#p:minerva

[moodyvigilance]

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts; Minerva + Alastor

Alastor Moody doesn’t give in to emotional discord easily. It’s unbecoming and dangerous for an Auror, especially the Head of the department. Yet the past several weeks had been deeply challenging and his fortitude was beginning to slip. Eris toying with him in a subtle manipulation. Thoughts of Iain and what they’d done, the nightmares of his past raging strong and making sleep a near impossibility.

So when Alastor lets himself into Minerva’s office, he brings with him a deep aroma of booze and cigar smoke. “Min, y’aboot? Minerva!” he bellows as the door falls shut behind him.

@tabbycatmcgonagall

[moodyvigilance]

|| Clandestine Outing ||                 Minerva + Alastor

Checking himself over once more, Alastor tries his hardest to tell himself that he shouldn’t put so much stock in his attire. More than likely, Minerva will have her opinion on anything he donned. And surely there’s nothing romantic in their outing. Yet that doesn’t force his feet away from the mirror in his flat or smooths out the frown lines on his forehead.

Finally, he steps away and reviews that he has tickets and his wand, a wallet that is need of replacing. Outside his window, the sky is a pallid grey but nothing that threatens serious downpour. England rarely gives sunny skies. So with confidence that his plans will follow through to form, Alastor stands in his front room, patiently awaiting Minerva’s arrival by floo. It had been easier to open his own hearth to her rather than make the trip to the castle only to return to the area of London and Kew.

Part of him begins to question if making the woman floo to his home was the polite and gentlemanly thing to do, though. Perhaps she will be miffed at having to take such a form of travel and not have him attend to her with better service?

Overthinking never bodes well so when Minerva does appear, Alastor shakes himself out of the worry to swiftly step forward and assist her in stepping out properly, hand held out and face polite.

[moodyvigilance]

Bothersome || Minerva + Alastor

It has been a long while since he’s tread the halls of Hogwarts as a student. Alastor feels too big in the corridors, no matter how wide they are, as if his adulthood meant he wasn’t quite right for them any longer. Perhaps if he had become a professor like so many others he would feel he fit but alas teaching was never a true calling. He wouldn’t consider being an Auror or head of the department much like teaching. He barks orders and throws hexes too often for that title to suit.

If not for his duty to looking after the Aurors posted around the grounds for stronger safety measures, Alastor wonders if he’d be here in these halls at all.

Whatever the case may be, he finds the Transfiguration classroom easily enough. It hadn’t changed places in the many years since he’d been a little boy in Gryffindor robes and tie. And just beside it was the office of the professor responsible for the instruction in the finer points of transfiguring items--Minerva McGonagall.

He gives a short knock at the door but doesn’t wait for an answer before testing the handle. Finding it open, he shoves his way inside.

“Y’ should do bettae t’ lock it before sumeone gets anae funny ideas,” he offers matter-of-factly as he steps inside and swings the door shut behind him.

[moodyvigilance]

Mummy and Me || Minerva + Alastor [baby AU]

Alastor can’t tell if he’d been asleep for a few minutes or a few hours, sprawled out on the small sofa in Minerva’s front room. But the moment he hears the sound of wailing cries, his body moves into action even before his mind catches up with him. He’s been camping out with Minerva and her newborn for a week now while his own flat gets renovated and he doesn’t know how many times he’s gotten up so far to look after the little one but it just happens.

Bleary eyed, wearing only his checkered pants, Alastor takes a moment to lean into Minnie’s room. “I got ‘er.”

Then he’s moving down the hall into the baby’s room, knowing the path well enough now not to flip on the lights as he goes. Stepping into the room, he begins to make hushing sounds as he reaches her crib and reaches in to pick the little girl up. “Hush nae, I got y’.” He sways with her cradled in his arms, waving his wand at the small nightstand lamp to cast a small glow in the room so he can see her little face as she continues to whine pitifully. “Wha’ gotcha this time, eh? Soiled y’self? Or y’ ‘ungry, little one?” Then he’s checking her diaper. No soiling. So hungry then. A quick accio and a gentle warming spell later, he settles himself with Minerva’s little daughter into the rocking chair and settles the nipple of the bottle to her tiny mouth, watching her calm and begin to suckle away. “Der y’go, lass.”

[blythefawley-blog]

Woman Meets Woman || Minerva + Blythe

Alastor insisted that she not bother him at work. No, she can't come visit him during his lunch hour. No she will not bother his aurors with asinine questions. And no, she should not attempt to become London's next vigilante. So instead, Blythe finds herself bored in her uncle's apartment, trying to figure out what to do.

One thing Blythe always looks to when she needs to think or she's rather bored is a bath. It soothes her and, back home, it was the easiest way to escape the noise of her large family. The trouble with her bath in Alastor's flat is that the tub is less insulated and, if she thinks too much on it, less clean than her bath at home. Which leads to her bath time being much shorter than normal.

Grabbing a thin towel, Blythe steps out of the bathroom, barely covered. Not that she's concerned. Her uncle would make his presence known if he'd returned from the Ministry. He doesn't do anything quietly, she certain of that.

Except apparently someone does. A dark-haired woman stands in the middle of the flat and Blythe can't help that she's shocked to see a woman in her uncle's flat. "Who ze fuck are ye?" she snaps with an arched eyebrow. The fact that she's damp and naked doesn't phase her but that woman's presence does.

[hushed-lion]

Ash to Ash, Dust to Dust // Mary, Molly, and Minerva

What more horrors could the world be subjected to? How many more wrong doings would be done to those would could not help the purity of their blood or the color of their skin tone? How much longer would the innocent be subjected to such damaging damnation?

In complete shock Mary watched the continued news coverage on the muggle TV stations, the flames licking the smoke covered sky and casting its choking darkness. From the first moments of coverage she panicked, racing from her home to the nearest payphone to call her family. They were less than thrilled to be awoken by their unwanted daughter, but she quickly explained and sighed in relief to find them alive and well. Her mothered yelled, blaming the girl for making them targets, but Mary took it all in stride and eventually hung up with a burden lifted from her shoulders.

Now it was two days later, Tuesday the 15th of August. Mary sat on the couch, fiddling with her thumbs as she though in silence. All the order members were alright, at least that's what she thought from the information she'd gathered from various owls sent out in panic. She worried for them, they worried for her. Times of war were stressful and took their toll, Mary herself hadn't slept since that night and was simply tired. The world was beating her down event by event, nasty comment after nasty comment and all she could do was take each blow and act as if did not phase her. In reality, it struck her core.

Prejudice was something not unfamiliar to the girl, a harsh lesson that was beat into her from an early age. It hardened her skin and also exposed crucial weak points. The strength of lions wasn't something instilled in her as it was with the others, they fought, she hid. 

(Retaliation only made it worse. She tried to fight Mulciber that night and only pushed him to use the cruciatus curse repeatedly.)

Heavy eye lids began to flutter shut, bringing on an impending sleep she for some reason dreaded immensely. If Mary slept, her guard was down; the large red target upon her back growing larger and flashing like a beacon for those who ate death to fulfill their hunger.

She'd almost drifted off completely, but a slight sound outside her door snapped her awake. Where they here? The slender wand was drawn, bare feet pacing to the front door with hesitation.

"Hello?"