#𝐢. 𝐟𝐭. ⸻ moira ann graves.

[hoggleswart]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  &  𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙼𝙿:    st  mungo’s,  a  few  hours  before  the  memorial.   𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃:    this  isn't  just  some  lark  to  me,  just  so  you  know. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂:    closed  to  moira  graves.    (  @hopcflowered  )

"  i  know,  and  i  wouldn’t  dream  of  suggesting  otherwise.  "  the  smile  that  arthur  attempts  doesn’t  quite  reach  his  eyes  anymore.  it’s  possible  it  hasn’t  for  a  while  now,  but  weariness  that  seems  to  ache  in  every  bone  makes  it  harder  for  him  to  pretend  today.  memorial  is  never  easy  for  a  parent  permanently  missing  the  laughter  of  a  child,  but  it  feels  noticeably  harder  this  time  around.  burden  weighs  heavier  every  time  he  considers  how  close  history  came  to  repeating  itself    …    again,  or  how  much  it  cost  a  young  boy  his  daughter  had  grown  so  fond  of  to  prevent  pattern.  it  feels  like  a  never  -  ending  cycle  they’re  caught  in;    always  turning    &    impossible  to  step  off.  chest  breathes  in  deep,  silencing  his  own  thoughts  to  offer  moira  what  he  hopes  to  be  reassuring  words.  "  but  i  would  be  remiss  if  i  didn’t  at  least  try  to  encourage  you  to  rest  before  returning  to  the  office.  your  recovery  is  far  more  important  than  a  bit  of  paperwork.  take  as  much  time  as  you  need.  "  it  strikes  him  as  hypocritical  to  preach  what  he  himself  doesn’t  practise,  but  it’s  easy  to  hold  other  people  in  a  higher  regard.  "  now,  tell  me.  how  are  you  feeling?      ⸻  has  basil  been  in  to  visit?  "

[hoggleswart]

their  conversation  makes  him  think  about  his  own  mother.  not  the  one  he  was  born  to.  she  rarely  crossed  his  mind  these  days,  but  instead  the  one  who  took  care  of  him  when  she  didn’t  have  to.  he’d  given  her  grief  this  morning,  taunted    &    teased  when  she  insisted  he  get  his  injuries  checked.  it’s  easy  to  forget  how  much  real  parents  worry  and  as  he  sits  here,  observant  eyes  reading  the  concern  on  moira’s  features,  alfie  starts  to  realise  he  might  owe  mary  an  apology.  the  nagging  came  from  a  good  place,  always.  he  needed  to  appreciate  that  more.  ＂  alright,  fair  enough.  think  of  it  like  this  instead.    —    the  more  you  let  them  take  care  of  you,  the  quicker  you  can  get  back  to  taking  care  of  him.  call  it  quid  pro  quo.  ＂  finding  a  positive  hadn’t  always  come  easy  to  him.  flashback  fifteen  years  ago  and  he  was  a  surly,  angry,  little  thing,  brooding  silently  in  dark  corners.  that’s  something  else  he  owes  to  his  parents.  low  chuckle  rumbles  deep  in  his  chest  in  response  to  her  own,  taking  the  sound  as  another  triumph.  ＂  what  can  i  say?  not  all  heroes  wear  capes.  ＂  he  continues  to  joke  and  play,  though  head  tilts  when  moira  agrees,  eyes  widening  mockingly  while  a  sharp  inhale  is  taken  in,  as  if  caught  by  surprise.  ＂  just  perhaps.  ouch.  somebody  call  a  healer  over  here,  my  ego  has  taken  a  serious  hit.  here  i  thought  i  was  making  my  best  impression.  ＂

there's a twinge of guilt in her chest as she thinks of basil, knowing he was too young to be worrying for his mum and her antics - it was enough for him to see the residual limp she has, never mind a gash on her head. then again, it was her motherly instinct to feel this guilt, to feel bad for exposing her son to such minor brutalities. moira was lucky to not have had any worse injuries, she tries not to think about the older malfoy and his demise, tries not to think of how her family would have dealt with such an event if it had happened to her. "and mamas struggle to let others look after them, 'specially if we're not used to it." though she knew she should get used to it for the foreseeable. looking after herself was low on her list of important tasks these days, having been a single mum since basil was born has left little in self care time - not that she would change it for the world. she loved basil to the ends of the universe. the smile seems to spill across her lips like a wave crashing against the shore, a quiet laugh tumbling out freely - it hurt her chest, but it was a lifting noise. "it certainly hasn't gone to waste, you'll be brightening every young lady's day today if you carry on," her features settled into a soft smile, nodding in agreement. "perhaps."

