this is just the introduction to the story, but please read it, otherwise the rest won't make sense. xD
all characters and basic plot copyright JK Rowling, an amazing author.
"Oh- what? Dammit. Alright, butterbeer then." a woman sighed in disappointment and half-heartedly retrieved a grimy glass bottle from a counter. She didn't know why she was here. And quite honestly, she could not remember when she had decided to enter the Hog's Head pub. On any account, she was glad that she had ended up in the quiet and deserted Hog's Head and not the popular Three Broomsticks, where couples and friends talked and laughed and drunk, unaware of the complete heartbreak Nymphadora Tonks was going through. Tonks did not need to be reminded of the many times she and Kingsley or Dawlish (or, once, Mrs. Weasley, who had then insisted upon a witch's night out in Hogsmeade) had enjoyed a firewhiskey and a laugh or too in the Three Broomsticks. To remember how it felt before… well, before this had happened… was pain, pain with no relief.
The mousy-haired witch sidled over to the table farthest away from any life forms (well, thought Tonks smugly, unless you count those sugar packets, jumping up and down and purring to each other), a round wooden table squeezed into the farthest corner beside a rickety old stool. She sat with her forehead touching the table and her arms folded awkwardly in front of her head and struggled to remember what had happened only a few moments before.
She had been on duty, guarding Hogsmeade, dizzy with a slight hangover, when Dawlish… Dawlish? Yes, she was sure it had been him… had clamped a hand on her shoulder and told her that her break time had finally arrived. Her heart, hungry to drown its problems in alcohol, had forced her barely conscious body to step into the Hog's Head for a fire whiskey, (oh god, had she really plowed into the counter and knocked over that glass? Tonks banged her head on the table as a weak punishment) only to be informed that all the fire whiskey in the shop had been bought by the witch in the opposite corner who was now nursing what seemed to be a mutated tortoise with a bottle of it. Tonks thought of Rubeus Hagrid, who would be quite inclined to do the same thing, and snorted into her butterbeer.
It felt foreign to laugh. Tonks hadn't genuinely laughed in two months or so, although she had forced giggles when Hermione or Ginny tried to make it so during her visits to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had been very kind, ladling out endless bowls of onion soup and comforting her… oh, shit, she was thinking about him again… her mind protested, but her heart didn't listen. She saw him, smiling a big, broad grin, happy and loving. The few stray gray hairs that peppered his tidy head of blondish hair made Tonks melt… she couldn't stand it, she loved him, she needed him…
Tonks felt something sticky on her neck, and upon rubbing it, she discovered that the butterbeer that she had laughed into had dribbled down her chin and dried, unnoticed by the sweaty, crumpled napkin Tonks was clutching tightly in her left fist. She sighed for the second time that morning and drew her wand. "Scourgify," she mumbled, and exited the pub, smiling and nodding politely when Savage asked her if she was alright.
i know, positively wonderful. ;33 a bit boring, eh? well, i needed to give a teeny bit of background. reviews would be awesome! thanks!