The Future's Not Ours To See

[gilpins_tales]

Title: The Future’s Not Ours To See
Genre: Romance/Humour
Rating & Warnings: PG13
Word Count: 9335
Summary: Remus Lupin has a lot on his mind; his current undertaking for the Order of the Phoenix, and how to obtain questionable potions from an unhelpful Apothecary owner. Can he bring both to a satisfactory conclusion?
Author’s Notes: Originally written for the Half Moon Rising Fic Jumble at metamorfic_moon in October 2006. I was given the following prompts: Genre - Humour; Day - A Day of Satisfaction; Location - The Apothecary; Thing - A Conjured Chair. It's set sometime between the end of GOF and the start of OotP. And this takes place over a few day(s) of satisfaction…









The Future’s Not Ours To See

Week 1

Remus Lupin thought Mr Yuhong’s raised left eyebrow could teach a Death Eater a thing or two about the art of intimidation. It formed an almost perfect horseshoe-shaped arch of disbelief, as though its owner couldn’t quite believe his ears or, more likely, just wanted you to say it again in case the long queue of silent and frustrated shoppers behind you had somehow missed it the first time around.

Remus couldn’t recollect ever seeing him move the right eyebrow. It was entirely possible it was glued into place, like the rigid muscles in that inscrutable face.

“You have not had these potions before,” Mr Yuhong said, weighing every word as carefully as he did ingredients on his brass scales.

It was a statement, not a question. He knew down to the last smelly herb every potion Remus had ever had, especially the one he came in for each month regular as clockwork - or moonwork - which probably meant Mr Yuhong wanted to see if Remus was at all worried in case he was willing to forego the Indispensable and Indissoluble Apothecary Confidentiality Clause, in favour of seeing how many shoppers he could send hysterically screaming into Diagon Alley in one go.

Of course, Remus had to admit that asking for a potion like this was simply begging for a raised eyebrow or two from any remotely inquisitive person. And that was before he’d even mentioned the one Sirius wanted.

“No, I haven’t,” he said pleasantly, and stopped his fingers tapping the opening bars of the tune he’d been humming all day on the top of the counter. This was getting a habit. From the even more rigid look of the muscles in Mr Yuhong’s face, it was one he didn’t appreciate.

“Hmm.” Mr Yuhong compressed his lips into a straight line, and waited. Remus admired the meaningless word trick, which gave you next to nothing to respond to. Fortunately, during his teenage years he’d learnt another; which was that if you stood there looking amiably and resolutely silent for about two minutes, it gradually dawned on the other person that there was nothing at all to respond to. It really was the conversational equivalent of placing a chess opponent in check.

Or, as Sirius would put it, “Up yours, mate.”

There was a gradual stirring and muttering of discontent from the waiting queue as nothing in particular happened for approximately the next one minute and fifty-four seconds. Remus, glancing at them out of the corner of his eye, was struck by how dark and subdued their clothing for the most part was, and felt an inexplicable urge to see lemon hair and a tangerine orange tee-shirt standing amongst them.

He stopped his fingers from starting to tap again. That stupid tune had got lodged in his head for some reason.

“The first potion is very difficult. The other is not less troublesome.” Mr Yuhong suddenly came to life again, and dared him to disagree with either statement.

“I could leave them for another time, if this is particularly inconvenient for you.” Remus straightened up as if to move away from the counter.

“There is no need.” The words were a little more hurried than normal, but it was a short-lived victory because they were followed by the eyebrow heading pointedly in pursuit of the receding hairline again. “Perhaps you should do less walking and then the potion would not be required.”

“Perhaps I should.” Remus had no intention of enlightening either him or the listening queue.

A faint line creased the otherwise smooth brown forehead. “As for the other one -”

“Hmm?”

“I did not know you had a dog.”

“He belongs to a friend,” Remus said truthfully, and looked with polite interest at Mr Yuhong’s version of a pet, which was black and white and, thankfully, coiled up asleep in the glass tank on the counter, not six inches from his hand. Several of the witches in the queue behind were leaning as far away from it as they could get.

“Snakes are hard to fool.” The black eyes regarded him impassively.

“It’s difficult to pull their legs, isn’t it?” Remus was beginning to be reminded of many a conversation with Severus, although this one was less amusing. He sometimes thought there was another Mr Yuhong buried deep inside, one with a sense of humour and sparkling personality, who would sing along to Whatever will be, will be - he’d really got to stop this - but it certainly wasn’t a going day for that particular theory.

The next trick was not to let on that you were in a hurry or that your feet were killing you. Remus leaned forward confidentially on the counter. “Shall I come back in a little while or will you be able to make them up straight away?”

The black eyebrow shot upwards in astonishment at the sheer audacity of ‘straight away,’ and Remus braced himself. Molly, voice rising with indignation at the memory, had once told him that she was made to stand and wait over half an hour for her Better Bunions Potion, which only exacerbated the problem.

Mr Yuhong turned to gaze behind him at the straining shelves, which were crammed to the brim with bottles and jars and tanks - disturbingly some of the frog parts still seemed very much alive - and all the faintly revolting paraphernalia that any self-respecting Apothecary owner needed. He apparently possessed the ability to see through the packed shelves to the potion mixing room behind because, after a lengthy pause, he announced, “The boy is not busy. You will wait.”

There was a collective sigh of disappointment from behind Remus. He thought of apologising, but that was only likely to increase the waiting time.

He started to step aside, and looked around him, knowing he was searching in vain for the sake of his feet. There were already several bored and miserable looking customers standing with their weary backs to the wall, and with their resigned heads beneath the large sign which proclaimed: ‘Potion Satisfaction Is Guaranteed.’

