(no subject)
Title: On Paper
Author: ladybracknell
Rating and Warnings: PG 13
Prompts: A feather quill, Ted and Andromeda’s house, a day together after time spent apart and romantic comedy.
Word Count: 9,704
Summary: Remus is acting like a sixth-former with a crush, and now the object of his affection has invited him home to meet her parents.
Author’s Notes: Reference to cross-dressing is dedicated to mrstater ;). Enjoy!
Remus chewed the end of his quill thoughtfully.
Immediately he wished that he hadn’t, and spat out a couple of bits which had stuck to his tongue. He picked them off as best he could, and wiped his tongue across the back of his hand, gagging slightly. What was he thinking, chewing thoughtfully on the end of a feather? He didn’t even know where it had been.
Well, he thought, that’s not true. He knew exactly where it had been. Until quite recently, he suspected, it had adorned the tail of a - by the looks of it - rather splendid eagle, but knowing that hardly made absentmindedly putting it in his mouth any better.
His mind had, evidently, been elsewhere.
He stared again at the note in his hands, wondering what to make of it.
Remus,
Have to go to uber-boring party at The Parents’. If I don’t show up with someone, they’ll try and fix me up with one of dad’s dodgy mates. Any chance you fancy coming with me and saving me from a fate worse than death?
Ta,
Tonks.
PS. Would have asked in person, but haven’t managed to run into you in ages, figuratively or literally.
Remus read the note through another couple of times, but her words gave up no more semantic clues than they had on his first read through.
He still didn’t know quite what to make of it.
Remus had liked Tonks for months, pretty much since he’d met her - she’d reached for his hand as Moody introduced them, tripped over the rug and uttered the words ‘Oh bloody buggering hell!’, which he’d thought was desperately endearing. He smiled at the thought - even though just thinking it, he could hear Sirius laughing at him and saying that only he would find being sworn at by way of a greeting endearing.
How much he liked her had dawned on him over time. One day he’d felt a pang of disappointment and annoyance that she wasn’t in a meeting, having not realised until she wasn’t there how much he’d been looking forward to seeing her. The meeting had turned into a blur around him as he’d sat, wondering where she was, hoping she was all right, thinking how much he missed the way she rolled her eyes at Snape and chuckled softly at his side when Moody told them all to be constantly vigilant for the eighteenth time in as many minutes.
A week later he’d found himself running his hand through his hair and trying to rearrange it into some shape that didn’t look ridiculous before she arrived and wondering if what he was wearing looked all right.
And then a week after that, they’d been on a mission together, sitting outside the Dursley’s for half the night, and they’d exchanged stories about their lives to pass the time, and he’d noticed for the first time how witty she could be. He’d invited her back to Grimmauld for a cocoa to warm up afterwards, and she’d said yes. It had surprised him, a little, that she hadn’t just laughed in his face, told him that there were a million things she’d rather do at three o’clock in the morning than drink a mug of cocoa in a dreary basement with a boring former professor.
Then he’d started to notice things about her. He liked the way she stood, with all her weight on one leg, and her hands in her pockets, regarding the world with a kind of casual intrigue, as if she was just waiting for the next opportunity to laugh at or be surprised by something. He liked the way she smiled, which she did a lot, especially when they were on their own, and the way her eyes always twinkled with the suggestion that she thinking about doing something she knew she shouldn’t.
One day, not long ago, he’d found her in the kitchen, reaching for something on a high shelf. The absurd puce T shirt she was wearing had ridden up slightly, and he’d noticed the dimples at the base of her spine. And that just - well it just…. It was as if the image of them was forever imprinted on his brain, and he couldn’t stop picturing himself running his fingers over them.
And that was when he’d known he was in trouble.
That was when it had suddenly dawned on him why he’d been acting like a sixteen year old around her, why he’d tried to make her laugh, why he’d cared what he looked like, why his heart sank when she wasn’t where he thought she was going to be.
Of course it had occurred to him that he could scarcely have picked a worse time to fall in love if he’d tried, but his heart had never been a sensible organ, or even remotely connected to his brain, and it, apparently, didn’t care.
It had occurred to him too that just because he had figured out how he felt, it didn’t mean that she felt the same, and he’d lost many a night to lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, analysing things she’d said, the way she’d acted, any accidental brush of her hand against his, her shoulder against his, for clues, hints, any indication, however small and seemingly insignificant that maybe, just maybe she did like him too.
And now he had a note, from her, inviting him to spend the day with her, away from here, away from The Order, away from everyone. It was phrased like a casual enquiry - she could pass it off as a favour for a friend, and yet he wasn’t sure that there was anything casual about it at all.
It was enough to make any man absentmindedly chew on the end of a feather quill, he thought.
Dear Tonks,
The word ‘dear’ glared at him accusingly from the parchment, and so he took out his wand and Vanished it.
Tonks -
Now, should he be flirty? he wondered. They’d been inching towards something approaching flirty for a while - in fact, he thought they may well have passed flirty and headed into something more blatant - at least if the gagging noises and references to him filling his boots up Sirius had taken to making were anything to go by. He decided against it, just in case this was a casual, friendly invitation, and not the kind that gave his heart reason to dance a tango in his chest.
Tonks -
Was most flattered by your invitation. Always nice to be a more appealing prospect than one of someone’s dad’s dodgy mates. If I accept, what might I expect in return?
Remus.
He read the note through a couple of times, and then crossed the room, went out into the corridor, and pinned it to Tonks’ door before he could change his mind.
As he returned to his own room, he wondered why he hadn’t knocked to see if she was in.
Remus,
What can you expect in return? You mean apart from one of my mum’s killer buffets?
Dunno. What would you like? Maybe I’ll take one of your weekend shifts so you can go out with that girl Sirius keeps telling me you’ve got major lust for.
Tonks.
Remus’ snigger at the thought of what might constitute a ‘killer buffet’, especially for a former member of the Black family, died on his tongue as he got to the part about Sirius talking to Tonks about his ‘major lust’. His brow creased in consternation as he wondered how long it would take for Sirius to get drunk enough to tell Tonks that she was the girl in question.
He picked up his quill, tickling his bottom lip with the end of it while he thought.
Tonks -
He stalled. Hardly promising to get writer’s block one word in, he thought. He chewed the end of his quill, remembering too late that that resulted in predictable tongue-feathering. He made a mental note to buy a quill of the sugar variety at the first available opportunity. Especially if this was going to become a regular occurrence. Which he hoped it would, because coming back from an eight hour shift listening to Arthur talk about his various theories on a Muggle Teasmade had been made all the more pleasant by finding a jovial note from Tonks pinned to his door.
The small portion of Sirius’ brain that wasn’t addled by Azkaban has, I fear, been eroded by Firewhiskey - ergo, you should take anything he says about my lust - major, minor, or otherwise - with a pinch of salt the size of Gibraltar.
How killer a buffet are we talking? It’s a well documented fact that I will do anything for a sausage roll.
Remus.
He thought about adding a couple of kisses after his name, but ultimately decided against it, and got up, pinning the note to Tonks’ door on his way to the kitchen for some well chosen words with Sirius about keeping his great big trap shut.
Remus awoke to the sound of paper rustling its way underneath his door. He waited, his skin prickling with anticipation, until Tonks’ footsteps had receded, and then got up to read the note.
Remus,
I daresay there will be sausage rolls, although no doubt my mother will call them ‘bite-sized, chopped pork aperitifs in a light chough pastry’, and serve them with a plum tomato sauce that she’ll swear blind isn’t ketchup.
So can you be persuaded? I’d be grateful, and I’m sure you’d quite like having a young, hot-blooded witch in your debt.
Tonks.
Remus took a quick steadying breath. She couldn’t possibly have written what he thought she’d written. He must be dreaming. He pinched himself sharply on the wrist, winced at the pain that was entirely un-dreamlike, and read the sentence again, swallowing when he realised that she had written what he thought she had.
He debated replying for a moment, and then decided that it was far too early to be thinking even remotely flirtatious thoughts or to wrap his sleep-addled brain around words like ‘hot-blooded’, and went down to the kitchen for a fortifying cup of tea.
Sirius looked up from the table, and regarded him from underneath distinctly heavy-lidded eyes. “Morning,” he said gruffly.
“Morning,” Remus returned.
He crossed the room and tapped the kettle to re-heat it, Summoning the things he needed to make the strong cup of tea he was so desperately in need of. Remus tried to keep his face neutral, although the words ‘young, hot-blooded witch’ kept circling his brain like vultures, picking away every other thought he had, and, he suspected, leaving him with a rather dazed expression. He swallowed.
“You just missed Tonks,” Sirius said, his voice bending suggestively. Remus avoided his eyes, concentrating instead on making his tea and selecting a couple of digestives from the biscuit barrel on the work surface.
“Did I?”
Sirius’ murmur of reply was distinctly amused, and Remus sighed. He sank down into a chair and regarded his friend across the table. “Don’t pretend you’re not interested,” Sirius said, reaching across the table and stealing one of Remus’ biscuits, “because I know you are.”
Remus raised an eyebrow by way of reply, and Sirius dunked his biscuit in his tea. “You don’t share a room with someone for seven years and not pick up on how they act when they’ve got a crush on someone.”
Remus watched as half of Sirius’ biscuit dropped into his tea with a vaguely apologetic 'splosh'. Sirius swore, Summoned a spoon from the dresser and fished the limp, soggy biscuit bits out of his tea, and Remus grimaced as he slurped them off the spoon. “What?” Sirius said, meeting his horrified expression with a perplexed frown. “Waste not, want not.”
“Good to know a stint in prison hasn’t improved your manners any,” Remus said, wearily sipping his tea.
Sirius glowered at him half-heartedly for a moment, but Remus knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long, especially when there was the prospect of a girl to be talked about. He waited, and eventually Sirius took a sip of his drink, swallowing his glower along with it. He set his mug down, and leant towards Remus, his eyes dancing inquisitively.
“So how goes the quest for the fair Nymphadora, then?” Sirius said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Have you snogged her yet?”
“You make me sound like a sixth former with a crush on the girl I sit next to in Astronomy.”
“You’re acting like a sixth former with a crush on the girl you sit next to in Astronomy,” Sirius returned defensively, crossing his arms. “I saw you checking your hair in the silverware the other day before she came in.”
Remus suppressed a smile with difficulty, hiding it behind his mug. “I like to look presentable for meetings.”
Sirius raised a single, disbelieving, eyebrow. “And what’s with the note-passing?” he said.
“We just haven’t seen each other in a while,” Remus said.
“It’s not exactly bolstering your ‘I’m not a sixth-former’ case.”
“I suppose it isn’t,” Remus said. He folded his arms across his chest in playful petulance, biting back a chuckle. “But she started it.”
Sirius laughed, and Remus sniggered quietly to himself as he balanced his mug against his forearm. “What’s the problem, anyway?” Sirius said. “Why are you still at the cute note-passing stage, and not at the pinning her to the wall in the hall and giving those elf heads something to look shocked about stage?”
Remus dropped his elbow onto the table, leaning heavily on his hand. That was a very good question. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had the opportunity to move things in a more romantic direction - they were often alone, and Tonks always took him up on his offer of a late night cocoa or Butterbeer after their missions together. He massaged his temple with his fingertips, wondering how he could feel this weary when he’d only just got up. “I don’t know,” he said.
It wasn’t strictly true. He knew he liked her, and he was pretty certain she liked him. Maybe that was it. Pretty certain. Maybe he needed to be more than pretty certain.
Sirius rocked back in his chair and considered him across the table for a moment, and Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure whether he’d like where this was going. Even though he never asked for - and would certainly think more than twice about taking - Sirius’ advice on girls, he couldn’t help wondering what his old friend thought. “She likes you, you know,” he said. “And you could do a lot worse.”
