Set during Order of the Phoenix. This is not a love triangle. It's a triangle about love.

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She can't help but feel left out. When Mad-Eye told her that Sirius was innocent and in London, the first thing Tonks thought was that she'd get to hear his laugh again. It's not a pleasant laugh- it's rough and scornful-sounding, but she loved it as a child. Part of her- a part as treacherous as she believed Sirius to have been- loved his laugh even when he went to prison. As an eight-year-old it had been difficult to learn that even when you were supposed to hate someone, wanted to hate them, love would fight through. Love could not be turned off like a tap. The things which Tonks had tried not to love about him anymore- his laugh and his motorbike, his way of winding Mum up and the way he smelt of cigarette smoke- haunted her for fourteen years.

And then suddenly she was allowed to love him again. Suddenly, the last fourteen years were a lie. He was innocent after all and she could see him again soon. (If Mad-Eye had known her less well than he does, Tonks supposes that springing the Sirius-is-innocent bombshell on her in the same conversation he asked her to join the Order could have been manipulative. But the grumpy old bastard knew she'd say yes to the Order, and he wouldn't need to bribe her). Seeing him again had been insane and incredible and very, very weird. And then Remus Lupin had turned up. Which, Tonks supposes, seems to have become a theme around here.

He's a decent bloke, she'll give him that. For a werewolf, he's an inexplicably decent bloke. The werewolf thing still freaks her out, and Tonks gets annoyed at how pointedly everybody ignores the fact that he's a monster. Come on, people, she wants to shout, Address the elephant in the room! We're all obviously thinking it! Perhaps Kingsley and everyone reckon that by not mentioning it, they won't have to think about it. But Tonks finds it difficult not to think about. He turns into a dangerous creature every few weeks for goodness sake.

Anyway, if Tonks manages to compartmentalise the werewolf thing, Remus seems alright. He's friendly and he isn't all "During the last War we did this, bla bla bla" like some of the others are. He always says hello to everybody and he often asks her about work, even though he probably doesn't actually care. He's polite like that (Mum would love him, Tonks notes). And all this miraculous niceness gives Tonks more guilt about how much she resents him and the hold he has over Sirius. They're together most of the time, and if they aren't then Sirius will be glancing around for him, or saying, "Remus says this", "Lupin told me that", "Moony says it's a good idea". Moony and Padfoot are their nicknames for each other, invented at school when they slept in neighbouring beds. They don't share a room now but Remus stays over at Grimmauld almost every night. He occasionally mentions that he has a cottage to himself, though he spends most of his time here, partly for Order purposes and mostly for Sirius purposes. "Moony" keeps Sirius company when he's down, playing endless games of chess, reminiscing over past adventures, or winding each other up. They both come alive when they're together, and Tonks feels sad that Sirius never looks that alive when he's with her. When she was little, his presence was thrilling and unpredictable. He could light up a room- not with a smile but with a smirk, a toss of his long dark hair or a snarky whisper when Mum wasn't listening. Tonks was always in a strop about something as a kid, but the promise of Sirius coming round later (although more often than not he'd turn up unannounced) made whatever she was cross about disappear. Now he's bitter and traumatised and Tonks feels useless that she can't make him happy like he used to make her. It's "Moony" who makes him happy. Their nicknames and their reminisces speak of a special club, a shorthand, a shared history, an understanding, which Tonks is left out of. She knows it sounds selfish and petty, but she loved Sirius and she wanted him back- she even wants this twisted, surly, house-arrested Sirius. She wants to help him, but because Remus is here she's superfluous to requirements.

After the first Order meeting Tonks went to, Sirius mentioned flippantly that he and Remus were lovers for a time. His exact wording was probably more crass than that, actually (one things Tonks tried and failed to forget about him when he was in prison, was that Mum always told him off for swearing). She isn't sure if they're back together now- it would certainly explain why Remus stays over here so often. If they are shagging she is definitely their third wheel, and the fact that neither of them have confirmed it makes her feel even more left out.

