Difference I - Young and Old
Title: Difference I - Young and Old
Author: sea_thoughts aka Starsea
Rating: PG-13 for sexual inferences
Word Count: 1,262
Prompt: Difference
Summary: The age gap isn’t as wide as Remus thinks.
Author's Notes: Nobody has beta'd this, so please excuse any spelling mistakes, rough edges and OOC moments. I finally managed it! I finally managed some romance between these two! And don't worry, you will find out why she chose those colours in the next part. ;)
She is so young. That’s what he thinks when they meet for the first time. From the fresh colour of her skin to the sparkle in her eyes and the quickness of her movements, from her frank, high laugh to the way she tears pieces of fresh bread with her strong white teeth, everything about Nymphadora Tonks speaks of youth, vitality, energy. It is this energy which enchants him more than her dark eyes and heart-shaped face, because this energy is her and informs everything she does. He remembers what that was like and when he sees her, talks with her, he feels the same hope and determination.
“You don’t have to act like such an old man,” Sirius says after one meeting.
“Hmm?” Remus pretends to read The Daily Prophet, as if he has no idea what his friend is talking about.
Sirius growls with frustration, causing a snoozing Crookshanks to open one eye. “Don’t you ‘hmm’ me, Professor Lupin. I saw you staring at her. And don’t ask me ‘who’. You know who. We both know.”
Remus turns a page. “No crime in looking,” he says, conceding the battle but not the war.
“No, of course not, that’s all you ever do,” Sirius mocks. Even now, Remus rebels at the scorn in his voice, as if they were still sixteen.
“How would you know?”
His voice is sharper than he intended and he looks up, mouth open to apologise, but Sirius shakes his head. “I know you, Moony,” he says. “You’ve always held back. You may have ‘grown up’, but you haven’t changed that much. When it comes to women, you’re still thinking the same old thoughts: ‘I’m not worthy’, ‘they deserve better’, ‘who would ever want someone like me?’”
“Well, who would?” He’s rattled again. Sirius hasn’t lost that talent of getting beneath your skin.
“She would,” Sirius retorts, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.
Remus snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Fine, if you don’t believe me, talk to her. And look at her, I mean, really look at her without telling yourself that you’re too old, too poor, too dangerous-” He grinned at the shock on Remus’s face. “Got it in one, didn’t I? No reason Snape has to be the only Occlumens here.”
Remus snorted at that. “You? Read other people’s minds when your own is so much more interesting?”
“Had you for a moment, though, didn’t I?”
Remus ignores him, goes back to the paper. Sirius laughs and Crookshanks closes his eye, reassured that there will be no explosion tonight. Sirius’s words lodge in Remus’s mind like shrapnel, just as Sirius intended. He resists them for a while, but then the holidays arrive, with good cheer and laughter and alcohol to wear him down and he finds himself in a room with her, all alone on New Year’s Eve, while the revelry carries on in the kitchen. She has streaked her hair grey and black and the effect is at once fascinating and creepy. He has never seen much resemblance to Sirius before now but the dark colour makes the shared blood obvious; the grey reminds him of the portrait in the wall, though Nymphadora is nothing like her.
“Nymphadora,” he says, seeing her wince at the name, “why grey and black?”
“Don’t call me that name,” she replies automatically.
“Give me one good reason - saying it’s ridiculous is not a good reason,” he adds. She pouts.
“For God’s sake, Remus, it’s New Year’s Eve, I’ve had two shots of Firewhisky, you want me to come up with ‘a good reason’? That requires thinking.”
“You’re an Auror,” he replies, “I’m sure it would take a lot more than two shots of Firewhisky to blur your thoughts.”
Her lips curl in a smile and he has a terrifying urge to kiss them. “Professor Lupin, you’re going to make me blush,” she says softly.
His hands twitch and he stuffs them in his pockets. “Answer the question,” he insists, sounding stern like the teacher she imagines him to be. And that’s fine with him. There’s no way he’d ever kiss a pupil; likewise, he can’t see her snogging a teacher. This is safe territory.
“Because… for some reason, my mother chose to follow the traditions of her family when she named me, and I’ve never understood it. Nymphadora is long and complicated, Tonks is short and easy to say and… I like Tonks better,” she ends with a grin.
Remus nods slowly. “All excellent reasons…”
“Thank you. My name, my choice. It’s a free country, no matter what Fudge thinks.”
“And it’s my choice to call you by your first name.”
