[summary] TonksFleur (mostly gen, a little hinted attraction) [Jack and the Beanstalk] Tonks is, for all intents and purposes, trapped. Has been for a while. It is pretty safe to say, Tonks feels, that she is not having a particularly good day.

A/N — Written for assignment 7, aquatic studies, task 4: Write about someone being self-conscious about their size

And a massive thank you to Amber for putting up with me and once again beta'ing :D


Tonks is, for all intents and purposes, trapped. Has been for a while. It is pretty safe to say, Tonks feels, that she is not having a particularly good day.

The cage she is in — for it is a cage, even made of found materials and tied together in a way that doesn't seem strong enough to hold her, and yet Tonks is well and truly trapped — is small and cramped and primarily made of driftwood. She tries to stretch her legs a little to ease the cramping, but all it achieves is the creak of strained wood.

"Stop that!" someone shouts, though Tonks is not able to turn her head enough to see who is speaking. Her knees dig into her chin and the bars of the top of the cage dig into her scalp. She's pretty confident that the voice belongs to a woman, though she cannot place the accent. She hasn't descended the stairs overly much, so she isn't at all familiar with this place.

"Just trying to get comfy," she says. Her voice remains cheerful, it usually does, and this only seems to irritate her captor.

"Well, don't," the woman huffs, but she finally steps into Tonks' line of sight. And she's absolutely tiny. Barely tall enough to reach Tonks' knee, if she had to take a guess, and Tonks herself is not particularly tall. She stifles a giggle, not wanting to offend this tiny creature.

"What are you?" she asks the miniature woman, believing this to be a safe question to ask. The anger that lights up the woman's face in response, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing and her cheeks turning a bright pink, leads Tonks to believe she had been mistaken.

"What are you?" the woman snaps.

"I'm a person," Tonks says. "Human." And then, after a brief pause, she adds, "My name's Nymphadora, but no one calls me that. It's Tonks." She squirms in her cage, straining the deceptively strong wooden beams. "I would shake your hand, but I'm a little trapped at the moment." She twists her mouth into what she hopes is a self-depreciating smile.

"I am a human," the woman says, staring at Tonks as if she is the biggest liar she's ever seen. "My name is Fleur," she says in a slightly calmer tone. "And you are my captive until Madame Maxime returns."

.oOo.

"Could I please have some water?" Tonks asks, giving an exaggerated clear of her throat. "I'm a little parched." Fleur continues to ignore her. As she has done for the last few hours.

The sun has almost dipped below the horizon now, and Tonks is beginning to get a little worried. She's already missed dinner, despite promising her mother she would return in time for lunch, and now she's going to miss curfew, too. The ladder will be raised, as it is every night, and Tonks will be unable to return home until morning.

Her stomach rumbles, reminding her painfully of her two missed meals. "Do you have any snacky bits?" she asks hopefully.

Fleur finally acknowledges her with an incredulous stare. "You're not very good at this whole captive thing, are you?" she asks.

"I just think it's polite to feed your guests, is all," Tonks says in as reasonable a tone as she can manage, trying to dampen her bright smile — her mother has said it's a mischievous smile, and Tonks does not wish to come across as mischievous when she's just trying to get a drink and a snack. Hopefully biscuits, she thinks, tea and biscuits would be lovely right about now.

Fleur stands there, still staring at Tonks as if she is the strangest creature Fleur has ever laid her eyes upon, opening and closing her mouth seemingly at a loss for words. Eventually she settles on, "You are not my guest! You are my prisoner!"

"Yes, yes, we've been through this," Tonks says, trying to wave her hand in dismissal but only achieving a sharp twinge in her shoulder muscle. "Could I trouble you for some tea and biscuits?"

Fleur's expression hardens, and she pulls a rope attached to something above Tonks' cage.

A sheet drops over the wooden bars with a soft fwump, shrouding Tonks in darkness.

"Well that wasn't very friendly," Tonks says. She receives no indication Fleur has even heard her. "A torch would be nice," she adds.

There is the distinct sound of a door slamming, though even before the sheet Tonks hadn't been able to turn her head enough to guess at where the door might lead.

"Have you gone?" Tonks calls. Still no response. "Hello?" She waits another moment. "I can't see anything," she shouts, adding, "could you remove the sheet, please?" because her mother has always told her that manners are everything.

When even that doesn't earn her a response, Tonks mutters an irritated, "Balls," under her breath and tries to make herself more comfortable, settling in to wait for this Madame Maxime.

.oOo.

Tonks awakes with a very undignified snort, but she thinks it is somewhat justified as she was awoken by a foot kicking her in the ribs. It hadn't hurt overly much, more an irritant than anything, but still. Not a particularly nice way to wake up, in Tonks' opinion.

