A/N: Short and sweet fluffy little smutfest (it is their honeymoon after all). If that's not your thing skip this chapter. You're not missing much except the conception of a tiny, nine-month in the making plot point ;P
She closes her eyes as they Apparate. It's the one thing Remus requested of her and he's so excited that she'd obeyed and held tightly to his shoulders as he turned them on the spot, the crushing weight of Apparition decidedly different—almost pleasantly so—when she's crushed in his arms and not by the manipulation of time and space.
This marriage thing . . . she doesn't think she'll ever get used to the way it makes her feel inside. Like a nerve. Like jelly. Like every part of her buzzes with anticipation. It's terrifying and thrilling and most of the time she has to physically remind herself to breathe so she doesn't pass out.
They land as suddenly as they left and she wobbles a little, ankles adjusting on the uneven ground that slips beneath her feet. She waits for the jelly feeling in her legs to fade and takes a long, steadying breath.
Salt and sea and the calm rush of water on sand.
It invades her senses like the first breath of air after a dive, hard, fast, and completely freeing. Awakening. Life giving.
She fights the urge to blink, to open her eyes and take in the sight that has overwhelmed every other sense. She can feel the heat of the sun on her face. It lights her eyelids red.
Remus' hand on her skin is warm as it trails under her jaw and around her cheek. His lips brush hers, soft, pliant, inviting. Everything is different with her eyes closed. Heightened. She wants to fall into his embrace, let his hands roam and make her feel all the glorious things he's capable of making her feel, but he pulls away with a swipe of his tongue along her lower lip.
It's a chaste kiss by most of their standards, but promising, hopefully of things to come.
"Open your eyes, darling," he says, hands still cupped around her face.
The first thing she sees is him, his smile brilliant and crooked and maybe, maybe just a tiny bit unsure.
This makes her curious and she looks around.
A white iron gate creaks in the breeze. It's knee high and extends in an intricate wrought iron fence around what seems to be a substantial property line.
On the coast.
The beach is vast and white as she peers over the edge of a gently descending cliff.
It's sand mostly, not the jagged rock kind she's used to exploring for work.
The water is far enough to not be a threat, ever, but close enough she can feel the breeze and energy of the ocean, smell the brine and salt and earthy mixture of kelp and tide.
After absorbing the breathtaking quality of the view Tonks decides it's almost picturesque: the kind of thing she's seen on those little Muggle postcards.
When she's had her fill of the blue, blue ocean, Remus turns her slowly and what she comes upon next isn't as much breathtaking as it is quaint. A cottage nestled into the hillside, shingles curled like the tide, the siding a pale, faded yellow, in need of a good sanding and paint.
There are curtains drawn back at the window, low lights glowing inside.
The front door is a dark maroon colour, surrounded by thick walls of ivy on either side that have climbed up and over the roof in pursuit of sun.
"Remus, what is this place?"
He just smiles in a reminiscing sort of way as he watches her gaze explore. "Somewhere we won't be interrupted, I hope."
Tonks looks up at him, hand on his chest, fingers scratching lightly at his skin through his shirt. It isn't quite uncertainty that furrows her brow, but Remus can tell she's wary of this place, new and cast-off in some private part of nowhere. But this is exactly where he wants to be right now, where he wants to be with her.
"I've come here before," he explains, letting his arm fall around her shoulders, pulling her tight to his side, "at the full moon, when I've needed a place to go. I've been slowly adding charms, in case the Order ever needed a safe house."
"You know, when you left all those times during the moon I kind of imagined you spending the night in some mangled old forest, not something this . . ."
"Normal?" he offers.
"Domestic."
"That's me," he teases, "your average, domesticated werewolf."
"So you just curl up inside and wait for morning?"
"Yes, when I've taken the Wolfsbane. If I haven't there tends to be a lot of broken furniture in the morning. The wolf's rather restless without the potion."
"I can imagine," she says, for a second flashing back to that night in the cellar when she didn't know if the potion she concocted would kill Remus, or herself.
"But this place is out of the way. It's unplottable. There are Anti-muggle charms keeping away the pesky neighbours." He inhales deeply. "And great for the sinuses."
Tonks chuckles, tucking her head back against his chest as they sway in the yard. "It's perfect," she agrees, squeezing his hand.
"Do you want to go inside?"
She leans up on her toes and kisses him. "I don't know, will it be worth my while?"
Remus' eyes widen, darken, as his lips pull into a thin, teasing smile. "Oh, I'll make sure of it."
