(no subject)
Title: Dinner at Grimmauld
Author: phe_o
Format/Word Count: Fic Chapter, 1,446
Rating: PG-13 for some language and slight ogling
Prompts: 1, photo of an old woman; 13, “accio, touch, beneath”; 15, photo of a scroll; 20, “genre: romance”; 27, “spoon” (or spooon! =) ).
Summary: “Nymphadora Tonks had been regaling them all with her tales of both childhood and Aurorhood… and for some reason, it made Remus feel a bit ecstatic and a bit sick at the same time.”
Author’s Note: This is chapter two for my story, ”Adoring Nymphadora”, which I started ages and ages ago. The prompts inspired me, though, so I thought I’d pick it back up! You don’t have to read the first chapter at all to get this. The same goes for its companion piece, ”Moony Over Moony”, also in need of updates! Just some fluffy moments, mainly…
Remus was finding it quite hard to swallow the vegetables in his mouth, but not just because of their temperature. Nymphadora Tonks had been regaling them all with her tales of both childhood and Aurorhood, much to a drunken Sirius’s delight, and for some reason, it made Remus feel a bit ecstatic and a bit sick at the same time.
While he found the tales of taunting Peeves, impersonating Flitwick, and chasing after reported “dark wizards” who turned out to be no more than clueless Muggle band members or, in one case, a very nervous young mortician, very engaging, he also couldn’t help but admire the way Tonks could tell a story. One minute, Filius Flitwick’s pointed nose was in his face, causing him to nearly choke on his stew; the next, she was a famous Muggle singer with pale skin and racooned eyes.
“I did manage to get his autograph, though,” she said cheerfully, bumping her wine glass as she leaned in for a bite of her own stew.
Remus stared, transfixed, as the lank black hair she had transformed faded and shrank into the pink spikes he’d seen when he had first laid eyes on her.
Amazing.
“Remus?”
Remus looked down into the eyes of the person he was staring at and realized that Tonks had been talking to him.
“Yes, Nymphadora?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as if he’d just been staring at her and admiring both her ability and her appearance whilst feeling both elated and nauseated.
Her eyebrows drew into a perfect “V” and he wondered if metamorphosing had anything to do with it. Then he wondered if she had indeed known all along just what he was thinking or what he was feeling, and was either about to offer him some advice on where to shove his unwelcome and inappropriate thoughts or a sick bag.
But neither was the case. “Don’t call me Nymphadora, Remus.”
Sod it all. She had mentioned that hatred of her first name. It was easy to forget, Remus reconciled with himself, when it was such a lovely name to begin with. “I do apologize, Tonks. I had forgotten.”
She smiled; the “V” disappeared as if it had never been there. Remus wondered if she could metamorphose any other alphabetical-or numerical, even-characters in her own skin. Then he decided that his thoughts had just gone from attracted to mental.
“It’s alright, Remus. Seeing as we just met, I think I can let this one time pass.” She paused in lifting her goblet. “Just this once, though!”
She went back to her storytelling, this time a tale about a cranky old goblin who had reported a stolen tea set from a “dark witch,” which had turned out to be a beady-eyed old squib who had inherited the old tray and kettle from a deceased friend who had worked at the Ministry.
Remus chuckled as she morphed into the old woman, a look of sheer surprise on her face. “Dark witch?” she wheezed, her wrinkled fingers flying to her mouth. “Me? Heavens, I’d be lucky to pull of a card trick. Can’t even get the lids off my medication, let alone do magic. Never was one for magic, you know.” Tonks wheezed again, and Sirius laughed as Kingsley rolled his eyes, apparently having heard the story before.
Remus was delighted. He’d never met a witch so confident with herself that she would willingly change her appearance to something like this old woman so easily, effortlessly, it seemed, and do such an entertaining impersonation. Then he felt sick again because he remembered this was Sirius’s little cousin he was thinking about, and that she was at least a decade younger than him, if not more.
She went on, mimicking the old woman calling her grandson on a Muggle telephone to come and visit-“have you got any of that Loo powder left, Chester?”-so he could read her the instructions on the tiny pill bottle.