"Wha- d'you wan'," Tonks mumbles, a wooden slat digging into her cheek and slurring her words. She tries to sit up, to stretch, but her movements are hindered.

Oh, that's right, she realises, she's been captured for unknown purposes. She would assume the purposes are nefarious in origin because, although Fleur has given her no indication as to why she has placed Tonks into a cage, it is usually not a thing people do to one another with good intentions.

Still, Tonks can only hope for the best.

"Morning," she says with as much cheer as she can muster given her current predicament. "Don't suppose we could revisit that water request?"

"I told you," Fleur says, and it comes out almost like a whine, as if she's speaking to a parent who has criticised her for lying and it has later come to light that she was speaking the truth. "It's unreasonably cheerful. It must know something we don't."

"Now, I don't know what's with all this 'it' business," Tonks says indignantly. "You know my name, we talked about this yesterday."

"You were talking with the giant!?" The woman with Fleur scolds her, and Tonks is beginning to think that something very bad might be afoot.

This new woman is considerably taller than Fleur, twice her size perhaps, and probably would reach up to Tonks' waist. If Tonks were a regular sized giant, that would have been more impressive, but it's still an indication that there is something not entirely human lurking in the woman's blood.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Tonks says. "Who in your family was a giant, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Silence," the woman snaps at Tonks before turning to Fleur. The anger does not leave her face, the steel does not leave her voice, as she says, "You should not be allowing this creature to speak, let along conversing with it."

"Hey, now, that's a bit rude!" Tonks says; her mother had ensured Tonks knew the importance of manners from quite a young age, and whilst she may not always execute those skills, even Tonks would not be so rude to a person she had trapped in a cage. Though really, Tonks thinks she would probably be quite unlikely to ever trap someone in a cage in the first place, so perhaps expecting manners from this person was somewhat wishful thinking.

"I'm sorry, Madame Maxime," Fleur says, her head bowed in supplication as she performs a deep curtsey. Which, really, a curtsey? A bit outdated, in Tonks' humble opinion. But there is worry and fear mixed together in equal measure on the girl's face and so, for her sake more than the woman's, Tonks remains silent. It is not something she's particularly adept at.

Madame Maxime leaves, storming off in a huff that she manages to make look strangely dignified, and disappearing up the steps into a giant gilded carriage. Giant, of course, in the human sense, for it would not fit an actual giant.

Tonks expects the carriage to leave as soon as the door is closed, but it does not. Instead, the horses graze calmly at the head of the carriage, eating … "Is that steak?" Tonks can't help but ask, her stomach letting out a loud rumble at the mere thought. "D'you have any left?" Her mouth is already salivating as she imagines the taste; steak is not a food Tonks is particularly fond of, but she hasn't eaten anything in hours and she's starving. It might even have been a full day by now, Tonks realises, and she has never gone a full day without food.

"It's not for you," Fleur snaps, a glower twisting her admittedly beautiful features into something nasty. She turns her back on Tonks' cage, folds her arms over her chest, and stares out at the barren fields as if guarding Tonks from something. Or perhaps guarding something from Tonks.

Given her current predicament, Tonks assumes the latter is more likely.

.oOo.

"Stop humming!" Fleur snaps irritably, and Tonks ends her tune with a noise of vague upset.

"I'm bored," she whines, tipping her head back until her skull hits the wooden bars behind her; she doesn't have to move much. "D'you want to play I-Spy?"

Fleur stares at her incredulously, her expression a mixture of are-you-insane and why-am-I-the-one-who-has-to-deal-with-you? It's an expression Tonks thought her mother had the sole rights to, and it's strange seeing it on this near-stranger's face. "No," Fleur says, enunciating each word carefully, "I do not want to play I-Spy with you."

Tonks shifts in an attempt to get more comfortable. She is not successful. "How about Never Have I Ever?" she asks. "Would You Rather?"

"Would you rather shut up yourself, or have me make you shut up?" Fleur snaps, glaring at Tonks with another expression that would not look out of place on her mother's face.

"Oh, that's a good one," Tonks says, pausing for a moment to think it through. If she were to shut up of her own accord, that's it, game over. But if Fleur were to make her … "I choose you making me shut up!" she declares, a proud smile twisting up the corners of her mouth.

Fleur huffs in irritation, turning her back on Tonks and folding her arms across her chest. Tonks is getting quite familiar with this reaction from her.

"Now, would you rather get me a glass of water, or I continue talking?" Tonks asks after careful consideration.

Fleur makes another of her irritated noises — she appears to have an entire arsenal of them, and Tonks is not above trying to hear every single one — and storms off into the gilded carriage.

"That's not very sportsmanlike of you!" Tonks calls after her retreating form, but receives no response.