“Of that I am keenly aware,” Remus said quietly, toying with a chip on the handle of his mug.
“What is it, then? You like her, she likes you - I mean I know this kind of thing isn’t exactly your strong suit, but it’s not as if it needs to be when she’s practically drooling on your shoes.”
Remus bit back a grin with difficulty. It was good to hear those kinds of endorsements from someone else - proof, almost, that he hadn’t imagined her interest. “It’s not as simple as that, though, is it?” Remus said, wondering if he was saying it more to himself than Sirius.
“Isn’t it? I mean what do you need, Moony, a bloody diagram?”
Remus glared half-heartedly at Sirius for a moment, and Sirius looked away, obviously trying not to laugh. “Let’s hear them, then,” he said.
“Hear what?” Remus asked.
“Your objections.”
Remus sighed. Sirius probably had them all worked out already - he just wanted to make him say them out loud so he could refute them - as he always did. Even at school, when Remus had spent months pondering whether it was fair to ask a girl out when she didn’t know what he was, Sirius and James had stumped up ten points for every objection he raised. “She’s half my age, for a start,” he said, sitting up and taking a sip of his tea.
“Three quarters,” Sirius returned. “Next?”
“I don’t really have a lot to - ” Sirius’ eyes darkened, and he dropped his chin and glowered menacingly.
“If you say ‘offer’ I’ll hex you to next Christmas and back.”
“It’s true - I don’t.”
“That’s bollocks, and you know it. It’s not about the money, is it? Girls like effort and blokes who listen, and - ” He waved vaguely, his brow wrinkling with deep thought. “ - stuff.”
Remus sighed in vague acquiescence. Financial matters weren’t his primary concern, although it did bother him, the idea of anything with him being less than second best when Tonks deserved nothing of the sort.
“And then there’s the other thing,” Remus said quietly. Sirius leant heavily on the table, smiling faintly and evidently having already guessed what Remus was going to say.
“Ah, your furry little problem. I wondered when that was going to come up.”
“You can’t deny it’s relevant,” Remus said. Sirius tilted his head to one side in what may have been a vague nod of agreement. “You have to admit that on paper, I’m not exactly the ideal candidate - an unemployable Dark Creature with barely two knuts to his name.”
“And you bloody snore - don’t forget that. No wonder you can’t get a girl,” Sirius said.
Remus sniggered half-heartedly, and Sirius’ eyes met his with an altogether softer, more sincere glint in them. “Ok,” he said, “on paper, you’re not a great candidate. But it’s not as if you’re waiting to be picked out of a catalogue. She’s met you and she likes you, regardless. That’s the genius of the Tonks lust, isn’t it?” Sirius said. “Instead of you spending months wondering how to tell someone how you feel and then add the old ‘oh, by the way, once a month I’m a blood thirsty monster. Still fancy that shag?’, she already knows. She doesn’t give a damn about how you seem on paper - she likes you in person.”
Remus hummed in reply. He couldn’t help thinking that was a very good point.
He took a sip of his tea, and Sirius got up to grab another handful of biscuits, eating a digestive no more decorously than he had the first couple.
Remus watched, thinking about what Sirius had said.
He wished he had a feather to absentmindedly chew on. Instead, he settled for stealing one of Sirius’ biscuits and chewing it thoughtfully.
What Sirius had said was true enough - he’d never lied to Tonks about what he was or what it entailed, and she really didn’t seem to mind.
He wondered if that was why he was finding it so very hard to think of a reply to her note. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had so much at stake.
Tonks -
That sounds delightful.
Will there be sandwiches masquerading as bite-sized bread and cucumber morsels? Can I expect pineapple and cheese on a stick (to which I am indecently partial)? That would make my decision a forgone conclusion for the affirmative.
Remus.
He looked at the note with dismay. Twelve hours’ thought, and all he could up with was some lame party-food related humour. He decided to rectify the situation by re-writing his name, and adding a kiss, and delivered the note to the door in question before he could change his mind.
Then he spent all night lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering whether or not he should have done it, if a kiss was too much, too soon. At about half past five, it occurred to him that it was stupid to stay up all night, pondering one single, insignificant letter she probably wouldn’t even notice anyway, and he pulled his pillow over his head and groaned into it.
In the morning, Remus found a return note nestled on the carpet near his door. He picked it up, biting his lip and wondering why a piece of parchment could render his mouth dry, his palms distinctly not, and set his mind on some kind of spin-cycle. He almost didn’t want to look, and yet he couldn’t wait to see what she’d written.
Remus -
I can’t promise you pineapple and cheese on a stick, although, since you’ll be going with me, I can promise you sparkling conversation and the increased chance of having something spilled on you. I know you like an element of danger.
Tonks xx
Remus smiled, wondering how two letters, two seemingly insignificant ‘x’s could be the cause of such heart fluttering and radiating warmth in his stomach. He reached for his quill.
Tonks -
How could I refuse? Let me know when and where, and I shall be ready and armed with a range of Evanesco spells.
Remus xx
Remus,
You’re a doll. Party is on Saturday, and starts at midday - do you want to meet here and then Apparate or Floo together?
Looking forward to testing out the limits of exactly what you’ll do for a sausage roll.
T xxx
T. She’d signed it T. Remus grinned. Then he noted the three kisses, and his grin widened.
T -
I look forward to whatever tests you have in mind.
Midday here is fine.
See you then,
R xxx
Remus stood, staring at his wardrobe and wondering what to wear.
“What are you doing?”
Sirius’ voice startled him, and he jumped. “Nothing,” he said, closing the doors abruptly. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him in apparent disbelief, and then sank onto the edge of the bed. Remus turned and leant on the wardrobe, biting his lip as he thought, wondering which of his array of less than natty clothes to wear, and half-heartedly, why he was giving it so much thought.
“You’re up bright and early,” he said, and Sirius shrugged.
“Had to get up so I could be sick,” he said.
Remus offered him a vague grimace of sympathy, although he wondered if it shouldn’t be disapproval. “So what’s going on, then?” Sirius said, gesturing to the wardrobe. “Were you looking for woodworm?”
Remus debated his options - he could lie, claim he’d found a Doxy nest or something, but Sirius probably wouldn’t believe him, and besides anything else, Remus had been staring at his range of grey, brown, and greyish-brown jumpers for half an hour, and was still no closer to deciding which one was appropriate attire, and he thought a second opinion might be necessary. He took a deep breath.
“If a person was going out with another person,” he said, “what might they wear?”
“What?” Sirius said, his brow creasing with confusion. Remus sighed, knowing he’d probably never hear the end of this.
“If a person - ”
“Look, Moony,” Sirius said, “I’ve got a stinking hangover, someone’s hidden my Morning After Mintimisers - ” Remus fingered the packet guiltily in his pocket. “ - so I’m really not in the mood for cryptic. Do you mean you?”
“All right, yes,” he said. “If a person - ” Sirius glowered, cutting Remus off. He rolled his eyes, and re-phrased. “ - if I was going out with another person -”
“Another person like..?”
Remus cleared his throat and avoided Sirius’ eyes. “Another person like Tonks.”
His admission hung thickly in the room for a moment, and then he met Sirius’ eye cautiously, and Sirius’ cheeks twitched in a barely-there effort to conceal a grin. “I bloody knew it,” he said, giving in to his impulse to smirk. “I knew this note thing wouldn’t last. Good on - ”
“There’s nothing - ”
“Uh huh,” Sirius said, leaning back on his hands, a knowing smile creeping across his face.
“I’m just doing her a fav - ”
“Uh huh.”
“She’s got this thing at her parents’ - ”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s not - ”
“Uh huh.”
The knowing smile turned to outright smugness, and Remus folded his arms across his chest and glowered at Sirius. “Oh bugger off,” he said, and Sirius laughed.
“If you’re just doing her a friendly favour, and there’s nothing going on, why does it matter what you wear?”
Remus felt his jaw tighten. That was a fair point. “Oh all right,” he said, unfolding his arms in defeat and dropping his hands into his pockets. “So what should I wear?”
“How the bleeding hell should I know?” Sirius said. “I’ve been in prison, remember? Who do you think’s been giving me fashion tips, The Dementors? ‘Ah yes, Mr Black, those prison robes do bring out the colour of your eyes. Have you considered something black and floaty? Now relax and open wide while I get my tape measure.’”
Remus suppressed a laugh with some difficulty at the image of a Dementor trying to take Sirius’ inside leg measurement.
He sank down onto the bed, reached into his pocket and offered Sirius a Morning After Misery Mintimiser. Sirius eyed the packet suspiciously. “Where’d you get those?”
“Bathroom.”
The suspicion turned to a quizzical expression. “And you needed hangover mints because..?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Remus said.
“Up all night debating what to wear, finally coming to the conclusion that you’re so unfashionable you should drink yourself to death?”
“Something like that,” Remus said, leaning back on the bed. Sirius took a mint and sucked on it thoughtfully.
“You should have woken me up,” Sirius said. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
It was Remus’ turn to look quizzical. “If you weren’t asleep, how could I wake you up?” Sirius waved his objection aside.
“Would have been like old times.”
“Hmm.”
They were both lost in thought for a moment, and Remus watched a cloud that bore a striking resemblance to Mundungus Fletcher drift across the sky.
“Decided what to wear, then?” Sirius said.
“No.”
“Decided what to do?”
“Not entirely.”
“You’re all set, then?”
“Yes.”
Sirius offered him a thoughtful smirk, which Remus knew meant trouble. “You know what this reminds me of?” he said.
“No, what?”
“The first time you went out with a girl.”
“Ah,” Remus said.
“You were so nervous - ”
“And of course you and James made everything easier by ribbing me about it at every turn and making kissing noises behind my back.”
“That’s what mates are for,” Sirius said. “And it could have been worse - I mean we had that confetti charm over the front door rigged to go off when you were leaving with her, and we didn’t use it as a mark of respect.”
“Hmm,” Remus said. “As I recall, you didn’t use it because James got distracted by Lily and forgot to send the signal.”
He got up again, and turned back to the wardrobe, opening the doors and staring at the dismal sartorial selection in front of him. He took in his two pairs of trousers - one grey and one darker grey, his shirts in a selection of different whites, used-to-be-whites, and off-whites, and his collection of oh-so-very-similar V neck pullovers. He sighed.
“You know, if you can’t find anything suitable in there, you could always borrow something of mine,” Sirius said, and before Remus could stop him, Sirius had reached for his wand and Summoned a black T Shirt, which sported the legend ‘Nutter’ and a picture of a squirrel. Sirius held it out hopefully, and Remus laughed.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “It’s more you than me.”
Sirius shrugged and Banished the T shirt back across the hall. “Of course that’s not the only option,” Sirius said, with a vaguely wicked grin. There was a faint ‘whoosh’ and another article of clothing appeared - only this time it was a high-collared set of women’s dress robes, with ornate black lace around the collar and intricate green fluting on the sleeves. Remus raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not sure it’s that kind of a do,” he said.
“Shame,” Sirius said, “because I think this line would be really flattering on you. I’m sure we could transfigure you a nice pair of stilettos to go with it.”
“I hardly think Tonks’ parents will take kindly to me turning up at their house in drag.”
Sirius let out a long, amused sigh. “Are you sure you don’t want to try it on?” he said. Remus answered him by raising an eyebrow. “Fair enough. I think you’re missing a trick, though.”
“How so?”
“Well you being a tranny’d take their mind off the fact that you’re a werewolf, wouldn’t it?”
Remus laughed quietly. He supposed that was a very good point - and it would be an approach he hadn’t tried before. “Wear those,” Sirius said abruptly, and Remus turned to see him pointing at the darker pair of grey trousers. Remus pulled out the hanger, and gestured to them, raising an eyebrow at Sirius in question. “They make your arse look nice.”
