Alexander Seo

Going out alone had never been one of his favourite things in the world. Tilden was quiet, shy and a little awkward. Having somebody with him made things easier and more comfortable, but as he was leaving the radio station earlier in the day, a poster had caught his attention and he spent all afternoon contemplating it. There was a show for a singer he’d heard on the radio plenty of times, Tilden liked his music and wanted to meet the man behind the voice, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go out on his own.

Ultimately, he decided he’d just go for a little bit. Getting a free ticket thanks to the radio station, it only made sense. Tilden was in the back of the bar alone with a drink, sitting quietly and watching as people piled into the bar to see the show. It was busier than he expected it would be, was this singer more popular than he realized? Usually he didn’t pay much attention to what was playing on the radio, typically preferring muggle music. It wasn’t long before the show started, and the moment the music started, Tilden was completely enraptured by the performance.

At some point Tilden had left his seat and ended up at the front of the crowd, enjoying himself more than he initially expected he would. Unfortunately it ended sooner than he expected, and he thought he might press his luck by trying to go back stage. The bouncer at the door stopped him, but after explaining he was with the radio station, he was let into the back where he’d found Alex. Not knowing what to say as he approached, feeling very out of his comfort zone, Tilden simply smiled at the other man, “Hey - uh, I enjoyed your show.”

-

Only small venues, places they could control, all entrances and exits covered. It’d taken some doing, but this was now one such place. Aurors, in plainclothes, were interspersed with the audience listening to him sing. It’d been too long. Between the threats to his safety and a rather eye opening session with Remiel, Alexander felt a stranger to himself and in desperate need of something safe. Something familiar. Something he could grab onto and run with knowing what every inch of the road would look like.

For him, that was a stage. Alexander wasn’t needed in this space, he could regress into the quiet dark at the back of his mind and instead the Siren emerged, full of confidence, flirtatious, an object of desire, someone to be looked at, wanted and who could enthral with so much as a tilt of his head. He’d been asked once if he’d found performing tiring, it seemed a stupid question. This- this was when he was most alive and the post-performance rush was an equally beautiful thing; even in a space as intimate as tonights venue.   

He crooned his final note to a loud applause, bowed, savouring the feeling, and gracefully slide from the stage and over to the bar, some of the braver throng approaching him for conversation. And one, not so brave but certainly enthralled (he could tell the look). “Thank you,” he voice low, sultry, still keyed up from his display, “I enjoyed giving it.” his smile was conspiratorial, as if he’d shared a great secret, “I hope it made your evening a little more exciting,” It was tempting to put an arm onto his new admirer but he held off, instincts were a slippery slope.    

Remiel finds himself frowning at Alex’s series of questions. It occurred to him that the young man had likely done little to question the big ‘whys’ and ‘whos’ of his life. Such was youth. He himself had often stumbled along giving little contemplation to his nature until it was pointed out to him. He had felt old and used up and in chaos before beginning to get a grip on the life he was living and that was only after most of it had been taken from him. Perhaps Alex could avoid those tragedies.     

“You’re spiraling cara mia,” Remi exhales slowly, “I am no one to decide those things for you. I can assure you pride is not a sin unless you let it become vanity. Vanity is the road that leads to doubt and love cannot grow where doubt lives. You have so much time left to figure it out but it never hurts to get an early start. Besides,” he pauses, winking, “a highly doubt a a fame hungry shell of a person with the depth of a paddling pool would worry so much about coming across that way. You’re an artist Alex. You’d be incapable of such a trivial existence. Trust me, I would know. If you need a suggestion on where to start, start with your muse. What inspires you? What brings you hope? Where do you see beauty in the world? Not the mundane things like a nice vase of roses. Real beauty. What makes you stop in your tracks. Maybe it’s a cone-flower growing through the cracks in a sidewalk or pretty face looking down at you from a balcony. Why don’t you put your clothes back on and have a think with a nice glass of wine?”

-

“C-cara what?” Alex repeated, pronouncing the first word as though it were a name. He didn’t understand, still consumed by worry that he was in fact a terrible person despite all his father’s good parenting and his own attempts towards self control. “I don’t-” he exhaled and looked away, suddenly wanting to talk, wanting to confide in this man who seemed to know all the secrets of the world. “My father,” he said as Remiel returned to packing up his paints. Alexander swallowed, holding the cloth over more of himself, “He died during the war, he- he always wanted me to stay humble, to do what I was doing for the right reasons.”

