First

Remus and Tonks

A/N: This chapter was difficult.

Boo hoo.

I'm still not sure I'm happy with it. Lots of bumps and rough spots, but I'm sick of staring at it, so up it goes. Tonks and Remus have a weird time line, so it's possible I made some canonical goofs. Sorry about that! (I have no idea if the Tonks lived in Surrey or not. Just go with it.) Also, thanks for all the feedback last chapter! Lily and James sure are popular. I'm glad no one got diabetes.

As always, if you dig it, let me know, and if there's anything I could be doing better, let me know! Feedback of any kind is always, always welcome. Dig in!

You're lovely, baby

This war is crazy

I won't let you down, oh no

I won't let them take you

Hell no no!

-Say Anything, Alive with the Glory of Love

Tonks had been listening to the rain fall on the shingled roof of her parents' house for as long as she could remember. Whether a modest patter or a violent downpour threatening to tear down her father's TV antenna, the sound was distinct and familiar to her, and it was normally comforting. But not that night. That night it was just a distraction, a flimsy veneer spread atop the silence in her room to make it seem less conspicuous. She wanted actual silence or actual noise, one or the other; not this weak-willed, staticy middle ground.

Remus seemed comfortable with it, but that didn't really surprise her.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting there in the dark, unspeaking. Unmoving. Maybe she should have turned on a light, but if Tonks was honest with herself, she didn't really want to see the look on Remus' face. He leaned against her dresser, arms crossed, features obscured by the deepening shadow and monochrome tint Tonks' room seemed to adopt when it was really coming down. She couldn't make out any real detail beyond the tightness of his posture, and it was probably better that way. She doubted he was smiling.

On the opposite side of the room, Tonks herself sat cross-legged on her bed, slumping against the wall it was placed along. Her parents hadn't changed a thing since the day she left home. Her grandmother's quilt was still spread over the bed, cushioning a small army of stuffed animals, while the walls were plastered with posters her 17-year-old self had thought the height of interior design. Books, games and photos lined the shelves, relics from a life that was no longer hers. It seemed strange to be back in the nexus of her girlhood with so many years separating her from the child she had been. Stranger still to be sitting there with a handsome older werewolf, but that was neither here nor there.

No one could accuse Tonks of sainted patience, but she tried. For Remus, she tried. It wasn't in her nature to sit quietly and wait for someone to spit out a simple response, but he needed time to consider every word before he spoke. It made her crazy, but that was Remus, and she accepted it. Valued it, even. Sometimes he took it too far, though, and she imagined them both dying of old age without a single word exchanged, tongues withered from disuse.

"So?" Tonks asked at last.

"So what?" He spoke quietly, as if every word was an imposition. Tonks winced.

"So... what do you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say, Nymphadora?"

She shrugged in the dark. "Something. Anything. Don't just leave me hanging here. Kinda poured my heart out for you, man."

"You do that on a regular basis."

Tonks frowned. A gentleman wouldn't have pointed it out.

She heard him sigh heavily. Not in exasperation or anger, but as a man with the weight of the world bearing down on him. He was tired. "I just don't know what you want from me."

"Some acknowledgment of my feelings would be nice."

"Oh, Nymphadora." His tone softened abruptly, though Tonks suspected it was more out of pity than affection. "I care very much for you, and I'm very flattered-"

"Don't dance around it, Remus," Tonks commanded from her cushioned perch. "I'm in love with you. Don't speak to me like a schoolgirl with a passing fancy. All the times I've saved your sorry skin, I won't put up with it." She tried to sound confident and empowered, like the warrior she knew herself to be, but it sounded more like the directives of a petulant teenager. Remus sometimes had that effect on her, and it was one of the few things she hated about him.

He sighed again but lapsed back into silence. Tonks could have screamed in frustration.

The rain fell harder. The Tonks family home stood near a canal that badly flooded this time of year, and it was already swelling against its banks with the force of late October storms. When she was a little girl, Tonks had sometimes imagined that the canal would overflow and take everything with it. A world-wide flood would start from that very point and, like the rest of civilization, her house would float away, bobbing along like a cork in the bath tub. The flood would carry them all somewhere new, some fantastic island with talking birds and ripe mangoes where she, her family and everyone could start over and do things right. In this flood-born world, her mother wouldn't cry at night; her aunts and uncles would visit and bring presents, girls could marry werewolves and their garden would fare much better than it did in the wet Surrey soil.

Tonks had been a child of considerable imagination.

"You'll move on," Remus finally said.

"No. I won't."

"You're young. You're young and you're lovely. You'll get over this."

"Will you stop telling me how I'm going to feel?" Tonks snapped. "I'm not a bleedin' child, Remus, and I know how I feel. You're just going to have to deal with it."

Abandoning his post at the far side of her room, Remus walked himself over to the bed and, after a brief hesitation, sat gingerly beside his outspoken companion. Her aged mattress sagged and squeaked with the additional weight. A deep and miserable ache ran through every inch of Tonks. The closer he was, the more it hurt.

"I'm sorry," said Remus. "I don't mean to condescend to you. I don't have much practice speaking to young women."

