FIC: A Brief History of Mistletoe
Title: A Brief History of Mistletoe
Author: katyhasclogs
Rating & Warnings: PG, AU, 90% fluff
Prompts: mistletoe
Word Count: 2539
Summary: Christmas has always been a good excuse for a bit of a snog.
Author’s Notes: Officially, I don't approve of AU, but that doesn't stop me from reading it, or apparently, writing it, lol. Oh, and given that this is un-betaed, and it's also very late at night/early in the morning, there's no accounting for where my commas might have ended up...
A Brief History of Mistletoe
18th December 1995
There was a tangible air of celebration surrounding the final Order meeting before Christmas. The previously dismal kitchen at number Twelve Grimmauld Place was bright and warm, filled with delicious scents and the happy chatter of a dozen or so witches and wizards. Molly Weasley was warming a batch of homemade mince pies, while another batch sat on the table exuding a smell so mouth-watering that even Mad-Eye Moody seemed tempted. Meanwhile, Kingsley Shacklebolt was assisting Mrs Weasley by handing out mugs of tea (the mulled wine would come later, after official business had been discussed), Emmeline Vance and Dedalus Diggle were distributing Christmas cards and Hestia Jones was fiddling with the wireless, attempting to tune in to the WWN but having little luck. Even Sirius, Remus noted, seemed to have forgotten his disappointment about Harry spending Christmas with the Weasleys and was holding an animated conversation with Bill across the table.
There was a clatter from the doorway as Tonks appeared, tripping over an empty bucket and mop that everyone else had somehow managed to avoid. Remus looked towards her, catching her eye, and smiled. She was looking especially pretty this evening, her hair falling in forest green waves against burgundy-clad shoulders, her cheeks still glowing from the cold weather outside and her eyes sparkling as she returned his smile and seated herself in the empty chair between him and Sirius.
Sirius shot her a wicked grin. “Are those hairclips supposed to be a hint?”
Remus stole a glance at her hair and noticed that she had secured it with two clips in the shape of tiny clusters of mistletoe, one on each side of her head.
“D’you like them?” said Tonks, “I spotted them in a little shop ‘round the corner from the Ministry, and I just couldn’t resist.” She shot Sirius a cheeky grin. “And if you want to take them as a hint I won’t complain, since it’s Christmas and you happen to be my favourite escaped convict.”
Their banter continued and Remus allowed his attention to drift. Tonks really did look exceptionally beautiful tonight. Her dark eyes sparkled as she laughed, made prettier than ever by the soft waves of hair that framed her face, the colour of her robes complemented the creamy tones of her skin, and the pink of her lips and cheeks perfectly, while the fabric itself skimmed each curve in a manner that left just enough to the imagination.
Remus shook himself mentally, worried that his thoughts were in danger of veering into the category of distinctly lecherous. Surely though, it was possible to appreciate the beauty of someone (of a friend, no less), without implying feelings of a more romantic nature. A person could recognise that a person was attractive in the same way that one could admire a particularly good sunset, a painting, or the Great Hall at Hogwarts, couldn’t they?
But these musings continued no further, since Remus was brought out of his reverie by the sound of his own name, and looked up to find Tonks gazing at him expectantly.
“Sorry, what?” he asked, hoping he looked suitably apologetic.
Tonks rolled her eyes. “Didn’t think you were listening. Sirius was saying that since I’ve got two bits of mistletoe in my hair, he didn’t see why he should be limited to one kiss, so I said that in the interests of fairness, I should offer the other cheek to you, if you’re interested?”
Remus smiled. “How could I refuse?” And without further ado, he leaned towards her and planted a chaste kiss on her left cheek.
* * * *
26th December 1996
It really was, Remus thought, far too early to already be awake on Boxing Day. Yet here he was, leaning against a tree in the garden of the Burrow wrapped in his travelling cloak, clutching a mug of tea and watching the sun rise over the orchard. He was tired enough that staying in bed until midday would have done him a great deal of good, but his circadian rhythms had other ideas, since necessity and anxiety meant that he’d been in the habit of waking early while living with the other werewolves.