Remus nearly dropped the hanger in surprise, and eyed Sirius aghast. “Have you been - when have you noticed my arse?”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Well it is in plain view a great deal of the time, Moony. I just notice these things. Nothing wrong with that.”
Remus swallowed. He supposed that was true, although he was a little disconcerted that Sirius might have formed an opinion. “What?” Sirius said defensively. “Now a man can’t look at another man’s posterior without him getting snippy about it?”
“I’m not - ”
“I was just paying you a compliment. And you want it to look nice, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose,” Remus said, a little flummoxed by the tone the conversation had adopted. His brow dipped thoughtfully. “And they really - ”
“Like a peach in a hanky.”
“Right.”
Remus lay the trousers over the back of the chair, and turned back to his selection of jumpers and shirts. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the turn the conversation had taken. “Any - erm - preference?” he said, gesturing vaguely back at the rail and then glancing at Sirius in question.
“That one,” Sirius said, pointing to a cream-coloured shirt that was a little frayed around the cuffs, but otherwise in pretty good nick. “Takes the edge off your pasty skin. Warms it up a bit.”
“Oh.”
“And I like the one you’re already wearing,” Sirius said, gesturing to his slate grey V neck.
“Right.”
Remus sank back onto the bed, feeling confused. It must have shown on his face, because Sirius shifted back a bit, and regarded him inquiringly. “What?” he said eventually, when Remus didn’t say anything.
“Nothing - just - why are you being so helpful?”
Sirius looked momentarily as if Remus had just accused him of something desperately unsavoury, and then he sat up straight and nudged Remus’ arm with his elbow. “I just want things to go okay. And I know you worry about this stuff, so….”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“I know how much you like her,” Sirius said. Remus was just about to chip in with a comment about how grateful he was for his friend’s concern and support, when he continued. “Apart from anything else I’m desperate for you to get your leg over and tell me all the juicy details. Vicarious is the best I can hope for these days. I mean seriously, have you any idea how long it’s been? My balls are like - ”
Remus closed his eyes and held up his hand for quiet. Sirius laughed. “Seriously, though,” he said, “I hope things go all right. Hard to see how they wouldn’t, though, really, if you’re wearing those trousers.”
Remus laughed. He hoped Sirius was right.
Remus stood in the kitchen, staring at Tonks. Well, not staring so much as exchanging a series of nervous half-glances with her to prove that he wasn’t afraid to look at her, even though he was.
They hadn’t actually seen each other for two weeks, not since before the note-writing started, and now, face to face with her, he found himself stuck for words. And facial expressions.
He’d gone down to the kitchen early, thinking that he’d have a few minutes to collect himself, to think of some warm, witty, greeting to set things off on the right note, and so when he’d come upon her waiting for him at the table it had shaken him a little. His eyebrows had leapt up in surprise and stayed there, despite his best efforts, and Tonks’ face had lit up in an expression of hopeful expectation that, now minutes had passed without him coming up with anything to say, seemed a little forced.
He swallowed, desperately trying to think of something witty and warm to say.
Or anything at all. He thought at this point he’d settle for neutral - or even cold and distant - anything to quash the oppressively silent atmosphere in the grim kitchen.
Remus couldn’t help thinking that, despite his lack of suitability as a catalogue boyfriend, he was a lot better at this kind of thing on paper.
“Wotcher,” Tonks said. He wondered if he’d imagined the slight tentative inflection to her ‘Wotcher’, or if he was just hearing what he wanted to hear, if it was wishful thinking that she was as nervous about this as he was.
“Hello,” he said, unable to hide the slight, tentative inflection of his own voice.
Tonks smiled, although he couldn’t tell if it was at the tentative inflection, or something else entirely. Whatever the cause, his heart sang. She was so beautiful when she smiled.
“How’ve you been?” she said. “Seems like it’s been ages….”
She trailed off and shrugged uncertainly, biting her lip, and as her eyes trailed over him and smiled appreciatively, it did strange things to his insides. He made a mental note to thank Sirius for his sartorial advice. “Good,” he said quickly, hoping to save her the embarrassment of an uneasy silence. “You? How’s work?”
“Good,” she echoed. “And - busy. Hence the - er - no seeing thing.”
“Right.”
He offered her a cautious smile, which she returned, and for a moment, they sank into the uneasy silence he’d been so keen to avoid and just looked at each other, brows weighed down by the weight of all the unsaid things in the air, lips pressed together in an effort to battle nerves.
Remus’ mind was a frenzy of nothing in particular as he groped about its dusty corners for something to say that wasn’t asinine or didn’t completely give away how much he liked her, how much he’d looked forward to spending the day with her.
He cleared his throat, and Tonks looked up at him expectantly.
Oh now you’ve done it, he thought. Now you’ve got to say something.
He opened his mouth and let out the first thing that occurred. “I suppose we’d better get going,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to make you late.”
Tonks smiled faintly, her eyes losing some of their brightness in disappointment, and he mentally kicked himself. Of course what he should have said was that he liked her T shirt, and that the shade of blue she’d picked for her hair was very fetching. “I thought we could Apparate,” she said, dropping her hands into her pockets and looking up at him through her dark blue fringe. “Bit more dignified than arriving covered in soot.”
Remus nodded his agreement, and lead the way up the steps and out of the kitchen. They shuffled along the hall in silence. After a brief ‘after you,’ ‘no, after you,’ ‘no, I insist,’ fiasco at the front door where they both stepped forward at the same moment and bumped into each other, they found themselves blinking in the daylight outside Grimmauld Place, with the building and the usual parameters of their relationship shrinking away behind them.
Remus offered Tonks a rather feeble-feeling smile of encouragement, and they set off towards the cluster of trees in the middle of the square and the Apparation point. He was determined to say something - anything - but his usual eloquence and conversational ease seemed to have deserted him. At this rate, even if she had been interested, he was being so weird and dull she was probably glad he hadn’t made a move.
He racked his brain. “So is it a special occasion?” he asked, realising that he’d had at least half of the conversation that needed to precede his question in his own head. “I mean, for your parents.”
“Twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,” Tonks said, her eyes a little brighter now he’d actually said something.
“Oh,” Remus said. “I didn’t realise they’d been married that long.”
“Neither did dad,” Tonks said. “Mum went mental when she realised he’d forgotten.”
“He forgot?” Remus said, aghast, some of his unease abating.
“Hmm,” Tonks replied, meeting his eye askance, hers twinkling ever so slightly. “He came home from work and asked what all the owls were for, apparently, and when mum started turning his work robes into mashed potato, he got the idea that maybe he’d missed something.”
“Ah,” Remus said, grinning at the thought. “And so the party’s to smooth things over?”
“I don’t know,” Tonks said, rolling her eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh. “I think he’s claiming it was a surprise he had planned all along, and the whole forgetting the actual date thing was just a ruse.”
“Did your mum believe him?”
“He’s still breathing, isn’t he?” Tonks said, and he chuckled softly. “It’ll probably be hell on legs,” she added, frowning at him apologetically. He offered her a tentative smile.
“Then I’m glad I decided to accept your invite,” he said, and Tonks smiled back and nudged his arm with her elbow.
“Me too,” she said softly, and he wondered if he imagined the faint blush on her cheek.
They Apparated to a spot behind a clump of trees that was well hidden from the road, and stepped out onto a quiet street, packed with exactly identical houses. “Welcome to suburbia,” Tonks said, waving at their surroundings lazily.
Remus took in the perfectly manicured lawns that looked as if they’d been trimmed to millimetre perfection, the curtains that hung at perfect angles that framed every window, and the impeccable nets, behind which he imagined a gaggle of identical house-wives were lurking. If anything, the place reminded him uncomfortably of Privet Drive, and all of a sudden he knew why Tonks had been so quick to suggest the Best Kept Lawn competition, and why it had seemed such a perfect fit for the Dursleys.
Remus felt his brow dip into a frown. He’d never given much thought to where Tonks grew up, but now they were here, he couldn’t help thinking that there was something completely incongruous about Tonks coming from somewhere so, well, ordinary. The very last thing in the world she was was ordinary.
They walked to a house with a tastefully varnished oak door, and Tonks met his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him slightly. “Ready?” she said.
“As I’ll ever be,” he said. “If there aren’t any sausage rolls I’m going to be mightily disappointed.”
Tonks affected an offended bristle at his words, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Chopped pork aperitifs in chough pastry, if you please,” she said, her tone playfully posh and clipped. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
He sniggered quietly to himself, and Tonks knocked on the door. It was opened almost immediately by a tall, stately-looking witch with a pale, oval face and long brown hair that hung, impeccably, on her shoulders, every inch as trimmed to perfection as the lawns outside.
Unmistakably, it was Andromeda. He remembered her vaguely from school, although he’d been far too lowly a first year for her to bother to speak to. “Nymphadora! You’re on time! And you brought a - ” Andromeda’s grey eyes turned to Remus, and swept appraisingly over him.
Remus thought he actually felt himself shrink a couple of inches under the weight of her stare as she took in his shabby shirt, tatty grey jumper, and trousers that had seen distinctly better days. Her nostrils flared in what he supposed might well be disapproval, and then she fixed him with a blatantly false smile that radiated all the genuine warmth of a beauty queen. “ - guest.”
Remus smiled as best he could when he evidently didn’t even warrant use of the word ‘friend’. “Don’t call me Nymphadora, mum,” Tonks said, rolling her eyes and then shooting Remus a quick, furtively apologetic, glance. Andromeda stepped aside, and Tonks shooed Remus into the hall, squashing him against the wall as she closed the door behind them. “Mum, this is Remus, Remus, this is my mum, Andromeda,” she said.
Remus extended his hand, and Andromeda gripped it limply and offered it a cursory shake. “Lovely to meet you,” she said, although her tone was as cold as snow.
“You too,” Remus said. “It’s a pleasure.”
Andromeda turned to her daughter, her eyebrows dipping in puzzlement as they raked over Tonks’ hair. “Nympha - ”
“Mum, please. It’s Tonks.”
“I’m not about to call my own daughter by her surname,” Andromeda said testily. “Besides, Nymphadora is a perfectly lovely name. Wouldn’t you agree, Remus?”
Both sets of eyes turned to him. He shied away towards a gilt-framed Constable print on the wall.
Hell.
Remus swallowed, realising that he was trapped between two formidable women, both of whom expected him to agree with them, and both of whom he suspected knew some pretty inventive hexes for men who failed to do so. He glanced quickly between Tonks, who was raising her eyebrows expectantly at him with the threat of a glower hovering just beneath the surface, and Andromeda, whose nostrils flared in warning. “Erm - ”
He was saved from his conversational minefield by the appearance of a dark-haired, middle aged wizard, who was wearing a navy and white striped polo shirt that was stretched tightly across his slightly podgy stomach. “Who’s this then?” he said, glancing between Tonks and Remus with a curiousness that seemed oddly familiar.
“Hello, dad,” Tonks said, stepping forward and giving her father a peck on the cheek. “This is Remus.”
“Ted,” the man said, reaching for Remus’ extended hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” Remus said as Ted pumped his hand enthusiastically.
“Drink?” Ted said, his dark eyes sparkling.
Remus smiled at Ted in reply. He thought a drink was probably exactly what he neeeded.
A drink certainly took the edge of Remus’ nerves, and he’d started to enjoy the tingle of anticipation in his stomach.
The party was in full swing, or about as full a swing as Remus thought it was ever likely to get. A small collection of witches and wizards in tastefully understated dress robes were gathered in the lounge, perching neatly on the edge of the green and cream-striped sofa and armchairs, while he and Tonks hovered at the heavily party-food laden dining table in the adjoining room. It was a strange kind of a place - from the outside it was entirely suburban, but inside wizarding portraits mingled with Muggle prints, magical artefacts with Muggle sporting memorabilia. The nod to the air of supposed celebration was a banner above the fireplace sporting the legend ‘Happy Wedding Anniversary’, and a couple of balloons charmed to sing ‘You Are The Sunshine of My Life’, which hovered above the buffet and launched into song whenever someone approached for a vol au vont.
