Tonks had been thinking about Remus all day.

Which, granted, wasn't unusual – these days he was her mind's natural default setting. If it didn't have anything better to do, or even sometimes when it did, there he was, ready to be thought about, and if he wasn't actively on her mind, he was always there in the background somewhere, a vague, Remus hum, like a spell cast days ago that lingered in the air. Occasionally he popped up unexpectedly too, inspired by a song she heard on the WWN, or something she saw that she made a note to tell him, or when she spotted someone with his colour hair or a jumper that was vaguely similar to one of his.

But today was different, because her thoughts about him weren't vague and backgroundy, but frighteningly specific, and, eventually, they'd managed to nudge their way into every thought she had. And the panic those thoughts inspired was all consuming.

What on earth was she going to get him for his birthday?

She fidgeted with the cushion in her lap, wishing she hadn't had so much time between work and him arriving to sit and stew about it. Just her luck, she thought. The one night she had something she needed her mind taking off was the one night Kingsley didn't need any help with his paperwork, Scrimgeour didn't want her to stay behind for a pointless de-brief, and there were no last-minute emergencies to eat into her getting ready time.

And consequently, she'd come home, got changed into her favourite black T shirt and lime green jumper, gone through a range of different hair colours before deciding she liked the red she'd been wearing all day, and then sat and racked her brain for books Remus might have mentioned wanting to read, foodstuffs he might have expressed a particular interest in sampling, or knick-knacks he'd lamented a lack of – in short, for hints she was perfectly sure he hadn't dropped. Her brow furrowed at the thought.

There was a knock on the door, and Tonks tossed the cushion back onto the sofa and got up to answer it, frowning a little because Remus wasn't due to arrive for twenty minutes and it wasn't like him to do anything as rude and presumptuous as be early.

She opened the door to find Molly beaming at her and gripping a large, square, glass dish that was brimming with what looked like melted cheese, under which a lasagne probably lurked. Tonks relaxed her grip on her wand. "Wotcher," she said.

"Hello dear," Molly said, peering over Tonks' shoulder and into the lounge. "Not interrupting anything..?"

"No," Tonks said, smiling to herself and wondering if Molly half-expected to see Remus' feet poking out from underneath the curtains, or the top of his head cresting the back of the sofa, or him half-naked in the middle of the room, scrabbling for his clothes.

She cleared her throat, partly to draw Molly's attention back to her instead of the room she was still scanning for trysting werewolves, and partly to clear her mind of the images of a half-naked, trysting werewolf that she'd somehow conjured and probably shouldn't give too much thought to in company for fear she might drool on her shoes. "Well I won't keep you," Molly said distractedly, still craning her neck to see into the room, and probably under the impression she was doing it surreptitiously. A disappointed crease appeared briefly on her forehead as she came to the conclusion that the room was empty, and then she shook her head slightly and met Tonks' eye, the corners of hers crinkling as she smiled. "I just brought you this," she said, holding out the dish, "to thank you for swapping shifts with Bill. It really was very kind of you."

"No problem," Tonks said, taking the dish anyway. She knew better than to refuse any offer of food Molly made, and if she was honest, she was grateful that she and Remus wouldn't have to fend for themselves, since they weren't very good at it. "But thanks. This looks fantastic. I hope you didn't go to too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," she said. "I made far too much for me and Arthur and it'd be a shame to waste it."

Tonks suppressed a smile, remembering how, over the summer, Molly had always offered Remus second helpings of things – normally desserts, under the pretence that it would be a shame to waste it, presumably forgetting that Remus knew of the existence of chilling and preservation charms. Remus, of course, would always accept and agree, even though they both knew it was just because Molly thought he was too thin and it was nothing to do with things going to waste at all. The fact that they both kept up the pretence, however, had endeared them to her no end when she'd first joined the Order. "Do you want to come in for a minute?" she said.

"Are you sure, dear?" Molly said, and Tonks nodded and ushered her over the threshold. "What a lovely room," she said, casting her eyes about the place as if she hadn't just spent minutes peering into it, "nice to see a splash of colour." Tonks grinned before taking the lasagne into the kitchen and setting it on the side.

"Fancy a cuppa?" she called into the lounge.

"I'd love one."

Tonks busied herself with mugs, tea bags and sugar, and soon enough she was gesturing for Molly to have a seat and issuing her with a steaming mug. "You know, there's more than enough for two – " Molly said, taking a sip of her tea. Tonks eyed the mug with a frown, thinking that she'd never thought it abnormally large, before she glanced up and saw Molly's eyes darting towards the kitchen, and decided that she was probably referring to the lasagne. " – should there be anyone you'd like to have over for dinner." Molly's eyes took on a hopeful gleam as she continued: "And they do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"I'm buggered then," Tonks said, before she could hold the thought in.

She looked up warily to see Molly's reaction, wondering if she was in for the kind of scolding for swearing she'd seen Molly give the twins and Ron – or possibly a soap charm to wash her mouth out – but Molly seemed prepared to let it slide, since there weren't impressionable minds around to be influenced. "Nonsense," she said, waving the thought away. "You could always learn if you wanted to."