Because he wanted to bring happiness together, because he loved to sing, because he could spread positive messages, use his influence to help people. Was he still doing that? Was posing for a portrait like this something he would’ve approved of? “Many artists passed before their work was appreciated,” he said quietly, “I don’t want to be unnoticed.” He didn’t want to be left alone but... he was, alone. No parents, few (if any) close friends. He only had his fans, he needed to be what the wanted, yes? But then, “Parents.” he said quietly, looking at Remi, trying to convey words he wasn’t ready to speak with gaze alone, “Fathers, mothers.” he swallowed and looked down, still flushing red, “Alright.” his voice scarcely a whisper as he pulled on his robes.

Iris nodded her head slowly. Who was she to tell him any different? Parents and kids relationships were so unique and personal, she didn’t have the right to say absolutely anything. “I’m sure she will, she’s super smart and quick” she said proudly. And hopefully, she would still be as kind and compassionate as she was now.

“I hope so” she sighed, shaking her head slowly before sipping her drink. “I just worry… I feel that’s a perpetual state of mind once you become a parent” or at least a decent parent. “But at the end of the day, Sebastian is still her father, so I don’t know what to expect, it does worry me what people could say to her” she sighed miserably. Iris could take it, she even channeled all her frustration throughout her comedy, but Connie was just a kid.

“What’s a TV?” She frowned, tilting her head to the side. Unlike Alex, she had been raised among purebloods.

-

“And she’s kind,” Alex added, accepting his next drink from the bartender, he should really slow down but there were too many thoughts in his head; right now all he wanted was an evening of good company and fuzzy memories. “She offered to share half of her chocolate frog with me, not many kids’ll do that.” He probably wouldn’t have, Alex had always had a sweet tooth.

“Probably while I’ll never become one,” he said with a quiet snort. He liked kids, liked being around them, singing for them, but he didn’t see any in his future. His father had always wanted grandkids but he was gone now, and Alex didn’t want an innocent little kid to endure the difficulties of being so strongly Veela. Sure he’d made it work to his advantage, but Alex was smart enough to know he was the exception, not the rule.

“Folks’ll say what they’re gonna. Don’t try and hide that from her, prepare her so she can handle it when you’re not there.” he said, putting a hand over hers and rubbing it slightly, being sure to hold back every inch of his allure. He brightened at the change in topic, “TV’s are a muggle entertainment system, think of them like moving portraits you can’t talk to but who act out whole plays in huge worlds for you to watch.”      

“Perhaps,” Remi ventures softly, placing a hand over Alex’s and giving it a comforting squeeze. His voice is the same delicate kindness as a cool breeze on a hot spring day, “you should take some time to think about it? You are more than the unkindnesses committed against you just as much as you are more than the good fortune granted to you.” He lets go of the young man’s hand and rises from his perch beside him. His movements are paced and deliberate as he returns to his easel.  

“I am always here if you need to talk Alex, but today will not be a day for painting,” he peaks around the canvas, polite smile still intact. There’s a gentle click as he locks his paints in their chest. “You understand, I’m sure… an artist must work under the right conditions. I want you to think about what I’ve said. Find what drives you Alex. Who are you when all those tiny graces are gone? Because I’m sure that man is worthy and I can’t wait to meet him. We have a few weeks to complete this project. Why don’t you reach out by owl when you have room in your schedule to try again? Or if you just need to talk.” 

-

Alex’s jaw was hanging open a little bit and his gaze followed the man’s hand, his own twitching slightly as he felt the warm, calloused artist’s hand rest on his own. He didn’t move for few moments, a bubbling of insecurities and worry growing within him that had little to do with being naked and everything to do with feeling like a damn fool. An artist, a master artist thought he didn’t know himself well enough to be worth painting. What did that say about him?

“Am I really that shallow?” he asked abruptly, the veela-temper squelched under the human shame making his voice less than steady, “There’s nothing to me at all apart from the good fortune I’ve had?” he turned his head towards Remi as the older man packed away but didn’t look to meet his gaze, he didn’t feel he’d be able to. “All because I’ve never bothered to look?” Was he that desperate for the perfection of fame and fortune there was nothing left to him now he’d achieved it? Was this why he couldn’t ‘take a few years break’ like his manager had suggested? Why he didn’t know what to do with himself? Because he was a fame-hungry shell of a person with all the depth of a paddling pool!?  

“Let’s hope you don’t have to think that way,” Moody offers firmly. He is far from interested in adding Alex himself to the Azkaban clientele The auror had seen more than his fair share of dark wizards imprisoned there, put a few in himself. Well, current records indicated Alastor Moody had successfully caught the highest number of dark wizards during his career, compared to anyone else in the history of the department so far. It was a success that had landed him his promotion as head auror but not one he bragged about. It had come at a fairly steep price; not one he would ask other people to pay.   