“Have you never thought of putting some chairs in here?” he asked, thinking the floor was a big empty space when it wasn’t covered in people, and that it would make the whole place … friendlier.

Mr Yuhong blinked. Remus got the distinct impression he had actually surprised him.

“Why would people want to be comfortable here?” The eyebrow hovered uncertainly, as the words formed a question, rather than a statement.

“I’m sure they would, given the chance.” Remus smiled at him, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, but as the muscles in the man’s face contracted felt only as if he was missing some great big point somewhere. It puzzled him.

When the potions eventually arrived, he took both them and his rather disquieting musings on Mr Yuhong back to the dismal gloom of Grimmauld Place, and an impatiently waiting Sirius.

“There was a wife once.” Sirius, who’d greeted his arrival by pulling his long black boots and threadbare socks off at speed and throwing them across the kitchen floor, frowned in remembrance. “Didn’t you know? She was killed in the first uprising.”

Remus shook his head. In those days, Wolfsbane hadn’t been invented, and he had little reason or money to go in an Apothecary unless in dire need. It wasn’t like the luxury of now, when the Order paid the extortionate cost for him, and all he had to suffer in return was that one raised eyebrow, which seemed to say everything that the face couldn’t.

Sirius was reading the instructions on his potion bottle. He shrugged, and poured it into his goblet of Firewhiskey. “Why do they always say you shouldn’t mix these things with alcohol or ride a broomstick in case of drowsiness?”

“I’ve no idea. Mr Yuhong?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, he wasn’t exactly the life and soul type before, but now he’s definitely Yuhong low, and with good reason.”

Remus winced, not least because he was pulling his own shoe off. He hoped fervently that Molly wouldn’t choose this very moment to turn up for an unannounced visit, and catch two rather eccentric bachelors regarding the underside of their feet at the kitchen table in a distinctly unhygienic fashion.

“So did you get any funny looks about the potion?” Sirius sniffed at the steaming and now purple liquid, and drank it down in one long, concerted motion. “Now that’s interesting. Bit like apricot brandy mixed with athlete’s foot.”

“Why would I get funny looks asking for a potion for cracked foot pads?” Remus looked at his own foot, with considerable distaste. “Just make sure you send Kreacher next time to do your dirty work. By the way, the kind lady behind me in the queue did mention that Labradors are prone to it, apparently. Although I said the dog concerned was of a large and indeterminable breed, she then added that the usual causes are either cleaning sprays on carpets, or chewing your feet.”

“That’s bloody Molly and her cleaning poisoning me then.” Sirius looked disgusted. “I’ve never been the wimpy kind of foot chewing dog.” He looked at Remus, as if daring him to disagree, or ask why he still transformed into a dog at night when he couldn’t sleep. “Anyway, how are things over in blister land?”

“Painful.” Remus read the instructions on his potion bottle.

“You’re obviously not doing it right, are you?”

“I think you’ll find it’s because I’m doing it right that I’ve got the blisters to prove it.” Remus wondered if he should be worried that the potion was a cerise pink colour. He was more concerned that it immediately made him think of a whole host of bright colours again, but then he had Order work to do so it was no wonder he was thinking about her.

About the Order work. He was thinking about the work.

Sirius was bent over, apparently measuring to see if the crack in his foot had diminished in length with his fingers. “If you’re doing it right, how come you’re not doing it with the right girl yet?”

“A question I asked you many times at Hogwarts, only to be told there was no one right girl.” Remus sighed, with amused irritation. “I’ve already explained this. She made a beeline for the best-looking and youngest wizard there, aided and abetted by the frankly terrifying witch who’s taking the class, and who promptly paired me off with a nice librarian by the name of Delphine before I could think of a polite way to say no.”

“I thought you were supposed to be at this good at this.”

“I don’t normally have to make first contact with a prospective Order member in these rather unusual circumstances, do I?”

“Excuses, excuses.” Sirius shook his head sadly. “At least it’ll be entertaining seeing you explain to Moody how your latest recruitment drive has completely ignored his own personal recommendation, and instead attracted a middle aged librarian who is going to fight Voldemort by reading soppy romance novels to him. Meanwhile, the young and courageous Auror you were supposed to be after, is about to announce her engagement in Witch Best Brides.”

“Best Witch Brides,” murmured Remus absently, swallowing his potion, and thinking it wasn’t too bad at all if you didn’t mind drinking what appeared to be nettles, some unidentifiable part of a porcupine, and avocado oil combined. None of those seemed likely to be responsible for the pink colouring, though.

Sirius was looking rather wistfully at the label on his empty bottle. “It says satisfaction is guaranteed. If only. Anyway, talking of which, you need to sort yourself out, get rid of nice but dull as ditchwater Daphne -”

“Delphine.”

“Whatever. Just get hold of the right girl and start whispering sweet nothings about war and blood and gore in her ear, and see if she fancies being on the side that actually gets off their arse and does something about it.” Sirius gave an unpleasant smile. “Apart from me, of course. And for crying out loud, get rid of the prat that’s keeping you from her. Chuck a Blasting Curse at him, Confund him or, one of my personal favourites, have him fall down a large hole and disappear.”

“I was thinking of something a little more subtle, really.” Remus stuck his feet back in his shoes and wished he hadn’t. “Besides, we haven’t got wands.”

Sirius looked at him.

“The scary witch takes them off us at the start. So we wouldn’t be tempted to use charms or…cheat.”

“Bloody hell.” Sirius whistled through his front teeth. “I’m starting to see evening classes in a whole new law enforcement way. But so what? You’ll just have to be careful, won’t you?”

“Yes, I’ll have to be very careful, Sirius. She’s an Auror.” Remus put a lot of calm assurance he wasn’t entirely sure was present there willingly into his voice. “Just stop worrying and leave it all to me. I do do this sort of thing quite a lot.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to get blisters for Kingsley.”

