#txd-txnks

March 1979

     ♠ HE WAS IN NEED of a good firewhiskey. ‘Good’, however, was subjective to the money in his pocket, and for some reason selling potions wasn’t doing too well during war. At least, not during this phase. There were no plans brewing for his side, so nobody he knew needed anything, and stranger clients were far and few. It was frustrating and expensive, leading to certain budget-cutting decisions.

     It was unfortunate that his small pockets lead him to the one place that was as well-known as it was unreliable for sanitation and animal cruelty. The Leaky somehow got worse every time. Severus brushes some dust off the table, reaching out for his jug before some imbecile knocks it over. Faster than he could blink, the jug had shattered and mended itself, but its contents were all over the floor, scourgified before he could even take out his wand.

     He’s pissed.                “ Next time, try not flinging your limbs everywhere ? ”

Tell me a headcanon you have for my muse.

It was rude to stare, but Sirius couldn’t help it. He’d been expecting to be greeted by Andromeda, but someone else had opened the door, instead.

Ted Tonks.

Sirius had heard plenty about the man while he had still lived at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The name Tonks had been tossed around in conversations and lectures about blood traitors and disgrace and throwing away your life for filthy mudbloods. It was a name he knew, a name he had reviled for a short time, between the anger of Andromeda’s departure and the inspiration that followed.

Now, the man was before him, and Sirius wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. A monster, perhaps, with two heads and twelve limbs and fourteen noses - a whimsical description his younger mind had thought up of the creature that had stolen away his cousin. Or maybe an urchin, with tattered clothes and a crooked mouth and even an eye missing - awful and dirty and not good enough.