A/N: This fic is the follow up work to my first metamorphicmoon advent piece Mistletoe and was written to the prompts "pyjamas" and inclusion of a wizardised Christmas carol. I hope you enjoy!
My True Love Gave to Me….
There was no doubt left in Nymphadora Tonks' mind. She was going to kill Sirius Black.
"…My true love sent to me….Twelve toads-a-leaping, eleven veelas dancing…"
It would be a lingering death, preferably involving a large clamp, three tonnes of fish paste and a rabid penguin. Not that she was fussy.
"… ten puffskeins puffing, nine goblins gobbling…"
There had to be something she could use. Somewhere in this grim old room filled with musty old cloth and iron wrought furniture, there had to be something sturdy enough to wrap around that bloody clacking beak without it getting torn to shreds. Beating it over the head with the iron poker had only succeeded in giving the stuffed vulture that sat beside the fusty old four poster bed a rather surprised expression and she had been forced to conclude that whatever manner of charm work her cousin had used to make it sing was resistant to the endeavours of violence.
She needed a gag. But without ripping down the frankly moth-eaten curtains that shrouded the bed, what was there?
There was her long stripy scarf of course, the one she had worn as she walked cheerfully though the brightly-lit muggle streets to reach Grimmauld Place. But it was a personal favourite; she was loath to sacrifice it to the tender ministrations of a singing vulture, especially after Remus had commented on how cosy it looked while they were shopping in Diagon Alley…
Remus.
The look of shock and horror on his face as he stared at the mistletoe and then at her. The stammering excuses as he fled…
"...eight snitches darting, seven mermaids swimming, six owls-a-flying…"
Oh that bloody vulture!
Only Sirius Black would see a hideous, balding stuffed vulture with manky feathers and a twisted beak and charm it to sing The Twelve Beasts of Christmas to anyone who entered the room. And now it wouldn't shut up! Git!
Well he was going to die for this. Maybe the penguin was a little extreme but one thing was for sure. She was going to stuff that bloody vulture right up his…
"…five phoeeeeenix songs!"
A chest loomed in a shadowy corner, plunging its hard metal corner into her shin. Swearing as she hopped on one foot, Tonks took a moment to deliver an appropriately venomous glare at the offending object before she grasped the lid firmly and yanked it open.
The kindest word for the contents was jumble. Several sets of quietly decaying robes, a thoroughly bent wizard's hat and…
Perfect!
"Four barking crups, three house elves, two dragon's eggs and a hippogriff in a bare trmmph!"
Silence. Blessed, blessed silence.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Tonks took a slow step back to admire her handiwork. The ancient lacy pyjamas she had dragged out of the old chest had done the trick, the top half jammed into the vulture's beak and secured tightly by repeated knotting of the legs. The beak continued to work irritably from within its odd restraints but the song, thanks be to Merlin, had been stifled.
With a puff of breath, Tonks allowed herself to collapse in a heap on the bed, rubbing her shin and muttering rude remarks about her cousin's parentage. What a ruddy hellish evening she was having…
But she'd had no choice, not really. She'd had to come to Grimmauld Place. It had been here or a soiree at her parents house involving mince pies, mulled wine and being ushered into the company of Jolyon Sneed of Which Broomstick magazine, who was, to use severe understatement, slightly less bearable and engaging than a stuffed vulture singing The Twelve Beasts of Christmas. Tonks liked Quidditch. She liked to fly. But she had been happy enough in life without knowing about the intricate process of twig selection or the art of double polishing for that little extra oomph and that was all Jolyon Sneed knew how to talk about.
She was doing Sneed a favour really. If she'd attended the party, she'd have been forced to kill him for the sake of her sanity and her mother always frowned on people who made a mess on her carpets.
Just as her mother frowned on daughters who avoided their social engagements. If Tonks had stayed home, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that her mother's face would have appeared in the fireplace at some point during the evening, checking on her alibi that she was out on a prearranged jaunt with friends. Andromeda Tonks knew all too well when her daughter was spinning a line.
When trying to escape a daughter of the House of Black who was determined to feed you mince pies and marry you off to the dullest man alive, an unplottable, Fidelius-charmed house was really the only way to go.
It had seemed a good idea. At the time.
Until…
Remus.
Her heart twisted in spite of herself. She'd seen the twins coming, of course, mistletoe in hand and mischief in their eyes and when she'd realised that she and Remus were their target, she had felt her stomach turn over with an alarming lurch. Did she want them to come, to force the matter, to bring it out into the open once and for all? Did he?
What would she do? What would he do?
It felt as though he'd been her friend forever, cheering her when she was down, making her laugh and laughing in his turn, supporting her on missions, advising her, chatting with her, just being there; she'd known him for perhaps six months and already she couldn't imagine her life without him. When had the thought that they could be more than friends slipped into her mind? She wasn't sure but it had and it had lingered with persistence. How long had it been since she had started to imagine his arms around her, his lips warm against hers? How long had she dared to consider the idea, to start hunting for signs that he might feel the same?
