Fic Challenge

[author_by_night]

Crossposted to writing_challenge.

 

 

 

            Dora Tonks was sick of everything.

            I’m thirteen bloody years old, she thought to herself. But Mum seems to think I’m still five.

            That morning, she had had another fight with Andromeda, her Mother. All she’d asked was if she could visit her friend, Hestia Jones, for a week.

            But of course, it didn’t work. Even though Hestia’s older sister would be there while their parents were at work, Andromeda had said no, Dora was too young.

            Dora knew it seemed petty, but it was not the real reason for her deciding she’d had enough. It was just a small nudge that finally set her off.     

            Dora was sick of her Mother hiding things from her about her family, just because she thought her daughter couldn’t handle it. She was sick of Andromeda panicking if Dora forgot to send her a letter (she was supposed to send two a week). She was sick of still not being allowed out after dark (unless her father was home, he always intervened). And, most of all, she was still upset about having only found out where her favorite person, Sirius Black, had gone when hearing the story of how he’d blown up a street of muggles in her second year.

            If Mum can’t trust me, I’ll just leave, Dora thought to herself. Go where she’ll never find me.  I’ll go back to Hogwarts and find reasons not to come home for vacations – or I’ll just teach myself magic.

            Dora waited until she knew her parents would have left for work, and then began throwing her things into a pink backpack she’d gotten from when they had gone camping the summer before with Nanny and Granddad Tonks.

            Dora grabbed food, and then closed her eyes. She felt thin brown hair reach the tip of her shoulders, replacing her thick black hair. Her eyes went from being small and dark brown to large and green, and her heart-shaped face became more circular.

            “They won’t even know it’s me,” Dora told herself.

            She left the house, and jumped on her bike. It had taken her a few years to learn to keep her balance on it, but she was pretty good now.  

            After what seemed like an hour, passing through several neighborhoods and one or two main streets, Dora realized she had no idea where she was going. She couldn’t head towards Hestia’s; there was no way Andromeda wouldn’t try her there.

            I’ll go to Diagon Alley, Dora reasoned. I can use different disguises.

            Dora was about to stop when a ball flew at her, and she fell on someone’s lawn.

            “Oh, no! I’m sorry!” A young voice cried.

            Dora stood up, and saw a blue plastic ball rolling towards the road; she grabbed it quickly, and handed it back to the little boy.

            He was on the chubby side, and Dora figured he had to be about five or six.

            “Thanks,” the boy said, taking the ball. “I’m sorry, the ball got away.”

            “It’s okay, really,” Dora reassured him.

            The boy smiled, and Dora had to smile back; she enjoyed seeing an innocent smile for the first time all summer.

            The boy looked at her wand. “Oh! You’re a…” he looked around, and broke into a whisper. “A witch?”

            Dora nodded. “Yeah. So… why are you playing alone?” It had occurred to her he was a little young to be doing so.

            “Well, Gran got her friend’s granddaughter to watch me, but she’s talking to her boyfriend,” the boy explained.

            Dora frowned, feeling that was rather irresponsible. “And how old is she?”

            “Umm… she’s been out of Hogwarts for a few years,” the boy replied.

            “Unbelievable,” Dora muttered.

            The boy looked confused. “What is?”

            “Oh – just that she wouldn’t want to play with you,” Dora explained.

            “She’s not very nice anyway,” the boy said quickly.

            Dora decided they’d better change the subject before she stormed into the house and gave the “baby-sitter” some advice. “So, what’s your name?”

            The boy hesitated. “Can I give you a pretend name?”

            “Of course!” Dora replied, grinning.

            A smile crept on the boy’s face. “Um… Frank.”

            “I like that name,” Dora said. “Mine’s Dora. Well, Nymphadora, but it’s an ugly name, so…”

            “I like it,” Frank remarked.

            Dora had to smile. “Thanks, wish I did.”

            “Where were you going?” Frank asked suddenly.

            “I was running away,” Dora blurted, perhaps out of frustration at the thought of her Mother.

