Fic: A Lesson in Holding Hands, part one
Wednesday, 10 August 2005 13:53![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
krisomniacAuthor: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
krislaughs
Title: A Lesson in Holding Hands
Rathing: PG
Characters: Remus, Tonks
Ships: R/S
Summary: My take on the soon-to-be always-written missing scene: Remus and Tonks some hours after leaving Bill's bedside.
Spoilers: Through HBP
Disclaimer: Not Mine. Clearly. Because if they were, this scene would not exist, and Remus would be happily snuggled up to his padfoot.
Wordcount: ~800
Author's Note: Er. Had to get it out. Gut reaction to you-know-what. I'll be posting this in short segments over the next few days. ETA: edited 3/06
A Lesson in Holding Hands
Remus sits on the edge of the bed, perched lightly on one knee. The brocade duvet is crinkled beneath him. It smells clean, feels stiff, is long unused. He is quiet and tense. His breaths come shallow and the soft hiss of air past his lips is the only sound in the room. His eyes roam slowly around the walls, never settling on any one stone, controlled in ceaseless movement.
It is early morning -- though dawn is some time away. The remnants of a velveted night coat the castle and grounds. Hogwarts is silent.
The phoenix song has left a deafening void. Even the distant leaves make no sound as a night-breeze blows through and among them, branches waving against the sky. If the children are wondering, the rumours flying, or the paintings whispering, he cannot hear them.
A single candle lights the room where he sits. It is not enough to pierce the darkness spilling through the open window. He did not so much choose this--of the castle's many guest bedrooms--as allow his feet to lead him here; they followed, like water, the course of least resistance.
If stars are visible in the sky outside, he doesn't see them. The flame flickers, casting wavering shadows along the stone ceiling and floor.
Poised, he does not lie down, attempt to change his dirty robes, or wipe the blood from his cheek. He is expecting... something to happen. His wand is cool in his hand, against the duvet, smooth wood and heavy wool beneath his palm. There is a prickling in the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck, though the heat of battle has faded into the cold fire of memory.
And so, he waits.
Knock.
He does not leap from the bed, nor does he bolt towards the doorway. The prickle dissipates along his skin, and a languid calm floods his limbs. He inhales, ready because he must be. Absently, he wonders whether he will find a moment to sleep before dawn. He refuses to wonder when he will again find peaceful rest.
Deliberate and calm, he rises and opens the door.
Tonks is standing in the doorway, framed by the dark hall behind her. Candlelight dances across the planes of her face, searches out blonde strands in her mousey brown hair. She looks straight at him, willing him to meet her eyes. Now. Please. He watches the emotions flicker over her face: relief that she has found him, fear that he will be unmoved by her pleas, hope that he has changed his mind, joy that he opened the door.
He steps aside and invites her in. The door creaks shut, and he can almost see her heart flutter with fantastic anticipation, a shiver across her narrow shoulders. He wonders how long she has been searching for this door and inhales slowly; she is facing the window with her eyes closed.
Remus watches her indecision, and it tears him. Her movements are small, timid. There is desperation in her eyes -- a desperation tinged with hope. He savours this final moment of silence and runs a tired hand behind his neck.
~*~
Tonks steps inside, and thrills that she has finally found the room. Her joy, however, dissipates in the dim candlelight.
Suddenly the walls feel too close, the space too small, the air too still. Tonks leans out the open window where the wind blows past her face. For a moment she wonders what it would feel like to throw herself out. She wonders whether he would save her.
She steps back.
Words--though they came so readily in front of Bill and Fleur--fail her now. She is afraid to break the silence. Instead, she runs a hand through her hair, trying to coax out its shimmer and shine. It hangs limply over her ears. The lines she'd practiced, while wandering the darkened halls, queue for her consideration. How are you? she attempts to ask, but she already knows the answer to that. Now that she is here, her stubborn hopes feel foolish.
Yet they persist.
"Have a seat," he finally says, indicating the bed, the chair, any of the heavy pieces of furniture scattered throughout the room.
She nods and settles on the edge of the bed. The covers are warm--like him. They send a thrill through the tiny nerve endings in her skin. His room smells like the castle, familiar and dusty, yet there is something more, musky and comfortable as a soft jumper. Her legs are curled under her, and she looks up expectantly, waiting for him to say something, anything. Remus pulls over the desk chair and sits opposite her. She cannot meet his eyes, but studies a small freckle on the bridge of his nose.
"Tonks," he begins.
( Post Two )
--
krislaughsTitle: A Lesson in Holding Hands
Rathing: PG
Characters: Remus, Tonks
Ships: R/S
Summary: My take on the soon-to-be always-written missing scene: Remus and Tonks some hours after leaving Bill's bedside.
Spoilers: Through HBP
Disclaimer: Not Mine. Clearly. Because if they were, this scene would not exist, and Remus would be happily snuggled up to his padfoot.