Remus is also the only person Sirius deigns to listen to. If "Moony" tells him to shut up or stop moaning or "For goodness sake, keep your voice down," Sirius grumbles but eventually obeys. But Remus is also Sirius partner-in-crime; they joke together and snigger over the same jokes, and they get pissed together on the Black's expensive wine. She's noticed that Remus is a very, very good friend. And Tonks supposes that she isn't Sirius' friend- for all his pride at her being an Auror, he still probably sees her as a child. He knew Remus longer before he went to prison, too. Tonks has no claim on Sirius just because they're related. When your mother eloped with your dad to escape one of the most ancient and prestigious pure-blood families, you grow up convinced of the unimportance of blood. If blood's so important, how come Dad's got a better job than half the pure-blood kids he went to school with? If blood's so important, why hasn't Mum seen her blood sisters since 1971? But Tonks finds that she feels like that her blood relationship to Sirius means that she's owed a connection with him. It's only fair, isn't it, considering that she hasn't got any other family on Mum's side? Sirius hasn't got any family either, although Tonks supposes that he counts Remus as a brother. It's a question of what's thickest, isn't it? Blood or water. She always though she knew the answer, but Sirius' reappearance has made her question that. Perhaps one day, Tonks reckons, as she as she stands in the kitchen listening to Sirius and "Moony" talking in the drawing room next-door, she could barge in there, sit down next to them and force herself into their friendship. Perhaps it isn't just blood or water, she thinks, noticing the sound of liquid being poured into a goblet. Perhaps its blood, water or wine.


He can't help but feel left out. After twelve years, Remus' best friend was returned to him, only for Remus to turn into a werewolf and Sirius to be forced on the run again barely half an hour later. Remus didn't see Padfoot for another year after that. It took a boy to die and Voldemort to return for Remus to be properly reunited with Padfoot. Only now, they're reunited at dusty, dreary Grimmauld Place, the setting for Sirius' miserable childhood. That, and the fact that twelve years in Azkaban have made Remus' old friend embittered and unstable, means that it's a surly, mopey Padfoot whom Remus lives with nowadays. That sets Remus on edge, too. When Padfoot was in prison, sometimes Remus would dream of seeing him again, and it would be a joyful, celebratory reunion. When he woke up, guilt would creep down his spine and he's be frustrated at himself for dreaming about the traitor like that. Now it's turned out that Sirius was innocent all along, and Remus can be with him again, their reunion is more tense and dissatisfying than he imagined. But sometimes, in the evening after a bottle of wine or two, the past fourteen years of betrayal and heartache fade away. They're just two young friends again, the Marauders putting the world to rights. They'd got smashed together the first night Remus stayed at Grimmauld. Padfoot brought out a shelf-ful of wine from the cellar- he and Remus started pouring it into glasses but ended up drinking from the bottle. They talked, and laughed, and Padfoot had got slightly teary, and when Remus staggered off to bed at some point after three AM, Sirius held him tight and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. For a split-second Remus thought that Sirius was going to kiss him on the lips. He didn't know if he wanted him to, and he didn't know how he'd react. But Sirius simply whispered, "Goodnight," and let him go.

Since then they've had a few drunken nights like that, which is cathartic for them both. In recent weeks, though, the piss-ups have ground to a halt. Nymphadora Tonks has ousted Remus from his position as Sirius confidante. She'd been around for a while beforehand, and Sirius was thrilled to have her back in his life. Tonks' Mum is Andy Black, Padfoot's cousin who ran away to marry a Muggle-born. She was Sirius' hero when they were teenagers, and he's beside himself that Andy ("No-one calls her that anymore," Tonks told them) has a daughter, whose grown up to become an Auror and join the Order of the Phoenix. The last time they met, Sirius has explained, Remus about a thousand times, Tonks was an eight-year-old.

