Tonks' Lament
"Urgh, I feel like such a total bam!" I complain to Molly Weasley -- the only person I hadn't driven insane yet from lamenting on my 'problem.' "Can I even string two words together that aren't 'too right' or 'got'cha' around him? And my hair!" I try to fluff the limp brownish mess. "It's hideous. I'm hideous. No wonder he looks at me like I just crawled out of the rubbish heap. Oh, Molly, it's hopeless. Absolutely hopeless."
"Now, now, dear, nothing is ever hopeless," Molly says, patting my hand in that comforting Mum way she has. "Why don't you have some fudge? Everything always seems better after fudge."
"No thank you," I say, blowing my nose for what must have been the six billionth time that day. "Can't you think of any advice to give me? That would make me feel better than fudge."
Molly bites her lower lip in concentration, thinking. "Well, dear, the best advice I can give is talk to him. Dear Remus is a little – shall we say – oblivious to certain aspects of life. He probably has no idea how you feel."
"How I feel? I've tried talking, I've tried food invites, I've tried everything short of wearing a shirt that says 'Fancy a Shag?' Now I've moved on to the Stupid Silence and Miserable stage. Shouldn't it be obvious enough for him to at least ask what's wrong?"
"Sometimes Remus needs the obvious stated for him," Molly says. "You're a strong girl so now you need to act like it. Tell him. You'll feel better. Trust me."
"Well, I suppose you're right," I say, standing and arranging my messenger bag over my left shoulder. "You have like –what? -- a gazillion kids so motherly advice must come naturally. Thanks, Molly. I'll keep you posted on any Operation Werewolf progress...Or lack thereof."
"Please do, dear," she says, waving as I use the front door instead of Apparating. I feel like walking today. Maybe the fresh air will do me some good.