Strangeways, Here We Come

Pyjamas…

He had never thought it possible, but insomnia had its benefits – namely running into one Nymphadora Tonks in the Grimmauld Place kitchen during the middle of the night. The first incident had been due to him exercising constant vigilance, investigating the sound of glass shattering; he should have known it would be an endearingly clumsy Auror craving a midnight cocoa before she went to bed. They shared a whispered discussion over steaming mugs (because somehow it just seemed necessary to whisper during the wee hours, even though nobody upstairs could possibly hear them), and after that he had actually managed to fall asleep quite easily.

It quickly became a regular occurrence, their drinks and dialogue occurring whenever she stayed over. He always looked forward to it, but if his denials and rationalizations were stripped away, he ashamedly had to admit that having a droll conversation partner wasn't the only reason for that. What kept luring him back (despite his logical side warning him off) were her pyjamas.

She had so many different ensembles that it boggled the mind. While he always wore the same threadbare blue flannels (they certainly were comfortable though), she had stripes and polka dots and patterns of brooms and rabbits… Sometimes they were matching sets, sometimes they were oversized pullovers thrown on top of sweatpants; it didn't matter, because they all made her look adorable. …And made him feel rather like a lecherous old man. Every time he descended the stairs he wondered what she would be wearing that night, and chastised himself for it.

The situation grew even worse (or better, depending on which voice in his head he was listening to – his conscience or his lust) when there came a bout of unusually scorching weather, prompting Tonks to don low-cut camisoles and tiny shorts. He shouldn't have asked her about it, because it probably alerted her to the fact that he was indeed ogling her shamelessly, but he honestly couldn't prompt his mind to come up with anything else – it was far too distracted by her beguiling sleepwear.

"Nymphadora, why on earth do you have so many different pairs of pyjamas?" he wondered.

"Don't rightly know," she smiled and shrugged, obviously not finding the question too peculiar. "No real reason, I suppose… Every time I go shopping something else strikes my fancy and I end up buying it, and why not switch them up every so often?"

That was probably the philosophy she applied to her hair colour as well, he mused.

"But I honestly don't think I have too many," she continued, getting up to place her mug in the sink (stumbling slightly, of course). "At least, not summery ones."

He raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "No? And why is that?"

On her way out of the kitchen she shot him a cheeky wink, and he nearly spit out his cocoa when she said, "Well, Remus, when it's really hot out I like to sleep starkers."

He hadn't been able to fall asleep after that.

Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it!

Toodles,
- ish -