Disclaimer – the pieces were fashioned by J.K. Rowling, and so was the
chess board, but the game is mine. Understand?
Every Flavor
"And I know I was wrong when I said it was true That it couldn't be me and be her in between without you."
--- The Cure
Remus was quite sure that Tonks meant well. She was a nice enough girl. Pretty, too. And young – too young for him . . .
He glared at his tea. He didn't want to drink it.
"I am not in love with her," he announced to the empty kitchen of the Black house. "I am not currently in love with anyone. I was in love with Marsha Lovelace O'Connor before she died, and I am not in love with Nymphadora Tonks." When James decided he was in love with Lily, he'd extolled the virtues of her sparkling green eyes and garnet-red hair, her slender hands and graceful height. Well, Tonks certainly wasn't graceful, Remus thought with a tiny snort of laughter. As to sparkling eyes and red hair . . . well, no one knew what Tonks really looked like, now did they? She was pretty, she was, but it was probably manufactured.
"Although," Remus muttered, "I'm willing to bet she is pretty to begin with." He hated the word "pretty." It was a silly word. "Attractive," he decided. Well, she was attractive anyway, with her friendliness and sunny spirit. Not bubbly, just . . . lively. Sprightly.
Marsha had been like that. She was as unlike the beautiful Lily as could be, except for the red hair. And Marsha's hair was bright red-gold, whereas Lily's was closer to auburn. Marsha was diminutive, fiercely loyal, ever so slightly plump, ready to smile, rosy, and wore her hair quite short. She never wore makeup and she never backed down from anything. Her feisty spirit was like Lily's too, and sometimes they could have passed for sisters, but next to the future Mrs. Potter, she had always resembled a dandelion next to . . . well, a lily.
Remus scowled at his cooling tea and went for another cup. It was five o'clock in the morning and he was fairly sure he was the only one up. There were a couple of early risers in the house, like himself, and sometimes Sirius, and Tonks and Mad-Eye if they ever spent the night. As for Tonks . . . well, she was appealing. There was no other word. He liked her a great deal. He poured his tea: Earl Grey with lemon. "I don't even call her by her first name," he noted aloud. He said it, trying it out. "Nymphadora." It was nice. Tonks wasn't. The surname suited her better.
He returned to the table, stopping on his way to let Kreacher meander past. Kreacher was mumbling something about blood traitors again. Remus ignored him. The werewolf and the house-elf had discovered that the best way to coexist was to fail to notice one another.
Remus returned to the table and his cup of tea. He continued to muse. Tonks was too young, and he hadn't had much interest in romance since Marsha and their daughter had been killed. He would never forget that, would never manage to cleanse his dreams of that image. The Dark Mark floated over the flats where they lived, making everything glow sickly green, and the residents were all counting their children. Remus had run upstairs to the top floor, horrified, sick with dread, and found the door open. Marsha was lying on the kitchen linoleum, eyes open, a fitting testament to what happened when you were a friend of Lord Voldemort's enemies. Remus had been the only one left of the quartet, and it seemed they'd chosen this way to destroy him. And if Remus ever, ever found out what loyal Death Eater had taken Marsha as his last act for his master, Remus would see to it that the loyal Death Eater paid.
Losing Marsha had been dreadful enough, but with her had gone Remus's hopes for the unborn daughter, Ellie. They had agreed on the name early: Aubrey for a boy, Ellen for a girl. Ellen was Greek. It meant "light."
Remus heard voices and looked up as Sirius entered, followed by none other than Tonks. Remus saw with a faint stab of pain that she was a redhead today. They carried an enormous canvas sack between them. Both were laughing. "The one thing I never thought he'd bring in," said Tonks.
"Well, the pink dragon egg was really strange," Sirius pointed out.
"Maybe they aren't safe to eat," Tonks commented.
Sirius chuckled. "Live a little."
"What is it?" asked Remus, as they heaved the bag onto the table.
"Twenty pounds of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," Tonks announced. "Dung brought them here. No clue why he had them."
"We thought it better not to ask," Sirius put in.
"We asked anyway," Tonks added, "but he wouldn't tell us. He just said we had to eat them all so they wouldn't be traced." She untied the knot at the top of the bag and fished out a bean, which she bit in half. "Peppermint," she announced, and handed the other half to Sirius. Every Flavor beans were made large, so they could be shared.
Sirius ate the peppermint bean and bit half off his own. "Salisbury steak," he said, and gave Remus the other half. The bean-eating began in earnest.
"The kids'll be thrilled," said Tonks as Sirius handed her half of a raisin-flavored bean.
"Hmm . . . artichoke," said Remus. "Molly won't be. She'll say we're all ruining our appetites," he said. Tonks nodded. Everyone was fond of sweet, blustery Molly Weasley, but her maternal instincts could grow wearing.