Somewhere between the front door and the kitchen they end up horizontal on a bed, clothes disappearing like magic (maybe some of it is on Remus' part; he's very good at wandless magic), lips and skin fused together like someone's cast a sticking charm between them.
"This is lovely," Remus says, fingering the little black lace number she'd been wearing beneath her clothes. He obviously hadn't been the only one who intended to start the honeymoon off with a bang (pun intended). "Though I don't remember having seen this before."
"It's new," she husks into his ear, lips hot against his neck.
"When did you have time to shop?"
"I'm very good at multitasking."
"Tell me you weren't lingerie shopping while on duty? Or better yet, tell me you were. That's a mental image I'll keep in mind every time you leave for work." He reaches beneath some of the lace, running his hands up her side, massaging the skin beneath his palms with slow, sensual circles.
She moans, fingers threading into the hair at the base of his neck. "A good witch never reveals her secrets."
"What about a good wife?"
She smiles at that. The kind of smile that paints her cheeks and neck pink with emotion. He peppers her face with tiny kisses, letting his nose skim up and down her neck. He'll never tire of this, the feel of her beneath his fingers. He'll also never tire of reminding her she belongs to him now. That they belong to each other.
She hikes her legs a little higher along his hips, rolling just enough to make him groan.
"Do you like it?"
"Truthfully I expected something a little more . . . pink?"
"Is the hair not enough?"
He kisses the bottom of her jaw, hands cupping the undersides of her breasts, clothed in intricate lace cups that he really doesn't want to destroy, but he's not sure he has the patience to take it off her properly. "I just know how fond you are of the colour."
"I can change if you want. I must have brought something you'll like," she teases. She rolls her hips again, harder, slower.
"No . . . ah, this is good." He swallows hard, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "I like the black. Really like it."
"I know you do. That's why I bought it." She helps lead his hand to the series of clasps at the bottom of her spine and laughs at his eagerness to undo them.
"Next time you do this kind of shopping, I want to come."
"How is that a surprise then?"
"Surprises are overrated." He surges forward and catches her face between his hands, lips melding against hers again.
She straddles his waist, pressing against his length.
"Dora . . . hmm . . ."
She tugs at his belt. "I don't need slow, Remus." His hands become more frantic against the black fabric and she catches them for just a second. "Just don't rip it. I like this one, too."
When he's divested her of the scanty lace and tossed it gently over the chair in the corner of the room, she lifts her hips enough for him to shimmy out of his pants.
"We're getting rather good at this," she notes, helping him kick the pants away with her feet.
"Must be all the practice," he says, voice strained.
"Well, you know, practice makes perfect and all that." She pulls her hips up, feeling the length of him line up against her center. She slides down, hissing her pleasure, a sound swallowed and repeated by Remus, and without preamble she begins to move.
It's faster than either of them was expecting, but she had told him she didn't need slow tonight. She didn't want it. With all the build-up and excitement after the wedding and the whirlwind surprise honeymoon, Tonks had wanted nothing more than to get Remus naked, and now that she had, she wasn't going to waste time.
Her arms shake against his chest. His hands find purchase against her hips, crashing them together. She finishes meeting each of his thrusts with this tiny roll and flick of her hips that has his hips canting wildly, uncontrollably.
Finally her fingers stiffen against his chest and he stills, her walls clenching with enough force to set him off. She collapses against his chest and he hugs her to him and the waves of pleasure course through them both.
He pulls out of her after a time and he feels her moan more than he hears it. The twist and roll of her hips tell him she's ready again, still tense and fired up and coiled for him.
He squeezes his hand down between their bodies and when his fingers dip against the throbbing bundle of nerves she gives a gasp, jolting up his body a bit, still sensitive, but receptive to his touch.
He takes it slow, this game of teasing touches, until she's straddling his waist, searching for friction against his hand.
It's a glorifying feeling, having her seek pleasure from his hand, knowing only he can make her feel this way. Her fingers wrap around his upper arms as she drives her hips down against his hand, undulating, soft moans and gasps of pleasure slipping between her lips.
"R—Remus," she groans, sucking in air as she bucks down hard.
He curls his fingers just right and the pressure and the angle are enough. She cries out, something that might have been his name, or just a series of swears—she's quite the curser in bed—and shudders hard, her entire body racked with tense tremors as she falls against his chest.
"Hi," he whispers after a long moment, pushing back her hair. They're both sweaty and slick.
"Wotcher."
"So what d'you think of the place?"
"The bedroom is great."
He laughs, low and throaty, and presses his lips against her hairline. "Let's try out the bathroom next. There's a claw foot tub I think you'll enjoy."