"And now look!" he told Remus excitedly, flinging his arm around Tonks' shoulders, "She's the youngest person to get into Auror training in seven years,"

Remus wasn't sure what he was meant to say to that: Congratulations, random pink-haired woman. I, a random old man whose opinions you have no need to care about, agree that you have done very well. He'd mumbled incoherently and half-smiled, half-grimaced at Tonks. She grinned back, and Remus couldn't tell if she was in on his confusion, unaware of it, or mocking him. It was awkward, but that was all, and Remus didn't mind it, didn't mind her, until a few weeks ago she invited herself in when he and Padfoot were drinking together. Drunk Sirius was even more all over her than usual, one arm a hooked round her waist and the other tilting her chin up while he told her over and over how much he'd missed her, how much he loved her. Remus had sat awkwardly in the corner, feeling as if he was intruding on something private. But it was her who'd intruded. Over the preceding few weeks they'd made the usual cracks about the Black family, but that night the floodgates opened for Sirius. He told her stories about his childhood, his parents and his brother that he'd never told Remus. He rambled self-indulgently about how difficult it was to be a Black- the reputation, the wariness people had around them.

Abruptly, he realised, "I suppose that was worse for you when I went to Azkaban. Merlin's beard, how did you live with that?"

"It wasn't your fault," said Tonks consolingly, stroking the back of his hand.

"Of course it wasn't," Padfoot snarled. Then his hands were on either side of her face and his thumbs were brushing tears of her cheeks, tears which weren't there, "I'm so sorry".

Since then, she's been Sirius' number one confidante and his new favourite person to stay up with drinking through his parents' wine cellar with. Sometimes Remus stays with them, though sometimes he can't face them being so dramatically Black together, so he usually goes up to his bedroom at Grimmauld (it used to be Sirius' mother's dressing room and nobody is sure why it was left with a bed in it), or home to his cottage. He tries to spend one night a week back there to keep an eye on the place. Over the Summer, Padfoot would get mopey and clingy when Remus left him at Grimmauld. Now he's got Tonks, however, he isn't as fussed. The circumstances of Remus' life mean that he's always had a lot to be envious of, though he's always tried to suppress that jealousy- this is his lot in life so he should make the best of it, and there are people with far harder lives than he has. Remus has lived his life with this philosophy. But he can't help but be jealous about Sirius and Tonks. The strange part is that he finds that, actually, none of it is making him dislike Tonks as a person. She makes him laugh, and underneath all her hairstyles and brashness, she's kind and diligent and interesting. Remus likes hearing what she has to say about the world. But if he thinks too hard on how much he likes her, then he realises that he's blaming Sirius for replacing him with Tonks. That isn't fair. None of this is Sirius' fault. He needs Remus to be empathetic and adaptable, not petty and jealous. Besides, Remus isn't a teenager anymore- he should be able to overlook Sirius' fickleness, and he should definitely understand that there's more important things in life than staying on Sirius Black's good side. Besides, when they were the Marauders, there was JamesandSirius, and Remus was their spare part. And now it's Sirius and Tonks, and Remus is still their spare part. His own position hasn't changed, so he's got nothing to complain about.

But, Remus sighs, kneading his forehead with his knuckles, absolutely everything else in the world has changed, and will keep changing. And that makes it all so much more complicated.


He can't help but feel left out. Sirius is intentionally leaving himself out, although he still feels strangely lonely when he watches the two of them together. Enough to make him consider if his attempt to set Moony and Nymphadora up with each other is such a good idea after all. But Sirius is so bored trapped here at Grimmauld that he may as well try to create some drama. And moreover, he reckons that they might be perfect for each other. Remus needs someone fun- he always did, and even more so now he's got old and grey and professorial. He needs someone to challenge him and jolt him out of all the ways and beliefs he gets himself stuck in. Remus has needed that since he was eleven years old. As for Nymphadora, well, Sirius is sure that she'd be bored to death dating someone whose her own age and has the same interests and ideas and expectations. He's tried to wheedle confirmation of this out of her a few times and though she never states "My exes are all too tedious for me," that's what Sirius has chosen to infer. It's how he felt at twenty-one, anyway. She likes to believe that she is outrageous, and so she'll be outraged herself by Remus and how different he is to everybody else she's ever gone out with. Remus will drive her up the wall, which is a good thing because it's usually Tonks who drives people up the wall.

