A note from the author: I do not own Harry Potter, nor it's characters. Please comment reviews, favourite, and follow (much appreciated). Updated whenever possible due to current technical issues. I'm not sure if this is really important, but I never really envisioned the characters the way they were portrayed physically in the movies, but I will try to keep things as canon as possible otherwise. Mature content/Trigger Warning: substance abuse, swearing, violence, and sexual content (please be aware that is not a story solely based on erotic writings, but will contain some nudity and the such, though descriptions will be kept to a bare minimum). While this story is meant to follow the material and timeline of the books starting in September of 1995, this story is premised around the shipping of RL/NT and RL/SB, as well as eventually containing a relationship between the three, all in a bit of a slow-burn fashion.
A dark overcast loomed over London. The sun had not come up that morning, ducking behind them as a storm began to roll in. For now, the rain stopped, water washing down the streets and sidewalks and draining away in small whirlpools on the pavement. Only misty droplets spattered on the hood of her coat.
A woman was walking down the sidewalk. Her black boots stomped into puddles, water splashing up onto her ankles. It was risky, coming here in the middle of the day, but if anyone was lurking the perimeter, she knew to duck into the park across the street and circle back to go home. Thankfully, there was no one occupying the street. Husbands had gone to work and children to school, and there didn't appear to be any traffic or lurking housewives that she could see.
So naturally, no one noticed when the building split itself open between the eleventh and thirteenth flats to reveal a door. The woman approached the door while routinely checking behind her for a wandering on-looker. This visit was unannounced, the silver serpent-shaped knocker hitting against the door, hoping that someone would respond without her use of the loud doorbell... given there was no doorknob on the outside. She knew how to get in with magic, but since it was not time for a meeting, she felt impolite letting herself in.
She was greeted after about a minute by a man on the other side, holding a toothbrush in his mouth. He was a bit of a harsh sight at first, a gruesome scar across his nose that decorated half his face, but was a handsome man underneath. He had once had fuller hair in his youth, but he had been unfortunate enough to have aged terribly; the sandy brown of his hair had been replaced in patches with grey hairs and his eyes had dark bugs beneath them. His striped jumper was half tucked in his slacks as if he had hurried to dress as he came to the door.
The building began to seal itself shut as she crossed the threshold. "Wotcher, Remus." The woman smiled, brushing the hood on her jacket off with her hand.
"Hmm." He briefly held up his hand to wave a greeting as the two trailed down the musty hallway. It was lit by gas lamps on the walls that seemed to be well placed in the sense that the light illuminated the suspended, dead faces of the house elves from below. To her, the house felt like a crypt that shrunk in size in small incriments every time she came by. It seemed like an odd place to find a friendly face who just wanted to brush his teeth.
The burgundy runner had a massive lip over the creaking wood panels. The woman stared straight at the back of the man's head, making a conscious effort to keep her feet from turning inwards as she walked, but not too much of an effort. As if on cue, her foot caught on the rug and she stumbled forward, stubbing her foot on the umbrella stand and over-correcting, knocking herself and the stand into its respective side table with a loud clamour. For a massive umbrella stand made from a troll's foot that protruded so far from the wall, forcing occupants to make an effort around it, it was hollow on the inside, even the toes. Firm, but hollow.
The man named Remus turned to look at her, his hand still holding onto the toothbrush. He didn't bother to react to her, instead gave her a look of darting his eyes away with raised eyebrows and awaiting a second and louder commotion. She didn't bother apologizing as she straightened the stand to it's original position.
"Filthy, scum-of-the-earth half-breeds, occupying my sacred home! The home I built, taken over with greedy, selfish, cur with no respect for the superiors that they so savagely ransacked and pillaged from!" A woman's voice from upstairs shrieked, echoing through the house. It was a shrill and unforgiving wail, as if the woman had let the air out from her lungs after decades of silence. The culprit of the awakening of the yelling woman looked up at the stairwell to see a second man, hastily pulling closed a thick, velvet curtain over an animated portrait of a woman, standing up from her chair and yelling. The woman noted the woman in the painting's clothes looked too old fashioned for the twentieth century, even for a witch, and imagined that it was the tight fitting waist of her dress squeezing the air out of her to muster up the powerful screams.
"If I didn't know better, I'd almost say she's loud enough to wake up the neighbours." She joked nervously. Had her boss been around, she would have been immediately corrected in a cynical tone that no, Nymphadora, no one can hear us from here.
Remus had disappeared into the bathroom to supposedly dispose of the afore mentioned tooth brush.
"Hi, Tonks." The other man said, padding down the stairs to greet her at the lading. Somehow, he looked remarkably different from Remus in age, despite the two having attend school the same years. It had taken him a bit of polishing to get to where he was, but time had been kinder to him than it had to his friend. He had thicker and more curly black hair that he had tied back on his head and his dark skin was not scarred or deformed on his face. However, he had been plagued with worried lines that creased his forehead and cheeks even when making neutral expressions. He had on a plain muggle shirt that accentuated the black tattoos that ran down his arms and pair of denim pants. "You off work today?"
Tonks, known by fewer by her first name, let out a sigh, stripping off her coat. Out of the three, she was the strangest amongst the tomb of a house they inhabited. She was a woman from another time, with round cheeks and a perky nose, shocking the room with the display of vibrantly short pink hair. Both of her ears had multiple piercings and her piercing eyes had been blotted with black makeup, causing a strong contrast from her washed out skin. Her pants had been purchased intentionally with wide, baggy holes over the knees. She could get away with pulling off a black shirt with the name of the wizarding band The Weird Sisters plastered on the front in public, given most people that looked at her had no interest in approaching to ask about the band. "On call in case something goes down at the Ministry. Anyone else around?"