Despite his weariness, Remus was finding it difficult to mind being awake so early in the day. There was a certain magic about being up and outside while the world was still sleeping that couldn’t even be tarnished by the fact that he’d just spent the best part of four months living outdoors. Indeed, the beauty of the landscape today; the pink-orange glow on the horizon, the twinkle of frost on the plants and trees, was a welcome contrast to the mud and rain and howling winds of the autumn. It felt good, in these dark times, to be reminded of the beauty of the world.
There was a faint ‘pop’ of Apparition, and a figure appeared not two yards from where he stood. It was Tonks.
“Remus! Bloody hell, you gave me a fright.”
“Sorry.” Her appearance was a shock to him. The Tonks of his memory was bright and bubbly, with hair the colour of the dawn sky behind her. The woman standing in front of him was pale and gaunt, her eyes ringed by purple shadows and her hair limp and mousey. “What are you doing here?” he asked, shocked by the harshness of his own voice.
“I’ve got some things to give to Molly and Arthur.”
“At this hour?”
“I’ve just come off a shift.”
“Oh.” Yes, Remus thought, of course; she was wearing her work robes, how stupid of him not to notice. He looked down at his feet. “Molly said you were spending Christmas alone.”
Tonks looked mildly irritated. “She’s bending the truth. I’ve been working.” It was Tonks’ turn to glance away now. “Better that someone like me takes the shifts, rather than people with family.”
“You do have family.” Even as the words slipped out, Remus realised how ridiculously pedantic they sounded.
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. People who are married with children.”
There was an awkward silence, each of them avoiding the other’s eyes and searching for something to say. In the end it was Remus who spoke.
“Harry mentioned your Patronus.”
“Mmm hmm.” Tonks seemed hardly to hear him at first, apparently distracted by a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve, but then she looked up, straight into his eyes. “You know it’s you.” It was a statement, rather than a question.
Remus was taken aback. “I… no, I didn’t. Harry only said it was large and four-legged.” Remus looked down again, scuffing the earth slightly with his toe. He had hardly dared to think (and in truth, hadn’t wanted to think), when Harry had mentioned her Patronus, that the change had anything to do with him. The idea had far too many serious implications for his liking. But to be told that its new form was a symbol of himself; what that implied about her feelings towards him… well it was almost beyond comprehension. “That’s… very flattering, thank you.”
They lapsed once more into uneasy silence, the seconds passing like hours.
“Dangerous place to stand.” Tonks’ motioned with her eyes towards the branches above him, a half smile not quite reaching her eyes.
Remus looked up and discovered that he had been standing directly below a clump of mistletoe. “Yes, I suppose so.” He smiled. “It’s probably full of Nargles.”
“What are Nargles?”
“I have no idea,” he said, chuckling a little, “It’s something Harry says.”
A genuinely amused smile formed on Tonks’ lips, and before Remus knew what had happened, one or both of them had stepped forwards, closing the space between them, Remus’ free hand cupped Tonks’ cheek, while her fingers clutched the front of his cloak and their lips met. Remus lost himself in the kiss. Perhaps this - being with Tonks in the watery winter sunlight, with the frost glittering around them, the slide of her tongue against his - perhaps this was another of the comforts he could allow himself, just for these few days, a blissful escape from the realities of the war and his role in it. But no, he could hardly compare her to a warm bed and plenty of food, and the longer he allowed it to continue, the more difficult it would be for both of them. He moved his hand to her shoulder, and gently pushed her away.
Tonks eyes filled with tears and she looked away, crossing her arms in front of her, almost hugging herself. “Oh Remus,” she said in a voice barley louder than a whisper, “Why won’t you let me love you?”
“Because I can give you nothing, and you deserve so much more.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
She looked at him once more, almost glaring. “That isn’t for you to decide, is it?” She sighed and reached into the bag she wore slung across her body. “Give these to Arthur,” she handed him a bundle of parchment, “and these to Molly,” she continued, producing a brightly wrapped package, “and tell her I say thanks for the jumper and the mince pies.”
Remus stood silently as she turned, walked several paces and shot him a glance over her shoulder which was one part frustration and two parts hurt, before muttering, “Happy Christmas Remus,” and Disapparating.
* * * *
25th December 1997
Tonks was warm and comfortable, floating somewhere between waking and sleeping, and listening to the rain pounding against the window, when she felt the brush of lips against her forehead. She opened her eyes to see Remus setting a mug of tea on the bedside table.
“Happy Christmas,” he said, smiling and holding out a tiny parcel. “I’ve got something for you.”
