#rosmerta | alastor moody 002.

[ofxsorcery]

Starter for: Alastor Moody x Rosmerta Abbott ( @brillicntmcdness ) Location: Safehouse at the Three Broomsticks

Through the secret communication channel Ros used with the Order, she had heard that someone who needed attending was now in the safehouse. So with some supplies to make sure that injuries would not infect, the woman had made her way over to the safehouse. After lifting the security spells for a moment and giving the password, she entered the room. With her back towards the occupant of the safehouse, Ros put back the wards and it was only then she saw it was Alastor Moody who was in the room. She stayed in one place for a moment before moving in closer to him, taking a seat at one of the chairs next to the simple table in the room on one side. On the other side was a single bed. Enough to hide out in. Her gaze moved up towards Alastor, but said enough; 'I need you to sit down'.

"Where are you hurt?" Ros focused on the supplies in her hands as she tried not to think how hurt the man in front of her was. Because it hurt her as well to think that he was in pain and she could not get distracted at this moment. She simply could not. Even though she knew it was mission impossible. He had always been a distraction to her.

[amoody]

As the night grew later and the attendees at the wedding reception were getting increasingly intoxicated, it was becoming more bareable. Alastor made sure to stick to the shadows, only really interacting with others when they interacted with him, first. It was surprisingly calm for a room full of former (alleged) Death Eaters, but he wasn't going to complain about it. He was glad things were quite normal once again.

Alice had covered his post for him as he wandered outside into the garden, needing some fresh air and a cigarette. He didn't smoke very often, but being sober in a room full of drunk bell-ends made the craving quite unbearable. Although he was somewhat on a break, Alastor remained vigilant, observant, keeping his eyes on the guests dancing throughout the garden and those using it as a passageway between the home and the pavillion. It was possible he would have missed her if he hadn't been on such high alert.

"Rosmerta?" Alastor called out to her, taking a few quick steps to catch up with her. "I can't say I was expecting to see you here. Did Alice let you in?" He knew that technically he should ask her to leave if she didn't have an invite, however he certainly didn't want to throw out one of the few tolerable people at the party. "You look lovely, would you like something to drink?"

After a raucous evening at Daisy and Tilden’s party, where the drinks flowed as freely as the laughter, Rosmerta found herself caught up in the merriment and mischief. As the night grew deeper and the stories wilder, a daring idea took root. She knew Alastor would be at the Malfoy wedding reception, likely on security duty or just scowling at the frivolity. The idea of seeing him was too tempting.

With a few too many sips of firewhiskey warming her blood, Ros decided to crash the Malfoy wedding. The security at the backgate was rumored to be lax, thanks to an overzealous guard who’d indulged in the celebration. Slipping through the unguarded post with a thrill of excitement, Rosmerta made her way into the lush gardens of the Malfoy Manor. The night air, filled with the scent of orange blossoms and the distant sound of punk rock covers from the Weird Sisters, felt electric.

She adjusted her flowy, pastel dress and smoothed her hair, her steps slightly unsteady but determined. Finding Alastor amid the elegance of the reception would be challenging, but Rosmerta was never one to back down from a challenge. She imagined his surprised face, the quick flash of annoyance followed by the grudging admittance of her audacity. That thought alone spurred her on, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement. Tonight was a night for unlikely adventures, and Rosmerta was ready to make it memorable. @amoody

[ofxsorcery]

Ros was stopped in her action of cleaning up his arm, when his fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist. She sucked in a breath as her eyes found his hand and only carefully she let go. Her free hand moved to his fingers, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it softly. "I will always try to be careful," she promised him. She knew that what she was doing with this safehouse was everything but careful, but she had to do this. Ros was just as her family; they could not sit still and just let everything happen.

The woman looked at the hand that was still in hers. It was such a familiar feeling; his hand in hers. But at the same time, it was a feeling with vague memories it seems. Despite that feeling, to Ros it still felt as if his hand was perfectly made for hers. Slowly she removed her hand from his, her fingertips gently moved over his. Slow so she could enjoy the feeling of his hand in hers for just a little longer.

Ros' eyes moved back up to Alastor's dark ones once more and once their gazes were locked, she started speaking. "I should've asked this all those years ago but I need to know, Alastor." A pause fell between them as she was unable to pull her gaze away from him. "Why did you walk away?" the woman asked.

It was only after that hard question that Ros pulled her gaze away from Alastor once more to lower it down to the arm that she was treating. A safe location to look at right now.