She'd never dared to say a word. She would not risk damaging their friendship. Not unless she was sure.
And now mistletoe.
Surely this would tell her all that she needed to know. The touch of his lips – would it be a friendly peck or a true need just like hers?
Now she would know.
But it hadn't happened. He hadn't kissed her.
He'd stared at the mistletoe. He'd stared at her. And then he'd mumbled some inaudible excuse and fled the room as though scalded.
Well, you wanted to know. Didn't you? And now you do.
He'd rather run away than kiss you. This man who makes the peace, who would never offend on purpose. And he fled.
He finds you that repellent.
Almost as soon as the word crossed her mind, she had tried to fling it away but it lodged and stuck, refusing to budge. But what else could it be? Why else would he flee the room rather than kiss her? Even in jest or the spirit of fun, could he not have mustered something?
"Mmph mmphmmphmmphmmph, Mmphph mmphmmphmmphmmph, Mmph mmphmmphmmphmmph…"
Her eyes flickered to the muffled vulture, chewing inexorably on its lacy pyjama gag in an effort to instil some Christmas cheer. Tonks fought down the urge to draw her wand and blast it.
"Oh shut up," she muttered savagely. "You'll be singing a different tune next time I see Sirius. Wait 'til you see where you're going…."
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! All she had wanted was to escape from the merry Christmas laughter downstairs, to get away from the happy smiling faces that had no idea how her heart was aching, no idea of the pain and humiliation bubbling inside her mind. She come to this room to get away. And what did she find?
A stuffed bloody vulture that wouldn't shut up about what its true love gave to it!
Her eyes fixed upon the pyjama bound culprit. Sirius was probably in his room by now. Perhaps it was time for an early Christmas present…
Rising swiftly to her feet, Tonks ignored the brief stumble as her feet tangled with the rug and snatched the offending vulture, perch and all, down off the mantelpiece. Ignoring the unpleasant odour of mothballs and old feathers, she grasped the singing menace firmly beneath one arm and marched towards the door. Snatching the handle with her free hand, she yanked it open.
And walked headfirst into Remus Lupin.
Tonks caught a brief glimpse of his hand, half-raised as though to knock, of his shocked expression and his fearful eyes; but then there was no more time to think or look as wizard, witch and vulture went tumbling in a flurry of robes, feathers and lacy pyjamas onto the hard wooden floor of the landing. The Auror heard Remus omit a pained oof of surprise as she plunged, elbows first into his stomach, the stuffed vulture flying from her grip as her knees jarred against the floor and her head struck the tumbling wooden perch with a smack. For a moment, she could do nothing but lie breathless and gasping, half-sprawled across the warm but rather bony body with which she had collided.
"Ow," she managed.
"Ummm…Tonks?"
There was a note to Remus' voice that made Tonks suspect that opening her eyes would not bring glad tidings of great joy. But nonetheless she risked it.
Remus lay flat against the floor, pinned beneath her body and eyeball to eyeball with a stuffed vulture wrapped in lacy pyjamas. The expression of his face defied description.
"Do you think you could remove your friend?" Even though Tonks was sure that nothing in his life could have prepared Remus for the situation in which he currently found himself, the former professor's voice remained impressively calm. "He looks rather hungry to me and if it's all the same, I do rather value my eyeballs."
The flurry of awkward activity that followed left Remus nursing another elbow-inflicted blow to the stomach but somehow, both participants in their odd little accident managed to clamber into a seated position. The bound up vulture sat perched between them, beak working, pyjamas straining against its valiant battle to issue Christmas cheer.
"Mmph mmphmmphmmphmmph, Mmph Mmmmmmmmph Mmph!"
Remus' eyes lingered on the strange sight. "Dare I ask?" he ventured.
Tonks pulled a face. "Sirius."
"Ah." Further explanation was unnecessary. Rubbing his head awkwardly, his eyes drifted up to meet hers. "I'm sorry about this, Tonks. It's my fault, I shouldn't have just been standing there outside your door. If I'd actually had the courage to knock…"
The hollow drop of her stomach had nothing to do with their tumble. "You were coming to see me?"
His gaze dropped floor-wards once more as he uncomfortably worked one bruised arm. The second of silence seemed to last for twelve eternites.
"Yes. I was." There was a strange note to his voice, a whisper of resolve, a shudder of…what? Nervousness? Fear? Anticipation? His eyes rose abruptly, meeting hers once more. "I was coming to apologise. For the mistletoe." He swallowed hard. "For leaving you there like that. It was unforgivably rude of me and I…" His voice seemed to trail away. "I'm sorry," he managed at length. "The last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt your feelings."
