As Time Goes By
Title: As Time Goes By
Author: jesspallas
Format & Word Count: Short fic - 1432 words
Rating: PG
Prompt: Eleven - “They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” - Andy Warhol
Summary: To his surprise, the expression that Tonks fixed him with was noticeably serious. "Remus," she stated brusquely. "Do you want to be old?"
Author's Note: Well, I said I’d try a lighter fic and so here it is. It’s set during OoTP and tied into to JKR’s passing mention of Lupin helping to fix a psychotic grandfather clock at Grimmauld Place. ;)
“You were attacked by a grandfather clock?”
Remus attempted a smile but a particularly sharp jerk of his bruised forearm wiped the expression away in an instant. Tentatively he cradled the blossoming red-purple skin with his free hand and sighed deeply. It had seemed such a good idea at the time, reaching one arm around the corner to slam the ugly, cast-iron grandfather clock with a spell before it struck any of the children with the flying bolts it had spent the morning spewing at anyone who dared to pass within five yards of it. Unfortunately the ancient piece of Black furniture’s reactions had proved depressingly faster than his.
“I’m afraid so,” he replied, watching Tonks as she rummaged hurriedly through her robes in search the healing salve that she so earnestly assured him that her mother had made her carry everywhere since she was five years old. “Ravaged by time, that’s me.”
Tonks raised an eyebrow but the corners of her lips were curling slightly as she reached into a deep pocket of her Auror robes. “So much for time heals all wounds.”
Remus grinned in spite of the surging pain that was rampaging through his arm. He knew a challenge when he heard one.
“Well, time is swift,” he offered thoughtfully. “And as they say, for everything there is a season, a time to be born and a time to die, a time to dodge and a time to duck…”
“Well, there was no time like the present to remember that and you blew it. Aha!” With a triumphant exclamation, Tonks pulled a small, sturdy jar out of her robes. “I can’t tell you how many of these I smashed before I learned how to charm them unbreakable. Hold still.”
Her hand closed with gentle sensitivity around his wrist as she scooped a finger’s worth of lavender goo out of the container and began to stroke it gently over the heavily bruised skin. Remus winced as both pain and coldness rippled through his arm but after a moment or two the chilly gel began to work its own brand of magic and soothed the stinging pain down to the level of a dull roar. He felt himself sigh almost audibly with relief.
Tonks was grinning at him, her dark eyes dancing as her fingers continued to caress the damaged skin in an oddly distracting manner. “Better?”
Remus nodded blissfully. “Much. I suppose I was lucky to escape with just bruising though.” He adopted a playfully lofty expression. “After all, men - or werewolves - talk of killing time while time not-so-damned-quietly tries to kill them.”
"Well in your case, a hex in time saved nine." At his quizzical look, she removed her now somewhat greasy fingers and counted briskly. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny, Molly, Arthur and Sirius. Nine residents at twelve Grimmauld Place saved from a psychopathic Grim Reaper of a clock. You're the hero of the hour."
Remus groaned. "All right, mercy, please. No more time jokes."
"And about time too." At Remus' pointed look, Tonks laughed. "Don't worry, Remus, I'm all done. I was down to time is money anyway and that would have been an interesting one to try and work in."
"Hmmm." Remus lifted his arm, working it experimentally. The pain was still present, deep within the bone, but at least the limb was now workable. "Time does have something to answer for though," he remarked absently. "I've been ravaged by its passing in more ways than losing a skirmish with an irate clock. My reflexes used to be far better than this." He pulled a face. "Alas, that's the price of getting old."
Tonks gave a distinctly unladylike snort. "Don't be daft, Remus. You're not old. You're a while off forty yet, not shaping up for a Zimmer frame and inch thick spectacles. You're a good ten years younger than my mum and if I called her old, she'd hang me by my ankles from the washing line and beat me with Mrs Miggins Magicial Home Help Journal until I recanted. And that thing's bloody thick."
Remus smiled in spite of himself. "Do I hear the voice of experience?"
Tonks grinned. "Why do you think I dislike householdy spells so much?"
Settling his still fragile arm as comfortably as possible against the tabletop, Remus leaned back in his chair. "Still," he said with more than a slight hint of resignation. "Whether I'm technically old or not, there's no denying the change time has wrought on my reaction time. Otherwise we wouldn't be sitting here staring at the shifting patterns of my amazing technicolor bruises."
To his surprise, the expression that Tonks fixed him with was noticeably serious. "Remus," she stated brusquely. "Do you want to be old?"
"I prefer it to the alternative."
"You know what I mean."
Remus sighed. "I know. And I don't particularly want to get older but what choice is there? It'll happen whether I want it to or not."
But Tonks was shaking her head. "Physically maybe. But honestly Remus, take it from someone who can appear any age she chooses to - age is less about the body and more about state of mind. Fine, you're slowing down - it happens. But for goodness sake, don't sit there and tell yourself you're old because if you do you'll start to believe it. And if you believe it, you'll act it. And then you really will be old." She smiled suddenly. "Look at Professor Dumbledore. If he wasted time and effort thinking of himself as old, he'd never get anything done. But there he is still doling out lemon drops after well over a century." Her smile faded to pointedness once more. "So trust me, Remus. "You are not old. Not unless you choose to be. If you think like a sixteen year old, who cares if you're getting a bit saggy here and there?"
