Harry found himself at a loss for words.

Tonks, fortunately, did not.

"I fucking knew it," Tonks said, pacing the floor of the vacated Auror office, but mostly the ten or so yards of carpet in front of an increasingly panicked looking Jeffers.

Kingsley had taken Richard and Margery, and Alicia and Jake to St Mungo's to receive treatment. Dudley was in the staff kitchen talking to Hugh and Sally-Anne, while Jane watched on with enough focus to render every detail of the conversation to memory.

"No one's that shit at being an Auror. It's impossible," Tonks continued.

Meanwhile, Harry and Tonks were left to their own devices, awaiting Kingsley's return so that they could finally administer the Veritaserum.

"So, when did it happen?" Tonks asked, her hair swirling into flaming red, her skin flushing into an accent of a similar shade. "When did you go dirty?" A muscle in her jaw shifted. "Hogwarts? Joining the force?" She slammed her hand against a desk. "When?"

"I'm not dirty," said Jeffers, his voice returned to his own irritatingly toffish accent, rather than that which he'd borrowed directly from Draco Malfoy. "There's been a misunderstanding."

Tonks threw her hands into the air. "There's not a lot to misunderstand here, dickhead. You dressed up like a Death Eater, attacked a muggle — who's your own fucking uncle, by the way — and threatened to kill two Aurors, as well as a whole hotel full of people. Aurors, by the way, who are supposed to be your co-workers!"

Her voice had climbed as she spoke such that, by the end of her impassioned speech, she'd drawn the eye of the four other people there.

She drew a deep breath.

"You're lucky your uncle's alive," said Tonks. "A man that old, feeling magic for the first time?" She shook her head. "You could've killed him. Your own family."

That caught Jeffers' attention. "Is he alright?" he asked.

"He will be, but that's not yours to concern yourself over, given you're the one that put him in St Mungo's."

"I didn't mean to do that."

"Oh, so you're just an idiot?" Tonks asked. "Or is it something else? The Imperius defence, is it?" She looked over toward Harry. "Mind doing the spell?"

Harry nodded, brandishing his wand. "Serotonius Dominous," he cast, his magic passing over Jeffers.

If he'd been under the Imperius, he would then, after passing through the Thief's Downfall, suffer from total or near-total depletion of the serotonin in his body, with the Imperius Curse having held him in an artificial state of euphoria.

Yet, he did not suffer in that manner. His mind was not depleted.

Harry shook his head.

"So, what's the misunderstanding?" Tonks asked. "Is this all a joke? Is the threat of taking innocent lives a joke to you?"

Jeffers had no answer. And indeed, he did not need one, as Kingsley apparated into the Auror Office at that very moment, once more with Goldstein and Jones.

In his hands he held one vial, filled with a clear fluid that was, by all appearances, water. Every Auror in that room knew what it was.

Veritaserum.

"Finally," said Tonks, already halfway out of the door in her rush to the interrogation room.

Harry walked over to Jeffers and lifted him from his seat, dragging him to the interrogation room, with Kingsley and Tonks leading the way. Goldstein and Jones stayed behind in the office leading, Harry realised absently, to a school reunion for Sally-Anne.

When they arrived at the interrogation room, Tonks pulled the door open and Harry pushed Jeffers inside. Harry led Jeffers to his chair, and then left the room and locked it, forming a huddle with Kingsley and Tonks outside.

"Did you get anything out of the vanishing cabinet?" Tonks asked Kingsley.

Kingsley shook his head. "Only that it is the vanishing cabinet that the Death Eaters used. Merlin only knows how he managed to get his hands on that." He pointed to the other interrogation room, opposite from the one that then housed Jeffers. "I stored it in there and locked it. No one has come through and I doubt they will, but if they do, they'll be stuck in there."

The Head Auror pushed his hand forward, holding the Veritaserum out for them to take. Tonks did so quickly.

"I'll get a head start on processing the witness testimonies," Kingsley said. "The room is recording, so anything you find will be useable in any court case mounted against William Jeffers."

Tonks grinned. "Just like old times, innit?" Kingsley gave her a quizzical look. "Us three, at the office about a thousand hours too late on a case. Catching Death Eaters. Making sure the world stays spinning."

Kingsley gave her a small, fond smile. "Good work you two," he said. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better."

He walked on, leaving the two to question Jeffers. But as he passed, he gave both of them a pat on the shoulder. Harry attempted to smile, but his face remained blank and impassive.