Tonks sat up, an action which had become more cumbersome of late due to the restrictions of a baby bump, and shot Remus a confused and slightly irritated look. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t buy presents this year?”
It was true: as both the means and the opportunity for purchasing gifts were fairly limited in the current climate, they had decided not to, opting instead for writing each other letters. Tonks had spent a great deal of time on the composition of hers (one each to Remus, her mother and her new father-in-law) and so the package now lying in her lap, with it’s implication that Remus had broken their agreement, somewhat offended her Hufflepuff sense of fair play.
“I didn’t buy it, don’t worry,” he said, “and technically it isn’t even a present, since you already own it.”
Tonks looked at him in bemusement. What on earth could he be giving her that she already owned? It made no sense.
Remus smiled. “Open it,” he said; walking around the bed and sitting next to her, “you’ll see what I mean.”
Intrigued, she hastily peeled off the paper and Spellotape to reveal two hairclips, shaped like tiny clusters of mistletoe. Memories of a happy December evening two years ago flooded back. How different life had been back then, and how much had changed. If someone had told that past self that within two years she would be married and expecting a baby, she perhaps wouldn’t have laughed in their face, but she certainly wouldn’t have believed them either. And yet now, in many ways, it seemed like the most natural turn of events, despite (and perhaps even because of) the problems she and Remus had had. In fact, distressing as the issues between them had been, and continued to be, she wouldn’t change any aspect of what they had been through - horrible as it had been, it had made them stronger in the long run, and problems that would otherwise have festered had been brought out into the open and discussed. In the same way, as awkward as the timing of her pregnancy was, she did not regret it one iota.
“I’d forgotten about these,” she said, running her fingers over the miniature foliage, a smile spreading across her face, “thank you”.
“We found them when we were clearing out Headquarters in the summer. Today seemed like an appropriate moment to return them.”
Tonks’ smile widened. “We should probably put them to good use then,” she said, and carefully pinned back a lock of bed-tousled hair with each clip. As Remus’ lips met hers, she sighed contentedly, oblivious now to the stormy weather outside.
* * * *
24th December 2013
Tonks savoured the feeling of Remus’ lips against hers, allowing him to push her a little more firmly against the doorframe. Even after sixteen years of marriage she never became bored with his kisses. She slid her hands, which had been resting at the small of his back, over his chest and up to twine her fingers in his now entirely grey hair. Who would have thought, after all the problems and dangers they had faced so early in their relationship, that they would be here now, together and happy and well, with a teenage son who faced only the normal run of teenage problems. Life was very good indeed.
“Oh for Merlin’s sake, do you have to be so revolting?”
Both Remus and Tonks sniggered a little as they extricated themselves (with no great haste) from each others embrace, and turned to face an appalled-looking Teddy, who watched from the hallway.
Tonks couldn’t resist a smirk. “We’re middle-aged, not dead.”
“And in any case,” said Remus, slipping his arm around her waist, “there was mistletoe, and mistletoe requires kissing.”
“That would be a brilliant excuse if you hadn’t conjured it yourselves.”
“And,” continued Tonks, pretending to ignore Teddy’s comment, “we needed something to pass the time while you were still getting ready.”
“Yes,” said Remus, “I’m sure I never spent that long getting dressed when I was fifteen.”
“Some of us like to look presentable.”
“And it’s got nothing to do with the presence of a certain Victoire Weasley at Harry’s party, has it?” said Tonks.
Teddy merely glared.
* * * *
24th December 2013, Later…
It was a good party, Remus thought. The company, music and décor were lively and the food delicious, he was surrounded by friends and was beginning to feel pleasantly woozy. Yes, it was a very good party indeed.
“Come and look at this.” Remus turned to find Tonks at his side. She took his hand and led him through the crowd of people, out into the dark, cool hallway of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Motioning to him to keep quiet and leading him to a spot where they were partially concealed by the dining room door, she whispered, “Look.”
Remus followed her gaze. At the end of the hall, where there had once been an ugly trolls-foot umbrella stand and a disgruntled portrait, a girl with strawberry blonde hair could be seen pressing a young man against the coat-rack. Between the numerous cloaks and scarves could be seen a flash of turquoise hair.
“Looks like the all the effort paid off, eh?” whispered Tonks.
