Under the Table

"What do you think of Tonks?" Sirius said.

"Don't start," Remus replied, not even bothering to look up from his book.

"Start what?" Sirius returned. "It was a simple enough question."

"As far as you're concerned, no question involving a person of the opposite sex is simple," he said. "I remember all too well the Celestia Fox incident. That all started with a simple 'what do you think of Celestia?' and escalated into a full on project for you and James to get the two of us together."

"It was for your own good," Sirius said. "And you did fancy her, didn't you?"

Remus sighed, defeated, realising that he'd picked a bad example. "I think Tonks is a valuable asset to the Order," he said.

"And you fancy her."

"No, I don't."

"You think I don't know you well enough to know when you fancy someone?"

Remus turned a page, even though he hadn't finished reading it. The last thing he needed was for one of Sirius' questions to put ideas in his head, especially when the ideas were already there; perhaps not fully-formed and definitely not well thought out, but there, nonetheless, in all their ill-conceived vagueness. "I think Azkaban addled your brain," he said.

"Then why do you keep flirting with her?"

"I don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"Do."

"Don't."

"Do."

Remus sighed, refusing to let things deteriorate further into childishness. He met Sirius' eye. "When?" he said, lifting his eyebrow in challenge.

"All the time," Sirius said, waving vaguely at the table as if it were bedecked with examples. "You're always trying to annoy her."

"I don't try to annoy her," Remus said, turning back to his book. "I just do."

"And for you, that's flirting."

Remus turned another, unread, page with great care. "I'm not flirting with Tonks," he said, measuredly.

For a blissful moment he thought Sirius had believed him. "I've seen the way you look at her," Sirius said, obviously endlessly amused.

"Perhaps you need an eye-test?" Remus suggested. "She's half my age. Just because you have the morals of a randy stoat, it doesn't mean I do too."

"Firstly," Sirius said, indignantly, "I do not have the morals of a randy stoat. You only think I do because you've got the morals of a neutered stoat. Secondly, she's at least three quarters your age."

He should have known Sirius wouldn't leave it. Remus closed his book and smiled at him genially. "Which matters not a jot," he said, "because I don't fancy her."

"That's a shame," Sirius said. "Because she fancies you."

"You're not going to catch me out like that," Remus said. "Not again."

"So there is something to catch you out on?"

"No."

Sirius looked well and truly disappointed. "You used to be a lot more fun," he said.

"You mean I used to be easier to manipulate," Remus said. Sirius grinned.

"Well that too," he said.

The door opened, and Tonks came into the kitchen. Remus thought that Sirius had probably planned the whole thing - her arriving just in time to overhear his accusations and whatever torrid confessions he thought he might have been able to elicit. "Wotcher," she said. She looked from face to face for an explanation for the evidently uneasy quiet, and Remus felt the weight of Sirius' gaze as he watched him.

Escaping seemed the best option. "I think I might take this upstairs," he said, gesturing to his book. He stood up and walked to the door, casting a "don't start" over his shoulder, and giving Sirius a pointed look as he closed the door behind him.

He was barely a pace into the corridor and a quarter of the way through a sigh of relief when Tonks said: "Don't start what?"

Remus sent silent pleas to Sirius not to answer, but, of course, they went unheard. "He fancies you," Sirius said.

Remus opened the door just far enough to get his head through the crack. "No, I don't," he said, and retreated. The door had barely swung closed again when Sirius' voice, laden with palpable smugness, reached him:

"Told you. He fancies you."

Remus sighed and pushed the door open. "No I don't," he said more fervently. "No offence," he added, as an afterthought.

"Why would I be offended?" Tonks said, folding her arms across her chest and glowering at him in a way that made him think that she was probably very offended. "It's not as if I lie awake at night desperately hoping you fancy me."

"Indeed," he said, more to himself than anyone else, and retreated back into the corridor.

"He does," Sirius said.

Remus opened the door and threw his book at Sirius, hitting him squarely on the back of the head. As Sirius' hand came up to meet the point of impact, Remus looked at Tonks and gave her a tight-lipped smile of apology.