"These'll vanish," Sirius predicted. "Bread and butter, that's strange. After the Weasley invasion this is only a few days' supply."
They were all silent for a while, except to name flavors such as coffee, fudge cake, Brussels sprouts, garlic, dirt, Merlot, orange marmalade, and cat food. "What's this?" asked Tonks, passing half a bean to Remus.
He chewed reflectively, then shivered. "I hate to tell you this, I really do, but I'm fairly certain that was raw meat."
"Ick," Tonks said happily. "Not going to ask."
Remus smiled at her, and she smiled back. Sirius coughed slightly. Tonks flicked a lemon-flavored bean at him. Remus felt a moment's sadness as he recalled a scene just like this, shortly after their graduation. An odd conversation involving a tuna-flavored bean, James and Sirius and Peter and Lily and Marsha all gathered together. They'd been younger and their bean supply more limited, but it had been a very similar day.
An Every Flavor Bean bounced off his forehead. "Still with us?" asked Sirius.
"No," said Remus, with a peculiar, sad smile. "I was thinking about Marsha."
Sirius looked uncertain. Tonks just looked curious. Remus chose to address her. "Marsha was my fiancee when I got out of school," he explained. "I think you met her once, but you wouldn't have remembered her." God, she was young. He was fifteen years her senior. Sirius used to babysit for her. "She was killed shortly after the Potters died."
Tonks was unusually quiet. Sirius stopped looking uncertain and started looking really uncomfortable. He had been the only one who knew about Marsha until now, and couldn't imagine why Remus would bring it up. Normally, he kept his personal life locked away so ruthlessly it rarely saw the light of day. "I'm sorry," she said pensively. "Does this mean I shouldn't flirt with you anymore?"
Sirius stifled a laugh, and Remus was startled into a smile. "No," he said without thinking. "I don't mind. In fact, I enjoy it."
Sirius left the room hastily. "Oh, stop it," Remus said to his retreating back.
He and Tonks were left sitting at the table, carefully not looking at one another. "I'm sorry," said Remus after a bit. "I don't usually talk about myself."
"I've noticed," said Tonks with spirit. "It's impossible to get a straight answer out of you. I sleep down the hall from you half the time and I don't know the first thing about you."
Remus looked shyly at her. "We could remedy that, if you liked," he said softly.
Tonks smiled. "I'd like that very much," she said.
And they looked away from each other again, as embarassed as two teenagers.
Terminus Quod Orsa
Every Flavor
"And I know I was wrong when I said it was true That it couldn't be me and be her in between without you."
--- The Cure
Remus was quite sure that Tonks meant well. She was a nice enough girl. Pretty, too. And young – too young for him . . .
He glared at his tea. He didn't want to drink it.
"I am not in love with her," he announced to the empty kitchen of the Black house. "I am not currently in love with anyone. I was in love with Marsha Lovelace O'Connor before she died, and I am not in love with Nymphadora Tonks." When James decided he was in love with Lily, he'd extolled the virtues of her sparkling green eyes and garnet-red hair, her slender hands and graceful height. Well, Tonks certainly wasn't graceful, Remus thought with a tiny snort of laughter. As to sparkling eyes and red hair . . . well, no one knew what Tonks really looked like, now did they? She was pretty, she was, but it was probably manufactured.
"Although," Remus muttered, "I'm willing to bet she is pretty to begin with." He hated the word "pretty." It was a silly word. "Attractive," he decided. Well, she was attractive anyway, with her friendliness and sunny spirit. Not bubbly, just . . . lively. Sprightly.
Marsha had been like that. She was as unlike the beautiful Lily as could be, except for the red hair. And Marsha's hair was bright red-gold, whereas Lily's was closer to auburn. Marsha was diminutive, fiercely loyal, ever so slightly plump, ready to smile, rosy, and wore her hair quite short. She never wore makeup and she never backed down from anything. Her feisty spirit was like Lily's too, and sometimes they could have passed for sisters, but next to the future Mrs. Potter, she had always resembled a dandelion next to . . . well, a lily.
Remus scowled at his cooling tea and went for another cup. It was five o'clock in the morning and he was fairly sure he was the only one up. There were a couple of early risers in the house, like himself, and sometimes Sirius, and Tonks and Mad-Eye if they ever spent the night. As for Tonks . . . well, she was appealing. There was no other word. He liked her a great deal. He poured his tea: Earl Grey with lemon. "I don't even call her by her first name," he noted aloud. He said it, trying it out. "Nymphadora." It was nice. Tonks wasn't. The surname suited her better.
He returned to the table, stopping on his way to let Kreacher meander past. Kreacher was mumbling something about blood traitors again. Remus ignored him. The werewolf and the house-elf had discovered that the best way to coexist was to fail to notice one another.
