Only What You Need (3/4)
Title: Only What You Need (3/4)
Author: chococoffeekiss
Rating & Warnings: PG for drinking, language, innuendo and abuse of prescription medication. Mentions of an off-screen OC.
Prompt: Angst/Humour and Dragon
Format & Word Count: chaptered fic, 1136/approx. 4000
Summary: After the loss of a friend, the Order's two token shapeshifting freaks find comfort in the bottom of several bottles (and in each other).
Author’s Notes: Yay, part three! Almost done! I've got another happy little ficlet going now that I hope I can have finished before deadline. Maybe. Tonight we're going to watch Twilight: Eclipse at the second-run theatre. For the lolz.
I won't let you let me down so easily.
- 'I Will Possess Your Heart,' Death Cab for Cutie
So they walked. Or tried to.
Outside an all-night diner they laced paper cups of coffee liberally with firewhiskey - he had talked her into stopping so that they could try to sober up and Tonks had pulled a small flask from the calf of one boot, defeating the purpose with an entirety only she could manage. Remus made a joke about how she was turning into Mad-Eye, not a good thing because she was the type to use the power of x-ray vision maliciously. She agreed.
They wandered down the sidewalks, stumbling against each other. She led him into a tall, narrow brick building, up another M.C. Escher staircase to a bright blue door. Stopping on the landing, she swayed dangerously, then pulled her wand from under her skirt and made a complicated motion. The door clicked and swung open.
“The ‘lectricity is unreliable,” she flicked her wand again as she stepped through the doorway and a dozen candles lit around the cluttered room, along with a small fire in the grate. “My roommate is supposed to call about it tomorrow.”
“I forgot you had a roommate.”
Tonks tripped on the edge of a braided rug. He caught her arm.
“Miranda Thruston. She works nights at a radio station.”
“She’s a Muggle, right?” he asked, surveying the books lined up on the mantle; quite a few trashy romance novels, wrinkled and water-damaged from bathtub readings.
“She’s non-magical. A Squib, but I don’t like to use that word-”
Remus worried, momentarily, that she was about to go all Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare on him, but she continued:
“Sounds too much like squid. And she’s not, you know,” with an illustrative roll of her wrist, “Aquatic. She is definitely a land mammal.”
He realized he was still holding her arm and let go. Smiling, Tonks shucked off her jacket and threw it unceremoniously in the wicker laundry basket that occupied the sofa. The clutter in the living room was unquestionably female - glossy magazines and fuzzy blankets and teacups with lipstick marks. There were shoes everywhere. It even smelled girly, like orchids and chocolate (and inexplicably, sixth year Potions).
“Please ignore the mess, I haven’t been home in ages.”
“Have you ever seen the boys’ dorms at Hogwarts? Don’t answer that. So, Thruston,” he said quickly, pointing at an autographed poster. She was grinning now. “As in Orsino, as in the Weird Sisters?”
“His older sister, actually. We used to go out.”
“You dated his sister?” he asked (because you never know).
“I dated him.”
This was an interesting development, and it certainly explained the quantity and variety of her Weird Sisters concert t-shirts. Remus raised an eyebrow.
“It was a long time ago,” she clarified, sniffing.
He couldn’t help himself. “In a galaxy far, far away?”
“Merlin, I wish.” Nymphadora dropped into the chair behind her and began to pull off her boots. A pair of lacy stockings followed, and she sling-shotted one off her thumb at him. It hit a lampshade and hung there. “He’s three years younger than me, you know.”
Now what, he wondered, had she meant by that? He would’ve liked to think he knew her well enough to gauge whether she was dropping hints or just flirting for the fun of it (for which she was notorious).
Those arsenic gray eyes spoke for her - I didn’t think you would actually follow me home, she was saying, what do you want to do now? There were plenty of suggestions in the way she crossed her legs and sat back into the chair, but her eyes were bloodshot and her lips looked parched.
Lying to himself about it wouldn’t do any good - part of him was dying for whatever she was offering, but the rest of him wasn’t going to allow it (and then there was that whole could-never-forgive-himself thing, and he liked her too much for either of them to suffer through that). It was tempting. But he had filed her under the column Best Friends (though she had recently been bumped up in the standings) and that’s where she would stay. For now. Probably forever.
