This fic was originally written for the MetamorFicMoon Fic Advent at Live Journal. My prompts were a Christmas party and a Warming Charm. Enjoy! Oh, and many, many thanks to MrsTater for her truly awesome beta skills.
Good Things Come...
Tonks crouched low behind a mossy dry stone wall. Her eyes were trained on the run down cottage that stood one hundred yards in front of her, but her mind was focused elsewhere.
For starters, she wasn't dressed for this mission. Beneath her robes and travelling cloak, she wore a low cut top of flimsy turquoise material that clung to her body like a second skin and didn't quite reach the band of her jeans, leaving her with a decidedly chilled tummy. She'd chosen her outfit that morning with the belief that right this minute, she would be attending the Order Christmas party, happy in a state of moderate inebriation, and warmed by the kitchen fire.
For the past two weeks, she'd done nothing but look forward to this night: meticulously planning her outfit, her jewellery; spending hours in front of her bathroom mirror, experimenting with her hair, trying to decide which colour best complimented the pastel tone of her top -- finally settling on a deep pink, much darker and richer than her customary shade.
And all for nothing, since here she was: six hours into a mission, swathed in darkness, and pretending to watch a half-rotten door for Sirius sodding Black, who was, undoubtedly, engaging in highly inappropriate drunken behaviour in his mother's kitchen basement, or passed out in the party food in an alcohol-induced stupor.
For the millionth time that night, she cursed under her breath and clenched her fists in frustration, lifting them as though to hit something, then dropping them in defeat.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
She glanced up at the sky. Incomplete cloud cover rendered a patchwork of rich mid-night blue sky, from which stars twinkled merrily, almost mocking her with their happy view of the night. The moon, which she knew to be a waning Gibbous, remained shy behind the clouds, for which she was grateful. Morose as she was this evening, seeing the moon would probably make her dwell on the nights that beautiful, yet cruel, satellite kept her way from the man she thought she might have fallen in love with.
Remus. He was the real reason she felt so frustrated and angry at this situation. For six months, they'd danced a waltz of their own design, sometimes stepping closer to becoming more than friends, and at others, retreating from potential romance. She was quite certain that after all this time -- and six months was a long to wait for a person when you harboured such a hunger to kiss them, a longing to fall into his arms and shut out the rest of the world -- they might just be on the brink of bringing their steps into a more formal arrangement. One where they both had their roles defined. She could definitely label the role she wanted him to play: boyfriend. And perhaps eventually, quite a lot more.
She'd had such hope for tonight; that finally, finally she would discover how it felt to have his arms wrapped tightly around her; to experience his hands firmly on her body, pulling her closer against him; to have all the time in the world to breathe his scent and absorb his warmth; to kiss him, feel the softness of his lips against hers, to taste him. At the thought of it, her eyes closed and a shudder quivered the length of her body, leaving a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. It was a sensation she'd come to know all too well in the last few months: an all-consuming yearning for something that promised to be so incredibly wonderful that it almost felt impossibly intangible.
All night, she'd harboured a hope that perhaps the assignment would be cancelled, or maybe relief would show up early. She'd even been tempted to abandon her post and return to Grimmauld. But the bells in the church across the valley had chimed their midnight call long ago. The party would surely be coming to an end; it was too late.
The only positive thing about the watch duty was that she'd been able to ditch the idiot of a partner she'd been assigned. Greener than she was, an Auror not long out of training, he'd taken one appraising look at her, his eyes lingering on her spiky pink hair -- no doubt assessing her small stature and slight figure as a sign of weakness -- and asserted his position as the leader of tonight's surveillance. Or tried to assert. Tonks, being in possession of a commanding tone that did not invite argument, had swiftly set him in his place and taken control. Once they'd arrived at the scene, she'd ordered him to take a position far enough away from her that she could brood in peace.
And brood she had done. To quite a large extent. It all seemed so unfair when she had booked this night off over two weeks ago. If the bloody Ministry would acknowledge Voldemort's return, and she could actually be sent on a worthwhile assignment, the bitterness of missing a party would not be so great. At least then she'd know there might be a positive result from her work. But this was…
A waste of time.
War or not, Dark Lords returning to power aside, being an Auror was a demanding job; minimal social lives came as part of the package. Which was why nights like tonight were something to be treasured, grasped with both hands, savoured and enjoyed. Not spent keeping watch for a figure who would never arrive, and even if he did, would be far more likely to offer you a drink than an introduction to the fiercer capabilities of his wand.
