A week later, they reached the end of the surveillance roster and Tonks was due to move back into her flat the following morning, when she accepted a second date with the dishwasher from the Hog's Head. She did so without any enthusiasm at all and only because her mother had smiled in a particularly annoying, knowing way when she'd confessed that her most recent date had been less than brilliant. She usually knew better than to confide in Andromeda about her love life, but had been caught at a weak moment when her dad had pinched two of her pawns in their game of chess, the sodding cheat.
As she had a miraculous two days off from the Ministry and no Order meeting through which she'd have to prop her eyes open, Tonks had assumed that a second date could only be an improvement on the snooze-fest of the first. She had assumed incorrectly.
Things had begun badly when she'd stupidly gone to give Buckbeak his dinner while wearing her best date clothes and, even more stupidly, had forgotten to bow upon entering the room. She should probably count herself lucky that the hippogriff seemed to quite fancy her and had reacted in a relatively restrained manner, tossing a bucket of meat pieces back in her face and shredding her best top rather than her skin. Nevertheless, the silky shirt had cost a mint and was useful for both eating out and debriefs with Scrimgeour, so she felt justified in being a touch pissed off about its destruction. She was hopeless with haberdashery spells and Molly and her useful wand arm were nowhere to be found. Since she hadn't bothered to sort her laundry in over week, either, she'd been forced to borrow a dress from Emmeline Vance, who had surprisingly good taste but depressingly slender hips. It was difficult to maintain a body morph for an extended period of time and Tonks disliked doing it, anyway, so she'd squeezed herself into the garment and buttoned a jacket over the top. They were having dinner at the Three Broomsticks, which was notoriously cold, so with any luck she'd be able to keep the extra layer of clothing.
It had also come in handy as she was leaving the house and became caught up in a distinctly chilly exchange with her cousin. Sirius and Remus had been in the hallway, trying to detach a horrible history painting of a house elf execution from the wall, and had offered her a pint and an equal share of Molly's lemon meringue pie for her tea. Remus had raised his eyebrows slightly at the mention of her dinner plans and she flushed as she recalled informing him that a second round was an unlikely prospect. He hadn't said much, seemingly intent upon a series of impressive spells that were doing little to remove the monstrosity from its mounting. Sirius, on the other hand, had looked as if he'd rather use his wand to poke her in the eye.
And that had been the highlight of the evening. The lowest point, she reckoned, being the moment she had got up from the table at the Three Broomsticks to find the loo and had accidentally tripped over an intoxicated regular. The man had lost his wand in their graceless tumble to the ground but had managed to tear a strip from Tonks's borrowed dress and use his fists to vent his befuddled outrage on her dinner companion. The drunk had ended up unconscious, her date sporting a bloody nose and a fat lip, and Tonks had destroyed any lingering hope of repairing Emmeline's favourite frock by elbowing a glass of wine into her lap. All of which would have been forgiven by her blue-haired friend if she hadn't managed, in the process of apologizing and trying to perform an Episkey on his broken nose, to step on one of his prized drum sticks. The death knell on their pitiful relationship had come in the form of the crack of a shoddy stick of wood, once belonging, he claimed, to the lead drummer of the Hobgoblins. Tonks didn't think even Stubby Boardman would have fitted his band out with Nargle-pitted drum sticks, but that observation had not gone down well.
She had left him sitting on the dirty floor of the pub, weeping actual tears over the faint mark left by Madam Rosmerta's efficient reparo on his prized possession. His final remark that the Auror Department ought to keep her on a leash and it was no wonder there were Death Eaters running rampant with professionals like Tonks on the loose had killed any remorse or regret that she might have felt. She had stomped to the nearest Floo portal, whirled through the return journey to a grocery near King's Cross and hurried the rest of the way home to number twelve. It was raining by the time she let herself into the house, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was too angry.
No, she wasn't.
She sighed. Humiliated was the word. How many witches couldn't manage to get through a simple dinner without doing bodily harm and destroying the property of everyone around them?
Tugging at the buttons of her sopping coat with one hand, Tonks hauled it off and slung it across the troll's foot umbrella stand.
"Well, that was a bloody fantastic evening," she informed her nemesis. She looked down at the shredded remains of the dress and groaned, running the loose flap between her fingers. Emmeline was too much of a lady to throw out a hex or two when she saw the damage. Tonks hoped.
At the sound of footsteps, she looked up in time to see Sirius emerge from the kitchen stairway, a bottle of beer in each hand and a packet of crisps clasped between his teeth. He stopped short in surprise at the sight of her and reached up to hook a finger around the crisps.
"It's only half past eight," he said blankly, glancing at the pocket watch at his waist. He grinned at her, slightly unpleasantly. "Shagged you and ran, did he?"
Sirius had been in a vile mood since his birthday three days earlier. Remus had done his best to provide sufficient company and entertainment, but he was obviously chafing under the necessary restrictions that kept him confined to the house and its musty contents. Nobody blamed him, but his temper wasn't making things any easier. She ignored him, concentrating on the dress and wondering if it would be worth taking it to the Burrow and throwing herself on Molly's mercy.