She makes a low sound in the back of her throat, something that sounds like approval before she rolls away from him, shimmying into some clothes. A smile tugs the corner of his mouth up as she pads across the room in a pair of knickers and his shirt. He doesn't think he's ever seen anything sexier in his life. She throws him a mischievous little wink over her shoulder and a second later he hears the bath running. He gives her a two minute head start before he joins her.
They sleep until noon the next day, the dark curtains leaving them to bask in their dreams as the sun spills into every other room in the house.
After their bath last night Remus had shown her the rest of the rooms. The cottage was larger than it first appeared, three bedrooms on the top floor—though the master was quickly becoming her favourite because of the adjoining bathroom—and a kitchen, den, and outdoor patio that overlooked the water on the lower level. For the most part the furniture was sparse and old. There were a lot of little things that needed repair, but the charm of the place was undeniable and the break from normal life was so welcomed she'd gladly sleep in a gnome hole if it meant five uninterrupted days with Remus.
When Tonks wakes finally, cocooned in a lavender quilt and Remus' arms, she's feeling much too delighted to actually get out of bed; like she's floating. If this is what death feels like she'd gladly accept, so long as she gets to spend it with Remus.
"Morning," he whispers, the sound tickling the back of her neck.
She snuggles further into the pillows, attempting to drown in the downy fluff. The furniture might have been old but the pillows were top of the line; she decides that if most of their honeymoon was going to be spent in this bed—and she hoped it was—that the pillows were coming home with her when they were all said and done.
She hums in response, patting his hand as it curls around her stomach.
"I wondered if you'd be getting up at all today."
"Well," she yawns, stretching like a cat, his fingers ghosting over her ribs. She rolls towards him and his arms tighten around her. "We did have quite an eventful night."
"We did."
"Does it continue into today? Or did you have other things on the agenda?"
"I think we should go into town. You'll love it."
"More than I love it here? In bed?"
"Well . . ." he kisses her forehead, "I do have to feed you sometime. I don't want you to burn out after all our activities."
Tonks nudges his arm, pulling a bundle of sheets with her, and laughs. "My stamina is fine. In fact it's great. Maybe for a few hours more." She reaches to catch his lips with hers, pulling his face down. Her stomach growls at the thought of food though.
He laughs. "Liar. We missed dinner last night and breakfast this morning."
"I really wanted to try out that tub last night."
"That was an adventure."
"One that I'd be partial to enjoying again." Her stomach grumbles again and he cocks an eyebrow at her. "Okay, fine," she concedes, sitting up. "We'll eat really, really fast."
She scoots off the bed, releasing a rather un-Tonks-like squeal when Remus smacks her ass, racing her to the bathroom. She returns the favour while he's unaware and brushing his teeth. It turns into a sort of naked wrestling match on the bed which leads to other things and then they opt just to start the morning—noon?—off with a shower.
They take turns soaping each other up and fighting over the hot water. There's far too much giggling involved for this time of the day and Tonks wonders if being married has made her soft. She's supposed to be an Auror. Wizard's are meant to cower in her presence. But right now she's squealing as Remus runs the loofa over her sides, pressing soft kisses into her hair.
When the water finally gives out they emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Somehow they manage to get dressed without undressing each other again, Remus looking particularly relaxed in his shorts and shirt and Tonks feeling altogether feminine in the short sundress.
"Will we blend in?"
"You could never," he says, though his tone and gaze are admiring.
She wraps an errant, pink curl around her finger. "Shall I morph to something more nondescript?'
"Never." He doesn't think they have to worry about Death Eater's recognizing them here. He hopes they don't. So he takes her hand and leads her outside. To her intense pleasure he doesn't take her to a spot to Apparate but threads their fingers together and starts them on a smooth, but overgrown walking trail along the beach.
Ten minutes later she smells frying fish and sugar coated something that has her mouth watering.
It's a whimsical little Muggle resort town that they come upon with shops and stalls that sell antiques and good, good food. Gosh, she's going to gain twenty pounds on this honeymoon.
They stop at a stall that's popped up for the summer rush and Remus buys her something that overflows on the card board plate in a greasy, delicious mess.
He leads her to a picnic table where a family has just cleared out and pushes the plate towards her.
"Remus, I can't eat all that."
"Then we'll share."
He raises his eyebrow and the plastic fork transfigures into two.
She smiles at his secret little use of magic. They could have easily shared the fork, but she thinks he knows how much his wandless magic fascinates her.
She takes one of the offered forks and digs in, moaning as the first bite slides down her throat, settling into her waiting stomach.
"Good?"