Every now and again, she shifted, flexing her toes in her boots, -- at least she had sturdy footwear, even if it wasn't warm -- to encourage warmth to return to them, but it was a futile exercise. It was one of those truly disgusting winter nights -- cold enough to cause extreme discomfort, but not cold enough to dry out the damp that permeated every exposed surface.
Her thoughts turned to Remus at every moment she wasn't cursing the weather or the bloody Ministry. Was he missing her at the party? Was her absence a disappointment to him, too? Was it possible that he'd thought that tonight might have been an opportunity to sort things out between them once and for all, that perhaps maybe, just maybe, he'd had the same hopes for the night as she'd had?
When the clock struck one, Tonks breathed a sigh of relief. Only one more hour.
For the first fifteen minutes, she occupied herself by laying out her plans for when relief came. She'd go back to Grimmauld. In anticipation of staying after the party, she'd dropped by early that morning with toiletries and clothes for the following day. She'd make a cup of hot chocolate, and take herself off to bed where, no doubt, she'd do little other than contemplate the man who slept two doors down from her. At least tonight, exhaustion would be on her side. She had, after all, been working for over seventeen hours, and awake for nineteen.
The last three quarters of the hour dragged. In an effort to appease her impatience, Tonks made a point of surveying her surroundings -- ironically, for the first time that night. The house was not entirely without merit, she decided. While it emitted a distinct air of cold neglect, the ivy clung to its walls and framed its windows in a manner that could be considered charming. That was, if the windows had not been cracked and the paint peeling from their frames, and if the junk that lay abandoned at its footings -- casting looming shadows across the whitewashed walls -- were removed.
Her gaze turned once again to the stars, when suddenly the clouds parted and the moon made its first appearance of the night. Its rounded image burned brightly in her eyes. She'd always loved the moon, been fascinated by the impressions of its craters. They almost seemed to be drawn on its surface, like works of art: the Earth's eternal gallery.
And though it looked so small, what power it held…The power to push and pull the tides of the oceans, controlling the behaviour of vast expanses of the earth...And, she thought, darkly, the power to affect the life of a man. To force his body to snap and contort until it became something he wasn't, to warp his mind into the very antithesis of his being.
She didn't want that for Remus. She loathed what it did to him; that it hurt him, marked him, made him work so hard for a normal life. If she allowed it, it could bring tears to her eyes that he faced that monthly torture. And thank goodness for the Wolfsbane Potion, because although he condition would never colour her opinion of him, or influence her desire to be with him, she just couldn't bear to think that one day of every twenty-eight, his beautiful mind was replaced by that of a cold-blooded killer.
Whenever she thought about him, her mind filled with images of sparkling blue eyes shining with kindness, wisdom, and humour. Memories of witty, intelligent conversation - filled with laughter -- sought precedence over all others. He was her man; of that, she had no doubt. Was she his woman?
A single chime tolled the last quarter of the hour, interrupting her thoughts and instilling fresh hope that the night really would come to an end. She wriggled her toes again, in anticipation of having to use them, and even though, technically speaking, she ought not to, she took out her wand and cast a Warming Charm on her shoes, throwing out another spell to block the wand light from her so-called partner.
Finally the church bell struck two; in an instant their relief showed up, startling her slightly as they made their way down the bank: Smethwyk and Knightly. She didn't know Smethwyk terribly well, but she'd shared many a coffee break with Knightly. He approached her now while his partner hung back, eyeing his surroundings cautiously.
"Hello Tonks," he said in a low voice when he reached her. "Anything happen?"
"Wotcher Daniel. No, not a peep all night, Bloody waste of time if you ask me." The second the words left her mouth, she supposed that she ought not to have said them, but she found the energy to care a little too much to muster.
She was relieved though, when the reply came as, "Yes, I think I agree with you on this one. Still, orders are orders."
Tonks sighed heavily.
"You weren't supposed to be on duty tonight, were you?" Knightly eyed her carefully.
Tonks looked at her feet, shuffling them slightly as she said softly, "No, no I wasn't." And then, because she felt the sudden need for at least a smidgeon of sympathy, she added, "Missed a party that I really want to go to. I'd been looking forward to it for weeks."
"Oh Tonks, I'm sorry." Knightly's face registered genuine apology. "If I'd known, I'd have taken the earlier shift for you."
