lunation (lunation) wrote,
lunation
lunation

unfinished fic: "feign" [lupin/tonks, 1997]


She places her hand up to the foggy window and spreads her fingers, her palm cool against the glass. When she removes it, the night shines in, and she can see through the moisture; the world outside is blue, and while the moon is stationary, telephone poles fly by, momentarily obstructing it and the small assortment of surrounding stars.

Occasionally she'll glance at Remus, whose dark eyes are fixed on the road ahead.

The white, long-sleeved shirt he wears makes him look dreadfully old, she thinks - maybe due to the fact that the color seems too clean on him. The flecks of gray in his hair and off-colored scars on his face aren't so noticeable when contrasted with threads in a sweater or a pattern of some sort. She feels guilty for thinking such things, and shifts in her seat nervously.

He casts a sidelong glance at her and she smiles slightly. He smiles back.

This will be a long trip, she decides.

Leaving was not her idea, anyway. After Harry had gotten settled into Grimmauld and insisted he didn't need any help from them, Remus had decided that they needed to get away for a while. He said something like, "The world won't crumble if we can't be reached for a few weeks," and she'd barely had time to consent before he was packing his bags and tossing her things into a pile, too. It wasn't like Remus to be impulsive, so she didn't dare negate his plan.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, causing her to flinch, "Because I-"

"No," she interrupts. "No thanks, I mean. Feel a bit queasy actually," she admits.

Remus' brow furrows and he eases the old Impala onto the side of the road.

A chorus of cicadas swell as they are suddenly still in the night, closed in by pasture upon pasture and a sky that is even more expansive.

"I don't mean for this to be like bloody Lolita. We can go home right now if you just aren't feeling up to it. I don't even recall you even saying yes, actually. And if you aren't happy, I," Lupin lifts his hands from the steering wheel to make some sort of gesture, but replaces them instead. "You should be happy, Tonks," he says quietly, regarding her with a look that makes her cringe internally.

"We should be happy, you mean," she corrects, scooting over on the cool vinyl seat to lean against him.

Neither of them bring up the war. It has only been a few months since Harry defeated Voldemort like everyone had hoped he would, and the trip to America is in part because reconstruction is going more smoothly there. In the midwest, there are no craters where someone was blown to bits - no houses reduced to rubble or cars with gnarled fronts and shattered windshields. The trees aren't uprooted in places, and the faces on the people they pass aren't haunted at all. Many families are without the fathers, sisters, cousins who went to Britain when things became dire, but there is no physical evidence of battle having taken place.

Regardless, it is not easy to forget what home looks like.

Remus breathes quietly, slides his arm around her.

"Don't worry, Humbert - I don't feel too trapped," she says, leaning over to kiss his neck.

"Yes, well, I had a feeling you liked the abuse. I just didn't want to say it."

The cicadas give it a rest for a moment.

"What do you say we find a dicey motel and call it a night?" Remus asks. "I think there's some sort of massive ball of twine in the next town. We can catch that in the morning on the way to something even more ridiculous."

[La la more later.]

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