It had been several hours since the family and friends gathered for dinner at 12 Grimmauld Place parted ways — for street, for work, for bed. But Remus Lupin was still wide awake, staring at a well-worn book in the ornate library room. Approximately 4 hours earlier Molly Weasley had given up trying to persuade Remus to abandon, well, whatever it was he thought he was doing, and get some rest. Even Molly had to let it be and just shrug her shoulders at the warm but self-guarded werewolf; but not before she brought Remus a blanket to drape over his own shoulders ('that isn't necessary, Molly, but thank you' 'Hmph!' Molly observed) and a cup of his favorite tea ('please get some sleep yourself, Molly; no need to waste the tea on my ill had habits.' At this, Molly just about rolled her eyes). So now it was 3:30 in the morning and Remus sat staring blankly at his book, all alone, for it had been nearly an hour since he had given up all pretense at concentrating on the argument of Spinoza's Ethics, the part 'On Human Bondage' (Remus had a penchant for Muggle philosophy). He wasn't sure why at this particular moment he had turned to Spinoza, his favorite philosopher, when he was in the middle of a book by Nietzsche, but he knew if only instinctively that Spinoza was entirely fitting for then and…always.
Spinoza was a philosopher for challenging emotions. Love was a most challenging emotion indeed.
Remus knew it was not healthy what he was doing, but the pain was so intense he could hardly help himself. He was doing something he had never done before and hoped never to do again, and that was to wait for his beloved by the door like a lonely child, or sad puppy, to wait for her to come home. To make sure she got home safely, he told himself, still chagrined, but then a more deeply burrowed voice in him sounded, and with it his humiliation intensified: 'no,' it said, 'to make sure that she is yours, even without your ever having had her.'
His eyes strained, Remus bent backwards his tall, lean frame pushing against his chair. He kicked out his feet and threw back his head; noticing the light in the adjacent hallway bathroom flicker off, Remus smelled before he actually saw Sirius Black step into the room.
Sirius reeked of alcohol. He was still recovering from last night's bender, which Remus had tried, with some success in fact, to transform from a moping to a merry occasion for his friend. On his way back up the stairs, Sirius nonetheless sleepily and half-drunkenly approached Remus and kissed his forehead. Mumbling, he took one of Remus's hands in his, as Remus smiled, wearily: 'Moony…stop this mooning over this…flighty…pink…flighty…what's the…the the the…the word?' 'Uh, woman?' 'Flighty thing! That's it. Stop mooning the flighty pink and just go to sleep. No woman is worth your tears…cry over me instead, love.' Remus's smile broadened. 'Sirius. I do cry over you too. As much as I am capable of crying, that is. And we have not agreed that I am crying now in the first place, let alone crying over a woman.' 'Over THAT woman…that woman…my cousin. I know, I know.' Sirius grinned, drunk but not stupid. 'I know you, Remus.' He began stumbling back upstairs. 'I know you. Listen, mate, let's talk tomorrow. We will cure you yet of this…wasting away over…she'll come to you…she will…just…don't cry. Women. The pink ones. They hate it, mate. Hate it. Worse than me.' 'Good night, Sirius. I'll make you something good for breakfast tomorrow.' Halfway up the stairs now, Remus figured, he heard his friend call out in a strained but cheery whisper 'Oh no…I don't expect to be able to keep a breakfast appointment. But you can make me a nice midnight snack. I'll be…'specting that from you…'
Seeing that even Sirius was sleeping off his burdens — which were way heavier than Remus's, he thought — Remus contemplated just giving up his fools' errand, and thought to apparate back to his flat, when he heard the 'pop' of an apparition just outside the door, and a few seconds later someone tripping over the troll's foot on the umbrella holder. A sure sign. 'Damn it!' he heard Tonks swear. Remus couldn't help himself. He stepped out into the hallway, just in time to see Tonks look up from dusting herself off. She was accompanied by an uncharacteristically giddy looking Fleur, whose short but elegant baby blue dress was the latest in Parisian couture. Fleur saw Remus slightly before Tonks did, and Remus thought he saw her sharply inhale, then conceal a giggle. 'Tonks, zat vas so much fun. Even zhough zose Muggles do not know anything about ze drinking; why iz it all so crude with them, eh? Vell. I zee you tomorrow, yes? Bisou!' Fleur kissed Tonks hurriedly, once on each cheek, and then, with a barely detectable wink at Tonks, apparated before her friend could say a word.