"Unless someone comes up with a cookery book for people who make things explode," Tonks said, "I think I'm better off out of it for everybody's sake."

She took a sip of her tea and cringed at the memory of Remus with spaghetti in his hair. At least Molly had saved her from a repeat performance of that. "So is there..?" Molly said into her mug, with as much nonchalance as any Weasley was able to pull off. Tonks frowned, perplexed by whatever Molly was alluding to, wondering if she'd missed something.

"Is there what?" she said, taking a sip of her tea.

"Someone you'd like to have over for dinner," Molly said, fidgeting with the chipped red mug in her hands. "Someone from the Order, maybe..?"

Tonks battled a grin. So that was it. She couldn't resist it. "Well Dung's been fishing for an invite – "

"Anyone else?" Molly said insistently. "Anyone more – " she wrinkled her nose as if the very thought of Mundungus Fletcher had evoked the smell of tobacco " – suitable?"

Tonks furrowed her brow in mock-thought, but before she could come up with a suitably single alternative Order member, Molly jumped in. "Remus is free this evening," she offered, eyebrows high and her eyes sparkling as she watched Tonks intently. "And he does like lasagne – I always save him a second helping."

"Does he?" Tonks said off-handedly, trying to appear disinterested.

Molly's brow creased slightly, and Tonks wondered if she hadn't been a bit too convincingly disinterested. "I did think that you and he – I mean you are – you seem to be – " Tonks raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile. " – courting," Molly said, seeming relieved to have gotten the word out.

"I don't know about that," Tonks said, unable to resist a mischievous grin, "but he is coming over for dinner, so it's a good job you brought that lasagne. I was going to offer to take him to the pub and shout him a bag of pork scratchings."

"Really?" Molly said, looking as if she about to stand up and break into a round of applause – Tonks suspected about the fact that they were having dinner together, not about her pork scratchings plan that was now, gladly, thwarted.

"Yeah."

Molly offered her a rather knowing smile. "He thinks very highly of you, you know," she said.

"I think very highly of him too," Tonks said quietly, allowing her mind to wander, just a little way, into what Remus might have said about her territory.

"How are things..?" Molly said. Tonks couldn't resist a blush at the thought.

"Fine," she said, into her mug. "Better than fine."

As she uttered the words she realised how nice it was to have someone to talk to about this, however vaguely, and although she never would have imagined having such a conversation with Molly, it didn't feel anywhere near as weird as she thought it might.

And it gave her an idea. If anyone could help her come up with a thoughtful gift for Remus, it was Molly – surely she had acres of experience with buying birthday presents for men of all ages? "Actually," she said, "I was just wondering what to get him for his birthday."

"It's his birthday?"

"Next week."

"I shall have to get a card…." Molly murmured. "Any ideas, dear?"

"I was thinking a book, maybe?" she said. "You know, something he'd keep for a long time. But he's got so many already…."

"You know, I hear the new Izolda Mackenzie novel is excellent," she said. "It got five wands in the Witch Weekly review."

Tonks suppressed a snigger at the idea of Remus being on the edge of his seat for the new Izolda Mackenzie novel, desperate to know the romantic fate of one of her fantastically unrealistic and gloomy heroines, who always fell for the least suitable wizard at the worst possible time, with spectacularly disastrous consequences. Still, it was a thought…. "Hmm," she said.

"Not quite what you had in mind?"

"Not quite," she said, smiling and hoping Molly wouldn't take offence.

"They're very accommodating in Flourish and Blotts," she said. "I'm sure they'd help you find something if you asked. They're always very good about getting Arthur second-hand copies of those Muggle man-rual things he likes."

"Maybe I'll pop in this weekend," Tonks said, deciding not to tell Molly she'd said 'manual' wrong.

"I'm sure he'll love whatever you get him," Molly said, smiling reassuringly.

"I know," she said. "I just – I want to get him something special, something he'll remember. I mean – he's done some really nice things for me, and I'd just like to do something nice for him for a change. He hasn't – I mean he hasn't said anything to you, has he? Anything about something he really wants?"

Molly shook her head, smiling rather knowingly. "All he ever talks about is you, dear," she said kindly. Tonks' insides danced.

"Oh," she said, feeling a blush creep up from her pounding heart. Molly's face lit up.

"I've got just the thing," she said. "You don't have to, but – well it might be just what you need if you can't come up with anything else. I'll send it with Arthur tomorrow."

Tonks' mind boggled at what it might be, conjuring images of large, hand-knitted jumpers with broomsticks on, but before she had time to ask for details, Molly continued. "And I've got a wonderful recipe for chocolate cake," she said, "if you'd like it."

"Any blowing things up in it?" Tonks muttered into her tea. Molly gave her a vaguely amused look of reproach, and patted her lightly on the knee.