"So," Tonks said, turning her attention to Harry, "good cop, bad cop?"

"We have Veritaserum," he said. "I don't think we need to do that."

"Boring."

"I'm sorry that doing our job properly is so boring to you." Harry folded his arms. "If you wanted interesting, you should've just been a curse breaker."

Tonks frowned, her hair sweeping into violet. "Their job isn't that interesting."

"It saved our arse today. We owe Fleur another bottle of wine."

"That can be your job," said Tonks. "Buying her wine is impossible. The woman's dad owns a vineyard."

"She likes the wine I buy her."

"That's cos you're her favourite," said Tonks. "You're Victoire's godfather, for God's sake."

Harry smiled. "You're her godmother."

Tonks smiled. "Well yeah, but I'm cool. You're not," she said. Harry rolled his eyes. "Ready to go in?"

"Let's get this over with."

Usually, the first part of Veritaserum investigations was always the hardest part. That being to actually get the suspect to swallow the potion in the first place.

However, with such awful allegations as those levied against Jeffers, it became far easier, as many of the limits within which Aurors usually operated were taken away.

"Petrificus Totalus," cast Tonks, the very moment they walked into the room, her wand pointed directly between Jeffers' eyes.

Immediately, the turncoat Auror's body froze in place, his eyes his only feature that could move or act of their own free will. They flashed around the room in clear panic, his pupils dilated until the blue of his irises disappeared.

Harry walked toward Jeffers and grabbed hold of his jaw. He pried open the other man's mouth, Tonks' spell locking his muscles tightly. Once opened, Tonks poured several ounces of the potion down his throat.

When she stopped, Harry pulled Jeffers' neck back, with gravity forcing the potion down his throat, and truths subsequently from his lips. Harry held his head back for only ten seconds. And, after checking his mouth to ensure beyond any doubt that the Veritaserum was in his system, he nodded to Tonks to dispel the body-bind curse.

"Don't!" begged Jeffers, his bound hands held up in his plea. "Please!"

"It's a bit too late for that now," said Tonks. "What's your name?"

Jeffers forced his teeth to bite together, nearly slicing through his gums with the force of it.

Contrary to common belief, pure Veritaserum, which Harry and Tonks were then using, was completely irresistible. Its greatest weakness was that the purest Veritaserum, whilst the most potent, remained active for the shortest duration when compared to weaker forms that had been altered with maintaining agents. An effective dose, of one droplet, would last for only five minutes. The dose Jeffers had received would last for twenty minutes.

Yet, once within the subject's bloodstream, as it then grew to be in Jeffers', there was not a wizard or witch, dead or alive, that could prevent its effects.

And so, no matter how tightly Jeffers held himself or how resolutely he held his jaw closed, his mouth still opened.

"William Henry Jeffers."

"Date of birth?"

"Eighteenth of November, nineteen-eighty-four."

"Occupation?"

"Junior Auror."

Tonks' nostrils flared. "Are you a Death Eater?"

"No."

Harry's eyes widened. "Are you sympathetic to the Death Eater's beliefs, such as the supremacy or purebloods, and of wizards over muggles?" he asked.

"No."

Harry placed his hands on the table in the interrogation room. "Why did you target Sally-Anne Perks?"

"I didn't."

Harry and Tonks shared a gasp.

"Who was your target?" Tonks asked.

Jeffers' throat tightened agonisingly, but the words still came. "Hugh Sumner."

"Why did you target Hugh Sumner?" Tonks quickly followed with.

"Because he's not a Sumner."

"What is he?"

Silence followed.

"What is Hugh Sumner's true last name?"

"He's—he's a G-Greenwich."

"What?" Harry and Tonks both asked.

Nothing came.

"How?" Harry asked. "How is he a Greenwich?"

"Bastard children take their mother's maiden names."

"So, his mother is Margery Jeffers née Greenwich?"

"Yes."

"Who is his father?"

Jeffers brought a hand to cover his mouth, his other dropping to his throat to strangle the air away, yet still it was not enough.

"Stephen Sumner."

"Why did you attempt to kill Hugh Sumner?"

"I was ordered to."

"By who?" Harry asked. "Who ordered you?"

Jeffers writhed fitfully in his seat, his body nearly tearing itself apart as he spoke.

"Richard Jeffers."

Without conscious thought, Harry found his legs walking to Tonks' side, just as she did to him.