[hoggleswart]

prompt:    oh,  i  did  it  wrong? for:    closed  to  moira  graves.    (  @hopcflowered  ) location:    the  appleby  autumnfest.

＂  there’s  a  right  way  to  pumpkin  carve?  ＂  the  question  sounds  rational  enough  to  her,  but  slow  glance  around  at  the  other  attendees  participating  has  her  wondering  otherwise.  their  commitment  shows  in  furrowed  brows  and  when  she  accidentally  makes  eye  contact  with  one,  they  lean  away    /    turn  their  pumpkin  to  shield  it  from  view,  as  if  their  neighbour  might  steal  their  design.  it  sure  is  a  sight  to  behold.  damn,  some  people  took  their  autumn  festivities  to  a  whole  new  level.  their  artistic  designs  make  her  own  jagged  lines  and  messy  gut  -  scooping  look  like  child’s  play,  which    (  in  her  defence  )    it  was;  marco  sat  beside  her  with  a  sharpie  to  doodle  whatever  he  liked  onto  orange  rind.  ＂  i  sit  corrected.  i  think  we  might  both  be  doing  this  wrong.  ＂  forehead  leans  into  sticky  hand  and  she  turns  back  to  moira,  nose  wrinkled  slightly,  voice  lowering  as  not  to  upset  the  hard  -  workers  around  them.  ＂  i  vote  we  steal  one  of  theirs.    —-    snatch  and  run.  i  bet  they’d  never  catch  us.  ＂      

[hoggleswart]

a sheepish smile forms along her lips as she studies her boss, a man she had come to hold plenty of respect for, both as a coworker and as a friend. perhaps it was the lack of her own father ever being present or emotionally invested in her life, but moira clings to the paternal role models offered to her, from damien to professor flitwick and now mr weasley. shuffling up to sit up properly in her bed, there’s a momentary grimace as the shift of gravity causes a dull ache to press against the front of her forehead - she hoped the discharge would come quickly so she could rest at home, away from the clinical order of mungos. she preferred an energetic child and sleepless nights to this round the clock observation and pity offered to her - she did something good and brave, she wasn’t pitiful. she was a helper. "you’re too kind, mr weasley,” smile softens as she looks to basil’s gift of crepe paper flowers at the end of her bed, “i suppose i may take a little time to be at home once i am discharged. basil needs to be sure i am all better, he’ll need to see me smiling and playing like normal otherwise that boy will be at my ankles like a knarl.” a small laugh, a small piece of normality after the chaos that ensued prior. “i’m a little sore, no longer need to be sick, thankfully - damien keeps bringing basil to see me, all my energy is being spent on him i’m afraid, so i may not be on top form for you.”

