A/N: Sometimes FF is awesome because of what you read; sometimes it's awesome because of who you meet. Since I joined FF in 2005, I have made 3 REALLY close friends, one of them even staying at my house on a road trip. However, joining the HP universe (no, really, I'm legitimately the absolute last person on the planet to jump on board this train) has had the added bonus of introducing me to a friend who is basically…my spirit animal. As we've exchanged info and stories about our lives, the similarities are actually EERIE (sleeping on couch after the first date, anyone? :D), and I just couldn't be more grateful to have another kindred spirit in my life. (Also…weird names for kids suck, amiright?). So, I dedicate this little Remadora fic to you, emcnary, and I hope you enjoy it, my dear friend! Hopefully it will tide you over until you can see the doctor again. ;) Muah!

She held her groom's hands, and she remembered.

He'd proposed—beautifully, of course—how else could someone as lovely as Remus propose? But his singular condition for marriage was that she sit through one transformation with him, so that she would know the truth. It would be a transformation via wolfsbane, of course—he would never put her in such danger as to be near him in a transformation without wolfsbane—but she would still get the gist of what he went through every month.

It had been a complete nightmare for her.

He'd warned her, tried to prepare her. Sirius had helped even more, telling her in no uncertain terms precisely how brutal and excruciating transformation was for Remus. He'd assured her it was absolutely nothing like her morphing, or his assuming his animagus form. He'd implored her to imagine what it was like to have every muscle, every ligament, every bone, brutally broken in a short few moments of transformation, only to endure the reverse a few hours later.

Tonks had nearly vomited on Sirius' shoes as he explained. But, despite her inner feelings, she held it (and her stomach) together, and managed the visitation with her cousin without embarrassing herself.

The transition itself, however? No. She couldn't go so far as to say she'd embarrassed herself, because frankly, she'd been too traumatized to think of anything so banal as embarrassment, but in looking back, yes, her reaction to the transition had probably been what anyone would call humiliating.

Her stress levels had risen as she'd watched her love's reaction to the rapidly approaching moonrise—she watched him, clearly in agony, as he'd clenched his jaw against the pain and the coming transformation. He'd told her ahead of time that it was his body's natural instinct to fight the change, inevitable though he knew it was. And the fact that fighting it made the pain even more unbearable made no difference; he was powerless against it.

They'd been ensconced in his room at Grimmauld Place, the door secured with a locking charm and a silencing spell for good measure; she had wondered after the fact if the silencing spell had been good enough to prevent her agonized wails from reaching the ears of the other residents of the old manse.

When the transformation began, she was already in tears. But as he looked at her, succumbing to the curse that he could not fight, the look on his face—agony both physical and emotional—cut her to the very most inner core of her soul.

That was nothing to what happened next.

As the transformation took him, the agonizing pain caused him to scream without ceasing. At some point the screams transformed from human to werewolf, but if she had been asked later, she could not have said when that had transpired, so complete was her trauma. She would later remember the moment that, sobbing desperately, she lost the ability to stand. She never even felt her knees hit the floor and only vaguely registered the fact that she was on the floor when she realized she was at eye level with him once more. She heard every horrifying snap of bone and then suffered through his resulting scream of pain, and she swore that if she could, she would go through the agony in his stead, because watching this—powerless and helpless to bring him relief—was too much for her tender Hufflepuff heart. It did not occur to her in her frenzied state that Remus would sooner undergo the transformation every day for the rest of his life than to watch her suffer through it even once.

She knew her pain tolerance was high—Aurors had to undergo the Cruciatus and Imperious curses as a required part of their training regimen so as to know exactly why the Unforgivable curses were, well, unforgivable—but she now suspected that her pain tolerance was probably laughable compared to Remus'. However, it was the horrifying realization that followed which caused her to collapse forward onto her hands as the most violent sobs yet wracked her body.

Remus had endured this every single month since he was four years old.

How had his parents borne it?

How could any parent bear watching their precious child in such agony?

And although he had made his reasoning abundantly clear, she suddenly understood—truly understood—for the first time, why he had set this condition.

He needed her to understand—in fact, not simply theory—what she was getting into.

He needed her to see.

After being vehemently opposed to the idea of marriage for so very long in fear of what it might cost her, he had finally relented and approached every aspect of the idea with the same tender care and immaculate attention to which he gave everything.