They wrapped an arm around the waist of one another, their heads leaning in.

"What the fuck?" Tonks whispered.

Harry nodded, his head brushing hers. "I know right?" he agreed. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

"We were right all along!" she said. "Ready?"

"Ready."

…...

They broke apart and resumed their positions. Tonks behind Jeffers, Harry in front.

"Why did Richard Jeffers order you to kill Hugh Sumner?"

Jeffers slumped in his chair, defeated. "He couldn't stand the shame of his best friend getting his wife pregnant. She's not been able to get pregnant since Hugh, and it's his biggest embarrassment."

"But why now?" Harry asked. "Why you?"

"He found out about magic."

"How did he find out?"

"My parents told him. It got my Dad promoted at Richard's office."

"So that's why you polyjuiced yourself as Malfoy?" Harry asked. "To bury the lead? To make sure Richard wouldn't be implicated? To allow it to appear as a Death Eater plot?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes."

"But why did you do it?" Tonks asked, her face wincing.

"Money."

"You'd kill an innocent man for money?" Harry asked. He'd hardly meant the words as a question. "Your own cousin?"

"Yes," said Jeffers. "He offered fifty million pounds."

And he'd never even imagined being caught, of course.

"You'd throw your entire life away — your career, magic — for fifty million?" Tonks asked.

"It won't be my life," said Jeffers. "There'll be another Dark Lord in ten years. It's just how this country is."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his eyes closing. "That's not a gamble I'd take," he said.

Tonks mirrored Harry's action, sending her hair into a chaos of infernos. "Why didn't you just tamper with the wards?" she asked. "It'd be easier than this."

"I didn't know how to without you noticing."

Harry thanked God that Auror training wasn't quite that comprehensive. "So, what was your plan?" Harry asked. Silence followed, Jeffers' mouth slamming shut. "How did you intend to kidnap and then kill Hugh?"

"To wait until tonight, and then kidnap him at gunpoint," said Jeffers. "I'd take him to the vanishing cabinet, and then kill him once he'd been moved."

Once Harry and Tonks had gotten wind of the cabinet, they were likely forced to take other measures.

"Other than Richard, were you working alone?" Harry asked.

"No."

Harry and Tonks stood to attention. "Who else were you working with?"

"Graham Montague," Jeffers said. Harry opened his mouth to question him further, but Jeffers spared him the effort. "He was the one that gave me the vanishing cabinet and the demiguise cloaks. I offered him one million pounds, and he gave me it all the very next day. His house is where the other cabinet is."

Both Harry and Tonks lifted their eyes to look at one another.

For a Hufflepuff, Jeffers held no great value in loyalty.

"Is Montague a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

"No," said Jeffers. "He's just poor. He needed the money to repay his family's debts. They funded the Death Eaters under the Imperius. After the war, they couldn't repay the loans they were forced to take."

"Fuck," said Tonks, quietly. "What did he give you?"

"Just the cabinets and the demiguise cloaks. It's all his contacts could get him," Jeffers said. "He told me how to make it look like a Death Eater job with what he remembered from being under the Imperius. He told me to hit Hendricks with a sleeping charm, so when Graham impersonated him, he could get away with it easier. He could blame the difference in personality on the side effects of the sleeping charm."

Tonks' hair shifted into black. "Montague was impersonating Hendricks?"

"Yes. That's why I rushed to offer to do surveillance at the Lansbury. That way, Montague wouldn't need to come to the Ministry, and so his polyjuice wouldn't fade away. It was his idea."

"You sneaky fucker," she said. "Where is Hendricks?"

"He's locked up at Montague's. We were never going to hurt him. Just change his memory. There was no reason for him to die."

Tonks could only shake her head.

"Wait," Harry said. Harry looked at his watch. They didn't have much longer left with the Veritaserum. "So, Montague told you to attack Stephen Sumner?"

"Yes," said Jeffers. "That was his idea."

"Why did you not kill him, then? Why leave him alive?"

"I couldn't go through with it," said Jeffers, blankly. His head began to nod, seemingly drifting off to sleep. "Stephen was never in the agreement. There would be no point in killing him."

"And the poisoned whisky?"

"We wanted you to find it," said Jeffers, his head tipping back. "To—to make you-you think it w-was Malfoy….." His eyes closed. "…Knew it was you…. knew you'd want it to be him…."

