You, Me, Wine and Some Warbeck or The Auror Who Saved Christmas

Nymphadora!

I adore ya.

I implore ye,

Don't ignore me.

You, me, a bottle of wine and tickets for tonight's Celestina Warbeck New Years Eve Party. Say you'll go?

Tonks sighed in exasperation as she stared at the messily wrapped present on the desk before her. Spellotape jutted out at odd angles, bits of fluff and hair stuck to the exposed, sticky surface. A bow, obviously recycled, was hanging off the edge of the lid. It obscured the gift tag but Tonks knew, without a doubt, who the gift was from.

Stan Shunpike.

Or rather, "Stanley D. Shunpike, ESQUIRE", which was how he'd signed the poem scribbled on the gift wrap.

"Probably doesn't know what esquire means," Tonks grumbled to herself as she opened the present.

It was a Portable Patronus, a Weasley Twin invention and a very costly one at that. Fred and George had only started marketing the device last week. How on Earth did Stan Shunpike manage to get a hold of it?

Tonks lay the tube shaped container on her desk, lining it up with six other gifts, each one as unwanted as the first. Not to mention the fact that Christmas had been seven days ago. The first gift had arrived on Christmas Day. That one at least made sense to Tonks. As for the rest of them? Though Tonks wanted to know why he insisted on sending her things, she was almost afraid to ask.

Stan Shunpike had been a thorn in her side since the day she saved him from a Dementor...that had really been a Boggart. Curiosity had driven Stan to open a trunk that had been left on the Knight Bus. Stan's screams had beckoned Tonks from the third level of the bus. The rest, as Stan told anybody who would listen, was history.

Thank you cards and poems of appreciation had arrived daily every since. He had called her 'the Auror who saved Christmas' and Tonks had been mortified when the day after the Boggart incident, a picture of the two have them had ran on the front cover of the Daily Prophet below that very headline.

Sighing, Tonks picked up the Forever Fresh Flower that had arrived yesterday. She held it to her nose, breathing in the heady scent that according to the packaging, would last forever. It really was quite beautiful - until she thought of who had sent it. Tonks sighed again and put the flower down, exchanging it for a quill.

In choppy printing she explained to Stan that she was not interested in his poetry, his gifts, or his self, and that she had not done him a favour by saving his life, but had only been doing her job. She signed the note "I hate Celestina Warbeck. Have a nice life, Tonks" hoping he'd get the picture.

He did not.

**

Stan paced back and forth in his rather dingy kitchen. A bottle of wine sat abandoned on the counter, condensation dripping down the glass and onto a pair of concert tickets beside it. Stan didn't notice any of this. He was too caught up in himself.

His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest and his breathing was laboured. Occasionally he'd wave his arms about frantically, but only when the excitement was too much for him. He tried sitting down in an attempt to catch his breath, but it was no use. He had to pace. Had to work it out of his system.

A more exciting moment he had never experienced. Why, not even the night he met Harry Potter, the Harry Potter compared to this! Because tonight, tonight he received an Owl from Nymphadora Tonks.

The letter was currently folded up carefully in his shirt pocket, directly above his heart. An apropos place, thought Stanley, ever a romantic. That the letter was an out-right shut down did not occur to him. Oh no, to Stan Shunpike, this letter was a beacon of hope, a ray of sunshine in an otherwise gray and dismal world.

She'd wished him a nice life! And what would be nicer then sharing that life with Nymphadora Tonks? Nothing Stan could think of, that was for sure. And she'd told him she didn't like Celestina Warbeck! Never before had Tonks shared with him something so personal. Stan viewed it as a sign that they were growing closer together.

Sighing a bit dreamily, the pimply faced man collapsed in the nearest chair and took the letter out. He'd read it once more, he told himself, before putting it away somewhere safe.

"It wouldn't do to lose this wee token of love," he mused as he slowly unfolded the piece of parchment, "not when I plan on readin' it to our Nymphadora on our wedding night!" Happy with that thought, Stan began reading again, etching the words in his mind so he'd never forget.