She managed a small smile. "That's sweet of you, Daniel. It's silly to be so upset, it's just-"
"There's a man, isn't there?"
"How…?" Tonks couldn't stop herself blushing. She nodded slightly.
"I hope he's good enough for you," Knightly said half playfully, nudging her shoulder gently with his.
"Maybe too good," Tonks whispered. And then she couldn't keep from adding, "He's funny and sweet and kind and clever…And I'm quite certain he'd do anything in the world for me, if he could."
"Then I hope he realises what he could have." Knightly gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "Go home, Tonks, you look exhausted."
She smiled at him with as much fortitude as she could manage. "I will, thanks Daniel." She turned to leave, but stopped when she realised she ought to speak to her partner…Not relishing that idea, she turned back to Knightly. "Will Smethwyk send the new boy home without sending him to you first?"
"No," he answered.
"Then would you please tell him that I'm going home…He should too, and I'll catch him at some point tomorrow to write the report?"
"Of course."
"Thanks." She lowered her voice to say, "He's a bit of a pillock, you know. Thought he could squash me into taking orders from him."
Knightly whistled. "I bet that's a mistake he's never going to make again."
Tonks grinned.
"I'll let him know. Go home."
"You don't need to tell me again, I'm off. Thanks, Daniel."
They said their goodbyes and Tonks headed up the slight incline, not concerning herself with casting a disillusionment charm since the threat was baseless anyhow, and any attempt at covering her contempt for the case had rather left her hours ago.
She Apparated to Grimmauld Place and let herself in the front door, listening intently for any signs of activity. The hall was dark and lifeless, no sounds sprung from the basement. Everyone had gone to bed.
Muttering a Lumos charm, she made her way down to the kitchen, mindful of the enemy that existed in the form of the umbrella stand. She made it down the stairs without incident, heading directly for the stove. Finding the kettle already filled with water, she turned on the heat.
Her eyes wandered around the kitchen. Everywhere she looked, reminders of the party lay: plates of abandoned food, glasses half-filled with wine or whisky, paper hats that had seen better days. She'd missed it all.
She turned towards the cupboard in which the mugs were stowed, but stopped dead when she noticed a mug on the counter beside the stove, with a piece of parchment tucked beneath.
Peeking in the mug, she saw it already filled chocolate powder, and what appeared to be, on cursory glance, just the right amount of sugar. Waiting for the kettle to boil, she plucked the note from underneath the mug and read.
I'm sorry I wasn't able to say up to make this for you myself. I hope your night wasn't too tedious.
Remus
It was so typical of his foresight and thoughtfulness that a part of her wanted to go charging up into his bedroom, wake him, and sort this out once and for all. But she wouldn't. She wanted him to come to her, wanted him to take the lead so that she could be sure she hadn't pressured him into anything; because in her heart of hearts, she knew any reticence he had was rooted in self-doubt. It wasn't an opinion gained by words he'd spoken but more one obtained by knowing how it felt to be different, to sometimes not be trusted.
When the kettle signalled its readiness with a whistle, she poured hot water onto the granules he had prepared for her. As the water, chocolate and sugar mixed, she bought the concoction to her nose and took a deep breath, savouring its aroma, and her eyes closed briefly against the somersault in her tummy as she thought again how much she liked and appreciated Remus' gesture, before she headed upstairs.
Once safely ensconced in her room, she placed the still steaming mug on her bedside table and removed her clothes. Though still rueful that she hadn't got to wear them for the party, for Remus, she felt liberated to trade the unseasonable garments that had made her so uncomfortable during her watch for loose fitting, comfortable pyjamas and lie in bed sipping the cocoa he'd left for her. When she'd taken her last sip and pulled the duvet above her head, Tonks smiled with the thought that the warmth inside coaxing her into a drowse was not from the cocoa, but from the man who had made it.
To be continued...
Author's Notes: To all those who review, I will hastily dispatch Remus to leave you a note and a cup of bedtime cocoa. And I thank you in advance.
The next chapter will be up on Friday the 19th of January.
We had some wonderful entries to the Fic Advent, if you're missing the festive spirit, pop on over to Meta and have a read. You'll find the link at my Live Journal, the link to which is the homepage in my profile.
If you're interested in taking part in the next MetamorFicMoon event, keep an eye out for information about it in the next couple of weeks.
