As it turned out, Snape had been partly right; they were to capture a creature.
"A bicorn?" Tonks asked once again, feeling rather sick.
"It really shouldn't be a problem," Remus assured her, though he didn't feel as confident as his words sounded.
Dumbledore had explained to them how, although Tonks' abilities were quite beneficial to the Order, they still needed the ability to pose as others—which was where the polyjuice potion came into play. A necessary ingredient to the potion, the essence from the tip of a bicorn, had been dwindling during Order missions—and, of course, after the constant use of the brew by one Barty Crouch, Junior the past year.
In order to capture the bicorn—a snarling, man-eating beast with the body of a beast and the face of a woman—sedate it, carve off a horn tip, and release it back into the wild, they would need to use one of them as bait.
"You've captured one of these before, haven't you?" she demanded, as they made their way toward a barren swamp where the creatures were known to be seen.
"Er—well, yes." Remus had, in fact, captured one before, for this very same purpose. Lily Evans had actually been with him on the mission. On his nineteenth birthday, they had come to this very swamp, posing as a married couple, in order to capture a bicorn.
Bicorns liked to eat any humans, really, but their favorite meal consisted of faithful husbands. Tonks didn't know it yet, but she was about to play a role that she'd likely never done before.
Dumbledore was playing the caution card after Remus and Lily were both nearly killed during the last capture. This time, he had a Metamorphagus, which was much better than a mirror.
His eyes inched over her lovely face and he sighed inwardly, wondering if his dreams would ever come to fruition. "You can always back out of this, Tonks," he said suddenly. "This can work with mirrors instead. You don't need to endanger yourself."
She snorted. "Oh, and you do? Come on, Remus. Let's just get on with it."
"So, here's what we do," Remus said, suddenly nervous. Dumbledore hadn't explained this to the young Auror. "I will take a bit of this salve and tuck it beneath my tongue, and it will make my body seem dead for all of fifteen minutes. My chest will not move; I won't even appear to be breathing."
She looked uncertain, biting her bottom lip. "Remus?"
"It isn't real," he went on briskly. "What you will need to do is act like my sobbing wife, bent over my dead body. You'll need to go on and on about what a virtuous, faithful husband I am. If not, it won't take the bait."
He paused. "This is very important, Tonks. You'll need to shift your face to mirror its face as soon as you see it. It will become entranced; it won't be able to leave its eyes from yours as long as you don't move a muscle. If you move at all, it will not hesitate to eat you."
And that's how Moody lost part of his leg—saving Lily and me from the last mission like this, he thought ruefully. But he wasn't about to tell Tonks that.
Tonks' eyes widened and she nodded. "Right. Right-o. Okay. No problem."
"I will awaken shortly, and take the horn. Once I cut it, it will fall asleep—and it should be long enough for us to escape." He paused again. "Any hesitation at all," he implored, his eyes burning into hers, "any movement, and you send a patronus immediately and get the hell out of here."
"What about you?" Tonks was grasping his arms tightly now, pulling him close, and Merlin it was all he could do to not smell her, touch her, taste her.
"Shhh. Hear that?" Remus tensed, and the two stood achingly still as a dark, rumbling cry echoed off the black trees. "It's nearby. Quickly, get ready."
Tonks swallowed the lump in her throat. "Remus--"
He shook his head, holding a finger up to his lips. Over his shoulder, she could see the stalking shadow of a cat through the clustered trees, disfigured behind them as if half of it were transparent.
Remus dipped his fingers into the jar and coated the bottom of his tongue with the substance, immediately collapsing upon the ground.
Tonks didn't have to act. "Remus!" she screamed, falling beside his body. Grabbing his lapel desperately, she heard rustling in the distance and knew she had to be quick. "My darling husband! So faithful! So true! Oh, my love!"
She cradled his unmoving head in her hands. "I wish that I could have told you how much you meant to me. Your kindness when I'm clumsy, and your jokes when I'm upset—I've always known what you are, Remus, but that's nothing to who you are. Merlin, Remus, please don't leave me!"
It was in that instant she felt two glowing eyes upon her, and looking up, she gasped—just one second!—before feeling her face ripple and change into the one before her—a beautiful, terrifying face, with golden, pupil-less eyes, long, tangled black hair, and lips that parted to reveal the longest, most pointed teeth she'd ever seen.
