I.Write. Fluff. I am incapable of writing things with plots.
Standard disclaimer: The characters and settings depicted in this writing belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm not making any money here. If I were, do you think I'd be sitting at this library computer drinking coffee from seven eleven? Not bloody likely.
And now here's the writing.
Nobody else in the house was awake yet. Tonks crept barefoot down the stairs, making an exaggerated effort to tiptoe on the cold floorboards. Dim, pre-dawn light filtered in through the windows, and she could hear icy winds outside. She held a single yellow rose cupped in her hands. A certain room a floor below was her destination, but when she got there it was... empty?
Oh, so he was awake, then. The surprise was already ruined, so she might as well go down and meet him. It took Tonks nearly five minutes to descend all the stairs to the kitchen (past the holly, the brilliantly decorated Christmas tree, and the many drafty windows rattling with the heavy snow blowing by outside), but she managed to reach the kitchen without tripping once.
In here, warm light came from the small fire that Remus had started. He was sitting on one of the long benches, facing the fireplace and taking occasional sips from a goblet of mulled wine. The firelight illuminated his grey hairs, his laugh lines and his crow's feet, but he looked thoughtful and at ease.
It looked as though he had been expecting company, as well, because sitting next to him was an untouched mug of thick porcelain with a chip in the handle. It was full of still- steaming hot chocolate and a pouf of whipped cream.
Remus heard her enter and turned toward her. Tonks shivered slightly- the stone floor was freezing under her bare feet, and her nightclothes were on the flimsy side. Remus motioned for Tonks to join him on the bench. She sat next to him and drew her knees to her chest, and he put a comforting arm around her shoulder.
"Happy Christmas, Tonks," he said, pressing the mug into her hands. Everything about him- from his patched robes to his posture and his slightly hoarse voice- breathed familiarity.
"Merry Christmas," Tonks said quickly. "I- erm, I brought you this," she said, suddenly nervous. She took a deep breath and handed him the yellow rose.
"Love hopeful?" he asked with a slight smile.
"Er- right. Is it- that is, did I-"
"It's wonderful, Tonks."
She laid her head down on his shoulder, and he tightened his arm around her.
Standard disclaimer: The characters and settings depicted in this writing belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm not making any money here. If I were, do you think I'd be sitting at this library computer drinking coffee from seven eleven? Not bloody likely.
And now here's the writing.
Nobody else in the house was awake yet. Tonks crept barefoot down the stairs, making an exaggerated effort to tiptoe on the cold floorboards. Dim, pre-dawn light filtered in through the windows, and she could hear icy winds outside. She held a single yellow rose cupped in her hands. A certain room a floor below was her destination, but when she got there it was... empty?
Oh, so he was awake, then. The surprise was already ruined, so she might as well go down and meet him. It took Tonks nearly five minutes to descend all the stairs to the kitchen (past the holly, the brilliantly decorated Christmas tree, and the many drafty windows rattling with the heavy snow blowing by outside), but she managed to reach the kitchen without tripping once.
In here, warm light came from the small fire that Remus had started. He was sitting on one of the long benches, facing the fireplace and taking occasional sips from a goblet of mulled wine. The firelight illuminated his grey hairs, his laugh lines and his crow's feet, but he looked thoughtful and at ease.
It looked as though he had been expecting company, as well, because sitting next to him was an untouched mug of thick porcelain with a chip in the handle. It was full of still- steaming hot chocolate and a pouf of whipped cream.
Remus heard her enter and turned toward her. Tonks shivered slightly- the stone floor was freezing under her bare feet, and her nightclothes were on the flimsy side. Remus motioned for Tonks to join him on the bench. She sat next to him and drew her knees to her chest, and he put a comforting arm around her shoulder.
"Happy Christmas, Tonks," he said, pressing the mug into her hands. Everything about him- from his patched robes to his posture and his slightly hoarse voice- breathed familiarity.
"Merry Christmas," Tonks said quickly. "I- erm, I brought you this," she said, suddenly nervous. She took a deep breath and handed him the yellow rose.
"Love hopeful?" he asked with a slight smile.
"Er- right. Is it- that is, did I-"
"It's wonderful, Tonks."
She laid her head down on his shoulder, and he tightened his arm around her.