Tonks dramatically raised her hand in the air, her old woman voice quivering-“I don’t ask you for much, now, do I, Chester? Your dear old granny?”-when her spoon went flying out of her hand, clattering on the floor beneath the cabinets.
“Bugger!” Tonks muttered, and this time Kingsley did laugh-likely because it sounded quite odd from the old squib’s face. Remus laughed as well, but then found that his laugh was strangled in his throat as Tonks leaned over to pick up the spoon, her jean-clad bum raised directly in his line of vision.
Merlin.
She wiggled it, too, just then, trying to reach the spoon, surely-but in the process, also making Remus certain that he was way too old for her because he knew he was about to have a heart attack.
“Let me,” he finally offered, reaching for his wand as she wiggled further to reach the spoon. “Accio spoon.”
“Thank you, Remus,” she beamed, sitting up; and as he gave the spoon back to her, his hand brushed hers; and as their eyes met, her face dropped the morph so fast he would have sworn it hadn’t been there all the time if he hadn’t known better, and that lovely pink hair returned, this time accompanied by a complimentary glow in her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said again, grinning.
Suddenly Remus felt very hot. Grabbing his water goblet, he managed, “Not at all.”
As Tonks cleaned off her spoon, Sirius began boasting-with a bit of a slur-about their glory days at Hogwarts once again.
Remus, both amused and wary, said, “Sirius, do we really need to hear this story?”
“Yes, we do!” Tonks said, and Remus found the enthusiasm in her voice so attractive that he didn’t bother to argue.
As Tonks listened to Sirius tell about the time they put a Singing Charm on Snape-they, of course, meaning Sirius and James, Remus thought, but didn’t say anything-to make him break into Etheralla Dewlocke songs every time he spoke to Lily Evans, Tonks grinned, lifting her goblet to her lips.
Kingsley broke in to explain, at Tonks’s puzzled expression, that Etheralla Dewlocke had been a lounge singer that would have put Celestina Warbuck to shame-with a rather misty twinkle in his eye, Remus would have noticed, if he hadn’t been staring at Tonks once more.
He watched her swallow the burgundy liquid-quite gracefully, he noted absently, for someone who had dropped the entire basket of bread and toppled her own chair just before dinner.
Her throat was long and lean- not swanlike because swans certainly didn’t wear necklaces that looked more like dog collars with strange, neon spikey things sticking out from them, did they?-but still quite milky-looking and still very lovely.
Remus blinked and quickly looked around the room, as if making sure none had heard his rather inappropriate line of thinking. Satisfied that he was indeed alone with his thoughts, or as alone as one could be at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place these days, he allowed his eyes to leisurely scan her features again.
He could make out a small mole near her collar bone, which made his stomach drop a little. He decided that he liked that she didn’t morph it away.
At the nape of her neck, where the finest little pink hairs lay, he noted that there was a tiny tattoo of-a badger?
“Hufflepuff?”
Tonks dabbed a droplet of wine away with her thumb and looked at him. “Sorry?”
So much for not voicing his thoughts aloud.
“I, ah, I asked if you were in Hufflepuff?”
Sirius glared-or at least, tried to, as he swayed a little in his chair-at his friend for interrupting his story.
“Yeah, actually,” Tonks smiled, her eyes lighting up. “How did you know?”
Remus tried to think of something else to say that would cause her eyes to light up like that again but decided against all of them. Surely “there’s something in your eye” wouldn’t have the desired effect?
“Ah, you, you’re,” Remus glanced down at her. “Your purse.”
Tonks raised an eyebrow, and followed his gaze to her rather large yellow messenger bag. Sure enough, it had a small badger button keeping its overflowing contents from spilling onto the floor.
“Oh, right.” She pushed one of the scrolls sticking out of the bag further in, then smiled up at him. “I thought you might have seen my badger tattoo or something.”
Remus raised his eyebrows. “Oh, indeed. I believe I may have seen that earlier, before the meeting, maybe.”
She cast a knowing smile at him and he knew, right then, that he was done for.
