Prompts 14, 16: Under the Influence
Title:Under the Influence
Author: jadeddiva
Format & Word Count: Extended Drabble, 882
Rating: PG=13 for a curse word
Prompt: 14 - accio, touch, beneath; 16 - interlude
Warnings: none
Summary: Tonks makes biscuits, Remus drinks wine, and everything changes.
Author's Notes: Written after an afternoon spent reading food blogs, watching Paula Deen, and trying oh-so-very-hard not to bake or drink red wine. (Also, written because there are no stories today and I feel like there needs to be some more Remus/Tonks love on my flist). The story has nothing to do with the title and is just an interlude, really.
Author’s Notes 2: I might love me some Paula, but Sandra Lee is my hero.
For all her incessant mothering and frenetic energy, Molly Weasley was a wonderful woman with a family of her own who cooked and cleaned for a bunch of ungrateful professionals (and a notorious ex-convict with a drinking problem) who spent as much time in the house as they spent dashing out of it. There is always food on the table or in the oven or the cupboards. There is always a freshly-made bed for tired Order members who worked the late shifts. And there is always tea and sympathy and maybe fresh biscuits, and Tonks always thinks there is never enough outward shows of appreciation for the woman who does not have to do any of this but who consistently manages to be amazing at every turn.
Molly’s birthday was yesterday, but Tonks’ shifts and a bad headache kept her from celebrating, something which made her feel awful but which she quickly resolved to fix almost immediately.
Molly had an affinity for almond biscuits, and the recipe’s right in front of her but she’s fairly certain she couldn’t get them right if her life depended on it. It’s not that they’re inedible - it’s that they’re not up to Molly’s standard, and she doesn’t think she can handle that woman’s frown after all her hard work (she holds Molly in quite high esteem and the thought of disapproval would be devastating).
“Fuck,” she says, dropping the hot pan onto the countertop. Her middle finger is red and stings from contact with the hot metal.
“Isn’t it a bit early for that?” someone asks. She glances up, relieved that the wry assumption has not come from Sirius but rather Remus, who has just entered the kitchen and brings with him a different set of problems.
“I believe that is a matter of personal choice,” she says, feigning nonchalance as she walks to the sink to put water on her burn.
“Don’t you have a wand for that?” Remus asks. She’s far more startled than she should be, and manages to stub her toe against a cupboard.
“Excuse me?” It’s hard to be scandalized when you’re hoping around on one leg with a burnt middle finger.
“For your finger,” he says. He takes his hand in hers (when did he get so close?) and, with a touch of his wand, performs a Healing Charm.
“Merlin, my mind’s in the gutter,” she says with a shaky smile (she is distracted by the smallness of her hand in his, and the warmth of his palm and the image of - ). “Thank you.”
“Of course. Do you happen to know if any of the wine Kingsley brought last night survived the onslaught?” he asks, letting go of her hand and opening the cupboard above the sink.
She shrugs. “I wasn’t here last night.”
“Really?” he asks. “Neither was I.”
“Oh,” she says softly, remembering that last night was the last of his transformations. “Well, maybe between the two of us we can figure it out?”
“You look busy,” he says. “Don’t want to distract you.”
“Just making some biscuits for Molly,” she says, testing one of the fresh ones. It’s fine, but she’s not sure if it’s Molly-perfect yet.
“Hmmm,” he says. “Accio Merlot.”
A half-full bottle of wine shoots from beneath the kitchen table, and Remus catches it.
“Sirius still down there?” she asks.
“Not by the looks of things,” he says. “Can I offer you a glass?”
“Not today, I’m afraid,” she says. “I’m on a mission.”
“And these biscuits for Molly require your full, sober attention?” he asks, leaning against the countertop and she wonders when he became such a distraction (albeit, a good one).
“I want them to perfect,” she says. “I want them to be Birthday Biscuits of Appreciation.”
“Isn’t that giving them a bit too much responsibility?” he asks, stealing one from the plate.
“I just want her to know how much I appreciate what she does,” she says, frowning. He bites into the biscuit.
“I’m sure she understands that, though food always helps,” he says. “These are actually decent, Tonks - I’m impressed.”
“Just decent? Thank you, Lupin, you’ve validated all my hard work.” She smiles at him, but she doesn’t miss the slight frown when she uses his last name instead of his first. She wants to tease him for being sensitive about it but things are changing and she’s not sure about the boundaries anymore.
“Well,” he says, with the bottle of wine in one hand and a wine glass in the other, “when your mission is concluded, you’re welcome to join me for some wine.” With a small smile, he exits the kitchen.
She looks at the plate, pushing biscuits around with her newly healed finger. She’s not sure when things started changing, just that they did and continue to change. A mere glance from Remus at the most inconvenient times can cause her to fumble more than usual, and some days his presence near her makes her dizzy (and she’s surprised how much she likes all of it).
With another look at the plate, she scribbles a quick note for Molly on a spare bit of parchment, and decides she could probably use a drink.