Sirius leaned a negligent hip against the umbrella stand. The umbrella stand which had a habit of toppling to the ground the moment that she passed in its presence, but, of course, Tonks noted bitterly, didn't so much as wobble at his reckless action.
"Bloody hell," he said in a different voice, an amused voice, noting her disheveled appearance for the first time. "What did you do to the poor bloke?"
Feeling her cheeks heat with colour, Tonks tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and counted to ten. Fifteen. Twenty. She was up to thirty-three and still seething when a quieter tread sounded on the stairs and Remus came into view.
"Sirius, where are the…" He broke off when he saw her, looking slightly appalled. "Tonks? What on earth…"
All of a sudden, her anger vanished completely, leaving her feeling alone and small with her embarrassment.
"I…" She had nothing to say. To her absolute horror, a burning sensation prickled at the back of her eyes. Bollocks to that! She'd gritted her teeth through enough suturing charms and Skele-Gro potions over the years. She was not going to cry over a bad date in front of Remus Lupin.
"Are you hurt?" Remus asked, coming to stand within feet of her. His hand hovered between them, surprisingly large and capable-looking with slender fingers, but he didn't touch her, a fact that somehow made Tonks feel worse. He took in the state of her clothes with one glance. She was surprised to see the flush of anger rising in his cheeks and suddenly realised how it might look, if she were any other woman. But obviously, in her case, no one would jump to the first conclusion that…
"This bloke who took you out to dinner," Remus said tightly. "He didn't… Did he?"
Merlin. He did think that… A tentative smile curled the edges of Tonks's mouth, quickly turning into a scowl at Sirius's abrupt snort.
"Of course he didn't. He'd have got a short, sharp kick in the family jewels for his trouble," he said, obnoxiously and correctly. "I don't think it's my fair cousin's welfare that we need worry about, mate. What happened, coz? The old elbow in the face while you were pouring a glass of wine?"
Once. She had done that to Sirius once.
"No," she said defensively, before wincing. There was no point in trying to bluff it out, not when the whole scene had played out in front of Rosmerta's locals and a good portion of the Ministry wage-slaves. "I got him involved in a bar brawl and then accidentally snapped his drum stick in half."
Sirius choked on a mouthful of beer. It was several moments before he caught his breath and stared at her in revulsion.
"You did what?" he asked, using the sleeve of his black shirt to wipe his chin clean. "Please tell me that's not a bloody euphemism."
It was far too soon for any part of the evening to have a funny side, but Tonks couldn't help smiling.
"He had a close call on that one, too," she said, remembering their parting words. "If I'd stayed any longer, I'd have really given the git something to cry about."
The burst of bravado lasted only a few seconds, before the feel of torn fabric brushing her arm brought her swiftly back to reality.
"I can't give this dress back to Emmeline the way it is." She bit her lip. "Maybe I should have a go with a sewing spell. Mum did once give me a book on household spells and I reckon it can't be that hard," she said doubtfully, the sickening feeling in her stomach reflected in the hesitant statement.
Remus rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
"Tonks, I'm not sure that would be…" he began, before intercepting an oddly disapproving glare from Sirius. He paused, frowned at his friend and asked diplomatically, "Have you ever used the book?"
"Well, it's been dead useful propping up my coffee table," she offered, grimacing. "Does wonders for the wonky leg."
"Yes." Remus cleared his throat. "Perhaps it would be wise to consult Molly before you do anything…rash."
Sirius lifted his bottle of beer to the light, examining the dregs with studied care.
"That's not very supportive, mate," he said lightly. "Rule of thumb, you know. Call them pretty and perfect, and you might be in luck. Point out their faults and you'll never get a… Shite!" He raised his forearm to his mouth and sucked at the streak of blood that had appeared on the rough skin. Glaring ferociously at Remus, who was calmly tucking his wand back into his pocket, he jerked his head toward Tonks. "You could at least be a gentleman and offer to fix it for her, you hopeless prat."
Tonks's fascinated gaze switched back to Remus, who pointedly raised an elbow and gestured at the badly darned patches on his coat.
"Does it look like I've spent the last few years polishing up on my needlework?" he asked tightly. "But if you'd like to peruse the household manuals in the library, mate, don't let us keep you."
She was beginning to feel like the intruder in the room, as a silent conversation was clearly taking place between the two men. Usually it would rile her no end, being left out of things, but Sirius was obviously drunker than he looked and she didn't feel like coaxing him out of a mood. She was in serious danger of feeling sorry for herself and could see only one way out.
She was just going to have to eat Molly's entire lemon meringue pie.
"Look on the bright side," Sirius said suddenly, interrupting her plans for an impressive display of gluttony, and she jumped. Their attention had returned to her predicament. "At least the dress fits around your middle now."
Forget the pie.
Tonks wondered if it would make her feel better to hex him first or just shove her wand up his…
"I'll just get started on that research, shall I?" Sirius said hastily, obviously reading her mind.
Although the hand gesture had perhaps also been a bit of a clue.
"The library is that way," Remus told him dryly, as he started back down the stairs toward the kitchen, and he waved a casual hand over his shoulder.