Remus couldn't help but feel the latter was a little uncalled for. "Saggy?" he protested mildly. "I wouldn't say I'm that far gone."
Tonks beamed. "See, that's the spirit!" she exclaimed. "We'll have your brain back in fifth year in no time."
Remus started to cross his arms but a jerk of pain reminded him why that would not be a good idea. "If my brain goes back to fifth year," he remarked archly, "then putting me in a room with an attractive twenty-something metamorphmagus would mean I'd never get anything done."
The words had left his lips before they took the time to run through the perilous comment screening system he’d so laboriously set up inside his brain - it was not until the flashed hint of a blush darted over Tonks' cheeks that dawning realisation took hold.
Ah. Ummm...Uh oh…
Oh, wonderful. Now what? Did he retract it and risk offending her? Did he tell her he didn't think of her that way? Or did he admit that it was indeed the truth and scare the poor girl senseless at the prospect that some dirty old lecherous werewolf might be having fantasies about her in…
No. Better not follow that train of thought. That way lay madness and dangerous mental imagery.
She’s just a friend. A good friend. A nice friend. It's the pain, the pain distracted me and...
But thanks be to the shining stars, Tonks saved him from his dilemma with a sudden, broad smile and a chuckle. "I hope you don't mind me saying, Remus, but I can't see you as the Hogwarts lothario."
Relief, vast and powerful, swept through Remus, entirely swamping a ridiculous little corner of him that had sparked briefly with disappointment. Don't be a prat, Lupin...
"I wasn't as bad as James and Sirius," he replied with faux casual ease. "But I was a teenage boy."
"That's good to know." Tonks smiled once more as she rose, tucking her salve into her robes once more. "I have to go," she told him suddenly. "Work and all that. But you work on that fifth year mind trick, Remus." Her smile was edged abruptly with wickedness. "I'd be quite interested to meet that oh-so-distractible sixteen year old."
And before Remus could quite fathom out how to reactivate his mouth, she had swept up the steps and vanished into the hallway.
Remus knew there and then that something between them had changed.
And to his surprise, he found he really didn’t mind at all.
So. She wanted his sixteen-year-old brain, did she? Well in that case…
Hmmmm… Now where did I leave that dangerous mental imagery?
Author: jesspallas
Format & Word Count: Short fic - 1432 words
Rating: PG
Prompt: Eleven - “They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” - Andy Warhol
Summary: To his surprise, the expression that Tonks fixed him with was noticeably serious. "Remus," she stated brusquely. "Do you want to be old?"
Author's Note: Well, I said I’d try a lighter fic and so here it is. It’s set during OoTP and tied into to JKR’s passing mention of Lupin helping to fix a psychotic grandfather clock at Grimmauld Place. ;)
“You were attacked by a grandfather clock?”
Remus attempted a smile but a particularly sharp jerk of his bruised forearm wiped the expression away in an instant. Tentatively he cradled the blossoming red-purple skin with his free hand and sighed deeply. It had seemed such a good idea at the time, reaching one arm around the corner to slam the ugly, cast-iron grandfather clock with a spell before it struck any of the children with the flying bolts it had spent the morning spewing at anyone who dared to pass within five yards of it. Unfortunately the ancient piece of Black furniture’s reactions had proved depressingly faster than his.
“I’m afraid so,” he replied, watching Tonks as she rummaged hurriedly through her robes in search the healing salve that she so earnestly assured him that her mother had made her carry everywhere since she was five years old. “Ravaged by time, that’s me.”
Tonks raised an eyebrow but the corners of her lips were curling slightly as she reached into a deep pocket of her Auror robes. “So much for time heals all wounds.”
Remus grinned in spite of the surging pain that was rampaging through his arm. He knew a challenge when he heard one.
“Well, time is swift,” he offered thoughtfully. “And as they say, for everything there is a season, a time to be born and a time to die, a time to dodge and a time to duck…”
“Well, there was no time like the present to remember that and you blew it. Aha!” With a triumphant exclamation, Tonks pulled a small, sturdy jar out of her robes. “I can’t tell you how many of these I smashed before I learned how to charm them unbreakable. Hold still.”
Her hand closed with gentle sensitivity around his wrist as she scooped a finger’s worth of lavender goo out of the container and began to stroke it gently over the heavily bruised skin. Remus winced as both pain and coldness rippled through his arm but after a moment or two the chilly gel began to work its own brand of magic and soothed the stinging pain down to the level of a dull roar. He felt himself sigh almost audibly with relief.
Tonks was grinning at him, her dark eyes dancing as her fingers continued to caress the damaged skin in an oddly distracting manner. “Better?”
