Word Count: 1070
"Why would you do that?" Charlie asks, his nose wrinkling in clear disgust. "Why would you go and ruin a perfectly good cup of tea like that?"
Tonks rolls her eyes. Sure, the tea is a little more milky than most people would like, but she wouldn't consider it ruined. With a sniff, she points an accusing finger at his own cup. Coffee, black (like his soul, they would always joke) and bitter (like her personality). "I can't believe you would come at me, accusing me of ruining tea, when you drink that monstrosity."
One thing she likes about Charlie is that he is so unabashed. He just grins at her and lifts his cup to his lips, taking a sip and letting out a satisfied sigh. For dramatic emphasis, he licks his lips. A bit of coffee drops onto his burgundy jumper, but he doesn't seem to notice.
Tonks notices. Of course she notices. Like it or not, she always notices everything about Charlie.
It's frustrating, really. Here they are, together at Madam Puddifoot's. Around them, couples laugh and smile and fall a little more in love with every sip they take.
But her. Not Charlie.
They might look like a happy couple, and maybe Tonks wouldn't mind becoming one, but she knows Charlie doesn't feel the same way. On one hand, it hurts. On the other, she is so glad to be his friend. He has gotten her through so many rough times, and she doesn't know what she would do without him.
"Tonks? Hey. Earth to Tonks." Charlie waves his hand in front of her face.
Tonks blinks and shakes her head, bringing herself back to the present. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I was talking about the next match," he says. "You know. The one where Gryffindor is going to slaughter Hufflepuff."
She snorts. "Don't get cocky, Mr. I Have Peach Fuzz, and I Can't Even Grow It," she teases.
It's so easy with Charlie. So many others would get offended, but he sees the humor in her abrasive ways. It really isn't fair. Tonks is certain no one else will understand her the way he does.
But she won't think about that. It's pointless, and it will get her nowhere. All that will happen is she will get so lost in a fantasy, and she will break her own heart.
"It's a low blow to insult a man's facial hair," he says, his voice saturated with faux offense. He brushes his fingers over the wisps of hair on his chin, so scarce and fine that they're barely visible at all. "I'm working hard on this."
"Please don't," she counters. "Just shave it. I'm begging you."
The waitress appears with their food- an apple cinnamon muffin for Charlie, and a chocolate croissant for Tonks. "You two are so cute," she says, smiling, and Tonks can detect a hint of jealousy in her voice. Her eyes linger a little too long on Charlie, and Tonks wants to laugh. "How long have you been together?"
"We're just friends," Charlie says, and he is so oblivious to the way the waitress looks at him.
The words don't hurt. Tonks remembers a time when they stung a little, when Charlie didn't blush or stammer, and it killed her to know it was because he didn't feel the same way about her.
The waitress offers a too-sweet smile at that. "Shame. You're quite the cutie," she says.
Charlie just nods. Tonks presses her lips into a hard, thin line, trying so desperately not to laugh at the look of disappointment on the young woman's face.
"Can I get another tea?" Tonks asks. "Ooh. No. Coffee. Something caramel. Extra whipped cream, please."
The waitress collects the empty teacup and walks away. Once she's gone, Tonks lets out a wheezing laugh.
"What?" Charlie looks up, head tipping to the side in confusion.
"She was flirting with you, you idiot," Tonks says. "Poor girl is probably back there, crying her eyes out."
Honestly, it's exactly why Tonks doesn't take his rejection personally. She isn't sure that Charlie actually likes anyone beyond a platonic way. He's always so oblivious to other people's advances, and he never talks about some lucky lad or lass who has caught his eye. Maybe that's just who he is. Tonks doesn't mind, really. He's still an amazing bloke.
"Why would she flirt with me?"
"Blimey, Char." Tonks shakes her head, biting into her croissant. "Some of us have eyes. It isn't exactly a secret that you're easy on the eyes."
"Am I?" He takes a bite of his muffin, dropping a sprinkling of crumbs on the burgundy jumper.
She likes that he is actually modest, that it isn't an act just for laughs. Charlie is honestly that oblivious.
"Yes. I mean, funny peach fuzz aside," she says.
"Wow. Do you… You don't fancy me, do you?"
The question catches her off guard. She knows he isn't fishing for a confession. This won't be like one of those silly romance novels Olympia Sinclaire brings from home. She won't admit her feelings and lead him to realize he's loved her from the start. She's okay with that.
"A bit," she says, shrugging. "I know it isn't mutual. I don't care. You're still my best mate, and I would rather have that than a boyfriend."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
She rolls her eyes. Sometimes it amazes her that he can reach brand new levels of obliviousness. Does he not realize that such confessions can be stressful?
"There didn't seem to be a point," she answers, finishing off her croissant in a quick bite. "Besides, I didn't want to make it weird."
"Well, we're already pretty weird," he points out. "Pretty sure it doesn't get any weirder than us."
The waitress brings Tonks' coffee. Tonks pays for her half, and Charlie does the same for his. The woman doesn't linger too long this time.
Charlie stares at Tonks' coffee, frowning. "Coffee should be enjoyed in its purest form," he says.
Tonks just grins, flicking her tongue over the mound of whipped cream. "Coffee should be enjoyed however the hell the drinker wants to enjoy it."
And they fall back into their normal routine like nothing has happened. It's a beautiful sort of simplicity, and she adores Charlie for it.
He's the best friend a girl could ever have, and that is more than enough.
