Celestina Warbeck warbles around the room, shrill notes hanging off the rafters of the dreary Grimmauld Place kitchen.

"How long do we have to listen to this," Sirius groans, topping up his tea with a dreg of fire whiskey. He adds a dollop to Remus' mug for good measure, casting a wary glance in Molly's direction again. She's swaying by the counter, a potato peeler in hand and he's not about to ask any louder for fear of it becoming a projectile.

She has uncannily good aim for a housewife, he thinks . . . or maybe because of it.

He pushes a hand under the loose flop of black hair that has tangled above his brow, slinking dangerously close to his eyes now. Remus meets his gaze without turning his head.

"At least until Arthur gets up and offers her a dance," the weary werewolf says, the rise of the moon outside already calling to him; it will be two days yet.

Remus' voice is raw after a sip of the fire whiskey steeped tea; his tolerance for the stuff is lacking compared to Sirius'. They both glance across the table where Arthur is dismantling what looks to be a Muggle video player of some sort (his face pulled tight in unabashed glee) and frown.

"Not likely," Sirius begins. "Maybe I should charm the wireless."

"To what?" Remus asks, grin crooked. "Spontaneously combust?"

"Now that you mention it," Sirius mutters, twirling his wand around his hand like a drumstick. "I could. Though I was just in it for a change of tune. Weird Sister's or something of the sort, but your idea sounds much more appealing."

There's raw mischief in his eyes now and Remus, grin fading, has startled visions of a frizzy haired Molly pulling chunks of wireless out of her lamb stew. He shakes his head and scoots his chair closer to Sirius, grabbing the fire whiskey. "Have another drink," he says. "Try and drown it out a bit."

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Moony?"

"Is it working?"

Sirius snorts, aiming another fierce look at the wireless. "What do you think?"

Wordlessly, Remus summons another bottle from the shelf: something older, stronger, compliments of the noble and ancient—not to mention dusty—House of Black.

Sirius smiles gratefully and offers his mug to the bottle suspended mid-air, waiting on Remus' wandless instruction. "To good company," he says, raising his mug to Remus'. ". . . with terrible taste in music."

It's to the chorus of Stir My Cauldron Tonight that Moody arrives, interrupting the musical insanity, his peg leg thumping an offbeat rhythm in time with the music. His hacking grumble adds little to the backing vocals that Molly is humming. He pulls a flask off his hip and slurps a heavy swig before dropping a file down on the table between them, a puff of dust escaping the wood grain and settling around their faces.

Sirius waves a hand above his drink, cursing that blasted house elf and his so called cleaning skills. "What's all this, Mad-Eye?"

"New recruit," he says, flicking his wand in the direction of the wireless. Celestina cuts off on a rather ear-shattering note and Remus has never been so glad for the ex-Auror's company. Molly doesn't even look up from the parsnips she's dicing. Arthur however does spare a grateful look in the direction of the wireless.

Moody sits across from them, blue eye spinning towards the back of his head. The sight sends Remus' stomach for a jolt and he pulls his gaze away from the dizzying motion and focuses on his hands clasped firmly around his mug with a tight frown; Alastor's presence usually meant something was up.

"Thought you'd like to take a look," Moody says, waving away Molly's offer of tea.

Sirius flips the file open and whistles. "Well, she's a looker, but—"

Mad-Eye swats the file closed and slides it across the table to Remus, his blue eye piercing Sirius. "Not you, Black. This one's for Lupin."

Remus reopens the file and scans the page. "Nymphadora Tonks?"

"What?" Sirius steals the file back, confirming the name. "Can't be! Mad-Eye you're trying to recruit my baby cousin?"

"Cousin?" Remus says. "You never-"

"Long story," Sirius tells him, releasing the file back to Remus and reading it over his shoulder. "Just more of the blacklisted Black's. Bellatrix's baby sister Andromeda, see, married a Muggle-born named Ted. Nice bloke. Got herself blasted of that wretched tree upstairs for it, though. Shame really, she was one of the only ones I could stand. Last I heard they had a baby girl." He thumps back in his chair.

"She's a talented girl," Moody says. "Whip-smart. Good with a wand."

"Also an Auror," Remus adds, impressed considering she can't be a day over twenty-five. He scans the document, fishing for a birth date. Yep, just as he thought. She's approaching her twenty-fourth birthday. A child by some standards. An adult by others.

"My protégée."

Sirius cocks an eyebrow at the ex-Auror, finding it hard to imagine anyone having the patience to work alongside old Moody with his paranoia and mutterings of constant vigilance. "Why don't you just ask her to come along then? If she survived you, she must be Order material."

"The ministry's too infiltrated. Can't really bring up the Order. And I need to test her loyalty before I let her around you lot." Moody points at him. "Especially you, Black. She's been hunting you since her first day on the job with me. I can't very well do a one-eighty on her. She'll think I'm mad."

Sirius smirks. "So what exactly do you expect Moony to do? Trail her around. Take notes?"

Moody grumbles. "Constant vigilance."

"Ah, of course." Sirius pours another glass of whiskey. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Moody stares between them, his eyes finally stopping on Sirius. "I'm too close to it. To her. She's currently working with Kinsley to track your sorry ass down. Unraveling her world within the Ministry could be disastrous for the Order. If she isn't the right cut for us she could take down half the Order with her."

"So you think Moony here has what it takes to drag that Black stubbornness out of her?" Sirius says wistfully, knowing this will be another one of those things he's conveniently left out of for being a convicted murderer.

"He's done a wonder with you."

Sirius points at the old man, but Remus interrupts whatever he's about to say.

"Don't feel left out Sirius. It's really only because I have the least to lose: a dilapidated, underprivileged werewolf between jobs and homes. Who would suspect anything of me?"

"Moony, seriously . . ."

"Just serious fact, Sirius," Remus tries, aiming for some sort of dashed humour.

"Actually, Lupin," Moody says, "it's because you're the only one who won't end strung-up from the rafters in a body-bind curse should you get on her bad side."

Sirius chokes on his drink. "What exactly have you been teaching her?"

Moody just shakes his head. "That's the way she came to me. A firecracker. Don't let the looks fool you. She's one tough pot. Good partner in a jam, too. Long as she can stay grounded long enough, that is."

"Well, Moony," Sirius says, thumping Remus on the back. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you."

"Indeed," Remus agrees. "Alastor, how do I go about contacting her?"

"Oh, she'll be the one to contact you. Word in the office is you might just have information as to Sirius' whereabouts. Kingsley's going to put her on your case file."