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plotted starter.     /     @aurorborne​​  ( alastor moody. )

          SHE HOLDS A THICK FILE IN HER HAND,a folder bulky with documents, photographs, and newspaper clippings she’s collected over the past two days. Emmeline feels a nervous energy thrumming through her as she stands outside of Alastor Moody’s office, her first assignment as an Auror clenched between her fists. She takes a deep, steadying breath, takes hold of the knocker, and brings it down twice. After a moment, she goes to open the door.

         “Sir?” Emmeline asks, stepping into the room with polite hesitation. “I have the uh – files you requested? About the werewolf attack in Warwickshire?” She has no idea why she’s speaking in questions. “Should I leave this here or – I mean, is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

The auror leaned forward in his office chair while his fingers drummed on the desk as he thought. He was hunched over his own paperwork, studying over facts when he heard the knock at the door. At the sound, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he was mildly startled by the noise. Relief flooded over him and he could feel mild tension leave his shoulders, but his eyes remained stern as Emmeline stepped through the door. Damn it. What time was it?

If he asked about family, Abberline knew that squibs were often isolated from the rest, plus he wasn’t close to other family members outside of his wife and a few cousins. His parents died many years ago. 

“I was thinking any books about magical creatures that reside in England. If a clan of vampires suddenly show up in London, I’d rather know how to deal with it.” And yes, Abberline did indeed see it as a fair trade. “Follow me then.”

Scotland Yard was basically the muggle equivalent to the Aurors like Moody. Detectives who focused on all crimes worked here, from missing people to homicides like Abberline. Although called New Scotland Yard, the place had been open since the late 1800s. 

Abberline’s office was on the third floor and thankfully his own receptionist was on her lunch break by the time the pair arrived. He held the door open for Moody before closing it behind him. “Alright, he or she is up there.” He pointed to the makeshift cage the dragon was inside, on top of the cupboard full of locked away case notes. 

“I’ve got the perfect book for you,” Alastor said upon arriving as they climbed the stairs to Frederick’s office He was nodding lightly to himself and biting at his bottom lip in thought as he had been considering the other’s request the entire trip there. “It’s a general book but it has lots of information on what to do with various beasts and the like. I haven’t had a run in with a vampire, but it certainly has a bit of info on that,” he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve dealt with Boggarts and Banshees on the occasion, but no vampires fortunately.”

Upon being directed where the dragon sat, Alastor stepped closer towards the cage, tilting his head slightly. “Aren't you a beautiful one?” Alastor prompted the creature as he held out a flat palm towards the tiny dragon that hissed out at him apprehensively. A bit of boyish excitement flashed across the wizard’s face briefly. He had seen them in books and once at a circus as a boy, but he hadn’t ever really encountered or handled a dragon before. He only knew what he had remembered from Care of Magical creatures and this creature was definitely a —

“I’m not trying to score brownie points with you, Moody,” Relia immediately retorted, flashing him the same dark-eyed look everyone (including her parents) got when they tried to snap at her the first (and only) time. It was like a repeat of her fourth year, when her House had practically disowned her–at least, until she’d proven to be useful on the Quidditch pitch. Unfortunately, she was fairly sure that things work out at her new job the same way. “I can get the papers out and alphabetize if you’ll let me. Unpacking can wait.”

That being said, she made her way to her new partner’s side and carefully, cleanly re-opened the filing cabinet. “I don’t blame you for the files; nothing’s ever over, or we wouldn’t exist.” In two quick trips, hugging the files to her chest, she got them all out of the first drawer and to her desk. “And by the way, my name might be Aurelia Lane, but I prefer Relia Lane.” She was already seated, opening a file, and not meeting Moody’s eyes. Serves him right.

Ah, Moody it was going to be then. Alastor was hardly surprised with his callous attitude, after all half the department addressed him has that anyway. “I never said or thought you were,” he growled out as his eyes watched her move about the office, plucking the paperwork from what was now their filing cabinet. “But there is a time and place to discuss the weather, and the Ministry is certainly not one of those places.”

Alastor didn’t seem to be bothered or even remotely perturbed by what the older auror would consider pouting. He wasn’t trying to be an ass, he was trying to be safe. Although she wouldn’t meet his eyes, his tone didn’t waver as he approached her desk to snag a few of the manila folders from it to go through them himself, after all he wasn’t going to assign her something that he wouldn’t help her with. “It’s just because I haven’t turned some of these in,” he admitted, “And I’m certainly to blame for that.”