A low murmur of conversation that sounded oddly tinged with disapproval permeated the room, and Andromeda fluttered about making sure everyone had drinks, and making polite inquiries about relatives’ health, work, and the weather in their neck of the woods. Ted, on the other hand, was happily ensconced in a scruffy-looking mustard yellow armchair in the corner, telling jokes about three nuns and a hippogriff to two of what Remus thought probably constituted his dodgy mates.
Caught between the two extremes - Andromeda’s formality and Ted’s…less stuffy approach - Tonks and Remus had stuck together, making polite conversation about how dreadful the weather in Cornwall had been this summer with a grey-haired and very upright wizard named Nicholas, chatting about how great the cake looked with a plump witch named Greta, and perusing the buffet table at leisure.
And peruse they did - they started at opposite ends of the spread and met in the middle to compare notes - Tonks said the crab sticks were a contribution from one of Ted’s dodgy mates and possibly best avoided, while he heartily recommenced the cucumber sandwiches and offered her a bite-sized piece of toast, impeccably spread with a neat triangle of pate and topped with a tomato.
All in all, Remus thought things were going well.
Until, that was, he made Tonks laugh with a lame joke about Kingsley and his earring, and she dropped Branston Pickle on her top, causing Andromeda to tut words like ‘unlady-like’ and ‘menace to condiments’. Tonks looked so utterly dejected and embarrassed that he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t think of anything particularly heroic, but he managed to distract Andromeda with a compliment about her chopped pork in chough pastry aperitifs, and when Andromeda stopped tutting and blinked in incomprehension, telling him that they were, in fact, just sausage rolls, Tonks laughed so hard she had to cling to the edge of the table to stay upright and nearly upset the whole lot. Nonetheless, his compliment earned Remus a smile from Andromeda that had a scintilla of genuine feeling behind it, which seemed like progress, and an all out grin from Tonks, which allowed him to enjoy the cucumber sandwiches even more than he would have ordinarily.
There was a slightly dodgy moment when Ted came over and asked how long they’d been courting, and in his haste not to give Ted the wrong impression, Remus came across as sounding horrified at the very suggestion, but apart from that, things hadn’t gone too badly. And he’d cleared the whole thing up with Tonks via a series of intricate eyebrow raises that he hoped conveyed that he just meant that they weren’t, that he wouldn’t have any objections to the idea. He thought she’d got the message. She hadn’t turned his robes to mashed potato, anyway.
He tried not to read things into how close Tonks was standing to him, how she laughed at his jokes and beamed as he laughed at hers, but he couldn’t help it. He thought she was wonderful. She’d even thrown in a spectacular diversion when Andromeda had cornered him and asked what he did for a living - suggesting, quite loudly, that Mrs Barnstaple next door’s roses were looking championship quality and were bound to take all the rosettes at the next fete, which had caused a flurry of activity - neck craning and pointing out aphid patches - and a frenzy of debate, for most of the rest of the afternoon. He couldn’t stop grinning at the thought of how quickly she’d leapt in to save him a tricky, potentially embarrassing, situation.
Stevie Wonder bursting into song behind him jolted Remus out of his thoughts, and he looked down to find Tonks reaching for the plate of sausage rolls. She wiggled them in front of him for a moment. “So when you said you’d do anything for a sausage roll,” she said, “where exactly would you draw the line?”
Remus glanced between her and the plate of sausage rolls, and as he met her eye she smiled and raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ve never had much cause to test the boundaries.”
“Hmm.”
Tonks pursed her lips in thought, and then leant in close. “Would you run naked round the garden?” she said, her eyes glittering with mischief as she watched his reaction. Remus shot a furtive glance at Tonks’ parents, convinced that neither of them would be particularly enamoured of the conversation they were having within hearing range of the Axminster, but finding them both busy with their respective friends, he leant in.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Although I’d have to be careful, what with all those rose bushes. I could do myself a terrible mischief on the thorns.”
Tonks tittered quietly, gripping the plate firmly in an attempt not to drop them. “Would you snog Doris?”
“Which one’s Doris?”
“The one with the lazy eye who smells of bruise-healing salve and damp dog.”
“Ah,” Remus said, taking in the witch in question. He met Tonks’ eye again and raised an eyebrow. “For the whole plate?” She nodded. “And when you say snog - ”
“With tongues.”
Remus sniggered, even though he thought sniggering in a man of his age over the words ‘snog’ and ‘tongues’ was a bit unseemly. “Yes,” he said, and Tonks gaped at him.
“Really?”
“Hmm. Support stockings aside, she’s quite a looker.”
Tonks closed her mouth and the corners twitched in the briefest hint of a smile that he thought indicated she was slightly impressed. “Would you - ” She paused, pressing her lips together in thought, glancing up at the Artexed ceiling for inspiration. “ - I know. Would you eat a slice of pate on toast that’d been dropped pate-side down on the carpet?”
“Oh now really Tonks,” he said, affecting his best stern Professor voice. He waited for her eyebrows to dip as if she couldn’t quite tell whether or not he was being serious - and then continued. “ - of course I would.”
She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly, and he leant in closer - so close that her light, grassy perfume surrounded him, and very nearly made him forget what he was going to say. “I’m a werewolf whose best friend turns into a dog. I can assure you that I’ve had much worse things in my mouth than carpet fluff.”
Tonks laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to keep quiet. “Well,” she said, casting her eyes over him appraisingly. “I’m impressed by the depths to which you’d sink for a sausage roll.”
“So which’ll it be?” he said. Tonks offered him the plate.
“I’m letting you off the hook for now,” she said. “I’m just keeping it in mind in case I ever need you to do anything.”
Remus smiled and reached for a sausage roll, wondering if he should tell her that if she ever wanted him to do anything, she was unlikely to need a bribe.
As the sun set, the cake - a rather impressive white slab with glittering silver icing and impeccable sugar flowers - was cut, Ted made a speech about the secret of a good marriage being admitting when you’re wrong and shutting up when you’re right, and everyone laughed and toasted with whatever was at hand.
Soon after, they were bidding a rather fonder farewell than they had a greeting to a slightly tipsy Andromeda and a Ted that was distinctly two sheets to the wind. Remus thought Ted probably would have hugged him if he’d have been able to get out of his arm chair.
They stood on the quiet suburban pavement, with the early evening stars twinkling above them, and Remus revelled in the quiet after the chatter, in being alone with Tonks after being surrounded. “Well,” Tonks said, meeting his eye with something that looked a bit like encouragement, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “thanks for coming.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “All I had planned this afternoon was attacking the shelves in the library with a dusting charm.”
“Oh,” Tonks said, her face falling just a little. Remus winced.
“Not that - ” He sighed, wondering why he was so useless at this, and then met her eye. “I didn’t come just because I had nothing better to do,” he said quietly, touching her elbow lightly in reassurance.
“Oh.”
Tonks’ second ‘oh’ had been rather more hopeful than the first, and he bit back a smile at the thought. They were both quiet for a moment, and somewhere in the distance a dog let out a well-timed and rather elegant bark, as if it were on a timer, and some birds took flight above them, twittering as they went.
“Why did you come, then?” Tonks said softly, and the rest of the world - Ted and Andromeda’s house behind them, the quiet street, the manicured lawns - dissolved into a suburban blur.
The only thing that existed for him were her questioning eyes on his. He swallowed. He really didn’t want to blow it now, not when - what with the sausage rolls and the laughing over spilt pickle - things had been going so well. “We hadn’t seen each other in ages,” he said, gazing at her as sincerely as he dared. “I thought - well, I thought it’d be nice to spend the day with you.”
Tonks pressed her lips together, her eyes roving his face as she thought. “You know,” she said slowly, “you can spend the day with me any time you want. You just have to ask.”
Remus felt his lips twitch in nervous amusement. “Oh,” he said. He knew she’d just given him license to ask her out, and the twinkle of expectation in her eyes made his heart dance, and yet he couldn’t quite find the words. He grimaced at his own ineptitude. “I’m really much better at this kind of thing on paper.”
“Well that’s easily fixed,” Tonks said brightly, and she took out her wand and conjured a small sheet of parchment and a ready-inked flamboyant peacock-feather quill. She raised an eyebrow at him, her eyes dancing cheekily, and then bent slightly, unfurling the parchment against her thigh and scribbling on it furiously. She folded the note neatly in half, and then handed it to him.
He took it from her with a smile, and slowly opened it. It read:
Remus,
I’m so sorry I dragged you to this.
He reached to take the quill, Vanishing her words with his wand so he could replace them with his own:
I did say I’d do anything for a sausage roll.
He folded the parchment neatly and handed it to her, chancing a glance at her as she read, and watching, fascinated, as she let out a soft, breathy snigger. She composed a quick reply, handing it to him and coyly biting her lip.
Surely this was above and beyond, even for cheese and pineapple on a stick.
He laughed, taking the quill from her fingers, brushing hers gently with his as he did so and feeling a shiver-like thrill pass right through him.
Not at all. I had a lovely time.
She smiled at the words he’d written and then took back the quill, her fingertips lingering just slightly too long on his hand.
I don’t believe that for a second, but you’re sweet for saying it.
Remus toyed with plenty of ideas for what he might write next - he could tell her that earlier, he’d meant to say that he thought she looked lovely, that spending the day with her, sausage rolls or not, would always be a pleasure and never a chore, but the more he thought about it, the more only one thing seemed to fit the bill.
He scribbled the note, handed it to her, and waited for her to read what he’d written. His heart pounded against the inside of his chest so forcefully he wondered if the neighbours could hear it.
Tonks -
Look up.
She did, and in the same instant, he caught her face in his hand and drew her closer, not hesitating or over-thinking before touching his lips to hers. The parchment crinkled against his chest as she pressed against it and responded, and Remus felt as if he was dissolving. Her kiss was sweet and yet insistent, and he felt his own longing echoed in the movement of her lips over his, and as her hand clutched his shoulder he thought he’d collapse. His fingers worked their way into her blue hair all of their own accord as he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, and he smiled a little against her mouth at how she tasted faintly of the Butterbeer they’d drunk earlier. He idly wondered if this was the most shocking thing this street had seen in a very long time. If it was, he didn’t care.
Eventually, he pulled away, and Tonks smiled at him, eyes twinkling and making his insides shake and his heart soar. “Wotcher,” she said softly.
“Hi,” he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She grinned, and let out a soft breath of laughter.
They gazed at each other for a moment - but it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward or any of the things he’d feared it might be - they were simply savouring it, he thought. “What now?” Tonks said quietly.
Remus nodded off towards the horizon, where the sun had disappeared, leaving the sky a crisp, yellowy-blue. “We appear to have missed the sunset we could have walked off into,” he said.
“Well that’s your fault,” she said. “If you hadn’t eaten all those sausage - ”
He cut her off with another kiss, holding her tightly against him and savouring every single second, and when they finally broke apart, Remus swore he saw the nets behind them in Ted and Andromeda’s lounge window twitch back into place. He wondered if, inside, nostrils were flaring with disapproval, or if they’d simply replaced Mrs Barnstaple’s roses as the hot topic of conversation.
They agreed to go back to Grimmauld together for a drink, and as they walked away into the twilight, Remus couldn’t help thinking how ridiculous he’d been to be so nervous. His worries - the serious ones about how unsuitable he was and the not so serious about what to wear - now seemed miles away, and somehow he’d always known that she’d be the one to make him forget.
It was certainly still true that on paper he didn’t have a lot going for him, but he was slowly coming to realise that all he needed going for him was a witch with multi-coloured hair who liked him in person - and she was holding his hand.