"Speaking to us like normal people seems to work well."

Sitting so much closer, Tonks could better make out Remus' expression. He smiled and dropped his eyes to the floor, avoiding her gaze as he so often did. She ran a hand through her hair in aggravation.

"You didn't like fairy tales very much as a child, did you?" he asked suddenly. Tonks looked over, confused.

"No, actually. I loved them. Why?"

"Then you didn't pay very close attention. Cavorting with the wolf never worked out very well for anyone."

Tonks barked a laugh, surprising them both.

"Remus Lupin, did you just reference Little Red Riding Hood in a serious argument?" He turned a rueful smile to her and Tonks gave him an affectionate shove. "You loser. That's a loser thing to say."

"What about you?" Feeling bold, Remus reached over and tugged on a lock of Tonks' hair, dull in the blue-gray darkness. It hadn't changed color in months. "Is this your way of punishing me? Condemning yourself to boring hair?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Tonks tucked the lock huffily back behind her ear. "If I could control it, I would. I haven't had trouble controlling the changes since I was seven years old, Remus. I'm sick of it."

He smiled again, more sadly. Tonks heaved a sigh of her own and leaned against him. He didn't pull away.

Molly often asked why it was she was so fixated on the Tortured Mr. Lupin when younger, friendlier boys abounded, and Tonks had a hard time responding. How could she explain? It wasn't so much chemistry, although they had plenty of that, or his overabundance of excellent qualities, although he had lots of them. It wasn't even the pressure of the war driving her to do stupid things while she still had the chance. She was stuck on Remus because of the way they fit together. Battle after battle they'd fought, mission after mission, and in the aftermath, when she leaned on him, he held her up. They were sharing strength, and it worked because they fit together like interlocking puzzle pieces. That wasn't something you walked away from because it came with complications. That was something you fought for.

"I'm not giving up," Tonks told him.

"You should."

"But I won't. You know I won't."

"I am a werewolf." He sounded exasperated. "You don't make a lover out of a werewolf. It's too dangerous."

"Do you respect me?"

Remus turned around, looking insulted. Or, no, worse. He looked hurt. "Of course I do. How can you ask me that?"

"Do you respect my decision to fight in this war, knowing the probable consequences?" she pressed. "I mean, we're all here of our own free will, right? You respect my choice to take the risk?"

He groaned. "Yes, Nymphadora, I do, but that is a completely different situation."

"It's not!" Tonks argued. "It's one thing if you aren't interested, yes, but it's another if you're just running. I won't stand for it, Remus. I won't. You don't get to tell me who to love or what risks to take. But if you can look me in the eye and say you don't love me, I'll never bring it up again. Never." Tonks fixed him with the full and frightening power of her single-minded gaze. "Tell me you don't love me."

Several times Remus opened his mouth and several times he closed it again, whatever argument or declaration of denial he was going to use dying stillborn on his tongue. Finally he simply sat back and looked at the little Auror with a plaintive expression. She returned it with one of mixed satisfaction and awe.

"I knew it," she murmured.

"It changes nothing," said Remus.

"It changes everything!" Tonks leapt from her bed, shot through with wild energy and the conviction of ten. "Remus, we're in love! How does this not matter to you?"

"I never said it didn't matter, but-"

"But nothing! We're living on the edge of the end of everything, using my bedroom as a safe house in between patrols, which is super awkward, by the way, and we're wasting time on what if scenarios? Do you know how mad that sounds?" Her eyes were wider than Remus had ever seen them, and a note of desperation rang in her voice. "Remus, if I die tonight, if I die and you live, don't you think you'll regret staring at me like a wooden plank instead of being a man and going for it?"

"That won't happen," said Remus through gritted teeth.

"Why not?"

"Because I won't let it!" he exploded. Tonks jumped. She had never heard him shout before. "You are the only person I know that hasn't been ruined by this shit, Dora! You are whole and strong and beautiful, and you aren't going to die, so just come off it!"

For a moment, neither of them knew what to say. Remus had bolted to his feet and he glared at her now, the strangest glare Tonks had ever seen – some unsafe mix of anger, certitude, adoration and fear. It struck her speechless.

Before Tonks could recover, buckled boots began thundering up the staircase. She whirled as her bedroom door flew open; in the doorway stood old Elphias Doge, weathered face taut with worry. He had made himself scarce when Tonks had decided she and Remus needed to have a word, probably having tea with her mother.

"Shacklebolt just sent a call for backup," he informed them. "Death eaters are attacking a muggle concert in southern Piccadilly. Probably just having a spot of fun, but there's too many for the southern garrison to put it down."

"We're going to finish this conversation," Tonks informed Remus as they tore out of the room.

They brushed past Doge to fly down the staircase and swing on their cloaks, battle song already humming through their veins. But before she did anything, Tonks bolted into the sitting room, site of her mother's favorite chair to worry in, and wrapped herself around Andromeda's skinny shoulders to press a kiss into her hair. She never left without a kiss for her mother.

"Be careful, baby," Andromeda implored her daughter, returning the embrace with a tearful ferocity. Her eyes turned to Remus, never more than a few steps behind. "Watch out for her. Please."