(to be continued...sometime!)
Author: phe_o
Format/Word Count: Fic Chapter, 1,446
Rating: PG-13 for some language and slight ogling
Prompts: 1, photo of an old woman; 13, “accio, touch, beneath”; 15, photo of a scroll; 20, “genre: romance”; 27, “spoon” (or spooon! =) ).
Summary: “Nymphadora Tonks had been regaling them all with her tales of both childhood and Aurorhood… and for some reason, it made Remus feel a bit ecstatic and a bit sick at the same time.”
Author’s Note: This is chapter two for my story, ”Adoring Nymphadora”, which I started ages and ages ago. The prompts inspired me, though, so I thought I’d pick it back up! You don’t have to read the first chapter at all to get this. The same goes for its companion piece, ”Moony Over Moony”, also in need of updates! Just some fluffy moments, mainly…
Remus was finding it quite hard to swallow the vegetables in his mouth, but not just because of their temperature. Nymphadora Tonks had been regaling them all with her tales of both childhood and Aurorhood, much to a drunken Sirius’s delight, and for some reason, it made Remus feel a bit ecstatic and a bit sick at the same time.
While he found the tales of taunting Peeves, impersonating Flitwick, and chasing after reported “dark wizards” who turned out to be no more than clueless Muggle band members or, in one case, a very nervous young mortician, very engaging, he also couldn’t help but admire the way Tonks could tell a story. One minute, Filius Flitwick’s pointed nose was in his face, causing him to nearly choke on his stew; the next, she was a famous Muggle singer with pale skin and racooned eyes.
“I did manage to get his autograph, though,” she said cheerfully, bumping her wine glass as she leaned in for a bite of her own stew.
Remus stared, transfixed, as the lank black hair she had transformed faded and shrank into the pink spikes he’d seen when he had first laid eyes on her.
Amazing.
“Remus?”
Remus looked down into the eyes of the person he was staring at and realized that Tonks had been talking to him.
“Yes, Nymphadora?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as if he’d just been staring at her and admiring both her ability and her appearance whilst feeling both elated and nauseated.
Her eyebrows drew into a perfect “V” and he wondered if metamorphosing had anything to do with it. Then he wondered if she had indeed known all along just what he was thinking or what he was feeling, and was either about to offer him some advice on where to shove his unwelcome and inappropriate thoughts or a sick bag.
But neither was the case. “Don’t call me Nymphadora, Remus.”
Sod it all. She had mentioned that hatred of her first name. It was easy to forget, Remus reconciled with himself, when it was such a lovely name to begin with. “I do apologize, Tonks. I had forgotten.”
She smiled; the “V” disappeared as if it had never been there. Remus wondered if she could metamorphose any other alphabetical-or numerical, even-characters in her own skin. Then he decided that his thoughts had just gone from attracted to mental.
“It’s alright, Remus. Seeing as we just met, I think I can let this one time pass.” She paused in lifting her goblet. “Just this once, though!”
She went back to her storytelling, this time a tale about a cranky old goblin who had reported a stolen tea set from a “dark witch,” which had turned out to be a beady-eyed old squib who had inherited the old tray and kettle from a deceased friend who had worked at the Ministry.
Remus chuckled as she morphed into the old woman, a look of sheer surprise on her face. “Dark witch?” she wheezed, her wrinkled fingers flying to her mouth. “Me? Heavens, I’d be lucky to pull of a card trick. Can’t even get the lids off my medication, let alone do magic. Never was one for magic, you know.” Tonks wheezed again, and Sirius laughed as Kingsley rolled his eyes, apparently having heard the story before.
Remus was delighted. He’d never met a witch so confident with herself that she would willingly change her appearance to something like this old woman so easily, effortlessly, it seemed, and do such an entertaining impersonation. Then he felt sick again because he remembered this was Sirius’s little cousin he was thinking about, and that she was at least a decade younger than him, if not more.
She went on, mimicking the old woman calling her grandson on a Muggle telephone to come and visit-“have you got any of that Loo powder left, Chester?”-so he could read her the instructions on the tiny pill bottle.
