It's three days before Remus sees Nymphadora again. He knows because he's been counting, watching the time tick away on that stupid grandfather clock that is still spitting rusty bolts at stragglers on the stairs; he has the welts to prove it. He doesn't know why he's been counting.
"Wotcher, Remus," she says, standing on her toes, hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans as she gazes around the sitting room on the second floor landing.
He looks up, abandoning the mouse hole and the sluggish black creature that is trying to escape inside. "Nymphadora," he greets. He wonders if he should reach out and shake her hand; but that feels too formal, and he very much hopes that they can be friends. So he settles on a smile.
She rolls her eyes amicably, biting her lip. "Not this again, Remus. I thought I―"
"There's a ghoul on your shoulder," he says suddenly, one eyebrow pulled up in serious inquiry. "Did you know?"
She laughs, because clearly this is his way of breaking the ice now that she is a full fledge Order member and not the Auror set on pulling strings of memory from his mind, until he isn't joking and she sees the long pale fingers wrap around her arm and the blue jets of fire coming out of her wand are almost enough to sever the candelabra chain hanging overhead as she whirls around to greet the grizzled creature face to face; that is, if it had a face.
When the onslaught of silent, fiery spells ends, the wallpaper is singed and there is a spot on the floor, dangerously close to Remus's feet, that he can see the library through.
"What was that?" he wonders, turning and prodding the smoking cushion on the window seat with his own wand, a wistful smile accompanying the curiosity in his eyes.
Tonks takes a deep breath, pockets her wand, and gives him a helpless, slightly apologetic shrug. "Oh, nothing really. Modified charm. More for show than anything."
"I thought the Ministry frowned upon unlisted spells."
"They also frown upon secret societies bent on undermining their efforts, so I figured I'd go out with a bang."
Remus laughs. "Moody must have had his hands full with you."
"I'm probably ninety percent responsible for his greys."
"You know, Sirius was quite the spell modifier himself at Hogwarts." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Or good at deciphering what was written on the toilet stalls at least." On that note he smirks at her. "You paid a visit to the upstairs toilets, didn't you?"
"I was having a look around, yeah. For you or Sirius. This house is bloody huge."
There's something doing somersaults in his chest when she says she's been looking for him. Of course she has, you daft bugger, he thinks suddenly. You are the resident werewolf, resident keeper of all things Order related. Who else would she be looking for?
He clears his throat, pushing away the strangled thoughts in his brain. "Well I think you just dealt with our resident ghoul problem," he assures her. "Unless of course it's had offspring and then we should probably check the drains as well before someone has their necktie dragged inside."
"Yes, death by ghoul strangulation," she chuckles. "Who needs Voldemort?"
He laughs again, a sudden, happy bark, so alike to the sudden flurry of joy Sirius is known for displaying that the sound takes even Remus by surprise.
She's grinning at him, at the smile that still lights his face and he wonders about that. About how easy it seems to be to smile when she's around.
"Anyway," she says. "I just wanted to thank-you, uh, for the other night. For catching me and all."
"For saving your dignity or your knees?" he asks, fighting the teasing smile.
"Both I guess. Wouldn't be the first time I introduced myself like that. Probably won't be the last, but I appreciate it all the same."
"Well, in that case, should you be within range, my arms are always open."
She tuts good-naturedly. "I would think twice about a promise like that. Might be more than you bargained for with my two left feet."
"Perhaps I should just start charging for my services then."
"A flat rate? Or by the fall?"
"By the fall, I guess. Might be more profitable that way."
"Likely. So what do I owe you then?"
"How about an afternoon of clearing out the third floor bedrooms with me? There's a bad pixie infestation in some of them." For a second he pauses, wondering where this easy banter and sudden assurance has come from. Surely she has to work or meet up with friends. Or just . . . anything besides spending the afternoon with a rundown werewolf, with his sleeves rolled up and a pile of dead Scour Rats at his feet. "That is, of course, unless you're busy." He shakes his hands at her, trying to renege on the offer. "I'm sure you are, it's fine really."
"No, actually," she says, shrugging out of her coat. There's a purple weird sister's tee underneath with a plaid shirt tied off around her waist. Her jeans are faded, but her boots some kind of leather, probably dragon hide, with silver buckles and fashioned iron fang charms that clatter when she walks. "Sounds like my kind of fun."
"Oh, really?"
"Put me to work," she instructs, rolling her own sleeves, her wand clenched between her teeth for the moment. "I do owe you a debt after all. And I always pay my debts."
She pulls a hair tie from her pocket and ties the neon blue strands back away from her face. From her dark eyes and prominent brow. She's got high cheek bones that round out when she laughs and a sharp, cheeky smile. As he watches her, the ends of her hair turn pink, flooding to the roots. It happens so fast that he blinks, twice, and continues to stare.
"Remus?"
"Sorry," he says. "It just happens so fast. It's intriguing really." The words are out of his mouth before he's thought about them―about how they make her sound like some sort of potions experiment―and he blushes, fumbling for an apology. "I meant―"
But she lays a hand on his forearm, pausing his thoughts, his words.
"It's okay. I understood."
"It's only that I didn't mean to suggest that―"
She laughs, the sound light, tinkling. He's forgiven, though he'd had nothing to be forgiven for. "I've been called worse, Remus. Trust me. Intriguing is fine." She squeezes his hand and he lets out a heavy breath. "Now, where do we start?" she asks.
Molly brings sandwiches at some point and now that the sitting room has been divested of the resident creepy crawlies, Tonks and Remus take a break. They are soon joined by an onslaught of Weasley children, red-headed and freckled. They make fast friends with Tonks, especially Ginny, who dictates animals and watches in amazement as the newest Order member uses her uncanny abilities for something a little less serious in the transfiguration department.
Pig snouts have never been such a riot, Remus thinks.
Fred and George seem quite pleased with this new addition to the house as well and even Ron stops the stream of food to his mouth to smile.
The afternoon wears on and soon it's evening.
Suddenly Tonks jumps to her feet, cursing under her breath.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." She smiles. "I just have an early shift tomorrow. Lost track of time here is all. I best be going." She waves to the kids. "I'll be seeing you lot I expect."
"I'll walk you out," Remus offers.
She nods and he follows her to the stairs. They walk side by side.
"The kids speak fondly of you," she says.
"I did quite enjoy my time at Hogwarts," he agrees.
"Would you do it again?"
"Teach? I mean, I don't think the opportunity will ever present itself again."
"This war won't last forever, Remus." And it's the quiet confidence in her voice that shocks him; the confidence that suggests that it is only time that stands in his way and not a matter of what he is. He feels the same swelling in his chest as he opens the door for her.
"Goodnight," he says and she waves before stepping onto the stoop and turning on the spot to Apparate home.