He nodded.

Tonks considered arguing the assumption that she needed a baby-sitter, but decided against it. Instead, she whispered love for her mother and backed away to apparate with her two companions. With three mighty cracks, Andromeda was alone in an empty house.

By the time they arrived, the fight was already in full swing. The rain had stopped in London, but the air was thick and humid, laced with the stench of gore. Dead and injured muggles littered the venue grounds. Any that were capable of escape had long since bolted, and it was now a wrestling match between wizards. Tonks counted twenty, maybe twenty-five Death Eaters, all masked, hooting and hollering and having a fabulous time of it. This was entertainment for them. Fury bubbled in Tonks' blood.

She, Remus and Doge must have been the first responders, because it looked like Shacklebolt's unit was trying to fend the villains off single-handedly. The three of them raced forward to take formation, wands out, magic on their lips.

Things always seemed to speed up in battle. Curses flew too fast to keep up with, so a considerable chunk of Tonks' mind went straight to autopilot. She was only too happy to let two years of Auror training and natural instinct guide her through the morass of the fight. Loud pops all over the battlefield told her that other Order members were showing up in force; with any luck, the skirmish would break up as soon as enough reinforcements arrived to make it not worth the fuss. Tonks began to relax. They'd all be home before dinner.

A pair of Death Eaters flanked Tonks from one side. She spun, shielding herself and the allies behind her. A counter curse sent the assailants flying through the air, bloodied enough to warrant retreat. A second wave of opponents made maintaining the offense a more complicated matter and ranks began to separate, but no matter. Tonks turned to face a single Death Eater bearing down on her. She could handle a solitary opponent.

Unless, of course, God-given clumsiness tripped her over her own cloak.

She landed hard on the pavement, scraping her cheek, wand clattering out of her hand. The action that had been tearing along in fast motion abruptly dropped to a crawl; Tonks could see everything before it happened, felt it all in exquisite detail, but could do nothing to stop it. When she twisted back to look at her attacker, his wand was raised. It cut a graceful arc through the muggy night air. He bellowed out the incantation of the killing curse and Tonks' vision exploded with green light.

He missed.

Tonks blinked. An excessively well-timed curse had stunned the Death Eater and sent him crashing to the ground beside her. Thirty feet away, wand raised, Remus looked angrier than she had ever seen him. A scorch mark decorated the asphalt not six inches from her head. Her life had been saved by a matter of milliseconds.

Snatching her wand, Tonks bound the dark wizard with a jinx she herself had perfected. It had already proved invaluable to the Order, keeping Voldemort's henchmen immobile until they could be dealt with. Heart pounding, she straightened and locked eyes with her savior across the battlefield. He trembled.

Without a single thought as to why, Tonks took off like a shot. She sprinted the length of the distance between them, dodging curses and jumping bodies as if she had no fear. She grabbed Remus by the wrist and dragged him behind some overhanging rubble, a pitiful suggestion of cover that offered little actual protection.

He began to ask if she was okay, but Tonks didn't give him the chance. Without a word, she threw herself into a kiss – their first kiss, soul-searching and hot, hesitant and desperate. Remus went rigid with astonishment but didn't push her away, too shocked to move or too polite to reject her, Tonks wasn't sure which. She didn't care.

Tonks pulled away with triumph in her eyes.

"You're welcome," Remus said, sounding faint.

"Look," she growled, yanking him down to eye level. "You say I'm gonna live? Fine. Then I'm not living a single minute more without you."

Somehow, that was all it took. Remus stared at Tonks for one stunned, searching moment, and something in him snapped. He pulled her close and kissed her with hunger, with need and with joy, smelling of blood and tasting of fire. He kissed her like an ancient priest worshiping his idol; like he had waited eons for a single moment of screaming wartime glory. They clawed at each other, hands in hair, bodies bolted together, curses shooting past them in a brilliant crossfire. Exultation swept through Tonks. If she had known a near-death experience was the trick to destroy his iron-clad self-control, she would have toppled over in battle much earlier.

"Children!" rang out the familiar voice of Molly Weasley. When had she joined the fight? "I'm very happy for you, as I'm sure we all are, but there is a time and place!"

Tonks broke contact, paused, dove in for one more kiss and spun to get back to work. She felt invincible. She fought like a holy goddess, light in her eyes and certainty in every spell. Death Eaters turned tail and ran from her, and though the battle raged noisily around them, she could hear Remus laughing as she plunged back into the fray; her hair had somehow morphed into a halo of wild pink curls.

It wouldn't last, of course.

One inexplicable moment of grace wasn't enough to sway the werewolf's mind. They left that torn little crater of London in a haze of love, but it wasn't long before Remus would sober up. Tonks would rage, bargain, plead, reason and weep for months to come, but it would do her no good. Not until the Battle of the Astonomy Tower would Remus find the strength to follow wherever it was she intended to lead them. But as Andromeda would one day remark to her wide-eyed grandson, Tonks' patronus was never quite the same after the skirmish in Piccadilly.

"What's that mean, Gram?" Teddy would ask.

"It means your father was Dora's best memory."

And Teddy would smile.