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Oct. 5th, 2022 07:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
metamorphicalDay passes into the evening quietly on the street with the accidental numbering convention, sunlight receding upon Numbers 11 and 13 just as it does any old evening. But there, snuggled just as it should be, good old Number 12 is also sitting there in the dusk hours. People just didn't know it. They didn't see it. Unless, of course, they knew what they should be seeing.
A currently blonde-haired woman stands in front of the empty space, ignored just as much as the invisible house is, and thinks about exactly what she should be seeing. After a moment, it's as if the small area yawns wide open, spitting out 12 Grimmauld Place as it does.
The door opens, allowing her entrance, and a gruff old man greets the woman with a grunt. "Wotcher, Mad Eye!" She replies cheerfully, scooting past him in a blithe manner and proceeding promptly to be tripped up by an old (and ugly as sin) umbrella stand fashioned from what looks like a troll's leg. "Rude, that, isn't it?"
Moody rolls his good eye, the magical one remaining on the youthful Auror as she straightens herself and motions that she should follow him for the grand tour. "Tonks, the wretched house. Kitchen's there. Don't break things." That is the end of Moody's grand tour as he points down the hall and towards the kitchen. Tonks, undaunted by her mentor's attitude, grins and heads down the direction he pointed in.
As she moves down the hall, only minding the wall after bumping into it already, she enters the kitchen and takes a good look around. Grimmauld Place is something out of half-told stories from her childhood. It doesn't seem as scary now that she's older. Only sadder. Pity.
A currently blonde-haired woman stands in front of the empty space, ignored just as much as the invisible house is, and thinks about exactly what she should be seeing. After a moment, it's as if the small area yawns wide open, spitting out 12 Grimmauld Place as it does.
The door opens, allowing her entrance, and a gruff old man greets the woman with a grunt. "Wotcher, Mad Eye!" She replies cheerfully, scooting past him in a blithe manner and proceeding promptly to be tripped up by an old (and ugly as sin) umbrella stand fashioned from what looks like a troll's leg. "Rude, that, isn't it?"
Moody rolls his good eye, the magical one remaining on the youthful Auror as she straightens herself and motions that she should follow him for the grand tour. "Tonks, the wretched house. Kitchen's there. Don't break things." That is the end of Moody's grand tour as he points down the hall and towards the kitchen. Tonks, undaunted by her mentor's attitude, grins and heads down the direction he pointed in.
As she moves down the hall, only minding the wall after bumping into it already, she enters the kitchen and takes a good look around. Grimmauld Place is something out of half-told stories from her childhood. It doesn't seem as scary now that she's older. Only sadder. Pity.
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Date: 2022-10-11 05:51 am (UTC)wide eyed and, truthfully, curious.
"Back when you repeated your name." She should have the grace to look sheepish about it, but doesn't. Instead, she states that piece of information simply. After her initial determination, Tonks had already deemed the fact that Remus is a werewolf as simply that. A fact. She still doesn't know him, of course, but already he's infinitely better than those awful books in her youth made werewolves out to be.
Without really thinking about it, she reaches out and taps his hand gently. "The same goes for you. I know I won't fully get it--" She doesn't presume that their situations are at all the same. But she doesn't think they're entirely dissimilar either. "But I'll hopefully be able to relate, yeah? And remind you that we are who we are, what we are. But that's not the entirety of us."