"I'll just grab a few more beers for the road. Can't read on an empty stomach."
He disappeared, whistling, and Tonks grunted crossly. As if Sirius was in a position to criticize her looks, when he hadn't been near a comb for days and, frankly, nobody but Kreacher appreciated the scent of stale whisky and cheap Spanish cigars. She'd caught both her cousin and the house elf nicking them from Mundungus's digs on the third floor, a sign, she'd informed Sirius at the time, of questionable mental health and bloody poor taste.
Remus glanced over at her and she wrapped a defensive arm across her exposed belly. He looked rather ill at ease and peaky, as if he hadn't slept well. Her gaze flickered to the calendar on the wall, an incongruous Muggle mock-up, emblazoned with a cheerful print of a bluebell field that looked about as fitting in Grimmauld Place as her purple knee-highs. She winced. It was only a week until the full moon and she was a selfish cow. She and Remus had bantered their way through a game of chess and a cup of tea every night that week and she was starting to feel comfortable in considering him a proper mate. But proper mates would recognize when their friends were feeling under the weather, wouldn't they? They wouldn't keep them standing in a cold hallway, nattering on about a bad date and a ruined dress.
"You look tired. You need to go to bed earlier, stop letting Sirius drag you down into the bottle with him," she said bluntly, and then flushed. Who was she supposed to be now? His mother?
Nice one, Tonks. He's a grown man, for Merlin's sake. Are you going to offer to tuck him into bed, too?
She could feel the heat in her cheeks spreading down her neck. It felt like she was blushing all through her midsection and she was relieved when he checked his surprise at her embarrassing command and smiled briefly.
"I'm sure it's not very gentlemanly to point this out, Nymphadora," he said, and Tonks wrinkled her nose in warning. "But you look as if a decent eight hours wouldn't go astray, yourself. I'm sure that Molly would be only too happy to give you a hand with the dress tomorrow." He managed to pull a sympathetic expression that somehow avoided being patronizing, so she let it slide. "And they do say that things always look brighter in the morning, don't they?"
Tonks snorted, reaching down to tug at her slipping socks.
"'Course, 'they' obviously never woke up with a raging hangover," she retorted, gathering her rain-tangled hair into a ponytail and wondering why she was fidgeting so much. She purposely folded her arms across her chest, which had the added benefit of hiding the strip of purple lace bra she had just discovered was peeking out from the ruined bodice of the dress. "I can't go to bed yet. It's too early and I'll just end up lying there for hours, tossing and turning until the moment I realise that my mother was right again. At which point, I'll probably end up in the kitchen with Sirius, trying to drown my self-pity in a bowl of whisky, and the morning will seem so bright that I'll need a pair of sunglasses and a Hagrid-sized portion of Arthur's home remedy."
She paused for breath and Remus smoothed out his smile with his hand. He rubbed his fingers against the sharp line of his jaw, where Tonks could just make out the appearance of stubble, and contemplated her in silence.
She uncrossed her arms and pulled at her sock again.
"What was your mother right about?" he asked finally. Without removing his gaze from hers, he walked over to the top of the kitchen stairwell, crouched down on his haunches and picked up a pink string from the wood floor. Before Tonks's astonished eyes, he said a very calm and very loud "Sod off," into the curved end of the string, tied a neat knot in its length and tossed the thwarted Extendable Ear set back to the ground. He nudged it aside with a worn shoe and they both listened as it skittered back down the steps, presumably returning to the kitchen.
"She didn't approve of your…boyfriend?" Remus asked her, as he stood up and brushed off his palms, and she blinked, shutting her mouth with a snap and trying to snatch up her scattered wits. The whole evening was turning a bit surreal.
"He was hardly my boyfriend," she managed, wondering why she was speaking to Remus Lupin, of all people, in sentences that were so embarrassingly adolescent she wouldn't write them in a damn journal. "It was only a second date. We went out once because it seemed like we should have loads in common." She grimaced. "We didn't, and we only went out again because I let my mother goad me into it with her usual complaints about my fecklessness and inability to commit to anything." Honesty compelled her to add, "She's right, I reckon, and I love her to bits, really, but I don't need to hear a listing of my faults every bloody week."
"You were already committed to a very difficult job when you took on the added responsibility of the Order." Remus shook his head. "I would never call you feckless, Tonks." His smile returned, cranked up a notch. "Headstrong, certainly, and alarmingly impulsive on occasion, but never feckless."
"Don't worry," Tonks said, unable to keep back a grin. "Headstrong and impulsive are on Mum's list, as well. Right above 'frivolous' and 'impractical'." She made a clumsy attempt at tucking the torn strap back into the neckline of the dress and her expression turned rueful. "Can't argue with that last one."
"I'm sorry that you had such a disappointing evening," Remus said, sounding completely sincere in contrast to Sirius's earlier hoots of unsurprised laughter, which reminded Tonks that she would have to have a few words with that nosy bugger in the morning.