She isn't surprised, really. A bit disappointed, yes, but not surprised.

.oOo.

Tonks splutters, the cold water hitting her square in the face and taking her completely by surprise.

"I got your water," Fleur says with a smirk.

Tonks clears her throat. "Thank you," she says, lips pursed. "I needed a shower."

"How are you so irritatingly optimistic?" Fleur snaps. "You are trapped in a cage."

"Yes," Tonks says, keeping her tone as calm as possible. "I had noticed. And thank you very much for that, too."

Fleur sighs, and hands Tonks a glass of water. Well, more of a bucket, really. No, it's clearly a bucket. The wooden kind held together with metal bands. It's still incredibly tiny by Tonks' standards — she is, after all, a giant — but she is grateful nonetheless. She utters a sincere, "Thank you," and gently takes the bucket from Fleur, downing the water in a single swallow before handing it back to Fleur.

She's still thirsty, but she doesn't want to push her luck and ask for some more. Fleur is being far more generous than she strictly needs to be. Humans don't consider giants sentient beings, classifying them as monsters instead. This is something Tonks had known upon entering the human lands, but still. Tonks had a habit of finding trouble, wherever she was, regardless of whether or not there were humans around.

Fleur hands her back the bucket. It's full again, though Tonks hadn't seen her refill it.

"I — Thank you," Tonks says quietly. For quite possibly the first time in her life, Tonks is completely and utterly lost for words.

That doesn't stop her from drinking the second bucket of water, though. Nor the third, when Fleur refills is yet again, or the fourth or fifth.

Once her tongue no longer feels like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth, Tonks finally stops drinking. She has lost count of the amount of times Fleur has refilled the bucket, but the girl didn't seem to mind. If anything, a somewhat concerned expression had slid across her features, seemingly against Fleur's will.

"Y'know," Tonks says, feeling much more like herself now, "I think secretly you're really nice."

Fleur makes a scoffing noise that sounds like it originates in the back of her throat and rolls towards the front of her mouth, but for once she doesn't turn away.

"What would you do if I let you out?" she asks, head tipped quizzically to one side.

"I'd go home, probably," she says.

This doesn't seem to be quite the answer Fleur was expecting, but she doesn't say anything further. And, for once, Tonks also remains silent.

.oOo.

When Tonks wakes from her nap, there is a very tiny body leant against one of the bars of her cage, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head resting in her hands.

"Hello," Tonks says through a yawn.

Fleur doesn't raise her head to look at Tonks, doesn't even move, but she does ask, "How are you always so irritatingly optimistic?" This time, she asks the question sounding almost resigned, but there is perhaps a bit of curiosity in her tone.

Tonks attempts a shrug, but is quickly reminded of how little room she has for movement, and anyway, Fleur wouldn't have been able to see it. "I just have a generally sunny disposition, I guess," she says. It is something her mother has always said, though she isn't quite sure what it means exactly. It sounds nice, though, like something to be proud of, and so Tonks is.

"Where do you live?" Tonks would be surprised at the sudden change of topic if she were anyone else, so it is lucky for Fleur that Tonks is such an easy-going go-with-the-flow kind of person.

"With my mum and dad," she says. "We have a little cottage in the village." Realising that isn't terribly specific, Tonks adds, "Hogsmeade village."

"And how do you get there?" Fleur asks.

"You want directions?" Tonks can't help the laugh that escapes from her lips, but instantly she realises that might have been a bit rude of her. "You wouldn't be able to climb the stairs."

"Because you'd need giants' magic," Fleur says seriously. And this time, Tonks laughs loud and unashamedly.

"No," she says when she has finally reduced her laughter to only the occasional giggle. "It's because the stairs are made for giants. You're too small to climb them."

Fleur seems to sink further in on herself, disappointed, though Tonks cannot fathom why. What could a human possible want in her land?

"What were you expecting?" she asks. "Magic beans?" Perhaps it is simply the lack of whimsy that has Fleur disappointed, but then again, she's not struck Tonks as a particularly whimsical-loving person.

"Stairs seem a bit …" here Fleur hesitates, perhaps searching for the answer least likely to offend, Tonks does not know her well enough to presume. "Ordinary," she finishes.

"Oh, not these stairs," Tonks says in her most conspiratorial tone, the tone that usually indicated mischief was about to be had. "These stairs are anything but ordinary."

Fleur listens, enraptured, about tales of staircases built of light and shadow that move at their own whim, that never lead to the same place twice. Tonks isn't sure if Fleur believes her, but it is nice to have such a captivated audience. It reminds her of the little children who would follow Tonks, begging for tales of excitement and adventure, of mischief and pranks.

It is refreshing, Tonks thinks, to have this small reminder of home.

.oOo.