"    please,  we’re  not  in  the  office.  call  me  arthur.  i  feel  old  enough  without  us  throwing  the  word  mister  around.    "    formalities  have  never  been  overly  important  to  arthur.  he  prefers  a  more  personal  approach  and  though  current  job  position  now  demands  a  level  of  professionalism,  he’s  sure  no  one  here  will  tell.  mr  weasley  was  his  father  after  all,  and  a  fine  man  at  that.  in  truth,  he  isn’t  entirely  convinced  he’s  done  enough  to  EARN  the  right  to  use  the  same  title  himself.  hands  clasp  together,  lowering  to  settle  in  his  lap  while  smile  dares  to  become  a  little  more  genuine.    "    finally,  we  agree.  family  is  sacred.  we  must  take  every  moment  we  can  when  it’s  offered,  else  we  miss  the  most  important  milestones.  take  the  time  you  need.  i’ll  see  to  it  that  it  doesn’t  affect  your  position  or  your  pay.    "    family  was,  above  all  else,  the  single  most  important  thing  to  arthur.  if  he  could  assist  in  helping  those  closest  to  him  in  supporting  their  own,  he  would,  even  if  it  temporarily  cost  him  an  exceptional  worker.  a  small  price  to  pay,  he  believes.    "    i  wouldn’t  have  it  any  other  way.  that’s  exactly  where  the  energy  should  be.    ⸻    i  won’t  keep  you  much  longer.  there  is    …    a  lot  to  be  done.    "    he  speaks  in  a  code  of  sorts,  one  only  they    &    a  few  others  are  allowed  to  understand,  just  in  case.  it  was  impossible  to  ever  know  exactly  who  was  listening  in,  trying  to  overhear  something  they  shouldn’t.    "    but  you’ll  tell  me  if  there’s  anything  else  i  can  do?    "  @hopcflowered

[hoggleswart]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓:     at  least  it’s  turning  into  a  beautiful  day. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒:     closed  to  moira  graves.      (    @hopcflowered    ) 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:     outside  st  mungo’s  hospital.

the  snort  that  leaves  andie  is  sudden    &    unladylike.  under  better  circumstances,  she  might’ve  humoured  the  other.    ⸻    tried  to  show  a  little  more  tact,  or  taken  a  moment  to  appreciate  the  grasp  at  optimism  in  an  otherwise  bleak  situation.  unfortunately,  moira  hasn’t  found  her  in  high  spirits,  sitting  outside  st  mungo’s  in  a  hospital  gown  that’s  become  almost  uniform  and  breathing  in  her  first  taste  of  fresh  air  in  what  felt  like  a  lifetime.  fingers  toy  with  an  unlit  cigarette;    there’s  no  intent  to  actually  light  it.  habit  is  one  she  quit  not  long  after  marco’s  birth,  but  damn  if  the  stress  from  recent  attempts  hasn’t  tempted  her.  ＂  god,  please  don’t  tell  me  my  company  is  so  bad,  we’ve  resigned  ourselves  to  discussing  the  weather.  ＂  it  probably  is.  days  spent  apart  from  her  son  twists  mood  into  something  terrible,  even  she  can  sense  it  prickling  in  the  air  all  around  them.  ＂  it’ll  be  an  even  better  day  when  they  finally  let  me  go  home.  i’m  starting  to  think  i  might  have  to  dig  my  way  out.  ＂

[hoggleswart]

"    i’m  not  taking  anything,  i  promise.    "    hands  lift  to  reveal  empty  palms,  wiggling  fingers  slightly  to  show  complete  surrender.  roshana  hadn’t  meant  to  startle  anyone.  restless  limbs  simply  needed  the  exercise  and  though  healers  were  still  hesitant  to  let  her  go  far,  persistently  monitoring  in  case  any  long  -  term  effects  made  themselves  known,  they  were  willing  to  at  least  let  her  travel  around  the  recovery  wing  itself.  it  had  been  going  fine.    ⸻    until  a  dizzy  spell  bumped  her  into  somebody  else’s  table,  knocking  things  over  in  the  process.  maybe  they  were  right  to  demand  bed  rest  after  all.    "    i’m  sorry.  i  took  a  little  tumble.  i  was  just  making  sure  i  didn’t  do  any  major  damage.  i  didn’t,  thankfully.    "    reassurance  comes  with  a  faint  smile,  eyes  moving  briefly  from  moira  to  admire  the  cute,  little  flower  display.    "    they’re  beautiful.  much  more  creative  than  the  real  deal.    "    her  own  children  were  here  not  too  long  ago,  showering  their  mother  in  a  collection  of  items  she  didn’t  need,  but  that’s  okay.  they  panic  -  bought.  arms  settle  back  down  at  sides  and  hana  lets  out  a  soft  sigh.    "    how  are  you  feeling?    "

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: st mungos, interior !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: open !!