Author: ladybracknell
Rating and Warnings: PG 13
Prompts: A feather quill, Ted and Andromeda’s house, a day together after time spent apart and romantic comedy.
Word Count: 9,704
Summary: Remus is acting like a sixth-former with a crush, and now the object of his affection has invited him home to meet her parents.
Author’s Notes: Reference to cross-dressing is dedicated to mrstater ;). Enjoy!
Remus chewed the end of his quill thoughtfully.
Immediately he wished that he hadn’t, and spat out a couple of bits which had stuck to his tongue. He picked them off as best he could, and wiped his tongue across the back of his hand, gagging slightly. What was he thinking, chewing thoughtfully on the end of a feather? He didn’t even know where it had been.
Well, he thought, that’s not true. He knew exactly where it had been. Until quite recently, he suspected, it had adorned the tail of a - by the looks of it - rather splendid eagle, but knowing that hardly made absentmindedly putting it in his mouth any better.
His mind had, evidently, been elsewhere.
He stared again at the note in his hands, wondering what to make of it.
Remus,
Have to go to uber-boring party at The Parents’. If I don’t show up with someone, they’ll try and fix me up with one of dad’s dodgy mates. Any chance you fancy coming with me and saving me from a fate worse than death?
Ta,
Tonks.
PS. Would have asked in person, but haven’t managed to run into you in ages, figuratively or literally.
Remus read the note through another couple of times, but her words gave up no more semantic clues than they had on his first read through.
He still didn’t know quite what to make of it.
Remus had liked Tonks for months, pretty much since he’d met her - she’d reached for his hand as Moody introduced them, tripped over the rug and uttered the words ‘Oh bloody buggering hell!’, which he’d thought was desperately endearing. He smiled at the thought - even though just thinking it, he could hear Sirius laughing at him and saying that only he would find being sworn at by way of a greeting endearing.
How much he liked her had dawned on him over time. One day he’d felt a pang of disappointment and annoyance that she wasn’t in a meeting, having not realised until she wasn’t there how much he’d been looking forward to seeing her. The meeting had turned into a blur around him as he’d sat, wondering where she was, hoping she was all right, thinking how much he missed the way she rolled her eyes at Snape and chuckled softly at his side when Moody told them all to be constantly vigilant for the eighteenth time in as many minutes.
A week later he’d found himself running his hand through his hair and trying to rearrange it into some shape that didn’t look ridiculous before she arrived and wondering if what he was wearing looked all right.
And then a week after that, they’d been on a mission together, sitting outside the Dursley’s for half the night, and they’d exchanged stories about their lives to pass the time, and he’d noticed for the first time how witty she could be. He’d invited her back to Grimmauld for a cocoa to warm up afterwards, and she’d said yes. It had surprised him, a little, that she hadn’t just laughed in his face, told him that there were a million things she’d rather do at three o’clock in the morning than drink a mug of cocoa in a dreary basement with a boring former professor.
Then he’d started to notice things about her. He liked the way she stood, with all her weight on one leg, and her hands in her pockets, regarding the world with a kind of casual intrigue, as if she was just waiting for the next opportunity to laugh at or be surprised by something. He liked the way she smiled, which she did a lot, especially when they were on their own, and the way her eyes always twinkled with the suggestion that she thinking about doing something she knew she shouldn’t.
One day, not long ago, he’d found her in the kitchen, reaching for something on a high shelf. The absurd puce T shirt she was wearing had ridden up slightly, and he’d noticed the dimples at the base of her spine. And that just - well it just…. It was as if the image of them was forever imprinted on his brain, and he couldn’t stop picturing himself running his fingers over them.
And that was when he’d known he was in trouble.
That was when it had suddenly dawned on him why he’d been acting like a sixteen year old around her, why he’d tried to make her laugh, why he’d cared what he looked like, why his heart sank when she wasn’t where he thought she was going to be.
Of course it had occurred to him that he could scarcely have picked a worse time to fall in love if he’d tried, but his heart had never been a sensible organ, or even remotely connected to his brain, and it, apparently, didn’t care.
It had occurred to him too that just because he had figured out how he felt, it didn’t mean that she felt the same, and he’d lost many a night to lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, analysing things she’d said, the way she’d acted, any accidental brush of her hand against his, her shoulder against his, for clues, hints, any indication, however small and seemingly insignificant that maybe, just maybe she did like him too.
And now he had a note, from her, inviting him to spend the day with her, away from here, away from The Order, away from everyone. It was phrased like a casual enquiry - she could pass it off as a favour for a friend, and yet he wasn’t sure that there was anything casual about it at all.
It was enough to make any man absentmindedly chew on the end of a feather quill, he thought.
Dear Tonks,
The word ‘dear’ glared at him accusingly from the parchment, and so he took out his wand and Vanished it.
Tonks -
Now, should he be flirty? he wondered. They’d been inching towards something approaching flirty for a while - in fact, he thought they may well have passed flirty and headed into something more blatant - at least if the gagging noises and references to him filling his boots up Sirius had taken to making were anything to go by. He decided against it, just in case this was a casual, friendly invitation, and not the kind that gave his heart reason to dance a tango in his chest.
Tonks -
Was most flattered by your invitation. Always nice to be a more appealing prospect than one of someone’s dad’s dodgy mates. If I accept, what might I expect in return?
Remus.
He read the note through a couple of times, and then crossed the room, went out into the corridor, and pinned it to Tonks’ door before he could change his mind.
As he returned to his own room, he wondered why he hadn’t knocked to see if she was in.
Remus,
What can you expect in return? You mean apart from one of my mum’s killer buffets?
Dunno. What would you like? Maybe I’ll take one of your weekend shifts so you can go out with that girl Sirius keeps telling me you’ve got major lust for.
Tonks.
Remus’ snigger at the thought of what might constitute a ‘killer buffet’, especially for a former member of the Black family, died on his tongue as he got to the part about Sirius talking to Tonks about his ‘major lust’. His brow creased in consternation as he wondered how long it would take for Sirius to get drunk enough to tell Tonks that she was the girl in question.
He picked up his quill, tickling his bottom lip with the end of it while he thought.
Tonks -
He stalled. Hardly promising to get writer’s block one word in, he thought. He chewed the end of his quill, remembering too late that that resulted in predictable tongue-feathering. He made a mental note to buy a quill of the sugar variety at the first available opportunity. Especially if this was going to become a regular occurrence. Which he hoped it would, because coming back from an eight hour shift listening to Arthur talk about his various theories on a Muggle Teasmade had been made all the more pleasant by finding a jovial note from Tonks pinned to his door.
The small portion of Sirius’ brain that wasn’t addled by Azkaban has, I fear, been eroded by Firewhiskey - ergo, you should take anything he says about my lust - major, minor, or otherwise - with a pinch of salt the size of Gibraltar.
How killer a buffet are we talking? It’s a well documented fact that I will do anything for a sausage roll.
Remus.
He thought about adding a couple of kisses after his name, but ultimately decided against it, and got up, pinning the note to Tonks’ door on his way to the kitchen for some well chosen words with Sirius about keeping his great big trap shut.
Remus awoke to the sound of paper rustling its way underneath his door. He waited, his skin prickling with anticipation, until Tonks’ footsteps had receded, and then got up to read the note.
Remus,
I daresay there will be sausage rolls, although no doubt my mother will call them ‘bite-sized, chopped pork aperitifs in a light chough pastry’, and serve them with a plum tomato sauce that she’ll swear blind isn’t ketchup.
So can you be persuaded? I’d be grateful, and I’m sure you’d quite like having a young, hot-blooded witch in your debt.
Tonks.
Remus took a quick steadying breath. She couldn’t possibly have written what he thought she’d written. He must be dreaming. He pinched himself sharply on the wrist, winced at the pain that was entirely un-dreamlike, and read the sentence again, swallowing when he realised that she had written what he thought she had.
He debated replying for a moment, and then decided that it was far too early to be thinking even remotely flirtatious thoughts or to wrap his sleep-addled brain around words like ‘hot-blooded’, and went down to the kitchen for a fortifying cup of tea.
Sirius looked up from the table, and regarded him from underneath distinctly heavy-lidded eyes. “Morning,” he said gruffly.
“Morning,” Remus returned.
He crossed the room and tapped the kettle to re-heat it, Summoning the things he needed to make the strong cup of tea he was so desperately in need of. Remus tried to keep his face neutral, although the words ‘young, hot-blooded witch’ kept circling his brain like vultures, picking away every other thought he had, and, he suspected, leaving him with a rather dazed expression. He swallowed.
“You just missed Tonks,” Sirius said, his voice bending suggestively. Remus avoided his eyes, concentrating instead on making his tea and selecting a couple of digestives from the biscuit barrel on the work surface.
“Did I?”
Sirius’ murmur of reply was distinctly amused, and Remus sighed. He sank down into a chair and regarded his friend across the table. “Don’t pretend you’re not interested,” Sirius said, reaching across the table and stealing one of Remus’ biscuits, “because I know you are.”
Remus raised an eyebrow by way of reply, and Sirius dunked his biscuit in his tea. “You don’t share a room with someone for seven years and not pick up on how they act when they’ve got a crush on someone.”
Remus watched as half of Sirius’ biscuit dropped into his tea with a vaguely apologetic 'splosh'. Sirius swore, Summoned a spoon from the dresser and fished the limp, soggy biscuit bits out of his tea, and Remus grimaced as he slurped them off the spoon. “What?” Sirius said, meeting his horrified expression with a perplexed frown. “Waste not, want not.”
“Good to know a stint in prison hasn’t improved your manners any,” Remus said, wearily sipping his tea.
Sirius glowered at him half-heartedly for a moment, but Remus knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long, especially when there was the prospect of a girl to be talked about. He waited, and eventually Sirius took a sip of his drink, swallowing his glower along with it. He set his mug down, and leant towards Remus, his eyes dancing inquisitively.
“So how goes the quest for the fair Nymphadora, then?” Sirius said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Have you snogged her yet?”
“You make me sound like a sixth former with a crush on the girl I sit next to in Astronomy.”
“You’re acting like a sixth former with a crush on the girl you sit next to in Astronomy,” Sirius returned defensively, crossing his arms. “I saw you checking your hair in the silverware the other day before she came in.”
Remus suppressed a smile with difficulty, hiding it behind his mug. “I like to look presentable for meetings.”
Sirius raised a single, disbelieving, eyebrow. “And what’s with the note-passing?” he said.
“We just haven’t seen each other in a while,” Remus said.
“It’s not exactly bolstering your ‘I’m not a sixth-former’ case.”
“I suppose it isn’t,” Remus said. He folded his arms across his chest in playful petulance, biting back a chuckle. “But she started it.”
Sirius laughed, and Remus sniggered quietly to himself as he balanced his mug against his forearm. “What’s the problem, anyway?” Sirius said. “Why are you still at the cute note-passing stage, and not at the pinning her to the wall in the hall and giving those elf heads something to look shocked about stage?”
Remus dropped his elbow onto the table, leaning heavily on his hand. That was a very good question. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had the opportunity to move things in a more romantic direction - they were often alone, and Tonks always took him up on his offer of a late night cocoa or Butterbeer after their missions together. He massaged his temple with his fingertips, wondering how he could feel this weary when he’d only just got up. “I don’t know,” he said.
It wasn’t strictly true. He knew he liked her, and he was pretty certain she liked him. Maybe that was it. Pretty certain. Maybe he needed to be more than pretty certain.
Sirius rocked back in his chair and considered him across the table for a moment, and Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure whether he’d like where this was going. Even though he never asked for - and would certainly think more than twice about taking - Sirius’ advice on girls, he couldn’t help wondering what his old friend thought. “She likes you, you know,” he said. “And you could do a lot worse.”