Remus gave him a look to remind him he could make his skin shrivel like a walnut at the flick of a wand, and he lifted his hands defensively. “Okay, I’ve stopped worrying.” He ran his hand through his long dark hair, and let out a soft snort of laughter as though he was surprised at what he was going to say next. “I just want you to stop messing around so you can bring her here and I can meet her. I can’t get my head round the idea that this is Andromeda’s kid daughter. And you’ve hardly told me anything about her, you tight-mouthed git.”

He paused expectantly and looked across the table. Remus wondered if putting on his other pair of shoes would improve matters.

“Moony?”

“Well she’s not a kid for a start,” said Remus, shortly, and stopped his fingers tapping the opening bars of that damn tune again.

Week 3

Nymphadora Tonks knew she’d be late for evening class if she stopped off at the Apothecary first, but wasn’t sure if she cared that much. Eva from the Parchment Secretarial Pool at the Ministry had only persuaded her, against her better judgement, to go in the first place by telling her the kind of sob story people came up with when they wanted company for something intimidating, and had picked on you as the only other person left in the building. Eva had then proceeded to whinge her way non-stop through the class, and shortly afterwards developed some kind of cough which effectively stopped her making any kind of physical movement.

It was hard to blame her, although Tonks was having a very good try. Why Eva, who was dating Kingsley Shacklebolt, wanted to spend her evenings learning to ballroom dance for twelve weeks was a question she’d never got a satisfactory answer to, just a series of vague and evasive mumblings about having fun.

Tonks had a pretty good idea what fun was and so far dancing was nowhere in the vicinity. Or even the same country.

“You are humming a tune.” Mr Yuhong uttered the statement in a distinctly doleful way, but still managed to bring her mind abruptly back to the present.

“Huh?” Tonks, who’d been hoping for more in the way of a progress report on her potion - why didn’t the man get a couple of chairs for people to sit and wait on? - was momentarily taken aback. “Oh, yes, sorry. It’s been stuck in my head for a few weeks now.”

The thick black eyebrow moved slightly.

“They play it at my evening class,” Tonks explained obligingly, while wondering why she always felt rather sorry for the man. There was never anything in his manner to cultivate sympathy. “I’m learning to dance. Which is why I need the potion, as I’m on my way there. Right now,” she added, hoping to move things along from their current state of inactivity.

Mr Yuhong’s left hand, the one that was hidden under the counter, slowly came into view. It was clutching a large vial of greenish liquid.

Tonks toyed with the idea of saying “And you’ve had that there, how long?” but decided it was better just to get her money out.

“It will not stop you falling,” Mr Yuhong announced, watching her steadily with his black eyes.

“Oh, I know.” Tonks counted out some coins and thought this class was costing her a fortune, one way or another. “It’s just I keep landing on my knees and I know this prevents bruising. I’m trying to avoid ending up black and blue.” She laughed. “Dead clumsy, you see. I was hoping learning to waltz in an elegant manner would help, but it doesn’t seem to be at the moment. Thanks a lot anyway.”

She shot him a quick smile and had her hand on the door handle when he spoke again.

“That is a good tune to dance to.” He paused, and considered, while Tonks twisted the handle between her fingers, and silently extolled him to get a move on.

At last the words came. “But you must have the right partner.”

She thought she’d picked a good one in Gorgeous Gregory, getting to him just before an auburn-haired witch who’d perfected the death-by-mascara look, but it appeared brain cells didn’t necessarily accompany blonde hair and brown eyes, except at a very discreet distance in his case. He also seemed to have two left feet, which made at least four between them both. She really wasn’t looking forward to seeing him tonight, and knew the feeling would be mutual. It was much easier to think about keeling over onto her long-suffering knees at the shock news that Mr Yuhong was, apparently, a bit of a music fan.

“You could hold a dance in here, you know.” She grinned at him, cheekily. “It’s a lovely big space.” She waited long enough to see his eyes blink slowly, but definitely not in displeasure, and his head incline rather regally forwards in apparent agreement.

“See you!” she called cheerfully, and ran up Diagon Alley as fast as she could while trying to drink a potion at the same time.

As it turned out, she needn’t have hurried, because when she arrived at the warehouse - normally used for storing incredibly expensive furniture, but currently being rented out as the owners were obviously keen to make a Galleon or two - there was more going on outside than in. She nearly crashed straight into two figures, which she made out in the dark to be the benign-looking, greying man, who’d surprisingly turned out to be quite a decent dancer, and the nice librarian, who was sobbing brokenly into his shoulder.

Tonks pulled up short. “Everything okay?” she said, uncertainly. She was even more alarmed when the librarian raised her tear-stained face, took one look at her, and collapsed into even louder sobs.

“Yes, everything’s fine.” The man patted the librarian soothingly on the back, pressed a hankerchief gently into her hand, and smiled calmly at Tonks. “There’s just been a bit of an accident, but do go on in. No one’s seriously hurt.”

Tonks felt her own eyebrows start to do an impression of Mr Yuhong’s, but the man - was his name Rebus, or something? - looked so unperturbed that she told herself not to over-react. She made her way in thinking that she’d had him down in the first week as one of the only three interesting men in the class, though admittedly the qualifying bar had had to be set very low at under fifty, own teeth, no girlfriend in tow, and able to talk without dribbling. She’d labelled him as the boring, intellectual sort, but he’d turned out to be the boring, moaner sort last week; going on about the state of the admittedly rickety floor, wanting to change partners around for a “new prospective,” and making horrifying suggestions like “group bonding” over a drink in the pub afterwards.

