Strangeways, Here We Come

Tea…

Opening the cupboard door, she saw countless boxes of tea sitting on the shelf. She had to grin at the sight – members of the Order had important things in common, such as the desire to fight the good fight, but when it came to agreeing on what to drink then they truly showed their differences.

Throughout all the meetings and breakfasts and chats she'd sat through at Number Twelve, she'd managed to learn how each and every person in the house took their tea. In fact, she'd even developed theories about their choices – she was sure that one's preference corresponded to their personality.

The English Breakfast was Molly's, and that didn't surprise her – a brisk start to the day was needed if one was to deal with the entire Weasley brood, and the strength of its flavour was definitely a parallel to the woman's energy. Arthur drank it as well, which Tonks thought was sweet; yet another way in which the two were a united front.

Ginny didn't fall into the Weasley beverage mould, preferring green tea instead. That made sense – it seemed very Zen, and she was certainly the most calm and collected of the bunch. Hermione drank it as well, having researched some facts about its vitamin content and antioxidants, but nobody had really been able to follow all that.

The Irish Breakfast belonged to Mundungus, who insisted that his tea had to be "strong enough for a Jarvey to trot on." Of course, that strength was probably helped along by the whiskey he added. She suspected that was the only reason Sirius occasionally dragged himself downstairs at sunup, because he was neither a morning person nor a big tea drinker.

She herself had begun to prefer fruit teas, be they raspberry, strawberry, or peach. Analyzing one's self was always more difficult than analyzing others, but she supposed it was due to all the seriousness in the world lately – what better way to unwind than with a warm cup of delicious flavour? Remus had his own opinion on her tastes. "Merlin, how much sugar did you put in that!" he had exclaimed after stealing a sip. "Is it your tea that makes you so sweet?"

She blushed as she recalled his flirtatious words, but then remembered what she was there for. Grabbing the Earl Grey, she set about boiling the water and preparing a cuppa. It took her longer than usual because she moved with painstaking precision, determined not to spill, drop, or break anything. Surprisingly there were no accidents, not even on her way up the stairs and into Remus' room.

He lay in bed recuperating from the full moon, but he still managed to sit up and take the cup from her with a smile. "Thank you, Nymphadora."

He looked dead handsome, as always, but quite peaky. Her first instinct was to tuck him in and insist he rest (had spending so much time with Molly passed on the woman's mothering urge?), but then she realized he might see that as an act of pity, or emasculation. That was the last thing she wanted, so she forced herself to reply as she usually did. "It's Tonks, Remus!"

He rolled his eyes and took a sip while she watched him, and her thoughts returned to her correlations between tea and personality. He drank his without milk or sugar or honey or cream – she might have thought the strong taste was his way of reaching the parts of himself that he kept closed off to others, or some pretentious explanation like that… But she knew better. The truth was that he had gotten accustomed to taking it so, which stemmed from often not being able to afford such commodities.

Perhaps that was what spoke about his personality most of all – the fact that he still persevered, even after bitterly tasting his poverty every day.

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Toodles,
- ish -