━ talinov, alyosha.

Alyosha had admittedly arrived late. Having attended the summer solstice festival countless times before in his tenure as a member of the Wizengamot, he knew what to expect -- even when Bagnold crowed that this one would be bigger and better than ever before. Most of it would be during the day which, while not harmful, was less than ideal. A big portion of the grounds would be dedicated to food it wasn’t worth trying. And lots of activities would aimed at children, of which he had none. But he still came, just as oranges and pinks streaked their way through the sky. He stopped and greeted familiar faces as he walked through the twisting fair paths, from near the nature pavilion to the food stalls and further. It was near the Whispering Willow that he spotted Melaina’s familiar face – delicate features framed by platinum hair.

being apart for so long had been absolutely agonizing, and yet, achille had missed alyosha more in those few seconds than he had the entire time he had been away. he was only gone for a few short seconds, taking care of a necessary formality, and yet it felt as if their reunion had been tragically interrupted. 

and almost as soon as he had gone, he was back, a sly grin appearing across his face as he grabbed ahold of his partner and apparated away. they landed with a soft thud, never letting go as they resumed their embrace. a smile appearing across achille’s face as he enthusiastically returned his partner’s kiss. 

“oh, i like the sound of that,” he mused, gently biting down on his lip as he pushed towards the other, “i love you too.”

The door unlocked with a click. A quickly muttered “lumos” bathed the flat in warm light before Alyosha half-beckoned, half-dragged Achille inside. It hadn’t changed since Achille left. The style remained elegant, sophisticated, and just a little regal; it was furnished with expensive and antique furniture and décor. “Welcome home,” he said sweetly.

He flicked his wrist and the door shut behind them. Alone, finally, although it had been a miniscule amount of time since they’d reunited. Alyosha had lived hundreds of years. He’d learned patience dozens of times over. But the moments between seeing Achille again and getting here had felt agonizingly slow.

Damocles nodded. He didn’t doubt what Alyosha said. In fact, he expected it. Whether it was luck or something else that allowed them to meet, the potioneer was grateful nonetheless. “I understand. Really.” Damocles’s lips turned into a half-smile that made him look sheepish. “If I’m being quite honest, it might just get more hectic given how we’re progressing with the potion.”

He sat down just as Alyosha did. Sitting was a good idea, even though the vampire has no clue yet what’s plaguing Damocles. “Urgent yes.” He grimaced. The potioneer was painfully aware that what happened to his brother was not his news to share. But if Damocles couldn’t share it with one of the most powerful vampires in London who was also sponsoring him to create a potion that could help vampires everywhere, then who can he share it with? “It involves… uh… Family.” Damocles looked at the vampire carefully as he formulated his answer. The honest answer was… yes. It would affect everything about the potion and Damocles’ procedures. Everything means a lot more to Damocles now that he has something personal on the line. “I don’t think so. Like you said. It’s only motivating me to perfect it as much as I can now that… I have someone who is…” Damocles can’t seem to finish his sentence. He held his hands together just to stop them from shaking. 

Alyosha paused for a moment as he processed what Damocles had said; then, his lips curved and he nodded. “Yes, I can imagine. All the interview and statement requests – reporters to demanding to know more. To know everything. Was that it was like when you released the wolfsbane potion?” he asked. He sucked in a breath he didn’t need. “If press is something you don’t want to deal with, I can handle it.”

A salty breeze caressed his cheeks and ruffled his hair. Alyosha’s eyes cracked open, greeted by the last rays of a setting sun. It was a surprisingly nice day and he’d had the luck of calling on an expert who lived in a mixed magical-muggle beach town. When the meeting ended, he’d chosen to delay his return to London and head to wix-only section of the beach. He’d slipped off his shoes and padded barefoot into the sand. The beach was a luxury he rarely indulged in. These days, children grew up with annual vacations to the sand and sea. He hadn’t, and then when he finally had the ability to go, there was a bit of an issue with it. Primarily: the sun. Not much of an issue right now.

who: open starter. where: the ministry. when: april 21, 1983.

If anyone asked, Edgar was here for the cafeteria. The more obvious answer would be Moody, of course, but he felt like that was too obvious. As if the Death Eaters would know exactly why he was really here, and what lay in his chips basket. Besides, he saw more Order members in the cafeteria, and the food was decent. The house elves reminded him of Hogwarts’ food, in many ways, and there was no debating the overall superiority of Hogwarts’ house elves. They were cooks, truthfully, and Edgar wished that they got the freedom they deserved. Maybe this war could bring some relief for them, as well, he hoped. Maybe this war would start something new.

