Title: Everybody Tells Me So
Author: moonreader
Rating & Warnings: T/PG13 for suggestive dialogue and a warning for… um, hats?
Word Count: 3,062
Word Prompt: Hats.
Quote: "I don't care too much for money / Money can't buy me love." – The Beatles
Summary: The tale of how a hat brought Nymphadora Tonks and Remus John Lupin together….
Era: Spring of OotP
Featured Characters & Other Pairings: Remus/Tonks.
Genres: Romance.
Author's Notes: I'm attempting not to be bitter about the irony of writing a romance piece just after my boyfriend broke up with me right before our anniversary. Cue major writer's block. Hence, my sincere apologies if this piece needs a lot of work; I forced myself to write when I didn't feel like it, and this is what came out of it…
This piece is dedicated to Simone, Nicole, and Maya, who gave me excellent writing and cheering music, love, chocolate, cake, support, and who listened to my rants. I love you all.
And many thanks to the fabulous folks at Livejournal, for giving me an excuse to force myself to write, and for adding to the collection of well-written R/T fics.
Part One: Order Meeting or A Splendid Piece of Haberdashery
She was wearing a bright red wool hat that clashed horribly with her magenta hair. He knew it was rude to stare, but the red hat on her dark pink curls pulled at his eyes and he couldn't look away from the elegantly crafted roses sewn on the brim. As the Order members shuffled themselves into seats at the table, he managed to tear his eyes away long enough to avoid tripping over his chair.
Once seated (across from her, but that was merely accidental), he watched as she leaned both elbows on the table, noting the shadows the hat cast on the smooth planes of her face. She had a lovely nose – or, at least, he was fairly sure that it was her natural nose – in any case, it was perfect, not too small and not too large.
Remus John Lupin, you are in love, an annoying inner voice told him smugly.
Shut up, he ordered it firmly. He was quite sure that any sense of being 'in love' was merely the product of an overactive imagination. He liked Tonks very much (who wouldn't, after all, like a witch who was clever, determined, loyal, brave, and funny?) but as no more than a good friend, despite the way her lovely eyebrows arched and her rosy lips curled upwards at the corners as if she were perpetually sharing a private joke with herself…
Shut up! he thought more vehemently. Hush, quiet, silence, shut up. He refused to let his imagination ruin his friendship with Tonks. And, after all, it was only her hat that rendered him unable to look away from her. He wondered if she could tell him where she had purchased such a hat – it really was quite a splendid piece of haberdashery. Not to mention that it complimented her beautiful–
Remus wondered yet again why he couldn't control his own thoughts. In his Hogwarts days, it had been his imagination that had lead to some of the more exciting adventures and pranks of the Marauders. James had complimented him more than once on his fine powers of imagination. There had been that time he had come up with the idea of making Eliza Midgeon's hair lose its curl whenever she couldn't answer a question…
Tonks twisted a lock of curly magenta hair around her finger, and Remus wondered if it was as silky as it looked. Somehow, the awful clash of red hat and magenta hair only seemed to warm her creamy skin. He wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked…
Some days, Remus Lupin hated his imagination.
*******
Noticing the way Remus's eyes seemed unfocused, Tonks wondered idly how many Order members actually paid attention for the duration of a meeting. The irony was that the war seemed furthest away during the times when Dedalus droned on and on (and on) about the shopkeepers reporting sightings of Death Eaters, at least nine-tenths of which were surely false… There had to be a more efficient way of conducting these meetings… or at least a less boring way….
Her eyes fell on Remus's hat. It had been the first thing she noticed when she'd entered the room. It was a faded, dusty blue, with a wide brim made to keep off the English rain, and tipped to one side in a manner that could have been considered rakish in another man. On him, it spoke of distraction, and her fingers itched to adjust it for him.
It was quite a nice hat, all things considered. It had clearly seen quite a bit of use, but that only reflected the quality of craftsmanship, if it was so durable. It was slightly faded, but it still looked quite fine on his thick grey-brown hair. She wondered why he was wearing it inside – she was wearing her hat inside, of course, but that was because she had crammed it more firmly onto her head and hurried into the kitchen to save her dignity after tripping over that dreadful troll leg umbrella stand for what must have been the fifth time. Bloody awful piece of furniture, that.
