Alexandrite

The little package, neatly wrapped in plain brown paper, had been sitting on his desk for weeks, while he had been steadfastly ignoring it. It was a gift, one that he had spent an inordinate amount of time selecting and could ill afford, and it was well over a week since the intended recipient's birthday had come and gone. Remus kept telling himself that there were any number of good and legitimate reasons why he had not been able to see her; after all, as an Auror she had responsibilities that consumed a great deal of time as well. It was not entirely his fault that he had not been able to coincide with her schedule so as to meet up with her at 12 Grimmauld Place; it wasn't like he was dodging her. He was simply busy, as apparently she was too; he'd see her soon.

After the third week had passed and the package had acquired a thin layer of dust, he finally had to admit to himself that he was indeed dodging her. As he stood in the doorway of his bedroom staring at the small object lurking on his desk, Remus realized that he was far more nervous than he ought to be about presenting Tonks with a birthday gift. His lack of steady work only provided him with a meager income, and while the gift he had chosen for her was extravagant by his standards he was acutely aware that most people would consider it trivial. Irritation and an irrational surge of shame burned in his chest as he glared at the gift, noting the cheap brown paper that covered the package and the less than perfect wrapping job that left corners puckered and sagging. He hated being poor, hated that he was incapable of being able to do more than subsist, with little or none left over for anything else. He would never admit it to Tonks, or anyone else, but the contents of the little package had caused him to miss more than a couple of meals. But tawdry or simple as it may seem to most, he counted it as worth every knut he had spent on it, because it was perfect for her.

It was because of the package that he had finally made up his mind to pay her a visit. After having spent so much time and thought on her gift, not to mention what it had cost him, Remus decided that he had no excuse not to see that she received it. And even more than that, he missed her. He hadn't seen Tonks in over three weeks, and despite wanting to leave her unencumbered with him her recent absence had left a vacuum in his life. He found it curious that she had made such a noticeable space for herself in such a short time.

As he picked up his wand and the package from the desk, Remus studied himself in the full-length mirror that stood across the room. A serious man with silver liberally streaking his light brown hair stared solemnly back, smoothing the faded clothes that he was wearing. A rough spot caught against his finger as his hands brushed over the fabric and he looked down in some surprise at the stitches he had touched. He frowned; these were the best Muggle clothes that he owned, the few holes that had opened having been neatly mended, and yet they still looked shabby and old. He had wanted to look nice when he stopped in, but it appeared that there was little that he could do to enhance himself; she would have to settle for the same old Remus. Taking his coat from the back of the chair, he turned his back on the mirror and left the room.

He was chuckling wryly by the time he locked the cottage door. She never seemed to care how he looked; it was entirely his own pride that caused him to fuss over his appearance for a change. Without ever asking for more from him, she seemed to draw these little, stray impulses out of him, little gestures that were never important, and yet to him seemed necessary. Such as this outing, which was a departure from his usual habits.

Long years of dealing with the prejudice associated with lycanthropy had caused him to avoid most social situations, except for small gathering with close friends. Therefore he had also developed the habit of staying clear of most casual contacts as well, shielding himself from the most common response to his condition: horror and desertion. But that wasn't the case with Tonks; he had no need to hide that aspect of himself from her. She had already embraced the wolf within him with an acceptance so unfettered that it frightened him sometimes. Even the Marauders had treated the werewolf with wary respect, while she seemed to approach the beast with a blind faith that he would not harm her. It terrified him, and yet he had to admit that he relished having such trust placed in him, and he thought that he would do himself injury before allowing harm to befall her.

As he prepared to Apparate to the London neighborhood where she lived, he considered the protectiveness that had sprung up within him about anything concerning her. Not that she really needed protection, he thought, reflecting on her accomplishments as an Auror. But ever since she had broken the rules to spend a full moon night with him she had occupied a special place in his heart, and indeed his life, although he was reluctant to allow it. And sadly, sometimes that protectiveness made him keep her at a distance. After all, if he truly wanted to keep her safe then he had to keep her from tying herself too tightly to him.

And yet here he was, off on a visit to see her. He tried to tell himself that it would be enjoyable to see Tonks, and perhaps even catch up with her mother, Andromeda, as well. He hadn't see Andromeda since school; the last time had been one weekend just after leaving Hogwarts when he and Sirius had paid a visit to her at home, strictly for the purpose of aggravating her sisters Narcissa and Bellatrix, and scandalizing their parents. Finally he gave up; there was no way that he could convince himself that he had the slightest interest in catching up with an old friend. It was her daughter that he needed to see.