"Merlin, yes." She takes another bite before shoving the plate towards him. "Eat. You'll have to keep up your stamina if you plan to keep up with me for the rest of this trip." The subtle smile she gives him around her fork as she drags it out of her mouth and over her lips has him shifting in his seat. It's dark and sultry and he wonders if anyone would notice if he launched across the table and Apparated them both back to the cottage. If he was quick about it the Muggles would pass it off as a crack of lightning sounding over the ocean.
He settles instead for leaning across the table and kissing her breathless, his fingers holding her chin.
When he pulls away her cheeks are flushed the same colour as her hair. He loves that he can do that to her. He also loves the fact that she struggles to morph the blush away as he watches her.
"You do that on purpose," she accuses, though she sounds more breathless than mad.
"You drive me crazy."
Her foot finds his leg beneath the table and she slips out of her sandal to run bare skin over bare skin.
He swallows, watching her eyes darken. "Now who's doing it on purpose?"
"All's fair in love and war." She tips her head and the breeze drags her hair over her shoulder. She slips the strap of her dress back up as it slides down her skin.
She doesn't know it, but she's the most breathtaking thing out here.
"I love you," he blurts out and for a moment she looks surprised.
Maybe he hasn't said it enough. He knows he's shown her. He knows she feels it. But it's that initial look of shock before the elation sets in that makes him promise to tell her every single day.
"I love you, too," she echoes.
There are old retiree couples milling about the town, giving them the nostalgic kind of once over as they pass. Remus secretly hopes that'll be them someday, hands entwined, Tonks still looking at him with that glowing smile of hers.
After they finish eating they wander the town, spending little bits of Muggle money on souvenirs. They're both surprisingly good with Muggle money—Remus from his days as a poverty enforced werewolf and Tonks because her dad was a Muggle-born—making passing for non-wizards that much easier.
The locals wish them luck in their marriage, it's obvious that they're on their honeymoon from the way they're staring at each other, all wide eyes and sighs, and the way they can't keep their hands off each other.
Remus has taken to running his fingers under Tonks' hair, over her exposed shoulders, loving the way she snuggles into his side at they walk. Sirius would probably laugh at him if he saw how love-struck his cousin has made him. He'd be ecstatic in secret, but the teasing would have been relentless.
They pass a rickety looking shack with fairy lights strung along the roof and dangling over the edges. A pack of children race around the building and back to the beach, carrying an array of goodies that end up more in the sand than in their mouths.
"Let's get ice cream," Tonks says, catching his hand on her shoulder and tugging him towards the building.
"I couldn't eat another bite," Remus laughs, following her willingly. "How can you possibly be hungry?"
"It's just ice cream," she says in a tone that suggests ice cream and food fall into very different categories and therefore they should have plenty of room to indulge. It makes little sense to him but she's smiling in that glowing way that makes his heart skip into his throat so he pays the man. He'd buy the entire shack for her if she wanted him to—he do anything for her when she looks at him like that—though he thinks she deserves much more than a wooden roof held up by poles.
She gets chocolate swirl and when she's licked the top of the cone, hummed in approval and pulled him off to the side of the shack so the line up behind them can get to their ice cream, presses her lips to his in a long, cold kiss.
It sends an exhilarating thrill down his spine, the ice of her lips contrasted so deliciously against the warm sweetness of her mouth.
"You did that just to tempt me," he hums when she pulls away.
"No, I got the chocolate to tempt you. This," she presses her lips to his again, "is just for me."
They stay tangled for so long the ice cream starts to melt.
With some quick wand work Remus remedies the problem and Tonks adores him all the more: this man that stops her ice cream from melting.
It melts her heart instead.
They sit on a bench under a group of willow trees that surround the shack and the breeze is light and nice.
There's slow jazz playing over the radio from the shack and when the ice cream is mostly gone Remus tips the cone into the trash and pulls Tonks up to dance. The sun has set and the fairy lights sparkle behind them.
"I don't dance, Remus," she says, clinging to his shoulders like he's just asked her to jump off a bridge "You know this. I am a hazard to box steps."
"Good thing I'm graceful enough for the both of us then."
He twirls them and spins them and Tonks closes her eyes, feeling tipsy and dizzy, almost like she's been drinking, but she hasn't. She's filled with happiness and love and as he pulls her close, hands on her hips, thumbs tracing circles against her thighs through the sun dress, something closer to lust.
The emotion starts in her chest, spreading out and tightening in the bottom of her stomach. Familiar. Teasing.
She runs her hands down his chest.
She wants him.
"I think we should go back to the cottage," she says, voice husky with need.
Remus stops their dance to look down at her, his eyes widening as she pulls him in for a kiss that is almost not safe for a public display.
