#hestiajxnes

[alex-moody-church]

Alex was at once spooked and comforted by open spaces. It all depended on too many things to consider. But today, in the wide green scope of the park, scattered with trees and benches, paths, the occasional pond, he felt an unusual sense of peace. From here he could see anything coming, and Sugar was sitting at his side on her harness growling at the occasional squirrel, so he felt extra safe. 

When he caught sight of Hestia and Fettucine he grinned, and waved a little, before striding over to her and sweeping her up in a crushing hug. “There you are, finally. I missed you.”

@hestiasjxnes

[mxdnight-marauder]

James had always been taught by his mother to be kind, and though his track record in school with the Slytherins might have set him back a bit, he had learned from his mistakes as a teenager, and was paying for them now. He had even attempted to make up with Severus Snape. However, as it often felt, good things tended not to last long. James ran with wolves, quite literally, and was an animagus. To act in violence against anyone who had even the slightest drop of creature blood seemed cruel and hypocritical. For Merlin’s sake, his cousins were half veela. 

He might have no longer been a student, but Hogwarts was and would always be a second home to James, and he would protect it’s grounds and the creatures that lived there with his last dying breath. Agreeing to help was the easy part. Coming up with an actual plan was going to prove difficult. He was better at planning with the mates, but he would have to act separately now. “Oi, what are you doing over there? We’ve got to figure out what we’re doing,” James shouted in the direction of Hestia Jones, who he had run into on the way headed to the black lake.

@hestiasjxnes

[alex-moody-church]

Calling Coaches

Alex was sipping on coffee, going through the various sketches he’d done for flyers and finding flaws in each of them. This idea was possibly a bit mad, but most of Alex’s time was taken up by mad schemes of some sort of another. The bakery kept him busy, sure, as did worrying about his husband and coordinating desperately so he and Alastor could have a day off together every once and a while, but the truth was that unless Alex was spreading himself thin, he was bored. 

He and Hestia Hones had met coaching Little League quidditch a bit outside the city, and with the ban on mass gatherings in place her job was put on hold, meaning she had more time than ever on her hands. It was she that he was conducting this hairbrained scheme of putting toddlers on brooms with, and he’d already grabbed a little corner table at the coffee shop in anticipation of her arrival. 

@hestiasjxnes

[thebeautifulexecutionair-blog]

alone again;

[ hestiajxnes ]

He hadn’t expected much, but the location just made it so much worse.

            Of course, he hadn’t expected that a chance meeting at the pub to blossom into the spectacle that it had. 

It was as quaint as it was sickening. He’d almost expected inspirational quotes to be littered around the place, accompanied by creepy little teddy bears, and hundreds of flowers. At least it was clean. It almost had an air of class...but maybe that was just because it was so tidy. It was too light as well. That was what he hated. Windows everywhere, lamps to light the places the sun couldn’t. It was awful. 

He hadn’t hesitated in making himself at home. He’d nodded at the neighbour, slipped her a cheeky smile as he’d let himself in. He’d gone through her wardrobe as well, taken a few things for later; not underwear. He wasn’t a total creep. Just a few jumpers and a few bits of jewellery. Things that she’d only notice were missing once she properly looked. 

          Always one for drama, he’d left another bouquet of black roses besides her bed. He’d put them in a vase; he wanted them to last, but the sickly sweet scent was starting to work it’s way through all the rooms. 

He’d been prepared to leave it at that, but the thought of not being able to see her reaction saddened him. He wanted her to know he was watching, to always been looking over her shoulder, to be checking every corner. Merlin knew that after the whole fiasco with the Longbottoms, it wouldn’t take much. 

So he sat, cup of tea and cigarette in hand, and waited. 

It was going to be brilliant. 

[thebeautifulexecutionair-blog]

Kiss

    If he’d have been concentrating, he’d have noticed the silence. 

But he didn’t hear the sound of stunned silence, no, not in the slightest. All he could hear was her nervous giggle, the increase in her breath as he stepped closer. It was music, a symphony composed just for him, and it made his heart   s t o p. Her laugh was a wonder, a song he could listen to day after day and never tire off. She, was all he could hear.   

If he’d have been concentrating, he might have noticed the disgusted looks, the eye-rolls as ‘Walden Macnair acted out again; kissing the half-blood just to get a reaction’. Yet all he could see was her. Her eyes were masterpieces, works of art that no master could ever dream of replicating. There, right there near the pupils, were flecks of light that were brighter than any stars he’d had the honour to observe. But stars died out. Hers never would. He wanted to be the reason her eyes lit up, the reason tears would fall, be it from laughter, or from pain. He wanted to know she cared.

Her hands, small as they had always been, were a perfect fit into his. He knew every mark, every scar that laced across them, as if they were his own. He’d kissed his way, when no-one was watching him, when she wasn’t expecting it, taking in every detail. More than that, he knew the story behind those hands. Blindfold him, and he could still point out the burn from First Year, when that prat Creevy had attempted dueling before he even knew how to handle a wand. Or, even, the lone freckle on her wrist, the veins that mapped out along her fingers. He knew every one, he never wanted to forget any one; he never wanted to let go.

                          Her lips. 

He hadn’t been able to forget them. Her smile, her pout, her laugh, her frown. She was so fucking expressive. From the minute he’d met her, he hadn’t been able to stop looking at them. She’d caught him, on numerous occasions, and each time she’d tease. He didn’t mind her knowing, didn’t mind her mocking him. She knew all about his fancy for her, a crush that reached school boy proportions. 

                                           And here, in front of all those society held near and dear,  she’d returned his love. 

He hadn’t expected it, not in the middle of the room, not with everyone’s eyes on them, but the minute he felt her lips on his, everything went away. He felt like a girl in his desperation to feel her closer, but he couldn’t give a damn, not any more. She’d given in, just when he was near giving up and that meant everything. 

              “Your place or mine?” 

It was just a joke, she knew it was, but he refused to let go, damn near cried when she pulled him in closer. For those seconds, he forgot all the shit that he was entangled in, forgot everything that was going on. For the minute, she was his; he was hers, and that was all that mattered.