Diclaimer: I own none of this. Though frequently I wish I owned Lupin...
***drules**
Rating: PG-13...might go up soon though ( *wink*wink*...*nudge*nudge*)
And now...ON WITH THE FIC!!!!!!
*Wombats and Postage Stamps*
"To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already dead."
~Bertrand Russell (1872 - 1970)
Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed heavily as he removed the last of the the photographic images which had, up until recently, adorned his office walls. From piles on the floor, desk, chairs and nearby rubbish bin, Sirius Black's gaunt face stared back at him. Not the same jovial face he's become accustomed to seeing around Grimmauld place, but the sallow scrap of humanity the Ministry had been hunting for the past three years. Hunting. The word echoed in his mind as he stared at a particularly grim image. Yes, that sounded about right. Sirius was a hunted man. One who'd given his life to preserve what little good still existed in the world, only to die in infamy. Shaklebolt's fist clenched involuntarily around the photo he still held. With some force, he threw the balled-up image into the waste paper bin. It tetered ominously for a few seconds as if contemplating overturning completley, then stopped abruptly as though thinking better of the idea. Shacklebolt returned his attention to the task at hand. As he reached for a small stack of parchments topped with a Daily Prophet article boldly proclaiming that Sirius had been sighted in Romania, a sound caught his attention. He paused, listening closley, all senses on the alert. He could hear the usuall murmmer of voices from surrounding cubicles, the gentle whirring hum of Madeye's distant "dark detection" contraptions, quills scratching on parchment, and all manor of other noises he'd become accustomed to hearing scince he'd begun working for the Ministry nearly 12 years eariler, yet...
-there it was again- a soft wuffling sort of noise as though someone was trying to disguise the sound of their breathing- He was as paranoid as Madeye! -
-or-
Shacklesbolt glanced accross the corridor, immeadiatly identifying the source of the mysterious noise.
- Snoring-
Nymphadora Tonks was leaning back in her chair, combat boots proped up on the clutter of papers and other micillenious oddities that obscured the surface of her desk. The sight of the napping young auror cheered Kingsley slightly. Today her hair was a deep, forest green causing her to forcibly resemble the wood-being for which she was likley named. With a particularly loud snort, Nymphadora lurched onto her side, involuntarily curling her feet towards her. The chair underneath her fell backwards, delivering it's occupant to the ground with a tumultuos "BANG". In a flash the young Auror was on her feet, wand poised, as she scanned her office for a non-existant attacker. Some heads peered curiously over cubicle walls, but most were used to the frequent sounds of chaos and destruction that issued from Nymphadora Tonks' office.
"CONSTANT VIGILLANCE!" Again Tonks jumped, this time rounding on Kinglsley, who grinned boyishly from the doorway.
"Don't DO tha-a-a-at!"
She said, trying fruitlessly to supress a huge yawn. Kingsley, still grinning, used his wand to pull up a chair.
" You object to waking up to the crooning voice of Allistor Moody?"
Tonks snorted,
"Speaking of Madeye, why isn't he in yet? What's he up to? Order stuff?" Shacklebolt's face was creased with a frown as if in silent criticism of her choice of topic and the volume with which she chose to broach it. Tonks, not the type to blush, sat down hard. "Sorry" she whispered.
"He's escorting our friends to court." Shacklebolt said grimley "Ensuring that nobody fails to arrive at their hearing."
Tonks stared blankley at the wall, silent in thought. "I can't BELIEVE we let Lestrange get away!" she hissed savaugley. "After what she did - Oh! Good morning Mr.Weasly!"
-Tonks finished, rather louder than was natural. She stood up so quickly, her chair clattered to the floor. Flinging her arm wildley in it's direction, she knocked over a nearby ink pot, sending it's conternts hurtling towards Kingsley's lap. He leaped back, avoiding disaster by a fraction of a second.
"Oops" Tonks breathed. Arthur was the first to recover. He kept his tone clipped and professional though his eyes betrayed some concern.
"Good morning Shaklebolt" he said with a nodd to Kingsley "And Miss -er-"
"Tonks" Tonks supplied. Arthur shot her a quick wink before returning his attention to Kingsley.
"Yes,well, Shacklebolt -something's come up- I think you should see..." His voice trailed off as he glanced anxiously at the neighbouring cubicles. Lowering his voice he muttered, "My office, as soon as you can manage it." With that he turned on his heel and strode purpousfully down the corridor. Tonks and Shaklebolt exchanged a worried look. Slipping a hand into her robes, Nymphadora extracted her wand.
