Getting the Band Back Together, 9/?
Title: Getting the Band Back Together
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Universe: Seven Characters in Search of a Story
Characters/Pairing: Background canon pairings
Genre: Humor/Adventure
Summary: Thanks to a string of unlucky events, Tonks finds herself the latest infiltrator into Lord Voldemort's regime. Will she be able to help the Order in their quest to defeat the Dark Lord, or is the young Auror out of her depth? Post GoF. Background RLNT.
Author’s Note: Yes, I know. It has been forever. I haven’t forgotten, I promise. I just got sidetracked…For seven months.
Chapter Eight
Tonks felt sick. Sick, exhausted, and, on the whole, rather upset with the events of the last few days. Her hair had taken on a dark brown colour, alerting the other members of the Order of the Phoenix to her foul mood. Of course, they probably would have figured it out without that not so subtle gesture.
Probably something to do with the fact you’re wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer, she thought bitterly to herself.
Two days on, she could still feel the burning of the Dark Mark on her skin. It wasn’t just a game anymore.
There’s no going back.
The war never felt as real for Tonks as it did then. She was no longer a kid who’d just so happened to join the resistance. She was in the thick of it. What she did mattered now. Part of her wanted nothing more than to run away as fast as she could.
It wasn’t really an option anymore.
Dumbledore was talking, but Tonks could not find the motivation to listen. She was painstakingly aware of the sympathetic glances that were constantly thrown in her direction, mostly from Remus and Molly, neither of which surprised her. What did surprise her, though, was the concern than emanated from none other than Severus Snape. In the history of their acquaintance, he had never been particularly amicable towards her. If anything, he had shown outright hatred. In the last few weeks, though, things had changed. It was only then that Tonks found herself realising why.
He wasn’t alone anymore.
For so long the Potions Master had been the Order’s only infiltrator in Voldemort’s circle. Now he had a clumsy, disorganized Hufflepuff Auror to help him through things. The fact that he almost relished her presence there was disconcerting, if still a little bit confusing. In spite of her Auror training, she wasn’t the best back-up he could have hoped for. If anything, she was probably a burden to his plan.
Thankfully, though, Molly and Remus had much more comprehendible motives. Molly was simply exerting her desire to mother anyone and everyone within hugging distance, and Remus was.
Well, Remus was Remus.
He had taken an unusual amount of interest in her wellbeing since the day she first joined the Order, not long after the second return of Voldemort. It felt like it had been years, rather than weeks.
Indeed, after the meeting had concluded, Tonks found herself rushing up the staircase to avoid the inevitable confrontation with the concerned werewolf. She hadn’t said a word to him since receiving the Dark Mark, and if she were to be honest with herself, it wasn’t a conversation that she really wanted to have.
No sooner than she had shut the door of Regulus’s old room - her unofficial bedroom in the house - she heard the soft knocking.
‘Tonks?’ His voice was low. Tired. It was still a week until the full moon, but Remus had seemed perpetually exhausted in the time that she had known him. She kept her silence, wishing that he would go away, but she knew that was about as likely as the Chudley Cannons winning next year’s final. ‘Dora?’ he tried again, testing the name she had responded to favourably in the past. Her father called her Dora.
Hesitant, she pulled the door open. He stood there for a few moments, before she stepped backwards to let him in. There was an awkward silence between them, as if neither was really sure what was appropriate to say.
In lieu of speech, Tonks sat on the edge of the bed, avoiding the gaze from the eyes that she knew were crestfallen.
‘May I...?’ he asked, gesturing to space beside her. There was something else in his words though; permission to sit was not the only question he was asking. Quivering, she nodded, and almost cursed herself for being so worked up. Her lack of self-assurance certainly wasn’t making him feel better.
She held her arm out to him, feeling the goosepimples as he gently rolled the sleeve back. Her eyes closed, she didn’t see his face, but she did hear the sharp intake of breath. His hands were soft on her skin, a sharp contrast to the burning that had been omnipresent since she had received the mark. A burning that she would soon get used to, according to Snape.
It didn’t comfort her. If anything, it made her even more upset to realise that the Mark could very well be a permanent fixture on her skin. She knew that it would fade as Voldemort’s power grew weaker, but that was not to say that it would disappear entirely. She was loath to consider the possibility that the Dark Mark would stay there until her death. Morphing didn’t seem to change anything. A dozen times already, she had tried different forms, the Mark as visible in her old woman guise as it was in her current form.
‘I wanted to protect you,’ he said suddenly. Tonks opened her eyes. That wasn’t exactly the reaction she had been expecting. ‘I thought, perhaps...’ He trailed off, his hand still resting atop that dark blemish. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
She had a curse too, now. Nothing like his curse, but it was a curse nonetheless.
