Tenth of March
Title: Tenth of March
Author: Devonwood
Rating and Warnings: PG-13/T, alcohol use
Genre: Romance/Humour
Prompt: forget
Word Count: 1,702
Summary: Tonks goes into a bar to forget all of her problems, yet she may end up wanting to remember the night after all.
Author’s Note: This fic takes place during March of OoTP. Much love to
wildmagelet, the absolutely wonderful beta who made it clear why I don’t write fanfiction at two o’clock in the morning, and who had to put up with my American spelling of “colour”. :)
EDIT: Livejournal has decided to hate me, I think...trying to sort out the posting problem.
The salt around the top of her glass shone copper in the dim lighting and the liquid inside reflected the pale moonlight gazing through the window, altogether creating an eerie glow that seemed to match the cobwebs in the corner. Tonks swirled the cool liquid in the glass with magic, the tip of her pointer finger lazily circling the glass as she pored over the file spread on her table. The Hog’s Head was far from a working environment that she would find ideal, but Tonks needed a stiff drink, and the Ministry had a rather staunch policy concerning alcohol consumption on the job.
She picked up her glass, toasting an invisible partner, and downed the silver contents in one gulp. A drop spilt on a piece of parchment she would need to turn in later, but she decided to leave it in lieu of performing a cleaning charm, which she knew from experience could backfire in a million ways.
Tonks turned the page of the manila file and saw her aunt Bellatrix’s beautiful, wretched, evil face screaming back at her. She hesitated for a moment, scanning the document briefly before flipping to the next page, only somewhat surprised that Narcissa’s portrait was making a rather rude hand gesture at her. The next photo was her mother’s, grinning as though she had just won an award for keeping an immaculately spotless house, and Tonks quickly felt the need to summon another drink from the barman. He brought her a pint of Firewhiskey, and the mug reeked of hay and goats, but she took a large swallow and proceeded to the next page, though she knew what was coming next.
Tonks’s own smiling face appeared on the parchment, waving with a dorky grin, her hair changing rapidly from colour to colour every few seconds.
Another large gulp of Firewhiskey.
While the other pages had been filled out entirely, this one was blank, save for a pink note with Kingsley’s familiar writing scrawled all over it.
Rufus Scrimgeour wants me to compile a history of the Black Family. Thought you’d want to write your own entry.
That was all it said, though Tonks flipped the paper over, trying to find another message. Flashes of the various punishments she would dole out to Kingsley the next time he showed up at Order Headquarters ran through her mind, although they were interrupted by the person she saw walk through the seedy pub’s door.
“Remus! Remus Lupin!”
The werewolf turned around in confusion before his eyes settled on Tonks and she made a gesture for him to sit down. He hesitated at first, but must have realized it would be in poor taste to refuse, and pulled out the chair across from her.
“Evening, Nymphadora,” he said, pulling off his gray woolen overcoat and shaking the light flakes of snow from his rumpled hair. Tonks had the strange urge to brush it away for him, but she bit her tongue and took another sip of her drink.
“Wotcher, Remus. And it’s Tonks.”
He nodded his apology; a strange little game they played. He would call her by her given name, she would immediately correct him, and he would apologize, although they both knew he would do it again at the next opportunity. She didn’t really mind though, she had to admit to herself.
Remus signaled the barman, ordering a pint of Firewhiskey to match her own, and sipped it daintily once it arrived at the table. Tonks raised an eyebrow at his odd habits, and he raised one back.
“I didn’t think it’d be polite to demonstrate the things Sirius taught me back in our Hogwarts days.”
“Well, as long as they only pertain to drinking,” Tonks began, her eyes dancing over the rim of her mug, ‘then I don’t mind in the slightest.”
He smiled briefly and also downed the entire drink in one go, looked around for a napkin and, not finding one, used the sleeve of his overcoat to wipe the droplets of alcohol from his whiskers.
“What brings you here, Nymphado- Tonks?” he amended hastily at her impatient cough.
“Ministry stuff. Just some backlogged paperwork that was due on the first of March, but I’ve put off until now,” she elaborated when he raised his eyebrows for her to continue.
“And you decided to do it at the Hog’s Head because...”
“Well, it wouldn’t do for the other Aurors to see me turning in late paperwork. They might think badly of me.” Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, and Remus seemed to get the hint.
“Besides,” she added, “now that I know what Kingsley sent me, I definitely don’t want to do it in the office.”