Author: jadeddiva
Format & Word Count: Extended Drabble, 882
Rating: PG=13 for a curse word
Prompt: 14 - accio, touch, beneath; 16 - interlude
Warnings: none
Summary: Tonks makes biscuits, Remus drinks wine, and everything changes.
Author's Notes: Written after an afternoon spent reading food blogs, watching Paula Deen, and trying oh-so-very-hard not to bake or drink red wine. (Also, written because there are no stories today and I feel like there needs to be some more Remus/Tonks love on my flist). The story has nothing to do with the title and is just an interlude, really.
Author’s Notes 2: I might love me some Paula, but Sandra Lee is my hero.
For all her incessant mothering and frenetic energy, Molly Weasley was a wonderful woman with a family of her own who cooked and cleaned for a bunch of ungrateful professionals (and a notorious ex-convict with a drinking problem) who spent as much time in the house as they spent dashing out of it. There is always food on the table or in the oven or the cupboards. There is always a freshly-made bed for tired Order members who worked the late shifts. And there is always tea and sympathy and maybe fresh biscuits, and Tonks always thinks there is never enough outward shows of appreciation for the woman who does not have to do any of this but who consistently manages to be amazing at every turn.
Molly’s birthday was yesterday, but Tonks’ shifts and a bad headache kept her from celebrating, something which made her feel awful but which she quickly resolved to fix almost immediately.
Molly had an affinity for almond biscuits, and the recipe’s right in front of her but she’s fairly certain she couldn’t get them right if her life depended on it. It’s not that they’re inedible - it’s that they’re not up to Molly’s standard, and she doesn’t think she can handle that woman’s frown after all her hard work (she holds Molly in quite high esteem and the thought of disapproval would be devastating).
“Fuck,” she says, dropping the hot pan onto the countertop. Her middle finger is red and stings from contact with the hot metal.
“Isn’t it a bit early for that?” someone asks. She glances up, relieved that the wry assumption has not come from Sirius but rather Remus, who has just entered the kitchen and brings with him a different set of problems.
“I believe that is a matter of personal choice,” she says, feigning nonchalance as she walks to the sink to put water on her burn.
“Don’t you have a wand for that?” Remus asks. She’s far more startled than she should be, and manages to stub her toe against a cupboard.
“Excuse me?” It’s hard to be scandalized when you’re hoping around on one leg with a burnt middle finger.
“For your finger,” he says. He takes his hand in hers (when did he get so close?) and, with a touch of his wand, performs a Healing Charm.
“Merlin, my mind’s in the gutter,” she says with a shaky smile (she is distracted by the smallness of her hand in his, and the warmth of his palm and the image of - ). “Thank you.”
“Of course. Do you happen to know if any of the wine Kingsley brought last night survived the onslaught?” he asks, letting go of her hand and opening the cupboard above the sink.
She shrugs. “I wasn’t here last night.”
“Really?” he asks. “Neither was I.”
“Oh,” she says softly, remembering that last night was the last of his transformations. “Well, maybe between the two of us we can figure it out?”
“You look busy,” he says. “Don’t want to distract you.”
“Just making some biscuits for Molly,” she says, testing one of the fresh ones. It’s fine, but she’s not sure if it’s Molly-perfect yet.
“Hmmm,” he says. “Accio Merlot.”
A half-full bottle of wine shoots from beneath the kitchen table, and Remus catches it.
“Sirius still down there?” she asks.
“Not by the looks of things,” he says. “Can I offer you a glass?”
“Not today, I’m afraid,” she says. “I’m on a mission.”
“And these biscuits for Molly require your full, sober attention?” he asks, leaning against the countertop and she wonders when he became such a distraction (albeit, a good one).
“I want them to perfect,” she says. “I want them to be Birthday Biscuits of Appreciation.”
“Isn’t that giving them a bit too much responsibility?” he asks, stealing one from the plate.
“I just want her to know how much I appreciate what she does,” she says, frowning. He bites into the biscuit.
“I’m sure she understands that, though food always helps,” he says. “These are actually decent, Tonks - I’m impressed.”
“Just decent? Thank you, Lupin, you’ve validated all my hard work.” She smiles at him, but she doesn’t miss the slight frown when she uses his last name instead of his first. She wants to tease him for being sensitive about it but things are changing and she’s not sure about the boundaries anymore.
“Well,” he says, with the bottle of wine in one hand and a wine glass in the other, “when your mission is concluded, you’re welcome to join me for some wine.” With a small smile, he exits the kitchen.
She looks at the plate, pushing biscuits around with her newly healed finger. She’s not sure when things started changing, just that they did and continue to change. A mere glance from Remus at the most inconvenient times can cause her to fumble more than usual, and some days his presence near her makes her dizzy (and she’s surprised how much she likes all of it).
With another look at the plate, she scribbles a quick note for Molly on a spare bit of parchment, and decides she could probably use a drink.