That thought brought him up short, and he very nearly turned around and went back into his house. What the hell was he thinking, pursuing a woman- a girl!- almost young enough to be his daughter? No matter how he tried to dissemble, he knew what had been motivating the design of the gift in the brown-papered package. Whether or not she would realize, he would know every time that he saw it. But he took a deep breath and steadied himself, determined to see the task through regardless of how difficult it now appeared. He hated to leave loose ends, and he had put a lot of effort into this.

With a sharp crack he Apparated, appearing moments later in a dark corner of a tube station in London. While his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of the station, he straightened his clothing and then set off up the stairs and toward the street, and Tonks' neighborhood. She had taken up a house of her own but it wasn't far from where her parents lived, as well as being close to both the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Trotting up the steps and into the cool afternoon, he patted his coat to assure himself that his wand was secure in its pocket and set off down the narrow street towards her home.

After a pleasant, short walk, Remus came to the row of houses where Tonks lived. He hadn't been there before, and so he was mildly surprised to see that she lived in such a run down area. The row of buildings was old and worn, their curtained windows seeming to blink sleepily at him as he mounted the steps of her porch to knock tentatively upon her door. As he waited for an answer, Remus looked over the small, brick house. A couple of scraggly shrubs were growing on either side of the porch, and a sad little potted daisy was sitting on the porch railing, struggling for life in a pot that was much too small for it. With an unguarded smile, Remus fingered the faded and tattered green ribbon that had been tied carefully around the pot, making a mental note to get a larger container for Tonks' flowers.

Still no one answered the door and Remus knocked again, a bit harder. He knew that she was off duty today; surely she wasn't out? Knocking for a third time, he hoped fervently that she would open the door, complaining that he had woken her from an extended lie-in.

"Oi! You looking for Dorie, then?"

At the young, thin voice, Remus turned and saw a skinny boy with mousy brown hair staring at him with curious eyes. Giving the lad a pleasant smile he answered, "Yes, I am actually. Is she out, do you know?"

The boy stuck out his lip and gave him a suspicious look. "Why d'ya wanna know?" he demanded, tossing a small ball up and catching it in a grubby hand.

Remus smiled again, as the boy's actions reminded him of an old friend. "She's a friend of mine, and I came by to give her a birthday present." He held up the small brown package, and the boy glowered at him.

"'Er birfday was weeks ago. I don't believe you." The young lad planted his hands on his hips and glared belligerently at Remus, who was inwardly amused at the child's protective stance.

"I know that it was weeks ago; it was November twenty fourth. But I have been busy, and she has as well I assume, since I have been missing her at work." Remus grimaced slightly. "It's why I needed to drop it off personally, rather than just sending it to her by post. I feel bad enough as it is."

The boy thought about it for a moment, absently scratching a scab on one elbow as he weighed the statements for veracity. Finally he gave Remus the once-over and fixed him with a hard look. "You're really 'er friend? You aren't 'ere to give 'er trouble?"

Remus frowned. "Of course I'm her friend. Do people give her trouble often?"

The boy assumed a cagey expression. "Nah, not really. But a couple 'ave come 'round that I didn't like the looks of none."

"You're quite the little guardian, aren't you?" Remus chuckled as the boy bristled at him. "What's your name?"

"Elliott. And yeah, I like Dorie; what of it?" The boy threw out his pitifully thin chest defiantly, and Remus hastened to salvage the child's dignity. Kneeling, he thrust his hand out to the lad.

"Elliott, I am very pleased to meet you," he said seriously. "My name is Remus Lupin, and anyone who is such a good friend to Dorie is certainly a friend of mine."

Elliott considered the offered hand warily before finally accepting it with a dirty paw. "That's a funny name," he commented.

Remus shrugged amicably. "It's the only one I have, and I suppose that I am used to answering to it. I don't mind that it's funny." Elliott cocked his head to the side, and gave Remus a big, gap-toothed grin.

"I got a funny name too, but I knock down anyone who laughs at it. Nobody laughs at me," he added, indicating himself with his thumb. The boy tossed his ball into the air again, snagging it neatly as it dropped.

