Sweet Merlin it was bloody freezing outside.
It was a revelation Nymphadora Tonks had come to realise the hard way. Shuffling on the grassy expanse between the Three Broomsticks and the Shrieking Shack, her arms wrapped around her body in a defensive hug, lanky limbs trying to conserve as much heat as physically possible. Granted she hadn't dressed for the occasion, but naturally she hadn't expected 'meet me in Hogsmede at 6pm' to equate to 'stand around freezing your arse off until 7:30!'. Gaze flicking to her watch the auror swore before stamping her buckled boot down in frustration.
She was going to kill him. He better be stuck somewhere pinned down under at least forty Death Eaters, because she didn't get stood up by anyone. Least of all Mundungus bloody Fletcher! Yet she couldn't leave, as this entire meeting was supposedly to exchange information regarding the Order. Thunking down into the grass with a minimum of effort, Tonks pulled her knees to her chest, desperately tugging her tartan skirt down over her laddered tights in the vain hope of not catching hypothermia.
Her hair shifted from it's usual vibrant pink to a slightly dulled red, the faintest hint of boring old brown tracing in amidst the usual lines of colour. She suppressed a shudder, nose beginning to run as her cheeks turned steadily redder. She could see her own breath now, like icy mist across the darkening sky. Yet despite the overwhelming desire to listen to common sense, still she remained firmly cemented in her position. It had just gone 9 when she decided she'd had enough. (Her runny nose, tickly throat and overwhelming urge to curl up and die were the real deciding factors)
Another burst of swearing and she apparated back to Grimmauld Place, in the futile attempt to find out whether or not Fletcher was actually dead, or if she'd have the pleasure of killing him for wasting her time. Stopping just outside the door, her freezing fingers fumbled with the lock, unable to function properly enough to utilise the simple invention. She brought her hands to her mouth, breathing life over them as her foot collided rather abruptly with the door. Finally willing her extremities to work, she turned the key and stepped inside.
Immediately hit with a wave of warmth, she slammed the door shut behind her, hand raising to her mouth to suppress a sneeze as fire began to tear through her veins. She'd only been inside for thirty seconds and already her frozen body had turned into a volcano of heat. Sweat beads dropped steadily across her chest and forehead, eyes closing lazily for a moment as she stepped forwards further into the hallway.
This being Tonks though, turned the action of walking blindly into somewhat of a death trap. She'd taken two, maybe even three steps before she went flying over the same umbrella stand that often caused significant injuries. It didn't matter where they put it, she always managed to find a way to hook her foot around it. The damn thing had to be jinxed, or one of Sirius' pranks or something. There was no way in hell she could possibly be that clumsy on a regular basis.
Clinging to the doorframe for dear life (and to stop herself from falling face first) Dora let her eyes flicker open, head tilting upwards to meet a familiar grinning face. Just what she needed. To feel like utter crap, and have Sirius 'I'll torment anything with a pulse' Black laughing in her face. Charming. Still, he was offering his hand to her, and she'd be an idiot not to take it.
Standing upright with a frown she steadied herself against the wall, curious gaze meeting that of her dear cousin.
"We really need to work on your stealth luv' " he quipped, arms folding as he shot her an appraising look. The muscles in his jaw twitched ever so slightly as his hand reached upwards to rub the back of his shaggy black mop of hair, a hint of concern lingering over his features. "What happened to you then, my little Nymphadorable chum? The grunge look really isn't working for you."
Tonks could've and would've kicked him had she had the energy, but right now all she could manage was a rude, and somewhat well known hand gesture. "Fletcher didn't turn up. I've been stood in Hogsmede for the last three hours." She forced out through gritted teeth, another sneeze following almost immediately afterwards. She brought her sleeve to her nose, blinking to clear her head.
Sirius visibly tensed, arm moving to drape itself around her shoulder before guiding her gently towards the living room in a brotherly fashion. "Oi, Paging Doctor Lupin, we need some chocolate here stat!" He called out into the emptiness of the house, knowing full well his long standing friend would be better equipped to handle this situation than he was. Still guiding the young witch into the room, he nudged her down into a seat beside the fire, and tossed a blanket in her general direction.
Hands on his hips he shot her another look, this time laced with just a pinch more compassion. She was just laughing at him now, sweat dripping from her, skin a mixture of alabaster and crimson. Poor kid really was suffering. "Does that make you Nurse Black then?"She asked finally, words still managing to dance off her tongue with their usual exuberance. Padfoot looked affronted for a moment, before his hands raised in defence, and he flashed her a devilish wink.
"I don't do sponge baths before you ask. We're close Dora, but we're not -that- close. Remus on the other hand…"He never got to finish his sentence, as a cushion had just miraculously collided with his face. Combined with a short,sharp burst of laughter, it seemed that his baby cousin would indeed live to fight another day. He just wished Lupin would hurry up and get his backside in here armed with confectionery goodness.
All this compassion and acting responsible was making him awfully hungry.