"Scourgify" she muttered, giving it a lazy wave in the general direction of the dark ink splatters on the wall and carpet. Sitting back down, Tonks watched the dark frame of Kingsley Shacklebolt whip around the door and down the hall in the wake of Arthur Weasly. She rocked her chair gently back, gazing at the ceiling. Two purple memos fluttered lazily by overhead, and a fly looped in drunken circles around a light fixture. Golden rays of warm July sun fell accross her face and Nymphadora felt her eyelds begin to droop. I'll just rest them, she thought with a yawn. Minuits, maybe hours later, something moved nearby. Though her eyes remained closed, Tonks was brought to a sudden, alert wakefulness. Instinctually, her hand flew to her wand in such a flurry of movement that, for the third time that day, the small office was jarred with the resounding "BANG" of a chair hitting the floor.
"I'm up! I'm up!" Nymphadora mumbled grogily, stuggling to free herself from the robes which had some how wound themselves around her ankles. When the spots cleared from her eyes and the room was back in focus, Tonks found herself face to face with a grinning Shacklebolt.
"No hurry" he said casually "Get the sleep while you can." Curiosity quickley overtook the anger she'd felf at being woken again.
"Why?" she asked, suddenly sucpicious.
"It's Mundungus," Kingsley said with exasperation. "He's in with the Department of Magical Goods' Trade and Possesion Board right now, answering questions with regards to the dissapearance of 50 odd cauldrons last year ..." Tonks gave a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a gasp. Kingsley looked as though he was trying to supress a grin himslef, "Laugh away," he said smoothly, "You're taking his shifts." Tonks clapped her mouth shut abruptly. Before she could protest, Kingsley continued. "You're first shift's tonight, Seven o'clock, you'll be relieving Remus...but come by The Burrow around five for an early tea. Arthur says there's a roast and a fresh batch of scones in the oven, and Molly's made Truffle for dessert."
The day droned on, as days in July tend to, and at a quarter to five Tonks looked up from the most recent eddition of The Quibbler, to find Headquareters almost deserted. This was hardley surprising as it was a gloriously sunny Friday afternoon, but never the less, a bit disconcerting. Accros the corridor Shacklebolt had propped his feet up on a stack of photos (bering the face of a somewhat disgruntled Sirius Black) as he leafed casually through the Daily Prophet. As if sensing an audience, Kingsley raised his head.
"Ready to go?" He inquired, glancing up at the Gold guilded clock which hung on the East wall. Tonks returned her gaze to the magazine page in front of her,
"One minuite," she replied turning it upside down, "I've got to find out my true identity."
As Nymphadora scored her quiz, Kingsley stood, stretching the tight muscles in his back. "I'm a seasick green wombat covered in postage stamps," said Tonks, throwing down the magazine in mild disgust. "Shall we?"
Kingsley nodded, and with a small 'pop' he was gone. Tonks followed suit, appearing in the Weasley's small kitchen a second later.
"Oh wonderfull! You made it! I wasn't sure if you would , what with the Ministry aknowleging the return of You-Know-Who and all, your lot must hopping busy!" Molly bubbled apon seeing them. "George, set two more places -and do it the normal way mind, this is my good china." The redhaired boy to her left looked indignant.
"I'm Fred!" he protested loudly. "Honestly, by the time you reach a certain age you would expect-"
Mrs.Weasley handed him the plates "Sorry Fred dear."
"Oi, George! Come see what Bill's levitated onto the roof!" Called Fred from the doorway.
The 'Fred' who stood in the kitchen grinned broadly. Molly rolled her eyes.
"Make sure to take the cuttlery-"
"Already on it!" said George, extracting his wand.
"Not-" Molly started, but it was to late.
"Accio Cuttlery!" George roared. The drawer containing the cuttlery sprang open. Spoons, forks, and several large steak-knives leapt from their wooden prison, embeddeing themselves in nearby cabinets, and narrowly missing Tonks and Shacklebolt, both of whom had ducked apon seeing the wand. George backed away sheepishly. "Right, anyone needs me, I'll be outside." There was a small 'pop' and he was gone. Tonks and Kingsley both stared at Molly who looked as though she might explode. Tonks reached for a particluarily bent fork which protruded from the wall. Mrs. Weasly, fumming , declined her help and issued them out the door.
**MWHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!** And I'm done!! More soon~~*~~PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!
Rating: PG-13...might go up soon though ( *wink*wink*...*nudge*nudge*)
And now...ON WITH THE FIC!!!!!!
*Wombats and Postage Stamps*
"To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already dead."
~Bertrand Russell (1872 - 1970)
Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed heavily as he removed the last of the the photographic images which had, up until recently, adorned his office walls. From piles on the floor, desk, chairs and nearby rubbish bin, Sirius Black's gaunt face stared back at him. Not the same jovial face he's become accustomed to seeing around Grimmauld place, but the sallow scrap of humanity the Ministry had been hunting for the past three years. Hunting. The word echoed in his mind as he stared at a particularly grim image. Yes, that sounded about right. Sirius was a hunted man. One who'd given his life to preserve what little good still existed in the world, only to die in infamy. Shaklebolt's fist clenched involuntarily around the photo he still held. With some force, he threw the balled-up image into the waste paper bin. It tetered ominously for a few seconds as if contemplating overturning completley, then stopped abruptly as though thinking better of the idea. Shacklebolt returned his attention to the task at hand. As he reached for a small stack of parchments topped with a Daily Prophet article boldly proclaiming that Sirius had been sighted in Romania, a sound caught his attention. He paused, listening closley, all senses on the alert. He could hear the usuall murmmer of voices from surrounding cubicles, the gentle whirring hum of Madeye's distant "dark detection" contraptions, quills scratching on parchment, and all manor of other noises he'd become accustomed to hearing scince he'd begun working for the Ministry nearly 12 years eariler, yet...
-there it was again- a soft wuffling sort of noise as though someone was trying to disguise the sound of their breathing- He was as paranoid as Madeye! -
-or-
Shacklesbolt glanced accross the corridor, immeadiatly identifying the source of the mysterious noise.
- Snoring-
Nymphadora Tonks was leaning back in her chair, combat boots proped up on the clutter of papers and other micillenious oddities that obscured the surface of her desk. The sight of the napping young auror cheered Kingsley slightly. Today her hair was a deep, forest green causing her to forcibly resemble the wood-being for which she was likley named. With a particularly loud snort, Nymphadora lurched onto her side, involuntarily curling her feet towards her. The chair underneath her fell backwards, delivering it's occupant to the ground with a tumultuos "BANG". In a flash the young Auror was on her feet, wand poised, as she scanned her office for a non-existant attacker. Some heads peered curiously over cubicle walls, but most were used to the frequent sounds of chaos and destruction that issued from Nymphadora Tonks' office.
"CONSTANT VIGILLANCE!" Again Tonks jumped, this time rounding on Kinglsley, who grinned boyishly from the doorway.
"Don't DO tha-a-a-at!"
She said, trying fruitlessly to supress a huge yawn. Kingsley, still grinning, used his wand to pull up a chair.
" You object to waking up to the crooning voice of Allistor Moody?"
Tonks snorted,
"Speaking of Madeye, why isn't he in yet? What's he up to? Order stuff?" Shacklebolt's face was creased with a frown as if in silent criticism of her choice of topic and the volume with which she chose to broach it. Tonks, not the type to blush, sat down hard. "Sorry" she whispered.
"He's escorting our friends to court." Shacklebolt said grimley "Ensuring that nobody fails to arrive at their hearing."
Tonks stared blankley at the wall, silent in thought. "I can't BELIEVE we let Lestrange get away!" she hissed savaugley. "After what she did - Oh! Good morning Mr.Weasly!"
-Tonks finished, rather louder than was natural. She stood up so quickly, her chair clattered to the floor. Flinging her arm wildley in it's direction, she knocked over a nearby ink pot, sending it's conternts hurtling towards Kingsley's lap. He leaped back, avoiding disaster by a fraction of a second.
"Oops" Tonks breathed. Arthur was the first to recover. He kept his tone clipped and professional though his eyes betrayed some concern.
"Good morning Shaklebolt" he said with a nodd to Kingsley "And Miss -er-"
"Tonks" Tonks supplied. Arthur shot her a quick wink before returning his attention to Kingsley.
"Yes,well, Shacklebolt -something's come up- I think you should see..." His voice trailed off as he glanced anxiously at the neighbouring cubicles. Lowering his voice he muttered, "My office, as soon as you can manage it." With that he turned on his heel and strode purpousfully down the corridor. Tonks and Shaklebolt exchanged a worried look. Slipping a hand into her robes, Nymphadora extracted her wand.
