Saturday, October 2, 1993
(Nymphadora Tonks)
Rest days were supposed to be relaxing.
In practice, they were just long stretches of time where I had nothing to do but exist with my thoughts, which was frankly dangerous. So there I was, sprawled face-down across the sofa in my parents' living room, one leg hanging over the armrest, hair a dull, depressed shade of brown instead of its usual defiant pink. The cushions smelled faintly of old books and my dad's pipe smoke, comforting in a way that only childhood homes ever were.
The clink of cutlery and the smell of toast drifted over from the dining table.
Mum and Dad were having breakfast like it was any other perfectly normal Saturday morning. Eggs, tea, the Daily Prophet folded neatly beside Dad's plate. The unfairness of it all made me groan into the cushion.
"Nymphadora," Mum said, turning in her chair to look at me over her teacup, "are you sure you don't want to eat anything?"
I waved a hand weakly without lifting my face. "Don't call me that," I muttered into the sofa.
Normally, her use of that name would have earned her an angry look, or at least a snarky comeback. Today, though, I couldn't even muster the energy for proper indignation.
Mum noticed.
One perfectly groomed eyebrow rose, sharp and knowing. "That was… lacklustre," she observed. "Have you been dumped again?"
That did it.
I shot upright so fast the sofa springs squeaked in protest. "I do not get dumped," I snapped. "I do the dumping. Because the stupid arseholes always ask me to transform into someone else!"
My voice cracked on the last word, which was deeply embarrassing.
Dad lowered his paper slowly, peering at me over the top of it. "Then what is it, Dora?" he asked gently.
I collapsed back onto the sofa, rolling onto my back and staring up at the ceiling like it had personally betrayed me. "It's an idiot," I declared. "An idiot who promised me a date. Said he'd owl me. That was on Monday." I threw my arms wide in dramatic despair. "It's already Saturday, but still nothing."
I grabbed a pillow and shoved it over my face. "I don't even know why I care so much. We only had lunch once."
Mum's laughter was soft, amused, and entirely unhelpful. "That doesn't sound like 'only lunch' to me."
My voice came out muffled and defensive from beneath the pillow. "We met at the Ministry when I tripped," I said. "And he caught me. Twice. On the same day. Can you believe that?" I rolled slightly, the pillow slipping just enough for me to glare at the ceiling. "It was like fate was shoving us together."
"Nymphadora," Mum said dryly, "you trip several times a day. Statistically speaking, that hardly qualifies as fate."
Dad chuckled into his tea. "She's got a point, you know."
I growled in frustration and flung the pillow across the room, where it bounced harmlessly off a chair.
They didn't get it.
They hadn't been there when his arms caught me, steady and warm, like I'd never been in danger of falling at all. When he'd looked down at me with those unfairly beautiful blue eyes and smiled like I was the most interesting thing in the room.
My heart had nearly beaten its way out of my chest.
I'd never felt anything like that before. Not even with my first boyfriend.
The sound of beating wings interrupted my spiraling thoughts. An owl swooped smoothly through the warded owl window, feathers rustling as it landed with practiced ease.
I barely glanced at it. "Probably the paper," I muttered.
Mum stood, smoothing her robes, and took the package from the owl. She fed it a strip of bacon absently, her attention already on the letter attached. "To my lovely Tonksie," she read aloud, squinting slightly.
She turned to Dad with a raised brow. "I hope this isn't for you, dear."
Dad lifted both hands immediately. "Not me, I swear."
"Well," Mum said, already breaking the seal, "I suppose I'll find out."
"No."
The word came out strangled and panicked.
I launched myself off the sofa, immediately catching my foot on the edge of the rug. The world tilted, and I hit the floor on my hands and knees with a thud.
"Wait, Mum… stop! That's mine!"
She leaned back casually, entirely unfazed, and I sailed right past her, landing face-first on the floor again.
"Mum!" I yelped.
She cleared her throat and began reading anyway.
"Dear Tonksie," she read aloud, voice perfectly composed. "I apologise for the delay, but I wanted to make sure absolutely everything was perfect before contacting you."
My heart was in my throat.
"Turns out reservations for L'enchantement were full until next year," she continued, "so I had to ask for a favour from one of my mentors. He managed to secure a private booth for later this same day."
I froze on the floor.
"The package contains a dress appropriate for the occasion," Mum read on, "and a timed international Portkey to the restaurant itself. It will activate exactly at eight p.m., so do make sure to be ready before then."
Her voice softened just slightly.
"With love, Lord Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, First Class."
I didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't exist properly again until Mum let out a delighted squeal as she opened the package.
"Oh my goodness," she said.
I scrambled to my feet and stared.
The dress was stunning. Deep gothic purple, rich and elegant, with black accents that framed the waist and neckline perfectly. The fabric shimmered softly in the light. Beneath it lay matching shoes and a black choker that made my fingers itch to put it on immediately.
Very me.
Mum turned to me, eyes bright. "Oh, Dora," she said. "This is lovely."
Dad leaned over to inspect it, nodding reluctantly. "I don't like this Lockhart fellow much," he admitted, "but I can't deny he's got excellent taste."
Mum shot him a look. "And he got a reservation at the best restaurant in the world," she added pointedly. "You don't even take me out on simple dates anymore."
Dad coughed into his tea. "Well… that seems unfair."
I just stood there, staring at the dress, my heart racing, my hair flickering back toward pink all on its own.
He hadn't forgotten.
He hadn't stood me up.
And in a few hours…
I was going on a real date.
With Gilderoy Lockhart.
And suddenly, lying listlessly on the sofa felt like a lifetime ago.
…