Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, and I'm not making any money out of it.
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"This is an absolutely ridiculous idea Tonks."

"That's very easy for you to say, Remus, but you're not the one who has to be seen out in public with you."

Remus opened his mouth to point out the very obvious flaw in her statement. Before he could she cut him off. "Besides, no-one should be wearing tweed at your age."

"I happen to like tweed. It's very practical. Very hard wearing."

"And it makes you look about fifty. Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"Fine," he sighed, resigning himself to the worst. For some time Tonks had been trying to persuade him to allow her to give him a 'makeover.' He had adamantly protested against it for many weeks, but his resolve had been slowly weakened as her enthusiasm for the idea had grown.

"Yes!" she squealed, running up to him, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a very sloppy kiss on his cheek. "I promise that you wont regret this!"

"Hmm. Somehow I'm just not sure I should trust the fashion advice of someone who purposefully puts rips and holes in their jeans." She opened her mouth wide in mock anger, looking utterly scandalised. "But," he added hastily, "I'm a man of my word. I suppose I can't back out now."

"Damn right you can't, mister," she said as she flung the wardrobe door open. "Bloody hell, Remus, do you own anything that isn't either grey or brown?" She turned back to him and noticed that his eyes were flicking towards the door. She crossed her arms over her chest and said in an authoritative voice, "Sit down on the bed, and don't move."

With a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips he sat down on the edge of the bed they shared together and awaited his fate.

She looked at him appraisingly for a few moments, looked back into the wardrobe, then returned her gaze to him before allowing a grin to spread across her features. "Take your clothes off."

He raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said take your clothes off. How am I supposed to dress you properly when you're already wearing that stupid suit?"

He examined his own arms, legs and torso. "This is my favourite suit," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Well, you wont be needing it today. Off!" she repeated with a little more force.

Remus stripped down to his underwear and once again perched on the edge of the bed looking extremely nervous.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Ok, step number one of 'How to not be a pensioner.' Wearing a vest is not sexy. Lose it."

"But you can't see it under my clothes. Besides, it keeps me warm."

"Shut up, Mr Practical. I don't care if it's won the Nobel Prize for Literature. It's the sort of thing my Grandad wears and not something my sex-god boyfriend wears. Take it off."

"I hardly think of myself as your 'sex-god' boyfriend."

"That," she replied, with vastly exaggerated patience, "is because you're wearing a vest. Take it off and stand up for me."

Feeling slightly vulnerable he stood before her wearing nothing but his pale blue boxers.

She looked him up and down, frowning slightly before determinedly pulling out her wand and waving it towards his underwear. Immediately they changed; the colour changed from blue to white, the thin cotton became slightly heavier, everything shrunk to become much more figure hugging, the words 'Clavin Klein' were emblazoned across a band at the top.

"Merlin's beard!" gasped Remus as the soft material clamped down around him.

"Turn around," she said, greatly admiring her handiwork. As he did she commented, "Well, I think you've just taken your first step towards sex-godliness. Congratulations."

"Thankyou. I think."

"Ok, next step, trousers."

"Tonks? I don't want you to make me look ridiculous alright?" She had taken his tweed suit and was already beginning to transfigure it into other items of clothing. "And if I'm honest, I'd much prefer it if you'd use something else. I've told you already; that's my favourite suit."

"Not at the moment it isn't," she replied, looking at the jeans, t-shirt and jacket she had transfigured the suit into. Before he could protest she added, "Oh, you'll get it back, don't worry." She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "And I'm not going to make you look like a tit either. Just... even better than you usually do." She waved her wand at the jeans, altering them slightly. "Try those."

They fit him extremely well – tighter at the top, slightly flared in the leg. She once again asked him to turn around, and whistled appreciatively at the sight of his pert backside in the tight trousers. "Nice. Very nice."

"They're a little... tight."

"Never mind, eh? You've most certainly taken another step away from pensioner-dom towards god-hood."

She now turned her attention to the grey flannel shirt that she had transfigured into a plain white t-shirt. She She shook her head slightly and waved her wand over it; it instantly became a black, long-sleeved t-shirt with words 'Pearl Jam' across the front in faded red.

"Pearl Jam?" he asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Muggle band I like," she replied, holding the shirt up in front of him. "Put it on then." He took it from her feeling highly doubtful. Tonks, on the other hand, looked positively full of glee. "Perfect," she said, her eyes alight. "just a couple of finishing touches"

Remus now noticed that his favourite jacket was no longer a jacket at all, but a short sleeved, retro style shirt. He let out a very deep, heart felt sigh.

"What is it?" asked Tonks as she handed him the shirt.

"You said you weren't going to make me look ridiculous."

"And I'm not. Put this on over the top. You'll look gorgeous, i promise. Oh, and I'll need your shoes. You can't wear old brogues with this, especially ones where the uppers are coming away from the soles." In an instant she handed him a pair of black and white trainers which she assured him were 'adidas classics' and would finish the outfit off perfectly.

Once he was fully dressed she grinned at him. "Wotcher handsome," she laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You look great."

"I'll believe it when I see it," he said moving towards the wardrobe and opening the door in order to look at himself in the full length mirror. He caught his reflection for a few seconds, shook his head and turned away. "Tonks. You've done precisely what I feared. You've made me look like a middle aged man pretending to be a teenager." He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

"I suppose you're right, in a way. But I know how to rectify that. I'll have to cut your hair."

"What?!"

"And we're going to have to lose your moustache."

"I don't believe you!"

"Oh, shut up complaining Remus. Trust me!"

"I did, until about five minutes ago. Besides, I've had my moustache for years, you're asking me to shave it off on a pure whim."

"Absolutely. Change is good. That's why you love me so much."

"No."

"Alright, I'll shave it for you."

"No."

Tonks then pulled out her wand. "You're forgetting, Remus John Lupin, that I am an auror. That gives me certain privileges. It also, by default, makes me one of the most powerful witches in the country. Do you really want to make me ask you again?"

He threw his arms up in the air. "Alright! Alright! You win!" She squealed again and started dancing round the room. "But there's really no need for you to celebrate your victory quite like that. I find it quite obscene." He was only half serious, a smile had reappeared in the corner of his mouth.

Five minutes later he emerged from the bathroom, sans moustache. He kept running his fingers over his top lip. "I feel really quite naked. I hope you're proud."

"Very," she said, than added in an undertone, "And don't worry, the naked bit comes later."

"What, when you've finished torturing me?"

"If that's how you like to call it, then yes."

"Ok, hurry up and finish then," he said, marveling at how the young witch was able to bring out the Marauder in him that he thought had died years ago.

"Oooh, being impatient now, are we?" She ran her fingers through his hair, than said very definitely. "Ok, the first thing that has to go is the side parting. It does you no favours at all."

She placed a cutting charm on his hair, making him worry as he saw the amount that was falling down around his shoulders and on to the floor. "What's that stuff?" he asked as he noticed she was dunking her fingers in to what looked like a tub of mucus.

"Just a bit of wax," she said with no extra explanations, leaving Remus feeling highly dubious. A couple of minutes later she stood back from her creation and called out, "Ta-da!"

Nervously Remus stood up and crossed to the mirror. He was pleasantly surprised at what he saw. His hair was now, she assured him, cut in a style that she labelled as 'choppy.' It made a great deal of difference to his face, making him look several years younger. "Well?" she asked him, her voice full of expectation.

He smiled at her. "Alright. You win. But the clothes are ridiculous. I want my suit back."

"You still don't like the clothes? Well, the only solution I see is to get you out of them as quickly as possible."

"That," he said, with a look of genuine relief, "is the best idea you've had all day!"