“Of that I am keenly aware,” Remus said quietly, toying with a chip on the handle of his mug.
“What is it, then? You like her, she likes you - I mean I know this kind of thing isn’t exactly your strong suit, but it’s not as if it needs to be when she’s practically drooling on your shoes.”
Remus bit back a grin with difficulty. It was good to hear those kinds of endorsements from someone else - proof, almost, that he hadn’t imagined her interest. “It’s not as simple as that, though, is it?” Remus said, wondering if he was saying it more to himself than Sirius.
“Isn’t it? I mean what do you need, Moony, a bloody diagram?”
Remus glared half-heartedly at Sirius for a moment, and Sirius looked away, obviously trying not to laugh. “Let’s hear them, then,” he said.
“Hear what?” Remus asked.
“Your objections.”
Remus sighed. Sirius probably had them all worked out already - he just wanted to make him say them out loud so he could refute them - as he always did. Even at school, when Remus had spent months pondering whether it was fair to ask a girl out when she didn’t know what he was, Sirius and James had stumped up ten points for every objection he raised. “She’s half my age, for a start,” he said, sitting up and taking a sip of his tea.
“Three quarters,” Sirius returned. “Next?”
“I don’t really have a lot to - ” Sirius’ eyes darkened, and he dropped his chin and glowered menacingly.
“If you say ‘offer’ I’ll hex you to next Christmas and back.”
“It’s true - I don’t.”
“That’s bollocks, and you know it. It’s not about the money, is it? Girls like effort and blokes who listen, and - ” He waved vaguely, his brow wrinkling with deep thought. “ - stuff.”
Remus sighed in vague acquiescence. Financial matters weren’t his primary concern, although it did bother him, the idea of anything with him being less than second best when Tonks deserved nothing of the sort.
“And then there’s the other thing,” Remus said quietly. Sirius leant heavily on the table, smiling faintly and evidently having already guessed what Remus was going to say.
“Ah, your furry little problem. I wondered when that was going to come up.”
“You can’t deny it’s relevant,” Remus said. Sirius tilted his head to one side in what may have been a vague nod of agreement. “You have to admit that on paper, I’m not exactly the ideal candidate - an unemployable Dark Creature with barely two knuts to his name.”
“And you bloody snore - don’t forget that. No wonder you can’t get a girl,” Sirius said.
Remus sniggered half-heartedly, and Sirius’ eyes met his with an altogether softer, more sincere glint in them. “Ok,” he said, “on paper, you’re not a great candidate. But it’s not as if you’re waiting to be picked out of a catalogue. She’s met you and she likes you, regardless. That’s the genius of the Tonks lust, isn’t it?” Sirius said. “Instead of you spending months wondering how to tell someone how you feel and then add the old ‘oh, by the way, once a month I’m a blood thirsty monster. Still fancy that shag?’, she already knows. She doesn’t give a damn about how you seem on paper - she likes you in person.”
Remus hummed in reply. He couldn’t help thinking that was a very good point.
He took a sip of his tea, and Sirius got up to grab another handful of biscuits, eating a digestive no more decorously than he had the first couple.
Remus watched, thinking about what Sirius had said.
He wished he had a feather to absentmindedly chew on. Instead, he settled for stealing one of Sirius’ biscuits and chewing it thoughtfully.
What Sirius had said was true enough - he’d never lied to Tonks about what he was or what it entailed, and she really didn’t seem to mind.
He wondered if that was why he was finding it so very hard to think of a reply to her note. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had so much at stake.
Tonks -
That sounds delightful.
Will there be sandwiches masquerading as bite-sized bread and cucumber morsels? Can I expect pineapple and cheese on a stick (to which I am indecently partial)? That would make my decision a forgone conclusion for the affirmative.
Remus.
He looked at the note with dismay. Twelve hours’ thought, and all he could up with was some lame party-food related humour. He decided to rectify the situation by re-writing his name, and adding a kiss, and delivered the note to the door in question before he could change his mind.
Then he spent all night lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering whether or not he should have done it, if a kiss was too much, too soon. At about half past five, it occurred to him that it was stupid to stay up all night, pondering one single, insignificant letter she probably wouldn’t even notice anyway, and he pulled his pillow over his head and groaned into it.
In the morning, Remus found a return note nestled on the carpet near his door. He picked it up, biting his lip and wondering why a piece of parchment could render his mouth dry, his palms distinctly not, and set his mind on some kind of spin-cycle. He almost didn’t want to look, and yet he couldn’t wait to see what she’d written.
Remus -
I can’t promise you pineapple and cheese on a stick, although, since you’ll be going with me, I can promise you sparkling conversation and the increased chance of having something spilled on you. I know you like an element of danger.
Tonks xx
Remus smiled, wondering how two letters, two seemingly insignificant ‘x’s could be the cause of such heart fluttering and radiating warmth in his stomach. He reached for his quill.
Tonks -
How could I refuse? Let me know when and where, and I shall be ready and armed with a range of Evanesco spells.
Remus xx
Remus,
You’re a doll. Party is on Saturday, and starts at midday - do you want to meet here and then Apparate or Floo together?
Looking forward to testing out the limits of exactly what you’ll do for a sausage roll.
T xxx
T. She’d signed it T. Remus grinned. Then he noted the three kisses, and his grin widened.
T -
I look forward to whatever tests you have in mind.
Midday here is fine.
See you then,
R xxx
Remus stood, staring at his wardrobe and wondering what to wear.
“What are you doing?”
Sirius’ voice startled him, and he jumped. “Nothing,” he said, closing the doors abruptly. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him in apparent disbelief, and then sank onto the edge of the bed. Remus turned and leant on the wardrobe, biting his lip as he thought, wondering which of his array of less than natty clothes to wear, and half-heartedly, why he was giving it so much thought.
“You’re up bright and early,” he said, and Sirius shrugged.
“Had to get up so I could be sick,” he said.
Remus offered him a vague grimace of sympathy, although he wondered if it shouldn’t be disapproval. “So what’s going on, then?” Sirius said, gesturing to the wardrobe. “Were you looking for woodworm?”
Remus debated his options - he could lie, claim he’d found a Doxy nest or something, but Sirius probably wouldn’t believe him, and besides anything else, Remus had been staring at his range of grey, brown, and greyish-brown jumpers for half an hour, and was still no closer to deciding which one was appropriate attire, and he thought a second opinion might be necessary. He took a deep breath.
“If a person was going out with another person,” he said, “what might they wear?”
“What?” Sirius said, his brow creasing with confusion. Remus sighed, knowing he’d probably never hear the end of this.
“If a person - ”
“Look, Moony,” Sirius said, “I’ve got a stinking hangover, someone’s hidden my Morning After Mintimisers - ” Remus fingered the packet guiltily in his pocket. “ - so I’m really not in the mood for cryptic. Do you mean you?”
“All right, yes,” he said. “If a person - ” Sirius glowered, cutting Remus off. He rolled his eyes, and re-phrased. “ - if I was going out with another person -”
“Another person like..?”
Remus cleared his throat and avoided Sirius’ eyes. “Another person like Tonks.”
His admission hung thickly in the room for a moment, and then he met Sirius’ eye cautiously, and Sirius’ cheeks twitched in a barely-there effort to conceal a grin. “I bloody knew it,” he said, giving in to his impulse to smirk. “I knew this note thing wouldn’t last. Good on - ”
“There’s nothing - ”
“Uh huh,” Sirius said, leaning back on his hands, a knowing smile creeping across his face.
“I’m just doing her a fav - ”
“Uh huh.”
“She’s got this thing at her parents’ - ”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s not - ”
“Uh huh.”
The knowing smile turned to outright smugness, and Remus folded his arms across his chest and glowered at Sirius. “Oh bugger off,” he said, and Sirius laughed.
“If you’re just doing her a friendly favour, and there’s nothing going on, why does it matter what you wear?”
Remus felt his jaw tighten. That was a fair point. “Oh all right,” he said, unfolding his arms in defeat and dropping his hands into his pockets. “So what should I wear?”
“How the bleeding hell should I know?” Sirius said. “I’ve been in prison, remember? Who do you think’s been giving me fashion tips, The Dementors? ‘Ah yes, Mr Black, those prison robes do bring out the colour of your eyes. Have you considered something black and floaty? Now relax and open wide while I get my tape measure.’”
Remus suppressed a laugh with some difficulty at the image of a Dementor trying to take Sirius’ inside leg measurement.
He sank down onto the bed, reached into his pocket and offered Sirius a Morning After Misery Mintimiser. Sirius eyed the packet suspiciously. “Where’d you get those?”
“Bathroom.”
The suspicion turned to a quizzical expression. “And you needed hangover mints because..?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Remus said.
“Up all night debating what to wear, finally coming to the conclusion that you’re so unfashionable you should drink yourself to death?”
“Something like that,” Remus said, leaning back on the bed. Sirius took a mint and sucked on it thoughtfully.
“You should have woken me up,” Sirius said. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
It was Remus’ turn to look quizzical. “If you weren’t asleep, how could I wake you up?” Sirius waved his objection aside.
“Would have been like old times.”
“Hmm.”
They were both lost in thought for a moment, and Remus watched a cloud that bore a striking resemblance to Mundungus Fletcher drift across the sky.
“Decided what to wear, then?” Sirius said.
“No.”
“Decided what to do?”
“Not entirely.”
“You’re all set, then?”
“Yes.”
Sirius offered him a thoughtful smirk, which Remus knew meant trouble. “You know what this reminds me of?” he said.
“No, what?”
“The first time you went out with a girl.”
“Ah,” Remus said.
“You were so nervous - ”
“And of course you and James made everything easier by ribbing me about it at every turn and making kissing noises behind my back.”
“That’s what mates are for,” Sirius said. “And it could have been worse - I mean we had that confetti charm over the front door rigged to go off when you were leaving with her, and we didn’t use it as a mark of respect.”
“Hmm,” Remus said. “As I recall, you didn’t use it because James got distracted by Lily and forgot to send the signal.”
He got up again, and turned back to the wardrobe, opening the doors and staring at the dismal sartorial selection in front of him. He took in his two pairs of trousers - one grey and one darker grey, his shirts in a selection of different whites, used-to-be-whites, and off-whites, and his collection of oh-so-very-similar V neck pullovers. He sighed.
“You know, if you can’t find anything suitable in there, you could always borrow something of mine,” Sirius said, and before Remus could stop him, Sirius had reached for his wand and Summoned a black T Shirt, which sported the legend ‘Nutter’ and a picture of a squirrel. Sirius held it out hopefully, and Remus laughed.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “It’s more you than me.”
Sirius shrugged and Banished the T shirt back across the hall. “Of course that’s not the only option,” Sirius said, with a vaguely wicked grin. There was a faint ‘whoosh’ and another article of clothing appeared - only this time it was a high-collared set of women’s dress robes, with ornate black lace around the collar and intricate green fluting on the sleeves. Remus raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not sure it’s that kind of a do,” he said.
“Shame,” Sirius said, “because I think this line would be really flattering on you. I’m sure we could transfigure you a nice pair of stilettos to go with it.”
“I hardly think Tonks’ parents will take kindly to me turning up at their house in drag.”
Sirius let out a long, amused sigh. “Are you sure you don’t want to try it on?” he said. Remus answered him by raising an eyebrow. “Fair enough. I think you’re missing a trick, though.”
“How so?”
“Well you being a tranny’d take their mind off the fact that you’re a werewolf, wouldn’t it?”
Remus laughed quietly. He supposed that was a very good point - and it would be an approach he hadn’t tried before. “Wear those,” Sirius said abruptly, and Remus turned to see him pointing at the darker pair of grey trousers. Remus pulled out the hanger, and gestured to them, raising an eyebrow at Sirius in question. “They make your arse look nice.”