Naturally he had scary Cassandra absolutely eating out of his hand after that, and it was all-too clear who was going to be teacher’s pet from now on.

She smelt the familiar smell of polish, that seemed to linger from the furniture storage days, and sweat, that was definitely from more recent dancing days; and rounded the corner to see most of the class bent over what looked like a fairly large hole in the floor.

“Twenty years,” Cassandra was saying loudly, her tightly coiled bun of golden hair looking as if it could easily shoot its constraining pins in all directions at any second. “Twenty years I’ve been doing night school, and this is the first time I’ve suffered anything like this. The shock was something awful. I’m going to complain to the owners, you see if I don’t.”

Tonks, finding herself at the back of everyone, craned forward to see.

“Unfortunately,” said a soft voice in her ear, making her jump slightly, “I did mention last week that I was concerned about the floor after it had had such heavy furniture stood on it for several months. It did seem to be creaking alarmingly in places.”

She turned to see the tall man she’d met outside, who’d obviously followed her in. There was no sign anywhere of his partner.

“What happened?” she said, eyeing him. There was a small damp patch on his dark green jumper, near to his shoulder.

He shrugged. “We were doing some warm up exercises and part of the floor suddenly gave way. Gregory was the only one close by and, though it initially looked nasty when he slipped down it, he’s only got a sprained ankle.”

“Gregory?” She looked around.

“Last seen eating chocolate and being taken home by a friend. No harm done.” He smiled slightly at her while she noted, with no sense of surprise that the auburn-haired witch was missing too. “I’m afraid you’re going to need a new partner though.”

“What?” Tonks, feeling slightly guilty that the Gregory problem seemed to have disappeared - literally - without her having to do the ‘I-don’t-think-we’re-meant-to-spend-our-lives-waltzing-together’ speech, could see another bottomless hole opening up in front of her now.

“Actually,” she said, “I was hopeless at this anyway, and it doesn’t seem quite right to carry on without him. I should just bow out gracefully.”

“That’s a shame.” He looked distinctly downcast. “As I need a new partner, too.”

“You do? What’s happened to -?”

“Delphine’s going to partner Gordon. And Margery’s going to - well suffice it to say, we had a bit of a swap round before you arrived, and I’m sorry but you’ve ended up with me.”

He didn’t look particularly sorry. Tonks, glancing back curiously at the crater-like hole, noticed there were no jagged or broken edges in the surface, almost as if someone had… She stopped. It would take a powerful wizard or witch to cause such a thing without being spotted, this lot didn’t have wands, and it was very hard to imagine any of them being capable of it in the first place. Or what they could possibly gain from it.

She was supposed to be off duty, for goodness sake. This was supposed to be fun.

She turned back to whatever his name was, who was watching her patiently. His face was vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t think why it should be. “Look,” she said “to be quite honest, I was thinking of packing it all in anyway. I don’t think it’s really my thing, and you’ll have a lucky escape from me treading on you all night. I’ll go and make my excuses to Cassandra.”

He nodded, in polite agreement. “Of course. It’s funny though, you don’t look like a quitter.”

“What?” The voice was so soft; she thought she must have misheard.

He smiled, and she realised that close to he was much younger than he’d first appeared to be. “You don’t look like the sort to give up easily.”

A teacher, she thought bitterly. I bet he’s a bloody teacher and he thinks he can motivate everyone with a few well-chosen words to get under your skin. Well here’s one person he’ll be wasting all those wonderful techniques on.

She opened her mouth to tell him how he’d have to do a lot better than that, but Cassandra was moving towards them and, almost immediately, a whole new conversation was going on about the best way to repair the floor, ensure it didn’t happen again, and let’s get the music back on, folks, because there’s no people like dance people and they smile when they are low. Or, apparently, confronted by bloody great holes in the floor. Tonks found herself torn between annoyance, amusement, and the distinct impression that she was on an out of control broomstick here.

It was very interesting to watch who was controlling things, though.

In a remarkably short space of time, everyone was organised. Cassandra, with her golden bun immaculate once more, gave her usual spiel about feeling the rhythm and letting the music flow through you, and Tonks was having to face up to the fact that this strange man she was stood opposite was about to put his arm around her.

“Right then, Nymphadora.” He smiled that disarming smile again.

“No,” she said. “Tonks.”

He frowned. “I thought your name was -”

“Tonks.”

He gave her an amused look. “All right. But if I had a lovely and unusual na-”

“Think yourself lucky you don’t. And I’d forget all about it if you want to get on with your new dance partner, Rebus.”

He cleared his throat. “Actually mine’s not quite that unusual. It’s Remus.”

“Sorry.” She realised she was feeling horribly self-conscious at the thought of treading all over this rather shabby, but incredibly composed man. It hadn’t been half as bad as this with Gormless Gregory.

Aloud, she said: “Have you done some dancing before?”

“A bit, a long time ago. I’m very rusty.” He nodded at her encouragingly and her hand was in his warm one before she knew what was happening. She forced herself to stay still while he sorted out his hold, and she felt his other hand resting just below her shoulder blades on her back.

“All right,” he said, but it wasn’t; and she spent the next few minutes apologising profusely, going bright red, and thinking how weird it was to stand so close to someone you didn’t know at all, and feel their body moving against yours.

She suddenly found it hard to look at his face so instead watched the long, slim fingers which were holding hers. It was an elegant hand, but she could feel the strength in it. He smelt nice too.

Unfortunately these thoughts didn’t help her concentrate as he attempted to lead her into something she thought Cassandra had called a whisk, and which somehow ended up with both her feet balancing precariously on top of one of his.

“Wotcher,” she said, feebly, from a distance of about six inches.

