Misuse of Muggle Artifacts & Laughter
Mmmmkay, these are two slightly older fics of mine. I still like them enough to post here atm, but this may change immediately after posting, and I may have to run away hiding my face in shame. *shudder* Weak points abound, and when/if I have time I'm hoping to revise them.
The first is wicked short, the second a bit longer, but both are oneshots.
Title: Misuse of Muggle Artifacts
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus and Tonks
Rating: G
Summary: Bewitching a certain Muggle device causes raised eyebrows.
“Italian, is it?”
“Ten points to Hufflepuff, Miss Tonks, for that keen observation.” Remus smiled at his fiancée. She leaned with grace he doubted she knew she had upon the doorframe, legs crossed at the ankles. Not even the scuffed work boots on her feet could take away from the sight of her standing there, impish eyes locked on him. There was always something in those eyes of hers, a softness ‘round the mischievous edges that colored every look they gave and made them fully her own. “Romantic, yes?”
“May I ask where said lovely music is coming from?” She pushed off from the frame, losing the illusion of grace and tripping slightly into the room. His mouth turned up at one corner. “Don’t laugh, you,” she scolded, dropping heavily beside him onto the couch, fitting herself beneath his arm. “It can’t possibly still be funny after what, two years?”
“To answer both questions, yes, it is still funny, and over there.” He pointed at the device in the corner from which the dulcet tenor voice was wafting its delicate way throughout the house.
“Tinny little gadget, isn’t it?” He watched her shirt rise over the pale curve of her spine as she leaned forward to get a better look at the thing. “Doesn’t look like a wizard radio, or I probably would’ve heard this song before.”
He rolled his eyes, mock exasperation playing on his face. Long fingers traced the exposed band of skin across her back, enticing her to lean against him as before. “That would be because it is a muggle transistor radio, my ignorant pet, playing muggle music.”
A crooked little crease formed between pink eyebrows he would’ve laughed at had they been on someone else’s face. “I am quite familiar with muggle devices, Professor,” she assured, raising her face snippily to meet his. “My father had one or two of them at home while I still lived there. And I doubt an English muggle radio would pick up Italian stations, now, would it?”
A triumphant smile spread itself across her lips. So she thought she’d bested him, then, eh?
“That would be where you’re mistaken,” he said, assuming his best professor-voice. “An English muggle radio would indeed be able to pick up Italian stations in the hands of a sufficiently talented wizard.”
“I wonder which ‘sufficiently talented wizard’ came across this poor thing.” The mischievous tilt to her eyes found its way back with the smirk she pressed to his cheek. “He certainly doesn’t live here, or I’d have already turned him in to Misuse of Muggle Artifacts for tampering with muggle devices.”
“Must’ve scarpered when he heard you were coming, Auror Tonks, and in his haste left this contraption behind.”
He loved the familiar, easy way she laughed. He loved the way that laugh felt when he held her to his side.
“A regular Arthur Weasley, you are,” she said, smiling up into the eyes of her perpetrator, “I suppose I could let the offender slide this time.”
Title: Laughter
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus and Tonks
Rating: PG
Summary: Tonks gives her account of the night she met Remus John Lupin, and the first impressions formed therein.
One thing I noticed about him from the start was the bone-deep fatigue. I saw it there the very first night I met him, painfully evident in the way he held himself, in the way it made his worn clothes hang from his body. It was there in the lines marring an otherwise young face, in his light brown hair shot through with grey. That weariness was always there, every time I saw him, underlying every smile, every grimace, every laugh. It pulled his eyes down at the corners, so that though I could often see happiness there, even his joy seemed to ache.
But fatigue never stopped him from teasing me. The night I met him, I’d had the misfortune to be on night watch at Grimmauld Place. Well, it was misfortune at the time. After receiving proof of his identity, I managed, thanks to my awe-inspiring dexterity and depth perception, to hit myself in the face with the door.
The first words out of his mouth (after the token “are you alright?” of course) was something along the lines of “You must be this auror cousin Sirius’s told me so much about. Nymphadora Tonks, is it?” A smile curved up one corner of his mouth, and from that moment on I knew this man was never going to give me an easy time of anything. He continued, “Sirius said I’d be able to pick you out by your lack of coordination, if not the hair.”
I remember trying to twist my mouth out of a smile; I wasn’t about to grin like an idiot at a man who took cracks at me before he even introduced himself! But all the same, I liked him already. It wasn’t hard to tell why Sirius had been his friend at school, and if this man was anything like that dear cousin of mine, I found myself worrying exactly how much he’d been told about me. Being ribbed day in and day out by one man was enough; the last thing I needed was for Sirius to have armed himself a partner.
“Nice to know I’m distinctive,” I think I said back, before I led him inside and to the leftovers of that night’s dinner; Sirius and the rest had told me earlier to expect this Remus Lupin person, and Molly Weasley had also kindly informed me that she’d curse my ears inside-out if I didn’t feed the man. “And don’t call me Nymphadora.”
“What shall I call you, then?” he asked; I could tell he was terribly amused by my vehement hatred of my name.
“Just Tonks.”
“Alright then, ‘just Tonks,’ where might I look to find a teapot?”
“Ha ha, you’re funny.” I dripped sarcasm, pointing to the plates on the table. “You eat, I’ll find it,” and with that I hunted one down.
I plunked myself down at the table to wait while the tea brewed and his meal heated up. So long as he was asking questions, I decided it was time to ask some of my own. “So, Mister Lupin, since we’ll be working together, I figure I might as well ask. How’d Dumbledore rope you into this?”