Tonks felt her own incisors grow, touching her lower lip, and she knelt, motionless, eyeball to eyeball with the creature, smelling its horrid, stagnant blood-breath, feeling the coarse, long dark hairs brush her cheek, her breast bone; watching in fear and and fascination as it stared back, equally enthralled with its own mirror image, staring, captivated, roving over every feature, every curve, every line—
And then she remembered Remus' lifeless body, felt a fistful of his fringe with a trembling hand, felt the dirt smeared on his cheek pressed against the ground—
And then she watched in horror as the bicorn's eyes widened, tracing the path of a lone tear sliding down Tonks' cheek.
Suddenly the eyes blazed at the discrepancy, flashing red up into hers once again, and Tonks felt rather than heard the deafening roar in her face, and as the tearing scratch of claws came down across her left shoulder blade, she knew it was too late for a patronus—
Drawing her wand, she crouched, preparing for another attack—
When Remus leapt up from the soggy ground and sliced of the tip of a horn, causing the creature to howl one short, dying sound as it fell to the mud, in a deep sleep.
"Tonks," Remus breathed, clutching her to him. "Are you okay? You're bleeding! We have to get you out of here"
Her face slackened, returning to its own, and she hugged him with all she was worth. "Remus, I'm so sorry--" she began.
"We have to reach the Apparation point," Remus interrupted.
Eyebrows furrowed, she turned and saw what he was looking at.
Two more bicorns—both bigger than the one that had scratched Tonks.
"Run," he whispered.
"Not a chance," she whispered back.
In unspoken agreement, the two drew their wands together, crouching in a fight stance.
The largest bicorn pounced, nicking Remus in the shoulder. Tonks hit it with a stunning spell—but the spell failed!
"Remus?" she shouted, dodging the attack of the smaller bicorn as it leapt.
"They're immune," he managed, aiming a spell at a low-hanging tree limb. The limb fell with a deafening crack—right upon the larger bicorn. Howling, the creature struggled against the fallen limb, its long red hair swirling as it struggled.
But as Remus turned, the smaller one was upon him, and Tonks did the only thing she knew to do.
"Hey, you ugly bitch! Yeah, you! The one with the forest dandruff!"
The bicorn turned, its eyes silvery, and it let out a feral feline hiss as it charged at Tonks.
"Tonks!" Remus cried, running to catch up—but the creature was simply too fast.
As it leapt into the air, Tonks felt her face twisting in the quickest change she'd ever managed—and suddenly, the beast was kneeling in front of her, its foul, blackened woman's lips parted in fascination as she stared at it—and Remus lurched forward, snipping one horn, and grabbed Tonks' hand as it fell, too.
"Come on," he urged, and they ran without stopping to the Apparation point.
When they reached the edge of Hogsmeade, their clippings safely stored in Remus' cloak, neither could speak. They simply stood, chests heaving, staring at each other—both bloodied, both dirtied. Half of Remus' face was covered in mud, and it was all throughout his hair. Tonks' shoulder had stopped bleeding but it was a nasty, jagged cut, surrounded by bog dirt. Though her face had returned to normal, Remus found himself captivated by it still, staring into the eyes that had literally saved his life.
"Did I miss something?" she asked, breathlessly.
Remus shook his head and before he knew it, he found his mouth slanted over hers, and his hands wound in her dirt-strewn hair, crushing her face into his in a binding, searing display of passion and wanting and being.
One of her hands wound itself in the back of his hair, right at his sweaty, muddy nape; the other was beneath his sweater, rounding his ribs and rolling over his clammy skin, skimming ridges of old scars and making him shiver.
Suddenly he pulled away. "I—I'm so sorry," he managed, stepping back from her as if he'd burned himself.
"S'okay," she mumbled throatily, her lips swollen like day-old bee stings.
"We'd better get this to Dumbledore," he said, and she was looking at him with those eyes again—Tonks eyes—and even as she mumbled her agreement, he found himself pressed against her again, and for the first time in his life, the thought Dumbledore can wait crossed his mind, however briefly.