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TONKS!


Sirius and James were wandering through Diagon Alley late in the afternoon on a Saturday late in August. James needed to buy a broomstick for the next term and Remus had been talked into going to the Tonks’s and baby sitting little Nymphadora for an evening so Ted and Andromeda could enjoy a night out together, and so Sirius was bored and never one to turn down a chance to look at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

They were kicking about, laughing and goofing off in the shops, getting kicked out of half of them (“stirring up the owls!” in Eyelops, “making too much noise!” in Flourish & Blott’s, “YOU AGAIN? Thought I’ve kicked you out once already!!!” in Nanny’s Knitting…) They stopped by Fortescue’s for a chocolate frog ice cream float and bought snap-poppers at the new branch of Zonko’s just opened up in Diagon Alley and were taking it in turns to chuck the poppers at each other’s feet and dancing before they could explode on their shoes and laughing as people glared or they banged into each other and nearly fell over trying to avoid the poppers. James was breathless with delight when Sirius tripped over his untied boot lace and landed arse-first in a giant cauldron outside a shop and couldn’t get himself out. James was laughing too hard to pull him out at first, and Sirius had kicked and fallen even further ‘til he was folded up like a knife, cursing and swearing, unable to pull his wand from his pocket for lack of mobility and James had laughed all the harder at the struggle…

When Sirius finally was yanked forth from the cauldron by a very disgruntled shopkeeper, he drew his wand and attempted at shooting spell at James that would give him an ass’s ears but James expertly dodged it by dancing into a shop which sold used items on consignment.

Sirius joined him inside. “Load of dusty old crap in here, huh?” he said, looking around, “Bloody hell, bet half this rubbish is older than the both of us combined.”

James snickered and they walked through the aisles looking at all the old rubbish - cauldrons with caked on years of potion making and slotted spoons made with silver so tarnished they looked like brass. There were old bewitched dolls and used postcards from all over the globe and shoeboxes full of old wizarding photographs that waved and jostled for attention, starved to be seen, for they’d been sitting in dusty attics for far too long unlooked at…

Sirius paused at a wide glass counter full of old jewelry and stared down at it, thinking he might like an earring for his ear - he’d seen it in one of his punk rock magazines and thought it was rather bad ass, and he was now fingering his earlobe as he poked through a bowl of single ear studs when he saw it.

“S’cuse me,” he called to the wizard that was dozing lazily behind the counter, a bottle of firewhiskey by his elbow. “S’cuse me, might I have a look at that.” He pointed, tapping the glass over the item he was interested in.

“Course…” the shop keeper stood up, wobbly, and meandered over. He struggled with some keys, which jangled loudly as he struggled with finding the key, trying several.

James came over with an old hat upon his head, red and grey tartan with a giant fluffy yarn pompom on top, and a pair of giant round sunglasses. “How do I look?” he asked.

“Fucking fabulous,” Sirius replied. “You should definitely get the hat. Wear it every day. I’ll look even more beautiful standing next to an arsehole wearing a hat like that.”

James smirked, “I was thinking of getting it for your birthday present.”

“Well, I mean… nothing is so ugly that my face couldn’t save it,” Sirius smirked. “I’ll make pompoms sexy again.”

James took the sunglasses off and folded them up as the old shopkeeper managed to find the key and open the case. He rammed his glasses up his nose. “What’re you looking at anyway?” he asked Sirius, leaning in as the shopkeeper leaned into the case and withdrew Sirius’s item.

It was a ruby, in a thick gold ring setting, with etchings on the sides that looked like dragon scales. James stared at it as Sirius plucked it from the little velvet finger shaped display piece that it was on and turned it over, feeling it’s weight and trying it on. It was too small for his ring finger but easily fit his baby finger loosely and he stared at it for a few moments, holding his hand out to judge it.

“What do you think of it?” he asked James.

“It’s not very you,” James answered, shrugging.

Sirius didn’t seem deterred by that. He turned it over. “Is this a real ruby?” he asked the old man.

The man shrugged.

“How much?”

“Seventy-five galleons,” the old man answered.

“Galloping gargoyles,” James murmured. “For a bloody ring?”

The man shrugged.

Sirius stared at it. “Would you take fifty?”

“Fifty! Bleedin’ rippin’ me off- I’ll go as low as seventy.”

“How about sixty?”

“Sixty-five and not a knut less!”

Sirius pulled out his coin purse.

James looked astounded, “Sixty-five galleons for a bloody ring, Sirius?”

Sirius said, “It’s worth it.”

James shook his head in disbelief, “The bleedin’ hat’s only three sickles!”

“I’ll throw the hat in,” said the old man. “Just to get the bleedin’ thing off my shelves.”