Of course, with Millicent’s recent expose, things had not been going quite to plan. She seemed to be pulling away from the Order, more into the hands of the Death Eaters, and Edgar couldn’t help but wonder why. There was some legislation on the floor at the moment that was cause for concern, but for now, he was here to be a warning for another attack. He looked up at the person who approached his table and grinned, “Would you like a chip, mate?” he asked, pushing the basket forward. “Best in London, if y’ask me. But don’t tell the Leaky I said that… I quite like their pot pies and don’t want to get their britches all in a bunch over the fact their crisps aren’t good.”

...

Alyosha was a rare sight in the cafeteria. He didn’t like working through lunch, but what was a middle of the day lunch break to a vampire? Closest thing the ministry served to his dietary requirements was blood pudding at breakfast. Generally unappealing. So, when he did show his face, it was for work related reasons. Like getting Flint’s signature on a proposal he was scheduled to introduce at two this afternoon. And if he took a few minutes after to socialize, so be it.

“I didn’t know you experience such lulls in the first place,” Damocles confessed. A man his stature probably had a thousand businesses to attend to. He figured free time for the vampire only came once in a blue moon. But the potioneer wasn’t about to complain. The sooner he could consult with Alyosha, the better.

“I’m quite surprised too. If I’m quite honest, I wasn’t projecting any real progress until at least six more months,” he continued as he ushered the vampire in. Damocles didn’t bother to offer the vampire any refreshments. By now, he’s gotten quite used to the fact. All to his benefit really. He would love to get to the point right away. 

Damocles led them straight to his office. “Make yourself comfortable,” he muttered before going back to the matter in hand. “I suppose you could say something happened that made figuring it out a lot more…” The potioneer searched for the word to use. “Urgent.”

“It’s a rare occasion, I admit.” He kept and worked long, strange hours. Strange even for a vampire. Between trials, meetings, reading and writing proposals – his schedule was pack. In this case, a meeting had been cancelled, and he’d already planned to go home at a reasonable hour. Achille was back, after all. Now, he might even get home early – Damocles was unlikely to take as much time as the lobbyist who’d cancelled.

“i figured,” achille responded, a small laugh escaping from his lips. though, he hoped the conversation of charlotte would end there. he wanted to enjoy a brief moment of bliss before having to tell alyosha about the dinner he’d promised in exchange for charlotte agreeing to end her bidding. but that would come later, after they spent some quality time together. he returned the kiss with enthusiasm, moving closer to his partner in the process.

although reluctant to end the kiss, achille realized it wasn’t the most appropriate place for such an act. “not a day went by where i didn’t wish i was here with you,” he mused, a small smile appearing across his face as he pecked the other’s lips. “i look forward to it,” he whispered, “i’ll be back.”

he wasn’t gone long, practically throwing the pouch of galleons at the poor bloke who’d gotten stuck collecting the bids. normally he wouldn’t have been so hasty, but alyosha’s promise lingered on his mind. “now, what was that you wanted to show me?” he asked his partner, wrapping his arms around alyosha before apparating them to the privacy.

Alyosha brushed his thumb over Achille’s cheek. He was sure the smile on his face would be described as goofy, dopey, happy. It was a smile he didn’t wear often, but Achille was different. Special. “Be quick,” he whispered, stepping back, his hand falling to his side. Alyosha’s fingers tingled, a yearning for lost warmth as he watched Achille slip away to settle the bid.

When Achille returned, Alyosha had grabbed his cloak and schooled his expression. More reserved, but there were cracks in the veneer. A tug at his lips he couldn’t fully fight. Achille was making haste; Alyosha didn’t have a chance to respond before apparition twisted their insides and deposited them on the doorstep of Alyosha’s flat.

Moody laughed. “I don’t think I’ve had ‘worker’s morale since the 60s. At least parties were a little better than. Or worse, depending on your perspective.” He looked around the room. “At least they seem to spend less money now.”

“I wouldn’t exactly be upset if they cut it all together. At least that means we’d never have to come one of these again. I could just do my work in peace.” He looked around. It was nice to have a break every once in a while, but this wasn’t the way he’d choose to do it. “If anything, that would increase it. Give any reason to boost spirits.”

