Prompt #25
Title: The Honeymoon Is Over
Author: MrsTater
Format & Word Count: Ficlet, 689
Prompt: #25, In starlit nights I saw you / So cruelly you kissed me / Your lips a magic world / Your sky all hung with jewels / The killing moon / Will come too soon (The Killing Moon, Echo and the Bunnymen)
Summary: Last night was just like any other night. Tonight is full moon.
Author’s Note: Sequel to Wedding Night.
The Honeymoon Is Over
The set of plastic goblets in neon shades is a gag wedding present from Fred and George Weasley. For once in her life, Molly permitted Arthur and the twins to charm a Muggle artifact; when dropped, the cups laugh and tease, "You can't break me, Tonks!"
Drinking vile Wolfsbane potion from such an implement is ludicrous, but it's typical of Tonks to serve it to him this way. It's the art of distraction at its finest, and Remus is only sorry it doesn't work. Every swallow is a battle against his gag reflex, no matter how humorous the cup is. Besides, he can't get the full effect of the charmed goblet unless he drops it, and much as he would like to dump the potion on the floor, doing so would defeat the whole purpose.
So, as he gingerly sips the Wolfsbane, he meanders through the flat, straightening the framed wedding photographs Tonks knocked about earlier when she blundered through the living room. Like the whimsical cup, however, neither the simple activity of tidying, nor the waving images of Bride Tonks and Groom Remus stop the bilious potion from burning his throat and washing away his smile. He ends up pacing the flat, feeling very much like a caged animal.
Remus Lupin is a creature of habit. For more than thirty years he's lived from moon-to-moon, his life a constant rhythm of solitary preparation, transformation, and recovery. Marriage should have been a more difficult transition, but in the three weeks since he began his life with Tonks, he's adapted beautifully. Creating and living their routine is pure joy.
Therein lies the problem. Always the Wolfsbane is part of his regular routine. Last night he drank it as he and Tonks snuggled on the sofa, listening to the wireless; Celestina Warbeck's warbling voice inspired more grimaces than the foul-tasting potion - and Tonks shared in his aural misery. Two nights ago, Tonks donned lingerie, and at the sight of her, Remus downed the potion as though it were a shot of Firewhiskey. Tonight, however, routine is abandoned. No pleasant promises accompany this dose of Wolfbane.
He takes another sip that tastes worse than any that came before. Last night was just like any other night. Tonight is full moon.
"Remus!" He startles at Tonks' voice beckoning him from another part of the small flat. "C'mere!"
Plastic goblet in hand, he pads slumpingly to the spare bedroom. He stops dead in his tracks in the doorway at the sight of Tonks stripping the nice linens off the bed and exchanging them for old ones - in preparation for tonight's guest. Remus glances over his shoulder to the bedroom at the opposite end of the flat - their bedroom. Sharing a bed with Tonks is the one aspect of his new routine he can't imagine having lived without. Will he be able to sleep here, on this lonely bed, in this sparse room, without her? He anticipates a night of pacing.
"D'you know what next Monday is?" Tonks' cheerful voice again snaps Remus out of his morose reverie.
"Someone's birthday?"
"Typical male," she snorts. "It's our one-month anniversary."
"The root of that word means 'year', you know. You can't call it an anniversary."
Tonks' brows knit as she ponders the appropriate terminology. "Monthiversary? No, not technical sounding enough…Oh! I know!" Her face and eyes glow as she says, "Luniversary!" But the instantly deflates as she realises the implication such a term holds tonight.
"I already have one of those," says Remus stiffly, then turns and strides from the room.
"Remus," Tonks calls out miserably, but he's already resumed pacing and choking down the potion, and she doesn't follow.
After he swallows the last of the Wolfsbane, he goes to the kitchen and cleans the empty cup. Through the window above the sink, he watches the stars dimly glow above the tiny strip of pink at the horizon.
"I'm sorry." Tonks slips her arms around his waist and presses her cheek to his back.
"It's not you," Remus replies, without taking his eyes off the sliver of moon rising over a rooftop. "It's time."