Tonks dramatically raised her hand in the air, her old woman voice quivering-“I don’t ask you for much, now, do I, Chester? Your dear old granny?”-when her spoon went flying out of her hand, clattering on the floor beneath the cabinets.
“Bugger!” Tonks muttered, and this time Kingsley did laugh-likely because it sounded quite odd from the old squib’s face. Remus laughed as well, but then found that his laugh was strangled in his throat as Tonks leaned over to pick up the spoon, her jean-clad bum raised directly in his line of vision.
Merlin.
She wiggled it, too, just then, trying to reach the spoon, surely-but in the process, also making Remus certain that he was way too old for her because he knew he was about to have a heart attack.
“Let me,” he finally offered, reaching for his wand as she wiggled further to reach the spoon. “Accio spoon.”
“Thank you, Remus,” she beamed, sitting up; and as he gave the spoon back to her, his hand brushed hers; and as their eyes met, her face dropped the morph so fast he would have sworn it hadn’t been there all the time if he hadn’t known better, and that lovely pink hair returned, this time accompanied by a complimentary glow in her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said again, grinning.
Suddenly Remus felt very hot. Grabbing his water goblet, he managed, “Not at all.”
As Tonks cleaned off her spoon, Sirius began boasting-with a bit of a slur-about their glory days at Hogwarts once again.
Remus, both amused and wary, said, “Sirius, do we really need to hear this story?”
“Yes, we do!” Tonks said, and Remus found the enthusiasm in her voice so attractive that he didn’t bother to argue.
As Tonks listened to Sirius tell about the time they put a Singing Charm on Snape-they, of course, meaning Sirius and James, Remus thought, but didn’t say anything-to make him break into Etheralla Dewlocke songs every time he spoke to Lily Evans, Tonks grinned, lifting her goblet to her lips.
Kingsley broke in to explain, at Tonks’s puzzled expression, that Etheralla Dewlocke had been a lounge singer that would have put Celestina Warbuck to shame-with a rather misty twinkle in his eye, Remus would have noticed, if he hadn’t been staring at Tonks once more.
He watched her swallow the burgundy liquid-quite gracefully, he noted absently, for someone who had dropped the entire basket of bread and toppled her own chair just before dinner.
Her throat was long and lean- not swanlike because swans certainly didn’t wear necklaces that looked more like dog collars with strange, neon spikey things sticking out from them, did they?-but still quite milky-looking and still very lovely.
Remus blinked and quickly looked around the room, as if making sure none had heard his rather inappropriate line of thinking. Satisfied that he was indeed alone with his thoughts, or as alone as one could be at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place these days, he allowed his eyes to leisurely scan her features again.
He could make out a small mole near her collar bone, which made his stomach drop a little. He decided that he liked that she didn’t morph it away.
At the nape of her neck, where the finest little pink hairs lay, he noted that there was a tiny tattoo of-a badger?
“Hufflepuff?”
Tonks dabbed a droplet of wine away with her thumb and looked at him. “Sorry?”
So much for not voicing his thoughts aloud.
“I, ah, I asked if you were in Hufflepuff?”
Sirius glared-or at least, tried to, as he swayed a little in his chair-at his friend for interrupting his story.
“Yeah, actually,” Tonks smiled, her eyes lighting up. “How did you know?”
Remus tried to think of something else to say that would cause her eyes to light up like that again but decided against all of them. Surely “there’s something in your eye” wouldn’t have the desired effect?
“Ah, you, you’re,” Remus glanced down at her. “Your purse.”
Tonks raised an eyebrow, and followed his gaze to her rather large yellow messenger bag. Sure enough, it had a small badger button keeping its overflowing contents from spilling onto the floor.
“Oh, right.” She pushed one of the scrolls sticking out of the bag further in, then smiled up at him. “I thought you might have seen my badger tattoo or something.”
Remus raised his eyebrows. “Oh, indeed. I believe I may have seen that earlier, before the meeting, maybe.”
She cast a knowing smile at him and he knew, right then, that he was done for.
(to be continued...sometime!)