"Does that seem like the action of a man not in love to you?" Sirius said, feverishly rubbing the back of his head. Remus massaged his temple, and then strode back into the kitchen. He crouched down to retrieve his book, and then he chose the chair next to Tonks just to prove he didn't fancy her, and, with a sigh, sat down.

"Alright," he said, and Sirius' eyes lit up. "But remember that you did ask for this."

'Ask for what?' Sirius mouthed, but no words came out. He tried again, and then shot Remus an icy stare across the table. He mouthed something that looked very much like 'Oh Moony come on'.

Remus placed his hands on the table, his wand resting lightly between his fingertips. "If you're not going to say anything sensible," he said, "I think it's best you don't say anything at all."

Sirius looked at him imploringly, and when he met only Remus' steely gaze in return, he folded his arms huffily and glowered.

"How long are you going to leave him like that?" Tonks asked.

"He knows the drill," Remus said. "I'll lift it when he promises to behave. Are you going to be good?"

Sirius made a hand gesture across the table that made Tonks snigger. "A little while longer, then," Remus said, stashing his wand back in his pocket. He turned in the chair to face her, thinking that if they were going to be stuck here for a while, they might as well make the best of it. "Could I get you a drink?" he asked. "There's tea or I think some Butterbeer in the cupboard."

"Don't go to any trouble," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "It's not as if you're trying to impress me or anything."

Conscience pricked, he looked away. He'd assumed that her being genuinely offended or troubled by what he had said about not fancying her was entirely out of the question. Apparently not. "It's no trouble," he said.

"Butterbeer, then."

She met his eye and smiled, and he thought he was probably forgiven. "Sirius?" he said, rising and going over to the pantry. Sirius made another hand gesture. "Very well," he said.

He rummaged through the shelves wondering when everything had got in such a state. He eventually found two bottles, and he opened them, holding one out to Tonks as he dropped back into his seat.

"I take it you've done this to him before," Tonks said as she took the bottle from him.

"At school it was the only way the rest of us could get any peace and quiet," Remus said. "You know what he's like. Nothing but chitter-chatter and idle gossip. And of course all that advice on girls he needed.... " He rolled his eyes for dramatic effect. "It was a constant struggle to find a moment to oneself."

Sirius slapped the table to get their attention and mouthed 'That's not true!', his eyes wide with annoyance. Tonks laughed. "You know, he used to get his girlfriends to do his homework for him," Remus said, pressing his advantage. Sirius stood up and leaned on the table. 'Stop it,' he mouthed, pointing a finger at Remus. "I'm not sure how he persuaded them," he said slowly, enjoying the growing fear in Sirius' eyes and the growing intrigue in Tonks'. "Oh yes," he said, "that's it. He used to - "

Sirius slapped the table again and glared at him. Remus battled his amusement. Rattling Sirius had always been an inordinate amount of fun. 'You wouldn't dare,' he mouthed.

"Wouldn't I?" Remus said. Sirius pursed his lips together in a thoughtful pout, and then sat down, folding his arms and scowling half-heartedly, having apparently, and quite rightly, guessed that indeed, he would dare.

'Alright,' he mouthed.

"Are you sorry?" Remus said, and Sirius nodded reluctantly. "And you promise to be good?" Remus said. Sirius rolled his eyes, and then nodded. Remus took out his wand and pointed it at Sirius' neck.

Sirius' hands rose to his throat and he made an experimental gurgling noise. "That was uncalled for," he said. "I'll get you back, you know."

"I look forward to it," Remus said. "Do you want that Butterbeer now?"

Sirius nodded like a scolded child, and Tonks sniggered at him. Remus retrieved a bottle from the pantry, and handed it to him. "I want to know how he persuaded girls to do his homework for him," Tonks said, leaning forward and waggling her eyebrows at him.

Sirius shot Remus a filthy glance of warning across the table. "Perhaps another time," Remus said, pressing his lips together to try and stop the grin that was forming at the corners of his mouth spreading.

"Over my dead body!" Sirius said. "Don't forget I know all your dirty little secrets too, Moony."

