The Blind Date

The Blind Date

Four:

*Tonks*

Damn you, Remus.

As I walk along the crowded street with my date, I'm a seething mess of anger inside.

It turns out that Dumbledore's "nephew" is a really nice guy. And a real looker.

And I can't enjoy any of it.

Because of Remus sodding John Lupin.

"Is everything all right?" says Angus, turning to me. I force a smile onto my face.

"Of course. What were you saying?"

Angus continues speaking, and I fall back into a moody silence as a light rain begins to fall.

This is what I get. This is what I get for falling for someone who's twice my age. And a prat. A big prat.

I'm not going to think about him for the rest of the night.

I tune back into Angus's dialogue just as we get to the restaurant. Once we're seated, Angus turns to me.

"Thanks again for showing me around," he says, smiling. "I don't really know the area that well, I'm actually originally from Yorkshire, and I've never been to the city."

"It's no problem," I smile back.

"Uncle Albus actually told me about this place," says Angus, looking around. "Apparently they serve the best pizza in London."

"Remus likes pizza," I mumble.

"I'm sorry - who?" Angus asks, looking perplexed.

"Oh, sorry," I mutter, blushing. "Just one of my friends."

"Oh," Angus nods. "Anyway - "

"Well, he's not really a friend," I amend. "Because, to be a friend you actually have to be, you know, a friend to a person. And not be mean to them and insult them and kiss them and then pretend it never happened."

"Are we still talking about Remus?" Angus looks confused.

Poor boy.

"Was I speaking out loud?" I ask. He nods. "Sorry, I tend to do that sometimes. Just forget about it."

"Umm...all right." Angus raises his menu, and starts to look through it. I pick up my own and start to peruse it, but a sudden thought strikes me.

"I'm sorry," I say. Angus's eyes warily appear over the menu. "But can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure," says Angus, obviously relieved he's not being asked any more crazy questions. He lowers his menu.

"Could you smell my hair?"

"What?" Angus looks startled.

"Well - " I falter, " - it's just that...well...I need to find something out. Do you think you could smell my hair? Just once, I promise."

Angus looks like a good bloke. The poor guy doesn't deserve this kind of madness.

But, being the good guy that he is, he obediently leans over and takes a whiff of my hair.

"Well?" I ask.

"What?"

"What does it smell like?"

"What does it smell like?" Angus repeats. I nod. "Uhh...hair?" he asks.

"It doesn't smell like strawberries or bananas?" I ask. Angus shakes his head.

"Is it supposed to?"

"Only if you have a werewolf's sense of smell, by the looks of things," I sigh.

Angus looks alarmed. "What?" he demands.

Wha- oh, yeah. Angus is a Muggle. Hmm...how to fix this...

"Kidding!" I say brightly, picking up my menu. Angus gives a weak laugh and hurriedly picks up his own menu.

I think just to hide from me.

I'm just getting involved in the menu when the waiter comes to take our order. Angus only reluctantly relinquishes his hold on the menu and orders a drink. I order water.

I'm not really up for repeating last night's experiences.

"So," Angus says bravely, deciding to make conversation with the crazy lady sitting opposite him, "what do you do in your spare time?"

"Well," I say, frowning. "Lately I've been spending a lot of time with my second cousin and his friend." My frown deepens.

"Remus?" Angus guesses. I'm surprised.

"How did you know that?" I demand.

"Well, you're shredding your napkin," Angus says apologetically, nodding his head at my hands. I look down.

Damn, he's right.

Great. Because of Remus Lupin, I'm now a quivering, nervous mess.

"Yeah, Remus," I say, throwing my shredded napkin onto the table.

"I know it's none of my business," Angus says, "but I get the feeling you and this Remus guy are more than just friends."

"What makes you say that?" I ask quickly, blushing.

"Well," says Angus, looking more and more confused by the minute. "You keep making subtle references to him, I swear the colour of your hair changes when you do, and there's a strange man at the window, staring at us."

I whip around, ready to curse whoever it is, but stop short.

Remus is standing at the window, his nose pressed up against the glass, his shirt plastered to his body, his hair wet and sticking on end. When he sees me looking, he starts. Then he smiles and waves.

Remus Lupin, I'm going to kill you!