“You asked,” he says with an edge, “you wouldn’t have come if you thought it was a game. You can plead guilt all you want to try and soften the blow of special favors, but at the end of the day you feel threatened. You fear for your life. Those concerns strike me as valid.” Not for the first time though, he lets out a sigh. Alex certainly had a lot of questions regarding the issues around his stalker. But he supposes the kid lacks the same level of experience with such threats as him. There were probably more people who wanted him dead than there were who wanted him alive. Even a few of the auror’s he hand selected for the department would probably be indifferent to him dropping off the map. 

“Again, in controlled scenarios we’ll have you make public appearances. Poisoning doesn’t have to kill you, it can alter your consciousness, make you infatuated, put you to sleep, it can do any manner of things I’m sure were listed in your potions textbook. Which I’m starting to wonder if you read…  does that make sense? If you want my help, I’m not goign to half ass it for your popularity. You have to be committed to your safety just as much as the rest of us or it could all be for nothing.”

-

Alex sighed and looked down. While he internally agreed with Mr. Moody he felt this was his problem and he should be willing to think in whatever way was necessary to solve it. He didn’t want to be a burden, he wanted to stand on his own two feet and be strong. It was what his father wanted and (as far as he chose to believe) what his mother would want too. This feeling of helplessness and fear was almost toxic and while help was needed he hated feeling as though he were being relegated by the wayside, useless to have an input in saving himself.

“Yes but and I both know there was a more delicate way to phrase it.” he sighed. But then, when had Mr. Moody ever phrased anything delicately? Usually it was refreshing, after all in show business everything needed to be said ‘just so’ since the ego’s were humongous and fragile (though he didn’t count himself in that category thank you very much) but right now he wished they could talk like showmen instead of aurors. “Well, thank you for that.” One more double-edged sword in this whole affair, the pleasure of being listened to and the fear that his concerns were very much worth having. “I read the books,” he snapped, an edge to his voice, “Forgive me for not recalling years old revision in the face of a new and terrifying experience.” And there was the beginnings of the temper... he could thank his mother for that.

He was silent for a few moments, breathing in and out, eyes closed, as if he were ignoring Alastor entirely, regaining his grip on his emotions. When he opened his eyes, his softer demeanour had returned, “I understand. And I’ll work with you as instructed doing whatever you believe best to see this situation resolved as quickly and safely as possible.” he rose to his feet, eyes cast down, “I take it we’ll need to liaise with a few other members of your department to beginning planning my schedule out?” The start of a new and, very difficult, portion of his life.    

She could have questioned the hood but Mckenzie wasn’t easily phased. There was too much going on with the children and constant worrying about everything else to be getting nosey. “Four, six, and eight,” She answered. “Although the eight year old is more like an eighteen year old at this point. Too clever for her own good and too much sass for someone under ten.”

-

Alex nodded, pleased the woman didn’t seem put-off by his semi-hidden state; though it seemed to be working, she hadn’t recognised him and while he wasn’t vain enough to assume everyone was a fan, his face was on a lot of moving posters in shop windows these days.

Reining in his Veela instincts at the non-existent slight, he continued, “Have you heard of Roald Dahl? He’s a muggle author but his stories are great, I’ve bought a few of his books for a dear friend’s little one.”

Iris watched the whole scene with amusement. “Are you really flirting with those girls while I am right here?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow. “You are so rude” she joked playfully. She then proceeded to listen to him and frowned. “That sounds horrible” and barbaric, but she didn’t say that last part. She continued to listen to his story and reasoning and nodded her head. He did have a point, but it still sounded so horrible. As a mother, she couldn’t even fanthom the idea of leaving her baby behind. If anything, in a way, Iris lived for her child.

“Ugh, I’m dreading it… although, she is a nice girl, and very smart, I think she’ll do well” she smiled softly. “But it’s so hard to see her grow up that fast, it’s like… when did that happen? And I just keep on asking myself all these questions about her, like… am I doing a good job? Is she going to hate me forever for what happened with Sebastian? I mean, right now she’s still too young to understand…” and is not like Iris was an Order supporter or whatever (though she was not a blood supremacist on the slightest), her real issue was that Sebastian brought the madness to their home, he tortured a young boy in her basement while their four year old daughter was sleeping upstairs. That was something Iris couldn’t forgive.

“We’ll find you a hobby, you’ll see” she chuckled. “Then you better work on that, now that you are here, you’ll have to drop by at home more often, that child requires attention” she grinned.

