RP: Redemption
Date: November 5th 2004
Characters: Alastor Moody
Location: Stoatshead
Status: Private
Summary: Alastor is haunted by Seti’s words. He comes to a decision.
Completion: Complete
She really should have known better than to sneak up on him like that. He could have hurt her if he hadn’t known that it was Seti; if he hadn’t been prepared.
That was the conundrum. She trusted him to know that it was her. She trusted in him.
For a moment, back in her apartment, it seemed as if she had understood. It would have been so easy to lay down his burden. To let her in. Gods, he wanted to let her in.
But it was just as he’d told her. Alastor didn’t want to watch the light die in her eyes when she realized he was a monster. When she realized that she couldn’t live with what he was.
It was one thing to flirt with the dark. It was quite another to open your arms to it.
She had said goodnight. It should have been good-bye.
Oh, aye, he’d heard her words. Moody knew that she was a strong woman, a capable woman. A beautiful woman; a beauty so much deeper than her face.
And all she was asking of him was that he trust in her the same way.
He just didn’t know if he could. He’d been alone for too long, been too far down the dark path.
Alastor’s steps took him away from Seti, but they did not take him home. The dark streets were a comfort to him, the shadows welcoming arms.
This was where he opened himself, not in the bright light of her warm flat.
This was when the dark could spill out of him like an ink stain across all that he touched.
This was when it was the hardest to be noble.
He remembered that last kiss, remembered her hands on him. That sweet fire…
Sweet fire? Gods, he was losing it. Losing it!
What if that’s what his enemies wanted? What if…
Alastor shook the thought from his head. He knew that Seti would never betray him. He’d fought alongside her. They’d been together the night he’d been injured for the last time.
He had been ready to die; and it would have been a good death. Alastor would have been welcomed to the hearth fire of his ancestors; taken there by the Valkyries…
He wasn’t sure he believed that, but it sounded like the fitting end that he’d worked so hard for. That he deserved. But Alastor had seen too much to believe in fairy tale gods and Valkyrie maidens coming for the faithful…
But Seti? She’d held off the dark. She had held off Death himself until the medi-folk had come.
Alastor had tried to get her to leave then, too. To get her to save herself.
It was almost dawn. The sky was that purpled intensity of that between time as it merged into a pale blue, streaked with the orange of the rising sun.
There would be no rest for him tonight. His mind would not quiet.
There was still so much to do.
It would be a simple matter to ease his troubles with another bottle of that fine, single malt and some paid companionship. To ease the way his body ached with the need of her. She’d fit against him so well…
Maybe he could fuck her out of his head.
Alastor sighed into the darkness. He knew himself well enough to know it wouldn’t be worth the lucre; he’d keep hearing her voice, seeing that hurt on her face…
What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t some sodding Gryffindor to mope about, angsting over his goodness and doing the “right thing”. He was Alastor Bloody Moody. And he was feared for a reason. He was a bad, bad man.
But Alastor had given her an out; he had given her plenty of them, actually.
And Septima Vector, he wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting anything. Not just her flesh, not just to know her from the inside, not just to hear her screaming his name with wisps of her hair clinging to her sweat-soaked skin; her mouth swollen from his kiss.
Oh, he wanted those things. But even more than that, he wanted what they’d had that moment in the street.
She’d touched him. For all to see. Her hand on his shoulder, his back to her. Perfect trust.
He should have ignored the grand old dame when she’d come knocking. Then he would be balls deep and sleeping with Seti in his arms.
“Who are you kidding, old man?” Alastor muttered to himself.
The reality of it would have been much different, he was sure.
He’d be lying there, awake, and wondering when he could leave; knowing every minute he touched her, he was destroying something pure. But storing up visions of her face, what she looked like with moonlight on the alabaster perfection of her skin…
He was still no closer to an answer. He’d talked himself into one there for a moment. And it was what he wanted, that wasn’t a lie.
But it was folly. It could only end badly for both of them.
It was just as well.
He would worship that woman. And even if she could withstand the darkness, what about those who knew that they could use her to get to him?
That was the deciding factor, something he’d only just now considered. They would hurt her to get to him. He needed to stay away from her. He would stay away.
Alastor never should have kissed her. It never should have gone that far. Seti never should have touched him, that innocent offer of comfort between friends.
Twisted. He was twisted. Just look at how he’d twisted it.
But he couldn’t forget that she tasted like summer. Sweet warmth and honey…
Redemption tasted like honey.