When she breaks away he nods against her forehead, drags her blindly into the willows and with a crack, they both disappear.
"Dora, slow down," Remus chuckles, attempting to still the hands that are everywhere at once, tugging and pulling and reaching and caressing. Oh, those tempting little hands.
He manages to get them on the bed, her sprawled out beneath him, an ocean of pink hair framing her head.
"Oh, don't give me that Remus Lupin. You've been eyeballing me all night. I saw the way you looked at me when we were sitting at the picnic table. You wanted to jump me then."
"Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Lupin?"
She gives a shuddering kind of groan at that, loving the sound of Mrs. Lupin and simultaneously hating how it makes her go weak in the knees; he laughs as she struggles with his belt.
"Have you charmed it closed?" she gasps.
"And what if I have?"
She groans then and flops back on the bed. "Remus, I swear―"
He crawls over her, slow, his body suspended above hers. "What, love? Tell me." He presses a chaste kiss to her temple, another to her cheek. She's pulls on his shirt, dragging his body closer to hers, but he resists for the minute, liking this game of cat and mouse.
"I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands if you don't take these off," she husks, fingering his belt loops. His lips are pressed behind her ear, nibbling teasing nothings against her skin.
He continues to ignore her hips, keeping his firmly out of reach until her hand disappears from his face, from the tight hold she had on his jaw to kiss him. It moves down her body, desperate for some sort of friction.
He drops against her, chest against chest, knees on either side of her thighs, and his hands snake down to catch hers. He pins them above her head.
"I'll have none of that," he whispers against her neck and she's already arching into him, hips meeting his in an offbeat rhythm.
"Don't play with me, Remus," she says, hooking her leg around his back, keeping him that much closer. He shifts, his pants becoming tight.
"Tell me what you want love," he answers, letting his hips roll over hers.
She moans. "That. More of that."
"And?"
"Touch me."
He buries his head against her shoulder as he brings their hips together again. He kisses her collar bone, letting his fingers slip beneath the waistband of her panties. He's suddenly very grateful for the sundress and the access it gives him. He skims his fingers along the edge of silky lace and his insides roll in somersaults.
She gasps against his ear, a series of shuddering almost moans. "Yes," she whispers. And his fingers disappear beneath the fabric and inside of her.
Her hips buck and roll as he explores, her knees squeezing his hips.
She's wet for him and ready. So very, very ready. And as much as he wants to bury himself in her now, he also wants to give her the immediate release she's been craving since dragging him in here by his collar and her lips.
He finds the tight bud of nerve endings and presses down with two slick fingers. She cries out, enough to send his heart racing and he shifts against her, another wandless spell loosening his belt.
When he slips inside her she melts like jelly beneath him.
And he loves her. He has since the first moment he saw her. And as content as he had been with her in this relationship. To hold her and treasure her and call her his. He likes this part of it too. Very much. There's less fear now and just excitement and pleasure. So much pleasure that he's not sure how either of them can even walk most mornings.
When the coils of energy inside them both finally explode, they lie in contented bliss, Tonks dragging her finger along the path of scars on Remus' chest.
"I don't ever want to leave here," she says. "Can't we just stay? Forever. It's so peaceful."
"We could, if you wanted."
"Don't tease me."
"I'm not." He runs his fingers languidly over her arm. "This place . . . it belonged to my parents once upon a time. It's where I lived up until the year I was bit."
Tonks sits up, pulling the comforter with her. She's very pale in the moonlight, almost like an angel and her slight frown makes him want to kiss her again. "Why didn't you say so?"
He tucks an arm behind his head. "I didn't want you to feel obligated. I know you're fond of your flat in the city." It was much easier trying to convince her to like and move into a place that she already seemed to like. If he had told her he had a dusty little shack of a cottage next to the ocean in the middle of nowhere she probably would have looked at him funny, but being here, nestled in bed under the soft patter of rain on the roof and the gentle hum of the ocean beyond, was a completely different truth, one she wouldn't be able to ignore.
She'd gotten caught up in the spell just like he knew she would.
The sex had probably helped a little, too.
"When you told you me you were going to take care of the living situation I never expected this."
"Surprise," he whispers. "Consider it a late wedding gift in progress. I'll get it fixed up. You can have a garden. We can walk the beach whenever you want. And I hear there's ice cream in town if you can drag yourself away from this bed long enough."
She laughs at him, swatting his arm. "So we can stay?" she says, her hand leaving his arm and skimming his chest.
"We can stay." He catches her hand and presses a kiss against her ring finger. "We'll get moved in this week."