Midnight

It had been, Remus thought, an interesting evening. Arthur had just come back from St. Mungo's, completely healed. They had expected to come into the kitchen, talking excitedly as Molly prepared an excellent feast. Instead, they had burst into the kitchen to see a spectacular argument between Sirius and Snape. Molly, making no mention of the argument that clearly nearly came to blows, made a spectacular dinner. Her disapproval of Sirius' actions, however, were felt by the unfortunate pots and pans that slammed louder than normal. She had also gone to bed early, ushering Harry, Hermione, Ron, and everyone else with her out of the kitchen. Everyone except Sirius, Remus, and Tonks.

Remus had told Molly that he'd take of Sirius, who had developed a new habit of turning to a bottle of Firewhiskey, or wine, or anything that Dung could get his hands on when upset. Tonks had offered to help settle Sirius. It had often been the pair of them trying (unsuccessfully) to raise Sirius' spirits. But the only thing that Sirius wanted these days was Firewhiskey to drive him into sweet oblivion, to make him forget Azkaban, forget that he was stuck in his mother's house, forget everything except his memories of the good old days.

"Yeah," said Sirius, his words slurring slightly, "Fancied myself in love. Kathleen was certainly the most entertaining of my girlfriends, the adventurous sort. Brilliant, you know, at Quidditch too."

Tonks, who had been laughing at Sirius' amusing tale of nearly being caught in the broomstick closet by McGonagall and Filch, looked confused. Remus supposed that she had only now realized that Sirius had told the tale without a crucial piece of information—the name of his beloved paramour. Catching Remus' eye, she mouthed, "Kathleen Who?" But Remus did not need to answer her.

"Kathleen Moran," said Sirius dreamily, eyes drooping, "We were so brilliant together."

Tonks' mouth fell open in shock. "You dated Kathleen Moran? The Kathleen Moran? Lead Chaser of the Irish national team?"

Sirius turned swiftly to look at Tonks, who was on his right, as if he was seeing her for the first time in a long time. The movement caused him to sway ominously towards the table. Then he said, his words slurring again, "So she did become a famous Quidditch player after all, then? Bully for her! Bloody brilliant, she was."

Sirius took a giant swig of Firewhiskey. Remus thought that he had better take Sirius up to bed before he crashed out right on the table. The last thing any of them would want is for Harry to come down looking for a midnight snack, only to see Sirius passed out. He got up to heave Sirius up by the arm, when Sirius waved an arm at him.

"Don't let him let you think that I'm the one with all the dirty laundry, Tonks? Remus here's got stories that'll sweep Prince Charming off his golden horse."

Remus stopped. The mere memory of it made him stop cold. Sirius could not, would not. He had promised. Sirius and James both had.

"I think you've had enough, Padfoot," he said, hoping against hope that Sirius would remember somehow of his promise.

Sirius grunted as he stood, using the table for support. The table groaned under Sirius' weight and Remus rather thought that it might break, but all his worries remained with Sirius. He couldn't tell, wouldn't tell….He especially couldn't tell Tonks…. Remus went to help Sirius walk from the room with the intention of discreetly reminding Sirius of his promise, but Sirius waved him away.

"You're right, Moony, as always," said Sirius, sighing. "I'm off. 'Night good, Tonks."

Tonks and Remus laughed as Sirius headed first left of the door, then right, finally making it out of the door. If they hadn't seen Sirius walk himself up to his room in such a way several times before, they might have been worried. As it was, however, Remus could feel only relief that Sirius hadn't told Tonks. Whether that was because he remembered his promise or not, he didn't know.

"So," said Tonks, bumping his shoulder playfully, "What's your dirty laundry?"

"A little of this and a little more of that," he replied evasively. "I think that Sirius has managed to tell enough of my tales that we can leave the worst of them well enough alone."

"That bad, huh?" asked Tonks. "You can't tell even me."

"Right."

"Remus," Tonks wheedled as she grasped his hand. "You know I wouldn't tell anyone….I wouldn't even laugh."

If the memory didn't make Remus blush to this day, he might have considered it. They had become close over the last few months, closer than Remus had ever dreamed, and still he dreamed for more. But he couldn't, he shouldn't, he thought, as he untangled his hand from hers. He was dangerous, too dangerous, too old, and too poor.

"It wasn't a laughing matter," he muttered, fighting the blush that he knew was coming. There was nothing so embarrassing as this, he thought. A grown man blushing like a green teenager.

"Is that a blush?" asked Tonks laughing.

"No," he said mutinously as his face betrayed him. Then, trying to turn the tables on her, he said, "Well, Sirius has spilled just about all of my dirty laundry and his, for that matter. What about you? Where's your dirty laundry?"

Tonks stopped laughing immediately and started determinedly at the table. Remus was relieved, but now, intensely curious. It was not possible that her secrets, her tales of broomstick closets and mystifying escapes from the professors at Hogwarts could be any more embarrassing than his or Sirius' tales.

"Spill the beans, Tonks," he said triumphantly, fighting to keep his smirk from showing. "It's only fair."