"Yeah, well," she said in brief response, shrugging. She didn't much fancy flogging that particular horse all night. Lingering resentment toward her mother had combined with a pretty traumatic week at work and she liked to think that exhaustion was responsible for the sulky half hour in which she'd just indulged. A bad date hadn't been the best way to end an altogether shite week, it was true, but she usually would have forced herself to laugh it off and followed through on her instincts to hex the prat. She hated her clumsiness, but frankly, if she sank into total depression every time she embarrassed herself in public, she'd have gone nutters and taken up residence with Moaning Myrtle long ago.
Groaning, Tonks raised her arms and stretched, letting one forearm fall to rest on her tilted head. She glanced around the dim entrance hall, taking in the peeling wall coverings and the brass fittings that shone after Molly's determined ministrations. A spot of polish had only highlighted their grotesque shapes and carved details. There appeared to be a slight draught, as the door to the old bathroom under the stairs was banging with irritating regularity, but she caught a flicker of movement and realised that the ghoul from the upstairs loo must have caught on to the fact that everyone was avoiding his usual haunt. Brilliant. She'd have to warn the others to keep their wands handy.
"Do you know, even when Sirius has been a total git, I do feel for him," she said slowly. "I've never experienced anything quite like this place. It's like even the damp in the walls is oozing evil." She hunched her shoulder in an apologetic half-shrug. "I know it's bad for you, too, having to live here for months on end, but at least we can leave. Even after a bloody awful week, it would be stupid to go back outside and wander around London in the dark and the rain, but I could do it, if I wanted. He must be going mad. I've only been home for twenty minutes and I already feel like I'm suffocating in here."
Remus was staring at the spot where the Extendable Ear set had previously rested, his face troubled. More lines of tiredness seemed to have appeared at the edges of his eyes and mouth, drawing his features together in a picture of worry.
Tonks acted instinctively, reaching out to touch his arm. He started, looking down at her pale hand against the rough tweed of his coat, and flicked an intent glance up at her face. Her breath momentarily hitched and she slowly withdrew her fingers. They curled into a light fist at her side.
Remus cleared his throat, taking a step back.
"He's gone from one prison into another," he agreed, his voice slightly husky. "Grimmauld Place may not have Dementors, but there is a plentiful supply of bad memories here for Sirius." His mouth twisted in a semblance of a smile. "Not to mention the ghoul in the loo. There are only three factors, I think, that are making this time at all tolerable for him and if any one of them was in danger of being taken away, I honestly believe that he'd be out that door, damning the consequences. He's here because he's made the decision to grit his teeth and stick it out, not because anyone is forcing him to stay. Sirius has never been at his best with authority."
"By 'three factors', you mean yourself, Harry and firewhisky, I suppose?" Tonks asked, frowning.
Remus gave a short laugh.
"Alcohol, certainly. I don't think any of Molly's disapproving looks or frightening anecdotes are going to part Sirius from his bottles in the near future. Harry is the main consideration, of course. The hope of Harry, I suppose you might say. Sirius sees a day when he'll be able to have the relationship with James's son that the two of them always planned. It keeps him focused, to as great an extent as anything is going to. He deserves that future. Harry too." He moved restlessly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I wasn't including myself in that statement. I can't argue that I need to be here and that Sirius needs the company. But it's a constant reminder… We'll always be family, but it will never be the same. James was the original link and when he was gone, we proved woefully inadequate at forging a new one…" He trailed off and flushed. "Sorry. You're quite right, there is something about this house that brings out the worst in people. Before that lamentable display of self-pity, I was actually referring to the garden on the roof."
"It's not self-pity, Remus," Tonks said firmly, "And I want to hear…" She looked at his uncompromising expression and sighed, telling him threateningly, "I'll wait until the next time you're keeping Sirius and his bottles company, then."
Then she frowned, successfully diverted from an obviously painful subject.
"What garden on the roof?"
With the night air cool on her skin and a light breeze stirring her hair, Tonks gazed out at the lights and fog of London. Church bells were ringing somewhere on the horizon and she could hear a distant foghorn in the direction of the Thames. Although it had stopped raining since she'd arrived home, it was cold and she wrapped the edges of her coat, dry and warm after a short demonstration of Remus's skills at wandless magic, tighter across her midriff. The hint of frost in the sky was like a hit of adrenaline after the oppressiveness indoors. Turning, she smiled at Remus, who stood by the trapdoor to the attic. His hair was ruffled across his forehead and his cheeks were ruddy with cold, but he looked similarly at ease.
"How did I not know about this before?" she demanded, twirling in a slightly giddy circle and gazing around at the wholly unexpected, entirely delightful oasis of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Tonks's grunts and put-upon sighs as Remus had led the way through the untidy, hazardous obstacles of the attic had faded as soon as she had reached the top step of the hideaway ladder in the ceiling. For ensconced on the ramshackle, dirty roof of Sirius's ramshackle, dirty house was the quaintest, loveliest garden that Tonks had seen since her last visit to the Burrow. Protected by a pillared stone canopy and, according to Remus, a host of powerful concealment charms, a small paved courtyard was surrounded by a short sweep of green lawn and a tangled profusion of rose bushes and daisy plants. The faint babble and splash of water had alerted Tonks to the presence of the tiny fountain, hidden in a short embankment of rock.