"don't touch that." her voice is firm yet hoarse as she stirs from her sleep, the footsteps that approached her bedside pulling her from the dreamless slumber the medi witch had induced hours prior. the wound on her head throbbed as she made to move, features scrunched up in a mixture of pain and confusion and anger as her body carefully shuffles up the bed until she is sitting up. pressing slender fingers to the bandage wrapped around her head, eyes willing to open as her other hand gestured to the crooked crepe paper flowers in the cleaned out soup tin. "s-sorry. i thought you were gonna take them as well . . . basil made them."

[hoggleswart]

moira  is  working  wonders  for  their  ego.    —    not  that  it  ever  needed  much  of  a  boost  to  begin  with.  marcus  never  fails  to  hold  themself  with  a  confidence  that  seemed  almost  effortless.  it’s  false  at  times;  a  facade  that’s  been  perfected  since  younger  years,  shielding  them  from  the  insecurities  parents  forced  upon  them,  but  no  one  would  ever  know.  sometimes  even  they  struggle  to  remember.  perform  an  act  long  enough    &    it  becomes  reality.  ＂  the  prophet  should  be  so  lucky.  ＂  delivery  is  teasing  over  arrogant.  he  knows  how  to  play  to  a  crowd,  introducing  just  the  right  amount  of  charm.  his  agent  insisted  upon  it.  ＂  six?  i  don’t  believe  it.  you’re  at  least  six  and  a  half.  you’ve  got  the  height.  ＂  knees  stay  bent  for  the  time  being,  remaining  at  basil’s  height  while  gaze  shifts  from  child  to  parent,  offering  both  their  attention.  even  dares  to  applause  when  the  younger  leaps  upward,  showing  off  skills.  ＂  impressive.  i  better  warn  our  current  keeper  they’ve  got  some  tough  competition  coming  up.  you’re  gonna  put  them  out  of  a  job  with  moves  like  that.  ＂

quidditch had been one of the few loves of her childhood which had carried on into her adult life, as well as spilling over into her son's interests. so, to meet one of the most infamous players? amazing. "this is the highlight of our day." her words are whispered, a mental note slipping freely from her tongue as she smiles sheepishly. though more of a holyhead harpies fan now, a few years back she was once a devoted falmouth falcons fan. "it definitely has that windswept and suave look about it, you'd certainly be on the front cover of the prophet with such a look," and she meant it. basil nodded along and tried to fluff his own hair to match marcus', looking into the same window the quidditch player had looked into to see if they match before grinning at marcus. my name is basil, i'm six. her son speaks confidently with a slight whistle to his words as he shows off his missing front tooth - lost in the garden after a fall. "oh, definitely a keeper. he has the reflexes of a tiger, right bas?" in that moment basil nods and jumps, pretending to catch the invisible quaffle.

[hoggleswart]

he  makes  an  easy  recovery  from  their  near  -  collision.  quick  reflexes  initiate  themselves  enough  to  make  seamus  duck  left  the  same  time  moira  stills,  relieved  laughter  escaping  when  he  realises  they’ve  been  lucky  enough  to  avoid  any  potential  scrape  or  damage  to  shopping.      ＂    careful.  are  ye’  try’na  break  the  other  one?    ＂      joke  eases  out  through  smile,  head  nodding  at  injured  arm  almost  completely  healed.  does  he  even  really  need  the  sling  it’s  resting  in  anymore,  or  is  he  simply  enjoying  the  sympathy  it  garners  when  working  a  shift?  dean  bet  the  former  last  night  over  the  beers  and  seamus  opted  to  neither  confirm  nor  deny.  there  had  to  be  some  kinda  perks      (    if  they  can  be  called  that    )      to  surviving  what’s  become  another  devastating  event;    everybody  had  their  own  different  coping  mechanisms.      ＂    you’re  singing  my  favourite  song.  i’m  pretty  sure  i  spend  my  whole  life  workin’  towards  me  next  nap.    ＂

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: diagon alley, outside of sugarplum's sweet shop !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: open ( @startertms ) !!

days were tickng by until basil's sixth birthday and with the chaos of illness, the charity match attack and work, poor moira had yet to pick up any gifts for him. stepping out onto the cobbles of diagon alley, the faux blonde has to steady herself before she walks into the path of a passerby. raising her free hand, moira rubs at her tired eyes - she had barely gotten two hours sleep a night lest she be worrying or caring for her son - before checking the cobbles once again. "i need a nap, and i need it now."

