A/N: So this is my first entry for the "If you Dare" Challenge. The prompt was "Scottish."

Sarah x

Tonks sat down in an isolated café in Inverkeilor; she was with Remus, having been sent by Dumbledore to try and convince one of Sirius' numerous cousins – Ascella Guthrie – and her two children, to join the Order of the Phoenix. From what Sirius told them, thirty years ago, when Ascella Black had just left Hogwarts, she had turned her back on the family and disappeared to a small Scottish town in the east of Scotland. To Sirius' parents' disgust, Ascella had married a Muggle man and settled down to an unprejudiced, loving and simple life.

By all accounts, Ascella's two children had attended Hogwarts at the same time as Tonks had, but Tonks had not known she was sitting next to her cousins to dine in the Great Hall. They had always claimed to be Muggle-born – something their surname helped to authenticate.

Ascella lived in Easthaven, which was further south, but they were using Muggle public transport in the local area, posing as Muggles, to avoid being recognised by any witches and wizards whose loyalties they could not know. Rather than Apparate to Easthaven, they had Apparated into an old alleyway in Aberdeen and were heading south the Muggle way. Needless to say, it was already doing Tonks' head in.

This bus-riding business was hard work, too; Tonks honestly didn't know how Muggles managed to travel like this all day, every day. And since they had not eaten in nearly twelve hours, Remus had suggested they get off here, in a village small enough that there was nobody to notice them. They could pose as tourists, even.

"Don't you find it funny," began Remus thoughtfully as he read the menu, "that we spent most of our adolescence in Scotland and yet we've never had Scottish food or drink?"

Tonks couldn't help but laugh at his observation. It wasn't that he was wrong, because he most certainly wasn't wrong, but it was that he had even thought of it. She never would have. After all, why would she ever have needed to try Scottish Muggle food, when pumpkin pasties, Chocolate Frogs and Butterbeer had got her through her school years? "A bit," she allowed, still grinning. "I mean, Minerva's given me shortbread before, but that's about as far into the pond as I've dipped my toe."

A young waitress – no older than sixteen – came to their table and smiled broadly at them. "Can I get you a drink while you decide what you're having?" she asked, her voice tinged with a Scottish accent, almost like she had been born and England and then moved to Scotland fairly young.

Tonks looked at the menu. Some of the drinks she knew, but one stood out as quite odd, certainly something she had never seen on any English or Welsh café menu. "I'll have an IrnBru, please," Tonks smiled, eyeing Remus daringly. He had, after all, brought up the subject in the first place. "He'll have the same," she grinned, her gaze not leaving Remus at all.

"Feeling adventurous?" he lightly commented, a slight smile playing on his lips as the young waitress left them. He was definitely one for teasing her, though he kept a thoroughly proper air about him when surrounded by the rest of the Order.

"Trust me," snorted Tonks, perusing her menu once more, "if my dad's anything to go by, Muggles are wimps when it comes to food, anyway. It can't be that bad."

Remus looked quite distrustful, and it amused her to no end, until he spoke once again. "You know, my mother went to Scotland as a child. I vaguely remember her telling me about it. Apparently tablet is really quite nice."

Tonks' mouth fell open. Remus never talked of his family, and especially not of his mother. In fact, he never opened up at all, about anything. He seemed to prefer to keep these things to himself, to keep everyone at arms length. As much as she liked Remus – actually, she was fairly sure now that like wasn't the right word – that tendency really got on her nerves sometimes. Did he think her judgemental? Did he fear her reaction? Since she didn't at all care that he was a werewolf, surely he could trust her with other aspects of his life. Or maybe he had forgotten how to trust.

At any rate, Tonks made a point not to make a point of what he had said. She just smiled and said, "Sugar and dairy. My kind of snack."

Remus' mouth twitched once more, and she spotted him nod at a spot behind her – the waitress was returning with two blue and orange cans and two glasses. The girl smiled and placed them in front of Tonks and Remus, who promptly opened the cans and poured them into the glasses.

"Can I take your order?" asked the waitress.

Tonks scanned the menu and decided, "I'll have the full Scottish breakfast, please, since it's too early for lunch." Only after she said this did she read the contents of the meal, and she began to try and work out if all that would actually fit in her stomach. On the other hand, she thought she would much rather change Ascella's mind on a full stomach. Ascella, unfortunately, was still descended from the Blacks, and was therefore formidable only because of her formidable genetics. Tonks often wondered that if she wasn't such a hopeless klutz, she might have the same problem.