-

“Hmm?” Alex looked back to Iris and after a moment ducked his head with a quite laugh, “Sorry, it’s force of habit sometimes.” Sometimes if he tried to bury one part of himself for long enough it’d end up bubbling out without him noticing; it was never a concern on tour, he let it out on the stage, now though, he didn’t have that outlet. “It is but, that’s how Veela’s have always been. I have to grateful I wasn’t left alone in the woods for whatever could find me.” He liked to think his Mother was kind, or was kind insofar as a full-blooded Veela could be.

“Maybe she’ll surprise you and do better than well,” he smiled, “Don’t you remember being a kid? We were pretty resilient, I’m sure she’ll be too, even if there’s a few spats.” Which he (privately) was expecting given Iris had a strong personality and, from what he could tell, Connie was developing one too, in a situation like that butting heads was inevitable. “She won’t hate you.” he said with surprisingly certainty, “You and her were in a dangerous situation, you put her first and got them out of it. Maybe there’ll be a point where she’s needless cruel and resentful as teenagers can be but I honestly don’t think so.” he smiled, “You did a brave thing to keep your daughter safe. Never let anyone make you think otherwise.”

“Best of luck to ya,” he smirked, taking another swig of his drink, “If you ever need babysitting let me know, I was raised muggle, got a TV and everything, I reckon she’d get a kick out of watching some shows with me.”

Flourish and Blotts - Diagon Alley

The visit to the bookstore was meant to be purely work related since there was a new anthology she planned on perusing before properly purchasing it. She had found the book in question and left it temporarily forgotten, distracted by new books in the children’s section. Mckenzie made it through three of the books before giving an exasperated sigh. “I can already imagine my kids pointing out all three are too similar,” She grimaced. “Maybe it’s time to seek out  a few muggle ones for a change of pace.”

-

Alexander was being careful, just like Mr. Moody had ordered, there was an Auror in the shop with him and another outside, they had control of the area and he was wearing a robe with the hood up to boot. It all felt over the top, and increased his nerves but, it was necessary, or so the ministry believed. In dire need of a distraction he overheard a woman speaking and looked in close, “Oh? How old are they? I’ve got a friend with an eight year old I’m looking to get something for, I know muggle kids books better than magic ones.”  

Iris listened to him and sighed softly. She didn’t know the circumstances of his abandonement. “I can’t speak on behalf of your mother, but I do know that motherhood is hard and exhausting and definitely not for everyone” she said softly. “I know this will sound harsh, but you are better off like this. It’s better to not have your mother around if she was not ready or if she was going to be horrible to you” she told him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You should never go after the love of someone who can’t give it to you, because it will only break your heart” and she knew all about that.

“Yeah, I mean… Sebastian is not going to be around anymore, so I think Connie is trying to fill that void as well. With my dad mostly, but she seems to pay attention to random men who give her some attention” she admitted. “I mean, right now is innocent, but let’s hope she doesn’t keep that mindset when she’s a teenager. Iris’ eyes moved to the stage and she chuckled. “It’s funny because I never thought about it before actually getting on stage” she confessed. “I mean, I was in the school choir” she admitted, remember how she stood there, holding that large toad in her arms as they all sang.

She couldn’t help but to roll her eyes. “Not with that attitude” she told him, giving him a look. “We’ll just keep on looking, you’ll end up in a knitting club making cut outfits for tabby cats” she teased playfully. Iris then blushed softly when he complimented her and her talent. “You are too kind, Alex…” she responded with a gentle smile. “Connie will be over the moon to have you visitng us” she grinned.

-

Alexander looked over to her and laughed quietly, shaking his head and tittering over the drink before throwing it back, “I’m sorry,” he wiped his lip with a thumb, drawing the eye of a group of young ladies at the other end of the bar; out of habit, he winked and several blushed, ducking their chins. “I don’t mean to laugh it’s just, once I realised what I was everything about her made perfect sense.” he paused a beat, “Ever noticed there’s no such a thing as a full-blooded male Veela? When a Veela mates with a human and has a daughter, she’s akin to her mother, in some cases she’s mostly human, in others she’s full Veela. Boys though, are never full Veela, they’re usually left to die since they’ll be of no use to the group.”

He gestured for another drink and continued, “But I wasn’t left to die, so I think she did love me, or she loved my father, as much as she could allow herself.” A small smile graced his lips, “And that helped.” he took his refill and moved the conversation along, doubting Iris would find talk of parents leaving their children appealing, “Things always get worse when they’re teens, I’m not envying you in that one.”