“Oh-!” She stomps away for a moment, then turns. “Fine, Professor. Give me one good reason why I should let you call me by that name.”
“Because no one else does,” he says, before he can stop himself.
The atmosphere changes instantly. She is staring at him with wide dark eyes. One hand lifts and long pale fingers run through grey-black strands of hair in a constant, distracted motion.
“And what makes you think you can get away with that?” she asks, staring at him.
Remus licks his lips. He feels hot but his head is surprisingly clear. He knows this state of mind from years ago: the alcohol is strong, allowing him to do and say anything. It is the pinnacle, another moment and his tongue will start flopping around in his mouth and his arms and legs will try and do completely different things. He wishes that Sirius was here. No, he doesn’t, but he wishes he could ask Sirius’s advice. Sirius was always good with the girls. And then he remembers what Sirius said about Nymphadora.
“Because you like me,” he says.
She colours for a moment but recovers swiftly. “So? That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with calling me that stupid name!”
“It doesn’t?” Now he’s walking towards her. Part of Remus is saying that he’s courting disaster but the whisky has dimmed the voice and Remus is quite happy to ignore it. “But you already let me get away with it, Nymphadora. You don’t threaten me with your wand, like you did Sirius, or mock my own name, like you do with Moody, and given my first name, you’ve got lots of jokes to hand. So I must conclude that you actually like me calling you by that first name.”
The blood comes back into her cheeks and stays. He smiles.
“Smart arse,” she mutters.
“Been looking, have you?” Suddenly he’s a teenager again, as if the last fifteen years were some grey nightmare. There is no age gap now. They’re on the same level. He can almost believe that James and Lily will wander into the room in a moment, but he doesn’t want anybody interrupting them.
She grins suddenly. “Oh yeah,” she says, and glances around his side deliberately. “Very nice it is, too.”
Remus laughs and then his hands are out of his pockets, on her shoulders and her skin is warm and just as smooth as he imagined. He’s pulling her towards him and she’s not resisting, she’s turning up her face, her arms are linking around his neck, this may be the most wonderful moment of his life, but then he realises that the most wonderful moment of his life is when Nymphadora Tonks kisses him in a dark, dusty room on New Year’s Eve and makes time disappear. For just one moment, he is not old and she is not young. They are both the same.
Author: sea_thoughts aka Starsea
Rating: PG-13 for sexual inferences
Word Count: 1,262
Prompt: Difference
Summary: The age gap isn’t as wide as Remus thinks.
Author's Notes: Nobody has beta'd this, so please excuse any spelling mistakes, rough edges and OOC moments. I finally managed it! I finally managed some romance between these two! And don't worry, you will find out why she chose those colours in the next part. ;)
She is so young. That’s what he thinks when they meet for the first time. From the fresh colour of her skin to the sparkle in her eyes and the quickness of her movements, from her frank, high laugh to the way she tears pieces of fresh bread with her strong white teeth, everything about Nymphadora Tonks speaks of youth, vitality, energy. It is this energy which enchants him more than her dark eyes and heart-shaped face, because this energy is her and informs everything she does. He remembers what that was like and when he sees her, talks with her, he feels the same hope and determination.
“You don’t have to act like such an old man,” Sirius says after one meeting.
“Hmm?” Remus pretends to read The Daily Prophet, as if he has no idea what his friend is talking about.
Sirius growls with frustration, causing a snoozing Crookshanks to open one eye. “Don’t you ‘hmm’ me, Professor Lupin. I saw you staring at her. And don’t ask me ‘who’. You know who. We both know.”
Remus turns a page. “No crime in looking,” he says, conceding the battle but not the war.
“No, of course not, that’s all you ever do,” Sirius mocks. Even now, Remus rebels at the scorn in his voice, as if they were still sixteen.
“How would you know?”
His voice is sharper than he intended and he looks up, mouth open to apologise, but Sirius shakes his head. “I know you, Moony,” he says. “You’ve always held back. You may have ‘grown up’, but you haven’t changed that much. When it comes to women, you’re still thinking the same old thoughts: ‘I’m not worthy’, ‘they deserve better’, ‘who would ever want someone like me?’”
“Well, who would?” He’s rattled again. Sirius hasn’t lost that talent of getting beneath your skin.
“She would,” Sirius retorts, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.
Remus snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Fine, if you don’t believe me, talk to her. And look at her, I mean, really look at her without telling yourself that you’re too old, too poor, too dangerous-” He grinned at the shock on Remus’s face. “Got it in one, didn’t I? No reason Snape has to be the only Occlumens here.”