And she was pretty sure that it was going to end up killing her.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Universe: Seven Characters in Search of a Story
Characters/Pairing: Background canon pairings
Genre: Humor/Adventure
Summary: Thanks to a string of unlucky events, Tonks finds herself the latest infiltrator into Lord Voldemort's regime. Will she be able to help the Order in their quest to defeat the Dark Lord, or is the young Auror out of her depth? Post GoF. Background RLNT.
Author’s Note: Yes, I know. It has been forever. I haven’t forgotten, I promise. I just got sidetracked…For seven months.
Chapter Eight
Tonks felt sick. Sick, exhausted, and, on the whole, rather upset with the events of the last few days. Her hair had taken on a dark brown colour, alerting the other members of the Order of the Phoenix to her foul mood. Of course, they probably would have figured it out without that not so subtle gesture.
Probably something to do with the fact you’re wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer, she thought bitterly to herself.
Two days on, she could still feel the burning of the Dark Mark on her skin. It wasn’t just a game anymore.
There’s no going back.
The war never felt as real for Tonks as it did then. She was no longer a kid who’d just so happened to join the resistance. She was in the thick of it. What she did mattered now. Part of her wanted nothing more than to run away as fast as she could.
It wasn’t really an option anymore.
Dumbledore was talking, but Tonks could not find the motivation to listen. She was painstakingly aware of the sympathetic glances that were constantly thrown in her direction, mostly from Remus and Molly, neither of which surprised her. What did surprise her, though, was the concern than emanated from none other than Severus Snape. In the history of their acquaintance, he had never been particularly amicable towards her. If anything, he had shown outright hatred. In the last few weeks, though, things had changed. It was only then that Tonks found herself realising why.
He wasn’t alone anymore.
For so long the Potions Master had been the Order’s only infiltrator in Voldemort’s circle. Now he had a clumsy, disorganized Hufflepuff Auror to help him through things. The fact that he almost relished her presence there was disconcerting, if still a little bit confusing. In spite of her Auror training, she wasn’t the best back-up he could have hoped for. If anything, she was probably a burden to his plan.
Thankfully, though, Molly and Remus had much more comprehendible motives. Molly was simply exerting her desire to mother anyone and everyone within hugging distance, and Remus was.
Well, Remus was Remus.
He had taken an unusual amount of interest in her wellbeing since the day she first joined the Order, not long after the second return of Voldemort. It felt like it had been years, rather than weeks.
Indeed, after the meeting had concluded, Tonks found herself rushing up the staircase to avoid the inevitable confrontation with the concerned werewolf. She hadn’t said a word to him since receiving the Dark Mark, and if she were to be honest with herself, it wasn’t a conversation that she really wanted to have.
No sooner than she had shut the door of Regulus’s old room - her unofficial bedroom in the house - she heard the soft knocking.
‘Tonks?’ His voice was low. Tired. It was still a week until the full moon, but Remus had seemed perpetually exhausted in the time that she had known him. She kept her silence, wishing that he would go away, but she knew that was about as likely as the Chudley Cannons winning next year’s final. ‘Dora?’ he tried again, testing the name she had responded to favourably in the past. Her father called her Dora.
Hesitant, she pulled the door open. He stood there for a few moments, before she stepped backwards to let him in. There was an awkward silence between them, as if neither was really sure what was appropriate to say.
In lieu of speech, Tonks sat on the edge of the bed, avoiding the gaze from the eyes that she knew were crestfallen.
‘May I...?’ he asked, gesturing to space beside her. There was something else in his words though; permission to sit was not the only question he was asking. Quivering, she nodded, and almost cursed herself for being so worked up. Her lack of self-assurance certainly wasn’t making him feel better.
She held her arm out to him, feeling the goosepimples as he gently rolled the sleeve back. Her eyes closed, she didn’t see his face, but she did hear the sharp intake of breath. His hands were soft on her skin, a sharp contrast to the burning that had been omnipresent since she had received the mark. A burning that she would soon get used to, according to Snape.
It didn’t comfort her. If anything, it made her even more upset to realise that the Mark could very well be a permanent fixture on her skin. She knew that it would fade as Voldemort’s power grew weaker, but that was not to say that it would disappear entirely. She was loath to consider the possibility that the Dark Mark would stay there until her death. Morphing didn’t seem to change anything. A dozen times already, she had tried different forms, the Mark as visible in her old woman guise as it was in her current form.
‘I wanted to protect you,’ he said suddenly. Tonks opened her eyes. That wasn’t exactly the reaction she had been expecting. ‘I thought, perhaps...’ He trailed off, his hand still resting atop that dark blemish. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
She had a curse too, now. Nothing like his curse, but it was a curse nonetheless.
And she was pretty sure that it was going to end up killing her.