It was Moody that found Edgar’s body.

One of the safe houses hadn’t responded during the last round of check-ins, and so the Auror had taken a few people with him to investigate. It had happened a couple of times in the past when someone had wandered away from the radio, lost track of time, or been otherwise engaged, to put it politely (when any day could be your last, the sex was unbelievable), so the man wasn’t too concerned at first. As soon as he’d apparated to a nearby patch of trees, however, he could smell it in the air.

He knew even before he’d stepped into the clearing.

The inferno was quickly engulfing the house, which in turn was caving in on itself as the support beams snapped like twigs, flames reaching all the way to what was left of the roof and up into the night sky. A safe distance away from the blaze, laid out with disturbing care, were several bodies, all of which Alastor recognised immediately. The bastards hadn’t even been trying to cover up their tracks with the fire; it was all purely demonstrative. Look what you’ve allowed to happen…

A lump in his throat, the Auror waved his companions off to scout out the area. They wouldn’t find anything — there were never any traces — but he needed the space. Once everyone had dissipated, he walked slowly over to where the bodies rested and knelt down. They had all suffered various injuries, but most of them seemed to have been finished off with the Killing Curse. Someone had taken the time to lay them down, and they looked so peaceful the man almost wanted to try and shake them up, bark out that they’d gotten careless and wouldn’t get away with it next time…

After several evenings spent together, Ilona realised that if there was one time where Alastor would answer just about anything she asked, it was in those sated moments after they’d had sex. On several occasions she use that time to approach sensitive subjects. His eye, for example, it was in those moments that she got him to open up about it. Of course, even she knew she had to be careful there, focusing more in taking interest in the eye itself and how it worked, rather than what had happened to him and how it had made him feel.

But for the most part, she uses that time to get to know little things about him. Titbits of information that would be completely useless to anyone else, yet she will ask about them anyway and she’ll make a point of remembering his answers.

She asked him to tell her something that she didn’t already know about him. It didn’t have to be overly personal, or even something considered to be exciting. Just anything that she didn’t already know. Naturally, such an out of the blue request had him ask her what she wanted to know. So she asked him what his favourite colour was. And his favourite number. She didn’t want an explanation, or a reason why, just  the two facts on their own.

Rugged.

She’d had no idea what to expect when she had agreed to come out of hiding in order to meet him. Her guard was up, ready to attack if she needed to, ready to flee if it was some sort of trap. She had considered every possibility or at least she thought she had. She expected a fight, an argument at least, but what he had to say stunned her in to silence more than any spell could do.

“Everyone I’ve loved has either died or left me and I’ll be damned if your name is added to that list.”

The words rung in the heavy silence that followed them. She could only stare at him, taken completely aback by an admission that she had been so certain would instead be him personally delivering her last rights. 

There was so many questions she wanted to ask. Why now, why risk so much just for that? Did he love her? Was that what he was trying to tell her? It was such a bold statement, with no context, that she dared not take a single step closer to him. 

“Alastor...” She began eventually, swallowing as she tried to gauge his body language under the darkness of the alley they were in. 

(Future Headcanon) If there was anyone that Narcissa could have turned to during the war, if she was certain that it wouldn’t get herself and her son killed, she would have gone to Alastor. 

At first, it was so easy to lie to him, and to feign complete innocence. Even when he led raids on her home, it took no effort for her to smile as he was once again forced to leave Malfoy Manor empty handed. 

As time went on though, her smile faded, her expression void of any emotion, and she said very little. The more that she knew, that she had overheard, the harder it became to lie to his face. In fact, often was the case that she had to make herself believe what she was saying first before she could say it out loud. On several occasions, just before he left, she had called him back when she knew no one was around to hear here. Wanting desperately to give him even a sliver of information that could help him, even just a single word, but for the sake of her son, she never did. Instead, making some snide remark to cover the fact that she had even considered telling him anything. 

“Alright...” Ilona replied after a moment of furrowing her brow at him. After another pause, she eventually shifted back towards him until she was close enough for him to wrap an arm around her. 

“Has your sister been nagging at you again? Or have you been drinking? Because just the other week you proposed that I had your children, and now you’re suddenly saying you want to marry me..?”