Strangeways, Here We Come

Mirrors…

Tonks' mind often wandered, but more so whenever she lay in bed without his tantalizing (albeit tentative) touch to distract her. Usually it pondered pointless and quirky things; one example was her current focus on the full-length mirror hanging next to the closet.

She wondered what mirrors would think, seeing somebody every day. They would always reflect the same person's image, but with slight differences as they grew and changed. It would be interesting to witness such progressions over time… Naturally, some people would change quicker than others, and she thought about the glass hanging back in the bathroom of her own flat. It saw a different version of her with every morph she made, yet it always knew it was her.

At least her mirror was good-natured about it, even going so far as to suggest hair colours. Others, like the Noble and Most Ancient Mirror of Black on the wall there, were decidedly less pleasant. With its snide comments, it was no wonder Remus exerted a great deal of effort to avoid catching a glimpse of himself in it. At least, that was what she had initially assumed.

It hadn't been hard to notice his averted eyes or turned back whenever he moved past it. She had jokingly considered him being a vampire instead of a werewolf – but with that musing, the pieces fell into place. It seemed that like everything else in his life, it traced back to his lycanthropy. It had been difficult to grasp at first, since she relished every opportunity to shamelessly ogle his body; it was sobering when she realized that he clearly didn't find himself anywhere near as handsome as she did.

She knew he hated his scars, everlasting evidence of his curse that couldn't be cured or charmed away. They could be covered, but for him his tattered clothes and robes were just further reminders of his impoverished condition; the only thing he could do was try not to think about it, and thus he avoided looking at himself. No matter her reassurances that patches and scratches didn't matter, he insisted on being a man without a reflection.

Jolting back to reality and away from her contemplations, Tonks watched him walk over to his desk, his eyes purposely set on the floor and his path as far away from the looking glass as possible. She wished he could see himself like she saw him: charming, dashing, gentlemanly and sexy, despite his scars and even because of them. It was a shame mirrors didn't work that way…

And that prompted an idea to blossom in her mind. As soon as she could wrench herself away from his cosy bed and warm body, she set off to her task. It required a few hours of scouring through musty books and several failed endeavours when practising the spell, but she finally managed to bring her scheme to fruition.

It was some time before it was noticed, however, and Tonks certainly wasn't the most patient of witches. Still, she thought it all worthwhile, as the next time Remus glanced in his mirror he nearly had a heart attack when it wolf-whistled at him and cooed, "The Professor gets top marks – but bonus points if he takes off his shirt!"

He had blushed, stuttered, and begged for her to remove the charm – but she knew better. He probably could have easily done it himself if he had really wanted to, and she certainly didn't miss his futile attempts at suppressing a smile whenever he passed by and heard its seductive compliments. It took quite a while, but she caught him standing before the mirror more and more often, actually chuckling at the creative new praise spoken each time (from "Those pants look uncomfortable; perhaps you should take them off?" to "My, what big… feet you have!").

She couldn't have been happier with him more accepting of setting eyes on his body; and of course, an added bonus was that he sometimes took the mirror's suggestions to heart… Now, if only it would stop coming up with better lines than she could!

Will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror if you don't leave me a review? ;-)

Toodles,
- ish -