DisclaimerRowling's, not mine. Also the line from the song The Last Night embedded in the dialogue is Bon Jovi's, not mine.
The Last Night
"The Burrow?"
"The Burrow. I know it doesn't have half the protective whatnot this place has, but we have precious little choice seeing as Severus" – Mr. Weasley's voice hardened at the name – "knows about Number Twelve. He could've told You-Know-Who where to find the Order by now – "
"I thought Moody'd taken care of that," said Tonks, her lime green eyebrows rather spoiling the effect of her thoughtful expression.
"If Snape comes back," growled the Auror. "If he hasn't ratted on us yet, if we don't have Death Eaters already waiting on our doorstep – and each if's one too many, Remus. We have to move."
"I recognize that, Alastor. And, Arthur, it's not the protective whatnot." Lupin allowed himself a small smile at the term. "I am merely expressing concern that, well, your family lives there. I know you and Molly are willing to help the Order in any way you can, but isn't this too much?"
"We know the risks, Remus. And if it's the children you're worried for, Charlie and Bill are in the Order, so are Fred and George, and they're willing. Eager for it, if anything. And Ron and Ginny, well, maybe they're a sight more grown up than we want to realize. They are, Molly. Not to mention that when the Order settles in, the Burrow'll be the safest place for them to be." Arthur grinned. "If you ask me, it's you lot as should be asking to move in."
"You're absolutely sure?" asked Kingsley Shacklebolt from down the table.
"Yes."
"All in favor of moving the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix to the Burrow?"
"Aye." The word was said near unison.
"That's the last thing on the agenda," said Professor McGonagall, touching her wand to a roll of parchment in front of her. "Security arrangements are to be as previously agreed upon. We can consider this meeting adjourned."
The parchment went up in quiet, blue flames.
"Wait," Remus cut in. "Please, a toast to Sirius? This was his house after all, however much he hated it. And" – the werewolf suddenly seemed more tired and worn – "this is the last meeting we will ever hold here." The last thing he will be able to do for us, he wanted to add, but didn't trust himself to speak.
The members of the Order raised their glasses – Shacklebolt had provided a bottle of firewhisky earlier – and murmured, "Sirius Black."
They began to leave after that. Remus wasn't really aware of the goodbyes, the hastily whispered confirmations and last-minute tweakings of plans, or Tonks's assuring Mrs. Weasley that yes, they would clean up, don't worry about us, hadn't you better be going before Arthur gets distracted by that bizarre Muggle mailbox next door?
"Right," she said, turning to Remus once everybody was gone. "I wash, you dry."
It was quiet work. The kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld place was silent except for the occasional clink of china on china or the scrape of the scouring pad on a particularly encrusted pan. Not even Kreacher was around to provide the usual background noise of festering mutterings.
"Don't you think it's strange that everybody says 'aye' when asked to agree on things?" said Tonks suddenly. "Like we all, without any planning, just decide to speak archaic?"
"Mmm."
"You're mooning again."
Lupin looked at her, almost letting the plate he was holding slip. "Very funny."
"Well, haha, then. What's eating you?"
"I was under the impression that werewolves were at the top of the food chain."
"Who's being funny now?"
Remus smiled, genuinely. He appreciated talking, simply being with Tonks more than he could say. More than was proper, he reminded himself. More than he should. He went back to wiping off the plate, pretending to be absorbed in the task. "I was just thinking."
"Too much, if you ask me."
"Well. Yes." He sighed. "I don't think we should go through with it."
Tonks's hair changed into a very, very angry shade of red to match the even angrier face underneath. "You aren't backing out on me, are you?"
"Please, Tonks, understand, I don't want you hurt." They'd been through this a thousand times, always the same argument, and always, always, Lupin felt there was no way he could win, not between hurting Tonks now, clumsily severing the connection when she was the most precious thing in the world to him – the only thing, what with his friends dead and Dumbledore gone – or hurting her, seeing her hurt later as she would inevitably be, tied to something like him. "The Death Eaters'll be after your blood for being close to one of" – he twisted his mouth in a wry smirk – "my affliction, to me in particular, I might harm you, you know how I am, it's too much to ask of you, to risk – "
She smiled, her hair going pink, throwing Lupin off balance entirely. "How many time do I have to tell you, I – don't – care. I'm tough as dragon hide, love." She put down the immense salad bowl she was soaping. "And the only way you could possibly hurt me is if you went and snogged, I don't know, Kingsley or something –"
"Nymphadora!"
"Well, something like that. Hell with all the other stuff, Remus, and stop looking at me like that."
Lupin, torn between horror at what she had suggested and wanting to tell her that she was the only person he'd ever consider snogging without making it sound too rude, let go of his plate.
"I don't deserve you," he said, feeling utterly, helplessly in love.
"And I can't think what I could've possibly done to deserve you."
Remus hadn't noticed that she had closed the distance between them - or maybe it had been him. Like so many other things, it just didn't matter.
"Like it or not, Remus J. Lupin, this is the last night you'll have to be alone."
She kissed him then, deeply, in suds up to her elbows, her hands gripping the lapels of his cloak, and his hands twining around her waist.
They quite forgot about the dishes.