“Was there a shortage of men?” Remus finally asked, because it felt like a neutral thing to say.
“There always is. You wanna have a look around?” Tonks nudged her boots under the sofa. “I’ll give you the tour.”
He helped her up; she held his hand for too long as they walked down the hall, pointing out the bedrooms and study, bathroom and the French doors with peeling paint, leading onto the balcony. The clock on the mantel chimed just after midnight. She was starting to ache - there wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t hurt now.
“I’ll be right back, don’t get lost.”
Tonks ducked into the bathroom, leaving her lit wand on the edge of the sink while she splashed cold water on her face. It didn’t help the fuzzy feeling in her head, though it was time for another dose of the potion that Healer at the hospital had prescribed, anyway. She took a long gulp from the bottle and dried her face on a towel.
It had been more than a year since she'd had a bloke over, the flat was a disaster area, and she felt like the walking dead. A date this was not.
A strand of lank, dark hair fell in her eyes as she took out her piercings, a habit she had fallen into after a bad experience featuring Sirius, a kip at the kitchen table and one of Arthur’s prized nine-volt batteries, (though she harbored a suspicion it had been Remus’s idea all along).
He’d been there, laughing, when Sirius touched the battery to her lip ring, shouting “it’s aliiiive,” as she woke up screeching. Magic and electricity never fare well together; for several hours afterward she hadn’t been able to touch anything metal without sending up a shower of sparks. Remus had called her Tesla Coil for days (she’d had to go look that one up).
And of course it would happen this way, she thought, that after months of shameless flirting on her part, she finally had the man alone, in her flat, all vulnerable and in need of attention.
The Slytherin side of her (because there definitely was one) was gleefuly running through that list of inappropriate things she would have liked to do to him (or with him, or have done to her), but she knew him well enough to know that it wasn’t going to happen, natural human reaction to death or not.
Tonks didn’t think ‘human’ went very far in applying to either of them.
When she looked in the mirror again, she realized she had been crying. She hastily combed the snarls out of her hair, now a uniform wispy brown, and dried her eyes, pasting on a smile. When she stepped out into the dark hallway, he was gone.
***
Author: chococoffeekiss
Rating & Warnings: PG for drinking, language, innuendo and abuse of prescription medication. Mentions of an off-screen OC.
Prompt: Angst/Humour and Dragon
Format & Word Count: chaptered fic, 1136/approx. 4000
Summary: After the loss of a friend, the Order's two token shapeshifting freaks find comfort in the bottom of several bottles (and in each other).
Author’s Notes: Yay, part three! Almost done! I've got another happy little ficlet going now that I hope I can have finished before deadline. Maybe. Tonight we're going to watch Twilight: Eclipse at the second-run theatre. For the lolz.
I won't let you let me down so easily.
- 'I Will Possess Your Heart,' Death Cab for Cutie
So they walked. Or tried to.
Outside an all-night diner they laced paper cups of coffee liberally with firewhiskey - he had talked her into stopping so that they could try to sober up and Tonks had pulled a small flask from the calf of one boot, defeating the purpose with an entirety only she could manage. Remus made a joke about how she was turning into Mad-Eye, not a good thing because she was the type to use the power of x-ray vision maliciously. She agreed.
They wandered down the sidewalks, stumbling against each other. She led him into a tall, narrow brick building, up another M.C. Escher staircase to a bright blue door. Stopping on the landing, she swayed dangerously, then pulled her wand from under her skirt and made a complicated motion. The door clicked and swung open.
“The ‘lectricity is unreliable,” she flicked her wand again as she stepped through the doorway and a dozen candles lit around the cluttered room, along with a small fire in the grate. “My roommate is supposed to call about it tomorrow.”
“I forgot you had a roommate.”
Tonks tripped on the edge of a braided rug. He caught her arm.
“Miranda Thruston. She works nights at a radio station.”
“She’s a Muggle, right?” he asked, surveying the books lined up on the mantle; quite a few trashy romance novels, wrinkled and water-damaged from bathtub readings.
“She’s non-magical. A Squib, but I don’t like to use that word-”
Remus worried, momentarily, that she was about to go all Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare on him, but she continued:
“Sounds too much like squid. And she’s not, you know,” with an illustrative roll of her wrist, “Aquatic. She is definitely a land mammal.”
