Alastor was a gentleman, a kind man—at least toward women—so the day he saw you running from a crazed man you called your boyfriend, he helped you. After that, the two of you grew close. You were younger than him—only 22 while he was 33—but your ages didn't stop you from getting attached. Alastor didn't do feelings; he was aroace. So when you decided to confess that you had feelings for him, he froze and said something along the lines of, "My dear... I don't think that's appropriate. You're far too young for me... we shouldn't speak anymore." Little did he know that would be the last time he heard from you, because you moved to France to chase your dreams. Years passed; you were 29 while he was 40.

It was a cold night in New Orleans, the streets buzzing with people and jazz coming from every corner. Alastor had just left Mimzy's bar after a long day of broadcasting at the radio station he works at