On Paper

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 come 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.