By the way, I posted the first two chapters of a Draco/Hermione ficlet, which is a lot more experimental than 'Weak', and better, I think, in terms of language and atmosphere. Everyone is of course warmly invited to read (and review) it :)
Disclaimer: I don't own
9. Firewhisky
Summer passed, filled with lazy hours of sunbathing, reading adventure novels, Muggle magazines and Circe's countless letters from Spain, humming along to the Wizarding Wireless Network, roaming around Camden Market with her cousin Amy and getting drunk for the first time in her life afterwards – the way she looked at breakfast the next morning was enough to have Ted in a fit of laughter, which caused Andromeda to interrupt her lecture on alcohol abuse to go on about inconsistent parenting – and one Quidditch match, the Holyhead Harpies against the Ballycastle Bats, which she attended in the company of her classmates Brian Harris and Sophie Bradley. Brian, who was supporting the Bats, looked uncharacteristically scary in his all-black outfit, and forgot all about his usual quiet and modest behaviour when the Bats won 200 to 80.
Then, halfway August, the Christophers returned from Spain, and Tonks arranged to meet them at the Leaky Cauldron to go shopping in Diagon Alley. She gathered all the money she could find inside and underneath the various socks, cushions, boxes, cauldrons and flowerpots in her room, so she would at least be able to buy Circe and herself decent amounts of icecream, then cast one final glance at her purple-haired self in the mirror and, satisfied, noisily clomped down the stairs to the living room. Her parents had left some money on the fireplace mantle, next to the jar of Floo powder. Tonks didn't really like Flooing, since she'd usually fail to keep her balance and end up covered in ashes and flat on her face, but Apparating inside a busy place like the Leaky Cauldron would probably get her into even more trouble. She remembered a story Circe told her once about a wizard who had accidentally Apparated to a spot where someone else had been standing already – they had been forced to spend a considerable time in St. Mungo's before they were able to leave as two separate and recognizeable persons again, though rumour had it the healers had never been able to figure out exactly who owned which kidney.
Oh well, she thought. It's not as if a considerable part of the Wizarding world hasn't seen you flat on your face already at some point in time. Throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, she stated 'the Leaky Cauldron' and stepped into the fire.
The living room disappeared in the blink of an eye. Fireplaces flashed by on both sides of her as she tried to keep her balance despite the speed she was repidly gaining. But before she knew it, she was slowing down again and the familiar interior of the Leaky Cauldron became visible, framed with bright green flames, and she stumbled out, flailing her arms to defy the force that was pushing her forward in an attempt to stand still before she bumped into someone. Heck, I must look stupid.
Eventually, she found herself firmly on both feet again, and she couldn't help feeling a small sense of accomplishment when she looked around the bar in search of the Christophers. Finding Circe waving at her from a small table in the corner, she cheerfully waved back and walked over to join her friend, who was wearing a scandalously short summer dress.
'Welcome back, Miss Look-How-Tanned-My-Legs-Are,' Tonks grinned, dropping gracelessly into the opposite chair. 'Where are your mum and Jason?'
'Off shopping already,' said Circe. 'My mum figured he'd need more supervision than we. Hey, here's what they do in Spain, Tonks!' Leaning across the table, she grabbed her friend's head and firmly kissed her on both cheeks. 'You know, I really think I'm going to live in Spain. My mediterranean roots are calling.'
'Was that really Spanish?' Tonks asked suspiciously, rubbing a finger across her cheek and then studying it intently. 'Seems to me you need more practise. That seductive amount of saliva actually occurs somewhat Italian to me. And there was something very Russian about its position – though it lacked the subtle whiff of alcohol that truly distinguishes the real Russian cheek kiss from the fake one. Besides, I could be mistaken, but I'm pretty convinced you're just as British as I am.'
Circe laughed. 'Rub it in some more, will you.'
'With pleasure. I could force-feed you a pound of garlic-stuffed olives and see what you say then.'
'Do you ladies want to drink anything?' said Tom the landlord, who had appeared beside their table seemingly out of the blue. They both looked up. 'A pumpkin juice, please. With ice,' said Circe. Tom scribbled it down on his little notebook and looked at Tonks. 'And you, young la- er, ma'am?'
'I'd like a Firewhisky,' Tonks said casually, smiling her most wrinkled smile to the landlord, who tried not to look confused at the fact that he'd for a moment mistaken a middle-aged lady for a teenage girl. 'No ice.'
Tom nodded eagerly. 'Comin' right up, ma'am.' Tucking the notebook into his smudgy apron, he left them and disappeared behind the bar to fetch the drinks. Tonks could hear him muttering something to himself that sounded suspiciously like 'purple hair, at her age…'
Meanwhile, Circe was making strange hiccuping noises behind her hand. 'What?' asked Tonks innocently. 'Please behave normally. People will think there's something wrong with you.'