“Hello.” He sounded annoyingly amused, but to give him his due he didn’t mention the fact that only his firm arm stopped her from going flat on her face, or that his toes were probably crushed beyond repair.

He helped her down politely, and they set off again even more raggedly than before. Probably wearing Doc Marten boots hadn’t been a good idea. Neither was being that close to him.

“Look,” he said kindly, coming to a halt in the middle of the room - how on earth had they got there in one piece? - and then neatly moving her sideways to avoid a couple coming blindly at high speed towards them.

“At my feet,” he added, helpfully.

Tonks looked down, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks again, and wondered what it was about him that seemed vaguely familiar to her. He must think she was an absolute joke with her bright pink hair, her lilac tee-shirt proclaiming Frankly, Scallop, I don’t give a clam, and her appalling clumsiness. He must be longing to have Delphine back - who kept shooting dagger’s looks at them both as she glided regally by - as soon as possible.

She realised with a sudden jolt that they were moving; very slowly, very deliberately, and certainly not remotely in time to Que Sera, Sera as they were supposed to be, but moving all the same.

What’s more, they were moving in proper dance steps. Waltzing.

“Wow!” she said, as for the first time ever, she really did feel the music. She laughed up at him, and as she did so she promptly felt her foot connect with his ankle, but it wasn’t hard and he laughed too.

“You see?” he said. “You can do it.”

She stared up at him, taking in every line on his still boyish face, and felt another jolt go through her, for completely different reasons this time. It was just typical that she’d meet a man like this and there had to be a snag. And if she didn’t do this now there was a strong chance she never would.

She detached her hand gently from his and laid it on his shoulder, very close to his face, so that he could just see the wand inside her sleeve.

“Ah,” he said, his smile fading slightly at the edges, but still sounding as unruffled as ever. “You didn’t hand your wand in, I see.”

“It seemed best. What with some unknown person going around, and pulling off spectacular magic right under everyone’s noses.” She could hear the regret in her voice, because she was really, really hoping there was going to be some explanation for this that didn’t involve her having to spend the night filling out an admission form for Azkaban.

Not for this man. Surely Death Eaters weren’t capable of doing such a great promenade and oversway? Or making her heart miss a beat when his hands and his hips touched hers?

She pulled herself together. “Are you going to come quietly?” she asked.

Week 4

“You did what?” Sirius said, through a mouthful of breakfast toast.

“I took her for a drink, we sorted a few things out, and she’s coming to the Order meeting on Friday so you can meet her then.” Remus folded the newspaper up, and turned his attention to the piece of parchment he’d been looking at on and off ever since his early morning visit to the Apothecary.

People never ceased to surprise you, sometimes. It was a fascinating list as well, which he couldn’t wait to show Tonks.

Sirius waved a piece of toast in the air to get his attention. “That must have been an interesting chat. No wonder you got in at three in the morning. Talk about doing a quickstep through the cha, cha, cha; all to end up at the paso doble with Dumbledore and his gang.”

“Hmm?” Remus glanced at him, and then back at the list. He’d known all along there was more to Mr Yuhong than met the eye. “Yes, well, we had a good talk. I was very impressed how she’d sussed me straight away. I knew she was bright, but I under-estimated her there.”

“Andromeda’s kid was bound to be smart.” There was a lot of pride in Sirius’ voice, Remus noticed with affectionate amusement, as though he was personally responsible for this family trait. It was the same tone he always used about Harry. “And you say she knew who you were?”

“She said something was nagging at her about the name and the face. It might be a while ago now, but there was enough scandal attached to it at the time, wasn’t there?”

“Pales into insignificance besides me, though.” Sirius was spreading copious amounts of marmalade on his next slice of toast. “Anyway stop being cagey and tell me some juicy details - how’d you get rid of the prat who was dancing with her to start with? Did you blow him up?”

“I hope I’m a little more subtle than that,” Remus said, also hoping that was the end of the subject because he wasn’t. Partly as a distraction, and partly because he was so taken with the idea and hoped Tonks would be as well, he added: “Do you know I’ve never thought of Moon River as being suitable waltz music before, but now it’s written down in front of me I just can’t think of anything more perfect?”

“I know I’m thrilled.” Sirius and his knife paused as one. “What happened to Daphne?”

“Delphine.” Remus put the parchment down as he felt his face redden. “I had to lie to her. I’d no idea she’d be so upset.”

“What - did you tell her she had bad breath or something and you couldn’t stand it any longer?” Sirius snorted and decided to attempt to cram half a slice of toast, which was oozing marmalade in several directions, into his mouth all in one extremely messy go.

“No, I…” Remus hesitated and reminded himself he’d been running out of both time and inspiration. “I, er, told her I’d fallen for Tonks and was desperate to dance with her.” He hurried on as Sirius spluttered and sent a cloud of toast crumbs across the table. “I thought she’d think it was romantic, and she did, but of course I had no idea her ex-boyfriend had dumped her for a younger woman, and she’d think history was repeating itself. Though,” he added, more brightly, “she and Gordon have really hit it off, and I think she considers herself well rid of me now.”

Sirius took a while to stop wheezing, but when he did he said: “Bloody hell, Moony, I was doing you an injustice before when I said you weren’t good at this. Obviously all those years at Hogwarts watching me did teach you something - in four weeks you’ve managed one new Order member, various women dropping like flies for you, the entire Order going around humming that stupid song of yours, and you’re now an official expert on the waltz.”

Remus ran his hand through his hair and grinned. “I think you’re exaggerating a touch. If not going completely over the top.”

“No.” Sirius looked at him thoughtfully. “Strange how it only took you a couple of nights with Kingsley. I don’t remember you taking him for a drink either.”

“I don’t remember him having his wand at my throat, either.”