"Sirius," Remus said evenly, "we both know full well that there is nothing in my past that even comes remotely close to being a tenth as embarrassing."

Sirius turned to Tonks and looked her squarely in the eye as he leant on the table. "You know, James and I took all the flak at school for being troublemakers. What no-one realises is that he's -" he pointed at Remus, " - the really devious one."

"Is that right?" she said.

"Yes," he said. He shot Remus a rather sly smile, and then let out the most unconvincing fake yawn Remus had ever seen. "Oh dear," he said, "I appear to be knackered. Think I might have to say goodnight and leave you two alone. I do hope that won't be really uncomfortable and awkward."

He added another fake yawn for good measure, got to his feet, snatched his Butterbeer up from the table, and left.

"What was all that about?" Tonks said.

"Nothing. Azkaban's addled his brain."

"Oh," she said, not looking entirely convinced. She sipped her Butterbeer. "I suppose it's up to you to entertain me, then."

He met Tonks' eye and smiled. "I'd have thought you had quite enough of me and my idea of entertainment the other night."

"If you bore me too much," she said, "I can always go and play with Buckbeak."

He let out a brief breath of laughter, wondering if he really had it in him to be more entertaining than a stroppy hippogriff. He pulled the tatty paperback he had thrown at Sirius back towards him, staring at the synopsis on the back cover and toying with the battered spine. "What were you reading?" Tonks asked, nodding towards the book.

"Jane Eyre," he said.

"What's it about?"

"Robots."

"Really?"

"No."

As her expression turned from one of amused and rather hopeful interest to one of slack-jawed irritation, he wondered if he'd ever get tired of that game. He didn't really know why it amused him so much to give her daft answers to perfectly innocent questions. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that she always believed him, no matter how ridiculous his answer, and he hoped she always would.

"What's it about really?" she said.

And, of course, irritated as she might get, she always forgave him his teasing, which he couldn't help finding endlessly endearing. "A lot of things," he said. "Mostly, it's a love story and a mystery."

Tonks leaned forward inquisitively, evidently not satisfied with his answer, and so he continued. "It's about a woman who grows up in an orphanage and then becomes a governess," he said. "She goes to work for a man called Mr Rochester, and she falls in love with him."

"That sounds a bit girly," she said. He chuckled, liking the way she always said exactly what she thought and could usually be relied upon to get to the heart of the matter.

"Yes," he said, sipping his Butterbeer. "I suppose the way I described it, it does."

"But it's not?"

"Not really," he said. "Even though he's in love with her, Mr Rochester is a bit of a git to poor Jane - " He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. All of a sudden, it all somehow seemed a little too close to home, and he rued not picking up Frankenstein instead. " - and he has a secret, which she eventually uncovers, and it breaks her heart."

"Is it any good?"

"Mmm."

"Would I like it?"

"That depends entirely, I suspect, on what kind of books you like. What do you normally read?"

She picked at the skin around her nails and smiled at him awkwardly. "I'm not really much of a reader," she said, almost apologetically. "Not these days - too busy most of the time, too busy trying to catch up on some sleep the rest of it."

"Yes," he said, smiling, "I had noticed your tendency to drop off at a moment's notice when not provided with adequate distractions."

"I was tired," she grumbled. "And if you hadn't let me use you as a pillow or covered me up I never would have got comfortable and slept so long."

"I see," he said. "Next time I'll keep my chivalry to myself."

"How about just your coat and your shoulders?" she said, and he laughed.

"Well," he said, sliding the book towards her, "maybe if you get a moment between naps, you can skim through the first chapter and see what you think - whether it's too girly for me or not."

"But you're reading it," she said.

"I've read it before," he said. "Many times."

She pulled the book towards her and smiled cheekily at him, her dark eyes sparkling. "Do you always read such girly books?"

"Yes," he said, stifling a laugh. "I much prefer bodices to robots."

He took a sip of his Butterbeer, and she waited just long enough before she said: "I thought you didn't want to talk about your sex-life?"

He suspected she got what she was going for. He dissolved into a bizarre cross between a choking fit and indignant protest, and she let out a peel of rather raucous laughter, clapping her hands together in glee as he coughed.

