Reflections

Spoilers:Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Character Spoiler).
Summary: Lupin shares a quiet moment on Christmas eve. T/L fluff.
Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: Not mine, J. K. Rowling’s. Hopefully she won’t mind my visiting the characters from time to time.

Candle light flickered across the walls, dancing brightly and untiringly as Remus Lupin sat, comfortable in the shadow of the Christmas tree that had been over-decorated with Sirius’ enthusiasm earlier in the month. He’d sensed, however, that his best mate’s enthusiasm had lessened as the day had passed on., waning with the level of butterbeer in the pewter pitcher. He slowly turned his goblet round, watching the brandy swirl around the cup.

It had been a pleasant day; full of friends and laughter. And the relative silence of the drawing room was a good end to the pleasant rush and excitement of the holiday. He leaned back against the sofa and watched the candles flicker on the still magically lit tree, as he thought over the day, the holiday break, and the events of the past week. It had been good for Sirius to have Harry and the Weasley’s at Grimauld Place over the holidays. Good for Sirius to not be alone in his family’s old house where he could wallow in memories and the past until it started eating away at his soul far worse than a kiss from a dementor.

It hadn’t been Remus’ choice to live in the dusty old mansion—grand and elegant, but equally dark, cold, and unforgiving; However, he’d chosen to do so for his friend. But tonight he wondered, as he took a sip of the brandy and let it rest in his mouth for an instant before swallowing, if it was doing Sirius any good to have him here. Or if Remus’ presence wasn’t in some ways an equally strong and unpleasant reminder of the past as was the ancient Black household his childhood mate found himself caged in.

‘Any of that left?’

He turned his head around to see Tonks standing in the doorway dressed in muggle jeans and an oversized sweater, her hair bright blue and sticking out crazily in a hundred different directions.

‘Not much, but I’ll share, if you’d like a sip,’ he lifted the goblet out to her and she grinned, entering the room, and treading carefully across a large thin box that had contained a broom polishing kit for one of the Weasley twins and stepping right into a pile of wrapping paper that had earlier in the day been used as a bed by Crookshanks. As she lifted her foot forward, she caught the toe of her trainers on a green ribbon and fell forward, landing on her knees and catching herself with her hands directly in front of Remus.

‘Sorry,’ she looked up at him, sheepishly, her eyes—a brilliant blue to match her hair this evening—reflecting the light of the candles in front of her.

‘It’s all right,’ he said with a smile, handing the goblet over to her. ‘You didn’t spill the brandy, so you’re forgiven, just this once.’

She sat back on her heels and took the goblet of brandy from him. ‘Thanks, Remus.’

She took a sip and then handed the chalice back to him and they sat in silence, watching the candlelight flicker across the walls and listening to the crackling from the huge fireplace behind them. For a time, neither of them spoke, content to let the silence embrace them in the early evening hours.

Remus glanced sideways at the girl—no woman really—that sat beside him. She looked different nearly every time he saw her, different colour hair, different colour eyes, different noses or body builds, but there was something about her demeanor that nearly always spoke Tonks to him, and tonight, he realized what it was: her eyes. No matter how many different colours they might be shaded, there was a sparkle in them that seemed in diminishable. Tonight, that sparkle was embodied in flecks of sea green floating in the ocean deep blue pools she’d coloured her eyes.

She looked up at him suddenly, catching his gaze, and he felt heat rush to his cheeks as he glanced back to the now nearly empty goblet of brandy and away from his close inspection.

‘Do I have something on my nose?’ She grinned at him.

‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘Nothing on your nose.’

‘Cheeks then?’

‘No,’ he said, a slow grin curling up the corners of his lips.

‘Then why were you staring at me as if I were the Mona Lisa?’

‘The Mona—’

‘Famous piece of Muggle artwork,’ she explained airily and he found himself grinning more than ever now.

‘I’m aware of what it is,’ he said. ‘I was not aware that I was staring at you as if you were the Mona Lisa. And,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘You’re much more beautiful than her.’

It was her turn to blush, and in the candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush. ‘You’re making fun.’

‘No, not really,’ he replied calmly, glancing at the goblet in his hand and wondering at his boldness. Had he had too much to drink?

She giggled and squinted up her nose and her features changed to that of a little old woman, with grey hair and smile lines around her eyes. ‘There, that’s better.’

She was laughing at him, her eyes still reflecting the candles on the Christmas tree, the colour having changed to a deep grey wherein glowed warm flecks of amber light. The grey hair and wrinkled face looked oddly out of place on the slender build clothed in hip hugging jeans and the multicoloured Celtic knotted sweater.

‘If your point was to make yourself less attractive you’ll need to stop laughing with your eyes,’ he pointed out, finishing off the brandy with a satisfied smile. ‘And if you plan on using that as a disguise,’ he winked at her. ‘I’d change your clothing, as I don’t remember the last time I saw a little old lady, Muggle or wizard, that wore jeans that showed her bellybutton.’

She glanced down at the small strip of bare skin showing between her jeans and her sweater and blushed, wrinkling up her nose again and returning to the blue hair and blue eyes and smooth skin she’d had only moments before.

‘All right, Remus, point taken,’ she laughed. ‘I just didn’t like the way you were looking at me! All admiringly and kind of… I don’t know… flirtatious-like!’

‘Ah, so if I glare at you like Snape does, or look at exasperated at you like Molly does, you’d feel more comfortable, is that it?’

‘Not exactly!’ She laughed again. ‘I’m just not used to you staring at me.’

He turned his head and gazed at her, a half smile on his lips as she started squirming under his steady eyes.

‘Oh, Merlin’s beard, Remus! You’ve gone and made me all self-conscious.’ She stood to her feet rapidly and gave him a pout. ‘I’m not going to be able to stand Order meetings with you around now.’

‘Indeed?’ He stood as well, brushing ribbon strands and tiny bits of glittering wrapping paper off of his pants as he did so. ‘Perhaps you’d best leave then. I’d hate for you to be self-conscious.’

‘I probably won’t be able to walk out of the room without tripping over my shoelace,’ she exclaimed. ‘And then, I’ll get to the hall and wake Sirius’ Mum and the whole house’ll be in an uproar and Molly will be ready to throttle me! Sometimes I think I’m just another kid to her, and she’d like to chew me out the way she does Fred and George!’

Lupin chuckled. ‘Perhaps, a steady hand out the door then,’ he said quietly, extending his arm to her.

She blinked, and stared for a moment at his offered arm before reaching over and taking it, said playfully: ‘With all the brandy you’ve drunk tonight, I have my doubts how steady it will be.’

He grinned at her as he led her across the drawing room towards the door. ‘You underestimate me, Tonks.’

‘Underestimate how?’ She turned her face up to him again, nose scrunched up as if she were to chance faces again but her features remained the same.

He paused under the doorway, under the mistletoe he’d laughed at Sirius for putting up not four evenings before, finding himself suddenly very thankful that his mate’s enthusiastic Christmas cheer had spread to decorations.

‘I think I get a Christmas kiss,’ he said, his voice low and serious. ‘That’s the tradition, at any rate.’

She glanced above them, her eyes widened slightly, and she threw back another pout. ‘You did that on purpose!’

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘I think I did.’

Her eyes still reflected the candlelight, flickering light blue reflections of the flames in the room. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, touching their lips together. He was vaguely aware of her arms slipping around his neck, and his own slipping around her back, the wool of her sweater rough against his hands. As he pulled back, her eyes were the same ocean depths of Nymphadora Tonks, still flickering with the reflections of the candle light—and his own face.

By Sabrina