Jul. 22nd, 2007 11:17 pm
Ficlet: This Flight Tonight
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fox_confessorThis Flight Tonight
Remus/Tonks (Yeah, I'm pretty surprised, too)
870 words
("This Flight Tonight" --Joni Mitchell)
The moment Remus slammed the door to Grimmauld Place, he knew he had made a mistake. He should have never have come. Never talked to Harry. It was too late for regrets, though. It was too late for everything. In the second before he disapparated from the front step, he'd been convinced that Harry was wrong but by the time he landed, he knew how horribly, horribly right Harry had been.
A coward. He'd been a coward all his life, depending on his friends, on Dumbledore. He hid in shadows, crawled with vermin. Doubt and self-recrimination dogged him, fed him. He hated himself, what he was, what people saw and thought. Hated it and was desperate to prove to Harry, to everyone--to himself--that it wasn't true. That there was more to him, more to his life.
Gripping his wand, he stepped into the circle of the streetlight and stared up at the ordinariness that was the Minstry of Magic to the outside world. It was reckless, he knew. Some voice of reason, some part of him that knew right and responsibility, rebelled and his step faltered. Coward, it hissed, and Remus tried to tune out the sound, tried to form a plan--any kind of plan. An attack--a lone attack--was suicidal . Coward.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the werewolf."
At the sound of the voice behind him, Remus jumps, spins. He hadn't expected anyone else to be there and cursed his own stupidity--his selfishness. He could be dead already had Dolohov not wanted to gloat. Without thinking, Remus lifts his wand and sparks fly from the tip as he wordlessly begins a duel. Dolohov lifts his wand to return the curse, his lips twisting into a sneer when a loud crack rents the air around them.
"Expelliarmus!"
Dolohov's wand flew from his hand and clattered on the ground and they both turned towards it, surprised. Remus was the first to recover, sensing immediately that the person who had come to his aid was friend, not foe. Dolohov came to the same conclusion a moment later, dove for his wand, and disappeared with a crack, Remus's next curse falling harmlessly on the pavement where he had just been.
Remus turned angrily towards the spot where the counter curse had come. His hand clenched in a fist around his wand but he kept it at his side. "What are you doing here?" he yelled, his voice reverberating in the silence.
"What do you think I'm doing here?" Tonks answers, her voice quieter but sounding strained, as if she were keeping back a tide of words.
"Putting yourself in danger. Needlessly," Remus says. He tucks his wand away into the folds of his tattered robe and stands unsure of what to say or do next. Her hair is a dark brown, her true color, and nothing else could have shamed Remus more effectively and his words to Harry ring hollowly in his ears.
"I'm an auror, Remus. I know how to take care of myself. Being pregnant doesn' t automatically make me stupid."
"I didn't say it did."
Tonks shook her head, unwilling to accept the tone of his voice, like he was juggling eggs. She was unwilling to consider herself weak, or to let him make her feel that way. "Don't lie to me," she said, trying--and failing--to make her voice sound even. "What were you doing out here tonight?"
"Order business."
"Bullshit."
"Dora."
Tonks hates the sound of resignation in Remus' voice. Hates how his shoulders slump, the tattered cuff of his trousers and the smear of dirt on his lapel. For a brief moment she hated everything about him but it passed as quickly as it had come and she felt herself fill with love for him again--a desperate, painful beating in her chest for everything that he was and wasn't. "Don't do this, Remus. Don't you do this to me. To us."
"I tried to tell you this before. I tried to--"
"Stop it," she screams, startling herself. She takes a step back then forward, her hand stretching towards him then retreating. "Please. Just stop this. Stop. I know who you are. I know what you are. I don't care."
"You should."
Remus/Tonks (Yeah, I'm pretty surprised, too)
870 words
("This Flight Tonight" --Joni Mitchell)
The moment Remus slammed the door to Grimmauld Place, he knew he had made a mistake. He should have never have come. Never talked to Harry. It was too late for regrets, though. It was too late for everything. In the second before he disapparated from the front step, he'd been convinced that Harry was wrong but by the time he landed, he knew how horribly, horribly right Harry had been.
A coward. He'd been a coward all his life, depending on his friends, on Dumbledore. He hid in shadows, crawled with vermin. Doubt and self-recrimination dogged him, fed him. He hated himself, what he was, what people saw and thought. Hated it and was desperate to prove to Harry, to everyone--to himself--that it wasn't true. That there was more to him, more to his life.
Gripping his wand, he stepped into the circle of the streetlight and stared up at the ordinariness that was the Minstry of Magic to the outside world. It was reckless, he knew. Some voice of reason, some part of him that knew right and responsibility, rebelled and his step faltered. Coward, it hissed, and Remus tried to tune out the sound, tried to form a plan--any kind of plan. An attack--a lone attack--was suicidal . Coward.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the werewolf."
At the sound of the voice behind him, Remus jumps, spins. He hadn't expected anyone else to be there and cursed his own stupidity--his selfishness. He could be dead already had Dolohov not wanted to gloat. Without thinking, Remus lifts his wand and sparks fly from the tip as he wordlessly begins a duel. Dolohov lifts his wand to return the curse, his lips twisting into a sneer when a loud crack rents the air around them.
"Expelliarmus!"
Dolohov's wand flew from his hand and clattered on the ground and they both turned towards it, surprised. Remus was the first to recover, sensing immediately that the person who had come to his aid was friend, not foe. Dolohov came to the same conclusion a moment later, dove for his wand, and disappeared with a crack, Remus's next curse falling harmlessly on the pavement where he had just been.
Remus turned angrily towards the spot where the counter curse had come. His hand clenched in a fist around his wand but he kept it at his side. "What are you doing here?" he yelled, his voice reverberating in the silence.
"What do you think I'm doing here?" Tonks answers, her voice quieter but sounding strained, as if she were keeping back a tide of words.
"Putting yourself in danger. Needlessly," Remus says. He tucks his wand away into the folds of his tattered robe and stands unsure of what to say or do next. Her hair is a dark brown, her true color, and nothing else could have shamed Remus more effectively and his words to Harry ring hollowly in his ears.
"I'm an auror, Remus. I know how to take care of myself. Being pregnant doesn' t automatically make me stupid."
"I didn't say it did."
Tonks shook her head, unwilling to accept the tone of his voice, like he was juggling eggs. She was unwilling to consider herself weak, or to let him make her feel that way. "Don't lie to me," she said, trying--and failing--to make her voice sound even. "What were you doing out here tonight?"
"Order business."
"Bullshit."
"Dora."
Tonks hates the sound of resignation in Remus' voice. Hates how his shoulders slump, the tattered cuff of his trousers and the smear of dirt on his lapel. For a brief moment she hated everything about him but it passed as quickly as it had come and she felt herself fill with love for him again--a desperate, painful beating in her chest for everything that he was and wasn't. "Don't do this, Remus. Don't you do this to me. To us."
"I tried to tell you this before. I tried to--"
"Stop it," she screams, startling herself. She takes a step back then forward, her hand stretching towards him then retreating. "Please. Just stop this. Stop. I know who you are. I know what you are. I don't care."
"You should."
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