And as her sobs, anxiety, and heartbreak finally grew so great that she found herself retching her dinner onto the floor in front of her, she knew the truth—it didn't change a damn thing. This man was her everything, and she would still give herself, wholly, fully to him, come what may.

OoOoO

It had been long before his proposal and her first time seeing him transition that she had told him—her frankness belying her extreme anxiety—that she had, in fact, never been intimate with a man. She knew that, at 22, she was somewhat of a rarity, but the truth of the matter was that sheer fear had kept her from taking that step. Her status as a Metamorphmagus had been both a blessing and a curse—a blessing in that it was just one more thing that made her a prime candidate to fulfill her dream of becoming an Auror, but a curse in that it entailed a certain amount of accompanying insecurity as she grew to learn that without fail, the males of the species would inevitably view her as an easy means to realize all of their sordid fantasies, and that, she had found, was absolutely anathema to her. She simply couldn't imagine surrendering her self-respect to the indignity of becoming the answer to some horny guy's fantasies. Absolutely not.

With Remus, however, for the first time, she found herself placing implicit trust in a man. He was so kind, so gentle, so unassuming, that it was impossible not to throw herself, completely vulnerable, at his mercy. She could not possibly conceive of him betraying the trust, the complete faith, she'd placed in him. It was, in fact, she realized, the first time she'd ever met a man she thought she could love—or trust—more than her father…and that included Albus Dumbledore, whom she absolutely adored. And that moment, she realized, was the one in which she had finally admitted, 'Oh, bloody, buggering FUCK…I am head over heels in love with this man.' And in the moment after, she had come to the realization that she owed it to him to tell him the truth. He had, after all, been overwhelmingly truthful to her about his…furry little problem, as he so laughingly called it.

And so it had happened that, the next time they were together, in the heat of the moment when he was cautiously and gently daring to progress their physical relationship by relieving her of her shirt, she found the courage (and sheer will, because, oh bloody hell his mouth felt amazing on her) to remove said lips from the nipple they were so reverently suckling, and bring his face up to meet hers.

The reflection of the fire from his Grimmauld Place bedroom danced in his eyes as she closed hers and sucked in a breath as she tried to come back to her senses. After a moment, she opened them once more to see his pale blue eyes staring into hers, full of concern. She gave him a small smile and said, "Remus, before this goes any further, there's something I need you to know about me." He looked incredulous, wondering what she could have to say that could possibly be worse than being a werewolf, for God's sake, and tried to suppress a laugh, because he could tell this was important to her.

Her courage failed her—there was a reason she hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor, she berated herself inwardly—and she couldn't quite manage to meet his eyes as she spilled it out: "Remus, I'm a virgin." It took every bit of her will to force her eyes up as she pronounced the final word of her confession, and she was genuinely at a loss to suss out the look in his eyes.

She was completely terrified of his reaction, but her inner Hufflepuff, relying on tenacity, not courage like the Gryffindors, compelled her to continue: "Let me explain. The thing is, ever since I was at school, my experience has been that once men find out that I'm a Metamorphmagus, their only thought is to find out what fantasies I can fulfill for them." She was relieved and gratified to see that Remus looked appropriately horrified and disgusted by this revelation. This propelled her on: "But, you see…" she swallowed against the weight of the admission she was about to make, "I don't remotely feel that from you. And that is why I am asking you to be my first, Remus Lupin. Because you seem to view my far-too-small breasts with reverence, not to mention the reverence that you show me in every other way." She swallowed again, and flushed red—so red that she couldn't completely succeed in morphing it away—"and I can't even conceive of you asking me to be something that I'm not. And—"she hesitated, "—the thing is, um," she closed her eyes, "I love you, and I want it to be you. I trust you." She clenched her eyes shut against the tears that were threatening, and after a moment, summoned the courage to look back up at him.

She was most certainly not disappointed.

The blue eyes she'd grown to admit that she was absolutely hot damn in love with were shining down at her, and a look of complete awe graced his face. For a moment, he said nothing. Then—

"I cannot possibly conceive of wanting to change a single thing about you, Nymphadora Tonks."