Can one ramble in one's own thoughts? Tonks mused. Evidently so, as the troll leg umbrella stand had reminded her of Remus again. To be fair, many things lately seemed to remind her of Remus. And he had helped her up, very kindly, after she had tripped over the troll leg this particular time. Really, what horrific sense of fashion inspired people to keep the hollow, severed leg of an animal in their parlor, let alone store umbrellas in it?
Musing was amusing, she reflected. She groaned quietly at her unintentional pun. Even in private jokes with oneself, there is a limit to puns in personal musings. Remus seemed like someone who mused, though – perhaps too much for his own good, Tonks thought. Would you call such a person a muser? Appropriate, as it was an anagram of his name. Now she had really better pay less attention to the way Remus's hat brightened his blue eyes, and more to the meeting, since Dedalus was winding down. She wondered if Remus still remembered where he had gotten that hat. It really was quite a splendid piece of haberdashery.
Part Two: The Hat Shop or Dedalus Diggle's Delightful Diagon Derbys (& other hats)
Tonks opened the door, wincing slightly as the charmed hat above the doorframe sang a few rusty bars of 'God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.'
"Completely," she muttered, "out of season."
"Good morning, Nymphadora!" Dedalus chirped, scurrying out from behind a rack laden with bowler hats in every hue imaginable, from aqua blue (who would wear an aqua blue bowler hat, anyhow? Tonks liked bold colour choices, but there was a reasonable limit) to a colour that looked too much like dried blood for Tonks' peace of mind.
"Just Tonks," she corrected him automatically. Dedalus would wear a aqua blue bowler, judging by that violet top hat.
"What kind of hat would you like?" he asked excitedly. "A summer hat? We have new anti-sunburn charms on all our sun hats. Or–" he attempted to lower his squeaky voice– "something for a mission?"
Tonks shook her head, short blond locks flying, and opened her mouth.
"Oh, is it for yourself? Or for a special someone?" He raised a bushy eyebrow.
"Dedalus, I'd love a new hat, but I'm in a bit of a hurry right now," Tonks said politely.
"Right, of course, of course. Business has been very bad lately, you know."
Before he could launch into another monologue about how the new demand for waterproof straw hats (for a sudden summer downpour) meant higher prices and smaller profit margins, the hat above the door began to drone a tuneless rendition of "Yellow Submarine."
Tonks turned to see a brown-haired figure in a patched navy blue coat send a glare at the singing hat.
"Good morning, Remus."
Remus turned and smiled at her, and suddenly Tonks forget where she was. One didn't see a smile like that every day; Remus was one of those people whose smile made you smile back simply because of the happiness in his tired face.
"Good morning, Tonks. Good morning, Dedalus."
"Good morning, Remus!" Deladus looked delighted to have a grand total of two customers in his shop. "How are you today? What can I do for you?"
"I'd just like to browse, if that's all right," Remus replied. "Lovely name for a shop, by the way. It's very…."
"Alliterative?" Tonks supplied, walking over to a rack of berets.
"That's the word." Remus smiled at her again, and Tonks walked right into the rack. She knew she was blushing; she couldn't look to see if Remus had noticed that she had walked into a rack of hats.
"Thank you!" Dedalus beamed. "We had to add the 'and other hats' after it became clear that people were under the – mistaken – impression that we only sold derbies. But we have the finest selection of hats in Diagon Alley! Maybe in all of London."
Remus looked at Tonks, as if to say, "What can you do, when you just want to find a new hat…"
"I'm sure it's the best hat shop in London," Tonks agreed diplomatically.
"Well!" Dedalus clapped his hands together. "I'd better get on with the paperwork. Those new anti-sunburn charms cost a fortune…" He nodded to Remus and Tonks and disappeared behind a counter stacked high with straw hats of every shape and size.
Tonks hastily checked her watch and began perusing the berets. She only had twenty minutes before her next shift at the Auror office. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus pick up a forest green fedora and twirl it around his finger. Wasn't he going to talk to her?
Tonks quickly reminded herself that she was in a hurry, and it really didn't matter if Remus wanted to talk to her or not, as long as they could work together on missions.
Roaming through the rows of berets, Tonks' eye fell on a lovely blue-green wool specimen. She reached out a hand to feel it – and saw another hand on the hat.
"I'm sorry," Remus said. "Did you want to try on the hat?"
"Yes, but you can try it on if you like."
"No, no, you go ahead."
"Remus, if there's one thing I hate, it's politeness wars," Tonks told him. "Try the hat on."
Remus put the hat on.
