Once upon a time, in a far off kingdom

Of Tears and Rain

2007-02-21T13:38:38Z

This is an R/T fic I wrote a while ago but never posted here, for some reason.

Title: Of Tears and Rain
Author: citysnidget
Format: Fic
Rating & Warnings: T for language. Lots and lots of angst.
Word Count: 1,237
Summary: It’s the first Order meeting since Christmas, and Tonks wishes that she could be anywhere but here. Set during HBP.
Author’s Notes: For some reason, though I'm obsessed with Remus/Tonks, I had never written them before this. There are some parts which are still rocky, and concrit is welcome.

It’s the first Order meeting since Christmas, and Tonks wishes that she could be anywhere but here.

She hates that they still meet here, in the dank, smelly interior of her great-Aunt Black’s house. She dares not think of it as Sirius’ house, because that brings too much pain. She hurts enough already. This place is filled with far too many memories…how many times had she sat around this table and laughed, watching her cousin glumly pick splinters from around the edges while she and his best friend exchanged lustful glances? Ironic that such a depressing place should bring happy memories, and that those happy memories should in turn make her sad.

Her only gratitude is that the kitchen of Number 12 is dark. The only light comes from the ancient, filthy torches and the occasional flash of lightning from the high windows. And she’s found a place near the back corner of the crowded kitchen, to avoid the stares at her brown-haired appearance from her fellow Order members. And he can’t see her.

She can’t see him, either, but she knows where he stands. He’s at the front, on the opposite side of Tonks. She came in late on purpose just so there was no chance of her standing next to him. He’s always early, unlike her.

Dumbledore finishes talking, and everyone shuffles out, leaving to brave the fearsome weather outside. Even the thundering rain is better than staying here, in this house of Dark wizards and dead friends. Pretty soon it’s only the two of them left in the dirty, neglected kitchen. She’s loitering on purpose, because she knows he always stays late to clean up.

“Hello, Remus,” she says quietly, as he gathers papers off the table. He’s gotten awfully skinny since she saw him last month, and his clothes fit him more like drapery than clothing. His skin has a grey undertone, and there are dark circles under his wolfish eyes. His formally golden brown hair is now filled with many threads of silver. He looks terrible. She tells him so, although she knows she doesn’t look much better.

“It’s my job,” he says. “If I looked healthy, my fellows would suspect me.” He looks reluctant to talk to her, as though he knows what she’s trying to do, which he probably does.

“They’re not your fellows, Remus. You don’t belong there, among the savages. You ought to be sitting in a study, reading, or teaching in a classroom.” She hates it when he degrades himself like that.

“I may be more educated than them, but for them, it wasn’t an option. I am a werewolf, as are they, and that makes us equals in the eye of the law.” He’s trying to use logic now, which is silly. Nothing is logical in wartime.

“Yes, but in the eye of the law, Stan Shunpike is a Death Eater.” Like he pays any attention to the law, anyway. Now he’s just trying to make excuses.

He sighs, placing another piece of parchment into the neat pile he’s made on the tabletop. “I don’t feel like arguing, Tonks.” Oddly, she misses how he used to call her Nymphadora. Somehow, when it came from his mouth, she didn’t mind it so much.

“You think I feel like arguing, Remus? No, I’d much rather that you hadn’t given me anything to argue over. But I can’t go on living like this.” She indicates her mousey-brown hair, lying lank and lifeless over her head. “I’ve never been unable to morph. I’ve been taken off field duty because of it. Without my morphing, I’m just a regular Class 3 Auror. I’ve been guarding Hogwarts, which is, well, necessary, but dull.”

“I’m sorry, Tonks,” he says.

“It’s not that I care about that that much. It’s what’s at the cause of it. Because I’m so bloody sad, Remus. Every time I smile, I remember, and it falters. I can’t ever remember feeling like this, Remus. And I fucking hate it. I don’t feel like myself anymore. Don’t even look like myself. Because every time I’m even remotely happy, I remember that you won’t have me, and it hurt. Won’t you just—“

“Will you stop fucking trying to make me feel guilty, Tonks?” It’s the first time she’s ever heard him swear, and she jumps. He’s leaning on the table, breathing heavily, his formerly neat pile of papers scattered all over the greasy, chipped wood.

She doesn’t say anything for a while, just picks at her dirty nails and bites her lip. He composes himself again and begins to pick up the many pieces of parchment. After about five minutes, she speaks, quietly and cordially. “How was your Christmas, Remus?”

“As best as can be expected.” He clears his throat. “How was yours? Did you go to your parents’ house?”

“I was on duty,” she says simply.

“Dumbledore made you work on Christmas?” He looks furious.

“No. Dawlish did.” She sighs. She hates Dawlish and his bureaucratic procedures. “But if Dumbledore had made me work, it would have been no worse than anything he’s made you do.”