As he usually did when he didn't have a clue as to what to say, which was almost every time he saw Tonks these days, Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the woman he had been waiting for, without a plan. Tonks stared at him staring at her. First, she seemed shocked and unsure. Remus looked away, and hung his head in the beginnings of shame. But when he looked up again, he was surprised — pleasantly — and, to his alarm, even a bit aroused, to see Tonks smiling at him mischievously. He had even less to say then, so he did the only thing he knew how just then: he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and bent his head further down and away.
'Remus…I…' Tonks took quite a few steps closer so that she was now directly in front of him. 'I didn't expect to see you until next week.' 'Oh, yes, well, I could go, I should go. I was going, in fact, just now.' Tonks's face fell. 'Why? I just got here. The least you could do is not run away screaming.' He looked at her quickly, and he saw that, though her voice was sad, her face was mischievous again. He felt a tug, or several, in various places in his heart and body. 'Oh. Uh. Right.' He looked away from her again. Tonks, he felt it, was looking at him up and down, slowly, amused, perhaps…or annoyed…he wasn't sure. 'Remus…' He loved hearing her say his name, loved it more than he'd ever admit to himself except while it was happening. This time she said it so softly, even tenderly. He couldn't help himself. He looked up, and into her eyes. Instantly, he knew why he always kept his eyes trained on the ground and his hands thrust deep in his pockets, at moments like this. For when he looked at her he could not look away.
Tonks was flushed from a night of dancing, her cheeks and lips vibrant with health. She was wearing a whimsical white dress, with a corset-style bodice and a flouncy multi-tiered skirt. The dress fit her perfectly except in the bust, and her breasts were pressed a little too tightly against the dress, which created a most, er, becoming effect. On Tonks's feet, however, were her usual olive-green Doc Martens, which somehow grounded the ethereal and feminine frock and made the look unique to her…She wore pink and yellow costume jewelry that, though gaudy, screamed pure joy, and her hair was a gorgeous smokey grey-blue, worn with a 60s flair, short bangs, flowing in beautiful waves just below her shoulders. To top it all off, she wore a dollar store tiara, charmed to flash pink, blue, and violet, Tonks's favorite colors. She was a mess of a woman with a mess of a style. And Remus adored it, every bit of her exuberant self-expression.
Tonks laughed, forcing Remus out of his reverie. 'Wotcher, Remus. Watcha staring at, you git?' She hit his arm. 'Oh, uh, nothing, nothing. Excuse me.' He turned and walked back into the library, and began to gather his books. Tonks trailed him.
'Is that it?! Is that all I get?!' 'Get? I'm sorry, I don't understand.' 'Oi. Never mind…' She handed Remus the book he just dropped, and the one he dropped after that too ('someone's getting their period, looks like!'), and then in effect blocked his exit from the library. 'Stay, Remus. What are you doing up so late anyway?' 'Oh, I was doing some recreational reading.' 'Recreational reading?' 'Yes.' 'Philosophy? Spinoza again?' 'Yes.' 'Ah! Ah ha!' 'What?' 'Well, you usually read Spinoza most intensely when you get withdrawn and moody.' He chuckled softly. 'Do I, Nymphadora?' 'Remus…don't call me that…' But she hit him on the arm playfully, again, and laughed as she said it. His heart fluttered in spite of himself.
'Were you, um. Remus. Were you, um. Well, why aren't you at home? Wherever that is…' 'I, uh, I…I wanted to see that you got home safe.' 'Oh! How chivalrous of you! Not to mention super sexist. I mean, mate, a woman can take care of herself. Especially when she's got a friend like Fleur. That girl can put your eye out and not just with her looks, I'm telling you. Don't underestimate…' 'I've no doubt any friend of yours is courageous and…up to all appropriate standards.' 'Ya do, do ya?' 'Why, yes. Why not?' 'You're a lot more confident in my judgment than my mum is.' 'Oh.' Remus wasn't sure it was good she was comparing him to her mum. Besides which he didn't think that was entirely fair. Tonks was 29, he was 40. Not quite old enough to be her parent. Though too old to be her boyfriend, he was sure.
Then somehow he said it. He didn't mean to, but it just came out. He felt panic the second the words escaped his lips. 'Did you have a good time with Jason, then? He didn't come in with you…' Tonks looked at him sharply, then with a softening curiosity. 'As a matter of fact, I did. I mean he's not the brightest crayon, plus he's a little waxy, but ya know, in a pinch. He does know how to dance, I'll give him that.' 'Oh.' Remus's face fell. 'Well. As I said. I'll be going now.' 'No you won't.' 'Pardon me?' 'Listen, Lupin, I'm tired of this bullshit. Do you want me or not?'