Author's Note: These short pieces were written for the rtchallenge on livejournal. The link is on my bio page, so please check it out if you want some amazing stuff to read. They're having another soon, and I'll make sure to pimp it when they set a date.
These dialogue heavy pieces are a bit goofy, but this is my favorite writing style, so I thought I'd post them.
"Remus?...You hiding in here?"
"Party's downstairs, ya know…."
"Come dance with me?"
He chuckles, running a shaky hand through neatly-trimmed hair.
"I'm not much of a dancer, Nymphadora."
"…..Scared I'll maim you?"
He flushes scarlet.
"…..Charlie couldn't take his eyes off you tonight."
"You couldn't, either, until you left…."
"You danced with him."
"After you left."
Cornered and, ashamedly, jealous, his hands scrape lightly at the coverlet, his eyes coveting her.
"We could leave….these shoes are murder…"
"I'll massage your feet…"
She moves closer.
"….And this dress is killing me.…"
Without knocking, Tonks bounds in and throws herself on Lupin's bed.
"What are you reading?"
He turns a page.
"...Civil Rights and Lycanthropy: A Thorough Evaluation of Dark Creatures in the Modern Wizarding World"
"You're not going to shut it and drag me downstairs?"
"Nah, it's not like all those other yawners you're always glued to."
"You know…..all those stodgy history books you pick from downstairs even though they're slathered in dust 'cos no one wants to read them."
Her nearest leg wanders over to curl casually around his calf, eyes watching his thumb rub at the book spine when he closes it to study her.
"Nymphadora…..why do you always come in here after duty?"
"Because you have cute feet."
"I have Cute. Feet. So it's not to peruse and/or chastise my daily reading selections, it's to ogle my feet?"
"Partly…and today I caught you in jeans." (grins impishly and nudges him)
"Well, you're….(chuckles fondly)…You're frightfully honest."
"Scary, ain't it."
"It is for me, at least."
Her smile falters.
"….I guess because I always know where I stand with you…and it's a lot closer than people normally allow."
"…Is that so bad?"
(her voice gentle, foot running lightly across his ankle, making him flush.)
"No, it's just….women rarely give me the time of day. I'm not used to…I don't want to call it 'attention,' but I guess that's what it is."
"Remus, everyone in The Order thinks the world of you, even the women…. But until you figure that out, I guess I have you all to myself."
When she smiles, he timidly clears his throat.
"'Dora, you're…young –"
"Is this "the professor" voice?"
"Pretty much, and….I'd rather you didn't learn some lessons the hard way. Women stay away from men like me for a reason."
"No, Nymphadora, they…"
"Small wiener?" she whispers, smiling.
"NO! Merlin, no. Tonks!" (exasperated)
"Look, why don't you just give your "poster boy for denial" image a rest and go get coffee with me. It's nice out tonight."
He stares at her blankly.
"Did you know in 1800's Germany, women seen in public with werewolves were burned at the stake?"
"Did you know that when you read, you put your thumb right here and rub your lip and it's bloody precious?"
When she pulls the lycanthropy book from his hands and drops it on her side of the floor, he looks at her like she needs therapy.
"So now that your werewolf reading material is gone, what about that coffee?"
"And the pleasure of your company." (pushing a strand of hair behind his ear)
(finally smiling again, his shoulders drop in strange defeat, his eyes affectionate)
"Nymphadora….the pleasure is all mine."
For a brief moment, the wall drops, his face wordlessly mirroring everything she's felt on so many evenings, reclining on his bed, shoeless.
"A Simple Case of Transference"
(6:30 AM, nearly vacant Grimmauld kitchen)
"Good morning, Harry."
"Morning, Professor Lupin."
Harry wonders if he saw what he thinks he saw and stops chewing his toast, furtively peeks under the table.
"Harry? Something wrong?"
"No! No, I just…(laughs, confused) It's just….you're wearing Doc Marten's."
"Yes….they're terribly comfortable."
"I'm sure they are."
"Good for the arches."
"…..They seem out-of-place on me."
Harry's stifled laugh finally escapes.
"A little bit, yeah."
Remus nods thoughtfully and shrugs, stirring sugar into his tea.
"I haven't had much time to recover from transformations these days, and the muscles in my feet heal slowly….A friend could tell my old shoes didn't help matters and recommended these, so I found a decent thrift shop pair. They're a bit worn, but the soles are good; and they've helped with the pain."
Harry nods, sympathetic but, nevertheless, amused.
"And I like them. They remind me of her…the one who recommended them, and….I guess when we care about people, feel affection for them, we find it easier to aesthetically appreciate the things they appreciate…perhaps because those things remind us of them…and being reminded of people we care about comforts us….I'm not making any sense, am I. I'm only on cup number one here, Harry."
"No! No, it makes total sense."
Grinning, Harry watches Remus take a deep drink of tea then dives into his toast, totally oblivious as Nymphadora Tonks enters the kitchen wearing a pink Weird Sisters T-shirt…. and tweed pants.
"Change is Good"
Tonks stands outside his bedroom door for five minutes before she decides to knock.
"Remus? You alright in there?...Remus?"
Her brows knit at his weak voice, and she tries the knob. Locked.
"Alohamora! Lupin, I'm coming in."
She swings the door back to find him frantically dragging a sheet off the bed, trying to cover himself.
"Oh! Oh, sorry. I didn't think about you being…n-..not having clothes on."
"Really…" (eyes harried and wide as she kneels in front of his sweaty body, crumpled against the bed frame)
"You okay?" (softly apologetic)
"To…. .to be quite honest, I think I'm going to throw up. Could you possibly leave before that happens?"
"No, I don't think so. Let's head for the loo."
"You really shouldn't-"
"Don't puke on me, 'kay?"
They barely make it to the door, and he's retching as she retrieves his robe, throwing it over his shoulders and rubbing at his back, the tight muscles contracting.
When he's finished she spell cleans the floor and gets him a toothpaste mug of tap water, which he can't force down, the hint of mint from the rim turning his stomach.
"Thank you. I'll be fine now. Really, you can go."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Tonks, I'm not used to this." (snappish)
"Used to what?"
"People seeing me like this." (closes his eyes, trying not to barf again. Suddenly, he laughs) "Don't you have better things to do on your day off than humiliate me? Boys to date? Havoc to wreak?"
She grins, an amused fondness in her features he's never seen.
And right before he falls asleep on the bathroom floor, his head pillowed in her lap, she whispers, "Get used to it, Lupin."