"It's very easy," she said. "And I could always – " She frowned a little as if she wasn't quite sure whether or not to continue, but Tonks gave her an encouraging nod and her hesitation dissolved. "I'm sure you'd be able to do it, but – well, I could make one too – as a reserve. Just in case."

"That'd be great," she said. "I'd appreciate it. And I think Remus would too – you know, not having to eat one of my not-entirely-cooked cakes on his birthday." She couldn't help thinking that his birthday was the one day a year when he should be saved the effort of being so polite about everything, and Molly's suggestion had given her a rather good idea…. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Molly smiled her answer. "It'd be my pleasure," she said. "After everything he did for us at Christmas it's the least I can do." She smiled warmly at the thought and then drained her mug. "I'm glad things are working out."

"Me too."

There was an easy, contemplative pause in their conversation, during which Molly took both mugs and, seemingly entirely absentmindedly, sent them to the kitchen, where they rinsed themselves out, dried themselves and nestled neatly back in the cupboard, all in the time it would have taken Tonks to tentatively send them towards the sink and wince expectantly for the sound of them smashing.

"Tell me, dear," Molly said, "how did Remus get around to telling you how he felt? He was always so dreadfully nervous about it."

Tonks let out a soft chuckle, wondering if she should confess that Remus had told her all about Molly's poetry plans – or even lie and say that he'd won her over with a clever limerick or some epic romantic sonnet. "He just asked me if I'd like to go out with him," she said, deciding against it.

"Out of the blue?" Molly said, eyes widening, impressed, she supposed at Remus' sudden apparent bravado, and reminding Tonks that the Remus she knew wasn't the same one, necessarily, that other people got to see.

"Not entirely," Tonks said, unable to resist the urge to give in to another soft chuckle. "And then he took me out, and we had a lovely time."

"I'm sure you did." Molly smiled. "I'd best get out of your way," she said, gesturing vaguely at the room and then getting to her feet. "Arthur should be home any minute. Give Remus my best."

"I will."

Tonks showed Molly out, immensely grateful for the distraction she'd provided if not her Izolda Mackenzie idea, and five minutes later, there was another knock at the door, and this time, when she opened it, Remus was on the other side, smiling.

Her eyes took a quick pass over his face. He looked a little tired, maybe a bit paler than usual, but his eyes sparkled as they met hers, and that was all the reassurance she needed that he was fine. She wasn't sure she'd ever expected him not to be; after all, he'd been dealing with full moons for years without her concern or interference.

But Merlin, it was good to see him.

"I brought dinner," he said, holding out a large bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and a bottle of wine. His face sported an adorable mischievous expression, and she laughed and pulled him inside by the arm of his coat.

They looked at each other for a moment, and she thought that somewhere in his eyes, amongst the mischief and the sparkle, there was just a glimmer of nervousness, a hopeful, tentative eagerness that she hadn't seen since the night he'd asked her out. Remembering what Sirius had said about him possibly wanting, or needing, to be reassured that she still felt exactly the same as she had before the full moon, she slid her arms around his waist and hugged him, revelling in his soft brown jumper beneath her cheek and inhaling his delectable scent, mingled with the crisp spring air that he'd brought in with him.

He made a vaguely startled noise, hesitating for just a moment before returning the gesture as best he could with both his hands full. He kissed the side of her face, and she sank a little further into him, squeezing him tighter, having not realised until now how glad she would be to see him. He chuckled lightly beneath her cheek and she smiled up at him, to be rewarded with a proper kiss that made every inch of her smile, the delightfulness of which was only slightly hampered by the wine bottle pressing into her back and the bag of beans knocking against her bottom as he wrapped his arms around her. "Hello," he said, as he pulled away, and she couldn't avoid giving in to the urge to grin at him.

"Wotcher," she said dreamily.

She gestured for him to hang up his coat and he did, before turning back and holding up the bag. "You do like these, don't you?"

"Hmm," she said. "But we can have them for dessert."

"You didn't – "

Before he could get out the word – which she supposed would inevitably have been 'cook' – she took his sleeve and dragged him over to the kitchen, presenting the lasagne to him with a flourish. "Ta da!"

His eyes widened as he took in the dish. "Did you go on a cookery course?" he said, setting the wine and the bag of beans down on the work surface and turning back to her with a look of awe, that she wasn't entirely sure was pretend, on his face.

"No," she said. "Molly brought it over to thank me for swapping shifts with Bill. She made a point of saying she'd made enough for two – the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and all that. Looks like enough for six to me," she said, frowning a little at the immense dish in her hands before setting it back on the work surface.

"Did you tell her?" Remus asked, as he leant on the doorframe, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and offering her a slightly mischievous smile. "Put her out of her misery?"

"Oh she knew," Tonks said. "Actually, Charlie used to say that she reads minds because she always seemed to know when one of them had been up to no good." Remus straightened up and his eyes flashed with panic.

"Oh dear Merlin I hope not," he said.