**

With a little bit of effort, Tonks had found out where Stanley D. Shunpike called home, and as it was on the way to the party she was attending that evening, she decided to stop by and put an end to the presents and poems. Stan lived in a dingy building that smelled a bit like the Quidditch changing rooms at Hogwarts, after a very long game. It didn't take her long to find flat 444. Taking a deep breath, she rapped on the door with a gloved fist

Stan awoke from a rather steamy dream of his wedding night, wondering who could possibly be knocking on his door? He never had company. Maybe it was Ernie dropping off something he'd forgotten at work. It wasn't Ernie, though. When he opened the door, there stood before him a pink-haired beauty, resplendent in icy white dress robes. She looks like an angel, Stan thought to himself.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing resembling words came out. Tonks thought she made out a 'sporfle', or maybe it was a 'murfle' but she had no clue what either word meant.

"Please stop sending me things," she said in cool, clipped tones. "It was my job to save your life. I get paid very well for it by the Ministry. There's no need to keep sending me gifts."

Confused, Stan was silent for a moment. "Don't'choo like the presents?" he asked her finally, his heart falling a little. He'd spent so much time picking them out and now he was afraid she was going to say that she really didn't like them.

"They were lovely gifts, Stan," she said.

Stan's eyes widened with surprise. "Well then, wot's the problem?"

Sighing loudly, Tonks closed her eyes and counted to ten before replying. "I don't know how to say this nicely so I'm just going to say it! I don't like you like that, Stan! Please stop sending me presents, and the poems! They really aren't necessary."

"I forchoo liked Celestina Warbeck," was all Stan had to say to that.

"You thought what?" It was Tonks' turn to be confused. What did Celestina Warbeck have to do with any of this?

"You told me in yer letter that you didn't like Celestina Warbeck." Stan crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame. "But when you saved my life, you 'ad on a Celestina Warbeck T-Shirt."

Tonks sighed again. "It was an old shirt," she mumbled. She could feel her cheeks blushing as she lied.

Stan gazed down at her, the look on his face clearing saying that he didn't believe her. Tonks started explain to him that she didn't feel comfortable abusing his generosity by using him to go to the (sold-out for months) concert when he confused her again.

"Well-a-well-a-well!" he stated loudly over her weak excuses. "Would you look at that!" Arms still crossed over his chest, he lifted a finger, pointing at the door frame above. "A little bit a mistletoe. Nargle free, 'n all."

Tonks looked up and sure enough they were standing under the rattiest, dustiest looking piece of mistletoe she'd ever seen. She surprised herself by blushing at the implications.

Stan didn't even wait for her to look back at him. He puckered up, lunged forward, and planted a kiss on Tonks' lips before she knew what was happening. Too shocked to move, Tonks just stood there, eyes wide with surprise. As she didn't run away immediately, Stan kept on kissing her, interpreting her staying with him as a very good sign.

Somehow Tonks managed to squeeze an arm up in between them and she tried to push Stan away from her. He merely took her hand with his own, and held it tightly against his heart. It was beating rapidly, Tonks noticed, much like her own. Her heart always beat quickly when she was on the receiving end of a good kiss.

A good kiss?

Tonks felt a bit faint at this revelation. Her knees buckled and she leaned against Stan so she wouldn't fall over. He let go of her hand, and slipped his arms around her waist. She gave in and slid her hands up his arms, and begged unnamed gods that nobody would see them.

When they finally broke apart it was because somebody walking down the hallway jostled them as they passed. Stan just stared at Tonks, blinking rapidly, wondering if this had really happened.

"I'll just wait out here while you get your coat," she said. Unable to look directly at Stan, she stared through the door and into his kitchen at the bottle of wine still sat on the counter.

"I get my wot?"

"Your coat. Me, you, a bottle of wine and some Warbeck, remember?"