“Hear that, Prongs?” Sirius said, “You can keep your fabulous headwear. Consider it a belated birthday present from me.” He snickered.

“I shall wear it always,” James replied.

When the man had packaged up the ring in a tiny black box and Sirius had finished counting out the galleons, they left the shop, Sirius tucking the ring into his leather jacket’s pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “You aren’t even going to wear it? You drop sixty-five galleons on a bloody ring and you don’t even put it on?”

Sirius shrugged.

They stood on the corner by Gringott’s and Sirius used his wand to light the cigarette, taking a long drag and looking around, exhaling the smoke, as James ran his hand through his hair.

“It’s for Remus isn’t it?” James asked.

Sirius took another long drag from the cigarette.

But a smile curved his lips.




“Nymphadora! Your nose, please.”

“I want to be a duck!” complained Nymphadora, frowning, her voice coming out muffled from behind the half-beak that stuck out from her face over her pouting lips.

Andromeda said, “Well you’ll need to be a little girl for now, please. You can be a duck another time.”

“Yeee-ees mummy.” And with a pop, her nose returned to her normal little girl nose.

“We won’t be gone too long,” said Ted.

Remus put his book down on the table and said, “It’s okay. I haven’t got anywhere to be.”

Remus smiled as Nymphadora ran over to him, held up her arms, begging to be lifted up. Remus bent down and wrapped his arms about her and she wrapped her arms around his neck and put wet kisses across his cheek. “Reeeemus,” she cooed.

“Hullo Nymphadora,” he said. “We’ll have a good deal of fun, yeah?”

“Yes!” she yelled and as she did, her hair popped from brown to pink.

“Hair, Nymphadora.”

“Yeeee-ees mummy.” Pop! Brown again.

Ted Tonks handed Remus a parchment. “This is where we’re going, if you need anything at all, just send a patronus… you can cast a patronus, can’t you? Fabian Prewett said --”

“Yeah, I can,” Remus said. “And I know loads of shield charms and antichoking charms and healing spells, just in case. But we’ll be okay. If nothing else, we’re only a quick floo from Mr. and Mrs. Potter and Ned Veigler.”

“Good point, good point,” Ted nodded, holding up a shawl for Andromeda, who spun into the shawl and pulled it close to her. She leaned over and kissed Nymphadora’s cheek. “Let’s go dear,” Ted said.

The moment Ted and Andromeda had left, Nymphadora popped and her nose burst into the duck beak. She looked at Remus and giggled, her eyes twinkling.

Remus laughed. “Very good beak, Nymphadora.”

“No! Not Nymphadora!” she cried.

“No? But that’s your name.”

“No!”

“Alright then. So what do I call you?” Remus asked.

“QUACK!”

“Oh dear, your bill’s made you speak duckish!” Remus said.

“QUACK QUACK QUACK!”

Remus smiled and patted her hair as he put her down and she made her hair turn yellow and jumped away, flapping her arms as she waddled about the room, smiling as Remus laughed and followed after her, singing the little song that Bradley had taught him back in January on a night of the full moon, “Ten little ducks, sitting in the water… ten little ducks, doing what they oughtta…” Nymphadora giggled and turned to Remus suddenly, and he scooped her up into his arms. “There you are, little duck.”

“No!”

“No?”

“Not Little Duck!”

“Alright, so what shall I call you?” he repeated.

Nymphadora thought a long moment, then shouted, “TONKS!”

“Tonks?”

“Tonks!”

“Alright, then. Tonks it is.” He smiled. Then… “Would you like a piggy-back ride, Tonks?”

“Yes!”

He put her down on the couch and she stood, bouncing on the cushions, as Remus turned about and bent a little bit, “Hop aboard.”

She leaped onto him, wrapping her arm about his neck and her legs around his torso. “TONKS!” she yelled, pressing her face into the back of his hair.

Remus laughed and held her legs as he hopped about the room. There was a pop and Remus glanced over his shoulder to see Nymphadora wore a piggy nose on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. “You’re silly, Tonks,” Remus said.

“You be an animal, too!” commanded Tonks.

“What animal shall I be?” he asked.

“You pick!”

Remus thought a moment, then he said, “Alright… I’ll be a wolf.”

“I’LL BE A WOLF TOO!” she yelled and with a pop she had two pointy little ears on her head and her nose was back to normal. She giggled. “What do wolfs do?”

“They howl,” Remus said.

“Howl?”

Remus nodded, “Like this -- arrooo!”

“ARROOO!” Tonks cried.

Remus smiled and he ran about the room, carrying Tonks on his back, both of them playing at howling and laughing as they went, Tonks kicking her legs in the air and clinging onto Remus’s shoulders.