Remus could only smile in agreement, and press a kiss to her cheek.
Author: katyhasclogs
Rating & Warnings: PG, AU, 90% fluff
Prompts: mistletoe
Word Count: 2539
Summary: Christmas has always been a good excuse for a bit of a snog.
Author’s Notes: Officially, I don't approve of AU, but that doesn't stop me from reading it, or apparently, writing it, lol. Oh, and given that this is un-betaed, and it's also very late at night/early in the morning, there's no accounting for where my commas might have ended up...
A Brief History of Mistletoe
18th December 1995
There was a tangible air of celebration surrounding the final Order meeting before Christmas. The previously dismal kitchen at number Twelve Grimmauld Place was bright and warm, filled with delicious scents and the happy chatter of a dozen or so witches and wizards. Molly Weasley was warming a batch of homemade mince pies, while another batch sat on the table exuding a smell so mouth-watering that even Mad-Eye Moody seemed tempted. Meanwhile, Kingsley Shacklebolt was assisting Mrs Weasley by handing out mugs of tea (the mulled wine would come later, after official business had been discussed), Emmeline Vance and Dedalus Diggle were distributing Christmas cards and Hestia Jones was fiddling with the wireless, attempting to tune in to the WWN but having little luck. Even Sirius, Remus noted, seemed to have forgotten his disappointment about Harry spending Christmas with the Weasleys and was holding an animated conversation with Bill across the table.
There was a clatter from the doorway as Tonks appeared, tripping over an empty bucket and mop that everyone else had somehow managed to avoid. Remus looked towards her, catching her eye, and smiled. She was looking especially pretty this evening, her hair falling in forest green waves against burgundy-clad shoulders, her cheeks still glowing from the cold weather outside and her eyes sparkling as she returned his smile and seated herself in the empty chair between him and Sirius.
Sirius shot her a wicked grin. “Are those hairclips supposed to be a hint?”
Remus stole a glance at her hair and noticed that she had secured it with two clips in the shape of tiny clusters of mistletoe, one on each side of her head.
“D’you like them?” said Tonks, “I spotted them in a little shop ‘round the corner from the Ministry, and I just couldn’t resist.” She shot Sirius a cheeky grin. “And if you want to take them as a hint I won’t complain, since it’s Christmas and you happen to be my favourite escaped convict.”
Their banter continued and Remus allowed his attention to drift. Tonks really did look exceptionally beautiful tonight. Her dark eyes sparkled as she laughed, made prettier than ever by the soft waves of hair that framed her face, the colour of her robes complemented the creamy tones of her skin, and the pink of her lips and cheeks perfectly, while the fabric itself skimmed each curve in a manner that left just enough to the imagination.
Remus shook himself mentally, worried that his thoughts were in danger of veering into the category of distinctly lecherous. Surely though, it was possible to appreciate the beauty of someone (of a friend, no less), without implying feelings of a more romantic nature. A person could recognise that a person was attractive in the same way that one could admire a particularly good sunset, a painting, or the Great Hall at Hogwarts, couldn’t they?
But these musings continued no further, since Remus was brought out of his reverie by the sound of his own name, and looked up to find Tonks gazing at him expectantly.
“Sorry, what?” he asked, hoping he looked suitably apologetic.
Tonks rolled her eyes. “Didn’t think you were listening. Sirius was saying that since I’ve got two bits of mistletoe in my hair, he didn’t see why he should be limited to one kiss, so I said that in the interests of fairness, I should offer the other cheek to you, if you’re interested?”
Remus smiled. “How could I refuse?” And without further ado, he leaned towards her and planted a chaste kiss on her left cheek.
* * * *
26th December 1996
It really was, Remus thought, far too early to already be awake on Boxing Day. Yet here he was, leaning against a tree in the garden of the Burrow wrapped in his travelling cloak, clutching a mug of tea and watching the sun rise over the orchard. He was tired enough that staying in bed until midday would have done him a great deal of good, but his circadian rhythms had other ideas, since necessity and anxiety meant that he’d been in the habit of waking early while living with the other werewolves.
Despite his weariness, Remus was finding it difficult to mind being awake so early in the day. There was a certain magic about being up and outside while the world was still sleeping that couldn’t even be tarnished by the fact that he’d just spent the best part of four months living outdoors. Indeed, the beauty of the landscape today; the pink-orange glow on the horizon, the twinkle of frost on the plants and trees, was a welcome contrast to the mud and rain and howling winds of the autumn. It felt good, in these dark times, to be reminded of the beauty of the world.
