Disclaimer: These characters, settings, etc. do not belong to me in any way. They are the creations of J.K. Rowling. I am only using them for the fun and practice of writing.
Warning: Spoilers for the Deathly Hallows, somewhere in the beginning of the book.
The near-dawn silence was stifling in the dining room, void of everything save far too many cluttered bookshelves. For a brief moment, Remus was reluctant to enter. Edging his way to the nearest shelf, he hesitantly picked up yesterday's unopened letter. Surprisingly steady hands broke the seal and pulled out the pamphlet tucked inside. Remus' mouth went dry.
Throwing the new pamphlet on the ever-increasing pile of papers, Remus fell unceremoniously into the chair. He laid heavy elbows on the dusty table, rubbing his face with rough hands. Lacing stiff fingers together, he gently pressed his thumbs into the inner corners of his closed eyes. He inhaled sharply, jaw set.
Slowly, cool air seeped in from the window. Soft thunder rolled in the distance as the muted, pattering mantra of late autumn rain continued with placid indifference. Scarcely tilting his head, Remus opened brown eyes to watch the small puddle upon the windowsill grow steadily, drop by drop. He closed his eyes.
Somewhere in the direction of the bedroom, he could vaguely discern the scratchy rustling of cotton blankets and sheets, the groggy tumble of limbs and furniture, and the shuffling of bare feet on the cold, linoleum floor.
"'s early," Tonks said, her voice hoarse and low.
"Couldn't sleep," he replied, unmoving.
Gently, she ran fingers through his hair, her lips ghosting a kiss on the top of his head. "D'you want tea? Toast?"
Remus sat back in the chair, dropping his arms and looking into her eyes. "Not really."
"Well, that's all I can make this early in the morning," Tonks said, ending in a quiet mumble of a laugh. She firmly took hold of Remus' hands and pulled him out of the chair, backing slowly into the tiny kitchen.
Remus followed, watching her dancing eyes and unable to bring himself to smile. He felt the soft skin of her forearms slide around his neck. Her dry lips brushed roughly across his own, cracked and chewed. And for a brief moment, the smell of her musty pajamas brought him back to the muttered insults from a skulking house elf, the bitter laugh of a bored and frustrated Sirius, and Molly's futile attempts to warm the dreary kitchen air of Grimmauld Place.
Tonks leaned back, a lopsided smile on her face. Remus simply stared into her dark eyes as she brushed a strand of grey hair from his face. Regret etched its way into the lines on his face. Her hips shifted beneath his hands as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "It's raining." The sound was sharp and itchy, the words nothing and everything.
He raised a callused palm to the gentle line of her jaw. And he kissed her dry lips, her mouth sour with early morning, his none the better. Her startled gasp fell short, muffled in the emptiness of the kitchen. Pulling away, Remus shifted and pressed his half-chewed lips to her temple. He wrapped fingers in her violet hair – soft, yet coarse with split ends.
Remus' stomach growled loudly accompanied by the awkward, stretched feeling of hunger. "Maybe some toast, after all," he murmured sheepishly, reaching behind her for the loaf of bread.
Snatching it from his hands, she replied, "Coming right up."