They're falling for each other and they know it, too. Azkaban robbed Sirius of many things, but not his understanding of attraction. Fourteen years, and he still hasn't forgotten how women would eye him when they were interested in him. The repeated quick glances, the slight smirk, the indecision about where to place hands (in pockets, on the tabletop, folded, clasped, in pockets again). Nymphadora is fidgety at the best of times so she can barely sit still in front of Remus these days. She drops stuff or bumps into doors or knocks crockery over more in front of Moony, too. She gets flustered, and then Remus tries to help, and Nymphadora blushes further, and Sirius laughs himself into stitches, and his cousin glares daggers.

It's been much more than fourteen years, but Sirius still remembers the way Remus used to look at him- baffled and slightly stunned that he was experiencing attraction. Grinning to himself then wiping the grin away quickly. Concentrating in turn at everybody else in the conversation in a deliberate effort not to look like he was focussing on one person. For a few months when they were teenagers, Sirius was on the receiving end of all that adorable awkwardness. The fact that Moony's affections have been transferred to Nymphadora is therefore bizarre. It's also hilarious- something else prison couldn't take away from Sirius is his pleasure in winding people up. And they are both so easy to wind up. When Moony's eyes, performing their careful journey around everybody in the room, meet Sirius', Sirius cocks an eyebrow. Remus knows him well enough to infer what the gesture means, and he frowns back. If Sirius is alone with Tonks, he'll sometimes glance at the door and say, "Oh, hello, Remus," and enjoy the way his cousin startles, and the way she growls at him when she realises that Moony isn't there.

Taunting both of them is fun, but Remus is too much of a wimp to make the first move, and Nymphadora goes uncharacteristically embarrassed whenever Sirius tries to persuade her to ask Moony out. She insists that she isn't sure if Remus likes her back, and she won't be persuaded when Sirius insists that obviously he does. So, Sirius is trying to negotiate a circumstance in which one of them might finally crack and admit that they fancy the other. He knows that the two of them hang out on the back porch sometimes, and of course they go out on Order work together- but what they really need is a night in, preferably involving alcohol. Alcohol is the solution to most complications of the heart. Contrary to what Molly Weasley insists, Sirius doesn't have a drinking problem- whenever he gets drunk, it's with somebody. Kingsley on occasion, or Arthur Weasley when Molly lets him out from under her thumb. Mostly though, it's Remus. Well, it was at first, and then Tonks turned up and Sirius realised that she understood, at least a little, about their family, and that she wasn't a child anymore and she could stay up with him and get smashed and he could tell her stuff that people who didn't share their poisonous Black blood wouldn't understand. He could tell her he was sorry, too, for disappearing. Remus would sometimes be there then, and he'd sulk in the corner, or Tonks would look bored when Sirius and Moony started reminiscing about school. That was what gave Sirius the idea to start sidling away when the three of them are in the drawing room with a bottle of wine. He'll say that Buckbeak needs feeding, or that he's fetching a book or heirloom that he found upstairs and wants to show them. He'll leave the room, walk halfway upstairs, then sneak back down to listen at the keyhole. Usually at first there's an uncomfortable silence, and then Nymphadora will ask Remus something, and Moony will reply, and they'll start chatting. Often, they make each other laugh, and frequently one of them will say something, to which the other will reply, "Really?" or, "I've never thought about it like that before," or, "How on Earth do you know that?". They're fascinated by each other, and everybody knows that "fascinated" is synonym of "turned on". Sirius smirks to himself as he listens to them chat- and then a slither of loneliness creeps up his spine. He's feels left out, though he's the one whose let himself out. He question whether he actually wants them to get together after all. What if there comes a time when it's always like this- the two of them together and him on the outside?

He leaves them for five or ten minutes, then lets himself back in and asks innocently what they've been talking about. One of them, probably Moony, will give him a suspicious look, but neither of them have let on if they've guessed what he's up to. Sometimes Sirius questions what he's up to, too. As a child and a young man, his anger was his confidence. Twelve years in prison, conviction kept him sane. He longed for freedom, but his escape has led to another imprisonment. The only thing which makes this prison more bearable than Azkaban is the people who are here with him, and the opportunity to annoy them, amuse them and, perhaps, manipulate them into asking each other out. Which, Sirius reckons, means that a few moments of unease and loneliness are definitely worth it.