There was a faint ‘pop’ of Apparition, and a figure appeared not two yards from where he stood. It was Tonks.
“Remus! Bloody hell, you gave me a fright.”
“Sorry.” Her appearance was a shock to him. The Tonks of his memory was bright and bubbly, with hair the colour of the dawn sky behind her. The woman standing in front of him was pale and gaunt, her eyes ringed by purple shadows and her hair limp and mousey. “What are you doing here?” he asked, shocked by the harshness of his own voice.
“I’ve got some things to give to Molly and Arthur.”
“At this hour?”
“I’ve just come off a shift.”
“Oh.” Yes, Remus thought, of course; she was wearing her work robes, how stupid of him not to notice. He looked down at his feet. “Molly said you were spending Christmas alone.”
Tonks looked mildly irritated. “She’s bending the truth. I’ve been working.” It was Tonks’ turn to glance away now. “Better that someone like me takes the shifts, rather than people with family.”
“You do have family.” Even as the words slipped out, Remus realised how ridiculously pedantic they sounded.
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. People who are married with children.”
There was an awkward silence, each of them avoiding the other’s eyes and searching for something to say. In the end it was Remus who spoke.
“Harry mentioned your Patronus.”
“Mmm hmm.” Tonks seemed hardly to hear him at first, apparently distracted by a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve, but then she looked up, straight into his eyes. “You know it’s you.” It was a statement, rather than a question.
Remus was taken aback. “I… no, I didn’t. Harry only said it was large and four-legged.” Remus looked down again, scuffing the earth slightly with his toe. He had hardly dared to think (and in truth, hadn’t wanted to think), when Harry had mentioned her Patronus, that the change had anything to do with him. The idea had far too many serious implications for his liking. But to be told that its new form was a symbol of himself; what that implied about her feelings towards him… well it was almost beyond comprehension. “That’s… very flattering, thank you.”
They lapsed once more into uneasy silence, the seconds passing like hours.
“Dangerous place to stand.” Tonks’ motioned with her eyes towards the branches above him, a half smile not quite reaching her eyes.
Remus looked up and discovered that he had been standing directly below a clump of mistletoe. “Yes, I suppose so.” He smiled. “It’s probably full of Nargles.”
“What are Nargles?”
“I have no idea,” he said, chuckling a little, “It’s something Harry says.”
A genuinely amused smile formed on Tonks’ lips, and before Remus knew what had happened, one or both of them had stepped forwards, closing the space between them, Remus’ free hand cupped Tonks’ cheek, while her fingers clutched the front of his cloak and their lips met. Remus lost himself in the kiss. Perhaps this - being with Tonks in the watery winter sunlight, with the frost glittering around them, the slide of her tongue against his - perhaps this was another of the comforts he could allow himself, just for these few days, a blissful escape from the realities of the war and his role in it. But no, he could hardly compare her to a warm bed and plenty of food, and the longer he allowed it to continue, the more difficult it would be for both of them. He moved his hand to her shoulder, and gently pushed her away.
Tonks eyes filled with tears and she looked away, crossing her arms in front of her, almost hugging herself. “Oh Remus,” she said in a voice barley louder than a whisper, “Why won’t you let me love you?”
“Because I can give you nothing, and you deserve so much more.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
She looked at him once more, almost glaring. “That isn’t for you to decide, is it?” She sighed and reached into the bag she wore slung across her body. “Give these to Arthur,” she handed him a bundle of parchment, “and these to Molly,” she continued, producing a brightly wrapped package, “and tell her I say thanks for the jumper and the mince pies.”
Remus stood silently as she turned, walked several paces and shot him a glance over her shoulder which was one part frustration and two parts hurt, before muttering, “Happy Christmas Remus,” and Disapparating.
* * * *
25th December 1997
Tonks was warm and comfortable, floating somewhere between waking and sleeping, and listening to the rain pounding against the window, when she felt the brush of lips against her forehead. She opened her eyes to see Remus setting a mug of tea on the bedside table.
“Happy Christmas,” he said, smiling and holding out a tiny parcel. “I’ve got something for you.”
