Fic: A Lesson in Holding Hands, post five
Monday, 15 August 2005 01:19![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
krisomniacOne left to go, with any luck.
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
krislaughs
Title: A Lesson in Holding Hands
Rating: PG
Characters: Remus, Tonks - the night after the battle at Hogwarts.
Ships: R/S - only. I swear.
Disclaimer: Story based on the work of J. K. Rowling, owned by various publishers, not me. Clearly. Because if they were, this scene would not exist, and Remus would be happily snuggled up to his padfoot.
Wordcount (this part): 814
( Back to the beginning )
( Part four )
--
"How will you find it? How will you afford it?" She asks and gestures towards his robes, frayed, stained, and patched, held together by little more than a thread of dignity.
"I already have it, full stop." Remus tells her. He watches her think, consider the things she's been told, by Arthur, by Molly, by others. He watches her open her mouth to protest that it simply isn't possible. If he'd had a place to go to all this time, he wouldn't have had to-- He speaks before she can say a word.
"It was for Sirius and me," he says. The words come out barely louder than a sigh. Tonks cocks her head to listen. The gesture is so familiar, reminiscent of another--part of another life. He presses on. "Something to look forward to, if only he hadn't--" Remus' voice breaks, and he coughs to cover it.
"We found it well before that, though."
The moth flutters over to Remus and alights on his arm. He can feel the tiniest swirl of air off its wings; its dusty legs tickle the fine hairs on his skin. He blows gently and watches it rise, flying up and away. Soon, it disappears out the window.
Tonks is still listening, coiled in attentive anticipation.
"It started," Remus casts his mind back over the years, tracing webs of cause and effect through the course of his life, recalling young boys play-wrestling in the snow, revising by the lake on a warm summer's day. "We'd only been in Grimmauld Place a few weeks--the Order, and Sirius, and me." He shakes his head as the memories dance before his eyes. Merlin.
"It was a Saturday morning. I'd been on duty that night and the one before, and I'd just got back, ready to sleep. Sirius met me in the hall."
He remembers the sunlight on the smooth wood as he shut the door. He remembers the clicks of twelve different locks, the hum of concealment charms slipping back into place. He remembers a whoosh of air. Sirius did not so much meet him as come barrelling into him with the force of a charging erumpent in mating season; Sirius pressed him against the back of the door, heedless of disturbing the portraits with his unseemly display. Miraculously, they did not wake. He remembers laughing as the breath was knocked from his lungs, holding Sirius at arms length, trying to read new mysteries in the lines of his face. Is anyone around? he'd asked. No. Just me. A momentary flash of bitterness crossed Sirius' features, but was quickly replaced with a lascivious wink and wide grin. And you're never going to guess what I found!
"Someone -- Dung or Arthur -- had left that Friday's Prophet in the kitchen, with the front page and crossword missing. Sirius had been reading the classifieds."
In one move, Sirius had fallen to his knees and spread the paper open on the floor. Look he said That's it. That's the one. The picture was black and white, large and grainy, and it didn't even move.
It didn't have to. Remus squeezed Sirius' hand, and touched the picture gently. Their fleeting future lay under his fingertips.
~*~
Tonks is silent. She hasn't moved to say a word the entire time he was speaking.
"He found a house. A little cottage in Ayrshire, and--well, you knew Sirius--he wasn't easy to argue with." Remus smiles fondly. "He could be such a stubborn bastard," he says, but there are deep wells of affection in his words. "He was still wanted by the Ministry, so he bought it in my name. We'd planned to go there together, once everything settled down."
Tonks is silent, but inside her head, the thoughts bump and swirl and pound at her temples to make themselves heard.
Together.
And in the chaos, the memories begin to fall into place. A sly smile, a rumpled bed sheet, she sorts through the moments she's always overlooked. A laugh at some joke that no one else at the table understands, a temper flaring whenever Remus is away, a gentle touch and carefully brewed cup of tea before a long full moon night, a thousand moments and glances and unspoken questions slide across her memory. Her assumptions melt in the face of the word, together.
She feels like a child who'd never been told about Christmas, looking in through a yuletide window, seeing the festivities and fun, without understanding why anyone would put glass baubles and twinkling fairy lights on a tree.
~*~
Remus looks out the window while he waits for her to respond. Dawn is nearing, heralded by the pale blue sky over the horizon. It will be the first sunrise on a world without Albus Dumbledore, the first, unfaltering step towards the unknown.
When he looks back, Tonks is staring at him, her mouth the shape of a small o.
He almost smiles. She finally understands.
( On to the END )
--
Author:
krislaughsTitle: A Lesson in Holding Hands
Rating: PG
Characters: Remus, Tonks - the night after the battle at Hogwarts.
Ships: R/S - only. I swear.
