wearing the gloves today, although the chill was enough of an excuse. As much as they wanted their advice, they also didn’t want to worry Sybill any more than they had to. They certainly had enough on their own plate, these days. Everyone did, it seemed.

The soothing tea helped encourage a warmth deep in Marlene’s belly that the brief grip of their hand only strengthened, and they couldn’t help but offer a small flicker of a smile in gratitude for the gesture. However, it was short lived as they tried to blearily piece together their dreams from the horrifically memorable moments to the vague shapes of context surrounding them. It distracted them, for a moment, from Sybill’s response, and as they shook the lingering darkness off again with a visible shrug of their shoulders, it took them a moment to absorb what they’d said. It seemed that the seer’s powers were more in tune to their predicament than they’d thought they might be, as Sybill saw beyond the face value of their experience, the aftermath that was tainting Marlene’s aura with negative wisps of despair and hopelessness. They saw them using their dreams as a refuge, as an escape... and that sentiment began to clarify some things.

Perhaps their world in dreams was beginning to fail them because there was no escape... Maybe their mind was trying to subconsciously remind them of that... but what Marlene couldn’t figure out was what the intention was behind it... They’d grown accustomed to being tormented by their own thoughts and imagination... it was far crueler to them than reality had ever been; after all in the real world their family could only be taken away from them once, whereas in their mind they were taken again and again and again, along with anyone else they dared to care for. But Marlene wasn’t entirely convinced anymore that their own head meant to torture them further, when they were already so weakened by the exhaustion of enduring it for so many years. Maybe there was something else going on, something they couldn’t see because they were too close to it.

Sipping their tea deeply, Marlene decided to answer their questions first before clarifying their concerns. Their hands were still shaking, and although they willed them to stop, they found it impossible to do so when they couldn’t shake one particular image out of their head that threatened to send them into a fit of tears all over again just thinking about it fleetingly. “I think perhaps the reason I try to craft my own dreams like I do is so that I can be sure of what’s coming... so that my mind won’t wander to somewhere unexpected... to somewhere too dark... I feel very... uncertain, about my natural dreams... I can’t trust my own head not to hurt me, so I’d rather know what I’m about to experience, I suppose...” They paused to take another sip, a distraction from how they were feeling just as much as it was a way to stall before the dark confession that was coming. “B-But... it hasn’t been working, lately... As it is, it’s dangerous to use potions like these every night, and on my off days, there are always nightmares seeping through... I- I’ve been trying new mixtures lately...” And they took another sip to avoid admitting just how potent some of those brews were. “But they all seem to be... wearing off during the night... Now no matter how pleasantly a dream begins, they all end badly... L- Last night... I... I dreamed of someone I care for dying... and... You k-know as well as I do... I can’t live through that again... I w-won’t be strong enough to... to-”

They cut themself off with a gasp that makes them realize they’re about to cry, that is the ugly intake of breathe that comes before the complete breakdown. They manage to stifle their sobs, but the tears fall regardless, and they’re reduced to a shriveling mess, curling in on themselves and dripping a salty puddle into their teacup.

[mvmckinnon-blog]

madalastor:

Alastor’s gaze darts up to the wix’s as he feels their lips softly brush over the rise and fall of his knuckles, sending a soothing rush of warmth up his arm. It is the way they look at him that scares him though. There was a level of hope and admiration that hung in their eyes that he’d seen all too often before, but was fearful that like before, they’d only come to grow disappointed by the actual man that lay before them. No matter how much he willed it, he was not the fearless vigilant “Mad-Eyed” Moody the public so liked to paint him as, he was Alastor-a failed war hero, a flawed and absent father, a barely functioning alcoholic. But as they continue to look at him in the light of the man he once was, he finds himself wanting to try to be that source of strength for them again. 

“Usually, yes,” he chuckles, “force of habit, I guess.” A small smile finds its way across his lips, but soon fades at the mention of burdens and loneliness. “I’d rather be there than anywhere else, at least when I’m in the thick of it I have some clue of what in the hell is going on.” He lets out a sigh and finishes off the last of his glass. When he sets it down he looks over to them, something changing in his features as this time his hand reaches for their’s. “I’m sorry you had to as well,” he replies, briefly wondering whether if he’d sought them out sooner how easier things would have been for them. 

