Fic: Taking Leave (excerpt)
Author: shimotsuki
Title: Taking Leave (excerpt)
Rating & Warnings: PG, no warnings
Word Count: 670
Prompt(s): #6, argument
Summary: Time is running out; soon, Remus must leave on his mission to Greyback's pack. But Tonks doesn't want to let him go before he sees reason.
Notes: This story was meant to be the next piece in the Kaleidoscope series, picking up where A Moth to a Flame left off...but sadly I've only had time to finish the first scene, so here it is as an excerpt. I'll be posting the rest of the story on my LJ sometime in, oh, given my writing speed it may be a few more weeks. :/ (And now, off to enjoy getting caught up on reading all the new R/T stories from this event!)
Taking Leave
“To Sirius,” said Tonks, raising her glass of firewhisky.
“To Sirius,” Remus echoed, raising his own. “Good old Padfoot.” His voice cracked, but only the tiniest bit. When she drank, he did too, and he met her gaze straight on, with something that was almost a smile.
The warmth she felt, slowly lighting her up from inside, might have been from the firewhisky.
The Three Broomsticks was buzzing with noise and laughter and gossip-some of it even about Sirius, as the Evening Prophet had carried the sensational story of his posthumous acquittal. Tonks rather thought she saw people stealing sly glances in Remus’s direction before ducking their heads to whisper. Apparently, they hadn’t forgotten that he had been Sirius’s friend.
Madam Rosmerta certainly hadn’t forgotten. She’d brought them the firewhisky, setting each tumbler down on the table with a deliberate thunk. “On the house,” she said. “Toast him for me, will you?” She blinked hard before turning away.
Remus laughed, raw-edged but genuine. “Sirius always had a bit of a schoolboy crush on Rosmerta. I guess maybe she knew that.”
Tonks took another sip, watching him over the top of her glass. He’d barely been able to speak Sirius’s name aloud since the fight at the Ministry, and now here he was, laughing-laughing!-and even telling stories. Badgering him into joining her tonight might just have been the most useful thing she’d done in weeks.
“Did you two come here often?” she asked, fascinated, but then she winced at her own thoughtlessness. “That is-before-”
But Remus only smiled into his glass. “We did. Mostly when we were still at Hogwarts.”
Tonks snorted. “Rules didn’t slow you lot down very much.”
He turned his smile on her-a true smile, but shot through with a sadness that settled all too easily on his worn, tired face. She ached to reach out and curl her hand around his, to offer comfort and to find some for herself. The way she always used to do.
But when he wasn’t sipping his firewhisky, he kept his hands tucked carefully under the table.
“I remember once,” he began, slowly. His gaze slid out of focus, and he stared past her, into Rosmerta’s roaring fire. But his wistful smile sharpened, a little, until she could almost see the Marauder peeking through.
“Yeah?” Tonks leaned in toward him, planting her elbows on the table-one of them skidded right into a sticky patch, it was true, but that was what Scourgify was for. Some of the customers sitting along the bar counter were getting rowdy, and she didn’t want to miss a word, not when Remus was finally talking to her again. “Up to no good, were you?”
“You might say that.” He blinked, snapping back to the present, but with a gleam in his eye that she hadn’t seen in weeks. “We slipped out of school one evening and came down here, and-”
“I told you!”
The raucous shout cut straight through the usual cheerful chaos of the pub, and Remus wasn’t the only one to swallow a tale in the middle of the telling. Tonks looked up in time to see a tall, burly man slide off his barstool with a thump and wobble unsteadily on his feet.
“That one, there.”
The man flung his arm out, finger extended-pointing right at-them?
“He’s a werewolf.”
Tonks could only stare, helpless, as the sorely missed light in Remus’s eyes went out like a candle hit with a Nox.
“And what if he is?” Rosmerta’s voice rang out in challenge. “He’s a paying customer, same as you!”
But Remus flushed, pushing away the dregs of his firewhisky-which had, after all, been Rosmerta’s treat. He stood, very deliberately, and walked across the pub, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.
Tonks shook herself out of her gobsmacked stupor and hurried after him.
“Good night, Rosmerta,” said Remus, quietly. He pulled the door open and slipped out into the damp, chilly darkness.