He realized he was still holding her arm and let go. Smiling, Tonks shucked off her jacket and threw it unceremoniously in the wicker laundry basket that occupied the sofa. The clutter in the living room was unquestionably female - glossy magazines and fuzzy blankets and teacups with lipstick marks. There were shoes everywhere. It even smelled girly, like orchids and chocolate (and inexplicably, sixth year Potions).
“Please ignore the mess, I haven’t been home in ages.”
“Have you ever seen the boys’ dorms at Hogwarts? Don’t answer that. So, Thruston,” he said quickly, pointing at an autographed poster. She was grinning now. “As in Orsino, as in the Weird Sisters?”
“His older sister, actually. We used to go out.”
“You dated his sister?” he asked (because you never know).
“I dated him.”
This was an interesting development, and it certainly explained the quantity and variety of her Weird Sisters concert t-shirts. Remus raised an eyebrow.
“It was a long time ago,” she clarified, sniffing.
He couldn’t help himself. “In a galaxy far, far away?”
“Merlin, I wish.” Nymphadora dropped into the chair behind her and began to pull off her boots. A pair of lacy stockings followed, and she sling-shotted one off her thumb at him. It hit a lampshade and hung there. “He’s three years younger than me, you know.”
Now what, he wondered, had she meant by that? He would’ve liked to think he knew her well enough to gauge whether she was dropping hints or just flirting for the fun of it (for which she was notorious).
Those arsenic gray eyes spoke for her - I didn’t think you would actually follow me home, she was saying, what do you want to do now? There were plenty of suggestions in the way she crossed her legs and sat back into the chair, but her eyes were bloodshot and her lips looked parched.
Lying to himself about it wouldn’t do any good - part of him was dying for whatever she was offering, but the rest of him wasn’t going to allow it (and then there was that whole could-never-forgive-himself thing, and he liked her too much for either of them to suffer through that). It was tempting. But he had filed her under the column Best Friends (though she had recently been bumped up in the standings) and that’s where she would stay. For now. Probably forever.
“Was there a shortage of men?” Remus finally asked, because it felt like a neutral thing to say.
“There always is. You wanna have a look around?” Tonks nudged her boots under the sofa. “I’ll give you the tour.”
He helped her up; she held his hand for too long as they walked down the hall, pointing out the bedrooms and study, bathroom and the French doors with peeling paint, leading onto the balcony. The clock on the mantel chimed just after midnight. She was starting to ache - there wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t hurt now.
“I’ll be right back, don’t get lost.”
Tonks ducked into the bathroom, leaving her lit wand on the edge of the sink while she splashed cold water on her face. It didn’t help the fuzzy feeling in her head, though it was time for another dose of the potion that Healer at the hospital had prescribed, anyway. She took a long gulp from the bottle and dried her face on a towel.
It had been more than a year since she'd had a bloke over, the flat was a disaster area, and she felt like the walking dead. A date this was not.
A strand of lank, dark hair fell in her eyes as she took out her piercings, a habit she had fallen into after a bad experience featuring Sirius, a kip at the kitchen table and one of Arthur’s prized nine-volt batteries, (though she harbored a suspicion it had been Remus’s idea all along).
He’d been there, laughing, when Sirius touched the battery to her lip ring, shouting “it’s aliiiive,” as she woke up screeching. Magic and electricity never fare well together; for several hours afterward she hadn’t been able to touch anything metal without sending up a shower of sparks. Remus had called her Tesla Coil for days (she’d had to go look that one up).
And of course it would happen this way, she thought, that after months of shameless flirting on her part, she finally had the man alone, in her flat, all vulnerable and in need of attention.
The Slytherin side of her (because there definitely was one) was gleefuly running through that list of inappropriate things she would have liked to do to him (or with him, or have done to her), but she knew him well enough to know that it wasn’t going to happen, natural human reaction to death or not.
Tonks didn’t think ‘human’ went very far in applying to either of them.
When she looked in the mirror again, she realized she had been crying. She hastily combed the snarls out of her hair, now a uniform wispy brown, and dried her eyes, pasting on a smile. When she stepped out into the dark hallway, he was gone.
***