Alyosha tried to think back to Ministry parties back in the 60s. He’d been in the Wizengamot then as well. Unfortunately, the memories bled together. He’d been to so many parties, galas, shindigs, and get togethers over the year that they had to particularly memorable to stand a chance at recall even a few years later. “At least? They makes it sound like a good thing. Money is everything in a party, but a goes long way at improving the experience.” There was an implied trust me, I know.

where: Damocles’ office who: Damocles Belby and Alyosha Talinov ( @talinovs​ )

When Alyosha first came to his office, Damocles was cautious but still very much excited about the prospect of inventing another potion that could improve the lives of so many beings. But even though it could be his next big creation, Damocles didn’t slave on it as much as he did when he was first starting to create wolfsbane. With a lot more knowledge and experience under his belt, Damocles grounded his creative process with realism and managed expectations. 

That was all before he found out that his brother became a vampire. One that’s struggling to remain in control. 

Damocles’ obsession with his work returned. He’s been finding himself staying awake for long hours. The potioneer haven’t had as little sleep since he perfected the wolfsbane potion. Soon enough, it paid off. Damocles estimated that it would be finished in two weeks. He let Alyosha know as soon as possible and asked for them to meet. 

When he finally heard a knock on his door, Damocles himself opened the door to welcome the vampire. “Hello. Thank you for coming. I was surprised that you were able to come right away.”

Alyosha had come to Damocles with no guarantee the potioneer would accept the job nor any idea about how long it would take if he did. The vampire just wasn’t an expert in the field – thus why he’d gone to one. But considering the interviews about the wolfsbane potion he’d brushed up on before seeking out Damocles, he’d expected longer than a few months. A year or two, at least. He wasn’t going to complain if Damocles was right, but maybe he’d ask a few questions.

Arriving not too long after he’d received the potioneer’s letter, he stood waiting on the porch, sunlight prickling his skin. It didn’t hurt, not as it once had, though Alyosha would be hard-pressed to call it pleasant. Fortunately, Damocles didn’t make him wait long, opening the door and inviting him inside.

“Quite fond of them. Especially ones with soft lips, French accents, and a key to my flat.”

achille’s original plans had involved him returning to london AFTER valentine’s day, but then he heard about the carnival and a certain someone’s participation in the bachelor auction, and well, things had changed. of course, he didn’t tell alyosha about the change in plans, that would have ruined the surprise. 

of course things hadn’t gone according to plan- but he’d never been one to rely too heavily on plans, he enjoyed the unexpected. and five hundred galleon bidding war was certainly unexpected, especially to those who knew him and charlotte- meaning alyosha. the subject of their bidding war, his partner, the only person he had ever truly love and the reason for his return to the isles. 

“very,” he breathed, a smile spreading across his face as swatted the curtain out of his way, as he stepped closer to the taller male. “not entirely,” he admitted with a laugh, “charlotte has a flair for the dramatics,” he mused, stepping forward to place a hand on aly’s chest. “i just wanted to surprise you,” he admitted, before leaning in to kiss his partner. 

“That’s not new information to me,” Alyosha mused under his breath, seconds before Achille’s lips met his. He closed his eyes, hooking an arm around his partner’s waist, thoughts of Charlotte and her dramatics disappearing into darkness. His warmth, his scent, his kiss… It was a familiarity that soothed an ache in his chest Alyosha hadn’t realized was there. Alyosha kissed him with a gentle hunger and parted reluctantly.

Moody was sure no one enjoyed the Ministry parties, but some were at least better at hiding it than Moody was. He had been working at the Ministry for a long time, so these things had lost all the use they had to him years ago. He no longer needed to do any networking or show face to impress people. Yet, he still felt some unnamed pressure to attend.

“I’m not sure if they should say they outdid themselves. That sounds like a compliment, but unfortunately I think this was their goal.” He smirked. “I guess it’s better than blowing a bunch of money that could be better spent elsewhere. But then why even hold this at all?” He found himself talking a lot more than he expected he would. He was quick to formulate opinions about things and he supposed bad Ministry parties were no exception to that rule.

“Maybe I’ll be dead before that happens,” he said. It was meant to be a joke, but it carried more weight than he expected it too. Maybe because that still didn’t carry an exact timeline with it. 