'You look ridiculous!' Circe managed between suppressed giggles.
'At least I don't have to drink pumpkin juice.'
'You cheated.'
'I'll let you have a sip. Promise.'
'Shh! There he comes again.'
'Here you are,' said Tom, putting the drinks on their table. 'That will be eleven Sickles, please.'
'Don't worry about the money, Aunt Nymphadora, I'll pay,' smirked Circe, taking out her purse.
'Thank you, darling. I appreciate that. I'll buy you some icecream later.'
As Circe paid the landlord, Tonks studied the glass of Firewhisky complacently. The liquid had a promising, deep golden colour, and mysterious depths that shimmered with an enticing dark red. Like a wolf's eye, she thought.
'Well,' said Circe as Tom had left again, 'here's to our last year. And to my soon-to-be-established support group Alcoholics Metamorphous.' She raised her glass of pumpkin juice and grinned at her friend. 'You're going to regret this.'
'The wrinkles feel weird,' said Tonks, making faces and pulling at the loose skin under her chin. 'Like my skin'll come off any moment. And I have a… a wattle.'
'Stop whining, Aunt, and drink your whisky.'
'I'm not whining. Imagine the reverse side of the medal: even when I will be fifty I'll be able to look like seventeen.' She picked up the glass of Firewhisky and took a tentative sip. Immediately, the drink that moments before had seemed smooth, delicate and inviting burned down her throat like liquid fire. Tears sprang to her eyes and it took her all the effort in the world to hold back a coughing fit. Circe, however, laughed so hard she almost choked on her pumpkin juice.
Tonks swallowed and blinked the tears away. 'What are you laughing at?' she managed eventually. 'It's really good.'
'Sure, Auntie.'
'And stop calling me Aunt!'
They left the Leaky Cauldron not much later, Tonks a little light in the head and slightly more disoriented than usual. Blinking against the sunlight that flooded the small back alley, she took a deep breath of outside air and felt better immediately, even though it filled her nose with the faint smell of cat piss and decaying waste. She screwed up her face in concentration, at first slightly startled by the odd way parts of her skin seemed to be detached from her muscles, and then, after a short but not unpleasant tingle, suddenly startled again by the disturbing sensation that her skin fitted to her skull so tightly that her jaw and cheekbones were about to burst out of it, and her eyelids were no longer keeping her eyeballs safely in their sockets. As her hands flew to her face in a reflex to stop the disaster from happening, the feeling disappeared as quickly as it had arisen and she realized it had only been the momentary shock of being back to normal. She felt her face apprehensively. No wattle. She smiled.
'Done admiring yourself?' asked Circe. 'Let's go then.' She tapped the wall with her wand and the bricks rearranged themselves to reveal the archway to Diagon Alley. It was bustling with wizards of all ages and styles. Tiny old men in mismatched clothing were advancing purposefully to their respective goals, clutching books or muttering to themselves; yelling, overheated mothers were trying to keep an eye on various children at the same time; small groups of boys were grinning mischievously over some secret item they were showing each other; and teenage couples were wandering around aimlessly, holding hands and dreamily eating icecreams in various shades of pink. Under brightly coloured umbrellas people were sitting, enjoying brightly coloured drinks and chatting to each other cheerfully.
'Let's go to Flourish and Blotts first,' Tonks suggested, 'and then have icecream, and then to the Apothecary for my Potions ingredients, and then have more icecream.'
'You don't want to have icecream before we go get our books as well?'
Tonks considered this for a moment. 'That would be an awful lot of icecream.'
'It would.'
'Tempting.'
'But no.'
'Are you sure?'
'Definitely. Let's go to Flourish and Blotts.'
The book store was crowded with Hogwarts students and their parents, among which the manager was scurrying around, muttering discontentedly about children with sticky fingers and customers who couldn't replace a book where they found it. The Hogwarts section being sorted by year, it didn't take them long to find all the necessary books. They made their way to the counter through the mass of other customers.
'I swear, those first-years are getting smaller every y-' Tonks started, but her sentence ended in a shriek as she slipped on a loose piece of parchment and her leg shot out from under her. In a reflex, she grabbed the nearest person for support, letting go of her pile of books. They dropped to the floor heavily, landing with ominous sounds of cracking leather covers and creasing parchment. Amidst the scattered volumes, Tonks suddenly realized that she was holding on to a total stranger's sleeve and was almost about to let go and go the same way her books did, when the stranger gently grabbed her arm and put her on her feet again.
She didn't find her voice back until several seconds later, when the beating of her heart had subsided a little, and she was able to look up at the stranger and produce a small smile. 'Thanks a lot. I'm so sorry. These things always happen to me.'