(to be continued)
.
Title: Taking Leave (excerpt)
Rating & Warnings: PG, no warnings
Word Count: 670
Prompt(s): #6, argument
Summary: Time is running out; soon, Remus must leave on his mission to Greyback's pack. But Tonks doesn't want to let him go before he sees reason.
Notes: This story was meant to be the next piece in the Kaleidoscope series, picking up where A Moth to a Flame left off...but sadly I've only had time to finish the first scene, so here it is as an excerpt. I'll be posting the rest of the story on my LJ sometime in, oh, given my writing speed it may be a few more weeks. :/ (And now, off to enjoy getting caught up on reading all the new R/T stories from this event!)
Taking Leave
“To Sirius,” said Tonks, raising her glass of firewhisky.
“To Sirius,” Remus echoed, raising his own. “Good old Padfoot.” His voice cracked, but only the tiniest bit. When she drank, he did too, and he met her gaze straight on, with something that was almost a smile.
The warmth she felt, slowly lighting her up from inside, might have been from the firewhisky.
The Three Broomsticks was buzzing with noise and laughter and gossip-some of it even about Sirius, as the Evening Prophet had carried the sensational story of his posthumous acquittal. Tonks rather thought she saw people stealing sly glances in Remus’s direction before ducking their heads to whisper. Apparently, they hadn’t forgotten that he had been Sirius’s friend.
Madam Rosmerta certainly hadn’t forgotten. She’d brought them the firewhisky, setting each tumbler down on the table with a deliberate thunk. “On the house,” she said. “Toast him for me, will you?” She blinked hard before turning away.
Remus laughed, raw-edged but genuine. “Sirius always had a bit of a schoolboy crush on Rosmerta. I guess maybe she knew that.”
Tonks took another sip, watching him over the top of her glass. He’d barely been able to speak Sirius’s name aloud since the fight at the Ministry, and now here he was, laughing-laughing!-and even telling stories. Badgering him into joining her tonight might just have been the most useful thing she’d done in weeks.
“Did you two come here often?” she asked, fascinated, but then she winced at her own thoughtlessness. “That is-before-”
But Remus only smiled into his glass. “We did. Mostly when we were still at Hogwarts.”
Tonks snorted. “Rules didn’t slow you lot down very much.”
He turned his smile on her-a true smile, but shot through with a sadness that settled all too easily on his worn, tired face. She ached to reach out and curl her hand around his, to offer comfort and to find some for herself. The way she always used to do.
But when he wasn’t sipping his firewhisky, he kept his hands tucked carefully under the table.
“I remember once,” he began, slowly. His gaze slid out of focus, and he stared past her, into Rosmerta’s roaring fire. But his wistful smile sharpened, a little, until she could almost see the Marauder peeking through.
“Yeah?” Tonks leaned in toward him, planting her elbows on the table-one of them skidded right into a sticky patch, it was true, but that was what Scourgify was for. Some of the customers sitting along the bar counter were getting rowdy, and she didn’t want to miss a word, not when Remus was finally talking to her again. “Up to no good, were you?”
“You might say that.” He blinked, snapping back to the present, but with a gleam in his eye that she hadn’t seen in weeks. “We slipped out of school one evening and came down here, and-”
“I told you!”
The raucous shout cut straight through the usual cheerful chaos of the pub, and Remus wasn’t the only one to swallow a tale in the middle of the telling. Tonks looked up in time to see a tall, burly man slide off his barstool with a thump and wobble unsteadily on his feet.
“That one, there.”
The man flung his arm out, finger extended-pointing right at-them?
“He’s a werewolf.”
Tonks could only stare, helpless, as the sorely missed light in Remus’s eyes went out like a candle hit with a Nox.
“And what if he is?” Rosmerta’s voice rang out in challenge. “He’s a paying customer, same as you!”
But Remus flushed, pushing away the dregs of his firewhisky-which had, after all, been Rosmerta’s treat. He stood, very deliberately, and walked across the pub, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.
Tonks shook herself out of her gobsmacked stupor and hurried after him.
“Good night, Rosmerta,” said Remus, quietly. He pulled the door open and slipped out into the damp, chilly darkness.
(to be continued)
.