When he'd recovered enough, he glared at her half-heartedly, and she looked away, smirking. He noticed their empty bottles. "Would you like another drink?" he asked.

"Are you going to try and make me choke on it?"

"No," he said. "I would never be that childish."

"Alright, then," she said. He got up and rummaged in the disastrous shambles of a pantry until he found what he was looking for.

He emerged a moment later, and handed her one of the bottles. She eyed it suspiciously. "You haven't shaken this or anything, have you?"

"What's the matter?" he said. "Don't you trust me?"

"Any particular reason I should?"

"Surely," he said, "a boring man is nothing if not trustworthy. Or at the very least, predictable."

She eyed him and then the bottle, and seemed to come to a decision. She grabbed his off the table, and swapped them, forcing the one she had been holding into his hand. She gave him a falsely sweet smile of triumph and nodded at the bottle he was holding to indicate that he should open it. He did, and when it didn't fizz all over him, she looked vaguely miffed. She reached for hers and opened it.

Her shriek as it spurted into her face seemed genuinely surprised.

He rocked back and forth in his chair, shaking with raspy laughter. The sight of her pink fringe sopping and the foamy liquid dripping from her nose and chin was even more amusing than he anticipated. He clung to the table to steady himself, crying with laughter.

"You bastard!" she shrieked. "How on earth can you possibly have known - "

He wiped the tears from his eyes. Tonks sat, dripping and glaring at him. Which only made him laugh harder. She flicked Butterbeer at him until he stopped laughing, but when he looked up she was grinning at him.

"That was a rotten trick," she said.

"You think?" he said. "I thought it was rather a good one."

"A good one?"

"It's your own fault," he said. "If you'd trusted me, you wouldn't be wet."

"Oh thank you, Professor," she said. "Next time you want to teach me a lesson could we do it in a slightly more orthodox way?"

"No," he said. "Where would be the fun in that?"

As she took out her wand and started drying her T shirt, he conjured a towel for her hair and handed it to her.

"Such a gentleman," she said.

"Quite."

He got up to fetch her another drink. "Oh no," she said, eying the bottle in his extended hand with contempt from underneath her towel. "I'm not falling for that again."

"I wouldn't do it twice."

"Wouldn't you?"

"I think I made my point the first time," he said.

She eyed him cynically, and then took the bottle and opened it, tensing slightly as she did as if she didn't quite trust him not to do it again. "How did you know what I'd do, anyway?" she said, ruffling her now dry hair with her other hand before vanishing the towel.

"That would be telling," he said, suppressing a grin.

They sipped their drinks quietly for a while. "Since you owe me," she said, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

For a moment, she seemed to think better of it, but then shook her head slightly and her expression became a good deal more focused and resolved. "Why don't you fancy me?" she said. "I'm very fanciable."

He leant back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. He pressed his lips together to stop himself from saying something stupid, knowing that he'd have to chose his words carefully. "I daresay you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said, watching her reaction carefully.

"You don't think I'm fanciable?"

She was watching him as carefully as he was watching her, and the thought unnerved him a little. He looked away before answering. "I'm sure some people find you very attractive," he said.

"But you're not one of them?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then you do?"

"I didn't say that either," he said.

He met her eye, to find her looking at him as if she was carefully weighing up whether to smile or put her hands around his throat and start squeezing. "So do you fancy me or not?" she said, finally deciding on a smile.

"I believe I made my stance quite plain earlier," he said.

"Yes," she said, "but that was earlier, and you might just have been saying that because Sirius was here."

"Yes," he said, "I might have been."

She let out an amused exasperated sigh, and he couldn't resist pressing things a little further. "Anyway," he said, "I'm far too old for you."

"So you do fancy me, then?" she said.

"I didn't say that," he said. "I said I was too old for you, which I am."

"I don't think so," she said. "And anyway, if you didn't fancy me, you'd have just said so."

Remus smiled to himself. He couldn't fault her logic.

Even though he knew he shouldn't be flirting with Tonks, he really couldn't help it. "Not necessarily," he said, rubbing his chin in an effort to surreptitiously hide his grin behind his hand. "I might have just been being polite."