Wordcount: ~800
Author's Note: Er. Had to get it out. Gut reaction to you-know-what. I'll be posting this in short segments over the next few days. ETA: edited 3/06
A Lesson in Holding Hands
Remus sits on the edge of the bed, perched lightly on one knee. The brocade duvet is crinkled beneath him. It smells clean, feels stiff, is long unused. He is quiet and tense. His breaths come shallow and the soft hiss of air past his lips is the only sound in the room. His eyes roam slowly around the walls, never settling on any one stone, controlled in ceaseless movement.
It is early morning -- though dawn is some time away. The remnants of a velveted night coat the castle and grounds. Hogwarts is silent.
The phoenix song has left a deafening void. Even the distant leaves make no sound as a night-breeze blows through and among them, branches waving against the sky. If the children are wondering, the rumours flying, or the paintings whispering, he cannot hear them.
A single candle lights the room where he sits. It is not enough to pierce the darkness spilling through the open window. He did not so much choose this--of the castle's many guest bedrooms--as allow his feet to lead him here; they followed, like water, the course of least resistance.
If stars are visible in the sky outside, he doesn't see them. The flame flickers, casting wavering shadows along the stone ceiling and floor.
Poised, he does not lie down, attempt to change his dirty robes, or wipe the blood from his cheek. He is expecting... something to happen. His wand is cool in his hand, against the duvet, smooth wood and heavy wool beneath his palm. There is a prickling in the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck, though the heat of battle has faded into the cold fire of memory.
And so, he waits.
Knock.
He does not leap from the bed, nor does he bolt towards the doorway. The prickle dissipates along his skin, and a languid calm floods his limbs. He inhales, ready because he must be. Absently, he wonders whether he will find a moment to sleep before dawn. He refuses to wonder when he will again find peaceful rest.
Deliberate and calm, he rises and opens the door.
Tonks is standing in the doorway, framed by the dark hall behind her. Candlelight dances across the planes of her face, searches out blonde strands in her mousey brown hair. She looks straight at him, willing him to meet her eyes. Now. Please. He watches the emotions flicker over her face: relief that she has found him, fear that he will be unmoved by her pleas, hope that he has changed his mind, joy that he opened the door.
He steps aside and invites her in. The door creaks shut, and he can almost see her heart flutter with fantastic anticipation, a shiver across her narrow shoulders. He wonders how long she has been searching for this door and inhales slowly; she is facing the window with her eyes closed.
Remus watches her indecision, and it tears him. Her movements are small, timid. There is desperation in her eyes -- a desperation tinged with hope. He savours this final moment of silence and runs a tired hand behind his neck.
~*~
Tonks steps inside, and thrills that she has finally found the room. Her joy, however, dissipates in the dim candlelight.
Suddenly the walls feel too close, the space too small, the air too still. Tonks leans out the open window where the wind blows past her face. For a moment she wonders what it would feel like to throw herself out. She wonders whether he would save her.
She steps back.
Words--though they came so readily in front of Bill and Fleur--fail her now. She is afraid to break the silence. Instead, she runs a hand through her hair, trying to coax out its shimmer and shine. It hangs limply over her ears. The lines she'd practiced, while wandering the darkened halls, queue for her consideration. How are you? she attempts to ask, but she already knows the answer to that. Now that she is here, her stubborn hopes feel foolish.
Yet they persist.
"Have a seat," he finally says, indicating the bed, the chair, any of the heavy pieces of furniture scattered throughout the room.
She nods and settles on the edge of the bed. The covers are warm--like him. They send a thrill through the tiny nerve endings in her skin. His room smells like the castle, familiar and dusty, yet there is something more, musky and comfortable as a soft jumper. Her legs are curled under her, and she looks up expectantly, waiting for him to say something, anything. Remus pulls over the desk chair and sits opposite her. She cannot meet his eyes, but studies a small freckle on the bridge of his nose.
"Tonks," he begins.
( Post Two )
--
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
2005-08-10 18:43 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 03:32 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 03:36 (UTC)(I'm trying out my own take on this ship. It's...not going too well.)
no subject
2005-08-11 04:41 (UTC)I really wanted to have Remus tell the story of the time Tonks peed on Sirius while he was changing her nappies. But *sigh* it got cut...
no subject
2005-08-10 18:55 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 03:32 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-10 19:43 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 03:33 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-10 20:03 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 03:34 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-10 20:20 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 03:37 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-10 20:49 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 03:37 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 20:41 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 02:03 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 03:44 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 05:18 (UTC)I look forward to the rest.
no subject
2005-08-11 12:59 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 06:21 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 12:59 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 13:05 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 06:48 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 12:59 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-11 14:29 (UTC)*sniff*
:D HAHA. Hugs Tonks! *R/S all the way*
no subject
2005-08-11 21:35 (UTC)no subject
2005-08-12 15:47 (UTC)