Fidgeting with her hands beneath the table, she looked at Remus. Then she said in a voice higher than normal, "I don't have any dirty laundry."

She was blushing. Remus would as soon believe her as he would that Dung wasn't selling most of the garbage that they had thrown out over the summer. He wondered why she felt that she couldn't tell him. Probably she didn't trust him enough. After all, how much of each other did they really know?

"I get it," he said roughly. "You don't have to tell me."

"No," she said, her voice tight. "It's not what you're thinking. It's not that I can't tell you."

Remus raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

Tonks took a shuddering deep breath. "I can't tell you my dirty laundry, Remus, because I don't have any."

Absolute bullocks! Anything, Remus thought, would have been better than hearing that. It was such an obvious lie that he didn't even know how to reply. She went to Hogwarts, didn't she? What ex-Hogwarts student could honestly say that they never visited the Astronomy tower after hours or had to dash back to their rooms to avoid being caught by McGonagall or some other strict faculty member.

They stared at each other. Remus was sure that Tonks could see his disbelief in his face, but for once he didn't care that his emotions were bared for her to see. He was hurt, deeply hurt, that she couldn't tell him. If she didn't want to tell him, that was fine, but to tell him an outright lie?

"That's all right," he said finally. "I think I'm going to make sure that Sirius is all right."

"Remus," began Tonks.

"That's all right," he repeated. His tone brooked no argument. Tonks seemed to understand that he didn't want to talk about it. She nodded.

"See you on New Year's then?" she said, feebly.

Remus nodded, his words catching in his throat. He walked out of the kitchen, leaving Tonks standing alone in the kitchen.

It was fifteen minutes until the New Year when Molly Weasley asked Tonks to bring some more champagne—just in case they ran out.

"Of course, Molly," said Tonks cheerfully.

Remus heard her bound towards the kitchen. He considered hiding for a moment. He and Tonks had not had a moment alone since that fateful night. On the whole, he supposed he should congratulate himself. He had very nearly allowed himself to become selfish enough to think that he and Tonks….but it was an endless dream and a useless torment. He had long ago resolved to never look back, never ask himself "what if" because those thoughts only ended in pain and heartache.

There was a crash; he looked up. Tonks had slipped on the rug that Molly had placed outside of the kitchen. She was lying there, adorable in her annoyance.

"Bloody rug," she muttered, huffily standing up. She froze.

So much for escaping, he thought to himself wryly.

"I was just going—Molly sent me to—I mean I came to get the—the champagne," she said. Remus noticed that her eyes were darting around the room, looking everywhere, but him.

"Right," he said, awkwardly standing up. "I was just—ahem, just going back out to join—"

"I've never been kissed."

"I'll just be—what?"

"I've never been kissed," she repeated in a small voice. She seemed hesitate, so unlike the Tonks that Remus knew, that he briefly wondered if she were an imposter. "That's why I don't have any, erm, dirty laundry."

Steadily, Remus looked at her. She couldn't be an imposter; if anything, Mad-Eye would have spotted her out, right quick. Plus he had seen her change her nose into Ginny's favorite pig nose for laughs earlier during dinner. His thoughts seemed to race ahead of him. She couldn't be lying, not with that forlornly uncertain look on her face. If this was Tonks, which it must be…this left one option, but it couldn't be…

"What do you mean 'never been kissed'?"

"I mean, I've never been kissed," she said. She was frowning now. Clearly she was wondering where he was going with such a question with such an obvious answer. But it was not an obvious answer.

"Well, yeah, I heard, but I mean—well, I mean I suppose I'm asking how. How does a girl like you never…?"

Tonks seemed to gather her spirit and anger. "A girl like me, Remus? What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It's nothing personal," he assured her quickly. Briefly he wondered how he always managed to put his foot in his mouth, especially whenever he was talking to Tonks. "Just meant, I mean it sounds like, err, like there's a story."

He pulled a chair out for her. She sank into the chair gratefully, all thoughts of Molly's extra bottle of champagne clearly forgotten. She said nothing for a moment and Remus wondered privately if she would speak, if she even wanted to talk about it. He was seeing a side of Tonks that he had never seen before. She was, as Snape had put it, "annoyingly chipper" except of course, he did not find her annoying. Tonks was the bright light of the Order, a never-ending fountain of youth, a breath of fresh air. Sadness, fear, despair….those were feelings that he never thought, never dreamed Tonks ever felt. And yet, clearly she was sitting here in front of him, slumped in the chair.

"Blokes at Hogwarts…and I suppose outside Hogwarts, just simply weren't attracted. I think it's because I'm too…too me," she said faltering as she spoke. She stared at the table. She looked at though she thought that she had said too much. She didn't seem to want to say any more than that, but it was not a statement that made any sense to Remus.

Remus smiled. "Too you? And how does that stop any guy from ever wanting to not kiss you?"

Tonks did not look up, did not smile, and, for a moment, didn't reply. She took a deep breath as she set down her mug. Remus had a feeling he was about to here something that she had never told anyone. He felt a rush of delight. That she would tell him, trust him, meant more to him than she could ever know.