“Perhaps one day, but in our line of work, I’m not sure it’ll ever come to fruition truly.” Dorcas may have had a knack for this, but so did Alastor, a prized partner really, one whom she couldn’t imagine anybody trying to poison, and yet, here they were, doing some dark work indeed, making nothing but enemies in their path.

She only let back a soft chuckle, assuming the position of her cup back on the table before her and let a shrug roll off her shoulders. “I’d hope you’d avenge anybody trying to poison one of us, but, then again, so would I; ruining a cup being the real crime and such.” The young woman merely rolled her eyes in dismay. “The paperwork trail wouldn’t kind to you either. Seems we ought to just count our blessings and call it a good cuppa.”

“Don’t get too optimistic,” he grumbled as he thanked the waitress that came by to drop off warm sliced bread that Alastor also found himself skeptical of.  It was unfortunate that their afternoon meal would have to be plagued with poison checks and the like. Most of the time they found it was easier to laugh, to make jokes about the dangerous lives that they executed.

“Disastrous, I mean what kind of person” he chuckled before his expression darkened, his tone now becoming serious. “They’d find themselves in Azkaban faster than you can say dementor, but I think it’ll take more than a cup of tea to take either of us down,” he said before his voice lowered out of consciousness of those around him. “Voldemort himself would have to be the end of me,” he said with a with a small wink before taking a sip from his own cup. He exhaled contently at the sweetness of it before his eyes moved back over to his partner “I’m really hoping that things keep quiet today, I’m in no mood for a chase,” he grunted out. “Especially after last week, Travers had me running ragged.”

@aurorborne​ said: “Good Heavens! Why did I marry?”  to MARLENE

          blue eyes go wide with faked alarm. “wait a moment, wait a moment…” eyes go from wide to narrowed, a caricature of focus. “you’re married? to a person? not to, say, your career or something, but truly actually ring-on-your-finger married?” she leans back in her chair, still grinning as she looks over at him. “huh. you really can keep a secret.” 

MADAME BOVARY : ACCEPTING

Alaric had always tried to slow his hands and tried to be sure he had some spare pens on him much preferring to always be prepared of course he had learned that skill quite young, always try to be a step ahead, always know what’s around you, always be prepared, living with a mum that didn’t take care of him and a father that would at any moment try and rid him and his wife of having a child under their roof. He smirked and silently chuckled rubbing the back of his neck and checking for spare supply in his bag as he thought of it.

“Oh I remember but I don’t recall ever saying they were completely off the table. I’m still positive I can find a recipe with vegetables you end up loving and I will forever remind you of it.” He wrote. Alaric was always one to remember things like that, what others might consider small he remembered. To him, nothing was too little, the small things, preferences and mannerisms said a great deal about a person, and when it came to his friends, Alaric remembered it all

“Person?” He wrote wondering if it was just one person or a family, if it was one person he felt his stomach drop, If the family was out searching it could only add to the numbers, “who did it get assigned to instead?” He scribbled with pressure on the parchment. Already his foot was near tapping on the floor. His eyes scanned over all the other stacks noticing how any papers they held and sighed frowning.

“Yes, a boat that got sent adrift when it was close to an island .” He wrote staring at the files. “I suppose,” he wrote shrugging. “It’s peaceful sometimes really ” Biting his lower lip. “I.. went to investigate a home of a family that was attacked, when I was supposed to return back. So here I am” he wrote eyebrows raised and arms up letting the papers fall back down on his desk.

Alastor’s eyes flickered over the scribbled words before letting out an amused chuckle. He supposed Alaric was right about that, there were some vegetables that Alastor found acceptable, but in general, Alastor was more of a meat eater. “Not all of them are bad, but most of them are bad. Cabbage is okay, lettuce and spinach however belong in the garbage. It’s going to have to be a really fantastic veg dish, but you cook well so you might just surprise me. And I know I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He shifted through a few folders that had been thrown in a wire basket, his shoulders slouching as he leaned back, his brow furrowed as he flipped through the plethora of work. His eyes moved briefly to read over what Alaric had written. “Person,” he emphasized. “Which makes me wonder if her husband is lying, or if we have a genuine missing person on our hands. Either way, I can’t be too worried about that right now and neither can you,” he said, jerking his head towards the paperwork that sat on Ric’s desk. He was frowning, but his usually intense eyes were soft with concern, mostly for Alaric’s sake. “It sounds like you’ve got enough on your plate as it is. But the case is Shacklebolt’s now and I’m sure he’ll do a thorough job, he always does.”