“Networking? Tradition? Worker moral?” Alyosha barely managed to hold onto his straight face as he offered the third option. He could hazard a guess what Moody thought of it, but he waited to see what sort of response it would elicit from the seasoned auror.

Who: @talinovs​

Where: Ministry Holiday Event

Moody had spent over a decade trying to get out of these things. And yet, someone always seemed to convince him to go. It used to be his superiors, telling him that exceptional work in the field didn’t mean much if he couldn’t back it up with connections. Then colleagues wanting him to loosen up. Then younger Aurors looking to him for advice or comfort (or wanting him to loosen up). He wasn’t quite sure what his excuse was this year. Maybe it was because large gatherings seemed to be all the rage with dark activity that year.

What was perhaps the worst about these events is they happened after most of the major holidays, well into the new year. The decorations never knew which holiday to celebrate in what he was sure they claimed as an attempt to be inclusive but what he was sure was an excuse to cover the slapdash planning the Ministry usually had for these sorts of things.

He would stay for about half the time allotted, just to make sure the right people saw him and then he would sneak away (most likely to go do work, but he wouldn’t admit that to anyone). 

Moody turned to the first person who joined him at his spot along the far wall. When he saw it was Alyosha Talinov, he felt himself loosen up slightly. If anyone knew their way around one of these, it was Talinov. “I think one year, they’re going to hang a bauble on the spoon at the punch bowl and call that decorating. Any bets on how many years that’ll take?”

...

Of all the parties, events, and gatherings that Alyosha regularly frequented, those hosted by the Ministry were always the least exciting. He doubted it was because all the guests were coworkers; he saw many of the same faces at those other get-togethers. Perhaps it was just because it was undeniably a work event, even though schmoozing and networking happened at the other ones too.

Regardless, he attended when he was available, which was often as whoever was in charge of scheduling seemed to instinctually pick dates that more sensible hosts avoided. They also picked décor out of the bargain bin and hired catering that could best be described as mediocre. Not that he was one to have much of an opinion on food. The only thing that would’ve tasted good to Alyosha was something they unsurprisingly didn’t serve.

Upon arriving at tonight’s event, he was quick to start his rounds around the room, armed with a too-sharp smile and the words of someone who’d been doing this for a long, long time. He spoke to fellow members of the Wizengamot, but also to employees from the Ministry departments – from tight-lipped unspeakables to galleon-counters in accounting. Eventually, Alyosha found himself along the wall and side-by-side with an auror who obviously didn’t want to be there.

The auction tent buzzed with excitement as the next bachelor up stepped onto the stage. In contrast, Alyosha felt like a boat untethered and set adrift as he thanked one of the organizers and found himself alone backstage. Of course, Alyosha had volunteered – it was good fun and good publicity, and that was before his date had gone for five hundred galleons. Before Charlotte and Achille had practically gone to war over him. Charlotte was unsurprising. Achille was, given Alyosha hadn’t even known his partner was back on British shores.

“A secretary?” Perfectly sculpted brows rose in surprise but her mouth betrayed her disappointment. “Oh my poor Alyosha,” her voice dropped low so those around might not hear, and she slipped into Imperial Russian, a language she’d always felt belonged to him. “Have you become so neglectful of your abilities you can no longer keep track of your own time? Those mundane little mortals you favor will do that to you, I believe I’ve told you this often.”

It was a scolding designed as concern, and maybe a part of her genuinely was concerned. With the seemingly unending amount of time she’d been gifted Charlotte had sought all the magic and knowledge that that been denied and suppressed in her mortal life. She’d learned things in the centuries since that Alyosha’s professors at school couldn’t consider in their wildest day dreams. What a pity it was, that he’d wasted his years as a lapdog for a slowly crumbling dynasty.

“We certainly have,” Charlotte smiled serenely, “he has the most darling son who absolutely adores us both, I’d almost forgotten how much I love children.” There it was, the tiny hint of sincerity she deployed like a weapon to see how much of their time together he’d blocked out. Would he remember how she spoke of her own daughter, her own flesh and not just blood, taken from her far too soon? Or simply see the sinister monster he wished to believe she was?

“You have nothing to fear from me, nor I you.” The Russian was back, harsh against the smile on her face. “It’s time to clear the air, don’t you think?”

...