The view across the city was spectacular. The view of the night sky, she discovered when she clambered eagerly onto the largest of the rocks, was breath-taking. As she tilted her head back, ignoring the pain in her neck and the grazes on her palms when she slipped and almost fell from her precarious perch, she let out her breath in a silent whistle. For once, she could appreciate the Black family's snotty insistence on having only the best of everything. Rather ironically and clearly due to an enchantment more powerful than she had ever even read about, no dark clouds hovered over Grimmauld Place. Instead, a circle of clear sky, a celestial skylight, offered an unimpeded view of the stars. Stars that she had almost forgotten still hung over London, so long it had been since she'd seen them.
"Sirius would have showed you eventually, I expect," Remus said, sitting down more cautiously on the rock beside her. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Tonks dragged her attention from the sky for moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest under his own coat and scarf. "He just got in the habit of keeping quiet about it when the Order first began meeting here. Said, and I quote, 'Hestia would pick all the flowers, Molly would plan a tea party, Dung would piss in the fountain and Snivellus would poison the only half-decent corner of this rotting heap'. This was the only place that he could come when he was younger."
"Somehow I can't imagine him sitting up here star-gazing," Tonks mumbled, fully engrossed in just that activity. "Even if he does have the name for it."
"I should think he came up here to swear and smoke," Remus agreed, and laughed suddenly. "He once told me that he would have brought girls up here, if he'd been able to stick it at home for longer and if his mother hadn't sent them shrieking for the front door. Reckoned it would be the only spot in the house that had seen so much as a kiss for centuries."
His words were followed by a slightly awkward silence and Tonks felt herself blushing. For a lack of anything better to do, she wriggled around, trying to get comfortable, and they both frowned at a sudden crackling sound.
"Oh," said Tonks, a bit blankly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled foil packet. She shrugged, looking at Remus sheepishly. "Leftovers from the pub. The rest of the night was so awful that I reckoned I ought to get something out of it." Peeling back the foil, she peered at the food within. "Want a chip? They're not too squashed."
The night, she decided as they ate in silence, sharing a snack of reheated chips and cheese tarts in a secret garden on the roof of number twelve, had gone from being awful to being totally bizarre.
And she couldn't deny that she was enjoying it.
Remus appeared to be looking at something over her shoulder. She was about to turn to see what it was, when he said, "There's a stripe of brown in your hair tonight."
Oh, bugger.
Putting down the half-eaten chip in her hand, Tonks groped for her hair, pulling it forward over her shoulder. Sure enough, growing over her left ear was a fat streak of horrid mouse brown.
"It happens sometimes," she admitted, tugging crossly at the offending lock. "Usually not so obviously, thank Merlin."
With a spark of amusement, she saw that Remus had temporarily lost interest in the food and was wearing his Professor Face of scholarly interest. He leaned forward to examine the hint of her natural looks with fascination.
"You start to lose a morph, you mean?" he asked, before looking at her with some concern. "Are your abilities connected with your emotions?"
Tonks glared at him, profoundly frustrated at hearing a widely popular piece of absolute drivel about Metamorphmagi from the lips of someone whom she…respected.
"You mean, am I so depressed that I can't hold onto a bloke that even my hair goes out in sympathy?" she asked sarcastically. "No, again that would be one of Eldogas Smith's bright ideas and since you didn't seem to buy into the insect-scoffing theory, you can write that one off as a load of bunk, as well. It's hard," she explained shortly. "I can't just morph at the blink of an eye and go merrily on my way. It drains a lot of energy and sometimes if I get really stressed and tired, it starts to slip. This hasn't been the easiest week at work since the Death Eater attack in Brighton on Monday." She bit her lip. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that to yourself, because I don't reckon that Scrimgeour and Dumbledore would be chuffed to learn that I could potentially lose a morph if a situation went belly up."
Remus reached out and touched one fingertip to her hair, barely stirring the loathed streak of brown. It was the first time that he'd ever touched her. The thought popped into her head and she dug her teeth into her lower lip. Stupid. She couldn't even feel it and it was just Remus and she was just Tonks, so who cared?
"I didn't mean to offend you, Tonks," he said quietly, looking at her seriously. His hand slowly returned to his lap and she tried to stop staring at it, at his neat fingers and large palm and the scattering of hairs on his wrist. "And I hope you know by now that I would never betray your confidence, but if there's one thing that you don't need to worry about, it's your capability at your job. Rufus Scrimgeour is notoriously picky about his recruits and he would never have passed you into the Auror programme on the basis of one facet of your identity. I know for a fact that Albus's faith in you has absolutely nothing to do with those cheerful heads of hair and alarming pig snouts." She couldn't help smiling. "I think you'll find that his knowledge of Metamorphmagi far surpasses what little can be found in Smith's questionable publication and that he already knows about the technicalities of morphing. Has he ever given you reason to believe that he has doubts about you?"
"No," said Tonks, and it was the truth. "He hasn't."
