Besse Bunting

Besse Bunting

Lola Ravenhill

In Aprell and in May
When hartes be all mery
Besse Bunting, the millaris may
Withe lippes so red as chery
She cast in hir remembrance
To passe hir time in daliance
And to leve hir thought driery
Right womanly arayd
In a peticote of whit
She was nothing dismayd...

Tonks tasted like Black Currant tea. She was rich and smoky, with just a hint of tang on top, and a deeper sweetness beneath. It fit her. His own cup of Earl Grey rested on the floor beside them. His eyes were closed, but he could smell the fragrant steam rising up from the cup, pungent and herbal.

Sure and careful hands stroked down his arms and came back up, pressing hard into shoulders, and a lighter touch for the upper chest, easing away the aches and twinges of yet another moon. His head was in her lap, and the hands moved to push hair off his brow, dash through the slightly coarse strands and dance against his scalp.

Remus had decided to recuperate at her basement flat rather than at Order headquarters, not wanting to deal with the hurly burly that came with the house and the Weasleys currently invading it. Tonks' place was loud, everything screaming of her personality with bright colors and clutter and welcoming, opening its arms up wide to bring him into that little space. With a warm bed and good company close at hand, there wasn't much else he needed to live comfortably for a very long time. She had a surprisingly well stocked bookshelf.

In this little cavern, Tonks did her best to alleviate the pain. A thick and brightly patterned comforter was beneath them, and a woven blanket wrapped around his waist. A white cotton sheet was tucked around her, skimming her body as if it were the finest silk from Asia. Her hands kept moving, steady and unclumsy only at times like this, and she hummed a lilting tune as she worked. Remus pressed back against her, breathing in deeply through his nose. Even though his body was feeling pained, at times like this he could almost pretend there wasn't a war on, that loss was becoming more and more a part of everyday life, that the spring breeze coming in through the windows brought tidings of good news rather than bad. That it was just the two of them, comfortable and safe...

He opened his eyes to see her face leaning over him, her head cocked to the side in question. Her short dark hair stood up in disheveled spikes, and a few wisps of steam from the mugs of tea wafted around them in delicate curls. "What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, her voice breaking the silence of the bright cavern.

"Nothing," Remus replied. "It's fine. We're fine." He truly meant it, the simple little word expressing all that he intended to say and a few things he didn't but were present anyway.

Tonks nodded, and then leaned down to press her cherry red lips to his, gentle pressure, and a tongue sneaking out to taste his skin. She carried the flavour of black currant in her mouth. When they pulled apart, her face lit up the room, emotion shining from it. She smiled widely and brightly, the sun reflecting off of her face.

...Hir countenance was full of light.

--Besse Bunting, Anonymous, as performed by the Mediaeval Baebes