Remus snorted at that. “You? Read other people’s minds when your own is so much more interesting?”
“Had you for a moment, though, didn’t I?”
Remus ignores him, goes back to the paper. Sirius laughs and Crookshanks closes his eye, reassured that there will be no explosion tonight. Sirius’s words lodge in Remus’s mind like shrapnel, just as Sirius intended. He resists them for a while, but then the holidays arrive, with good cheer and laughter and alcohol to wear him down and he finds himself in a room with her, all alone on New Year’s Eve, while the revelry carries on in the kitchen. She has streaked her hair grey and black and the effect is at once fascinating and creepy. He has never seen much resemblance to Sirius before now but the dark colour makes the shared blood obvious; the grey reminds him of the portrait in the wall, though Nymphadora is nothing like her.
“Nymphadora,” he says, seeing her wince at the name, “why grey and black?”
“Don’t call me that name,” she replies automatically.
“Give me one good reason - saying it’s ridiculous is not a good reason,” he adds. She pouts.
“For God’s sake, Remus, it’s New Year’s Eve, I’ve had two shots of Firewhisky, you want me to come up with ‘a good reason’? That requires thinking.”
“You’re an Auror,” he replies, “I’m sure it would take a lot more than two shots of Firewhisky to blur your thoughts.”
Her lips curl in a smile and he has a terrifying urge to kiss them. “Professor Lupin, you’re going to make me blush,” she says softly.
His hands twitch and he stuffs them in his pockets. “Answer the question,” he insists, sounding stern like the teacher she imagines him to be. And that’s fine with him. There’s no way he’d ever kiss a pupil; likewise, he can’t see her snogging a teacher. This is safe territory.
“Because… for some reason, my mother chose to follow the traditions of her family when she named me, and I’ve never understood it. Nymphadora is long and complicated, Tonks is short and easy to say and… I like Tonks better,” she ends with a grin.
Remus nods slowly. “All excellent reasons…”
“Thank you. My name, my choice. It’s a free country, no matter what Fudge thinks.”
“And it’s my choice to call you by your first name.”
“Oh-!” She stomps away for a moment, then turns. “Fine, Professor. Give me one good reason why I should let you call me by that name.”
“Because no one else does,” he says, before he can stop himself.
The atmosphere changes instantly. She is staring at him with wide dark eyes. One hand lifts and long pale fingers run through grey-black strands of hair in a constant, distracted motion.
“And what makes you think you can get away with that?” she asks, staring at him.
Remus licks his lips. He feels hot but his head is surprisingly clear. He knows this state of mind from years ago: the alcohol is strong, allowing him to do and say anything. It is the pinnacle, another moment and his tongue will start flopping around in his mouth and his arms and legs will try and do completely different things. He wishes that Sirius was here. No, he doesn’t, but he wishes he could ask Sirius’s advice. Sirius was always good with the girls. And then he remembers what Sirius said about Nymphadora.
“Because you like me,” he says.
She colours for a moment but recovers swiftly. “So? That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with calling me that stupid name!”
“It doesn’t?” Now he’s walking towards her. Part of Remus is saying that he’s courting disaster but the whisky has dimmed the voice and Remus is quite happy to ignore it. “But you already let me get away with it, Nymphadora. You don’t threaten me with your wand, like you did Sirius, or mock my own name, like you do with Moody, and given my first name, you’ve got lots of jokes to hand. So I must conclude that you actually like me calling you by that first name.”
The blood comes back into her cheeks and stays. He smiles.
“Smart arse,” she mutters.
“Been looking, have you?” Suddenly he’s a teenager again, as if the last fifteen years were some grey nightmare. There is no age gap now. They’re on the same level. He can almost believe that James and Lily will wander into the room in a moment, but he doesn’t want anybody interrupting them.
She grins suddenly. “Oh yeah,” she says, and glances around his side deliberately. “Very nice it is, too.”
Remus laughs and then his hands are out of his pockets, on her shoulders and her skin is warm and just as smooth as he imagined. He’s pulling her towards him and she’s not resisting, she’s turning up her face, her arms are linking around his neck, this may be the most wonderful moment of his life, but then he realises that the most wonderful moment of his life is when Nymphadora Tonks kisses him in a dark, dusty room on New Year’s Eve and makes time disappear. For just one moment, he is not old and she is not young. They are both the same.