"Why?" she said, narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion. "What have you been thinking that you'd want to hide from Molly?"

"I think a better question might be, what have I been thinking that I wouldn't want to hide from Molly?" he said.

"Really?" she said, leaning forward a little, one hand on her hip, desperately intrigued.

Remus swallowed and looked away, his eyes desperately roving the work surface. "So this lasagne, then," he said, changing the subject rather obviously as he enveloped the wine in a chilling charm. "What do you need to do to it?"

"I just need to warm it up," she said. Remus met her eye and smiled tentatively at her, giving her the impression that he was glad she hadn't questioned his abrupt change of topic. Which, of course, made her all the keener to file it for returning to later, maybe after she'd softened him up with a glass or two of wine.

"Do you want me to do – " he offered helpfully before she cut him off.

"I'm perfectly capable of performing a simple heating spell," she said, taking out her wand. Remus backed away towards the sink, cowering slightly as she raised it and pointed it at the dish. "What?" she said, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Nothing," he said, defensively raising his hands. "I was just remembering the lightness of touch you have with pasta."

She shot him a mock-glare, and he took out his wand and conjured a pink umbrella, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards him as he unfurled it over them both. "Just in case," he said, and she laughed, wondering how he could be such a gentleman and make fun of her at the same time. Not that she minded his teasing, or the way he was cradling her protectively against his chest, even though their foe was a rather less than deadly lasagne.

She decided to make the most of the opportunity, hooking her arm around his waist and bracing herself against him as she pointed her wand in the general direction of the dish and shot the spell at it. She closed her eyes at the last second and winced in expectation of the sound of exploding lasagne and cheese sauce raining from the ceiling that would surely follow. They cowered together for a moment before realising nothing adverse had happened.

"Did you hit it?" Remus said. This time Tonks shot him a real glare and dug him in the ribs for good measure.

"Did I hit it?" she asked incredulously, and he squirmed, laughing, away from her fingers. "I wouldn't be much of an Auror if I couldn't hit an inanimate object from two feet away."

Remus glanced at her apologetically, and Tonks waited until he'd turned to vanish his umbrella to go over to the dish and check.

When she'd assessed that the lasagne was well on the way to heating, she looked around for Remus, and found him in the lounge, running his finger along her CD shelf. "Whatcha doing?" she said, and he looked up.

"I thought I'd put some music on," he said. "Is that all right?"

"Of course it is," she said, leaning on the doorframe, her hands in her pockets. "What are you going for?"

"I thought I'd throw myself into the aural maelstrom of your record collection and pick something at random," he said. His finger stopped, and he removed the CD from its case without looking at it and placed it in the open CD player drawer. He smiled at her and hit play, and then jumped as the opening chords of a deafeningly bad heavy metal album she'd bought when she was fourteen just to annoy her parents blasted their way into the room. She couldn't resist a snigger.

Remus took a fortifying step back, staring at her CD player as if it had just insulted his mother. He turned it off again, and glanced over at her, eyes dancing with amusement. "Or you could choose," he said, and she laughed, covering her mouth with her fingers to hold in some proclamation about how adorable she thought he looked when he was startled as much as her laughter. He held out his hand to her and she stepped forward and took it, enjoying him winding her into his arms and nestling his chin on her shoulder. "What on earth was that?" he said as she settled her arms over his, squeezing them tighter into her.

"That was the sound of teenage rebellion," she said, snuggling back into the warmth of his body and trying desperately not to sigh.

"Oh."

"Did you never..?"

"In my day rebellion was quieter," he said. "More secretive, underhand. Less – you know – shouty."

She laughed and then reluctantly moved one hand to trace along the shelf, trying to find something appropriate. Remus shifted so he could watch what she was choosing. "Could I put in a request for nothing too frightening?" he said and his words rumbled against her shoulder.

"Don't worry," she said. "If I'm going to scare you off I'd rather do it with something more exciting than a poor record choice."

"What might you do to scare me off?" he said, and she felt him turn to look at her.

"Well you almost let me cook," she said, and he chuckled breathily, "that normally does it."

"I've survived your cooking once," he said. "I came here tonight fully prepared to do so again."

Tonks' insides squirmed with embarrassment. "Actually," she said, "if Molly hadn't turned up, I was going to take you to the pub down the road for a bag of pork scratchings."

"Pork scratchings?" he said.

"Or crisps," she said. "You know, whichever you fancied."

"Could I have had Salt and Vinegar?"

"Of course. And I might have bought you a pint."

"You do know how to show a man a good time," he said, his voice dancing with amusement. "I would have been delighted with either," he added, rather more sincerely, offering her stomach a reassuring squeeze and dropping a kiss onto her shoulder. "What else do you have up your sleeve to scare me off with, since that's evidently not going to pass muster?"

"Pig snout at an inappropriate moment usually does the trick," she said.

"So that's how you get rid of unwanted suitors, is it?" he said, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him lift an eyebrow at her.

"Hmm."

"What if I didn't mind the pig snout?"