[hoggleswart]

the  warmth  in  her  smile  is,  for  once,  genuine  rather  than  strained.  there’s  nothing  quite  like  the  innocence  of  children,  bright    &    alight  with  excitement  over  the  mundane,  to  remind  roshana  some  good  still  existed  in  the  world.  the  way  they  found  unadulterated  joy  in  the  simplest  of  activity  was  truly  a  wonder  and  smile  only  softens  further  when  her  own  boy  squeezes  his  mother’s  hand  to  tug  them  both  closer  for  a  better  view.  ＂  it  sounds  like  we  have  a  new  apple  -  bobbing  champion  among  us.  ＂  her  gaze  shifts  from  a  dancing  basil  to  moira.  it’s  nice  to  see  her  here,  relaxed  and  laughing,  enjoying  time  with  family.  these  were  far  better  circumstances  than  being  trapped  in  the  confinements  of  st.  mungo’s  not  too  long  ago.  normal,  for  lack  of  a  better  word.  ＂  whatever  you  do,  don’t  tell  my  eldest  two.  i  watched  them  spend  hours  splashing  around  earlier.  i  thought  they’d  drown  before  they  admitted  defeat.  thankfully,  that  wasn’t  the  case,  but  i  have  a  feeling  they’ll  be  sulking  about  it  for  a  while.  ＂

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: appleby autumnfest, apple bobbing station. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: open to all ( @startertms ) !!

any excuse to let basil set free all of the energy in his bones was a good one for moira, it meant she would have an easier bedtime routine - not to say basil was tough to put to sleep, but most nights were spent listening to the same list of bug facts that have now been engrained into moira's mind. she counts down with the stall owner as basil bounces excitedly at the wooden barrel, red and green spheres bobbing up and down inside. "go go go, bas!" clapping enthusiastically, her son's face split wide into a mixture of anticipation and excitement before he began his tirade on the unsuspecting fruits - it took everything in her to not snort with her laughter. basil was both careful and reckless in his movements, teeth gnashing like a wild animal as his mother held her stomach from the joyful giggles spilling from parted lips; it was when the teeth connected with a shiny, red apple that they softened. the six year old jumped up with wide eyes, covered in water and arms held in the air with triumph. he had done it. the stall owner ruffled basil's damp curls at his win. "well done, buddy!" moira grinned, watching as his arms begin to bounce in time with dancing feet, "you've put us all to shame."

[hoggleswart]

＂  i  think  you  should  stop  flirting  with  me.  we’re  in  public,  people  might  talk.  ＂  mischievous  eyes  briefly  widen  in  a  mocking  manner,  lips  stretching  into  a  wide  grin.  an  event  like  this  is,  admittedly,  a  little  lost  on  alfie.  he  much  preferred  a  modern  day  music  festival,  or  a  few  casual  pints  in  the  local  pub  after  a  long  shift.  he’s  curious  though,  and  his  sister  insisted.  so  far,  he  isn’t  regretting  his  decision  to  humour  her.  gaze  drops,  roaming  over  moira’s  costume  as  requested.  it  puts  his  casual  attire  to  shame  and  as  he  finishes  taking  it  all  in,  from  boots  to  hat,  he  can  only  offer  one  very  confident  conclusion:  ＂  hot.  ＂  he  strides  forward,  two  goblets  of  mead  in  grasp  as  one  arm  extends  to  offer  her  hers.  ＂  i  even  considered  throwing  in  something  about  shiver  &  timbers,  but  …  i  decided  against  it.  spare  my  reputation  the  embarrassment.  ＂

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for alfie cattermole ( @hoggleswart ) 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: somewhere in the middle of the cadbury ren faire

it was the first of two days where she was attending the ren faire alone, basil staying with her elderly neighbour for the day - no worries filled her mind as she thinks to the way he bolted into ethel's house for a day of baking. dainty hands hook her skirts into the skirt loops before adjusting her corset; tipping her pirate hat at passers-by, a sense of self-confidence imbues her body as she takes in the updated look of her costume - whilst basil enjoyed his day with ethel, she would be enjoying having a drink and having fun as an adult. a hand on a hip and the other gesturing to her outfit, moira calls out, "whatchya think? too revealing or just enough to be tasteful?"