            Why on earth did I let that out? She thought to herself, wanting to give the other leg a good kick.

            Frank’s eyes had widened. “But… why?”

            Dora paused. “My Mum and I aren’t getting alone anymore.”

            “Why?” Frank asked again.

            “It’s complicated,” Dora said.

            “Don’t say that!” Frank whined suddenly.

            Dora jumped, taken aback. “What?”

            “Everyone says that now! I’m sick of hearing it.”

            Dora felt a strange sense of familiarity; it was as if he’d told her what she wanted to tell her Mum.

            “I’m sorry,” Dora said gently. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

            “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t have to yell at you,” Frank mumbled.

            “But you had a point,” Dora said. “I hate being told things are complicated, too; it was wrong of me to say that.”

            “So tell,” Frank said.

            “Basically,” Dora continued, “Mum doesn’t tell me things I deserve to know, and she doesn’t let me do things I should be allowed to do.”

            “Does she know you?” Frank asked.

            Dora stared. “Of course.”

            “My Mummy doesn’t know me,” Frank informed her. “Daddy doesn’t, either.”

            “They don’t?” Dora asked, confused.

            Frank shook his head. “Granny says they are sick.”

            Dora’s heart plummeted to her stomach. “Oh, Frank…”

            Here she had been, all upset because her Mother was a little protective. But she would rather not be told anything, and have her mother be able to know her and acknowledge her, than to be told everything in the world, and yet not be able to be recognized by her own Mum.

            “It’s okay… I am hoping they’ll get better,” Frank said.

            “I hope so too,” Dora said.

            Suddenly, a young woman walked out. Dora realized she knew her from Hogwarts – she’d been in Gryffindor as well, a seventh year when Dora had started.

            “Neville Longbottom, what are you doing?” The woman shouted.

            “I want to know what you’re doing,” Dora retorted.

            “Neville, go inside,” the woman said.

            Neville nodded. “It was nice meeting you,” he told Dora.

            Dora smiled. “It was nice meeting you too, Neville.”

            “Now!” The baby-sitter snapped.

            Neville went inside, and the baby-sitter went to go inside; however, Dora stopped her.

            “What do you want?” She snapped.

            Dora suddenly remembered the name of the girl: Collette Sawyer.

            “Yes,” Dora said. “Listen, why weren’t you watching him?”

            “I most certainly was!” Collette snapped.

            “Then why was he playing alone? Is he older than he looks?” Dora asked.

            “He’s nearly six, that’s old enough,” Collette insisted.

            “Not by the road it’s not,” Dora said. “At least, not while you’re talking to your boyfriend, and not even paying attention.”

            “What do you care?” Collette asked angrily.

            “I care because I think you ought to get to know Neville,” Dora said firmly. “He taught me something today, maybe you’ll learn someting too.”

            Collette rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

            “Treat him like a human being, not like a hamster you have to feed occasionally,” Dora said sternly. “Got it?”

            Collette sighed. “Whatever. Fine.”

            Dora turned around, got on her bike, and headed home without a second thought.

 

Ten years later

            Dora was on her bed, reading Witch Weekly. She was rather bored, as she didn’t have any company; everyone was either at work, or doing Order stuff.

            Dora stood up, and stretched; she felt she was well enough to go home, having been there for two days, but the Healers had insisted she stay one more, just to be safe.

            I suppose they’re right, Dora thought to herself.

            Dora sat down, and sighed. Inside, she knew she needed the break. Especially now…

            Damn it, Sirius, Dora thought bitterly. A tear suddenly fell, and she brushed it away.

            Her thoughts traveled to the events of the past few days; they seemed blurred together. How had she been at her cousin’s side one minute, then wake up the next to find he was gone?

            However, there was one thing that occasionally distracted Dora – a boy that had been with Harry. He had looked awfully familiar… like a boy Dora had met years before.