Tonks sat up, an action which had become more cumbersome of late due to the restrictions of a baby bump, and shot Remus a confused and slightly irritated look. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t buy presents this year?”
It was true: as both the means and the opportunity for purchasing gifts were fairly limited in the current climate, they had decided not to, opting instead for writing each other letters. Tonks had spent a great deal of time on the composition of hers (one each to Remus, her mother and her new father-in-law) and so the package now lying in her lap, with it’s implication that Remus had broken their agreement, somewhat offended her Hufflepuff sense of fair play.
“I didn’t buy it, don’t worry,” he said, “and technically it isn’t even a present, since you already own it.”
Tonks looked at him in bemusement. What on earth could he be giving her that she already owned? It made no sense.
Remus smiled. “Open it,” he said; walking around the bed and sitting next to her, “you’ll see what I mean.”
Intrigued, she hastily peeled off the paper and Spellotape to reveal two hairclips, shaped like tiny clusters of mistletoe. Memories of a happy December evening two years ago flooded back. How different life had been back then, and how much had changed. If someone had told that past self that within two years she would be married and expecting a baby, she perhaps wouldn’t have laughed in their face, but she certainly wouldn’t have believed them either. And yet now, in many ways, it seemed like the most natural turn of events, despite (and perhaps even because of) the problems she and Remus had had. In fact, distressing as the issues between them had been, and continued to be, she wouldn’t change any aspect of what they had been through - horrible as it had been, it had made them stronger in the long run, and problems that would otherwise have festered had been brought out into the open and discussed. In the same way, as awkward as the timing of her pregnancy was, she did not regret it one iota.
“I’d forgotten about these,” she said, running her fingers over the miniature foliage, a smile spreading across her face, “thank you”.
“We found them when we were clearing out Headquarters in the summer. Today seemed like an appropriate moment to return them.”
Tonks’ smile widened. “We should probably put them to good use then,” she said, and carefully pinned back a lock of bed-tousled hair with each clip. As Remus’ lips met hers, she sighed contentedly, oblivious now to the stormy weather outside.
* * * *
24th December 2013
Tonks savoured the feeling of Remus’ lips against hers, allowing him to push her a little more firmly against the doorframe. Even after sixteen years of marriage she never became bored with his kisses. She slid her hands, which had been resting at the small of his back, over his chest and up to twine her fingers in his now entirely grey hair. Who would have thought, after all the problems and dangers they had faced so early in their relationship, that they would be here now, together and happy and well, with a teenage son who faced only the normal run of teenage problems. Life was very good indeed.
“Oh for Merlin’s sake, do you have to be so revolting?”
Both Remus and Tonks sniggered a little as they extricated themselves (with no great haste) from each others embrace, and turned to face an appalled-looking Teddy, who watched from the hallway.
Tonks couldn’t resist a smirk. “We’re middle-aged, not dead.”
“And in any case,” said Remus, slipping his arm around her waist, “there was mistletoe, and mistletoe requires kissing.”
“That would be a brilliant excuse if you hadn’t conjured it yourselves.”
“And,” continued Tonks, pretending to ignore Teddy’s comment, “we needed something to pass the time while you were still getting ready.”
“Yes,” said Remus, “I’m sure I never spent that long getting dressed when I was fifteen.”
“Some of us like to look presentable.”
“And it’s got nothing to do with the presence of a certain Victoire Weasley at Harry’s party, has it?” said Tonks.
Teddy merely glared.
* * * *
24th December 2013, Later…
It was a good party, Remus thought. The company, music and décor were lively and the food delicious, he was surrounded by friends and was beginning to feel pleasantly woozy. Yes, it was a very good party indeed.
“Come and look at this.” Remus turned to find Tonks at his side. She took his hand and led him through the crowd of people, out into the dark, cool hallway of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Motioning to him to keep quiet and leading him to a spot where they were partially concealed by the dining room door, she whispered, “Look.”
Remus followed her gaze. At the end of the hall, where there had once been an ugly trolls-foot umbrella stand and a disgruntled portrait, a girl with strawberry blonde hair could be seen pressing a young man against the coat-rack. Between the numerous cloaks and scarves could be seen a flash of turquoise hair.
“Looks like the all the effort paid off, eh?” whispered Tonks.
Remus could only smile in agreement, and press a kiss to her cheek.