“I volunteered. It’s the least I could do for everything the man’s done for me over the years,” he replied. I wondered what he meant by that, but something told me now wasn’t the most opportune moment to press the subject. “I take it you were recruited.”
“Yep.” I sipped my coffee, making a face at the taste; the stuff was freezing. I tried to ignore the sly little smirk he gave my grimace. “He showed up at the office one day and asked to speak to me. Didn’t beat around the bush, either; said it’d be even more dangerous than auror work, could very likely kill me at any time, and he’d understand completely if I declined to join the Order. To be honest, though, I never really thought about saying no.”
“So in other words, you’re asking for it.”
I had half a mind to throw something at him. And if I’d had anything other than a half-full mug of cold coffee at my disposal, I just might’ve. “Keep talking like that, and you’re the one who’ll be asking for it.” I countered with a sly smirk of my own, grumbling audibly under my breath, “Smart aleck still hasn’t even introduced himself and already he ribs me worse than Sirius.”
“Excuse me for being so rude,” he said, extending his hand with a flourish; that smirk of his hadn’t left yet. “Remus John Lupin at your service, resident Order lycanthrope.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “Lycanthrope? You’re a-?”
“Werewolf, yes.”
I gave him a quick, appraising look and tried to shrug off my awkward reaction, forcing the color down out of my neck. Trading quips was one thing, but being overtly rude was all the way out in another universe. “Who’d have thought-I mean, you don’t-Merlin’s beard, I’m sorry! I sound like a moron.”
“My, aren’t we unshakable this evening?” he said dryly, chuckling as he rose to retrieve the teapot. I couldn’t understand how he could keep smiling after the idiot things I’d said, and still look like he found me amusing. But then again, for all I knew he could be fuming at me. That was the last thing I wanted. I liked him already for having known the man for all of an hour, and he really was charming, with or without the wry sense of humor.
I did my best to stammer some sort of apology for being such a boorish little prat, but all he did was laugh. Which only put me farther off my already shoddy balance. I had no idea what to make of this man, no idea at all. He assured me it was fine, what I’d said, but that didn’t stop me from feeling rotten about it.
“Believe me, dear,” he said when I insisted on apologizing again, “if I can make cracks about it and laugh, your slip is nothing.”
All of a sudden I was nervous. So, before we got the chance to lapse into uncomfortable silence, I got up to retrieve his warmed-over dinner and asked if he wanted me to go get my cousin, you know, so they could do some catching up and all that. He declined.
“Let the old sleeping dog lie,” he said, glancing up at the clock on the wall; by then it was well past one. “Sirius can wait until morning. He’d probably rather wait, now that you mention it.” Well, the man had manners, if nothing else besides that smart mouth I’d already been privy to and a tendency to go a bit furry at the full moon.
I don’t think we talked for a while after that; not many people do when they’ve got Molly Weasley’s famous cooking in front of them, cold and reheated or not. I’d just gotten through the night’s fifth cup of coffee and poured myself a sixth, when the next thing I knew he was throwing another wry remark at me.
“How can you drink that stuff? There’s no way it can be any better for you than going around hitting yourself with doors.” As if to prove his point, he threw back half a mug of Earl Grey and shot my coffee quite the disapproving look.
“Keeps me awake enough to deal with strangers who insult me at two in the morning.” I said dryly, shooting him a look over the edge of my mug. I hid my smirk in the coffee.
“It wasn’t an insult!” he insisted, mock-injured, brown eyes alight despite their weary tilt. “I was merely restating what a friend had informed me would identify you.”
“Yeah, sure, and I bet Sirius conveniently left out that I could hex your ass to Scotland and back.”
“To tell the truth, I thought I was being considerate.” The sly grin splitting that tired face did nothing to put my mind at ease. He tried to hide the yawn I could see was coming on; he looked exhausted, now that I noticed it, but those eyes were still alight with the same mischievous glint as before. “Sirius’ exact words were that you couldn’t be any more spastic if we fed you caffeine through an IV drip.”
I couldn’t help but give a twisted little smile myself at that one, half because Sirius was going to get it in the morning, half because I couldn’t deny he was right. “Oh, you’re too kind. Remind me to thank you the next time someone points out I’m a clumsy oaf.”
That sobered him up a little; he hadn’t expected the pink-haired pup would snap, however unintentional it’d been on my part. “I’m sorry,” he said, flicking a sheepish glance to my face and then back to his tea. “Went a bit too far, didn’t I?”
“Nah,” I assured him, “Where’s the harm when it’s all true, anyway? Nothing I can’t laugh at.” If he could laugh at lycanthropy, I could afford to take my shortcomings in stride. I tossed the unruly pink strands from my face and got up to pour a seventh cup of coffee. “I’ve been a klutz since I was a kid. Even broke my leg learning to walk, not that I remember it. My dad still won’t let that one go.”
Remus laughed, his voice spilling out in a low, smooth rumble. The sound was more inviting than anything I’d heard in quite some time, warm and alive and animated even as the rest of him looked about to collapse onto the table. “Having acknowledged said clumsiness, you still insist on pouring more caffeine into your system. And that is a wise thing to do on what planet?”
I raised my mug to him. “Liquid gold, this is, don’t you ever think otherwise!” He laughed again, and this time I joined in myself. His was an easy, comfortable sort of laugh, if that makes any sense. The kind of sound you could wrap around yourself, curl up and fall asleep in. I remember, even on that first night, wanting to make sure I would hear that laughter often.
It wasn’t long after I met him, maybe a few months, when I realized…I wanted to be the one to make that charming, funny man with the tired eyes laugh. I wanted to wrap myself up and fall asleep in the sound of it. I wanted to make him laugh for as long as he’d let me.