"Now turn a little to the side… there," Tonks instructed. "It looks quite good on you. Very dashing." i Anything would look good on him… /i
"Really?" Remus craned his head to look in a nearby mirror. "Not bad, I suppose. You try it on, now."
Tonks obliged, cocking the hat at an angle.
"Lovely," Remus told her. "You should get it."
"No, you should," Tonks objected. "I'm sure it looks better on you."
"Nonsense," Remus said.
Tonks checked the price tag. "It's five galleons. Why don't we split it and we can share the hat?"
"Are you sure?" Remus asked.
"Positive."
They went up to the counter, where Tonks pulled out her money. She stood awkwardly as Remus painstakingly counted out sickles and knuts. If she didn't fear injuring his bloody pride, she would pay for the whole thing herself.
Another customer entered the shop and the hat began to sing, "Can't buy me love, oh…" Tonks watched Remus stack the last knut in the pile. "I may not have a lot to give, but what I got I'll give to you," the hat sang.
"Remus?"
"Yes, Tonks?"
Tonks cleared her throat. "Would you – would you like to have dinner sometime?"
Remus looked at her and asked surprisingly forwardly, "Are you asking me out?"
Part Three: Date Night, or A Brash Mirror
Tonks looked around her room in despair. How could she have a full wardrobe of clothes, transfiguration skills, and still not find anything suitable to wear for her date? At least, she was fairly sure that it was really a date, and not just a friendly dinner between colleagues.
"I suppose you could just wear what you have on now," her mirror commented slyly.
Tonks made a rude gesture in the general direction of her wardrobe.
"I am not going on a date – or whatever it is! – with Remus clad only in panties and a purple bra!" she muttered out loud.
"I bet he'd like-" the mirror began, before Tonks closed the wardrobe door to muffle its comments.
She waved her wand, summoning a dress from under the pile of clothes on the bed, muttered an ironing charm, and transfigured it from pink to black.
"It's a knee-length black dress," she told herself, pulling it over her head. "It's appropriate for everything."
She opened the wardrobe door again and surveyed herself in the mirror, which muttered something she didn't quite catch along the lines of "low neckline for a casual dinner between colleagues." She ignored her brash mirror and morphed her hair into waves of deep pink that fell below her shoulders. Slipping her feet into simple black heels, she firmly closed the door to her bedroom and Apparated to the restaurant.
*******
Remus was later ashamed to admit that he couldn't remember much of that dinner. He didn't know what he ordered, if it was good, what they talked about, or… well, anything but Tonks. He was determined to be a gentleman and not stare, but that was hard when a lock of her hair brushed the skin exposed by the V-neck of her dress…. He definitely remembered that he had knocked his glass over (since he hadn't been looking at the table), and she had helped him clean up, but knocked the glass over again, breaking it. He thought that they talked about books, and hats (he found himself admitting that he had been wearing the hat indoor during the Order meeting because Sirius had told him he had a bald spot), but the first moment he remembered with clarity was when the bill came.
He reached for his battered wallet, attempting to mentally tally up the cost of the meal without remembering what they had eaten, but Tonks shook her head, pink hair flying.
He only remembered flashes of the rest of the evening: walking outside into a cool, clear night, watching Tonks point out constellations through the London haze…. Apparating Tonks back to her place, catching her as she tripped on her doormat and trying to pretend his hands hadn't landed where they had… Looking at the way the streetlights lit her face and deciding that it might not be a bad idea at all to kiss her, but by then it didn't matter because she was kissing him….
Epilogue:
Sixteen months later.
"Do I get to wear the hat today, Remus? It is my wedding day, after all."
"It's my wedding, too, Dora!"
"Exactly. So I should wear the hat."
"Sorry, was that supposed to be logic? I didn't quite follow."
"Fine-"
[Sounds of kissing.]
"Remus, can I wear the hat?"
"Yes… wait. Stop smirking! That was underhanded."
"Oh, hush. You know you love it."
"No, I love you."
[Sounds of kissing.]
"We should go. Put the hat on, Dora."
"I suppose we shouldn't be late to our own wedding."
"No, we have to be on time so we can leave early."
"I like the way you think."
The End
*******
I decided to have the epilogue be all in dialogue… someday I'd like to do a dialogue piece, but I haven't gotten around to it yet… it was very fun and comparatively easy to write, though! Anyhow, the fiasco at dinner was my Nymphadora moment of the week about two months ago, except I knocked another glass over as well (thankfully without breaking that one)!
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