"You didn't care about being polite earlier."

"And you took that so well," he said, raising an eyebrow at her, "I decided I'd make the same mistake twice."

She folded her arms across her chest, looking every inch the sullen teenager. "Do you ever give anyone a straight answer to anything?"

He couldn't resist it. "Might do," he said. Her eyes flashed but he could tell she was desperately trying not to smile.

"You're infuriating," she said. "If I had something to throw, I'd be throwing it at you right now."

Happy to oblige, Remus gave her a good-natured smile, took out his wand and conjured a pillow. He tossed it to her. She sneered at him, and then whacked him on the head with it.

Having had much worse inflicted on him over the years by infuriated Marauders, he didn't even bother to raise his arms defensively, which she seemed to find absolutely maddening. She whacked him again. "You said you were going to throw it at me, not beat me with it," he said.

"Can we have less of your pedanticness, please?" she said, swatting him with the pillow again and ruffling his hair into his eyes.

He caught the pillow and looked at her over the top of it through his fringe, trying desperately not to smile. "The word," he said slowly, "is 'pedantry'."

"Gah!"

Her eyes flashed with desperate annoyance and wrestled the pillow out of his grip, and hit him on the head with it, three times, in quick succession. He laughed. So she hit him again. At least that's what he assumed it was for. "Are you quite finished?" he said.

"No," she said. She swatted him on the shoulder another couple of times and then sank back in her chair.

"How about now?"

"Yes," she said. She clutched the pillow to her chest and shot him a sulky glower over the top.

He looked away, aware that if he met her eye he'd be forced to laugh, and somehow he knew she wouldn't take kindly to it. He took a fortifying sip of Butterbeer. "Do you always get this tetchy when people won't say whether or not they fancy you?"

She reached for her own bottle and took a long swig. "I just don't understand why you won't answer the bloody question."

"I did answer the bloody question," he said. "I just didn't give you a yes or no."

She looked as if she was about to hit him again, and when she didn't he was quite surprised. He thought he probably deserved it. "Why won't you?" she said.

The muscles in his cheek twitched, almost against his wishes, pulling his mouth into a half-smile. He thought momentarily, and then leant towards her, keenly aware that he was considerably closer to her than he ever had been before.

"Surely," he said, meeting her eye and studying her gaze for any hint of what she was thinking, "a more interesting question than whether I fancy you or not, is - " he paused, momentarily uncertain about if he really wanted to ask, " - why do you care?"

"I don't."

Her answer was instantaneous, knee-jerk, unconsidered, and consequently told him everything he needed to know. He leant back in his chair. "Then why did you ask?" he said.

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly in realisation and accusation. "You think I fancy you."

"I wouldn't dare to presume any such thing," he said, his lips twitching with amusement. He really hadn't thought he'd been that obvious about it, although she did seem to have a knack for seeing through him every now and then.

"Well I don't," she said.

"I know."

"Good."

Tonks studied the table, one foot jittering against the leg of her chair. "And even if I did," she said, "you shouldn't let your head swell because I'm known for my excessively poor taste in men."

"Right," he said, desperately suppressing a grin.

"So if I did - which I don't - it's not a compliment."

"I'm glad we've sorted that out."

He finished his Butterbeer, and then got to his feet, thinking that a tactical retreat at this point was the best thing for him. "I think I might turn in," he said.

"Oh."

He wondered if she actually sounded disappointed, or if he was imagining it because it was what he wanted to hear. Either way, he thought he should probably leave.

He was almost through the door when she said, rather unexpectedly: "It wouldn't matter if I did, anyway."

He paused and turned back to face her. "Wouldn't it?" he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"No," she said, "because you're really, really annoying."

Remus grinned. "Why are you smiling?" she said.

"Because you've upgraded me from boring to annoying," he said. "It's progress."

Before she could say anything else, he turned and opened the door. "Goodnight," he said, and stepped into the corridor.

Amazing, he thought, how so much can emerge from one little question.

As he sank onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling, he wondered what on earth he was going to do with the answers.