R/T Drabble: Ink Stains
Title: Ink Stains
Author: MrsTater
Rating: G
Format & Word Count: drabble, 384 words
Prompt: ink
Summary: Ted Tonks reacts to an announcement from his newlywed daughter.
Author's Note: For katyhasclogs, who had a earlier this week. My apologies -- I tried not to write you an angsty birthday drabble, but this furry little plot bunny bit and refused to let go. As I recall, though, you do like your R/T with a side order of angst, so I hope this will do. ;)
Ink Stains
Of all the things he could notice at this moment, as Dora's announcement hangs in the atmosphere of her parents' living room -- his mother-in-law's blinking grey eyes belying her usual unflappable demeanour; his father-in-law's sausage toes splaying out, then curling up, amidst the newspapers, magazines, empty crisp packets, and discarded dirty socks cluttering the floor around his favourite leather easy chair; the sheen of his wife's vivid pink hair above a heart-shaped face so happy she glows -- Remus is most conscious of the ink smudges he notices for the first time on his fingers as Dora twines them through hers.
When was the last time he put quill to parchment? Owls are too easily intercepted these days, so all Order correspondence occurs via Patronus. Certainly he hasn't been writing withdrawal slips from Gringott's, since Dora ignored a summons from the Wizengamot for an inquiry into a possible breech of the Ban On Experimental Breeding and the Ministry froze her -- their -- bank account. Maybe it's from that coded note he left Dora the other morning ('Rodent mating rituals require professor's expertise. I'll bring home takeaway and look forward to our mating rituals. XXX -R') which she never saw because she got home to find the landlord had learnt who -- what -- was living with her and changed the locks on her -- their -- flat.
"Well."
Ted's voice, gruff enough to make Mad-Eye sound like a sweet-talker, commands Remus' attention from his own ink-stained fingers to a pair of eyes fixed so hard on him that they're focused to pinpoints of black in the midst of a broad, reddened face.
"You couldn't wait for the ink to dry on your marriage certificate to start on the birth certificates, could you?" Paper, and maybe a few leftover crisps, crunches as he jumps to his bare feet. "Or is that why you were in such a bloody hurry to marry my Dora?"
"Dad!"
"Ted!"
Ashamed, Remus looks down at his hands clasped on his lap. He tries to rub the stains from his fingers, but quickly gives up the exercise in futility. His traitorous eyes wander to Dora's stomach, on which her own hands (one wearing a simple, impossibly small diamond ring) rest protectively.
His marriage license is signed in indelible ink.
Author: MrsTater
Rating: G
Format & Word Count: drabble, 384 words
Prompt: ink
Summary: Ted Tonks reacts to an announcement from his newlywed daughter.
Author's Note: For katyhasclogs, who had a earlier this week. My apologies -- I tried not to write you an angsty birthday drabble, but this furry little plot bunny bit and refused to let go. As I recall, though, you do like your R/T with a side order of angst, so I hope this will do. ;)
Ink Stains
Of all the things he could notice at this moment, as Dora's announcement hangs in the atmosphere of her parents' living room -- his mother-in-law's blinking grey eyes belying her usual unflappable demeanour; his father-in-law's sausage toes splaying out, then curling up, amidst the newspapers, magazines, empty crisp packets, and discarded dirty socks cluttering the floor around his favourite leather easy chair; the sheen of his wife's vivid pink hair above a heart-shaped face so happy she glows -- Remus is most conscious of the ink smudges he notices for the first time on his fingers as Dora twines them through hers.
When was the last time he put quill to parchment? Owls are too easily intercepted these days, so all Order correspondence occurs via Patronus. Certainly he hasn't been writing withdrawal slips from Gringott's, since Dora ignored a summons from the Wizengamot for an inquiry into a possible breech of the Ban On Experimental Breeding and the Ministry froze her -- their -- bank account. Maybe it's from that coded note he left Dora the other morning ('Rodent mating rituals require professor's expertise. I'll bring home takeaway and look forward to our mating rituals. XXX -R') which she never saw because she got home to find the landlord had learnt who -- what -- was living with her and changed the locks on her -- their -- flat.
"Well."
Ted's voice, gruff enough to make Mad-Eye sound like a sweet-talker, commands Remus' attention from his own ink-stained fingers to a pair of eyes fixed so hard on him that they're focused to pinpoints of black in the midst of a broad, reddened face.
"You couldn't wait for the ink to dry on your marriage certificate to start on the birth certificates, could you?" Paper, and maybe a few leftover crisps, crunches as he jumps to his bare feet. "Or is that why you were in such a bloody hurry to marry my Dora?"
"Dad!"
"Ted!"
Ashamed, Remus looks down at his hands clasped on his lap. He tries to rub the stains from his fingers, but quickly gives up the exercise in futility. His traitorous eyes wander to Dora's stomach, on which her own hands (one wearing a simple, impossibly small diamond ring) rest protectively.
His marriage license is signed in indelible ink.