Haunted. Written for Remadora Microfics October day 1: Haunted. G.
The Shrieking Shack stood tall and imposing above them, leaning to the side against the fading autumnal light. Tonks had never been this close to the dilapidated structure, despite her teenage attempts, and she shivered in the brisk November wind, clutching her cloak around her chilly body.
It was hard to believe that only a decade ago, she was making bets with her Hufflepuff friends to see who could get closest to the Shack without getting scared. She'd won, of course, being the most fearless of them all. But even then, she remembered the way her pink hair flopped against the back of her neck, leading her to believe an unknown presence was around her, ready to snatch and entrench her within the decrepit walls of Scotland's most haunted building.
A tree branch snapped and she gasped, releasing a puff of warm breath, condensing smoke-like and wispy. It vanished away, carried on the wind with a flurry of dead, browning leaves.
"Scared?"
"Not a chance, Lupin."
He lifted a brow at her. "I don't know why you wanted to see this place."
"Call it insatiable curiosity."
"Whatever you say," Lupin replied drily. "Lead the way, Nymphadora."
"Don't call me that," she growled, punching him lightly in the side. His eyes crinkled in that smug, amused way of his. He seemed to take a peculiar kind of pleasure in calling her that ridiculous name. Too irritated by the smirk and corresponding chuckle on his lips, she stomped into the Shack and started sneezing.
"Evanesco," Lupin murmured. The layers of dust disappeared from the floor and walls. "Shall we go on?"
Tonks was ready to agree, until something black and winged flew out from one of the rafters.
"ACK!" she shrieked, reaching out for Lupin.
"Just a bat," he said, his gaze locked on the space between them. Tonks let go of his hand, feeling suddenly shy at her overreaction.
"Sorry."
Lupin flexed his fingers and shook his head.
"Don't worry about it."
Pink had invaded his cheeks and neck. Tonks gaped, having never seen him so flustered.
"Anyway," Lupin cleared his throat, "shall we go on?"
As he led her throughout the rest of the Shack, Tonks noticed the way he kept his distance from her. He hadn't been like that in weeks, not since the start of their friendship, when she'd learned he was a werewolf. Wondering if she'd done something wrong, Tonks tried to get closer, but Remus backed away from every attempt. By the time they stepped out of the Shack, his shoulders were tense, his jaw was clenched, and he was giving her terse replies.
"Well, thanks for the tour, I s'pose," Tonks said, talking to his shoulder, as he decided not to look at her anymore. "Meeting's still at eight?"
"It is."
"And you're free till then?"
"I am."
"So am I."
"Hmm." Lupin had walked away. He stared up at a tree, examining a leafy branch.
"Er, Lupin?"
He raised the slightest brow at Tonks's address.
"Since we've got the time . . . would you like to get a drink with me before the meeting? Maybe at The Three Broomsticks?"
Lupin rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure that's the best idea."
"Why not?"
"I'm, er . . . " The curious shade of pink returned to his face. He'd finally turned to meet her gaze. "I'm not exactly a welcome patron there." He gestured lamely at the ramshackle Shack they just left behind. It took a few seconds too long for Tonks to realize what he was referring to.
"What about a Muggle pub?" she said hurriedly. "In London?"
A slight, wounded line appeared between Lupin's brow. "I'm sorry, but I haven't the money for drinks."
"How about—"
"Tonks," Lupin interrupted, strained, "I'm sorry. I'm not the kind of person you should want as a friend."
"But you are my friend. Already."
Lupin's shoulders hunched over. He tucked his hands inside his pockets and grimaced. The wind whipped around him, blowing crispy brown leaves across his prematurely lined face.
Tonks reviewed the events of the last half hour; everything had been fine until she took his hand. He began acting strangely then and refused to let her anywhere near him. His easiness and humor had vanished, giving way to the standoffish, closed man he'd been when she'd discovered his deepest, most shameful secret.
"Remus," said Tonks, getting his attention with the use of his given name, an idea forming on the tip of her tongue, "are you seeing anyone?"
Remus's eyes flew wide open. He seemed almost too stunned to be embarrassed.
"Is that a yes?"
"No!" He replied, nearly too fast. "No, I'm not."
"Well then . . . seeing as we're friends and you're not with anyone," Tonks reasoned, "and neither of us has anywhere to be for a while . . . what's stopping us from taking a walk around a park? Maybe Holland Park, which has the Japanese gardens?"
"Er—"
"It doesn't cost anything to walk around the gardens and we're already friends."
Thinking quickly, Tonks closed the space between them and grabbed his arm. Though they were separated by layers of clothing, a little thrill came over her at being able to touch him again.
The tips of Remus's ears turned red. Tonks fought the smile that threatened to overtake her face. She was becoming more sure of her hypothesis by the moment.
"Please?" She batted her eyelashes at him and offered her most indulgent, winning smile. "If you do, I'll let you call me Nymphadora while we're there."
A shy, sweet smile finally played at Remus's lips.
If she wasn't mistaken, Tonks believed she'd discovered another one of his biggest secrets.