Remus only shook his head, more amused than chagrined by the Muggle child's bluster. Despite the boy's bad manners and lack of hygiene, he found Elliott to be an impressively acute young boy. And if appearances were correct, Tonks had found herself a very loyal little friend. He smiled warmly at the boy, feeling oddly pleased that his friend had moved this hellion to such allegiance. "I imagine not. So, is Dorie out at the moment?" he asked politely, wanting to find out while Elliott still seemed agreeable.

The boy snatched the ball from the air and pocketed it. "She's over by the green," he said. "C'mon, I'll take ya." Without a glance back, he set off down the sidewalk with a cocky swagger and Remus followed, trying to contain his mirth at the child's bravado.

Elliott's strut wasn't a very fast one, so Remus took the opportunity to look around a bit as they walked. Tonks' neighborhood was old and more than a little seedy, though many of the inhabitants had tried to make the buildings look as clean and tidy as possible. Most had plants of some sort or other adorning the tiny front yards or in little windowboxes, and a few of the homes had small, wobbling fences enclosing the few paces that constituted their yards. A grizzled old poodle yapped furiously at them from behind a window as they passed by one tired-looking brick home, ceasing only when Elliott flung an acorn at it with a shout.

"So, whaddya giving 'er, then?" Elliott tossed over his shoulder, still not looking away from his course down the sidewalk.

"I think that would be private, wouldn't you agree?"

The boy stopped and turned, studying Remus through over-large eyes. "Jewelry, or perfume," he said decisively, nodding to himself. "Or some other such thing a bloke gives a girl."

Remus stopped too, staring at the Muggle boy in bemusement. "Where did you pick that up?" he asked.

"So I'm right?"

"It's a cloak pin," Remus admitted.

Elliott snorted. "That's right fusty, it is. What kind of guy gives a girl something so old? Nobody wears cloaks anymore."

It was Remus' turn to snort. "I've seen Dorie in a cloak. She's quite fetching in one, too," he added with a wink, and Elliott gaped at him. Remus laughed aloud at the consternation on the boy's face, reining himself in with difficulty. Elliott recovered quicker, again glaring at the older man. "I'm sorry, lad. But she is a lovely young woman, one who does indeed wear cloaks, and I had this pin made just for her."

Somewhat mollified, Elliott sniffed noncommittally and resumed walking with Remus trailing behind him, thinking about the gift he was giving to Tonks.

It was a simple cloak pin, but he had designed it himself and paid a friend to cast the setting and pin. It was cast in the shape of a chameleon, with a round, faceted stone set in the eye. He had wanted it to be silver, but the precious metal had been beyond his means and repellant to him as well. So he had settled on copper, glad that the cheaper ore would at least age in a beautiful fashion, adding verdigris as yet another element to the piece.

He was fully aware that most would consider it to be a gaudy piece of costume jewelry, but they wouldn't see the true value of the pin. The stone that was the chameleon's eye was worth nearly as much as a diamond of the same size, but it was much more colorful. It was, in fact, what the entire piece had been designed around. Remus had always collected semi-precious stones, most of which he had mined himself. None of his finds had ever yielded anything of great value, although in leaner times he had occasionally sold some of his nicer pieces in order to eat. He had happened upon that piece of alexandrite in a trade from someone who thought it was charmed quartz, and had never ceased being thankful for his luck. Alexandrite was an uncommon gem, shifting in color depending on the light: green in the sun, purple in the shadows, blue when viewed at an angle.

When he had first encountered Tonks at the Order, a far cry from the child he had known as Sirius' cousin, he had thought of this stone for the first time in years. It had been tucked away carefully in the box containing his collection, and he couldn't help but compare how its shifting colors were like the varied masks that she wore around people. He didn't mean simply her infinite faces; he saw how she hid from people by showing them exactly what she thought they wanted her to be and rarely exposing her true face. He had seen glimpses of it, and wondered if she was actually the lonely girl that she appeared at those times. She also looked much older then, more like Sirius in some vague way about her eyes. It was a face that vanished instantly if she thought that someone was looking or if anyone spoke to her, and it intrigued him. He wanted to see that face smiling.