There didn't seem a need for many words between them after that. Minutes ran into hours as they sat there, lounging on the rocks, breathing in the scent of roses and fresh air, and feeling small under the porthole of stars. When the cold air became uncomfortable rather than refreshing, they cast a joint warming charm that was so effective Tonks was tempted to remove her coat. The memory of exposed purple lace kept her covered up. She managed to transfigure a rather lumpy cushion, which she tucked behind her head when the pangs in her neck warned of retribution in the morning. Triumphantly identifying Venus in the sky, she ignored Remus's pained correction and continued to think of the star as her favourite planet. When she complained that she couldn't make out any of the constellations he was able to reel off like a bloody astronomy textbook, he placed his hand over hers and showed her how to draw a line between the stars with her wand, as if she were writing with a Muggle sparkler on Bonfire Night. His warm breath fanned her cheek and she shivered, her fingers continually slipping and fudging the spell. He was patient and kind, and she thought once again of what a brilliant teacher he must have been and how sodding unfair everything was.
As they sat listening to the silence, after the twelfth chime of a church bell tower had drifted into the night, Tonks discovered a bar of Honeydukes Classic in her other pocket and Remus laughed, informed her that she was a useful person to have around and asked her if she was hoarding a cup of tea in each sock, by any chance? She poked her tongue out at him and passed over half of the chocolate.
Swallowing down the last of her share, she stood up and gazed up at the edge of the clouds, where she could see a peek of the waxing moon. She frowned at it.
"Tonks?" She could hear the smile in Remus's voice. She turned questioning eyes on him. "While I'm quite convinced that you could pull off any change to your appearance, I suspect that a chocolate mustache wasn't your intention."
Blushing furiously, Tonks rolled her eyes at herself and scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth.
"Oh, ta. I'm such a pig, honestly," she said, with an embarrassed laugh. "My Patronus Charm probably isn't much of a surprise to anyone. I remember when my mother came to collect me on the last day of school…I was in a right strop about it, because I wanted one more ride on the Express…and I'd just managed to cast my first Patronus. My dad was dead excited and all my mum could say was "A pig? A pig!", over and over again. Her Patronus is a bloody swan, of course. Dumbledore told her that it was very apt, that pigs are noble animals, indicating honesty and loyalty, and all that malarkey. She just gave this big snort, which was the most unladylike thing I think she's ever done in public and makes her a bit of hypocrite, really…"
Her voice trailed off and her hand slowly drifted away from her face when she realised that Remus was blatantly not listening.
He was instead staring at her mouth.
Tonks let out her breath in a rushing huff of air and forgot to take another one. An unfortunate oversight, given that a moment later his lips descended on hers and the world stopped and a hit of oxygen might have kept her head from spinning somewhere up near the star that she still thought was Venus. That barely rational thought was all she was able to manage while his nose was pressed against hers and the stubble on his chin was rough against her face. When he opened his mouth and she recovered enough to kiss him back, she was no longer capable of thinking anything at all. It wasn't until much later that she realised he had kept his hands at his sides, only their lips in contact until she had literally entwined herself about him, fisting her fingers in his hair and pressing her body into his. Only then had he reached for her and held on tightly, one arm sliding around her waist and the other hand palming her jaw, as if her enthusiastic response to the snog had not been enough to convince him of her willingness.
She had no idea how much time passed before their lips came apart with an audible pop and her senses, if not her comprehension, began to return. Listening to the trickle of the fountain and the hushed sounds of their breathing, Tonks kept a loose hold on Remus's arms as she stood there, her hips still wedged against his belly. She forced her eyes to remain open, but couldn't pull her gaze away from a loose thread on his shoulder. She could feel his chin stirring the hairs above her ear, but was too astonished and too bloody scared to look up at him.
Merlin Almighty.
On the scale of surreal, the night had just gone off the charts.
She had just shared the best snog of her life with Remus Lupin. Remus, one of the most intelligent and powerful wizards that she had ever met, the man Dumbledore himself had described as the ally he would always choose to stand at his right hand. Remus, the man who just last week had irritated her down to her toes at the Order meeting. The man she was loath to admit she had – possibly – fancied for ages. Possibly since the second time they'd met and she had sufficiently recovered from her nerves and fascination over her cousin to notice that he had very nice eyes. Unexpectedly, fantastically, Remus Lupin had kissed her. And she wanted another one.
Seizing the moment, she reached up, grabbed his tie and dove happily back into sensation. After an initial second of shocked stillness, he wrapped his hands about her head, supporting her neck as he forcefully kissed her back.
Oh, my.
She slowly pulled back from him, far enough that she was forced to summon her courage and meet his eyes, which were dark and glazed, but still so close that her lips brushed his as she spoke.
Or rather, gargled. There was no other word for the noise that came out of her mouth while she racked her brain for something intelligent or at least intelligible to say.
"Nice," was, rather embarrassingly, all that she manage.
Remus gave a choked laugh and leaned his forehead against hers. The pads of his fingers softly stroked the lines of her ears and throat.
"Yes, it was rather," he murmured through thickened tones. He nuzzled at her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair, and she wondered vaguely when she had last washed it.
That mood-killing thought gave her back enough presence of mind to straighten away from the tempting warmth of his lean body and take a deep breath. She reached up and twisted her hands into his, bringing them down to rest between their bodies.
