There were flowers in a plain vase. She always brought some with her, for their tea times. For days afterwards, they would sit in pride of place on his coffee table. Today, there were white roses.
He watched her from the doorway of the bathroom, still buttoning his shirt. She was looking over the mantle at the photos and other memoirs there. The tea sat waiting on the low table and as Remus retrieved the worn robe from the back of his desk chair, she turned.
The appraising look she gave him made him feel as warm and shy as it always had. He shrugged on his robe and crossed the small sitting room to stand by her. She was holding in her hands the shell she had given him when she had come in from the rain one day. Her lime hair was plastered to her head, and she pressed the iridescent shell to his hands, and her lips to his. Water had dripped into both their mouths, and Remus drew her inside to help her dry off.
Now, they both smiled at the memory, and Remus couldn't help but press his nose to her hair as she placed the shell back on the mantle. They moved together to sit on the couch in front of the coffee table. While Tonks murmured softly about her day at the Ministry, Remus poured tea from the pot into two waiting cups and added honey to one, cream the other. Silently, he plucked a single petal from a rose and dropped it into the cup with honey before offering it to Tonks, and sitting back with his own cup and a sigh.
Tea was a silent part of their evenings, and when it was gone Remus flicked his wrist to the gramophone in the corner and closed his eyes as the first notes washed over him. After a few moments, Tonks lifted his arm and cuddled in to his body. He cracked one eye open and looked down at her, and smiled.
Nothing in life is as good as this, he thought to himself as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Tea, good music, quiet companionship, and his Nymphadora.