Well you did. The words skimmed through her mind before she could dismiss them and it seemed for an instant as though he read them in her eyes; his cheeks flushed and he tore his eyes away once more.
"I…" He swallowed a deep gulp of air. "It's just… I wanted you to understand why I didn't kiss you. Why I couldn't."
It was all she could do not to leap to her feet, not to flee from his sight as he had fled from hers and slam the door behind her. I don't want you to say that you can't love me. I don't want my last shred of hope to be ripped away! I don't want to be told that friendship is all we'll ever have because being your friend and no more is eating me alive!
I don't want to know. I don't want to hear.
But she couldn't move. And Remus was still speaking.
"…it just wasn't right." What had she missed? What had she drowned out? Remus was staring at his lap, fingerings twisting awkwardly around the silky material of the dangling pyjama leg. She'd never seen him look so uncomfortable. "With the children gawping and everyone looking and laughing and whistling – it would have been more of a pantomime than a first kiss. And that wasn't what I wanted. Not with you." Finally, his eyes rose. "Because when I kiss you for the first time, I want it to be special. I want it to be a moment that's just for us. And I think that you do too."
Don't want to hear, don't want to hear, don't want to… what?
Did he just say…?
She met his eyes. They filled her world.
And they whispered… they said…
Oh sweet Merlin.
"I do." The words had passed her lips before she was even aware that she'd spoken. "I really do."
His face seemed so close. She could see nothing but his eyes, smell nothing but his skin, feel the gentle rush of his breath against her cheek as her eyes slipped closed…
RRRRRRRRRIP!
"Eight snitches darting, seven mermaids swimming, six owls-a-flying, five phooooenix songs! Four barking krups, three house elves, two dragon's eggs and a hippogriff in a baaaaaare treeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Something lacy smacked against her nose. Tonks opened her eyes onto a hazy veil of very torn pyjama.
Long fingers reached down, plucking the material away from her face as the vulture resumed its infuriating litany once more. Remus blessed her with a smile tinged with both amusement and disappointment.
"I think the moment may have passed," he remarked ruefully as he untangled a piece of lace from his dishevelled hair. "I'm not sure this is quite the serenade either of us had in mind."
I'm going to kill Sirius Black." Never had the words passed Tonks' lips with more feeling. "And not quickly. Lingeringly."
An odd look flickered over Remus' face but it was gone before she could register its meaning, replaced by a suddenly wicked smile. "Would you like a hand?" Leaning against the wall, he hauled himself to his feet, offering her his hand as he did so. "And I don't just mean in getting up."
Tonks accepted the assistance with a wry grin. "I don't see why not. But I have one condition."
"Name it."
Tonks hefted the singing vulture, smiling against the sudden warmth she held for the blasted thing. "That sometime soon, away from mistletoe and vultures and Sirius Black, we'll find the right time to finish what we just tried to start. A private time. A special time. Because that's what I want to."
His smile lit up her world. "On that you have my word."
"Good. Now." Tonks ruffled the feathers on her Christmas songbird. "What are we going to do with this?"
It was around six in the morning and in a state of some desperation that Sirius Black discovered a stuffed vulture cheerfully singing The Twelve Beasts of Christmas had been shoved quite firmly down his toilet bowl. But in spite of the fact it resulted in the emergency use of a very old chamber pot he found under the bed, it nonetheless made him smile.
It wouldn't be long now. He was sure of it.
And as he headed back to bed, he couldn't resist the urge for a quiet little sing.
"On a night close to Christmas, two true loves gave to me, a stuffed vulture needing a pee…"
A/N: I feel at this point I ought to take the opportunity to thank everyone who has been reviewing this fic collection – if I had time, I would have responded to you all personally, but alas I don't. Rest assured though, I read and appreciate every one. So many thanks to: PaulaS, MollyCoddles, TheGoldenSeraphim, Robin, purebristles, Krumfan, thee-unknown-factor, TheJazz, Bardlover, MissLinusthePenguin, JennyJoy4, Kailin, elka78, ishandtwofourths,xtotallyatpeacex, MooNi13, Fireowlies, Helena Valentine, RubyLinkle, Aloha, elfree, Qymaen jai Sheelal, remusROXmySOX, RahNee, Klappa, Phoenixtear19, NaginiFay, The Allknowing Tonks, sexyface, Kileaiya, GothicCotton, siriuslycoco, Paloma, EriksDiva, morgan, InsaneMonkeePirate, Harmony'sSake, Invaderk, Lady ot Rings, Mirax Corran, Library Kat, Susan D, Lupin123, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, Lily Knotwise, E Patronum, Gilpin, Keryymdb, Sarahrules336, alix33, honeymufins, Slim Shady, calenmarwen, mbali, Cestari, Ward, martyjeannine, magical trever, Karma-K2, Javoher and Wake Up! :) I don't think I've missed anyone but if I have, I offer profuse apologies. :)