"There is nothing extraordinary about the month of March," Lupin said firmly. "It's a miserable, boring month that never gets quite warm enough to enjoy."
"But it's so fun," Tonks protested. "Every year for Saint Patrick's Day my mum grows clovers all over the house, and I get to turn my hair green." She squeezed her eyes shut and did just that, grinning. "It's not quite my color, but that's the spirit, hm?"
"Aside from large amounts of green things, what happens on Saint Patrick's Day? Last year I got attacked by a pack of drunk leprechauns because Kingsley made an extremely ill-timed joke and I laughed."
"Well…" She chewed on her lip, thinking. "Days get longer in March. Death Eaters like the dark, so ergo there is less Dark activity in March. Don't laugh at me!" she said, affronted, as Lupin shook his head with a chuckle. "I'm serious!"
"I know you are." That's why I'm laughing. Out of concern for his safety, he decided not to mention that last bit.
"Plus, it's your birthday in March! Come on, birthdays are fun!" She bounced the bed a little bit, which made putting on his shoes incredibly difficult. Still, he tried for a moment, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like "fourteen years."
Tonks stopped bouncing.
"You're bloody kidding me," she whispered. "Remus! Are you telling me that your hatred of the month March is based solely on the fact that, for sixty-two days, three hours and five minutes, you're fourteen years older than I am?"
"No, of course not," he blustered. "That's silly."
Laughing, Tonks slung her arms around his neck from behind and rested her chin on his shoulders. "Well, you silly, silly man, allow me to prove to you that there are much more important and enjoyable things to be thinking of on your birthday than numbers."
Lupin sighed with mock-regret. "But Dora, I just got dressed," he whined.
"You'll get over it."