A hard kick to the wooden bar nearest Tonks' head jolts her awake from her nap, and she glares through sleep-blurred eyes at an entirely unrepentant Fleur.

"Tell me about your home," Fleur says, as if it is her right to have this knowledge, that Tonks telling this tale is a given. Well, it is lucky for Fleur that Tonks enjoys talking.

"Well," Tonks says, "I live in a delightful little cottage with my mum and dad. And the cat," Tonks says, closing her eyes and allowing the memories to play out behind her eyelids. "She's tiny," though she would probably be taller than Fleur, a thought Tonks finds amusing, "and fluffy. She's got little white patches on her paws and nose and belly, but the rest of her is bright orange. She's an angry little thing," Tonks says fondly. "Her name's Cleopawtra."

Fleur rolls her eyes at the pun, but she seems strangely captivated. Though, Tonks reasons, Cleopawtra is a lovely cat. A bit bitey, but lovely nonetheless.

"Does it rain?" Fleur asks. "I've always loved the rain."

"I suppose we have weather," Tonks says, thinking over her words carefully. "Though not quite as you know it to be." She settles back against the bars, pushing her shoulders back until the pop. "Lightning storms are my favourite," she says once she is as comfortable as she can be. "The way the thunder ripples through the ground, the way the lightning lights up everything beneath our feet."

She shifts again. A particularly painful tweak in her shoulder shudders through her back, and something must register on her face because Fleur is looking at her with concern.

"I know the cage is not ideal —"

Tonks cannot help but scoff at this.

Fleur sighs, and tries again. "I know the cage is barbaric," she says. "You were trespassing and must have stumbled upon a dragon trap."

"Made of wood?"

"It is reinforced," Fleur says defensively.

"With what? More wood?" A distant part of Tonks is aware she is being rude, but being that she is the one currently trapped in a cage she feels it's justified.

"Magic," Fleur says simpy, as though the answer was obvious and Tonks is being particularly dimwitted in not having realised.

"Magic?" Tonks repeats dumbly.

"Yes," Fleur says, "Magic."

There is a pause then, one that feels strangely awkward, as if they are both unsure of the other but remain unhostile.

"Care to elaborate?" Tonks ask.

"I am a witch."

"Don't say such things about yourself!" It's been a long time since Tonks had been so shocked by someone as she is by Fleur. She says such horrible things about herself so calmly, and yet everything about her appearance and bearing shows a woman who takes pride in herself.

"Why not, if it is true?" Fleur seems genuinely puzzled, which only serves to baffle Tonks further.

"You have magic?" Tonks hadn't meant to sound quite so sceptical, but the words were out now, and if she could take them back she'd only wind up repeating a watered down version of the same thing. "But you're so tiny," she says, "where do you keep it all?"

Fleur gives Tonks a look that manages to say, "You're an absolute idiot," and, "That's a horrendously rude thing to say," and, "I'm somewhat concerned for the state of your mental faculties," all at once. It is not a look Tonks particularly cares for.

"Well, where do you keep it?" she asks defensively. It was not a stupid question, she reasons to herself. Where does such a tiny creature keep any magic, let alone enough to capture a dragon? Though it is entirely possible Fleur had been exaggerating or outright lying —

Fleur points a twig at Tonks as if it were a threat. A twig!

Tonks' nose crinkles in the beginning of a laugh — she doesn't want to be rude, but a twig!? — but before she can utter another sound, there is a loud bang as the walls of the cage hit the ground.

It looks as if a child has just pulled a string and collapsed the entire thing, as if it had never been sturdy in the first place when Tonks is positive it had been. Maybe? Maybe she's losing her mind. Or, maybe …

"Do it again," she says. She has not moved, not yet trusting her newfound freedom.

"You want me to … re-release you?" Fleur asks, her tone is a mixture of scepticism and mild concern that has Tonks blushing.

"No," Tonks says with a little more aggression than she had intended. "I'm sorry," she says in a hopefully more reasonable tone, and she pushes her palms flat into the dirt field behind her, raising herself unsteadily to her feet.

Pins and needles shoot through her entire body, her legs entirely numb and her arms not much better. She stretches until she feels her spine pop, letting out a groan of utter relief.

Once Tonks has finished stretching, a process which takes a good five minutes, and is starting to feel a bit more like herself, she says, "Thanks for your hospitality, but I'd best be off. I'm probably grounded by now."

"Wait!" Fleur reaches out, as if such a tiny person could have any chance of halting a giant, albeit a rather small one. "Take me with you," Fleur asks. Her voice is small, vulnerable, and Tonks cannot even begin to imagine what Fleur would want in the land of giants. But, she supposes, it might be fun to find out.

"Sure," Tonks says, her lips twisting up into a mischievous smirk, "but you're explaining to my mother where I've been."