Strangeways, Here We Come

Reading…

She loved her morphing abilities, she really did. They let her alter her body's colour, shape and size, which aside from helping to make her unique and open up opportunities, was just plain fun. She'd never had the longest attention span, so the capability to continuously change her appearance was quite a handy gift.

That made her seem flighty, however – and often she was, but some things she took very seriously. She would transform the way she looked, but never who she was. As soon as she heard a man say, "Hey Tonks, why don't you slim down those hips a tad?" or "Tonks, I think that shirt would look better with a larger cup size", she would walk out the door (after slamming it for good measure).

But then she met Remus, and for the first time she wanted to change herself for a man. How ironic that this time it was impossible, given that morphing into non-living things couldn't be done – and that was unfortunate, because she had felt the bizarre yearning to be a book.

Could anybody really blame her? Ever since she had begun observing him in the Grimmauld Place library, she found herself jealous of the way he tenderly treated his tomes. Her eyes had been riveted as he slowly trailed his long fingers down their spines, softly stroking the yellowing pages, inhaling their musky aromas… It always led her to terribly naughty thoughts – if he was that gentle and reverent with the inanimate objects he cherished, how attentive must he be as a lover?

She had been surprised the texts didn't burst into flames from the intensity of her green-eyed glares directed at them. It was undoubtedly daft to feel such envy for books of all things, but she simply hadn't been able to stop her mind from running away with her, picturing her own body studied by those wonderfully agile hands of his…

A rather amusing thought had entered her head one night, to merely morph some poetry and prose onto her skin and have him read that (and more), but perhaps that would have been a bit forward. She hadn't wanted to give the man a heart attack, after all (not that she thought him old, of course!).

Luckily she was eventually able to stop her imagining, and experienced the real thing instead. When he was tangled up with her, his head burrowed in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent more deeply than he ever had with the musty parchment. Using those long fingers in sinful ways, his hands traced teasingly up and down her spine more gently than he had with his delicate volumes.

The things he made her feel were much more wonderful than what she had lustily observed on their evenings in the library – he read her perfectly, his literacy focused with a single-minded intensity that he rarely devoted to anything else. She couldn't believe she had ever wanted to be a book when simply being Tonks was a thousand times better…

Remus makes reading fun! Think he might do the same for reviewing? ;)

Toodles,
- ish -