"Then," she said, "I suppose I'd just have to fall back on some of my more inventive hexes."

She selected Grace from the shelf and put it on, smiling up at Remus over her shoulder and thinking that her wanting to get rid of him was about as likely as Moody taking a laissez-faire attitude to vigilance. The opening notes crept into the room and swirled around them. "How's that?" she said.

"Much better," he said, moving her gently from side to side in a quite close approximation of dancing, which, fortunately, didn't actually require either of them to move their feet, which seemed like a reasonable precaution, given their previous attempt. "Not at all frightening."

She leant against him and wondered if she should ask about the moon – but she wasn't entirely sure how to phrase the question. 'How was the moon?' just sounded too odd…and really, she wasn't sure she wanted to ruin the moment by dragging something like full moons into it. "How was your day?" Remus murmured, tightening his grip around her slightly.

"Pretty boring," she said. "Yours?"

"Same," he said, and she thought that 'pretty boring' probably answered her unuttered question without any of the possible angst that would have resulted from her having actually asked it. "That's why I bought the beans. Liven things up a bit."

She turned in his arms, sliding her hands over his shoulders and curling her fingers into his hair. "I wouldn't have thought you were an Every Flavour Bean kind of man," she said, her eyes flickering to watch her fingers in his hair.

"No?" he said, raising his eyebrows at her, his fingers leaving the faintest ghost of an impression on her hips as they moved lower and settled there. "Can you not see the slight element of danger appealing to my Marauder tendencies?"

"Is that what it is?"

Remus raised a single eyebrow higher. "Most Marauders wouldn't be caught dead with boring, non-adventurous sweets."

"Most?"

"Hmm," he said, inching her closer and gazing down at her. "You know Sirius hates them."

"How come?"

"Peter was barely ever without a bag in our first few years at school, and Sirius had the most appalling luck with them – all the nastiest flavours – soap, tripe, dust. He swears he had an earthworm-flavoured one once, although how he knew is anyone's guess. Then, he chanced upon one of the infamous vomit-flavoured ones, and since then he's refused to touch them – I've seen him recoil from just the briefest mention. I actually think they might be his boggart."

She laughed. "Big, bad, Sirius Black afraid of Every Flavour Beans. Remind me to take the mick about it the next time I see him," she said, before smiling at him teasingly and lowering her voice to her best flirtatious tone. "But you have no such qualms?"

"I think they can sense fear," he said narrowing his eyes slightly conspiratorially. "I think they turn into something nasty if they sense your hesitation. Consequently I've had no such trouble, because when it comes to confectionary, I'm very brave." His dramatic, mock-serious tone was only slightly ruined by him grinning, but regardless of whether she was impressed by his fearlessness in the face of a risk with every mouthful or not, he slowly dipped his head to hers.

She threaded her fingers into his hair and touched her lips to his. She sank into a delicious slow kiss, and as Remus' lips wandered over hers, sending tingles from her lips to everywhere else, she wondered if anything could be more perfect. And then he gently pressed her closer and his fingers wandered up her spine to weave their way into her hair, leaving a trail of undeniable sparks in their wake, and she knew the answer. Nothing was more perfect than that.

Just as a meddlesome thought about what might happen to a lasagne left indefinitely under a warming charm elbowed its way into her mind, Remus pulled away. "We should probably – " he indicated the kitchen with a jerk of his head.

"Hmm," she murmured. "I was just thinking the same thing."

Tonks managed to serve the lasagne without incident, and they took a plate each and settled on the floor in front of the fire with their backs against the sofa. Remus summoned the wine and a couple of glasses, setting them on the floor between them. "More stuff liberated from Grimmauld?" she said as he poured her a glass and handed it to her.

"No," he said. "I bought it at that Muggle shop on the corner. It was cheap, but it's got a deep notch in the bottom, so it should be all right."

She frowned in incomprehension. "What?" she said through a mouthful of lasagne.

"Oh," he said, laughing softly to himself, presumably at the look on her face. "It's a trick my father taught me. When you're buying Muggle wine, you want to see how far into the bottom of the bottle you can get your thumb. A deep notch means they'd serve it in restaurants – because that's how a waiter – a Muggle waiter – holds the bottle to pour it for you, the theory being that anything you'd pay for in a restaurant should be slightly nicer than anything you wouldn't."

He held the bottle out for her to see, and she took it and studied the dip in the bottom of the clear glass for a moment, running her fingers over it. "Hmm," she said, smiling and settling the bottle back on the floor. "Aren't you the fount of all knowledge."

"I try," he said, taking a forkful of lasagne from the precariously perched plate on his knee. "This is nice."

"You haven't even tried it yet," she said, thinking that even for Remus, pre-emptive praise was overly polite.

"No," he said, smiling as he looked away, "I meant – I meant having dinner with you. Properly. Something other than sandwiches."

She smiled at him, thinking that only Remus would think sitting on the floor with a plate of lasagne constituted doing things properly. "Of course, this is very nice as well," he said, after swallowing a mouthful. "It was good of Molly to bring you a thank you gift."

