Strangeways, Here We Come
Conditioning…
She hates her name, and Remus still can't fully comprehend why.
It's beautiful, he repeatedly tells her. It's unique and enchanting; it sounds elegant and graceful.
"I'm not exactly an elegant and graceful person, am I?" she retorts with good nature, and he can't very well argue with that. But it is that comment which leads him to thinking.
Might it be precisely that which makes her first name so bothersome? That it acts as a constant reminder of the grace and balance she self-consciously lacks? Or it could be something completely different. Perhaps it links her to a cruel family she wants no such connection with, or maybe it creates some glamorous image she feels she can't live up to…
Sirius had always told him he was crap with psychology, but Remus can't help but wonder about all the things that make people tick – and attempting to figure out the many different facets of the woman he loves is no exception.
He remembers reading about some old Muggle psychologist who conditioned dogs to salivate when he rung a bell (perhaps that had led to some of Padfoot's disdain for the field?). All it had taken was ringing the bell each time the animals were presented with food, and eventually the chime alone would lead to their response. The logic intrigues him…
…So he decides to apply it.
He stops calling her Nymphadora throughout the course of the day. At first she is smug about it, thinking her protests have finally sunk in – but of course, they haven't. He merely takes to only whispering her name during the throes of passion, where it seems to slip from his tongue without thought or effort as she arches and digs her nails into his back.
Night after night he calls her name; sometimes it is with a sated sigh, sometimes with a beseeching groan, but every time she hears it she is drowning in satisfaction, too lost to correct him.
It is certainly one of the more enjoyable experiments he has ever undertaken. Eventually Remus decides it is time to determine its success. Have the more pleasurable associations with her name being uttered finally taken hold?
He must test his hypothesis.
"Tea, Nymphadora?" he asks her after an Order meeting, and receives a sweet smile.
"How was your day, Nymphadora?" he questions as she returns from the Ministry, and is rewarded with a coy look in her sparkling eyes.
"Good morning, Nymphadora," he whispers to her slowly-awakening form next to him, and he sees her shiver with delight.
She still protests when others use her first name, but no longer when Remus does; and he has to fight back a grin and a slight flush every time he thinks as to why.
Here's hoping you're all conditioned to hit that little review button after reading this! ;)
Toodles,
- ish -