Remus nearly dropped the hanger in surprise, and eyed Sirius aghast. “Have you been - when have you noticed my arse?”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Well it is in plain view a great deal of the time, Moony. I just notice these things. Nothing wrong with that.”
Remus swallowed. He supposed that was true, although he was a little disconcerted that Sirius might have formed an opinion. “What?” Sirius said defensively. “Now a man can’t look at another man’s posterior without him getting snippy about it?”
“I’m not - ”
“I was just paying you a compliment. And you want it to look nice, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose,” Remus said, a little flummoxed by the tone the conversation had adopted. His brow dipped thoughtfully. “And they really - ”
“Like a peach in a hanky.”
“Right.”
Remus lay the trousers over the back of the chair, and turned back to his selection of jumpers and shirts. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the turn the conversation had taken. “Any - erm - preference?” he said, gesturing vaguely back at the rail and then glancing at Sirius in question.
“That one,” Sirius said, pointing to a cream-coloured shirt that was a little frayed around the cuffs, but otherwise in pretty good nick. “Takes the edge off your pasty skin. Warms it up a bit.”
“Oh.”
“And I like the one you’re already wearing,” Sirius said, gesturing to his slate grey V neck.
“Right.”
Remus sank back onto the bed, feeling confused. It must have shown on his face, because Sirius shifted back a bit, and regarded him inquiringly. “What?” he said eventually, when Remus didn’t say anything.
“Nothing - just - why are you being so helpful?”
Sirius looked momentarily as if Remus had just accused him of something desperately unsavoury, and then he sat up straight and nudged Remus’ arm with his elbow. “I just want things to go okay. And I know you worry about this stuff, so….”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“I know how much you like her,” Sirius said. Remus was just about to chip in with a comment about how grateful he was for his friend’s concern and support, when he continued. “Apart from anything else I’m desperate for you to get your leg over and tell me all the juicy details. Vicarious is the best I can hope for these days. I mean seriously, have you any idea how long it’s been? My balls are like - ”
Remus closed his eyes and held up his hand for quiet. Sirius laughed. “Seriously, though,” he said, “I hope things go all right. Hard to see how they wouldn’t, though, really, if you’re wearing those trousers.”
Remus laughed. He hoped Sirius was right.
Remus stood in the kitchen, staring at Tonks. Well, not staring so much as exchanging a series of nervous half-glances with her to prove that he wasn’t afraid to look at her, even though he was.
They hadn’t actually seen each other for two weeks, not since before the note-writing started, and now, face to face with her, he found himself stuck for words. And facial expressions.
He’d gone down to the kitchen early, thinking that he’d have a few minutes to collect himself, to think of some warm, witty, greeting to set things off on the right note, and so when he’d come upon her waiting for him at the table it had shaken him a little. His eyebrows had leapt up in surprise and stayed there, despite his best efforts, and Tonks’ face had lit up in an expression of hopeful expectation that, now minutes had passed without him coming up with anything to say, seemed a little forced.
He swallowed, desperately trying to think of something witty and warm to say.
Or anything at all. He thought at this point he’d settle for neutral - or even cold and distant - anything to quash the oppressively silent atmosphere in the grim kitchen.
Remus couldn’t help thinking that, despite his lack of suitability as a catalogue boyfriend, he was a lot better at this kind of thing on paper.
“Wotcher,” Tonks said. He wondered if he’d imagined the slight tentative inflection to her ‘Wotcher’, or if he was just hearing what he wanted to hear, if it was wishful thinking that she was as nervous about this as he was.
“Hello,” he said, unable to hide the slight, tentative inflection of his own voice.
Tonks smiled, although he couldn’t tell if it was at the tentative inflection, or something else entirely. Whatever the cause, his heart sang. She was so beautiful when she smiled.
“How’ve you been?” she said. “Seems like it’s been ages….”
She trailed off and shrugged uncertainly, biting her lip, and as her eyes trailed over him and smiled appreciatively, it did strange things to his insides. He made a mental note to thank Sirius for his sartorial advice. “Good,” he said quickly, hoping to save her the embarrassment of an uneasy silence. “You? How’s work?”
“Good,” she echoed. “And - busy. Hence the - er - no seeing thing.”
“Right.”
He offered her a cautious smile, which she returned, and for a moment, they sank into the uneasy silence he’d been so keen to avoid and just looked at each other, brows weighed down by the weight of all the unsaid things in the air, lips pressed together in an effort to battle nerves.
Remus’ mind was a frenzy of nothing in particular as he groped about its dusty corners for something to say that wasn’t asinine or didn’t completely give away how much he liked her, how much he’d looked forward to spending the day with her.
He cleared his throat, and Tonks looked up at him expectantly.
Oh now you’ve done it, he thought. Now you’ve got to say something.
He opened his mouth and let out the first thing that occurred. “I suppose we’d better get going,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to make you late.”
Tonks smiled faintly, her eyes losing some of their brightness in disappointment, and he mentally kicked himself. Of course what he should have said was that he liked her T shirt, and that the shade of blue she’d picked for her hair was very fetching. “I thought we could Apparate,” she said, dropping her hands into her pockets and looking up at him through her dark blue fringe. “Bit more dignified than arriving covered in soot.”
Remus nodded his agreement, and lead the way up the steps and out of the kitchen. They shuffled along the hall in silence. After a brief ‘after you,’ ‘no, after you,’ ‘no, I insist,’ fiasco at the front door where they both stepped forward at the same moment and bumped into each other, they found themselves blinking in the daylight outside Grimmauld Place, with the building and the usual parameters of their relationship shrinking away behind them.
Remus offered Tonks a rather feeble-feeling smile of encouragement, and they set off towards the cluster of trees in the middle of the square and the Apparation point. He was determined to say something - anything - but his usual eloquence and conversational ease seemed to have deserted him. At this rate, even if she had been interested, he was being so weird and dull she was probably glad he hadn’t made a move.
He racked his brain. “So is it a special occasion?” he asked, realising that he’d had at least half of the conversation that needed to precede his question in his own head. “I mean, for your parents.”
“Twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,” Tonks said, her eyes a little brighter now he’d actually said something.
“Oh,” Remus said. “I didn’t realise they’d been married that long.”
“Neither did dad,” Tonks said. “Mum went mental when she realised he’d forgotten.”
“He forgot?” Remus said, aghast, some of his unease abating.
“Hmm,” Tonks replied, meeting his eye askance, hers twinkling ever so slightly. “He came home from work and asked what all the owls were for, apparently, and when mum started turning his work robes into mashed potato, he got the idea that maybe he’d missed something.”
“Ah,” Remus said, grinning at the thought. “And so the party’s to smooth things over?”
“I don’t know,” Tonks said, rolling her eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh. “I think he’s claiming it was a surprise he had planned all along, and the whole forgetting the actual date thing was just a ruse.”
“Did your mum believe him?”
“He’s still breathing, isn’t he?” Tonks said, and he chuckled softly. “It’ll probably be hell on legs,” she added, frowning at him apologetically. He offered her a tentative smile.
“Then I’m glad I decided to accept your invite,” he said, and Tonks smiled back and nudged his arm with her elbow.
“Me too,” she said softly, and he wondered if he imagined the faint blush on her cheek.
They Apparated to a spot behind a clump of trees that was well hidden from the road, and stepped out onto a quiet street, packed with exactly identical houses. “Welcome to suburbia,” Tonks said, waving at their surroundings lazily.
Remus took in the perfectly manicured lawns that looked as if they’d been trimmed to millimetre perfection, the curtains that hung at perfect angles that framed every window, and the impeccable nets, behind which he imagined a gaggle of identical house-wives were lurking. If anything, the place reminded him uncomfortably of Privet Drive, and all of a sudden he knew why Tonks had been so quick to suggest the Best Kept Lawn competition, and why it had seemed such a perfect fit for the Dursleys.
Remus felt his brow dip into a frown. He’d never given much thought to where Tonks grew up, but now they were here, he couldn’t help thinking that there was something completely incongruous about Tonks coming from somewhere so, well, ordinary. The very last thing in the world she was was ordinary.
They walked to a house with a tastefully varnished oak door, and Tonks met his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him slightly. “Ready?” she said.
“As I’ll ever be,” he said. “If there aren’t any sausage rolls I’m going to be mightily disappointed.”
Tonks affected an offended bristle at his words, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Chopped pork aperitifs in chough pastry, if you please,” she said, her tone playfully posh and clipped. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
He sniggered quietly to himself, and Tonks knocked on the door. It was opened almost immediately by a tall, stately-looking witch with a pale, oval face and long brown hair that hung, impeccably, on her shoulders, every inch as trimmed to perfection as the lawns outside.
Unmistakably, it was Andromeda. He remembered her vaguely from school, although he’d been far too lowly a first year for her to bother to speak to. “Nymphadora! You’re on time! And you brought a - ” Andromeda’s grey eyes turned to Remus, and swept appraisingly over him.
Remus thought he actually felt himself shrink a couple of inches under the weight of her stare as she took in his shabby shirt, tatty grey jumper, and trousers that had seen distinctly better days. Her nostrils flared in what he supposed might well be disapproval, and then she fixed him with a blatantly false smile that radiated all the genuine warmth of a beauty queen. “ - guest.”
Remus smiled as best he could when he evidently didn’t even warrant use of the word ‘friend’. “Don’t call me Nymphadora, mum,” Tonks said, rolling her eyes and then shooting Remus a quick, furtively apologetic, glance. Andromeda stepped aside, and Tonks shooed Remus into the hall, squashing him against the wall as she closed the door behind them. “Mum, this is Remus, Remus, this is my mum, Andromeda,” she said.
Remus extended his hand, and Andromeda gripped it limply and offered it a cursory shake. “Lovely to meet you,” she said, although her tone was as cold as snow.
“You too,” Remus said. “It’s a pleasure.”
Andromeda turned to her daughter, her eyebrows dipping in puzzlement as they raked over Tonks’ hair. “Nympha - ”
“Mum, please. It’s Tonks.”
“I’m not about to call my own daughter by her surname,” Andromeda said testily. “Besides, Nymphadora is a perfectly lovely name. Wouldn’t you agree, Remus?”
Both sets of eyes turned to him. He shied away towards a gilt-framed Constable print on the wall.
Hell.
Remus swallowed, realising that he was trapped between two formidable women, both of whom expected him to agree with them, and both of whom he suspected knew some pretty inventive hexes for men who failed to do so. He glanced quickly between Tonks, who was raising her eyebrows expectantly at him with the threat of a glower hovering just beneath the surface, and Andromeda, whose nostrils flared in warning. “Erm - ”
He was saved from his conversational minefield by the appearance of a dark-haired, middle aged wizard, who was wearing a navy and white striped polo shirt that was stretched tightly across his slightly podgy stomach. “Who’s this then?” he said, glancing between Tonks and Remus with a curiousness that seemed oddly familiar.
“Hello, dad,” Tonks said, stepping forward and giving her father a peck on the cheek. “This is Remus.”
“Ted,” the man said, reaching for Remus’ extended hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” Remus said as Ted pumped his hand enthusiastically.
“Drink?” Ted said, his dark eyes sparkling.
Remus smiled at Ted in reply. He thought a drink was probably exactly what he neeeded.
A drink certainly took the edge of Remus’ nerves, and he’d started to enjoy the tingle of anticipation in his stomach.
The party was in full swing, or about as full a swing as Remus thought it was ever likely to get. A small collection of witches and wizards in tastefully understated dress robes were gathered in the lounge, perching neatly on the edge of the green and cream-striped sofa and armchairs, while he and Tonks hovered at the heavily party-food laden dining table in the adjoining room. It was a strange kind of a place - from the outside it was entirely suburban, but inside wizarding portraits mingled with Muggle prints, magical artefacts with Muggle sporting memorabilia. The nod to the air of supposed celebration was a banner above the fireplace sporting the legend ‘Happy Wedding Anniversary’, and a couple of balloons charmed to sing ‘You Are The Sunshine of My Life’, which hovered above the buffet and launched into song whenever someone approached for a vol au vont.