"Just a cover," she said, sniggering. "I think she was hoping to catch us in the middle of some kind of tryst."

"We're having trysts now?" he said, glancing at her, his eyes glimmering with flirtation.

Tonks attempted to swallow the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the look in his eyes along with some lasagne, with limited success. "You don't mind, do you?" she said, taking a large gulp of wine to try and dislodge both.

"That we're having trysts now?" he said, glancing at the ceiling in false consideration. "No, I think you can put me down as all in favour."

She rolled her eyes at him, although she didn't mean it in the slightest. "No, I meant that I told Molly – confirmed her suspicions."

"Of course not," he said. "I mean, I will miss her approaching me after meetings and offering me words of encouragement, but I daresay I'll soldier on."

"And now she'll get to quiz you about how things are going…."

"Quite," he said, smiling into another forkful of lasagne. "I daresay I have lots of desperately embarrassing conversations to look forward to."

They ate in silence for a moment, and Tonks enjoyed the way the flames in the grate lit up his face, highlighting the golden tones of his hair and the smile in his eyes. "She seemed pleased," Tonks said, and watched as Remus' lip twitched up slightly in the briefest hint of pre-smile amusement.

"Hmm," he said. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to say anything else, but then he tilted his head towards her a little. "Well," he said softly, peering at her through the ends of his fringe, "I have been after you for quite a while."

The fluttering returned in earnest. Apparently the butterflies in her stomach liked it when he said things like that, almost as much as she did. She smiled, enjoying the soul-deep tingle his words produced. "She thinks you're far more suitable for me than Dung," she said, trying to keep her tone light and flirty rather then giving in to the pull of mumbling like a fourteen year old in the throes of their first crush.

Remus threw his head back and laughed. "Oh well that's not true," he said. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her, smiling impishly. "I can't do you nearly as good a price on a knocked-off cauldron."

She laughed, nearly upsetting her plate in the process. "And you think that's what the modern witch looks for in a man, do you?" she said, righting it again on her lap and licking the cheese sauce that had dribbled onto her fingers off again.

"Isn't it?" Remus said, with the most adorable confused expression on his face that she couldn't resist offering him a reassuring, coyly flirty smile, even though she knew he was joking.

"Well normally…." she said, trailing off wistfully. "There's a chance we might waiver on the stolen goods if someone brought us appropriately childish sweets, though."

Remus grinned.

They ate and chatted and enjoyed the non-frightening music she'd chosen, and soon enough both plates were nestling together in the kitchen, after Tonks had, of course, in proper Molly style, offered Remus a second helping, and he, in proper Remus style, hadn't refused.

After he'd banished their plates to the sink, Remus poured them both another glass of wine and settled back against the sofa, resting his elbow on the seat. "We could get up," she offered, half wondering what her mother would say if she knew she'd had a man over for dinner and not only served him food she hadn't even prepared herself but made him sit on the floor, "sit down properly?"

"Too stuffed to move," he said. "How about you?"

"Yeah," she murmured. "I'm happy here, as long as you promise not to tell my mother about my lack of hostess skills."

"I won't breathe a word."

Tonks curled her feet underneath her and turned towards Remus, who stifled a yawn with his hand. She took a sip of her wine and then carefully set her glass on the floor, and, as she raised her hand to toy with the hair that was straying into his eyes, he smiled. "You look tired," she said. "You didn't have to come if you weren't up to it."

"I'm fine," he said, his eyebrows twitching up almost imperceptibly beneath her fingertips. "I wanted to come."

"Ok," she said, settling her hand back in her lap. She didn't want to make too much of it, but she imagined transformations must take it out of him, and she wanted him to know that she wouldn't mind if he ever cancelled on her because he was too worn out. "But, you know, if you ever – I mean if you are too tired, you only have to say. I'd understand."

Remus smiled at her kindly, giving her the impression that he had a far better handle on what she was really saying than her words had right to expect. After all, she hadn't even said 'full moon' or 'transformation' or anything to let him know what she was really talking about. But he seemed to know, and she thought it was reassuring, in a way, that she hadn't been the only one with the subject so close to the surface of her mind. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and clasped his hands in his lap. "Sirius said you came over last night," he said, meeting her eye, the same kind smile extending all the way up to his gaze.

"Hmm," she said. "I thought I might catch you before the moon came up, but Scrimgeour cornered me as I was leaving."

"I thought you and Kingsley had managed to assuage him of his suspicions?"

"Oh we have, I think," she said. "He just wanted to chat generally, but by the time I managed to duck out it was too late to see you. Sirius seemed remarkably chipper," she said. "Have you been putting cheering charms on his drinks or something?"

Remus let out a soft snort of amusement. "Alas it's all his own doing, and therefore will probably be short-lived," he said. He reached for his glass and took a sip of wine, loosely cradling the glass in his lap. "I think – well – he quite likes the full moon," he said, looking up at the ceiling rather sadly. "I think he thinks that at least then he can be useful to someone."