She lost the battle against her tears and felt them spill from her eyes. She gave a small sigh as Remus gently brushed them away and then followed the path of his fingers with his lips. He leaned his forehead against hers and looked deeply into her eyes. His lips moved gently against hers as he so quietly murmured, "Thank you for your trust, Nymphadora." She shivered against him as he said her name, and she would never, for the life of her, understand why the name that she loathed so much sounded so damn erotic falling from his lips, but she loved the fact that he was well-aware of what it did to her, and used it to his advantage. He continued, "It is the deepest honor I believe I've ever been given for you to ask something so sacred of me, and I need you to understand that I am content to wait as long as necessary until you are ready. And when you are," without moving his eyes from hers, he stroked the back of his fingers along her cheekbone, "I give you my word that I will be as gentle as possible, I will stop at any point that you feel uncomfortable, and perhaps most importantly, I give you my solemn promise that your pleasure will always come before my own." He punctuated his declaration with a gentle kiss, taking her lower lip between both of his. She let out a trembling breath against his lips, quivering at the power and love in his words. Before she could reply, he continued, "And I want you to know, although I plan to make it clear to you without the use of mere words, that yours are the most exquisitely perfect breasts I have ever seen." He lowered his lips back to them, and Tonks nearly came undone beneath him. Between his words, his mouth, and the thigh he had nestled between her legs, she felt as if she might climax at any moment.

"Oh, Remus…" she sighed in pleasure. She felt his erection—absolutely throbbing by the feel of it—against her hip, and she wanted to tell him that she was ready right then and there. What absolutely amazed her was the fact that he read exactly what was in her mind as he glanced up at her, and promptly but tenderly removed himself from her breast and shook his head with a kind smile.

"Not now, Nymphadora. Not yet. The decision must not be made in the heat of the moment, my dear. I love you far too much to take even the remotest of chances that we might do something you will regret."

He loved her. Oh god…

"And I suspect you are not quite ready. Not just yet," he whispered, his voice full of love and the utmost respect.

She allowed her head to loll back on Remus' pillow as she released another shaking breath. She felt his rock-hard erection still pressed against her, and she marveled at how difficult it must have been for him to put a stop to their forward momentum, and yet, his voice had betrayed none of that; all she heard in his voice was reverence and love.

Dear god, she did not deserve a man such as this.

And the bitch of it was, he was right. She wasn't ready. Not quite yet. She wanted him desperately, but she knew she needed more time to come to terms with that want, after being so guarded for so long. There was no question she was falling deeply in love with him. The issue of her readiness had absolutely nothing to do with him; this was her cross to bear, so to speak.

She gripped his neck and pulled his head down to hers until their foreheads touched, mirroring his earlier actions. "You're right," she whispered, her eyes closed, so quietly he could barely hear her. "I'm not quite ready." She dared to open her eyes and stare him down. She took a leap of faith and laid it all out. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. But yes, there are some things I need to sort out beforehand. Only I need you to know that those things have absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with me and my own insecurities. Yeah?"

Remus looked at her and saw raw vulnerability.

"I understand, Nymphadora," he whispered in a barely audible voice. "And for the record, you need never be insecure with me. I love you so."

She thought she might die there in his arms. But she knew without a doubt that he'd made the right call. They needed to wait. And she knew full well that whenever she was ready, he would settle for nothing less than making certain that it was something that was damn well worth waiting for.

OoOoO

And so it was that a month later, after hours upon hours of self-critique and self-examination and inner dialogues with herself, she let herself in to Grimmauld Place on a Friday morning, went up to his room, knocked gently, and let herself in. He was still in bed, although awake, and she was heading into work.

"Hi," she whispered shyly.

"Good morning," he drawled, looking at her lazily from beneath sleepy lashes. "What brings you here this morning, my love?"

Tonks paused.

And went for broke.

"I'm ready, Remus." Her breath hitched as she felt the magnitude of her statement resonate in the room. "I'm ready," she whispered.

Remus sat up on one elbow, his eyes keen, evaluating her.

"Are you absolutely certain, Nymphadora?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice quiet but sure.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, evaluating her, and then he said, ever so gently, "All right, Love. If you're sure." She nodded at him. He continued, "When and where would make you most comfortable?" His eyes were full of nothing but love and kindness. It was all she could do to not launch herself at him immediately.

"I trust you, Remus," she breathed. "I leave it to you. Please take the lead. It's the greatest offering of trust I can give you," she whispered.

He nodded at her. "Come here for dinner tonight?" he asked.