“Dumbledore didn’t make me do anything. He asked me to go underground, and I accepted. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had to.”

“I know,” she says, her throat choaking up. “I just…I hate seeing you like this.” A single tear escapes her left eye and falls clumsily down her cheek and onto her Auror robes. “You deserve so much more than life has given you.” She’s crying now, a common occurrence these days. “And what fate has given you, you refuse to take.” She wipes her face with her sleeve, but it doesn’t help.

“I can’t have you, Tonks. I can’t let myself. If Greyback found out…” he shudders. “You deserve so much more than me. I’m a werewolf, I’m poor, I’m dangerous—“

“I’m an Auror, I’m fucking used to danger!” she says for the billionth time, her tears still wet on her cheeks. He’s used the same lines a thousand times before, and she’s answered back just as many times, and he still won’t listen.

He doesn’t answer. Just as before, he has nothing to say to that that won’t sound sexist and stupid. She’s sick of it. She can’t take it anymore.

She glances at her watch. She has to report to Dawlish at 7:25 tomorrow morning, and it’s half past midnight already. She gets up from the table, sighs, and gathers her stuff from the corner, putting on her pink woolen coat. “I’ve got to go, Remus,” she says, smiling sadly at him from the doorway. He says nothing, just stares at the large pile of parchment in front of him. She blows him a kiss, and walks down the lightless hall to the door. She opens it and steps outside into the weather, closing the door carefully, so that he won’t have to go quiet her great-aunt’s portrait.

She just stands there for a moment, letting the rain wash away her tears. She’s getting soaked but she doesn’t much care. It seems so trivial in these times. With one last wistful glance at the building in front of her, she Apparates away

Missing Camp again

2006-09-16T17:05:26Z

So, well, it's another one of those days where all I can think about is camp.

It's probably because I dreamed about it, and I saw the road from the farm down to Edranel (the old camp) and it was like I was there...I could smell the trees and everything, and then I woke up in my own bed and felt depressed.

It's just...I dunno. I wish I could go back so bad. I would run through the Grassy Knoll, hug the flagpole and never let go. I swear to god I would make out with the trees.

I know I'm getting really annoying, always whining about camp to everyone, and I feel really bad about it, but how can I not, when I would give up anything to be there?

I made a camp playlist of all the songs that remind me of things that happened at camp. I need to exchange cds with Emma, cuz she has one, too.

First week of school...more hectic than ever. I'm completely exhausted, I'm coming down with something, I'm working hard for the first time since June, and it's just draining.

I wish I could go back to camp.

Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And everything you do,
Yeah they were all yellow,

I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called yellow

So then I took my turn
Oh all the things I've done
And it was all yellow

Your skin
Oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
D'you know you know I love you so
You know I love you so

I swam across
I jumped across for you
Oh all the things you do
Cause you were all yellow

I drew a line
I drew a line for you
Oh what a thing to do
And it was all yellow

Your skin
Oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
D'you know for you i bleed myself dry
For you i bleed myself dry

Its true look how they shine for you
look how they shine for you
look how they shine for you
look how they shine for you
look how they shine for you
look how they shine
look at the stars look how they shine for you.

-Yellow, by Coldplay

Late-night Musings

2006-09-03T03:36:34Z

Late-night musings
So it's eleven at night and everyone else is in bed, and I'm sitting on the couch in our friend's house on Block Island, where I'm to sleep for the night, with covers on me and not a light in the room but for my laptop screen and the sleep lights of various electronics around the room.

It's a bit creepy, really, using the laptop at night. The light is so bright in stark contrast to the pitch black of the room that it sort of makes your eyes hurt, especially on the paper white of the Xanga Weblog entry page. The light cancels out any sort of night vision we meak humans have, and anything beyond the edge of my laptop is a mystery. It is this sort of setup that inspires the midnight, or rather, latenight, musing.

But truly, there really is something to typing late at night. The muse is sort of...lit on fire, really. I should spend more time in the dark, because I feel really inspired right now. And it's bad, because I really should go to bed, and everyone else is getting ready, and this must be horrid for my eyes, but I can't stop.

I was talking to Emma earlier today. I was telling her, there's this girl visiting the friend's house I'm staying at. I've met her before, but I haven't seen her for about five years. She's a friend of my friend Chloe. And for some reason she really reminds me of Aylene. She's the same age, is athletic, and says "sweet" a lot, but other than that, I can't put a finger on it. There's just something that reminds me. And then I was thinking, you know what would be weird? If you were staying with a cousin or a close friend, and someone else came to visit, and you knew that person from real life. And what if there was like some drama between you and the other visiting person? Wouldn't that be weird? It would be so cool, though. I really want that to happen to me.