He was brought back to the here and now by the sounds of children's voices echoing off the buildings. Elliott's saunter had picked up a bit, and Remus had to step briskly to keep up with the scrawny lad. Soon the green came into view, a rolling expanse of common land dotted with trees. There was a small playground close to the last house of the row, where a few children were swinging or going down the slides, but most were involved in some inexplicable game that was obviously of their own creation. Their focus was centered on a young woman with spiky black hair running amidst them and making horrible faces as she chased them around and around. Every so often she would catch one, half tackling them and tickling them on the ground until they were gasping with hysterical laughter before leaping up to pursue some other youngster.

Remus watched them play, enthralled by the spectacle. A werewolf had bitten him at a very young age so he had rarely ever experienced the carefree joys of such a game when he was a child, and he observed it with a wistful longing. The mob of children, most of them nearly as ragged as Elliott, darted in and out of the trees shrieking as she pursued them hotly, laughing her head off the whole time. Elliott had shed his poise of indifference and was watching the scene avidly, and Remus could almost feel the boy quivering to join them.

Remus leaned against a nearby elm tree and tried to blend into the background while he observed her. He was suddenly reluctant to disturb the playful scene, and found that it was enough for him to know that she was safe and happy. For a moment he had the urge to return home, but while he didn't want to approach her, neither did he really want to leave. Tonks spun in his direction as she lunged after a laughing boy, her eyes shining and her cheeks rosy from exertion and the chilly air. As he watched, she paused for a moment to run a hand through her sweaty, spiky hair while she caught her breath, then she was charging off after a girl with red plaits. She was just as disheveled as any of the ragged children racing about the green; she was panting, flushed, and dirty, with grass stains all over her clothing. He had never seen her look more beautiful.

A yearning filled him once more, this time not for what he had missed, but for what he wouldn't allow himself. She was beautiful, radiating vitality, which made it all the more difficult for him to ignore the urgings of his own heart to pursue her. How could he, in all fairness to her, entangle her in his life, a werewolf's life? How could she know that she would be the next thing to a pariah, the outcast mate of a monster? Impossible; he held her in far too much esteem to inflict that lot upon her. And so he watched her, anonymously from afar, drinking in her presence.

"So, you gonna give 'er that present or what, Mister?" The question startled him, jerking him from his reverie, and Remus looked down at Elliott with all the emotion of his last thoughts plain on his face. Quickly he schooled his expression to blankness, and tried to assume a light tone of voice as he answered.

"I don't want to disturb her. She looks like she is having so much fun." The last sentence sounded longing to his ears and he winced inwardly, hoping that Elliott hadn't caught it as well. The boy only snorted loudly, turning his attention back to the gang of children on the green and their taller companion. Feeling that he'd dodged the proverbial bullet, Remus sighed softly, but Elliott twisted back to face him abruptly and fixed him with an angry glare.

"You fancy 'er, dontcha?" He wrinkled his nose up and scowled, and then continued on without waiting for a reply. "You're giving 'er jewelry, even if it is dead boring, but you're doing it late. You wanna give it to 'er in person, but you don't wanna talk to 'er. What's your problem, Mister?"

Remus opened his mouth, and then closed it. He had no response; the boy had him dead to rights. As he was floundering for a decent response, Elliott gave a gusty sigh and his face softened a little. Looking up at Remus with a serious expression, he said, "You've really got it bad, ain'tcha?"

Once again Remus swallowed hard as the accuracy of the boy's intuition rammed home in his chest. He fought to assume his professional persona, anything to armor himself against the onslaught from this perceptive young lad. Clearing his throat, he straightened unconsciously and addressed Elliott in a stern voice.

"Dorie is a friend of mine," he stated in a voice that brooked no argument. "She is a lovely young woman, but I am nearly old enough to be her father. And it is hardy appropriate for you to be judging me and my actions." He glowered in what he hoped was a menacing fashion, but Elliott seemed utterly unimpressed by his authority. He only smirked knowingly at the older man, but then all at once his expression changed from mocking to thoughtful. Screwing his face up in concentration, he regarded Remus through slit eyes while he pondered whatever idea had just come to him.

"'Ey..." Elliott seemed hesitant, as well as slightly embarrassed. "Are you the bloke wiv the pet wolf?"