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

Remus tossed back his covers and swung his legs out of bed. He stood to reveal a bare chest and flannel pajama pants. She wondered how she would ever concentrate at work today with the image of his lean, toned torso burned into her mind. Remus was both amused and aroused as her eyes roved hungrily over his torso. He crossed the room to her and gently took her face in his hands. His eyes drifted closed and he tried not to shudder as he felt her small hands slide up his chest. She then stilled and his eyes snapped open as he felt her touch his shoulder.

His scar.

Her eyes were dark and pained as she ran her fingers across the bite mark with light-as-air delicacy.

"Why does it still look so fresh and raw after all of these years?" she asked, staring at it.

He pulled her chin up and looked deeply into her eyes. "It's a cursed wound, Nymphadora. They don't heal. Not fully."

He heard a small intake of air. Looking back down at the wound, she asked quietly, "Does it hurt still, then, Remus?" She looked as though she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know the answer.

He tugged her face back up and trailed kisses along her jawline until he reached her ear. He whispered, as gently as possible, "I am used to it, Nymphadora."

Her head fell forward onto his chest. He winced when, a moment later, he felt a tear roll down his bare chest. He leaned down and placed a hand on either side of her neck, pulling her face up yet again.

"Nymphadora."

His quiet murmur got her attention. She looked up at him, her big eyes wide and full of tears.

He smiled at her gently. "The pain waxes and wanes with the moon. It is not always terrible. It's not something I can ever change, so I've had no choice but to deal with it. After everything with which you have entrusted me, I would not deceive you about this. Please do not let it worry you." He pressed his lips against each damp spot on her face, caressing her tears with his lips. "Go to work," he smiled. "I will have dinner ready for you promptly at 7:00, but come over any time prior that you wish." He paused. "And remember, Nymphadora," he whispered. "You can change your mind at any time. I have no expectations other than your honesty about your readiness."

She sighed and her heart flooded with her love for him. She nodded once, firmly. "Of course. But I won't," she said, equally firmly. Remus looked down at her, gave her a lazy grin, and kissed her forehead hard.

"Go," he chuckled. "Last thing you need is Kingsley down your throat today." He pressed another soft kiss to her lips, and said quietly, "Remember, Nymphadora, I love you."

"I love you, too, Remus."

OoOoO

Tonks had absolutely no idea how she'd managed it, but she somehow survived her workday without getting fired for the criminal offense of Being a Distracted Auror. She had been too wound up with nerves and anticipation to manage eating lunch and consequently, she felt famished. She took a deep breath as she reached the Ministry apparition point, and promptly found herself outside her flat. She let herself in and leaned back against the door, breathing shakily.

She was ready. Of this, she had no doubt. She wanted this, she had made her peace with her demons, but still…she was nervous. It was only natural, right?

Setting her jaw, she set off toward her bedroom. She stripped off her clothes to get in the shower, having gotten sweaty earlier when she and Kingsley were asked by some stupid Ministry official to demonstrate dueling skills to some foreign guests in the Auror training room.

She turned the tap on and brushed her teeth as she waited for the water to warm up. But when she stepped under the hot spray of the shower a moment later, her eyes rolled back in her head. She'd had her share of steamy fantasies about Remus while in the shower, but now that the actual moment was at hand, she was finding it difficult to focus on cleaning up when there were so many erotic thoughts running through her head. Frustrated and nervous, she finally huffed out a sigh and clenched her eyes shut, willing herself to draw on her inner Auror and calm the hell down. She concentrated as if she was about to attempt a particularly difficult morph, and took a long, deep breath in through her nose. She held it for a beat, and then slowly blew it out through her mouth. Feeling marginally calmer, she grabbed her shampoo bottle and forced her thoughts to focus solely on the task at hand—getting ready for dinner.

When her shower was complete, she put on deodorant, slathered her skin in the lotion she knew Remus loved, and cast a drying charm on her hair. She morphed her hair into his favorite shade of pink, applied a minimal amount of makeup, and slipped into a pair of black cotton bikini-style knickers. She decided to tease him a bit by going braless, and she selected a slip of a dress that she knew would make said bralessness quite obvious. Once dressed, she took a deep breath and opened a drawer to retrieve the lingerie she had bought for this very occasion. She packed a small overnight bag with a change of clothes, her toothbrush, and her deodorant.

She was ready.