"I'm not a girl," she began. Before Remus could object, she held up a hand. "Technically, I am, but blokes don't see me as one. When I first came to Hogwarts, I was a tomboy, never into that girly stuff."

"That doesn't make you a girl," Remus interrupted dryly.

"No, it doesn't," agreed Tonks. "But then I grew up and I wanted—" She sighed and ran a agitated hand through her pink hair (which he had noticed was quite a bit longer that her customary spiky style) before continuing—"wanted more….and I couldn't. I was too much like them. No one ever thought…ever considered that I—that I might want—"

"More," finished Remus gently. He was looking at her, but not seeing her. It was like reliving his own years at Hogwarts, watching James leave the common room with Lily or Sirius chasing down some Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. No one had ever considered that he might—not that he would've agreed, being a werewolf and fully aware of how much that complicated his life.

"But after Hogwarts," he said, prompting her after a minute of bleak silence. "Surely then…"

"Have you ever been to Auror School, Remus? Everyone looks like they did the week before they took their N.E.W.T.s—except that they look like that for three years. And in any case, it's not like I was the cream of the crop."

Remus chuckled, remembering his own disheveled appearance during N.E.W.T.s. James had told him that he looked like he had been forced to duel the Whomping Willow right after eating a stoat sandwich. He imagined that Auror School was not the ideal place to meet a special someone. It was not until his amusement at the picture she had painted died that he realized that she was quiet.

She looked as though she'd rather like to cry.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he asked, "Would you like a moment alone?"

She shook her head and took a step forward. "I don't want you to leave, Remus," she said softly.

Her eyes were filled with unspent passion. And it dawned on Remus the reason why she had told him, and not Sirius or a dozen others. He wondered if she had guessed at his feelings or if she simply knew that he had felt more than friendship for her for a long time, that he had been mooning over her for ages. Whichever it was, he thought it was a brave thing to do to bare her heart, her soul to him. He had never admired her more.

In the distance, he heard Sirius shout to begin the countdown to midnight. They stared at each other. Each drinking in the expression of the other, wondering if they could…if they should….Remus could hear the countdown beginning in the drawing room upstairs.

"Ten…Nine…."

He shouldn't, he thought. It was something that he could never take back.

"Five…."

But what a way to bring in the New Year, he thought. Wistfully, he gazed into her eyes. And it was tradition, he reasoned.

"Three…."

Time seemed to stop. Then, as if in a dream, he stretched his hands out towards her so that they were just above her hair. She didn't back away, but she didn't move either. Her clear, straightforward gaze was his undoing.

"Oh, Nymphadora…." He said, his voice cracking slightly. She smiled slightly.

He slid his hands down her hair to her shoulders and drew her to him. As her arms embraced him, he pulled her closer, feeling her, glorying the scent that was wholly and uniquely her, tangling his hands in her bright colored hair and their short, uneven breaths mingled.

"One."

And in that minuscule half-second, the only sound that could be heard was their two hearts, beating as one.

"Happy New Year!"

Amid the claps and cheers from the room above, he kissed her. For a moment, Tonks seemed frozen, then she melted into his kiss. Every inch of her was intoxicating.

A lock of hair fell, flopping against her cheek. Murmuring with distress, Tonks batted it aside ineffectually. With a low chuckle, he brushed it aside for her, touching his lips to the exposed corner of her jaw. She arched her neck, granting him better access. She gasped as he kissed the sensitive skin above her collarbone. Then, slowly, he kissed his way back to her mouth.

Warm, soft, and inviting, her lips matched his. Her lips were soft and supple, making him instantly hot and cold at the same time. In his arms, he felt her shiver, and he wondered if she felt the same sense of uncontainable heady pleasure that he did. Regret washed over him. He had stolen her first kiss. If she did not feel the same way about him as he did for her, he would never forgive himself. One should always remember with fondness one's first kiss….

He tried to pull away from her altogether, but she wouldn't let him. Then slowly, her arms snaked around him, reaching his hair. Inwardly he winced. The endless grasping and tugging of his hair never sat well with him. He had an unusually sensitive head of hair. But Tonks' caress could only be described as wildly pleasant…They clung to each other, willing the feeling of immense contentment and love for the other in their embrace.

There were quick footsteps clanging down the stairs. Both Remus and Tonks heard it at the same time. They sprang apart, each looking slightly dazed. The door flew open with a drunken clang. It was Sirius.

"What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," said Tonks, her voice high. It was clear that Sirius believed her no more than he believed that his mother loved chirruping birds and angels. He turned to Remus, but Remus spread his arms out innocently.

"Absolutely nothing," he said.

Sirius remained unconvinced, but Remus ignored him. He held out a hand for Tonks, and grinning from ear to ear, she grabbed his hand. And they walked to the drawing room to begin a new year that would surely be filled with happiness together.

This story kind of attacked me in the middle of the holiday festivities and forced me to do its bidding. I hope you enjoyed it and that you have a happy New Year!! Wishing you lots of laughter, love, and Harry Potter,

The Hogwartian