Drabble from Mum, fionnabhar
Here's a drabble Mum was too embarassed to post in her own journal. (Teehee.) She hopes that it will help us with our grieving.
Remus Drabble
The sun peeped just over the horizon, streaking the morning sky with a shocking pink. The full moon had sunk out of sight, its power waning as the daylight faded it to nothing. Remus had slipped under the covers, spooning up against the figure asleep in the middle of the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment and let the ache in his joints leach away with each breath. He inhaled deeply and the unlikely scent of forget-me-nots wafted across his consciousness. Jarred, he cocked one eye open. The pink head on his shoulder stirred, and Tonks burrowed deeper under the covers against him. Pink again, he thought, shaking his head bemusedly. He kissed the pink head softly so as not to wake her and held her tighter. She was soft, he thought.
With Sirius, it had been all angles and hard muscle and sandalwood. Very nice, but soft had a lot a going for it, too. And forget-me-nots. And pink. He thought back to the first time he and Tonks had made love, the night after Dumbledore’s funeral, when they had both been so raw and fragile. He had tried once again to remind her that he was too old . . . too poor . . . too dangerous . . . too what? Too still half in love with a dead man? She had hesitantly reminded him that she could change her appearance to anything he wanted. In particular, she had emphasized the *anything.* She had shrugged and said it wouldn’t bother her, that she liked being a brunet once in a while. Her willingness to make such a personal sacrifice, essentially to take herself out the picture while they made love had knocked the wind out of him. But no, that was something he would never, ever ask her to do.
It was time to let go. Sirius was gone, and he wasn’t coming back this time. Tonks was here, and she was real, and by some incalculable odds, they had found each other to cling to when there wasn’t a hell of lot left to hold onto anymore. And she was pink, he thought with a smile. Pink, like a sunrise. And after what had been a long, endless, hellish night, he was finally ready to start a new day.
Remus Drabble
The sun peeped just over the horizon, streaking the morning sky with a shocking pink. The full moon had sunk out of sight, its power waning as the daylight faded it to nothing. Remus had slipped under the covers, spooning up against the figure asleep in the middle of the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment and let the ache in his joints leach away with each breath. He inhaled deeply and the unlikely scent of forget-me-nots wafted across his consciousness. Jarred, he cocked one eye open. The pink head on his shoulder stirred, and Tonks burrowed deeper under the covers against him. Pink again, he thought, shaking his head bemusedly. He kissed the pink head softly so as not to wake her and held her tighter. She was soft, he thought.
With Sirius, it had been all angles and hard muscle and sandalwood. Very nice, but soft had a lot a going for it, too. And forget-me-nots. And pink. He thought back to the first time he and Tonks had made love, the night after Dumbledore’s funeral, when they had both been so raw and fragile. He had tried once again to remind her that he was too old . . . too poor . . . too dangerous . . . too what? Too still half in love with a dead man? She had hesitantly reminded him that she could change her appearance to anything he wanted. In particular, she had emphasized the *anything.* She had shrugged and said it wouldn’t bother her, that she liked being a brunet once in a while. Her willingness to make such a personal sacrifice, essentially to take herself out the picture while they made love had knocked the wind out of him. But no, that was something he would never, ever ask her to do.
It was time to let go. Sirius was gone, and he wasn’t coming back this time. Tonks was here, and she was real, and by some incalculable odds, they had found each other to cling to when there wasn’t a hell of lot left to hold onto anymore. And she was pink, he thought with a smile. Pink, like a sunrise. And after what had been a long, endless, hellish night, he was finally ready to start a new day.