It was a Saturday afternoon in July and Nymphadora Tonks, now Nymphadora Lupin, was walking down a Muggle street, hand in hand, with her husband of one week.
“So,” Remus said jokingly, “will everyone have to call you Lupin now and not Tonks?”
She giggled. “I hadn’t thought of that. It might be a bit confusing, Lupin and Lupin. I think everyone should stick to Tonks.”
“Mmm,” he said as he leant over and kissed her cheek. “Except sometimes when I’ll be calling you Dora.”
She giggled again. Remus had told her he refused to use her nickname when they were being affectionate.
She pulled him down a side street and began to kiss him. Usually so reserved, she expected him to pull away but to her surprise he responded.
“I love you, Dora” he whispered.
“I love you too,” she replied.
“Oy, do you mind,” screeched a voice behind them. “The wedding party will be here soon and you’re right in the way of the staff entrance.”
She looked at Remus’ shabby clothes and Tonks’ frayed jeans.
“You’re not guests, then?” she muttered.
“No,” replied Tonks. “We’re just passing.” She looked at the large box in the woman’s hands.
“Oh, is that the cake?” she asked.
“Yep, three tiers, flowers, butterflies, sparkly bits – the whole shebang!”
“Can I see it?” said Tonks.
The woman considered carefully then lifted the lid to reveal the creation.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” breathed Tonks. “Remus, look at those butterflies. Aren’t they lovely?”
She looked up at the woman. “Did you make this?” she asked, her eyes alight with enthusiasm.
The woman nodded, mollified by the compliments on her skill.
Remus watched sadly as his new wife gazed at the cake. Their wedding had been ridiculously small. No family and precious few friends in attendance. Kingsley and Moody had acted as witnesses. It hadn’t bothered him but he knew Tonks had been deeply hurt by her parent’s non-attendance, despite the bravado.
“Well,” said the woman, “I’d better get on. That looks like the first car arriving.”
Remus and Tonks followed her gaze and saw a sleek Rolls Royce draw up. The chauffeur stepped out and opened the door of the car. A young, handsome man got out of the car and looked round.
“You could help me,” complained a voice from inside the car, “This dress is bloody uncomfortable.”
They saw the groom turn back with an impatient look on his face and reach into the car. The bride got out. She was wearing a stunning, ivory silk, dream of a dress which emphasised her tiny waist. Remus looked down at Tonks thinking she’d be looking at the dress longingly, but he thought wrong.
“She looks angry about something,” mused Tonks. “How can a bride be cross on her wedding day? And she looks so beautiful too.”
“She can’t hold a candle to you, Dora,” whispered Remus as he nuzzled her ear.