Remus nodded blissfully. “Much. I suppose I was lucky to escape with just bruising though.” He adopted a playfully lofty expression. “After all, men - or werewolves - talk of killing time while time not-so-damned-quietly tries to kill them.”
"Well in your case, a hex in time saved nine." At his quizzical look, she removed her now somewhat greasy fingers and counted briskly. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny, Molly, Arthur and Sirius. Nine residents at twelve Grimmauld Place saved from a psychopathic Grim Reaper of a clock. You're the hero of the hour."
Remus groaned. "All right, mercy, please. No more time jokes."
"And about time too." At Remus' pointed look, Tonks laughed. "Don't worry, Remus, I'm all done. I was down to time is money anyway and that would have been an interesting one to try and work in."
"Hmmm." Remus lifted his arm, working it experimentally. The pain was still present, deep within the bone, but at least the limb was now workable. "Time does have something to answer for though," he remarked absently. "I've been ravaged by its passing in more ways than losing a skirmish with an irate clock. My reflexes used to be far better than this." He pulled a face. "Alas, that's the price of getting old."
Tonks gave a distinctly unladylike snort. "Don't be daft, Remus. You're not old. You're a while off forty yet, not shaping up for a Zimmer frame and inch thick spectacles. You're a good ten years younger than my mum and if I called her old, she'd hang me by my ankles from the washing line and beat me with Mrs Miggins Magicial Home Help Journal until I recanted. And that thing's bloody thick."
Remus smiled in spite of himself. "Do I hear the voice of experience?"
Tonks grinned. "Why do you think I dislike householdy spells so much?"
Settling his still fragile arm as comfortably as possible against the tabletop, Remus leaned back in his chair. "Still," he said with more than a slight hint of resignation. "Whether I'm technically old or not, there's no denying the change time has wrought on my reaction time. Otherwise we wouldn't be sitting here staring at the shifting patterns of my amazing technicolor bruises."
To his surprise, the expression that Tonks fixed him with was noticeably serious. "Remus," she stated brusquely. "Do you want to be old?"
"I prefer it to the alternative."
"You know what I mean."
Remus sighed. "I know. And I don't particularly want to get older but what choice is there? It'll happen whether I want it to or not."
But Tonks was shaking her head. "Physically maybe. But honestly Remus, take it from someone who can appear any age she chooses to - age is less about the body and more about state of mind. Fine, you're slowing down - it happens. But for goodness sake, don't sit there and tell yourself you're old because if you do you'll start to believe it. And if you believe it, you'll act it. And then you really will be old." She smiled suddenly. "Look at Professor Dumbledore. If he wasted time and effort thinking of himself as old, he'd never get anything done. But there he is still doling out lemon drops after well over a century." Her smile faded to pointedness once more. "So trust me, Remus. "You are not old. Not unless you choose to be. If you think like a sixteen year old, who cares if you're getting a bit saggy here and there?"
Remus couldn't help but feel the latter was a little uncalled for. "Saggy?" he protested mildly. "I wouldn't say I'm that far gone."
Tonks beamed. "See, that's the spirit!" she exclaimed. "We'll have your brain back in fifth year in no time."
Remus started to cross his arms but a jerk of pain reminded him why that would not be a good idea. "If my brain goes back to fifth year," he remarked archly, "then putting me in a room with an attractive twenty-something metamorphmagus would mean I'd never get anything done."
The words had left his lips before they took the time to run through the perilous comment screening system he’d so laboriously set up inside his brain - it was not until the flashed hint of a blush darted over Tonks' cheeks that dawning realisation took hold.
Ah. Ummm...Uh oh…
Oh, wonderful. Now what? Did he retract it and risk offending her? Did he tell her he didn't think of her that way? Or did he admit that it was indeed the truth and scare the poor girl senseless at the prospect that some dirty old lecherous werewolf might be having fantasies about her in…
No. Better not follow that train of thought. That way lay madness and dangerous mental imagery.
She’s just a friend. A good friend. A nice friend. It's the pain, the pain distracted me and...
But thanks be to the shining stars, Tonks saved him from his dilemma with a sudden, broad smile and a chuckle. "I hope you don't mind me saying, Remus, but I can't see you as the Hogwarts lothario."
Relief, vast and powerful, swept through Remus, entirely swamping a ridiculous little corner of him that had sparked briefly with disappointment. Don't be a prat, Lupin...
"I wasn't as bad as James and Sirius," he replied with faux casual ease. "But I was a teenage boy."
"That's good to know." Tonks smiled once more as she rose, tucking her salve into her robes once more. "I have to go," she told him suddenly. "Work and all that. But you work on that fifth year mind trick, Remus." Her smile was edged abruptly with wickedness. "I'd be quite interested to meet that oh-so-distractible sixteen year old."
And before Remus could quite fathom out how to reactivate his mouth, she had swept up the steps and vanished into the hallway.
Remus knew there and then that something between them had changed.
And to his surprise, he found he really didn’t mind at all.
So. She wanted his sixteen-year-old brain, did she? Well in that case…
Hmmmm… Now where did I leave that dangerous mental imagery?