Remus returned to the table and his cup of tea. He continued to muse. Tonks was too young, and he hadn't had much interest in romance since Marsha and their daughter had been killed. He would never forget that, would never manage to cleanse his dreams of that image. The Dark Mark floated over the flats where they lived, making everything glow sickly green, and the residents were all counting their children. Remus had run upstairs to the top floor, horrified, sick with dread, and found the door open. Marsha was lying on the kitchen linoleum, eyes open, a fitting testament to what happened when you were a friend of Lord Voldemort's enemies. Remus had been the only one left of the quartet, and it seemed they'd chosen this way to destroy him. And if Remus ever, ever found out what loyal Death Eater had taken Marsha as his last act for his master, Remus would see to it that the loyal Death Eater paid.
Losing Marsha had been dreadful enough, but with her had gone Remus's hopes for the unborn daughter, Ellie. They had agreed on the name early: Aubrey for a boy, Ellen for a girl. Ellen was Greek. It meant "light."
Remus heard voices and looked up as Sirius entered, followed by none other than Tonks. Remus saw with a faint stab of pain that she was a redhead today. They carried an enormous canvas sack between them. Both were laughing. "The one thing I never thought he'd bring in," said Tonks.
"Well, the pink dragon egg was really strange," Sirius pointed out.
"Maybe they aren't safe to eat," Tonks commented.
Sirius chuckled. "Live a little."
"What is it?" asked Remus, as they heaved the bag onto the table.
"Twenty pounds of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," Tonks announced. "Dung brought them here. No clue why he had them."
"We thought it better not to ask," Sirius put in.
"We asked anyway," Tonks added, "but he wouldn't tell us. He just said we had to eat them all so they wouldn't be traced." She untied the knot at the top of the bag and fished out a bean, which she bit in half. "Peppermint," she announced, and handed the other half to Sirius. Every Flavor beans were made large, so they could be shared.
Sirius ate the peppermint bean and bit half off his own. "Salisbury steak," he said, and gave Remus the other half. The bean-eating began in earnest.
"The kids'll be thrilled," said Tonks as Sirius handed her half of a raisin-flavored bean.
"Hmm . . . artichoke," said Remus. "Molly won't be. She'll say we're all ruining our appetites," he said. Tonks nodded. Everyone was fond of sweet, blustery Molly Weasley, but her maternal instincts could grow wearing.
"These'll vanish," Sirius predicted. "Bread and butter, that's strange. After the Weasley invasion this is only a few days' supply."
They were all silent for a while, except to name flavors such as coffee, fudge cake, Brussels sprouts, garlic, dirt, Merlot, orange marmalade, and cat food. "What's this?" asked Tonks, passing half a bean to Remus.
He chewed reflectively, then shivered. "I hate to tell you this, I really do, but I'm fairly certain that was raw meat."
"Ick," Tonks said happily. "Not going to ask."
Remus smiled at her, and she smiled back. Sirius coughed slightly. Tonks flicked a lemon-flavored bean at him. Remus felt a moment's sadness as he recalled a scene just like this, shortly after their graduation. An odd conversation involving a tuna-flavored bean, James and Sirius and Peter and Lily and Marsha all gathered together. They'd been younger and their bean supply more limited, but it had been a very similar day.
An Every Flavor Bean bounced off his forehead. "Still with us?" asked Sirius.
"No," said Remus, with a peculiar, sad smile. "I was thinking about Marsha."
Sirius looked uncertain. Tonks just looked curious. Remus chose to address her. "Marsha was my fiancee when I got out of school," he explained. "I think you met her once, but you wouldn't have remembered her." God, she was young. He was fifteen years her senior. Sirius used to babysit for her. "She was killed shortly after the Potters died."
Tonks was unusually quiet. Sirius stopped looking uncertain and started looking really uncomfortable. He had been the only one who knew about Marsha until now, and couldn't imagine why Remus would bring it up. Normally, he kept his personal life locked away so ruthlessly it rarely saw the light of day. "I'm sorry," she said pensively. "Does this mean I shouldn't flirt with you anymore?"
Sirius stifled a laugh, and Remus was startled into a smile. "No," he said without thinking. "I don't mind. In fact, I enjoy it."
Sirius left the room hastily. "Oh, stop it," Remus said to his retreating back.
He and Tonks were left sitting at the table, carefully not looking at one another. "I'm sorry," said Remus after a bit. "I don't usually talk about myself."
"I've noticed," said Tonks with spirit. "It's impossible to get a straight answer out of you. I sleep down the hall from you half the time and I don't know the first thing about you."
Remus looked shyly at her. "We could remedy that, if you liked," he said softly.
Tonks smiled. "I'd like that very much," she said.
And they looked away from each other again, as embarassed as two teenagers.
Terminus Quod Orsa