DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
~ Purposely Pestering a Portrait ~
The cleaning of Number 12 Grimmauld Place was not going as well as anyone would have hoped. The hostile house elf and the screaming portrait of Sirius's mother made the task more unpleasant for everyone involved in the proceedings, no matter which part of the house they happened to be in at any given time.
"What are you two giggling about?" Ron asked sourly, as Tonks and Hermione passed him in the upstairs hallway.
"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," Tonks replied offhandedly. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that she couldn't keep a straight face while saying it.
"Seriously, what?"
"We found something interesting in the attic," Hermione explained, elbowing Tonks in the ribs. "But it's not something you'd be interested in."
"Why not?" Ron asked, scowling. "I like interesting things!"
Hermione and Tonks glanced at each other and, at the idea of showing Ron what they had found, both burst out laughing.
"Trust me, you don't want to see it!" Hermione somehow managed to gasp out between peals of laughter.
"Alright, fine," Ron snapped, and stormed off to find Harry.
Once they had themselves under control again, Tonks and Hermione continued to make their way through the house until they were standing in front of the portrait of Sirius's mother - who was already awake and screaming.
"Filth and mudbloods in my house-!"
"Hey, Auntie Walburga," Tonks interrupted the portrait's tirade.
"Half-blood, addressing me so disrespectfully-"
"We found something in the attic that you might like." Tonks pulled an ancient issue of Playwitch magazine out from under her robes and waved it around in front of the portrait.
"That filth never belonged to me and I certainly am not interested in seeing it!" the portrait shrieked.
"Ha, so you really didn't know," Hermione said, fighting not to break into giggles now that they had reached the critical moment.
Before the portrait had a chance to start shrieking about the mudblood speaking to her, Tonks opened the magazine to the centerfold and held it up in front of her.
The portrait of Walburga Black was, for the first time since they had met her, both awake and silent. She stared in shock as her husband's picture grinned and winked at her from the pages of the magazine - his very naked picture, one might add...
~end~