“Me too,” he smirked, “I bewitched half my classmates before Professor Flitwick realised what was going on; he cast a silence charm on me and got me to Professor Dumbledore; a few days later I knew what I was. And I also know that knitting is not going to be my hobby.” he added with finality, “No I’m just honest,” he grinned, “I’m going outta my way to be the only man she’ll ever love.” he teased.        

Andromeda chuckled at the blush, he might be used to people knowing him on the spot, but Andromeda tried so hard to focus on her husband and the happiness of her kid that she had little time for pop culture. Dora would probably mock her. 

“I’m sorry, I try to spend my free time with family, it’s been a while since I’ve bought a record for myself.” she admitted adjusting his blanket, “I would hunch over if I were you, just to make sure that they don’t recognise you from your walking.” she offered, before looking at the charts, finding the room and the details. “Oh, so you are the one she blasted last Christmas’ break.” she chuckled at the irony, “You don’t have to do anything, you are right, you need to visit the people you love and shouldn’t have to deal with the people trying to rip your clothes apart. I’m sure your friend just wanted to make you feel at ease, but if it were me I would worry even more.”

She took the chart and motion him to follow her to the room, “Her name is Nymphadora, but she hates it, I feel I did wrong as to name her after my great aunt.” she joked, looking around to see that the fangirls weren’t around. She appreciated the thought of wanting to do something for her, but she felt bad for taking advantage of someone just visiting a loved one. “Don’t mention it, I’m sure your friend will be glad to see you.

-

Maybe he still was a little egotistical, despite doing his best to remain humble, to be what his father had wanted. But it was hard, it was so hard; he was addicting to performing, to the admiration and when he didn’t get it, try as he might, it still stung his pride.

Of course, then he felt about about feeling stung, hence the blush. “No, it’s quite alright,” he said with a slight gesture, “I can’t expect everyone to know me, that isn’t possible.” He did perk up a little at the mention of how much the woman’s daughter seemed to enjoy his music, but forced himself to quickly duck down again when she told him to, “Right, sorry.” he paused a moment, “I really do appreciate this, I know there are other people who wouldn’t be as kind.” Or who’d scream and demand his autograph, drawing all those teenagers right back to him... Then he’d never get to see his manager in peace.

“Well, I never liked my name so much either.” Alexander shrugged, “My father wanted me to have an easier time in school so he gave me an English name instead of a Korean one; he thought it would help me fit in.” He wasn’t ashamed of his heritage, and his father hadn’t been either but in every way he’d wanted an easy life for his son. “Tell Nymphadora I think she’s got a lovely name, won’t you?”  

Remiel lets out a soft sigh and rises from his seat. He crosses the short distance between them and sits on the edge of the chaise, careful not to sit on the silk sheet keeping Alexander’s modesty intact. Although the artist was certain he had seen things that would make the devil blush, he wasn’t about to plunge someone else into the deep-end of hedonism. His coffee colored eyes are thoughtful as he looks at Alex, his hand dips into a pocket and he pulls out his glasses. 

A thoughtful finger lifts Alex’s head until their eyes meet. He folds his hands back in his lap, “and why, Alex, don’t you think it will be enough?” His head tilts thoughtfully, an undeniable tenderness in his aura. “When the masks are off, when the fanfare has died down, when the lights are low and all your tiny graces are gone… when someone truly sees you, why don’t you think that will be enough?”

-

He could hear and feel Remiel getting closer and, though he did his best to hide it, his shoulder’s raised and tensed and the rest of his body followed suit, wondering if he was in for more corrections, changes, verbal proof he couldn’t even sit for a damn portrait without his veela abilities helping him along. Much as he was lorded as a modern-day siren it was very different when he couldn’t sing or put on his usual public persona with a manager on one side and tour staff on the other.

His eyes went wide  when Remiel tilted his face up, he found himself staring into a handsome face as what may as well have poetry was said to him. He swallowed, his throat feeling tight and he had the sudden urge to pull more of the cloth up to cover his body. “I-” he swallowed again, “That’s a very personal question.” he whispered, “I’ve never... This wasn’t supposed to be so-” intimate. And here he was unable to speak in coherent sentences. But what if it wasn’t enough? Underneath all the glamour... how could what remained be equal?

“Disappearing would be the attempt to draw them out,” he says coolly, folding his arms over his chest once again and leaning back in his chair. “Imagine you’ve spent all this time stalking your prey and all of a sudden it vanishes on you. Not a trace. Wouldn’t that make you mad? Wouldn’t all of that time and dedication going to waste enrage you? Wouldn’t you want your victory? Maybe go a little crazy, get a little sloppy trying to get it back since it was so close before?”  