Disclaimer: Story based on the work of J. K. Rowling, owned by various publishers, not me. Clearly. Because if they were, this scene would not exist, and Remus would be happily snuggled up to his padfoot.
Wordcount (this part): 814
( Back to the beginning )
( Part four )
--
"How will you find it? How will you afford it?" She asks and gestures towards his robes, frayed, stained, and patched, held together by little more than a thread of dignity.
"I already have it, full stop." Remus tells her. He watches her think, consider the things she's been told, by Arthur, by Molly, by others. He watches her open her mouth to protest that it simply isn't possible. If he'd had a place to go to all this time, he wouldn't have had to-- He speaks before she can say a word.
"It was for Sirius and me," he says. The words come out barely louder than a sigh. Tonks cocks her head to listen. The gesture is so familiar, reminiscent of another--part of another life. He presses on. "Something to look forward to, if only he hadn't--" Remus' voice breaks, and he coughs to cover it.
"We found it well before that, though."
The moth flutters over to Remus and alights on his arm. He can feel the tiniest swirl of air off its wings; its dusty legs tickle the fine hairs on his skin. He blows gently and watches it rise, flying up and away. Soon, it disappears out the window.
Tonks is still listening, coiled in attentive anticipation.
"It started," Remus casts his mind back over the years, tracing webs of cause and effect through the course of his life, recalling young boys play-wrestling in the snow, revising by the lake on a warm summer's day. "We'd only been in Grimmauld Place a few weeks--the Order, and Sirius, and me." He shakes his head as the memories dance before his eyes. Merlin.
"It was a Saturday morning. I'd been on duty that night and the one before, and I'd just got back, ready to sleep. Sirius met me in the hall."
He remembers the sunlight on the smooth wood as he shut the door. He remembers the clicks of twelve different locks, the hum of concealment charms slipping back into place. He remembers a whoosh of air. Sirius did not so much meet him as come barrelling into him with the force of a charging erumpent in mating season; Sirius pressed him against the back of the door, heedless of disturbing the portraits with his unseemly display. Miraculously, they did not wake. He remembers laughing as the breath was knocked from his lungs, holding Sirius at arms length, trying to read new mysteries in the lines of his face. Is anyone around? he'd asked. No. Just me. A momentary flash of bitterness crossed Sirius' features, but was quickly replaced with a lascivious wink and wide grin. And you're never going to guess what I found!
"Someone -- Dung or Arthur -- had left that Friday's Prophet in the kitchen, with the front page and crossword missing. Sirius had been reading the classifieds."
In one move, Sirius had fallen to his knees and spread the paper open on the floor. Look he said That's it. That's the one. The picture was black and white, large and grainy, and it didn't even move.
It didn't have to. Remus squeezed Sirius' hand, and touched the picture gently. Their fleeting future lay under his fingertips.
~*~
Tonks is silent. She hasn't moved to say a word the entire time he was speaking.
"He found a house. A little cottage in Ayrshire, and--well, you knew Sirius--he wasn't easy to argue with." Remus smiles fondly. "He could be such a stubborn bastard," he says, but there are deep wells of affection in his words. "He was still wanted by the Ministry, so he bought it in my name. We'd planned to go there together, once everything settled down."
Tonks is silent, but inside her head, the thoughts bump and swirl and pound at her temples to make themselves heard.
Together.
And in the chaos, the memories begin to fall into place. A sly smile, a rumpled bed sheet, she sorts through the moments she's always overlooked. A laugh at some joke that no one else at the table understands, a temper flaring whenever Remus is away, a gentle touch and carefully brewed cup of tea before a long full moon night, a thousand moments and glances and unspoken questions slide across her memory. Her assumptions melt in the face of the word, together.
She feels like a child who'd never been told about Christmas, looking in through a yuletide window, seeing the festivities and fun, without understanding why anyone would put glass baubles and twinkling fairy lights on a tree.
~*~
Remus looks out the window while he waits for her to respond. Dawn is nearing, heralded by the pale blue sky over the horizon. It will be the first sunrise on a world without Albus Dumbledore, the first, unfaltering step towards the unknown.
When he looks back, Tonks is staring at him, her mouth the shape of a small o.
He almost smiles. She finally understands.
( On to the END )
--
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
2005-08-16 03:58 (UTC)And in the chaos, the memories begin to fall into place. A sly smile, a rumpled bed sheet, she sorts through the moments she's always overlooked. A laugh at some joke that no one else at the table understands, a temper flaring whenever Remus is away, a gentle touch and carefully brewed cup of tea before a long full moon night, a thousand moments and glances and unspoken questions slide across her memory. Her assumptions melt in the face of the word, together.
Beautifully done. :)
no subject
2005-08-16 11:11 (UTC)Mmm. I had fun with that one too. It's amazing all the things you don't see--until you finally see them.