“Bet that was sexy.” Sirius laughed as Remus rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “So you’re bringing her here on Friday then. And where did you say you were meeting her beforehand?”

Remus looked at him, with wry amusement. “Trout or salmon?”

“What?”

“This fishing expedition you’re on, where none is necessary. I just wondered what you were after.”

Sirius grinned all round another piece of toast he’d stuffed in his mouth. “I’m just naturally suspicious when you turn into a cagey cod.” He laughed again as Remus groaned. “And you must be glad of one thing…”

“Yes?” Remus looked at him warily, wondering what was coming next.

“You can pack away your dancing shoes now. Kingsley’s girlfriend did what he asked and got her there in the first place for you to have your wicked way with her. There’s no need for either of you to go any more.”

“That’s very true,” Remus said, evenly, and picked up the parchment again.

Week 6

Tonks couldn’t believe how her life had changed in such a short space of time. She was now a member of the Order of the Phoenix, she’d sat and drunk too much Firewhiskey in the gloomiest kitchen she’d ever seen with Sirius Black, notorious criminal and possessor of the wickedest laugh she’d ever heard, and there was an increasing likelihood that she was going to be able to meet Harry Potter soon.

Harry Potter. Of all people. She’d woken up that very morning, thought about what she’d got to look forward to, and wondered if she was dreaming. If the mirror hadn’t told her that navy blue hair made her look like she was wearing a giant ink blot on her head, she’d probably still think she was.

And best of all, by a long, long way, she’d met Remus Lupin. Who was standing with her now in a warehouse that still faintly smelt of polish, half an hour after the rest of the class had gone home, because he’d somehow persuaded Cassandra to lend him her keys so that he and Tonks could get a head start on learning the tango.

She looked at him and wondered if he was as dazed by it all as she was. If he was thinking about a million possibilities at once and how being together like this just felt so … right.

Remus sighed heavily.

“No wonder this feels all wrong,” he said, frowning in concentration at the book Cassandra had given him. “Your hand needs to be much lower down for a start. If you don’t mind,” he added, hastily, with that touch of gentlemanly politeness he always had.

She moved it obediently and seriously considered saying she’d put her hands anywhere he wanted, as she had been on the verge of doing for several days now.

“Where’s yours going then?” she asked, with interest.

“Down here, apparently.” He looked at her for a second almost shyly, seemed to make his mind up, and slid his right arm round her body, pulling her in towards him. “The, um, instructions say the man’s hold should be much tighter and lower for the tango.”

“Right. Well we’ve got to do what it says.” She bit the inside of her cheeks to stop from grinning. “Then what?”

“Then we try moving again. In staccato-like movements and more of a stalking walk. We might have to improvise a bit till we get the hang of this.”

“Good job I swapped the Doc Martens for some heels really. It’s hard to stalk in boots.”

“It’s interesting having you at a higher level.” He smiled, while juggling the book and his wand, in order to start the music, and she thought that his kind, intelligent eyes were definitely light grey today, not blue. Whatever colour they were, they always looked at her as if they were so very, very pleased to see her.

She’d noticed lately that she kept repeating words twice when it came to Remus. There was probably some deep meaning behind that.

Or a deep, deep meaning. She felt her lips twitch with the effort of trying not to smile. It didn’t take a genius to work out what it was.

He cleared his throat, not quite looking at her, as the opening bars of the music began. “This is called Rose Room, by the way. Mr Yuhong said a pair of very famous Muggle dancers used to tango to it. He seems to have a great many books on the subject that he’s collected over the years.”

She tried to concentrate on what her feet were doing. She was never going to be more than a barely adequate ballroom dancer, but somehow Remus made her feel that together they could do anything. And he made it fun. Even a tango where she didn’t break anything - or anyone - was suddenly within the realms of attainability. It was enough to raise an eyebrow or two in disbelief.

Talking of which…

“Mr Incredibly Taciturn Yuhong said all that?”

“Not in so many words. His eyebrow got quite animated though.” Remus grinned, moved his arms quickly and then hastily grabbed at her, looking abashed. “Sorry! I’ll warn you next time that’s coming up, but it does say I’ve got to whip you round into the promenade position.”

“That’s okay.” Tonks took her face out of his neck, and wondered if she was imagining both his hands tightening round her waist as he supported her. “Just lost my balance for a minute. Why am I supposed to be leaning back and looking snooty again?”

“Um.” Remus had brought them to a halt by the wall, and seemed to be finding the book easier to look at than her. “Well it’s a dance that was performed by Argentinian cowboys - gauchos - who used to long for company after months spent tending the animals and so hired, er, ladies of the night to dance with them. They rather lacked washing facilities so the ladies lent back because of the, er, smell.”

“That’s not very romantic,” said Tonks, leaning forward instead, because she liked his smell very, very much, and those few seconds in his neck had only served to remind her of it. “And my hand’s down here because …?”

“You’re checking where my money is so that you’re sure I can pay for this.” There was a definite spark of mischief dancing in those grey eyes now, and a touching degree of caution on his face at the same time. “Which, now that you’ve got to know me, is a very wise thing to do as you must realise.”

“But your money could be anywhere. I might simply have found that store of chocolate frogs you’re always tempting me with.”

The grey eyes held hers. “Perhaps you should widen your search area. You ought to make sure it’s there.” His free hand touched her burgundy hair lightly, almost hesitantly; then stroked it more confidently away from her face and stayed there to twirl a piece round his finger. Her skin tingled and danced where his warm fingers had softly brushed against her temple and cheek.

There was a thud near her feet.

“Was that…?” She asked, not bothering to look.