[hoggleswart]

＂  i  can  tell.  ＂  an  unbearably  fond  smile  tugs  at  her  lips  as  she  watches  marco  nodding  along  furiously,  nothing  but  enthusiastic  to  learn  all  these  new,  fascinating  facts.  andie  didn’t  know  a  lot  of  people  or  rather,  a  lot  of  people  weren’t  overly  interested  in  knowing  her.  it  worried  her,  sometimes,  that  such  a  reputation  would  follow  her  son  through  life.  she  never  wanted  him  to  be  as  lonely  as  she’d  been  /  as  lonely  as  she  still  often  was.  watching  him  make  a  friend  warmed  her  heart;  reassured  her  even.  his  life  wouldn’t  be  like  that.  hands  hug  her  hot  chocolate  a  little  closer,  attention  turning  to  moira  when  gentle  hand  touches  her  arm.  ＂  i’m  glad  too.  the  last  thing  i  want  is  to  be  complicit  in  another  parent  descending  into  madness.  ＂  teasing  comes  easy,  even  through  the  tiredness  of  working  all  week.  feet  ache  from  standing  behind  a  stall  so  long,  however,  it’s  worth  it.  the  bills  are  paid.  ＂  besides,  i  wouldn’t  dream  of  trying  to  keep  these  two  apart  too  long.  marco  keeps  asking  me  when  he  gets  to  see  basil  again.  ＂

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for andie macnair ( @hoggleswart ) 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: nearby luna lovegood's stall at the cadbury ren faire

basil holds a brooch of a luna moth tightly between his little hands as he rattles off different facts and likes of moths to marco, eyes bright and a small bounce in his feet. the moment he had spotted the piece of jewellery on luna lovegood's stall was the moment moira's day would be moved towards fluttering wings and bugs, she was thankful for the arrival of andie and marco. "he really loves moths." a small laugh spills from her lips as she watches the children talk animatedly with eachother. focus moves to the fellow mother as features soften and a hand reaches out to touch andie's elbow, "i'm glad you're here. i may have gone insane if i didn't have you here to join me in the frenzy that'll ensue with these guys."

[hoggleswart]

"    if  there’s  anyone  you  don’t  have  to  apologise  to  for  that?  it’s  me  right  now.  i  get  it,  trust  me.  i’ve  not  been  very  fun  to  be  around  lately  either.    "    hospitals  had  a  habit  of  bringing  that  outta  someone,  and  so  did  trauma.  combine  the  two  together?  recipe  for  disaster.  recent  events  had  stirred  a  dark  part  of  andie’s  personality  awake;    one  she  usually  worked  hard  to  keep  at  bay.  thankfully,  she  didn’t  have  that  many  people  around  her  to  fall  victim  to  it,  but  it  still  provided  her  with  at  least  some  level  of  understanding.  a  chance  to  relate  to  moira’s  current  predicament.  the  other  had  been  kind  enough  to  sit  with  her  when  roles  were  reversed,  presence  providing  some  much  -  needed  distraction  from  the  intensity  of  it  all.  it’s  only  fair  she  now  offers  the  same.    "    yeah.  i  thought  i  was  gonna  lose  my  mind  when  they  kept  me  here  after    …    y’know.    "    does  she  know?  as  a  macnair,  andrea  is  used  to  her  name  being  on  other  people’s  lips.  however,  these  days,  it’s  been  for  a  different  reason,  rumours  of  those  possibly  inflicted  during  charity  match  spreading  like  wildfire.  she  hates  it.    ⸻    as  if  people  didn’t  already  have  enough  reason  to  avoid  her.    "    marco  didn’t  understand  why  he  had  to  leave  and  i  couldn’t  go  with  him.  it  was  awful.  is  your  boy  okay?    "

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: st mungos, exterior courtyard !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for andrea macnair - @hoggleswart !! 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: i'm trying to tell you, you are not alone here.

pressing a hand to the throbbing pain pushing to her forehead, the faux blonde presses her lips into a small smile - typically it was moira to cheer people up, to make them smile and give them hope. it was a nice change. "i know i know. sorry about lashing out when you turned up," the hand drops from her head and pats the seat beside her on the bench, "not a fan of hospitals if i'm being completely honest. separates me from my boy for too long."