And then, because I was thinking of Aylene, I was thinking of camp and how much I miss it. It's weird how these things come in waves. I'll be sitting around, and then BOOM, and what do you know, all of a sudden I'm blasted back to the Grassy Knoll and the Lodge and the beach and Low Ropes, and Nature (Nate-cha!), and I can see it, and I can smell it, and I can hear it, and it's just so clear, and I think, why can't I be there now?

Life is really fucked up that way, you know? Like how when you want something most, you can't have it. And the one place you miss more than anything else is only open for eight weeks a year. And you want to fall in love, and then you do, but the person you're in love with lives far, far away, and you'll only ever see him once more, four or five years from your first meeting. Life has a way of tricking you, giving you what you want, but twisting it, so it ends up making you sad.

And you can never decide, you know? I really, really want to see everyone again, and I want to get back to the halls of Hunter and the smells of Ticonderoga pencils and lysol, and open new notebooks, and hang out on the steps and go out to lunch and just hang, you know? But I don't want to go back to classes, I don't want to spend another eight months of dragging my ass to hell and back, through the quagmire of paper and projects, and feel all depressed again. And I just want to go back to 4-H, and I live by the green band on my wrist. I just want to be everywhere you know?

And you think of all of the things you've seen,
And you wish that you could live in between,
And you're back again,
Only different than before,
After the sky.

There are Giants in the sky!
There are big tall terrible awesome scary wonderful
Giants in the sky!

Into the woods rocks. Emma and I used to sing that in the bathroom at 4-H, swear to God.

And then I just said God, and now I miss synagogue (yes, I miss synagogue). Holy fuck, I'm a mess. Why can't I ever stop missing everything?
Someday, when I'm old, I'm going to have to go back to all of the places in my life that I'm homesick for. Start at New York City, then England, and Block Island, and Sanibel, and the the Galapagos, oh god, the Galapagos, and 4-H, and Rome, and everywhere from there on, everywhere, everywhere, until I sit in my home and think of everywhere in my life I've been and what a totally sick ride it's been.

Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet!

To Ticonderoga Pencils, ripping music, and Corinthian columns!

2006-08-24T18:33:14Z

I'm feeling really happy and hyper for some reason, but I have no idea why. tee hee!

It's weird: I don't really want school to start but I really want see everyone and I want to go back to school shopping zomfg! I can't wait to get those new notebooks with that fresh new notebook smell and new, pretty ink. Oh, and the freshly sharpened ticonderoga pencils! That is the best smell on earth, I swear.

I have that starbucks frappacino ad jingle stuck in my head.

The Dandy Warhols make me happy.

I went to my cousin and her husband's apartment in Brooklyn on Sunday and ripped something like 580 of her songs. She has a HUGE music collection, and it's really good music, too. I've got a lot of the beatles, though she doesn't have magical mystery tour, which is one of my favorites, and the Dandy Warhols and the Doors and Simon and Garfunkel.

Simon and Garfunkel are the best to listen to late at night. They're like lullabies, all of them. I love that they actually sing and do harmony...that's what I miss about most of today's music.

Harmony (musical harmonies, NOT H/H ewwww)=luff.

I really want to get together with people, but everyone that lives in manhattan is away, and to go to queens or staten island or brooklyn or the bronx I need a parent. Suckiness.

Yesterday I went to my dad's office and hung out there for the day. He has a really cool office right now, lots of nice people. Well, he really only has four people working for him, and two of them are part time, but it's still really cool. We went to this really good Chinese restaurant for lunch with his entire office.

What's awesome is on the way to his office we went to J&R to get me an external hardrive for backing up stuff, and then on the way home we went to the Guitar Center, one of my favorite places on earth, where I got a new amp, since my old one was stolen, and a capo (yay capo luff) and a tuner, cuz I needed one.

I love the neighborhood down by my dad's office. He works way downtown, on broadstreet, and the architecture is so great down there. It's all federal so it's all very Greek and Roman looking. His office overlooks the Stock Exchange, which is a really gorgeous building with these really gorgeous Corinthian columns and this HUGE frieze in the pediment. I just wish they didn't have a huge american flag covering the columns. Then there's the Federal Reserve Bank, which is a beautiful, huge Renessaince style building, with all of this stone. And there's also this little building where George Washington was sworn into office that looks just like a Greek temple. I love that neighborhood's architecture to death.

There wasn't much to do at my dad's office so I drew a lot and managed to draw a decent representation of half my face (one eye, nose, mouth) using cross-hatching. Noses are wicked evil to draw. Eyes are so fun to draw. And then I drew my right hand a lot because I need practice drawing hands. Someday I'll scan the pictures and post them up here.

God I sound like such an art nerd in this post. Which of course I am. Holy cricket, how am I going to decide between art and music at the end of this year? I have no idea.

Me go now.

Hi!

2006-08-24T13:31:49Z

Hi! I have another blog on xanga (link to the left), so I probably won't be posting here as often. I use livejournal mainly for HP fanfiction communities <3 HP=Luff