Characters: Alastor Moody
Location: Stoatshead
Status: Private
Summary: Alastor is haunted by Seti’s words. He comes to a decision.
Completion: Complete
She really should have known better than to sneak up on him like that. He could have hurt her if he hadn’t known that it was Seti; if he hadn’t been prepared.
That was the conundrum. She trusted him to know that it was her. She trusted in him.
For a moment, back in her apartment, it seemed as if she had understood. It would have been so easy to lay down his burden. To let her in. Gods, he wanted to let her in.
But it was just as he’d told her. Alastor didn’t want to watch the light die in her eyes when she realized he was a monster. When she realized that she couldn’t live with what he was.
It was one thing to flirt with the dark. It was quite another to open your arms to it.
She had said goodnight. It should have been good-bye.
Oh, aye, he’d heard her words. Moody knew that she was a strong woman, a capable woman. A beautiful woman; a beauty so much deeper than her face.
And all she was asking of him was that he trust in her the same way.
He just didn’t know if he could. He’d been alone for too long, been too far down the dark path.
Alastor’s steps took him away from Seti, but they did not take him home. The dark streets were a comfort to him, the shadows welcoming arms.
This was where he opened himself, not in the bright light of her warm flat.
This was when the dark could spill out of him like an ink stain across all that he touched.
This was when it was the hardest to be noble.
He remembered that last kiss, remembered her hands on him. That sweet fire…
Sweet fire? Gods, he was losing it. Losing it!
What if that’s what his enemies wanted? What if…
Alastor shook the thought from his head. He knew that Seti would never betray him. He’d fought alongside her. They’d been together the night he’d been injured for the last time.
He had been ready to die; and it would have been a good death. Alastor would have been welcomed to the hearth fire of his ancestors; taken there by the Valkyries…
He wasn’t sure he believed that, but it sounded like the fitting end that he’d worked so hard for. That he deserved. But Alastor had seen too much to believe in fairy tale gods and Valkyrie maidens coming for the faithful…
But Seti? She’d held off the dark. She had held off Death himself until the medi-folk had come.
Alastor had tried to get her to leave then, too. To get her to save herself.
It was almost dawn. The sky was that purpled intensity of that between time as it merged into a pale blue, streaked with the orange of the rising sun.
There would be no rest for him tonight. His mind would not quiet.
There was still so much to do.
It would be a simple matter to ease his troubles with another bottle of that fine, single malt and some paid companionship. To ease the way his body ached with the need of her. She’d fit against him so well…
Maybe he could fuck her out of his head.
Alastor sighed into the darkness. He knew himself well enough to know it wouldn’t be worth the lucre; he’d keep hearing her voice, seeing that hurt on her face…
What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t some sodding Gryffindor to mope about, angsting over his goodness and doing the “right thing”. He was Alastor Bloody Moody. And he was feared for a reason. He was a bad, bad man.
But Alastor had given her an out; he had given her plenty of them, actually.
And Septima Vector, he wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting anything. Not just her flesh, not just to know her from the inside, not just to hear her screaming his name with wisps of her hair clinging to her sweat-soaked skin; her mouth swollen from his kiss.
Oh, he wanted those things. But even more than that, he wanted what they’d had that moment in the street.
She’d touched him. For all to see. Her hand on his shoulder, his back to her. Perfect trust.
He should have ignored the grand old dame when she’d come knocking. Then he would be balls deep and sleeping with Seti in his arms.
“Who are you kidding, old man?” Alastor muttered to himself.
The reality of it would have been much different, he was sure.
He’d be lying there, awake, and wondering when he could leave; knowing every minute he touched her, he was destroying something pure. But storing up visions of her face, what she looked like with moonlight on the alabaster perfection of her skin…
He was still no closer to an answer. He’d talked himself into one there for a moment. And it was what he wanted, that wasn’t a lie.
But it was folly. It could only end badly for both of them.
It was just as well.
He would worship that woman. And even if she could withstand the darkness, what about those who knew that they could use her to get to him?
That was the deciding factor, something he’d only just now considered. They would hurt her to get to him. He needed to stay away from her. He would stay away.
Alastor never should have kissed her. It never should have gone that far. Seti never should have touched him, that innocent offer of comfort between friends.
Twisted. He was twisted. Just look at how he’d twisted it.
But he couldn’t forget that she tasted like summer. Sweet warmth and honey…
Redemption tasted like honey.