"Scourgify" she muttered, giving it a lazy wave in the general direction of the dark ink splatters on the wall and carpet. Sitting back down, Tonks watched the dark frame of Kingsley Shacklebolt whip around the door and down the hall in the wake of Arthur Weasly. She rocked her chair gently back, gazing at the ceiling. Two purple memos fluttered lazily by overhead, and a fly looped in drunken circles around a light fixture. Golden rays of warm July sun fell accross her face and Nymphadora felt her eyelds begin to droop. I'll just rest them, she thought with a yawn. Minuits, maybe hours later, something moved nearby. Though her eyes remained closed, Tonks was brought to a sudden, alert wakefulness. Instinctually, her hand flew to her wand in such a flurry of movement that, for the third time that day, the small office was jarred with the resounding "BANG" of a chair hitting the floor.
"I'm up! I'm up!" Nymphadora mumbled grogily, stuggling to free herself from the robes which had some how wound themselves around her ankles. When the spots cleared from her eyes and the room was back in focus, Tonks found herself face to face with a grinning Shacklebolt.
"No hurry" he said casually "Get the sleep while you can." Curiosity quickley overtook the anger she'd felf at being woken again.
"Why?" she asked, suddenly sucpicious.
"It's Mundungus," Kingsley said with exasperation. "He's in with the Department of Magical Goods' Trade and Possesion Board right now, answering questions with regards to the dissapearance of 50 odd cauldrons last year ..." Tonks gave a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a gasp. Kingsley looked as though he was trying to supress a grin himslef, "Laugh away," he said smoothly, "You're taking his shifts." Tonks clapped her mouth shut abruptly. Before she could protest, Kingsley continued. "You're first shift's tonight, Seven o'clock, you'll be relieving Remus...but come by The Burrow around five for an early tea. Arthur says there's a roast and a fresh batch of scones in the oven, and Molly's made Truffle for dessert."
The day droned on, as days in July tend to, and at a quarter to five Tonks looked up from the most recent eddition of The Quibbler, to find Headquareters almost deserted. This was hardley surprising as it was a gloriously sunny Friday afternoon, but never the less, a bit disconcerting. Accros the corridor Shacklebolt had propped his feet up on a stack of photos (bering the face of a somewhat disgruntled Sirius Black) as he leafed casually through the Daily Prophet. As if sensing an audience, Kingsley raised his head.
"Ready to go?" He inquired, glancing up at the Gold guilded clock which hung on the East wall. Tonks returned her gaze to the magazine page in front of her,
"One minuite," she replied turning it upside down, "I've got to find out my true identity."
As Nymphadora scored her quiz, Kingsley stood, stretching the tight muscles in his back. "I'm a seasick green wombat covered in postage stamps," said Tonks, throwing down the magazine in mild disgust. "Shall we?"
Kingsley nodded, and with a small 'pop' he was gone. Tonks followed suit, appearing in the Weasley's small kitchen a second later.
"Oh wonderfull! You made it! I wasn't sure if you would , what with the Ministry aknowleging the return of You-Know-Who and all, your lot must hopping busy!" Molly bubbled apon seeing them. "George, set two more places -and do it the normal way mind, this is my good china." The redhaired boy to her left looked indignant.
"I'm Fred!" he protested loudly. "Honestly, by the time you reach a certain age you would expect-"
Mrs.Weasley handed him the plates "Sorry Fred dear."
"Oi, George! Come see what Bill's levitated onto the roof!" Called Fred from the doorway.
The 'Fred' who stood in the kitchen grinned broadly. Molly rolled her eyes.
"Make sure to take the cuttlery-"
"Already on it!" said George, extracting his wand.
"Not-" Molly started, but it was to late.
"Accio Cuttlery!" George roared. The drawer containing the cuttlery sprang open. Spoons, forks, and several large steak-knives leapt from their wooden prison, embeddeing themselves in nearby cabinets, and narrowly missing Tonks and Shacklebolt, both of whom had ducked apon seeing the wand. George backed away sheepishly. "Right, anyone needs me, I'll be outside." There was a small 'pop' and he was gone. Tonks and Kingsley both stared at Molly who looked as though she might explode. Tonks reached for a particluarily bent fork which protruded from the wall. Mrs. Weasly, fumming , declined her help and issued them out the door.
**MWHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!** And I'm done!! More soon~~*~~PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!