Remus blinked in surprise at the question, aware that Elliott had taken him off guard far too many times today. Under his gaze, the boy began squirming uncomfortably, finally dropping his eyes to the ground as he stammered, "'Cause she told me about that fellow. She likes 'im a lot, she does, and she'd wanna see 'im even if 'e was giving 'er a fusty, outdated, late birfday present. She'd just be 'appy 'e came to visit." He looked back up at Remus, a little bit of jealousy burning in his eyes.

Stunned, Remus turned back to the play out on the green. What had she told this child, this streetwise urchin who threw his deepest secrets at his feet like yesterday's newspaper? Did she know that he cared for her, more than he had any right to and more than was proper? Could she have guessed what he had only recently discovered himself?

Could she possibly return that affection?

No. Even if by some fluke she did feel affection for a man much older than she was, it would be absolutely unconscionable to allow it to grow. He couldn't allow her to become attached to him, to be treated with contempt for associating with him and to live in danger of the wolf. He had thought this all through before. No woman deserved that, least of all one so brimming with life and promise. More resolute than ever, he dropped to one knee to look Elliott in the eyes.

"Yes, I am the man with the wolf," he said. "Elliott, I need you to do me a favor."

Elliott's face had brightened when Remus said that he had a wolf, but it became shuttered the instant the favor was mentioned. "Whaddya want me t'do?" he asked suspiciously.

Remus produced the little, brown package and held it out to the boy. "I would appreciate it very much if you would take this down to Dorie for me."

The boy stared at him with huge eyes. "But you like 'er," he insisted with simple logic.

"Yes, I do. But there are reasons why I can't do anything about that. Will you take it to her, please?"

Elliott looked at the gift, and then held his hand out to accept it from Remus. He weighed it in his hand as Remus rose, and then gave the man a crafty look. "What do I get for doing it for you?"

Remus had been expecting that question, and he replied with a tight smile, "You get to see the look on her face when she opens it."

Loud shouting drew their attention to the green, and they looked over in time to see Tonks skidding to an abrupt stop as a small boy cannoned across her path. Her arms waved about crazily before she overbalanced and crashed to the ground, and immediately about a half dozen of the children swarmed over her. Remus forgotten, Elliott launched himself across the green and into the fray screaming, "Get orf 'er, you nasty little gits!" He hurled a boy with unkempt blond hair away from her before being swept to the ground by another boy almost twice his size.

"Lay off, Elliott. It's just fun, eh?" the boy grunted, having trouble holding the scrawny lad, who was scuffling furiously in the grass to free himself.

"That was pants, Martin, you know it was! Get orf me!"

Remus slipped away from the commons as Tonks arose from the pile of kids to break up Elliott and Martin, hoping that all the excitement wouldn't cause Elliott to forget to give Tonks the package. Part of him regretted not being there to see Tonks' reaction to the gift, but he told himself that it was just as well; after all, there was no guarantee that she would truly like it. Ignoring a nagging voice that told him that he was cheating both Tonks and himself, he headed toward the tube to Apparate back to his cottage, feeling both content and strangely empty.

Almost all of the children had finally trailed off to their homes for dinner, leaving only Elliott to tag along after her, as always. Tonks had an inordinate fondness for the brat; she supposed that he reminded her of herself in some ways, or maybe she was simply amused by his defiant stance. Either way, he was as loyal as a terrier, and she appreciated the value of that. But today he was unusually subdued, despite his dramatic appearance on the green. She had caught him several times glancing over his shoulder toward the row of houses and the road, and he hadn't joined in many of the rougher activities with the rest of the kids. Something was definitely on his mind.

"Elliott, what's up? You haven't been yourself today." Tonks lowered herself to the ground, settling on the grass as comfortably as she could. She liked to sit when she spoke to the kids, rather than looming over them or stooping awkwardly to put her face near theirs. Elliott especially needed to have his dignity respected; she had a suspicion that he was not treated very kindly in whatever home he had, not that many of the children in this neighborhood came from great families.

Elliott shrugged, glancing around surreptitiously to make sure that no one was watching before shedding his tough-guy appearance and plopping down beside her. Picking at a blade of grass, he muttered, "Some'un came around again."