As meaningless as it, he makes his point. Alex is young, too young and too successful and too full of ideals underpinned by guilt to cede the argument. For better or worse the notion that you had to lose a few battles to win a war, had not been etched into his skin. There were pawns, there were players and there were monsters. Moody wasn’t sure which one he was anymore but he’d make sure Alex stayed a player for as long as possible. 

“These are enough to tell us, whoever is stalking you wants alone time. They’ve treasured every ounce of effort leading up to this. It’ll be important you don’t travel alone, that all of your outings are highly publicized but in venues we can control. But we’ll change houses every few days. Keeping you moving. Don’t eat or drink anything handed to you. They’ll have to reorganize. Come up with a new plan… it could work. We’ll look to see if the same person shows up at your public appearances, if new mail comes… could you do that much Alex?” 

-

“I-” Alex paused, licking his lips and shrugging, a little uncomfortable with how easily Alastor was able to lay out possible motivations and the actions they could lead to. He was beginning to think he was useless if you took him off a stage or put anything other than a microphone in his hand. “I don’t know,” he stuttered slightly, “I’ve never put myself in the headspace of a person who thinks like, whoever wrote those,” he gestured at the letters, not letting his gaze linger on the parchment.

“Do you have to say it like that?” Sure he’d come here because his worry had gotten the best the of him but having all those worries he’d spent week’s shushing be confirmed by a man as well-informed as Alastor was making everything very real, very quickly and very frightening.      

“I’m not exactly travelling much,” he said quietly, “Or appearing, I’m supposed to be on a break,” Though there’d been no short supply of offers for appearances coming in since he’d settled back in the UK. “I could make myself visible easily enough, do you think that would help?” he asked, furrowing his brow, “Food and drink? If they want me alone wouldn’t poisoning me be counter to that?” he wrung his fingers together before nodding, “Yes, I can.” he didn’t want to, he didn’t want any of this; fearing for his life was supposed to have ended with the war.    

“Aye, well good.” In a slightly proud moment, Marlene caught herself from deepening a hole she would struggle to get out of. It was still early enough in the night for that self awareness. Or else, she’d be saying what shite all it was anyway. She was sure she had valid suspicions on still about a quarter of the people in this room. For things she wouldn’t forgive on either end of the line. The worst of it, she thought she’d seen as a kid, stuck in a room with her ear pressed to the door. Then came school, then work, then war. But subside that for now with a drink, yes? Yes. She grabbed the nearest passing tray, not paying attention to the rather unflattering green glitter that emitted from the glass. “Sounds like you’ve really had some scratching experience.” 

-

He let out a small chuckle and shrugged, the usually awkward motion elegant on his frame. Bringing his own glass to his lips he took a small sip despite being quite parched, he’d need to find a soft drink and guzzle it out of sight, it was important to keep up appearances and he’d be performing again later on in the evening. “Baths upon baths and several the neighbours children joined in on, they wanted all the kids to get it at the same time.” Likely so it wouldn’t disrupt their schooling too much, “And aside from that, all I did was itch.” Anywhere he couldn’t reach had felt like agony and anywhere he could reach his dad had told him off for, saying he’d only make it worse. “Not the most glamorous conversation for a gala though.”  

“And Marie Antoinette didn’t think she’d lose the French Revolution until her head was rolling across the cobblestones. The point is, prejudice has existed as long as humans have. Don’t get comfortable expecting it…” he pauses a moment, a subtle sadness rippling through his eye, “that’s how people die. Complacency will always kill good sense.” 

“I eat when I can,” he answers dismissively, “if all you kids could go one day without finding trouble maybe I’d get some hot meals and sleep. As it stands,” he indicates the creepy hate mail before him and tilts his head pointedly. “My job is to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just because the war ended didn’t mean all the dark wizards went with it. I’ll worry about me and I’ll worry about you and you won’t worry about me,” how many times had he said something like that Clara? To his father? His few friends? To be cared for was a dangerous contingency he didn’t want others shouldering the burden of. He exhales, “one of is us actively receiving death notes and the other is sitting at a desk eating honey cakes.” 

Moody shakes his head, “no. If you can hire loyalty then it can certainly be bribed into betrayal. Nor do I want some mercenaries knowing where we’ve got safe houses. If they’re bold enough to enter your home they could be anywhere. Now I assume it would be unlikely we could have you drop off the map completely? Full dark mode would be ideal. You’ve never disappeared for a few weeks? You know how celebrities… they vanish for two weeks and then show up in Santorini with a tan and new wife.” 