In the years following the war he’d sought out comfort in several different forms from different people, Alice and Neville being his source of purpose in all of this, Maggie being his physical comfort when either of them got too lonely in their too big of houses, and a liquor bottle serving as numbing remedy for all things he didn’t wish to reflect on. He’d found a way to manage though it all in one way or the other, how well of a job he’d done was clearly debatable. Looking at Marlene now he senses they weren’t as fortunate in their methods of comfort, or maybe they’d fared just the same as him, not being fully satisfied with the lives they were living but enough to continue on anyway. 

His smile soon returns, though this time in the form of a faint knowing grin, as he watches the wix realize just what he was implying in his choice to pull away. He does not say anything in response to their teasing though, instead allowing his grin to grow a little wider as they move towards him, liking the way his first name sounds on their lips. When their weight fully settles in his lap he moves one hand to their hip to help serve as a source of balance, while they take the other in their’s. His eyes remain glued to their’s as he feels his hand being run over the expanse of soft flesh at the top of their thigh, hypnotized by the alluring desire that swelled in them. His gaze breaks away for a moment to take in the sight of the exposed skin now resting on his leg. It wasn’t until then did he realize the full extent of the injuries they’d sustained from their own personal tragedy. 

When he touches the swirling mass of scar tissue he does so softy, his fingers following the trail of metallic strands that wove their way throughout the old injury. He wishes his touch could do more than simply soothe the pain that lay there, that somehow he could heal the wounds that he was sure served as a painful reminder of the past, just like his own did for him. Instead he does the next best thing, lifting his gaze back up to their’s he allows his hand to slip under the remaining layers of fabric, further exploring the delicate skin that lay beneath. 

When their lips brush his, achingly close but not nearly close enough, he almost misses their question, too taken up by the allure of the almost to focus on what was being said. He does not answer them at first, instead allowing them to further explore the lines and faded scar tissue of his own that peppered the skin around his pale eye. When he does answer it’s barely above a whisper, the tone of his voice low from arousal.

“Hope,”

is all he says before finally closing the torturing distance between them, his lips crashing into their’s as his hand moves from their hip to the base of their head. As his left hand pulls them closer to deepen the kiss, his right hand begins to further explore the skin beneath their robes. His fingers moving now more hungrily from the swirling scar tissue that made up their upper thigh, until they dipped down to the space where their two thighs meet. As his fingers come across the thin fabric that lay there, he makes no attempt to remove it, instead choosing to have them softly ghost over the light material that was damp from the wix’s own arousal. 

“And what about you?” he asks, pulling away only slightly. His voice is ragged from desire, as his fingers begin to more deliberately massage at their’s. “What made you ask me to come here?” 

It was astonishing to Marlene how connected to him they felt already, on what might as well have been their first meeting, as neither of them were the same people that had known each other in passing previously. They felt like a mirror to him in a lot of ways, although in many others they were complete opposites. He had chosen to stay out on the battlefield while they had cloistered themself away, hoping the cruelties of the world would overlook them. They felt like a coward compared to him, but at the same time there was something about him that made their heart ignite with passion. And not just for him, but for all of it- for life, for the human relationships they had isolated themself from, for the world they had left behind in the ashes. Something about him and how they’d always felt his true intentions made them want to be better, to step out into the sunlight again.

They could only nod wordlessly as he took their hand in return and acknowledged their pain, the loneliness they’d suffered as a consequence of their own choice. It twisted up something inside of them half guilty that reminded Marlene that it wasn’t entirely true... that they hadn’t really been alone in all this, but it was easy not to let it show on their face; because that wasn’t their secret to reveal. And if there was anything they’d perfected in the past ten years besides their protection spells and their aesthetic charms, it was biting down that particular reaction- the one real secret they had in a mess of elaborately fake secrets. In reality, Marlene was an open book; anyone who spent more than a few minutes in their company could see that, even if they did disguise it behind the mask of someone else’s name. It only made sense that the one secret they cared to keep was someone else’s.

It was easier to swallow down the guilt than it should have been, easier to ignore the lie in favor of focusing on the show of making themself vulnerable. A show, because- while what they were feeling was certainly genuine, that didn’t mean it wasn’t also theatrical, in a way. They were putting their pain on display for him for a reason after all, they just hadn’t expected to be reciprocated so immediately and openly. There was a part of them that hadn’t expected Moody to take them so seriously, that had perhaps expected him to realize upon having a conversation with them that they weren’t right for his cause at all, that they weren’t worthy of his time or efforts. Maybe it was their fear of being left alone after bearing the pain of it for so long that made them think that way, and maybe that was all that was making them reach out now, but it didn’t change the fact that the things he was making Marlene feel physically and emotionally were unlike anything they’d felt with someone else.

