In the relatively short time that Remus had known Nymphadora Tonks, there were certain things that he had come to know intimately about her: the lovely citrus scent of her, the fact that she was likely to stumble at least once before meeting her destination of either the kitchen or drawing room of Headquarters, the sound her heavy combat-style boots made as her feet carried them up the many stairs of Headquarters. He always knew when she'd entered the house.
Today was no exception.
Except that today didn't bring with it the heady anticipation of knowing he'd soon be in the same room as the young woman who had been occupying more and more of his thoughts lately. Today he nearly dreaded her arrival. Nearly, but not quite. Even in his dour mood, just hours out from his latest transformation, there was no way he could truly dread being in her presence. The only thing he really dreaded was coming to the necessary realization that he needed to put a great deal of distance between them. It was nothing she had done, of course—if there was anything in his life to give true perspective, his monthly meeting with the full moon was it.
The usual post-transformation ritual of his favorite tea was of little comfort as the sound of Nymphadora's booted feet ascended—safely, for once—to the upper floors, presumably to change for her mission that evening with Severus. Nymphadora's mission partner and her cousin were his unfortunate company at the moment, causing his already techy mood to sour further as they bickered. He couldn't help but notice Severus' dress robes, indicating the level of formality that went along with the mission they were navigating to Malfoy Manor that evening. What would Nymphadora be wearing for such an occasion? Despite his mood, anticipation bubbled at seeing her in something other than her usual denims. Not that he minded the denims and leggings that were her usual custom—quite the opposite, really, since the delectable curve of her arse was always displayed so perfectly in such attire.
Remus shook his head. These were precisely the thoughts he needed to avoid. Frustrated by his train of thought and unable to endure two grown men jabbing and sparring at one another as if they were still adolescents, Remus pushed back from the table and stalked out of the kitchen. Maybe it was best if he simply retired to his room and avoided Nymphadora all together. Surely she wouldn't miss him.
Unfortunately, avoiding the young witch wasn't in the cards. Just as Remus had begun trudging up from the basement kitchen, he heard footsteps, softer than earlier indicating that Nymphadora's footwear choice for the evening was something other than her dragon hide boots. Remus stared openly as Nymphadora stepped more daintily than expected down the steps until she was standing even with his height. He'd never have been able to conjure to his mind the image that was before him. The cream-colored dress she was wearing showed off slender shoulders and a trim waist. Remus stopped his perusal there—it wouldn't be prudent to allow his eyes to do more than glimpse the demure amount of cleavage he spied as his gaze swept up her body to her face.
He knew he should say something as he looked at her face, expectant of some sort of response to the words she'd spoken. But his mind was blank for words as he briefly imagined himself in a set of dress robes, arm extended to escort her out of the depressing house for a night out to...anywhere, really. Even being the one to join her on the mission to Malfoy Manor, charmed in a disguise or Polyjuiced into someone allowed entrance to the grand Malfoy home, would be preferable to watching her leave on the arm of someone else whilst looking so damned lovely.
"You look…"
There weren't words to describe how she looked; everything that came to mind seemed insufficient. All he knew in that moment was that she was far too good for him, but rather than vanish the smile from her face by allowing the harsh words that were taunting him in his mind to influence his response, he forced his lips to turn up in what he hoped was some semblance of a grin. At least if she couldn't be his, he'd always have the memory tucked away in his mind of her looking so beautiful.
A/N: Posting two weeks in a row!? As my two-year-old would say..."what the heck?".
I'll be back next week with "Friends to Lovers"!