Tonks' gut twisted uncomfortably, although her face remained calm. This wasn't the first time that Elliott had mentioned people who were out of place in the neighborhood and asking questions regarding her. No adults had noticed anything odd about them, but the street smart little boy had immediately picked up a bad feeling about them and rushed to alert her. A good thing too; she and Elliott had crouched amid a neighbor's shrubs as they watched two men knock on her door and circle the building, peering into windows. She had recognized them as Macnair and Avery, and after that incident Dumbledore himself had recommended that she move into Grimmauld Place. But how could she leave the kids, now that those butchers knew her neighborhood?

"Were they the same ones as before?" she asked with a calmness that belied the speed at which her heart was racing.

Elliott gave her a reassuring, gap-toothed smile. "Nah, it was your friend wiv the pet wolf."

"Remus?" Tonks looked around, as though she would find him still hanging around the green. "Why didn't he come and talk to me? Elliott," she turned back to him with a stern look, "you didn't run him off, did you?"

The boy reddened slightly, but he didn't drop his gaze. "I brought 'im 'ere, but 'e was too yellow to talk. 'E gave me this to give to ya." Plunging his grubby hand into the pocket of his coat, he pulled out a small package, its brown paper creased and wrinkled as though it had seen better days. "'E said it's your birfday present."

"My birthday..." Tonks reached out to accept the small gift from Elliott, her brain buzzing. She had thought that she had somehow offended Remus; he seemed to have been avoiding her like the plague recently. The package was small and dirty, likely from being in Elliott's messy hands and clothes, but she fancied that she could sense the care that went into it. She turned it over in her hands, examining it from all sides and wondering what it could possibly contain.

"Are you gonna open it? Blimey, I think you and 'e are both daft! Don't nobody know 'ow a birfday works anymore?" Elliott's disgust was plain and comical on his face, and Tonks grinned widely at him as she tore open the paper.

Inside was a small box, and although part of her wanted to drag out the suspense she lifted the lid before Elliott could complain further. Nestled on a piece of cotton was a copper pin in the shape of a lizard, with a blue stone set in the eye. No, wait, she recognized it; it was a chameleon. "Brilliant!" she breathed, lifting it out of the box to view it better, and as she did the eye flashed green, then purple.

"Wicked!" hissed Elliott, peering over her shoulder. "'E said it was a cloak pin, but I thought it would be like the kind me gran wears. That's cool!"

Tonks didn't answer, still looking at her gift. She turned it about in the light, watching the stone's color changing and thinking about the man who had given it to her. How did he understand her so well? It was as though he saw through all her idiosyncrasies and seemed to find value in what was left. And how on earth could he afford this? She knew that he had no job. Touched and a little ashamed of what it must have cost him, Tonks brushed a light finger over the chameleon and a lump rose in her throat as she carefully pinned it onto the collar of her jacket. "Just until I can put it on my cloak," she assured Elliott as she stood and helped him to his feet.

They wandered back toward the houses, Elliott dragging his feet through the fallen leaves that had drifted to the edge of the sidewalk. His lagging pace made Tonks pause and wait for him several times, but wrapped up as she was in thoughts of a man with silver-brown hair, she didn't call him a sloth like she usually did. He noticed and scowled at her for a moment, but the expression quickly slipped into a wicked grin.

"You really wear a cloak?" he asked her slyly.

"Yes," Tonks replied, not really paying attention. "Why?"

"'S nothing. Only 'e said you was fetching in a cloak and I wondered when 'e seen you in one."

Tonks jerked out of her daydream, and choked, "What?"

Elliott smirked at her, his eyes twinkling. "Yeah, we talked a lot, me and 'im. But I gotta go 'ome now, see if me mum's bothered to make any dinner tonight. I'm 'ungry, I am." He turned lazily as if to walk up the street away from the direction of her home.

Fetching? "Wait! I've got...what have I got? I've got, um, crackers and marmalade and...pickles...noodles...wait, Elliott, come back! You've got to tell me...I'll order out!" she wailed, and the boy stopped and turned with a smile.

"All right then!" He ran happily back to her, and Tonks hurried him down the sidewalk rather than allowing time for his usual strut. Fetching? Remus thought she was fetching? She stifled a giggle, knowing full well that Elliott would tease her mercilessly, but couldn't banish the thrill of excitement racing through her. The warmth that had filled her from his gift was now magnified by the giddy swell of emotion rising within her. Taking Elliott's grubby hand in hers, Tonks vowed silently to get every word of the conversation out of him, along with his own observations, if she had to buy the entire contents of Honeydukes to do it.