It had been a while and so they’d forgotten just how vulnerable this moment always was, when they revealed some of their worst scars. Of course, the full picture was the most grotesque of all, but still Marlene couldn’t help but be anxious for a moment that he wouldn’t want them anymore, that something about them would turn him off, or that he’d simply decide he didn’t want to deal with the emotional damage that their physical wounds carried with them. But, they reminded themself, Alastor knew what it was like... this was the connection they had been feeling so strongly, some of the many ways they were the same. They both carried the burden of their pasts and their own foolish mistakes in their hearts and their heads. If anyone was to fully accept them for what they were now, the assemblage of broken parts in the shape of something whole, it was surely him. Before they could even entirely talk themself down from the anxious spike though, he was already pulling them closer.

The overwhelming pleasure of their lips finally coming together was met with a swift blow to the stomach that came with his answer. It had the effect of doubly taking their breath away, of sending them immediately into that euphoric headspace that they craved, that they had always been chasing with others. But it was tangled with an ache of self-doubt, of a sudden fear that they couldn’t live up to Moody’s picture of them, that he’d somehow seen them as more than they were. They didn’t feel like an embodiment of hope, not when they were too afraid of the world to be a part of it. But he was kissing Marlene like he saw something real in them, like he saw the horrible truth inside them and hadn’t been scared off by it. And they wanted so badly to believe that they could mean something to him, something important, that they couldn’t help but chase the feeling of pleasure, moving their lips hungrily in response to him, giving over to the intensity of the moment.

They could tell by the waves of desire crashing over them both, sending them ebbing and flowing into each other, that they were in too deep already. Something about this was more than they’d intended it to be, originally. Marlene had lost their grasp on control the second they’d come closer and placed his hand on their thigh. Alastor’s touch was almost surreal in the way it electrified them, as if he’d completed a circuit in their body with his hands. They could feel it inside and out, coiling through their core along the pattern of the scars beneath his fingertips. They felt their skin rise to attention under his touch, felt it yearning for more contact so much that they couldn’t help but shiver and press into it, bringing their bodies closer and more flush, the heat quickly building between them. Marlene’s scars began to stand out from the rest of their skin, heating in a flash so sudden that they felt cold at first touch, but burned fever-like, their texture smoothing over like marble. The reaction leaves them with heightened sensitivity, so that by the time he begins moving his fingers against them beneath their clothes even the slow, restrained attention makes them gasp softly.

Marlene hadn’t even realized they’d closed their eyes until the sound of his voice compelled them to open again, and they saw just how close he was lingering, ready to capture their lips again in an instant. His breath was as ragged as they felt, distorted by lust and the filter of intense emotions they’d been reflecting back and forth, and they were so aroused by the sound of it and the pleasure that was beginning to build up in them under his hand that it took them a full minute to comprehend the question he asked in return. Marlene didn’t immediately know the reason they called him out- again they suspected it was their own loneliness more than anything, but after considering what he said before, they realized the answer was obvious.

“Hope,” they repeated, trembling under his gaze, in his arms. Their voice was painfully quiet between them, as if Marlene was afraid that even speaking of it too loudly would irrevocably shatter it. It had been so long since they’d last admitted to having hope. They’d relied mostly on obligation to carry them through the last few years... hope was something they’d long since believed to be dead. But it was clear that their connection with Alastor and the way it was quickly intensifying meant something... they just weren’t entirely sure what that was yet. All they knew was that whether they’d been conscious of it or not, he’d been the one they had always believed in, even when it felt like there was no point in believing in anything.

Marlene closed the distance between them this time, sealing the bond between them with their words like a pact. Their breath hitched as his touch intensified, as the sensations rolled through their body just right, but their lips never strayed far away, instead pressing their breathy gasps against his mouth. They wanted more from him, they wanted everything, but didn’t know how to ask for it, moving against his hand as best as they could without ruining the exquisite burn of anticipation. Marlene tried to put their desperation into their kisses, into the way their hands tangled into the front of his shirt and into his hair to pull him closer. But nothing seemed quite enough, and it made their breathing and their hammering pulse pick up along with their arousal.

“Please, I want you to really touch me,” they pleaded not far from his ear, trailing a few kisses down his jaw to his throat. “I want to feel you...” Their hands began almost frantically fumbling with his clothes, unsure of what part of him they wanted to uncover, of what would lead them on the swiftest road to the pleasure they sought.

[ontheveldt]

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And it burns, burns, burns