"I'll have the same, thank you," Remus added, though of his own accord this time. The waitress smiled gently and walked cheerfully (how could people walk cheerfully?) away back to the kitchen.

Grinning, Tonks raised her glass and toasted, "To broadened horizons." Remus echoed her and tapped her glass with his, drinking deeply.

Tonks did the same, but she had to fight not to gag. Her mouth was filled with a sickly sweet, almost flowery flavour, and it was all she could do not to spit the disgusting liquid out. It could easily have been some awful concoction that Fred and George Weasley would have found amusing to feed her. Harmless, but not particularly appetising.

"That," she choked, "is disgusting."

"I quite like it," Remus lightly commented. "It's warming."

Tonks snorted, aware of how unladylike she sounded, and pushed the glass towards him. "You have mine, then," she told him darkly, wiping her mouth on a napkin. Remus stared at her for a moment, like he couldn't believe what she was telling him to do. "I don't have cooties, you know."

"Would you drink after me?" he retorted grimly.

"Why wouldn't I?" was Tonks' only reply – it was the only answer she believed was rational.

"Um, I hate to break it to you, Nymphadora, but I happen to be a werewolf," Remus sarcastically reminded her, whispering that last word so that the Muggle staff and customers around could not hear him. The last thing they needed was for a whole load of Muggles to hear the word werewolf and run out the building panicking.

"And if I drink after you, will I become a werewolf?" Tonks stubbornly demanded.

"No, but-"

"Then why shouldn't I drink after you?" Remus was quite obviously stunned. Lost for words. Tonks took the opportunity his astounded silence to continue firmly, "I'm not an idiot, Remus. I know it doesn't work like that. So, please, stop insulting my intelligence by assuming that I uphold every daft prejudice and misconception that every other bloody moron is stupid enough to believe!" she ranted at him.

It didn't take Remus long to regain his words. "Are you quite finished?" he coolly asked her, pulling her glass towards him.

"No," she snapped. "Don't bloody call me Nymphadora!"

Tonks held Remus' stare, wondering whether or not she had pissed him off. Sometimes it was difficult to tell with him. However, he looked down and smiled at the table, and she was relieved to hear a low but heartfelt laugh escape him. He ran his hand over his face, still chuckling; Tonks laughed quietly too, for she knew all too well that it was very challenging to force a real smile, a real laugh, out of Remus Lupin these days.

"If I drink this," Remus began, tapping Tonks' glass. He hesitated before proceeding. It was only once he had said it that she realised why he had hesitated. "Well...is your clumsy disposition contagious?"

Tonks gasped, half-feigning deep insult, half-amazed by his wise-crack, and kicked him in the shin under the table. Instantly, she winced, realising that she had kicked him with far more force than she had intended. Just once example of that bad coordination to which Remus had just alluded – it was so annoying to prove him right.

"Ow!" he exclaimed loudly in surprise and pain. A few of the surrounding Muggles looked over at them, causing Remus to shrink back in his chair. "That was sore!" he hissed.

Smugly, Tonks told him, "Good. It was supposed to be."

In their carry on, Tonks had almost allowed herself to forget why they were here, why they were travelling this area together. Being around Remus made her feel lighter, less anxious and much happier. She couldn't even begin to explain it, but she was sure she wanted to, either. An explanation might ruin it.

They talked quietly for a few minutes more, still joking between themselves, until the waitress returned with two plates in her hands, and said, "Two Scottish breakfasts," before leaving them again.

Tonks stared down at the plate. Eggs, bacon, tomato, sausages, baked beans, black pudding, toast, and three things she didn't recognise. She read the menu again and said aloud, pointing to the most likely suspects, "Lorne sausage, haggis, tattie scones." It smelled good. Very good. However, she was doubtful she was capable of eating it all. Nevertheless, she dug in, resolving to give whatever she couldn't eat to Remus, who usually needed all the sustenance he could get.

For a moment, she watched him eat, ever so politely, and wondered how long it would take for him to see she wasn't like anyone else. He finished one glass of IrnBru and moved onto hers, to which she innocently quipped, "Mind you don't catch my clumsiness."

Remus looked up, staring at her over the rim of the glass, and gave her a jokingly snappy order: "Just shut up and eat."

Please feel free to leave a review with your opinions!
Sarah x