“The book. Yes.” He nodded, a small, slightly nervous smile flickering on his lips. “I thought I’d improvise from now on, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m always impressed by a man who thinks outside the book.” She felt an uncontrollable grin stretch across her face as he lifted his hand for a second, flicked his wand, and the music changed to a more familiar introduction. “Going back to the old favourites, are we?”

“It got stuck in my head the first time I heard it.” His breath was quick and warm on her face. “Like you did.”

Tonks felt herself sway slightly, a movement she could never manage at all when it was required of her. There was another faint clatter on the floor as presumably his wand joined the book. His hand slid round her waist and began to move slowly up her spine, sending a corresponding shiver running down it. It would be all too easy right now to stop worrying about little things like breathing, and just marvel at the fact that the look in his eyes was really for her.

“It was your left whisk that did it for me -” she said, trying desperately to keep everything sounding light and easy, though her mouth had dried on her and was having difficulty forming the most ordinary of words. “I know it bowled Cassandra over as well because she said that - hey!”

He’d moved his hands so quickly she was taken completely by surprise. She found herself spun neatly round on her heels, and her back pressing gently against the wall.

“- you always finished up in the perfect position for the next move,” Tonks finished on a whisper, and slid her arm up his back, pausing only briefly to let her own wand drop in the same smooth, fluid motion his had. Except that hers hit her foot, ricocheted into the wall and flew off somewhere unknown to land with a loud, reverberating clatter. She looked at him, embarrassed, cursing the sodding thing while her heart hammered loudly in her ears, but his lips were curved in that familiar smile.

“You’re so lovely,” he said, and brought his mouth down on hers.

She kissed him; thinking vaguely that you could fancy someone, kiss them, and it was never quite as you expected. Sometimes better, sometimes worse. Or you kissed Remus Lupin, felt his soft, warm lips on yours, and … you opened your mouth for him, tasting him, wanting to savour every single second of this, and felt a tremor start somewhere deep down inside. Holding onto him as tightly as she was, she could feel the same in him. He lent into her, pressing his body against hers, pressing her back against the wall; and she pulled him into her as he deepened both their kiss, and all the sensations that went with it.

Someone made a sound, someone’s breath caught and hitched. She had no idea who was doing what anymore, and she didn’t care. The world had tipped on its axis, and was narrowed down to the man exploring her mouth and face gently now, almost reverently, his tongue teasing hers. She suddenly wondered what had happened to the chocolate frogs, because he was bound to have brought some for them both, and she smiled as his lips found her cheek and her jaw, and thought they’d probably melted like she had, long, long ago.

He lifted his head and looked at her; one hand in her hair, the other holding her tightly against him.

“So what now, Tonks?” he asked, very calmly, very softly, and with that composed smile apparently perfectly intact. But she felt his hand tighten as he let a wave of hair run through his fingers, and the hair was caught and held taut as he waited for her answer.

“We do it again.” She smiled at him, aware that the music was still playing and the words still echoing in her head. Then, because she had to keep saying things twice to make them seem real, and as it seemed to be working for her because something in the world had changed, she added: “And again and again.”

He bent his head. And did it again and again.

Week 8

It seemed appropriate to be back at the Apothecary where, in a strange way, it had all started. Remus, who’d danced more circles and performed more tricky heel turns than he thought possible in the last few weeks, felt as though there was a pleasing symmetry to it all.

Things had changed, though. It appeared he wasn’t the only one who’d learnt to master an on-the-spot pivot, and see how it could have you facing in a whole new direction. This time there was no queue of waiting shoppers, the snake tank was missing, and the potion was on the counter in a discreet brown bag waiting for him.

“Wotcher!” Tonks, dazzling this morning in a coffee coloured sweatshirt, black jeans, and dark red hair, grinned disarmingly at Mr Yuhong. “How are you today?”

The brown-faced Apothecary owner regarded her impassively as he considered his reply. Remus, who frequently pinched himself nowadays to make sure he wasn’t living in some strange, fantasy world, wondered what odds he would have taken if someone had said to him that one day he’d be taking a beautiful girl - in fact, his girlfriend - with him to Diagon Alley to collect his Wolfsbane Potion.

A million to one, would have seemed like something of an under-estimate.

“I am not unwell,” Mr Yuhong said, at last, having apparently considered the matter from all angles. The black eyes turned to regard Remus thoughtfully. “Your friend’s dog - there has been no further problems?”

A question so early on; Remus thought wonders would never cease. Aloud he said: “No, the feet have been fine, thank you. He’s a bit concerned about possible ear mites now -” Tonks spluttered, and managed to turn it into a cough, while Mr Yuhong’s eyebrow started a familiar upward arch “- but he’ll see how it goes and whether the itching stops.”

Mr Yuhong nodded gravely. He reached under the counter and slowly produced a small piece of curled parchment. He hesitated and then pushed it towards Tonks.

“More suggestions?” She beamed at him. “Cassandra thinks you’re wonderful, you know. My favourite’s still Que Sera, Sera, but we were trying to quickstep to Anything Goes last week, weren’t we, Remus? Though quite a lot of things went in my case. Good job I’ve still got some of that fantastic Anti-Bruise Potion left.”

“Satisfaction is guaranteed,” Mr Yuhong said automatically, but he was staring at Tonks’ sweatshirt, and there was a curve to his eyebrow that Remus thought, rather whimsically, almost resembled the shape of a smile.

“You have not danced to them,” he announced, and inclined his head forwards in that regal fashion he’d perfected.

“Huh?” Tonks looked down at the front of her sweatshirt, which boldly stated The Weird Sisters - They put the fun into funeral. “Oh, Merlin, no!” She laughed. “They’re not really foxtrot material, sadly.” She glanced at Remus, her dark eyes twinkling in mischief. “Of course, I’d like to see the expert here show me what he could do to some real music.”