"If that was a sympathetic gesture because I've had a rough night, or a drunken impulse that you're going to regret in the morning, I'd rather that you tell me now," she told him bluntly and ignored his startled reaction. "Because I tend to be a bit thick about these things and if you start ducking around corners and hiding in cupboards when you see me coming, I may end up following you in there and picking up where we left off."
Shite. She heard the words coming out of her mouth, and yet… She could tell her mother to add 'cringingly forthright' to her ever-growing list of faults. On the opposite list, of qualities she was sorely lacking, sophistication was obviously right up there with grace.
Remus was looking a bit taken aback. His hands tightened their hold on hers.
"I admittedly had a drink earlier," he said calmly, watching her with veiled intensity. "But I've wanted to do that for weeks and I cannot, in all honesty, express any regret whatsoever that you didn't have a good time on your date." For the first time, he was smiling, properly smiling, and it lit up his face so that Tonks could only stare in stupefied lust. "I couldn't have been more relieved if you'd impaled the bastard with his drum stick."
And in response to that statement, which she would never in a million years have expected to come out Remus's mouth, Tonks did the only thing she could possibly do. She kissed him again.
It was some time later, when they were sitting on the rocks in a rather ridiculous side-by-side position, holding hands as if they were an elderly couple on a park bench when she would rather be straddling his lap and using her hands for a more interesting purpose, that Remus asked her, with mixed disbelief and amusement, "Did you really never suspect it? Sirius has been so blatantly outspoken about my reluctance to approach you that there were several times each day when I could have throttled him with his damn Extendable Ear set."
Tonks couldn't help giggling, before she asked, raising a pointed brow, "Your reluctance?"
Remus hesitated, glancing down at their interlocked fingers. The pause in conversation stretched into minutes and she bit her lip as the seriousness of his expression finally registered.
"I'll have to blame it on the stars, I think," he said eventually, giving her hand a comforting, apologetic squeeze. "Tonks, it wasn't supposed to matter how many jokes or derisive comments Sirius made or how many times Molly engineered to leave us alone together." She blinked in surprise at that one. "I never intended to act upon…my feelings toward you. They rather crept up on me, to begin with, and I never expected you to return them. I hoped that we would become friends, but I do see that the prospect of anything more is problematic, to say the least."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tonks's voice was overly sharp, perhaps, but sod it all! She'd already been thrown off by one bloke in the past twenty-four hours and unlike that rejection, which was becoming more forgettable with each mind-blowing kiss from Remus, this one had the potential to hurt.
"It means," Remus replied, with something of an edge, "that I'm an unemployed werewolf and, to be perfectly blunt, several years too old for you. If I had a shred of decency left in me, I would get up and walk away from you right now." His hold on her tightened, if anything, but she didn't mistake the bitterness in his words.
Her teeth gritted. She had only just found something brilliant, she had barely had time to reflect upon it and he was already trying to take it away. Or rather, tarnish it enough that she would be the one to chuck it away. And by implication, his claim that he was "too old" also meant that she was "too young". Few things irritated Tonks more than hints at her immaturity and preconceptions about her youth.
"You're not too old for me," she said instinctively, reacting against the statement. Then she thought about it. She thought about Remus, the man who could remain standing and expressionless while a woman dropped her tea cup and turned her back on him, the man who could shoulder responsibility for Sirius while having few resources of his own to fall back on. The same man who had, the week before, successfully pulled off a prank on the flabbergasted Weasley twins and protested his innocence with outraged indignation. Only she and Sirius had seen the sparkle of laughter in his eyes before he had retreated behind his newspaper. He was an exasperating, brilliant mix of emotionally exhausted adult and irrepressible Marauder, and she liked him so much. "You're not too old for me, Remus," she repeated, forcefully.
"Tonks, I could never afford to take you anywhere," he said quietly, reluctantly, and she knew it was difficult for him to set aside his pride and voice that fact. "Until things change, if they ever change, even a simple pub dinner would be beyond my means."
"Do I look like Glinda Goodwitch?" Tonks demanded, shaking his hand from side to side for emphasis as she named the blonde presenter from the Wireless who had recently become engaged to Cornelius Fudge. "I don't go around snogging blokes for their galleons, thank you very much. And without even knowing I was on one, I just had the best date and we didn't need anything more than a clear sky and a dusty old bar of chocolate. Give me a little credit, Remus," she said seriously, and he touched his palm to her cheek.
"I've never doubted your integrity, Tonks, or your intelligence, which is why I trust that you'll understand the realities of my situation. Even if we were the same age, even if I had a full vault of gold gathering interest at Gringotts, I would still be reluctant to accept anyone into my life in a significant role. The lycanthropy is not an obstacle that can be overcome with blind optimism and a dusty bar of chocolate."
"Just a clear sky?" Tonks suggested, before she could help herself. She covered her mouth with her hand, appalled. "Sorry! I'm sorry, Remus, of course I understand your concerns and I don't want to make light of them."
Bloody hell, Tonks.
She couldn't go two seconds without proving him right and glossing over the worst part of his existence with a smart-arse remark. Risking a peek at his face, she expected him to look angry or resigned and was surprised to notice the slight twitch of his lips.