[hoggleswart]

＂  yeah.  i  think  i  know  a  little  something  about  that.  ＂  for  different  reasons,  no  doubt,  but  he  relates  nonetheless;  memories  of  a  young  boy  so  used  to  taking  care  of  himself  and  struggling  to  embrace  what  a  new  family  were  suddenly  offering.  learning  to  accept  help  was  far  easier  than  offering  it.  he  struggled  even  now  sometimes,  running  headfirst  into  fire  instead  of  waiting  for  back  -  up,  much  to  the  captain’s  frustration.  ＂  just  think  of  it  as  good  karma.  getting  back  what  you’ve  given  out.  mamas  need  looking  after  too  sometimes.  ＂  head  tilts  and  eyes  twinkle,  alight  with  boyish  charm.  he’s  seen  that  hint  of  a  smile  tugging  at  moira’s  lips  and  damn  if  he  isn’t  determined  to  make  it  stay  a  little  longer.  might  as  well  spread  some  happiness  around  while  he  was  here.  ＂  good  to  know.  i  was  worried  for  a  second  there.  didn’t  want  all  my  handsome  to  go  to  waste.  i  worked  hard  on  this  outfit  today.  ＂  not  true.  clothes  thrown  on  without  much  of  a  glance  in  the  mirror  is  far  from  dedicated  effort,  however,  at  least  they  match.  ＂  i  guess  it  pays  to  be  taken  care  of  after  all.  ＂

"you're right there . . . i think my son is starting to catch on to my little quirks if i tell a lie." a little wrinkle at the tip of her nose and a small upwards curve on the right side of her mouth, basil's dad had pointed out as much whenever she tried to hide things from him. not that she should have, but that was another life. a soft sigh falls from parted lips, a sign of resignation to her predicament as she leans back in the seat - how she longs for the plush mismatched armchair in her living room. "i know i know . . . i'm not used to people looking after me anymore, i'm the one who does the caring, you know?" the last person whom had cared for her had been damian when they were younger. before he disappeared. then she became a caregiver, putting basil before herself in every aspect of the world. until now. his question causes a small smile to pull at her lips as she nods, "i could still see. i can still see."

[hoggleswart]

＂  it’s  always  harder  to  fool  the  ones  who  know  us  best.  my  mum  can  sniff  a  lie  before  i’ve  even  told  it.  it’s  impressive.  infuriating,  but  impressive.  ＂  not  that  he  makes  a  habit  of  keeping  secrets  from  her.  mary  cattermole  taught  him  better.  he  smiles  when  apple  is  accepted,  pleased  to  be  of  some  help,  no  matter  how  minor.  alfie  likes  to  be  useful,  a  far  contrast  from  the  troublemaking  boy  he  used  to  be.  ＂  seems  a  little  counterproductive,  i  admit  …  but  i’m  sure  they’re  just  lookin’  out  for  ya.  they  are  the  professionals  after  all.  ＂  he  steps  forward,  inviting  himself  to  perch  down  on  the  arm  of  moira’s  hospital  chair  rather  than  the  seat  itself  and  casually  leans  back.  ＂  you  could,  right?  still  see?  ＂

"my friends and family would say otherwise." her father, if he were still breathing, would curse her name and rattle off the an annually growing list of reasons she was nothing like him - a thankful gesture in moira's eyes because who would ever want to be graham graves. though her lies may have fallen on deaf ears with other adults, basil believed her to be okay and to only have a scratch on her head - of course the bandage and the pale skin didn't help her lie, but he was young. he wouldn't understand such injury . . . thankfully. a genuine smile pulls at her lips as she reaches for the offered sustenance, her free hand reaches to tuck stray hairs behind her ear. "hopefully. they are incessant at checking me every few hours - they woke me up at midnight just to make sure i could still see." she understood their reasons, but she was exhausted, in pain and just wanted to go home.