-

“I’ve never been comfortable with it, Sir” he replied quietly, “But you have grow a thick skin, you can’t exist in the spotlight without one or you’ll just burn up. But there’s never been-” he swallowed and looked away, “I’m a singer, I’m not a political campaigner, or strong activist, I just never thought I’d be worth that kind of attention.” More fool him.

He looked down, cheeks flushing and feeling genuine guilt for bringing this trouble to the man’s already busy table. “I’m sorry Sir. I just don’t want to be the cause of any more problems.” His father had put up with difficulties so he could get his career started, he’d put up with having a half-veela son, his manager dealt with him on tour and now he was taking up Alastor’s time as well. “But it doesn’t work like that. I... I do worry about you, even if I’ve been awful at showing it while touring these last few years.” On some level he wished he’d done more, maybe heard more intel, actually fought on the front lines with other members, maybe he could have made a bigger difference. And then... maybe he’d be able to deal with this himself.    

“Sir,” Alexander shook his head, “This is my life. If run and hide they’ll be waiting for me when I come back, I am not going to give them that victory. And what if they go dark too? These,” he gestured at the letters, “Aren’t exactly leads to track this person down.” he paused a moment, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “What if we... tried to draw them out or something?” Reckless, probably, but he didn’t want to live his life hiding, and he wanted this person locked up, “Who knows what else they’re doing between sending these kinds of letters?”  

DATE: may 21st, 1985 TIME: 4:15am LOCATION: thames beach

The sun is just barely breaking over the surface of the water. It’s taken Isabelle some time since moving in to find the best place to sit by the water – and, truth be told, it’s hard to ascribe any POSITIVE adjectives to the Thames.

“It’s so dirty,” she comments just before taking a bite of her tartine. She chews thoughtfully, with large bites, squinting slightly into the oncoming sunrise. The last bite of the bread and jam   c r u n c h e s   between her teeth, and she reaches for her little ceramic cup of coffee seated on the saucer to her side.

Every morning, she Apparates into Café Abringer for a TRADITIONAL French breakfast, a little picnic basket under her arm, a blanket knitted by her aunt inside. Then she sits by the river to watch the sunrise with her little picnic before heading to work in Diagon Alley. It was a tricky routine to work out initially – she tried both Wixen and Muggle cafes for her breakfast and coffee, but none in London were to her satisfaction – but now the workers at the cafe recognize her and greet her WARMLY with a smile, and there’s a lovely Muggle woman who Isabelle thinks is unhoused that feeds the birds on a park bench every morning, and Isabelle trades some of her breakfast for a handful of birdseed to distribute herself. Just that little moment with the pigeons is enough to set her day off to a good start.

The clinking and the… outer monologue have seemed to attract the attention of someone unfamiliar with her presence, however. She notices after a delayed moment, looking up at her newfound companion with WIDE eyes and a hand covering her full mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” she gushes, “I have started talking to myself because I live alone, I think.” She pauses and gulps out a swallow. “Would you care to join me?”

-

Just disappear? Vanish and hide away for Merlin knew how long. How was he supposed to do that? The letters he was receiving, the threats, the vicious insults to his blood, they weren’t going to stop but he didn’t want to let this person know they’d won. His thoughts kept turning in circles and he’d needed to get away, so he picked a direction and started walking at an ungodly hour, his grip fixed around his wand in his pocket. There had to be another way, something he could do to deal with this problem and get his way out of this forced vacation and start writing or performing again; the ministry gala had only reinforced how much he loved his work.

His walking had taken him along the river in the end, he couldn’t recall ever having just walked by it for the sake of walking before, he’d always been too busy. A voice broke into his dour musings and he looked over, fingers flexing around his wand, and saw a beautiful woman who seemed as engrossed with her own thoughts as he’d been.

“Please, it’s quite alright,” he said, his deep, melodious voice a treat to any ear, “I live alone too, it happens. Oh, I don’t want to-” he was cut off by a rumble from his stomach, all this worry hadn’t left much time for eating. “Well, why not.” he smiled and elegantly reclined beside her, “Do you often ask strangers to have breakfast with you?” he asked, cocking his head a little at her, there was something... familiar about the woman.      

Iris nodded her head. She knew what he meant, it was like the first days after Sebastian was sent to Azkaban, it would sometimes need for people to raise their voice or shake some sense into her to react. Still, the idea of throwing a glass of water sounded hilarious, especially when that could easily be reverted with a simple spell. 

