Knit Me A Pony: Status Message Here

Vi in email: Since I know there are some Harry/Tonks shippers around here… some regular canon Harry/Tonks. :)

“Ow!”  I winced as she prodded at the cut on my arm.  ”Careful!  Walking wounded here.”

“I have never,” she said with a grin, “seen someone so bad on a broom.  That wasn’t just bad, Harry.  That was spectacular.”

“Thanks a pantload.”  Honestly, I’d be in a much worse mood if we hadn’t actually managed to win the day.  It’d been a long shot — when wasn’t it, really? — but somehow I’d managed to make it to the top of the Hancock, subdue some snaky bastards, avoid releasing the honest-to-god dragon they’d brought with them, and get back down again with only some rather spectacularly colored bruising to show for it.

It was the ride home that’d been really dangerous; we realized we hadn’t gotten them all when they started shooting spells at us, and I ended up having to launch myself into the air from the roof of the Blue Beetle and pray I’d remembered enough of my last-minute broom lessons to not get myself killed.

It was lucky I’d had the lessons, really, or the broom at all.  I still wasn’t quite sure where in the hell Tonks had come from, but man was I glad she’d been along for the ride.

“You managed to catch the broom on fire,” she laughed and carefully lined up her wand with my wound.  ”Hold still, will you?  Episkey!”

I yelped and hopped up, rubbing my arm.  I could feel my skin knitting back together — man was that creepy — but after a minute it settled down and so did I.  ”The hell was that?”

She wrinkled her nose at me, trying not to laugh again.  ”Field medicine 101.  Don’t they teach you anything at Salem?”

“I didn’t go to Salem.”  I hadn’t even heard of Salem, but I was trying to look like slightly less of an idiot than I was.  

“… don’t tell me you went to Portland.”  She flopped down on my couch and pried her boots off with her toes.  ”They’re really weird in Portland, and that’s coming from me.”

“I didn’t go to Portland.  I didn’t go anywhere, honestly.”

That got her to look up.  ”You didn’t?”  She gave me a puzzled look.  

“I learned from books, mostly.  Just me and Uncle Creepy.  And Bob.”

“Bob-in-the-skull Bob?”

“Yep.”

She grinned at me.  ”That explains so much.”

I snorted and got us a couple of beers from the ‘fridge, flopping down next to her without changing my shirt.  I didn’t think she’d mind the missing sleeve.  ”Yeah?  Like what?”

“Like you being weirder than Portland.”  She shoved me with her shoulder and lifted her bottle of beer to me.  I clinked mine against hers and we both drank half our bottles down in one go.  ”So you trust Bob, do you?”

“Mostly.  About magic.”  I lifted my eyebrows.  ”Why, did he say something?”

“Yep.”  I swear she waited for me to take another drink before she added, “he said he thinks I’m a sexy witch.”

I choked and nearly spit out the beer; she laughed and thumped me on the back a couple of times until I got my breath back.

“He, uh, does?”  She just grinned.  ”So, er, well.  I mean, not that I usually take his advice about dating.  Just, that, uh.  He is right.”  

She must’ve taken pity on me or something, because she didn’t laugh this time, just leaned in and kissed me, leaning on the hand she put on my thigh.  I gotta say, it was a hell of a kiss, too.  I didn’t even realize until she pulled away that my hand was in her hair and I’d managed to tip over my beer on my jeans.

“Crap!” I rescued the bottle and jumped up to shake off my pants, nearly headbutting Tonks; she managed to duck out of the way but fell off the couch in the process.  ”I… sorry.  Did I get any on you? I mean, are you…” I realized she was laughing again and felt myself turn a little red. “I’m really bad at this,” I said, “I’ve just, it’s been a while — it’s usually been a while — and you’re…”  I give up.  ”Hi,” I said, finally.  ”I’m a complete idiot.”

“Wotcher, Harry,” she said cheerfully from the floor.  ”Do you have a bed?”

“Yes, actually.” I am the luckiest son of a bitch alive, I swear.  ”Yes.”

“Think we can get there without killing ourselves?”

I snorted.  ”Maybe.  I mean, it’s probably about fifty feet.”

“Let’s give it a go.”  She put down her beer and let me help her up — all the way up ‘til she had an arm around my shoulders and kissed me again.

“Mmmkay,” I said. “But if we die I get to say I told you so.”