[hoggleswart]

＂  the  marcus  flint.  i  like  how  that  sounds.  ＂  it  isn’t  hard  to  get  on  marcus’  good  side.  as  rough  around  the  edges  as  they  are,  just  a  brush  of  the  ego  was  enough  to  keep  them  at  a  pleasantly  low  simmer.  for  all  their  hidden  smarts  &  larger  than  life  attitude,  they  are  (  usually  )  a  simple  creature,  craving  simple  pleasures,  such  as  acknowledgement  or  praise.  fingers  fluff  hair,  taking  in  their  reflection  in  a  store  window  one  last  time  before  turning  to  give  them  their  full  attention.  anything  for  a  fan.  ＂  adventure  is  exactly  the  look  i  was  going  for.  ＂  windswept  often  came  with  the  career.  he  knew  it  worked  for  him.  moving  forward,  knees  bend  to  dip  downward,  lowering  themself  to  basil’s  level.  ＂  it  doesn’t  look  anywhere  near  as  cool  as  yours  though.  who’s  this?  ＂  gaze  drifts  up,  next  question  aimed  at  both  parties  rather  than  just  the  boy.  ＂  the  falmouth  falcon’s  future  keeper?  ＂

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: "hows my hair?" 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: tbd !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for marcus flint ( @hoggleswart )

"m-marcus flint? like the marcus flint? of the falmuoth falcons?" basil squeezes her hand as the pair of them stare in awe at the quidditch player - both were keen fans of the sport and though not necessarily a follower of the falcons, she was a fan nonetheless. looking at moira, you wouldn't know about the quidditch match memorabilia that decorates her home, the books on a game she would never dare play herself littering the bookshelves. their question lingered in the back of her mind as she had an inner squeal to herself, basil most definitely doing the same, before clearing her throat and gesturing to the player's appearance. "your hair? it's fine, perfect even. a little windswept, but who doesn't like a bit of adventure in their look, yes?"

[hoggleswart]

"    don’t  sell  yourself  short.  i’m  sure  you’re  great.  i  just  have  a  pretty  good  built  -  in  detector.    "    put  it  down  to  an  early  childhood  spent  bullshitting  his  way  through  life,  combined  with  skills  provided  by  firefighting.  his  paperwork  wouldn’t  be  too  useful  to  the  investigation  team  if  he  didn’t  know  the  telltale  signs  of  someone  not  quite  being  truthful.  fortunately  for  moira,  as  observant  as  alfie’s  eyes  can  be,  the  happenings  of  the  wixen  world  often  remain  a  mystery  and  therefore,  approach  comes  from  a  place  of  curious  concern  as  opposed  to  any  real  suspicion.  he  doesn’t  visit  st  mungo’s  often.  doesn’t  have  a  need  to,  but  a  recent  work  -  related  injury  that  isn’t  healing  as  fast  as  his  mom  would  like  on  muggle  medicine  has  brought  him  in.  anything  to  calm  her  fussing.    "    no,  but  i’m  generous  enough  not  to  press  further.  your  business  is  your  business.    "    he  flashes  a  smile  then,  juggling  the  apple  he  expertly  swiped  from  a  nearby  trolley  from  hand  to  hand  before  offering  it  over  to  her.    "    i  hear  one  a  day  keeps  the  doctors  away?  maybe  it’ll  get  you  outta  here  faster.    "

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: tbd !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for alfred cattermole - @hoggleswart !! 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: that's not a real answer.

"and i thought i was good at lying." humming softly, the faux blonde flicks back her fringe with slender fingers as she shrugs her shoulders. it had been released to the public of grace's involvement, of all of the auror's involvement, but not moira's. so it became a dance making up stories of how she ended up in st mungos, how she ended up with a wound likely to scar upon her head - from a nasty fall in her stoneless garden to a wild imp causing trouble with a fanged frisbee. "would you believe me if i told you i took a tumble down the stairs at home?" it wasn't like he would know she lived in a bungalow.