TITLE: Musings
AUTHOR: Minttown1/Amber.
RATING: PG.
SPOILERS: None.
PAIRING: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody / Nymphadora Tonks
SUMMARY: A moment and some musing. Fluff.
ARCHIVAL: Just ask.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I profit in no way.
NOTES: For the "First Lines" challenge at livejournal's 30minutefics community, hence the fairly short length. Pure fluff, but I decided to post it in case someone may secretly not always want angst.
~*~
As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. 12 Grimmauld Place followed suit, as houses often due when the weather changes.
Nymphadora Tonks had developed a habit of navigating the kitchen in her coat, an arrangement that, combined with her clumsy nature, tended to cause situations that were considered catastrophes.
Well, only one person ever used that word, catastrophe, but he was the loudest member of the household somehow, in spite of never speaking above a whisper, and her usual response was "Mad-Eye, shut up!" and he would continue to grumble over an Auror who could wake the dead just trying to walk, never mind an adult who could barely cook for herself. "Then be thankful that you're not my husband and that you'll be rid of me eventually. And shut up."
He stared at her for a moment, if anything done with only one eye can be called a stare. "You'd actually make me a good wife," he remarked, and she was too angry to laugh at the absurdity of the statement.
"What?" she responded instead.
"Nothing, just that you're trustworthy."
This time she did laugh. "'Trustworthy'? Coming from you, that's rare praise."
"Not praise. Truth. Albus Dumbledore hand-picked you from a number of recommended persons."
"Because I'm a Metamorphmagus."
"Maybe." His bachelorhood was expected for a number of reasons, and she added his complete inability to say what a woman wanted to hear to the list. "But you're still trustworthy. You wouldn't be here if you weren't."
Somehow, she resisted the urge to counter his comment with Severus Snape, who may have been entirely trustworthy in Dumbledore's eyes but who had yet to earn Mad-Eye's respect. She also was kind enough not to say anything along the lines of, 'Wow, Alastor, Dumbledore really is great at reading people, so great that he didn't even realize that you weren't really you for an entire year.' She found it inconceivable that anyone would mistake a Death Eater, Polyjuice or no, for Alastor Moody, but it was hardly her place to comment, and even she viewed Albus Dumbledore in a rarely questioned position of respect.
Instead, she grinned at him and said, "I'd make you a terrible wife. I'm stubborn, I wear coats in the kitchen, I don't cook, I don't clean, and this hair, just imagine what people would say if they saw us in public together."
"'Young people these days, disgraceful.'"
"Yep." She laughed, then stopped, asked, "Or were you speaking for yourself there?"
"No, no." He regarded her for a moment, then walked away toward the stairs. "Clean that mess!" he called back to her.
She did, cleaning with a broom and dustpan what his wand could have handled in seconds had its bearer been willing. It was okay, though, she decided, laughing. It was good practice, just in case.