Without even asking, though he knew his curiosity wouldn’t be minded, Remus peered over the top of the file, his eyes widening when he saw what it was.
“You know,” he said after a moment’s pause, “Kingsley told me he was going to give that to you, but I didn’t think he was serious. I know how it feels to be an outcast because of something that’s not your fault,” he mentioned quietly, searching in his mug for a last drop of Firewhiskey.
Tonks immediately nodded her agreement, but quickly cleared her throat and pulled a quill from her back pocket.
“Right,” she said in a wildly unconvincing cheerful tone “Let’s see...what should I write?”
She tapped the quill against her lips thoughtfully and scrunched her eyebrows in concentration, looking as though she was about to morph.
“Distinguishing features,” Tonks read aloud “Metamorphmagus, usually has pink hair.” Her eyes darted to a tendril of mousey brown hair that had fallen in her face. She’d been so distracted by work today that she hadn’t even noticed what colour her hair had become. She kept it the same length, but screwed up her eyes to make it pink again.
“Very clumsy,” she said while scratching the quill against the paper. “Usually messes things up because of said clumsiness.” She sighed, scrawling more against the paper.
Remus frowned and looked at his drink for a moment before saying, “And ‘beautiful’. Don’t forget to add ‘beautiful’.”
Tonks sucked in a large amount of air and pressed the quill so hard into the parchment that it made a small hole. Attempting to feign nonchalance, she laughed a little too loudly.
“I don’t believe I’ve had enough Firewhiskey for that kind of talk, Remus,” she added with a bit of cheek, trying to get her heart rate back to normal.
He stared at her for a moment, before yelling, “We need more drinks, please!” to the barman, who gave a grunt and used the rag with which he was cleaning the countertop to wipe down a pair of mugs. Tonks’s laugh was genuine this time, and she downed the rest of her drink to make room for the next one.
“You know,” she said, once her drink had been placed in front of her and she had sniffed it warily, “My original intention was to come here and get piss-drunk, and be so sloshed that I couldn’t even remember all of the stress I’m dealing with. Pressure from work, late nights on Order duty, more and more paperwork, my mother yelling at me that I need to get myself married and produce a passel of babies.” She smiled and huffed a laugh. “My father telling me to quit my job because it’s too dangerous... I just can’t take it some days. Today seemed like the perfect shite-filled day to come and drink away all of my problems.”
Tonks took a sip and smacked her lips. “You never told me why you showed up here, Remus,” she added when he didn’t meet her eyes for a moment.
“It’s my birthday.”
He said it with such a lack of emotion that Tonks choked on her Firewhiskey.
“Merlin, Remus, I’m so sorry! I’m always putting my foot in my mouth when I’m not using it to trip over something. I should’ve a-”
“Nymphadora, it’s all right!” he said before she started crying heavily. “In fact, I’ve been having a rather enjoyable time so far.”
His eyes dancing were enough to make her wipe the few tears from her face. “Sorry,” she mumbled nervously, finishing off her drink.
There was a tension-filled pause, and she broke it by saying, “Well, I’d better head back home. This paperwork isn’t going to complete itself, you know.”
“Oh.” Remus said, and Tonks swore she heard a twinge of disappointment in his voice.
Mustering up all of her Hufflepuff courage, she added, “Would you mind walking me home? I don’t want to interrupt your evening or anything, but they say at work that it’s safer to walk in pairs, even though they won’t admit there’s any danger, which I think is total rubbish, and- sorry, I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
Remus grinned and finished his drink. “I’d love to take you home,” he said, and Tonks inwardly sighed with relief. She fished in her pockets for money and laid it out on the table. Remus was doing the same, but Tonks made a noise to stop him.
“It’s your birthday, Remus! Let me pay for your drinks!”
He looked like he was going to object, but Tonks tapped her foot against the floorboards, and he put his change purse away. “Thank you,” he said. “This is better than what Sirius got me.”
“What’d Sirius get you?”
“You don’t want to know.” He grimaced, and Tonks picked up her things from the table, mumbling a charm to shrink them before she slid them into the pocket of her robes.
Remus placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her past the large, hairy man who was blocking half of the doorway to exit the bar. Tonks inhaled sharply as she stepped out the door, and fiddled in her pockets as she pretended to look for something.
They had navigated safely out of the bar, but his hand still lingered against her back. She swore it was her imagination, later, that the snow and wind outside distorted her hearing, but she believed she heard Remus mumble, “Happy Birthday to me.”