Tonks smiled to herself, thinking that that was probably true, if the evidence she'd seen last night was anything to go on. "I caught him getting you dinner," she said, and Remus smiled.

"He can be very sweet when he chooses to be," he said, and when she raised a half-disbelieving eyebrow, he continued, looking ruefully down at his knees. "I know what people think of him – that he's arrogant and thoughtless and hot-headed; and he is all of those things, but…." Remus trailed off, lost in some thought or memory, and then shook his head a little and met her eye again. "Well, he's a lot more than that. And he can be very sweet, when he chooses to be."

"Hmm," she said, thinking of his advice with a fondness she was rather unaccustomed to. "He can."

"He said you two had a chat last night," he said. "About me."

Tonks rolled her eyes, any fondness for her cousin dissipating, to be replaced by the sudden urge to wring his neck. "Typical," she said. "You don't call him motor-mouth Black for nothing, do you?"

Remus let out a soft chuckle at her annoyance, drawing his knees up underneath him and turning towards her, resting his elbow on the sofa seat and his head on his hand. "He wasn't indiscreet," he said, dropping his wine glass onto the floor and toying with the rim. "He didn't tell me exactly what you'd talked about, just that he'd said some things that he hoped were helpful, but that he wasn't entirely sure, on reflection, if he'd been any use at all."

"Oh," she said, suddenly feeling a bit guilty for jumping to conclusions and wanting to strangle the life out of him.

"And he apologised, just in case he'd done anything wrong."

"Apologised?" she said, voice high with astonishment. "Was he drunk?"

"Only a little," Remus said. "It was breakfast time."

They shared a chuckle at her cousin's expense, and Tonks bit her lip, finding herself oddly touched by Sirius' doubts about his helpfulness, and his completely unnecessary apology. "I always wondered – " she started, before she decided that if she was going to tell the story she might as well do it properly. "When I met you," she said, "and Sirius said you two were mates, I thought he was joking – being sarcastic or something."

Remus frowned with amused confusion. "Really?" he said, his voice a little higher than normal with surprise.

"Yeah," she said. "I mean you just seemed so different. You were so polite and quiet and – I don't know – thoughtful, or something – and he was just so completely the opposite I thought he was making fun of you." Tonks tittered. Now it seemed completely ludicrous that she'd thought any such thing.

"And now?" he asked gently, his eyes surveying her with quiet inquisitiveness and not a little amusement. She smiled.

"Now I think it's not so strange," she said. "It makes sense – I mean I think you're more alike than a lot of people know."

"Hmm," Remus murmured, and although his murmur had been largely non-committal, his eyes danced with amusement, and she thought he probably agreed, whether he'd admit it, or not.

"And he's – well, both of you are, I suppose – very protective."

Remus smiled guiltily and looked away, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong and vaguely deviant. "Oh come on," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "Even though he says all that stuff about your filthy lecherous werewolf paws, he'd hex anyone else who said anything even remotely like that into the middle of next year, and I've seen the way you bristle when people say unkind things about him. And you do seem to be the only person he ever listens to."

"Oh he only ever listens when he already knows I'm right," Remus said, laughing quietly to himself, as he reached for his wine glass and took a sip.

"If he knows you're right," she said, brow furrowing a little at the thought, "why does he need to hear you say it?"

Remus swallowed another mouthful of wine and peered at her through the ends of his hair. "The thing with Sirius and me is that he's like the devil on my shoulder, and I'm like the conscience on his," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "It's not the case that he leads me astray when I never would have gone there on my own, or that he wouldn't know what the right thing to do was if I didn't tell him. Sometimes we both just need the encouragement of hearing out loud what's buried inside."

"Oh," she said softly. She took a sip of her wine, bouncing the glass on her lip for a moment as she thought. "It must have been nice," she said, "to have that, you know, growing up and stuff. I never did, not really."

"Not even at school?"

She offered him a rather faint smile. "No," she said, and Remus looked at her, raising his eyebrows encouragingly – so encouragingly that, even though she hadn't really intended to say any more about the subject, she continued. "Not for ages. I had mates and stuff, but no-one really special. And then when I was in fifth year – well, there was this boy I liked – but he wasn't interested, and he started going out with this girl called Louise Taylor." She toyed with a worn patch on the sofa seat, idly wondering how she'd ended up talking about herself when they were supposed to be talking about him. "Anyway, she thought that I might morph into her to kiss him, which I nev –"

"I know," he said, putting his hand lightly on her arm and immediately deflating the vehement denial she'd been prepared to offer. "I know you wouldn't."

She swallowed, her insides glowing at the thought that Remus had no trouble believing – in fact – hadn't thought for a moment, that she would ever do something like that. She stared fixedly at the worn patch on the sofa. "And she told everyone what she thought – and it didn't matter how much I said that I wouldn't do something like that, it was just like there was doubt in their minds, you know? And after that all the girls – even the ones I'd been mates with, were a bit suspicious of me," she said, meeting his eye and shrugging.