She sighed miserably. “All I ever wanted was to have a family, you know? To have a good husband and kids… I know it’s not a cool thing to say, with the whole women’s liberation and whatever, which I support, obviously, but it’s clearly not a popular choice. I love being a mother, and I did love being a wife, which sounds crazy, but it’s true” and she missed that. She missed her relationship with Sebastian prior to him getting arrested. “Well, you have plenty of time to figure that out… have you tried painting? Or maybe gardening?” She suggested.  “You excercise for your fans? What does that even mean?” Iris asked, making a face before sipping her drink. She didn’t excercise in the traditional way, but she did like swimming a lot and ocassionally had some ballet lessons, it helped her with her posture and balance. “Thank you, honey” she said softly. “I’ll keep that in mind” she promised. RIght now, Iris was comfortable where she was. She had a rocky start with Antonin, but now things seemed alright and, to be honest, she didn’t feel like playing elsewhere. There was something so gratifying of seeing him among the crowd and paying attention and sometimes even laughing at her jokes.”And you don’t need to bring presents every time you come home, your presence alone is the best gift” she smiled and she meant it.

-

He wasn’t particularly proud of moments like that. Still, they weren’t as bad as when he’d lost his temper in the past... He’d screamed, glass shook, even his eyes had almost gone opaque. Their manager had been scared, he’d been horrified... and he’d taken up calming techniques ever since. There was always a balance to be kept, a some days it was harder than others. 

“No I get it,” he said with a small smile, “I always wanted a mother. Before I knew what I was I used to think-” he paused a moment and looked at his drink, “Used to think if I was better she’d come back for me, that I must’ve done something wrong for her to leave me with my dad and go. I saw my friends’ mums and I wanted that too. My dad tried, he loved me enough for two parents but,” he shrugged, “Just wasn’t the same. Family’s such an important thing. We look for ways to fill that void,” with a smirk, Alexander gestured at the stage, “In our case, we get it there.” Iris was older than him, more experienced with life, but Alexander had been striving for that stage since his third year of Hogwarts.

“I’d manage to kill a cactus if I tried gardening, and singing’s the only art I’ve got any skill with. I’ve tried reading... That makes me wanna nap.” With a chuckle he swirled the contents of his glass, “Well I don’t keep this muscles going just for me, I gotta look good in those skimpy outfits, people expect the voice and the body.” And, for as long as he could, he’d provide. “Please do,” he nodded, “Talent like yours, nothing should hold it back.” But, if she was happy, he wasn’t about to push, there were too many in their line of work who grew to resent it for exactly that reason. “Hmm, I don’t have to, but it’s nice spoiling the women in my life.”  

Amelia waited patiently for the wizard to eventually open the door to her, only returning her badge to her pocket once he had done so. So far, she had not seen any evidence to convince her that this wasn’t a waste of the Ministry’s time. As much as she didn’t like to make assumptions or jump to any conclusions, the incessant badgering that had come from Alexander’s manager had left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Thank you.” She replied with a small nod as she entered his home, adding a “you can put that away” once a quick glance down brought his wand to her attention. Generally people didn’t answer their doors with their wands in their hand, so perhaps there was some truth to be found in her visit. 

“He was certainly very insistent.” Amelia said, eyes scanning her surroundings for a moment before she looked back at Alexander once more. “But our duty is to our community, so that’s why I am here. To see if there’s grounds for concern.” She nodded once more, offering a polite smile. “Tea would be fine, thank you. If you’re making it.” 

-

“O-oh, my apologies.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, though his veela blood made if difficult for anything to be truly inelegant, he still he felt managed well enough when off his game. He stepped back and sheathed his want in his pants pocket. “I really am sorry, I told her I’d deal with it, I’m more capable than she thinks,” He’d been a member of the Order, not on the front lines of course, but he’d studied warding, he thought that would be enough.

“Yes, of course.” he gestured for her to follow and led Ameila down the hallway and into the kitchen, there wasn’t a great amount of furniture, but everything was of the highest quality, “Are you okay with green tea and a little honey?” he asked, “It’s good for the throat.”

He tapped the kettle to get it boiling and with a few quiet incantations had two cups ready that he brought to the table, “I’ve um, actually spoken, unofficially, to a member of your team already, I’d hoped to be as small a burden as possible but.” Alexander bit his lip quietly, “I’m afraid, Ms. Bones,” he left the table and walked to a kitchen drawer. Pulling out a large stack of letters he returned and placed them in front of her, without looking at them, “These would be the letters my manager mentioned, she and I are both...” he shook his head and looked away.