Dear Boy
Tonks stared down at the blank piece of paper in front of her. She put her quill on the paper, shook her head, and put the quill down. She had been trying for hours - hours and hours on end - and no words had come. She bit her nails and ran her fingers through her hair. She picked up her quill again.
Dear Remus,
She stared at it and placed down her quill. After five minutes of looking at her handwriting she slowly lifted the paper, crumpled it up, and threw it at her door. It hadn't felt right the other twelve times she had written it down. Tonks sighed and put her elbows on her desk and stared at the candle in front of her. The fire danced and wax slipped down the sides. Suddenly, she straightened up.
Dear Boy,
Tonks smiled and stared at it, wondering vaguely how long it would take her to hate this beginning to her letter. She waited. She waited and waited wondering, watching. The candle beside her grew lower by the minute. Tonks smiled. She liked this beginning. She ripped the page in two and grabbed another sheet. She needed to start over fresh and go- nonstop.
Dear Boy,
Let's pretend I do not know you. That seems to be your approach now, so I'd like to try that too.
Let me introduce myself.
My name is Tonks, although I know that you will grow to call me by the first name: Nymphadora. I have no idea why you would want to, it bothers me very much, but you will. And just to let you know, Boy, I'll like it. So when we do meet and you do call me Nymphadora I just want to let you know that I do kind of like it. A little. But you will be the only one who can call me Nymphadora. Anyone else will be cursed into next Tuesday. And if it is Sunday or Monday then they will be hexed appropriately.
The second thing I would like you to know about me is that I'm dreadfully clumsy. And I hope that you won't mind. I hope- I'll always hope- that's you'll kind of like it. And I'm sorry if I spill butterbeer all over your robes. Because I only do that because I'm nervous. Talking to people like you always makes me nervous. Especially when you smile. It kind of makes me even clumsier.
Not that I know you, or anything. According to you we haven't met yet.
I also hope, Boy, that even if we fight I want you to know that I'll miss you. I always miss everyone. Like about a year ago I lost my second cousin, and this year I've lost a lot of my friends. And I've had my share of fights with a lot of people. And I still miss them. Especially everyone that's died. I still cry about them sometimes. So just so you know, Boy, I'll always miss you. I mean, if we knew each other now and we had, for some strange reason, gotten into a fight, I would miss you. A lot. Because I miss everyone. I'm so scared that someday I'll be alone, and now more then ever- with the war and all, I feel so horrified that I might end up alone. I hope that I'll get to meet you.
You know, I'd also like to tell you something more about me. If I were to meet the perfect man, he would be
Tonks paused, her quill hovering over the parchment. She knew that she couldn't stop. If she stopped, she would lose track of her thoughts. Grabbing another piece of parchment and putting it over her letter, she wrote down everything she wanted to write about very briefly and also scribbled some useless information to keep her mind going. Like what she had eaten for breakfast. She looked at her thoughts for a moment, nodded, and placed the sheet to the side. She then stared at the remains of her letter. She quickly considered writing 'The ideal man would be 13 ½ years older then me, poor as dirt, and a werewolf.'
She quickly figured that this would not bring across the point that she wanted.
She closed her eyes and tried to think of what she did want in a man. But all she could see was Remus.
All she ever saw was Remus.
She glanced over to look at her list of what she had eaten for breakfast. It hit her then, looking at the messily scrawled 'toast and cereal with bananas."
What if they were together? She nodded and dipped her quill back in her ink. Tonks re-read the line she had written and dived back in to her letter.
If I were to meet the perfect man, he would remember that I like white chocolate better then dark or milk and he would remember that I always celebrate my birthday on a Monday even if it's on another day. And he would remember that I did this to make my Mondays happier. He would also be able to make me feel better when I was sad and not be shy to hold me in public. He would know that sometimes I need to be alone. And you know, I would really like him to smile a lot. That would be nice.
He wouldn't mind that I was clumsy either. Maybe he'd laugh at me sometimes, but he'd know how to stop. And you know Boy, I've dated a lot of guys like me. Funny and loud and wild. But you know? I actually kind of like guys that aren't like me. Because, just so you know, I only act like that because I don't really know how to act.
But the thing is, I wouldn't care if the man ended up to be nothing like this. Or if he was dangerous with about a million reasons to stay away from me. He could be Voldemort. Because if I loved him, then that would be all that mattered.
Because I would love him. And no matter what, I would love him. He could be evil, ugly, arrogant, because if I loved him then there must be something behind all of that. There must be some good behind his spirit.
Not that I'm saying that I love Voldemort, or anything.
Because, Boy, I kind of...I kind of love you
And no matter what you say, or what anyone else says, I always will.
She stared at her parchment, once again at a loss for words Then she saw that she had nothing more to say.
You might feel weird because we've never met before. But we will. And when we do, I just want you to know. Everything.
N. Tonks
She blinked and looked at the end. She had finished it. For some reason she had expected some sort of explosion. Sighing and looking depressedly at her mousey brown locks, she folded up her two page letter and called her owl over.
"Take this to Remus, all right?" She rolled it up and tied it to its leg. As Coruja flew out the window she slumped forward on her desk and blew out the candle, which was now nothing more then a puddle of wax.
A/N: Wrote this oneshot to keep all my wonderful readers from stangling me while I go on hiatus this Thanksgiving Weekend.
This was based on Dear Boy / Dear Girl in the Chicken Soup books. (gotta love those...) And it kind of grew into something else. A sequel titled "Dear Girl" will be coming soon.
Happy Thankgiving!!!