God, you look delicious.
Standing there in that ridiculous puffy pink dressing gown—the one with the loud monochromatic striped scheme that Sirius bought you for your birthday—you don't know that I stare while you wiggle your bum to some tune that none of the rest of us can hear. I'd be willing to wager a bar of Honeyduke's best that you've managed a headset charm in between Sirius and Molly's bickering.
"Tonks, dear, how would you like your eggs?" Molly is talking to you but you're still making a cup of tea at the counter, shuffling those matching slippers so clumsily, so sexily.
"She likes them scrambled, Molly," I remind her, smiling at your obliviousness—at the sparkle of your eyes as you turn and grin at me.
"Didn't know you cared, Remus," you say cheekily, winking as you stumble into the chair across from me. Your voice is still rough with sleep, and I imagine that it would sound that way if you woke up next to me.
Merlin, if you only knew.
As you slowly stir sugar into your tea, your eyes suddenly pop up and meet mine, and you slowly grin at me.
Do you know?