“I’m sure satisfaction would be guaranteed for you,” Remus couldn’t resist it as he smiled at her, wishing that she wouldn’t look quite that irresistible when they weren’t alone, and how there were several things he’d currently like to show her. Rather belatedly, he remembered Mr Yuhong, who certainly wouldn’t appreciate people using his slogans in a humorous way. “I mean -”

“The customer is always right. Though no refunds will be given.” Mr Yuhong was totally deadpan as he interrupted him, but the eyebrow didn’t move and the tone was not unfriendly. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you.” Remus reached for his money, knowing he had just enough for the potion and to take Tonks for a hot chocolate at the Leaky Cauldron afterwards.

“No,” said Tonks, suddenly.

Remus looked at her. She was still staring at him, her eyes glittering.

“You want something else?” He was puzzled, as she hadn’t mentioned wanting anything on the way here.

“Go away.” Warm, red colour flooded her face and she abruptly turned away from him.

“What?” He had his hand on the potion bag and, for one long, awful moment, he thought she’d suddenly had a dose of cold reality, and woken up to a few harsh facts that had been staring her in the face all along.

“I need a potion. I’ve just remembered.” She turned to look at him, gave him a quick half-smile that reassured him somewhat, but equally worried him as she didn’t meet his eye. “Go and look at the herbs on sale, or something. I won’t be long.”

“But -” Remus started, and then could have bitten his tongue off, because this was clearly some mysterious female thing, and he was very close to embarrassing both of them.

Even Mr Yuhong seemed to have caught on quicker than him. “I will Conjure you a chair, Mr Lupin. It was a good suggestion of yours. This will not take long.”

The black eyes met his calmly as a wand was raised. Remus turned to see a large red armchair appear at the other end of the shop.

“Tiddles likes company.” The black eyebrow definitely twitched this time.

Remus heard Tonks whispering hurriedly as he made his way to the chair, and saw that the snake tank had been given a new position, tucked away in the corner of the front window, just catching the early morning sunshine. Tiddles seemed to appreciate this, as he was pressed up against the warm glass in apparently blissful slumber. Remus lent back in the chair and stared at what looked like the remains of several half-eaten rats in the tank.

Hurried footsteps coming towards him made him look up.

“It won’t be long,” Tonks was still red and now rather breathless. “Sorry about that. That’s a great chair, except you look as if you’re now for sale yourself. Perhaps I should make an offer for you.”

She smiled at him while he looked up at her, wondering how long it would take before she realised that there were a hundred more Gorgeous Gregory’s out there waiting for her. The innocent words from Que Sera, Sera that they danced to and laughed to each week, suddenly seemed laced with foreboding. Whatever will be, will be; the future’s not ours to see…

“Oh hell.” Tonks’ head was tilted on one side, staring at him. “I don’t suppose you’re the sort of person who goes in for public displays of affection while on show to everyone in a shop window, but it’s your own fault for looking at me like that.”

He opened his mouth to say something, which certainly saved him a few seconds work, because the next minute she was in his lap, and reaching for him, her face naked and vulnerable. His arms reacted entirely of their own accord and decided to more than meet her half way. He had no idea who kissed who, only that it was with a bone-melting intensity that made him realise, beyond any doubt whatsoever, that the longing he felt was totally, wonderfully mutual.

He could have given himself over to that feeling and to her for ever more but, eventually, and very reluctantly, he slid his hands down her smooth face, gently pushed her upright on his knee, and said: “I think your potion’s ready.”

“Oh, bugger.” She bit her lip.

“Yes.” He tried not to grin as they both attempted to straighten their hair at the same time. A couple of deep breaths did absolutely nothing to calm his pounding heart. It was like feeling seventeen again, and it was wonderful. “Um… Anybody watching at all?”

She peered over the back of the chair. “Only one old dear. She’s dropped her shopping bag on the ground to stand and have a good stare, so she must have been impressed with your technique.”

“I’ll give her the name of my owl when we get outside.”

They stood up together and he hung back a little to give her some privacy as she went to get the potion. Mr Yuhong’s face was, thankfully, as unreadable as ever. He did hope the man wasn’t going to have second thoughts about having a permanent chair in his shop now because it really was a good idea.

Tonks was counting out her money, and Mr Yuhong brought his hand up slowly from underneath the counter to place the bottle in another brown bag. Remus caught a quick glimpse of a turquoise blue colour, and the faintest whiff of a rather long-forgotten smell, and suddenly knew he was simultaneously the biggest idiot in the world and the luckiest man alive.

She was watching him, her eyes bright with a kind of nervous excitement, and he went to her at once and took her hand in his.

“You have everything you want?” Mr Yuhong looked from him to Tonks and back again.

“Oh yes.” Remus nodded and squeezed Tonks’ hand tightly in his.

“That is good.” The man’s tone was slightly different. There was something in those jet black eyes that made him remember his theory that buried deep inside Mr Yuhong was a sparkling personality and a sense of humour.

Mr Yuhong hesitated fractionally, and then pushed the two brown bags towards Remus. The eyebrow moved slowly upwards in one precise, very nearly amused, horseshoe-shaped arch.

“Satisfaction is guaranteed for you both,” he pronounced, solemnly.

It was always nice to be right.

More Author’s Notes: If anyone’s interested in some of the music referred to in this… ‘Que Sera, Sera’ is from the 1956 Hitchcock Film, ‘The Man Who Knew Too Much,’ starring James Stewart and Doris Day. ‘Rose Room’ is from the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers 1939 Film, ‘The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle.’ They do indeed perform a tango to it, but not quite in the style of Remus and Tonks. The origins of the tango are as Remus related, and the dance steps should all be correct, although it’s a fair few years since I had someone like Cassandra yelling at me about them.