The stranger was a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with light brown hair that was greying slightly and friendly, but weary eyes. 'It's allright,' he said, smiling at her. They both leaned down to pick up the fallen books. 'Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts,' he remarked as he dusted off the covers and handed them to her. 'Interesting.'
'I really want to be an Auror,' Tonks said, blushing slightly, but with a defiant edge to her voice at the same time, as if daring the man to laugh at her. But the only thing he did was nod in appreciation. 'A good choice. We can't have enough of those.' He seemed be lost in thought for a moment, then asked, 'Who's teaching DADA at the moment?'
'Don't know. Last year it was Professor Dalrymple, but I heard someone say Professor Quirrell will be coming back.'
'And Severus Snape? Is he still teaching at Hogwarts?'
She looked at him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. 'Yeah, he is. Potions. Seems he'd rather want the DADA job, though. Want me to tell him you said hi?'
The man laughed rather grimly. 'I doubt that would be a good idea. He's never liked me that much.'
'You'd be no exception,' Circe joined in. 'But then, who would actually want to be liked by Snape?' She pulled a disgusted face.
'Well, I, for one, wouldn't mind,' the man said calmly. 'Be careful when you judge others. There's always more to people than meets the eye.'
There was a sudden tension as Circe looked away, obviously not knowing how to reply. The man smiled his tired, friendly smile again, as if to show he'd meant no harm. 'Well, I won't hold you up any longer. Will you be able to make it to the counter without further accidents?'
'I hope so,' said Tonks. 'Thanks again.'
'Who does he think he is?' Circe burst out as soon as they stood outside. 'Lecturing me like that. He doesn't even know me.'
'I don't know,' said Tonks carefully. 'But don't you think he had a point? Technically?'
'I'd like to see him try spending five years with Snape as a teacher. And why didn't you say anything? You hate Snape too.'
'Well,hate is a big word…'
'Dislike him.'
'I don't know. I just tend to ignore him, nowadays. I mean, he's just a rather pitiful person who likes being powerful and in control maybe just a little too much. At least, that's what I think.'
'What are you now? His psychiatrist?'
'No, I was just wondering about him and, well, remember that in our first year we'd use to think he was rather cool and took up everything he said as a challenge to become true Potions prodigies – being the annoying little Ravenclaws that we were – and…'
'Wenever thought Snape was cool,' Circe interrupted her.
'We did, but that doesn't even matter, the point is that, you know, don't you think we're mature enough to try and see a person instead of a greasy git?'
'Not if that person is a greasy git.'
'If anyone has a right to say that, it's me! To you, he was always perfectly civil. Relatively.'
'Why on earth are you defending him?' asked Circe heatedly.
'I'm not!' said Tonks in growing annoyance. She hated fighting with Circe even more than she hated fighting in general – eventually it would always reach a point where she couldn't casually shrug things away anymore, or relieve the situation with a joke, a point where she was forced to speak words that were real and painful, the echo of which would be sounding in her head for a long time afterwards. It was so much easier for Circe. To her, the words she spoke were always real, and would never echo. She forced herself to take a deep breath. 'You're just overreacting. As always. I'm just saying it's maybe a little childish to -'
'Childish! Hear who's talking! Thinking you're so cool for ordering Firewhisky, changing your hair all the time to stupid colours like you're some bloody dress-up doll -'
It had definitely reached that point.
'As opposed to the infinitely mature Circe Christopher, who thinks she's so cool for snogging boys and dressing up like a whore?'
Circe's mouth was a straight line, her eyes were flashing. 'You know, I'm not talking to you anymore. You can shove your icecream up your arse.'
'Fine,' said Tonks, breathing heavily. 'Don't talk to me then. I don't care.'
For one long second, they stared at each other, knowing very well they would eventually be friends again, just as always, but denying that fact at the same time, just as always. Then, Circe Disapparated, leaving Tonks angry and hurt and with nothing more than an empty spot to glare at.
'I wasn't defending him,' she muttered, before stomping off to the Apothecary. 'And purple is not stupid.'
The owl arrived only a couple of hours after she'd come home. Even before she saw the handwriting she knew it'd be from Circe – it always was. Still feeling slightly angry, she unfolded the small piece of parchment. It was a short note.
Dear Tonks,
I'm so sorry. I can't even remember what we were fighting about, really. Guess I was just annoyed by that guy in the bookshop. You were probably right about Snape. I'm not a whore, though, and your hair is not stupid, but I guess we both know that.
Feel like eating lots of icecream in Diagon Alley tomorrow?
Love,
Circe
And then, as she read and reread the note, she felt to her own surprise that tears were welling up in her eyes, and before she knew it she'd dropped the parchment and thrown herself on her bed, where she lay crying for what seemed like a multitude of reasons she didn't even fully understand herself. Maybe the Firewhisky.
a/n. Sorry for the uneventfulness of this chapter. Lots of SnapeTonks action coming up. Really. I promise.