Author: MrsTater
Format & Word Count: Ficlet, 689
Prompt: #25, In starlit nights I saw you / So cruelly you kissed me / Your lips a magic world / Your sky all hung with jewels / The killing moon / Will come too soon (The Killing Moon, Echo and the Bunnymen)
Summary: Last night was just like any other night. Tonight is full moon.
Author’s Note: Sequel to Wedding Night.
The Honeymoon Is Over
The set of plastic goblets in neon shades is a gag wedding present from Fred and George Weasley. For once in her life, Molly permitted Arthur and the twins to charm a Muggle artifact; when dropped, the cups laugh and tease, "You can't break me, Tonks!"
Drinking vile Wolfsbane potion from such an implement is ludicrous, but it's typical of Tonks to serve it to him this way. It's the art of distraction at its finest, and Remus is only sorry it doesn't work. Every swallow is a battle against his gag reflex, no matter how humorous the cup is. Besides, he can't get the full effect of the charmed goblet unless he drops it, and much as he would like to dump the potion on the floor, doing so would defeat the whole purpose.
So, as he gingerly sips the Wolfsbane, he meanders through the flat, straightening the framed wedding photographs Tonks knocked about earlier when she blundered through the living room. Like the whimsical cup, however, neither the simple activity of tidying, nor the waving images of Bride Tonks and Groom Remus stop the bilious potion from burning his throat and washing away his smile. He ends up pacing the flat, feeling very much like a caged animal.
Remus Lupin is a creature of habit. For more than thirty years he's lived from moon-to-moon, his life a constant rhythm of solitary preparation, transformation, and recovery. Marriage should have been a more difficult transition, but in the three weeks since he began his life with Tonks, he's adapted beautifully. Creating and living their routine is pure joy.
Therein lies the problem. Always the Wolfsbane is part of his regular routine. Last night he drank it as he and Tonks snuggled on the sofa, listening to the wireless; Celestina Warbeck's warbling voice inspired more grimaces than the foul-tasting potion - and Tonks shared in his aural misery. Two nights ago, Tonks donned lingerie, and at the sight of her, Remus downed the potion as though it were a shot of Firewhiskey. Tonight, however, routine is abandoned. No pleasant promises accompany this dose of Wolfbane.
He takes another sip that tastes worse than any that came before. Last night was just like any other night. Tonight is full moon.
"Remus!" He startles at Tonks' voice beckoning him from another part of the small flat. "C'mere!"
Plastic goblet in hand, he pads slumpingly to the spare bedroom. He stops dead in his tracks in the doorway at the sight of Tonks stripping the nice linens off the bed and exchanging them for old ones - in preparation for tonight's guest. Remus glances over his shoulder to the bedroom at the opposite end of the flat - their bedroom. Sharing a bed with Tonks is the one aspect of his new routine he can't imagine having lived without. Will he be able to sleep here, on this lonely bed, in this sparse room, without her? He anticipates a night of pacing.
"D'you know what next Monday is?" Tonks' cheerful voice again snaps Remus out of his morose reverie.
"Someone's birthday?"
"Typical male," she snorts. "It's our one-month anniversary."
"The root of that word means 'year', you know. You can't call it an anniversary."
Tonks' brows knit as she ponders the appropriate terminology. "Monthiversary? No, not technical sounding enough…Oh! I know!" Her face and eyes glow as she says, "Luniversary!" But the instantly deflates as she realises the implication such a term holds tonight.
"I already have one of those," says Remus stiffly, then turns and strides from the room.
"Remus," Tonks calls out miserably, but he's already resumed pacing and choking down the potion, and she doesn't follow.
After he swallows the last of the Wolfsbane, he goes to the kitchen and cleans the empty cup. Through the window above the sink, he watches the stars dimly glow above the tiny strip of pink at the horizon.
"I'm sorry." Tonks slips her arms around his waist and presses her cheek to his back.
"It's not you," Remus replies, without taking his eyes off the sliver of moon rising over a rooftop. "It's time."