A low murmur of conversation that sounded oddly tinged with disapproval permeated the room, and Andromeda fluttered about making sure everyone had drinks, and making polite inquiries about relatives’ health, work, and the weather in their neck of the woods. Ted, on the other hand, was happily ensconced in a scruffy-looking mustard yellow armchair in the corner, telling jokes about three nuns and a hippogriff to two of what Remus thought probably constituted his dodgy mates.
Caught between the two extremes - Andromeda’s formality and Ted’s…less stuffy approach - Tonks and Remus had stuck together, making polite conversation about how dreadful the weather in Cornwall had been this summer with a grey-haired and very upright wizard named Nicholas, chatting about how great the cake looked with a plump witch named Greta, and perusing the buffet table at leisure.
And peruse they did - they started at opposite ends of the spread and met in the middle to compare notes - Tonks said the crab sticks were a contribution from one of Ted’s dodgy mates and possibly best avoided, while he heartily recommenced the cucumber sandwiches and offered her a bite-sized piece of toast, impeccably spread with a neat triangle of pate and topped with a tomato.
All in all, Remus thought things were going well.
Until, that was, he made Tonks laugh with a lame joke about Kingsley and his earring, and she dropped Branston Pickle on her top, causing Andromeda to tut words like ‘unlady-like’ and ‘menace to condiments’. Tonks looked so utterly dejected and embarrassed that he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t think of anything particularly heroic, but he managed to distract Andromeda with a compliment about her chopped pork in chough pastry aperitifs, and when Andromeda stopped tutting and blinked in incomprehension, telling him that they were, in fact, just sausage rolls, Tonks laughed so hard she had to cling to the edge of the table to stay upright and nearly upset the whole lot. Nonetheless, his compliment earned Remus a smile from Andromeda that had a scintilla of genuine feeling behind it, which seemed like progress, and an all out grin from Tonks, which allowed him to enjoy the cucumber sandwiches even more than he would have ordinarily.
There was a slightly dodgy moment when Ted came over and asked how long they’d been courting, and in his haste not to give Ted the wrong impression, Remus came across as sounding horrified at the very suggestion, but apart from that, things hadn’t gone too badly. And he’d cleared the whole thing up with Tonks via a series of intricate eyebrow raises that he hoped conveyed that he just meant that they weren’t, that he wouldn’t have any objections to the idea. He thought she’d got the message. She hadn’t turned his robes to mashed potato, anyway.
He tried not to read things into how close Tonks was standing to him, how she laughed at his jokes and beamed as he laughed at hers, but he couldn’t help it. He thought she was wonderful. She’d even thrown in a spectacular diversion when Andromeda had cornered him and asked what he did for a living - suggesting, quite loudly, that Mrs Barnstaple next door’s roses were looking championship quality and were bound to take all the rosettes at the next fete, which had caused a flurry of activity - neck craning and pointing out aphid patches - and a frenzy of debate, for most of the rest of the afternoon. He couldn’t stop grinning at the thought of how quickly she’d leapt in to save him a tricky, potentially embarrassing, situation.
Stevie Wonder bursting into song behind him jolted Remus out of his thoughts, and he looked down to find Tonks reaching for the plate of sausage rolls. She wiggled them in front of him for a moment. “So when you said you’d do anything for a sausage roll,” she said, “where exactly would you draw the line?”
Remus glanced between her and the plate of sausage rolls, and as he met her eye she smiled and raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ve never had much cause to test the boundaries.”
“Hmm.”
Tonks pursed her lips in thought, and then leant in close. “Would you run naked round the garden?” she said, her eyes glittering with mischief as she watched his reaction. Remus shot a furtive glance at Tonks’ parents, convinced that neither of them would be particularly enamoured of the conversation they were having within hearing range of the Axminster, but finding them both busy with their respective friends, he leant in.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Although I’d have to be careful, what with all those rose bushes. I could do myself a terrible mischief on the thorns.”
Tonks tittered quietly, gripping the plate firmly in an attempt not to drop them. “Would you snog Doris?”
“Which one’s Doris?”
“The one with the lazy eye who smells of bruise-healing salve and damp dog.”
“Ah,” Remus said, taking in the witch in question. He met Tonks’ eye again and raised an eyebrow. “For the whole plate?” She nodded. “And when you say snog - ”
“With tongues.”
Remus sniggered, even though he thought sniggering in a man of his age over the words ‘snog’ and ‘tongues’ was a bit unseemly. “Yes,” he said, and Tonks gaped at him.
“Really?”
“Hmm. Support stockings aside, she’s quite a looker.”
Tonks closed her mouth and the corners twitched in the briefest hint of a smile that he thought indicated she was slightly impressed. “Would you - ” She paused, pressing her lips together in thought, glancing up at the Artexed ceiling for inspiration. “ - I know. Would you eat a slice of pate on toast that’d been dropped pate-side down on the carpet?”
“Oh now really Tonks,” he said, affecting his best stern Professor voice. He waited for her eyebrows to dip as if she couldn’t quite tell whether or not he was being serious - and then continued. “ - of course I would.”
She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly, and he leant in closer - so close that her light, grassy perfume surrounded him, and very nearly made him forget what he was going to say. “I’m a werewolf whose best friend turns into a dog. I can assure you that I’ve had much worse things in my mouth than carpet fluff.”
Tonks laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to keep quiet. “Well,” she said, casting her eyes over him appraisingly. “I’m impressed by the depths to which you’d sink for a sausage roll.”
“So which’ll it be?” he said. Tonks offered him the plate.
“I’m letting you off the hook for now,” she said. “I’m just keeping it in mind in case I ever need you to do anything.”
Remus smiled and reached for a sausage roll, wondering if he should tell her that if she ever wanted him to do anything, she was unlikely to need a bribe.
As the sun set, the cake - a rather impressive white slab with glittering silver icing and impeccable sugar flowers - was cut, Ted made a speech about the secret of a good marriage being admitting when you’re wrong and shutting up when you’re right, and everyone laughed and toasted with whatever was at hand.
Soon after, they were bidding a rather fonder farewell than they had a greeting to a slightly tipsy Andromeda and a Ted that was distinctly two sheets to the wind. Remus thought Ted probably would have hugged him if he’d have been able to get out of his arm chair.
They stood on the quiet suburban pavement, with the early evening stars twinkling above them, and Remus revelled in the quiet after the chatter, in being alone with Tonks after being surrounded. “Well,” Tonks said, meeting his eye with something that looked a bit like encouragement, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “thanks for coming.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “All I had planned this afternoon was attacking the shelves in the library with a dusting charm.”
“Oh,” Tonks said, her face falling just a little. Remus winced.
“Not that - ” He sighed, wondering why he was so useless at this, and then met her eye. “I didn’t come just because I had nothing better to do,” he said quietly, touching her elbow lightly in reassurance.
“Oh.”
Tonks’ second ‘oh’ had been rather more hopeful than the first, and he bit back a smile at the thought. They were both quiet for a moment, and somewhere in the distance a dog let out a well-timed and rather elegant bark, as if it were on a timer, and some birds took flight above them, twittering as they went.
“Why did you come, then?” Tonks said softly, and the rest of the world - Ted and Andromeda’s house behind them, the quiet street, the manicured lawns - dissolved into a suburban blur.
The only thing that existed for him were her questioning eyes on his. He swallowed. He really didn’t want to blow it now, not when - what with the sausage rolls and the laughing over spilt pickle - things had been going so well. “We hadn’t seen each other in ages,” he said, gazing at her as sincerely as he dared. “I thought - well, I thought it’d be nice to spend the day with you.”
Tonks pressed her lips together, her eyes roving his face as she thought. “You know,” she said slowly, “you can spend the day with me any time you want. You just have to ask.”
Remus felt his lips twitch in nervous amusement. “Oh,” he said. He knew she’d just given him license to ask her out, and the twinkle of expectation in her eyes made his heart dance, and yet he couldn’t quite find the words. He grimaced at his own ineptitude. “I’m really much better at this kind of thing on paper.”
“Well that’s easily fixed,” Tonks said brightly, and she took out her wand and conjured a small sheet of parchment and a ready-inked flamboyant peacock-feather quill. She raised an eyebrow at him, her eyes dancing cheekily, and then bent slightly, unfurling the parchment against her thigh and scribbling on it furiously. She folded the note neatly in half, and then handed it to him.
He took it from her with a smile, and slowly opened it. It read:
Remus,
I’m so sorry I dragged you to this.
He reached to take the quill, Vanishing her words with his wand so he could replace them with his own:
I did say I’d do anything for a sausage roll.
He folded the parchment neatly and handed it to her, chancing a glance at her as she read, and watching, fascinated, as she let out a soft, breathy snigger. She composed a quick reply, handing it to him and coyly biting her lip.
Surely this was above and beyond, even for cheese and pineapple on a stick.
He laughed, taking the quill from her fingers, brushing hers gently with his as he did so and feeling a shiver-like thrill pass right through him.
Not at all. I had a lovely time.
She smiled at the words he’d written and then took back the quill, her fingertips lingering just slightly too long on his hand.
I don’t believe that for a second, but you’re sweet for saying it.
Remus toyed with plenty of ideas for what he might write next - he could tell her that earlier, he’d meant to say that he thought she looked lovely, that spending the day with her, sausage rolls or not, would always be a pleasure and never a chore, but the more he thought about it, the more only one thing seemed to fit the bill.
He scribbled the note, handed it to her, and waited for her to read what he’d written. His heart pounded against the inside of his chest so forcefully he wondered if the neighbours could hear it.
Tonks -
Look up.
She did, and in the same instant, he caught her face in his hand and drew her closer, not hesitating or over-thinking before touching his lips to hers. The parchment crinkled against his chest as she pressed against it and responded, and Remus felt as if he was dissolving. Her kiss was sweet and yet insistent, and he felt his own longing echoed in the movement of her lips over his, and as her hand clutched his shoulder he thought he’d collapse. His fingers worked their way into her blue hair all of their own accord as he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, and he smiled a little against her mouth at how she tasted faintly of the Butterbeer they’d drunk earlier. He idly wondered if this was the most shocking thing this street had seen in a very long time. If it was, he didn’t care.
Eventually, he pulled away, and Tonks smiled at him, eyes twinkling and making his insides shake and his heart soar. “Wotcher,” she said softly.
“Hi,” he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She grinned, and let out a soft breath of laughter.
They gazed at each other for a moment - but it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward or any of the things he’d feared it might be - they were simply savouring it, he thought. “What now?” Tonks said quietly.
Remus nodded off towards the horizon, where the sun had disappeared, leaving the sky a crisp, yellowy-blue. “We appear to have missed the sunset we could have walked off into,” he said.
“Well that’s your fault,” she said. “If you hadn’t eaten all those sausage - ”
He cut her off with another kiss, holding her tightly against him and savouring every single second, and when they finally broke apart, Remus swore he saw the nets behind them in Ted and Andromeda’s lounge window twitch back into place. He wondered if, inside, nostrils were flaring with disapproval, or if they’d simply replaced Mrs Barnstaple’s roses as the hot topic of conversation.
They agreed to go back to Grimmauld together for a drink, and as they walked away into the twilight, Remus couldn’t help thinking how ridiculous he’d been to be so nervous. His worries - the serious ones about how unsuitable he was and the not so serious about what to wear - now seemed miles away, and somehow he’d always known that she’d be the one to make him forget.
It was certainly still true that on paper he didn’t have a lot going for him, but he was slowly coming to realise that all he needed going for him was a witch with multi-coloured hair who liked him in person - and she was holding his hand.