            “Was it Neville?” Dora wondered aloud, not for the first time. She would have to ask Remus… but not yet. She didn’t want to talk about the Department of Mysteries, because discussing it made the matter of Sirius’s death flood back too quickly. And there were other reasons Dora knew she, of all people, might not want to be caught showing interest…

            As if on cue, the doors opened, and the very boy who had been at the Department of Mysteries walked in.

            “Dora?” Neville asked.

            Dora grinned. “So it was you.”

            Neville laughed. “Yes, it was. Are you okay?”

            Dora hesitated. “I’ve been better, but I’m okay. And… are you?”

            “Yeah,” Neville said. “So… who are you? I mean… are you part of Dumbledore’s….”

            “I’m an Auror,” Dora explained. “And-” Dora looked around carefully, and said in a whisper, “-yes, I work for Dumbledore.”

            “So did I, in a way,” Neville said. “When I wasn’t supposed to.”

            Dora smiled. “Good.”

            “So… how have you been?” Neville asked.

            “I’ve been okay,” Dora replied. “And you?”

            “Not bad,” Neville smiled.

            “I’m surprised you even remembered me,” Dora remarked.

            “Me too,” Neville admitted. “But… well, I suppose I remembered because it was sort of nice to have someone talk to me as an equal, for once.”

            “I never thought of not doing so,” Dora said firmly.

            “Did you ever really run away?” Neville asked suddenly.

            Dora laughed. “No, I went straight home… I have to thank you for that, actually. You really did knock sense into me.”

            “Anytime,” Neville said. “And you let me know there was always someone who did care.”

            The two long lost friends smiled, and began catching up, and found that, although they had only met for the second time, they knew quite a lot about one another, perhaps more than anyone else.

            In a time of war and betrayal, such a connection is rather sacred.

           

           

           

 

Comments

[leapin-jot.livejournal.com]

Dora felt a strange sense of familiarity; it was as if he’d told her what she wanted to tell her Mum.

I love that line. It looks like you've made some improvements too. Great Job, Amy!

[harriet-wimsey.livejournal.com]

I don't know the context of this challenge, but when "Frank" mentioned that Gran said Mummy and Daddy were sick, I realized that it was Neville and my heart broke for him all over again. I had to explain to my roommate, who has never read Harry Potter, why I gasped. That aside, I liked the story.

[iulia_linnea.livejournal.com]

That was very sweet, satisfying gen. :)

[kasuchi]

I knew it was Neville as soon as he said "Gran".

That was sweet (in a non-fluffy way) and touching. I love pieces like this. Thank you for this.

[author-by-night.livejournal.com]

Thanks! :)

[prplhez8.livejournal.com]

A -

What a truly touching story! Neville can be such an overlooked canon character - people tend to make him wimpy and pathetic...but not you! You have made him endearing, likeable, brave and heartfelt. Dora Tonx is, as usual, spunky and against the grain. I loved how you tied these two lives together so many years ago, only to find one another again at the MoM battle. Well done, my friend, well done!

-prplhez8

[author-by-night.livejournal.com]

Thanks! :)


And OT, but is that supposed to be Remus smoking, or do I just think it looks like David Thewlis?

[prplhez8.livejournal.com]

*hehehehee*

You bet your little bippy that is Remus Lupin aka David Thewlis... *sigh*

:)

[olympe-maxime.livejournal.com]

I'm over here from the writing challeng community... Just posted mine there 2 days late because I misremembered the deadline. Neville-ish, no?

But what a cute little vignette this is... I just love the way you've shown 6 year old Neville. Loved that he was careful about giving his real name to strangers, loved that he chose "Frank" for his fake name, even loved it that he recognised Dora when he was older. It's rare, but given the way this story sets things up, and what we already know of Neville's character, I think he's just the right sort to forget breakfast, but not a face that means something to him.

Well done!

Re: :)

[author-by-night.livejournal.com]

Thanks! :) And I think a lot of his forgetfulness is because he gets nervous - which is what I think Tonks's clumsiness stems from, too.