"No, just us. And it seems like something always is." Remus said passively, returning from the other room and leaning on his arm against the door frame.
"Heard any news?" The other man inquired curiously. She and the few others on the outside, including the occasional newspaper when someone bothered to bring one by for him, were his only source of information, food, and general company.
"Nothing new, Sirius. I'm sorry." Tonks replied. Her voice was sympathetic to the lonely man, but hinted with frustration at his repetitive adamance to gather information for him, as if it were her fault he was cooped up or that she was withholding important facts on the Ministry's ever so slowly declining status. "Nothing's changing as of the last time I heard. I mean, there's the ever-present Half-Breed Legislature over our heads and I think I heard a bit on foreign taxes, but besides that..."
Remus's face became visibly upset at the mention of the Half-Breed Legislature. Given his current position as a werewolf, he had already lost several privileges including voting, protection against the right to refuse service (there was also a loophole here that allowed businesses to refuse hiring him), adoption of children, an education among people not afflicted with the half-breed status (though he had completed his education already, werewolves were not wanted near Hogwarts), testifying in court, the right to equal pay, and the right to healthcare equal. As of now, there was a looming threat of fining those involved in an interracial (humans/non-humans/half-breeds) marriage, though there were complications, given that many people argued on the exact definition of both the identity and marriages of half-breeds. For example, how can you compare the marriage of a veela and a wizard to an elf and a wizard?
Tonks could see his look of distress. "It hasn't changed, I swear. And for now, they still have some of their anti-prejudice laws in place." She assured. "We have good people in the Beast and Being Departments working to keep those up. If anything even happens, it won't be this year. Actually, they're working on trying to get some of it back, but you know how the Prophet is..."
The air grew thick in the hallway. "That's... good to know." Remus tried to say lightly. "Without them, they'd probably have driven us all underground, what few are still around in public nowadays."
"I don't understand it." Sirius declared, his finger sliding on the banister, leaving behind clean streaks amongst the dust. "If they'd learn to get their heads out of their asses for once, maybe some of them would learn that testifying in court's more important than running around the countryside like a bunch of idiotic savages, but that's just me."
"Have you all eaten yet? I'm starving." Tonks gestured for them to follow her into the dining room to continue the conversation. It was a cleaner room, certainly, but no less decrepit despite the massive fireplace, tall windows, and glittering chandelier.
"Sirius, you know how they think. 'We'll never live normal lives, so why not brutally injure and murder people?'" Remus explained, watching as the woman sifted through the drawers and pantries. Even Molly Weasley wouldn't touch half the stuff in there. Mysterious bottles with many colours of liquid and peeling labels, giant spiders that were once believed to have been completely exterminated from the kitchen, rotting cheese, and a drawer full of polished spoons seemed to be the only things she could find. "They don't testify in court."
"Hey, Sirius," Tonks said, picking up a skillet from the hanging rack above. Almost immediately, the entire pan fell off and into the counter with a loud thud, rust flying everywhere.
"Yes?" He replied, crossing his arms in a grumpy manner. Two years ago, he had escaped from prison and two years ago, he was stripped of any humanity, empathy, or sense in the public's eye. Even an attempt to defend himself would cause mass hysteria and end inevitably in his soul being ripped from his body, a sensation he believed he had felt before and wouldn't have wished it upon anyone before death. To say he was bitter would an understatement; his life would be a confinement to this house.
"Oh, well, as you can see, there's just a bit of rust on the pan here," Tonks said dryly, holding the handle in one hand and the pan in the other. "I was wondering if either of you had an issue with that. See, I'm sure it's plenty healthy, especially if you're... iron deficient or something, but I didn't want to go ahead if you thought the pan could be disease ridden. Wouldn't want anyone getting sick."
Remus got a chuckle out of it, but Sirius seemed less than thrilled. "Don't know what you even plan on making, given the state of this wasteland referred to as 'the kitchen'." He said.
"Oh, come on now," The pink haired woman sighed, set the remains of the pan down with a defeated stare, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt. "Lighten up. There's more to life than sulking about the news. Besides, just because it needs some... work, doessn't make it hopeless."
"No, really, we don't have food." Sirius replied firmly. "And I believe I have the right to complain about that."
"What do you mean you-"
"We don't have food." Remus said, his face dejectedly straightening in agreement. "Molly brings food twice a week: Sunday and Thursday, except on Order Meeting weeks, then only on Sunday. And I don't think she knows I'm staying here full time yet. Given that neither of us exactly have an income... we're not really eating much around here since the kids left for school."
"I didn't know you were living here either." Tonks pointed out, her eyebrows knitting together.
The two men became slightly flustered for a moment, but Sirius was the one to prevent calamity. "I didn't know you were either." He stated, looking over at Remus. Tonks nodded briefly, still slightly jarred at the idea of her friend not managing his own home. Were something to happen... She fought it from her mind. "Alright, well, I will volunteer myself to go get us breakfast." She announced, walking back to the door, turning on her heels to look at the two. "Make yourselves useful and throw that thing away. I'm not even sure it's even worth a repairing charm. Also, the lurking smell of death coming from the boiler is a bit stronger than usual and I could smell it from the sink, so you might want to check into that while I'm gone."
"Maybe Kreacher died..." Sirius mumbled, legitimately hopeful.
"Thank you!" Remus called after the woman, who gave him a simple smile and a salute before slipping out into the regular world.