It was an insult. It may have been spoken with concern, spoken in a language and a pitch just for him, but it was an insult. But of course, it’s what came from Charlotte, with her preferences, with her apathy, with her disdain for mankind. Even if Alyosha should’ve expected it, the red hot coil that flared in his stomach should’ve been equally predictable to her. When he spoke, her switched to the same Imperial Russian, flawlessly at home on his tongue. “I am merely busy. I have work, I have commitments, and I have things to do. We maybe be immortal, but even our days are still limited to twenty-four hours.”

What would she know of work? What would she know of getting lost in proposals? Of having a never ending block of meetings, one after the other? She would scoff. She wouldn’t want to know. Or at least, that was how he’d always understood Charlotte. She was freedom as much as she was chaos. And just as he’d rebuked her definition of chaos, he rebuked her definition of freedom. His time was scheduled. His hands were bound by the laws he made. But he had chosen then, just as he had chosen to take her offer of immortality so many years. Just as he had chosen not to be her lapdog, but someone else’s – as she would say, probably.

His nose crinkled when she mentioned her new pet had a child, but any biting retort he might muster died on his tongue. Charlotte was chaos and cruelty and some shade of evil. But he remembered dark nights alone, quiet, candlelit where they spoke in hushed tones of their vulnerabilities, their dreams, and their truths. Of her past, too. (His was meaningless in comparison to hers. Short. Insignificant.) It was there in his mind to suggest she’d do some untoward to the boy. To hurt him as she’d hurt countless. But he didn’t. “You did,” he said, measured. “I have not forgotten.”

Ash in a lot of ways wasn’t afraid of most things. Fear was something you either clung to when you lost the people that mattered the most to you, or it’s something you lost with them. Sure the other could do something, and it would be annoying and perhaps painful, but Ash wasn’t in a position to care much about it. 

So instead he nodded slightly as he walked turning his back to the other to better navigate the halls and lead them correctly. 

“We’re fairly sure no one’s gotten too lost in awhile at least.” Ash said, not quite sure if that was fully accurate. “It is very interesting although I can’t tell you how they work very well. Just that they do. I think it’s something to do with the type of transmitters we use and the wavelengths that we have. Luckily it doesn’t seem like the Muggles have ever caught the wavelengths so that’s at least good.” 

...

It was hard not to notice when someone turned their back on him. It wasn’t rare per se, but it was noticeable because of how noticeable it was when someone didn’t. When someone didn’t trust him enough to not keep him in their line of sight. Unfortunately, he worked with a number of people like that. Not all, not even in a majority of the Wizengamot, but enough that he couldn’t forget it.

With that answer, Damocles could already tell that he would appreciate working for the vampire. He was far from the first person who approached him to solve a problem. But a lot of them have unreasonable expectations that they thought Damocles could easily achieve given his past success with the wolfsbane. They didn’t even consider how long it took for him to get anywhere near success with its creation. “It is. You could expect me to be nothing but honest moving forward. Somehow, I doubt you’ll have any difficulty doing the same.” 

The potioneer’s smile was humble. Truth be told, what people saw now as dedication and discipline, a lot of people referred to as obsession back when his project was nowhere near completion. And they would have been right. “Thank you.” Damocles’ nodded. While he tells himself that remaining humble was important, he still tried to appreciate it every time someone congratulated him. “I am. To be completely honest with you, just knowing that I’ve created something that improved the lives of people is what I’m really proud of.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Alyosha did have a point. Vampires, unlike werewolves, were always self-aware. But their own curse is that their cravings were more constant as opposed to the werewolves who were only slaves to their inflictions once a month. A potion that would suffice as a substitute for blood should only make everyone’s lives safer. Damocles was slightly worried when Alyosha brought up testing it on humans, but relief immediately flooded him when the vampire continued and clarified what he meant. “That’s correct. Testing them on people would be inevitable once we get to that stage. But by then, we would already have a possible hypothesis regarding what would happen if a human were to ingest the potion. Ideally nothing, but harmless side-effects shouldn’t be a complete deal-breaker.”

...

“I’ve found little use for lies in business partnerships,” he said. He was not opposed to dishonesty when necessary – and it was occasionally necessary – but not in situations like this. “It’s good that we’ve covered this.

He smiled with humility, but Alyosha appreciated that he wasn’t downplaying his successes. There was humility and then there was insecurity; at the very least, Damocles didn’t appear prone to public displays of the latter. It was a small thing to add to the growing pile of good reasons to work with Damocles Belby. “It is a wonderful thing. Regardless of its flaws, you’ve done more than countless people have considered doing.”