"Tonks…" When he spoke her name, however, his voice was heavy.
"Remus." She let go of his hand and gripped both of his forearms, suddenly desperate to hold onto him, to hold onto whatever this odd night brought them for as long as possible. She wasn't ready for this to be over, not yet. Maybe not ever, a fleeting thought that scared the hell out of her. "You can't tell me that I don't understand the dangers. I know I don't have first-hand experience of what it's like for you, but I'm an Auror, for Merlin's sake. I've worked with other werewolves. If we begin a…a relationship, I won't be going into it blind." She was suddenly cross. "We've talked about this. I knew about the lycanthropy before we even met and it never stopped me wanting to be friends with you. It never stopped me respecting you and if it's the main reason that you don't think we could be more than friends, it's not bloody well enough!"
He was watching her quietly, his eyes a storm of emotions, chiefly regret and doubt.
"I…" She trailed off, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. Bugger it. A handful of kisses and she was practically begging the poor bloke.
And he could be right, couldn't he?
She couldn't ignore the little voice in her head, the one that was trying to distance itself from the lust-crazed body still edging closer to Remus with every breath. Did she really want this? It might be brilliant. It might be the most fantastic thing that had ever happened to her. But their collective baggage would be a bloody heavy weight to carry. It wasn't too late to get out. She thought she knew Remus. She did know that he would never show disappointment in his face or let bitterness dictate his behaviour toward her were she to get up now, walk downstairs and go to bed. Somewhere, in the rational part of her mind and the pit of her stomach, she wondered if he was right, if she really was being too dismissive of his doubts, if they would come to regret what had happened tonight.
And then he kissed her again. His hands were not quite steady, but his mouth was firm and sure, and she realised that it was too late. It was already too late to get up and to walk away. They had already moved beyond that point, whatever Remus said or did to dissuade her.
It was strange. In spite of the constant changes to her appearance, Tonks had always considered herself a fairly steady person. Her dad was a self-confessed plodder in life, fixed in his ways and she had always thought she'd inherited that side of him. With the possible exception of his Pensieve memory, very little had ever happened to shift her way of thinking or the way that she reacted to situations. She had been magic-born, so the arrival of her Hogwarts letter, an event which fundamentally changed the life of every Muggle-born wizard and witch, had been entirely expected. The physical changes as she had moved beyond her childhood and teenage years had meant little to someone who had been able to morph wrinkles and grey hair at age six, disconcerting a steady stream of nannies and housekeepers. And at seven years old, after a chance encounter with her mother's frightening older sister, she had understood the presence of evil in the world. That day, she had known the true meaning of 'bad blood' and her decision to train for the Auror Squad had been made by the end of her first year at school. Throughout it all, even as she fumbled and stumbled though one awkward situation after another, even when she didn't particularly like herself, she had known exactly who she was.
But in the hour after midnight, under a star-dotted hole in the clouds, Tonks suddenly realised that everything she had imagined about herself and about the future that she would have had changed.
When she pulled back from Remus, the words in her head were "It will work, I know it will." What came out of her mouth, albeit firmly, was, "We can try."
He was silent.
Trying to smile, she said, only half-jokingly, "Are you sure it's not me who's the problem, Remus?" She wrinkled her nose and self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ear. "I would never in a million years have thought you'd fancy me, you know. I s'pose I would have thought you'd go for someone beautiful and…and impressive."
Remus met her gaze.
"I did," he said, matter-of-factly.
Oh, very smooth, mate.
Tonks rolled her eyes at him. Even if she was secretly a bit chuffed.
"Someone graceful," she said pointedly.
"It surprises you that I was attracted by a kind heart and a warm smile and a big mouth rather than two steady legs?" he asked. His grin was faint, but genuine and mischievous.
"I'd tell you what I really think of that pat reply, but I reckon I've listed enough of my failings for one night." She set her jaw and looked at him challengingly. "Besides, my dad always said that you shouldn't spell out your faults for someone. It deprives them of the fun of finding out for themselves."
She had laid all of her cards on the table. It was up to him now. Although if his response was less than satisfactory, she was prepared to remind him that he had made the first move and it was irresponsible not to follow through on what he had started.
He sat there for a long time, gazing out at the twinkling lights of the city. She sat as still as possible as she waited, barely breathing in her concentrated efforts not to fidget, and trying to pretend that she was a patient person.
Finally, Remus turned to face her. He picked up her hands in his, brought them to rest on his lap.
"I can't pretend that I don't have doubts, Nymphadora. But neither can I ignore that this is something I very much want to pursue." His expression was rueful. "The other occupants of this house make it rather difficult to do so. Remind me to have a private word with your cousin in the morning, will you?" He hesitated, before agreeing, as firmly as she had done, "We can try."
His eyes were wary, but their expression was warm and affectionate as he waited for her response. And, as Tonks believed they should start as they meant to go on, there was only one thing she could say, under the circumstances.
"Remus?" she said, leaning forward to touch her lips to the hollow of his throat, where his pulse beat in jumps.
"Mm?"
"Don't call me Nymphadora."