If Alastor were more sober, he likely would have never showed his face in a safe house that was owned by Rosmerta. He would have stayed far away just as he had for the past few years. The problem now was that he wasn't sober and he'd showed up to the last place he wanted to be. It wasn't her fault. It had never been her fault. It was everything to do with him and the fact that he was terrified of commitment. More than that, he was terrified of losing her because of something he did. He'd seen many of his coworkers lost to circumstance and he saw their loved ones after the fact. He couldn't do that. He wouldn't.

Even after all of this time, he was drawn to her like a moth to the flame. He wanted to get burned and his inhibitions were lowered by the alcohol he'd consumed. Rosmerta touched his arm and he wanted to jump out of his skin. He wanted - no needed - more. When she stood to walk away, he was thankful. Merlin, he needed to sober up. Alastor rubbed his face with his hand and took a deep breath. He could do this. He'd let her heal him and then he'd run.

"I might be. Might not be. Who knows," Alastor mumbled, knowing that it had been stupid. He wasn't one to back down from a fight, especially if it was with someone who endangered the lives of others. He hated the Death Eaters. He hated their cause and he wanted to put every last one of them in the ground or in Azkaban. His thoughts were interrupted by Ros and the glass she placed in front of him.

He drank the water without hesitation and without argument. Alastor had never been the best patient but he was a bit more compliant when he wasn't sober. She could consider herself lucky. "Go on," he muttered, wincing as she poured the liquid on his arm. He'd been in worse pain before. Hell, he'd lost his leg. Various other scars, bumps, bruises. This was nothing.

"They took the first shot. I was just defending myself," he murmured lowly, meeting her gaze for the first time since he'd sat down. "You need to be careful," Alastor told Ros, his hand wrapping around her wrist as he gazed at her. "Promise me that you'll be careful."

He couldn't lose her.

[ofxsorcery]

Carefully Ros took his arm in his hand to look at the damage. A lot of blood was to be found but it didn't look too bad. It seemed a physical cut and nothing more than that. Nothing spell related seemed to be the case. She was very aware of the feeling of his skin underneath her fingertips. Ros knew she had to move, she had to clean the wound. But it was as if the physical contact just stopped her in her tracks. It was only the slurring in his voice as he spoke up, that she carefully let go of his arm. "I need a few more things," she mumbled softly as she got up from her seat once more and cleaned her hands on the cloth that she had brought along.

The redhead moved away from the table to get the things that she needed, but stopped when he spoke about the situation of how he had gotten injured. "I have a feeling you are to blame for it as well," she mentioned. Alcohol didn't always seem to be the best solution when it came to Alastor. She quickly walked out of the room, so she could pick up a bottle of vodka and a bottle of water. With the two bottles and a glass she returned.

Ros placed the glass in front of Alastor on the wooden table, filling it with the water she had brought along. "Drink that. The more alcohol, the more it bleeds." The woman sat down again and unscrewed the bottle of vodka. She looked up and her eyes found his dark ones. "This is going to hurt." And directly after those words, she poured some of the liquid over the cut in his arm, cleaning it effectively.

"What happened, Alastor?" Ros asked, as she gently took his arm in her hand once more, grabbing one of the cloths to dab his arm clean.

Alastor knew better than to drink in public and get into fights. He had learned a long time ago that he was much better off drinking in the privacy of his office or his home. His office and his home were void of Death Eaters. The streets and pubs of London were littered with them. Truthfully, he wasn't even sure whom it was he had gotten into a spat with. All that he knew was that the moment he could get his wit about him, Alastor had disappeared to one of the safe houses for the Order. He hadn't been thinking straight, however, and that was made clear when he apparated into the safe house inside the Three Broomsticks. This was the last place he wanted to be.

She appeared the moment that he thought about her and Alastor wondered if she could read his mind for a brief second. He saw the look she shot him and he sat down without any arguments. The fact that he had even made it here was a miracle. He didn't want to test his luck by trying to run.

"It's just a scratch," he slurred slightly, before holding his arm out to her, "I think." He wasn't completely sure what curse had hit him when he was attempting to get away. As long as he didn't lose another limb, he gathered everything would be fine and dandy. Clearing his throat, he attempted to sober up. Seeing Rosmerta had been sobering but he could still feel some alcohol in his system. "These fuckin' death eaters are getting some right bollocks on them," he grumbled moodily.