"And, as I think we've already established," Remus said, "all the boys you went to school with were idiots." She smiled.

"Something like that."

She took a large gulp of wine to drown the memory, and then re-filled both of their glasses, polishing off the bottle. "You said not for ages," he prompted.

"No, well," she said, suddenly feeling a bit more chipper at a slightly better recollection from her school days. "I did get my own back on Louise Taylor."

"One of your inventive hexes?"

"Oh yes," she said and he raised his eyebrows at her.

"What did you do?" he said. She suspected that he was trying to pull off some kind of concerned Professor voice, yet the glimmer of intrigued mischief in his eyes gave him away. Tonks glanced at the ceiling.

"Turned her clothes to slime. While she was wearing them. Right in the middle of Herbology."

"Oh," Remus said, his voice curving with barely suppressed glee. She met his eye, thinking that he looked more than a little impressed.

"And I got put in detention for a couple of weeks – re-potting moody adolescent Mandrakes for Professor Sprout – and that's where I met Steph."

"Steph?"

"She was in Hufflepuff," Tonks said. "And in the year below me, so we never would have met otherwise – but she'd turned Bobby Jenson's hair into cactus spikes because he'd snogged Tricia Yates behind the greenhouses when he was supposed to be going out with her – and so we kind of bonded. I mean, we were wearing earmuffs so it took a while to mime out what we were both there for, but after that…."

"You're still friends?"

"Hmm. Don't see each other very often, but yeah. Always will be, I think," she said.

She watched the shadows dance across Remus' face as he shifted, dropping his head a little deeper into his hand and peering at her through the firelight. She wondered what Steph would make of him. She hadn't seen her since before Christmas – she'd been so busy she'd barely had time for a proper conversation with anyone outside the Order – but it was an intriguing thought. And Steph was always keen to meet any man she was seeing, and normally pretty quick to tell her they were losers and she could do better. And so far, to be fair, she'd been right.

But Remus wasn't like the other blokes she'd been out with. He listened when she spoke and he was always interested in whatever she had to say, and for all his inside-melting flirtation, she knew he wasn't just after one thing. He always gave her the impression that he took her seriously as a person, and she really wasn't used to that. But she liked it.

"What's this Steph like, then?" Remus said. "Apart from her proficiency with unusual follicle spells?"

"She's great," Tonks said. "When we started hanging out together, she asked me if I was really a Metamorphmagus – if I wasn't just doing spells to change myself, and when I said yes, she just kind of nodded and said 'cool' and then never really mentioned it again."

"I can see why you'd like that," he said quietly.

"Can you?" she said, a little startled at how surprised she sounded.

"Hmm," he murmured. "You must get tired of people treating you like a novelty."

Tonks smiled faintly. "I'd rather people treat me like a novelty than a freak," she said, and Remus' eyebrow twitched in surprise, or as if her words had stung him, somehow. She waited for him to say something, listening to the crackle of the fire and the swirling of the music from her stereo, which all of a sudden seemed very far away indeed.

Remus took a sip of his wine and looked straight at her, almost as if he could see right through her. "You know you're not either to me, don't you?" he said. Her breath caught in her chest, but she managed a nod. She took a steadying sip of her wine, and then another one for good measure.

"What am I then?" she said, rather more teasingly than she expected to, given the circumstances. Remus smiled and avoided her eyes, suddenly fascinated by the flames in the grate.

"Just Tonks," he said. Her insides squirmed happily.

"Well that'll do," she said. "For now."

She followed his gaze and watched the flames for a moment, knowing that although they'd skirted the issue, they still hadn't really talked about Remus being a werewolf. She didn't want to force the issue, but she did want to talk about it, if only to let him know that, in the same way that he accepted the idiosyncrasies of going out with someone like her, she was prepared to accept the idiosyncrasies of going out with him. To her, that was really all it was, idiosyncrasies, and she didn't want to leave talking about it for so long that it became a problem, the werewolf in the room that they both knew was there but didn't want to talk about.

She took a deep breath, bit her lip, and decided it was time to broach the subject.


A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Apologies if the ending feels a little arbitrary (and is a great big cliffy) – it is, entirely, since this chapter was initially just the opening section of the next, completely monstrous, one.I decided to chop it to make the thing a bit easier to read, since I'm sure none of you really want to plough through twenty thousands words at a time, but it has meant that this one's mostly set up for the next. It does mean, though, thatyou'll get the next one pretty sharpish.

Anyway, it's bribe time – so anyone who reviews this gets a Remus of their very own to feed pasta-based treats to. Sexy Remus favours cannelloni, Flirty Remus comes with carbonara, Romantic Remus, naturally, comes with spaghetti bolognaise you get to eat like Lady and the Tramp, and Mischievous Remus brings microwave pasta because he's got much more interesting plans than watching water boil for half an hour ;).