With the Veritaserum inside Jeffers spent, and the man himself unconscious, Harry and Tonks left him to his own devices, sleeping behind the locked door of the interrogation room.

Kingsley was waiting for them outside of that very room, his arms folded and his back leaning against the wall. Somehow, his spine was still perfectly straight.

"I was listening," Kingsley said, pushing himself off of the wall. "When he mentioned Graham Montague, I dispatched Goldstein and Jones to the Montague home in Lancashire. They confirmed about a minute ago that Graham Montague is there."

Harry looked toward Tonks. "We're going?"

"Let's finish this case properly," she said.

Tonks extended her hand, which Harry took.

"This is going to be insane to explain to Sally-Anne and Hugh," Harry said to Kingsley. "It's just going to be impossible to explain, full stop. A billionaire caught up in a murder conspiracy? There's going to be so many eyes on this case."

"Fortunately, your job is almost done," said Kingsley. "The rest of the DMLE has to concern itself with Richard Jeffers. Once you've brought in Montague, your hands are clean."

"Thank God," said Harry. "I didn't get into the Aurors to play at being Sherlock Holmes." He shook his head. "This case is so ridiculous."

Tonks and Kingsley shared a look.

"I'm relieved it's not the Death Eaters," Harry said. "I'd just rather not be cleaning up the messes of rich pricks." He met Tonks' gaze, spotting the amused quirk of her lips. "Shall we just get this over with?"

"Certainly, Mr Holmes," Tonks said.

Tonks squeezed his hand, squeezed her eyes shut, and then they soon were shunted into the middle of a village square. A church speared into the sky, and quaint shops lined the road they stood on, selling books and knick-knacks. Their continuous alignment only briefly halted by the occasional pub.

Upon closer inspection, however, many of the shops were boarded up, and had been for some time.

"How did you know where the Montagues live?" Harry asked as they landed, and the minor discomfort of apparition faded.

"Old pureblood family," said Tonks. "Mum knows them."

Goldstein and Jones were waiting at the end of the road. Fortunately, they'd possessed enough foresight to transfigure their robes into muggle clothes.

On tired legs, Harry and Tonks ran to meet them where they stood, outside of a cottage, no different than any that bordered it. One storey and a driveway, though no car. A small garden with well-manicured grass and a rose bush.

Tonks nodded in greeting, smoothing away the front of the dress she still wore. She'd put on a leather jacket as the sky had turned darker, the weather having turned colder. "This is the house."

Jones nodded. "There's a few wards on the premises, but we've not been able to work out what they are exactly," she said. "They're old though. They haven't put on anything since we've arrived."

"I doubt they'll be anything much," Tonks said. "They're an older family, but not one of those ones." Megan Jones looked at her quizzically. "They're not the Lestranges or anything."

"Who's in there?" Harry asked.

"All three," said Megan. Mother, son, and likely Hendricks, Harry reasoned.

"Good." Tonks walked ahead of Goldstein and Jones, Harry following along. "We'll lead. Stay on the outskirts of the wards, and if you hear anything, you have permission to follow at once. Otherwise, stay out here."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Jones and Goldstein.

Tonks and Harry drew their wands, and after taking their own tests of the wards in the area and coming to the same conclusion as the other two Aurors, they took their first step across the boundary of the wards.

To their surprise, the cottage did not change in dimensions once beyond the magic that protected it. It was as small as it first appeared, and as normal as it first appeared. They did not feel any ill effects upon walking on their property, either.

It truly was strangely mundane.

For a moment, Harry thought they'd arrived at the wrong house. Only one moment.

As they approached the door, the curtain that laid across the windowpane shifted and a blue eye poked through to watch them. It disappeared as quickly as it came.

Harry lifted his hand to knock upon the door, but Tonks caught it before he could. She shook her head, and Harry's arm dropped.

Not yet, she meant. Take a moment. Allow your tired mind to catch up to reality, and your tired body to catch its breath. Montague's fate was sealed; its enactment could wait.

"What was Montague like at school?" Tonks asked. "Outside of the sort of person that gets stuck in vanishing cabinets, of course."

"Quidditch player," said Harry shrugging. "Good flyer. Slytherin. No idea other than that."

Tonks sighed.

"Can you believe about Richard?" she asked, her eyes flashing into green with her excitement. "I mean, we knew there was something off with him, I just never expected that."

"Just proves my long-held theory that all rich people are fucking weird," Harry said. "If it bothered you that much, just break up with her. He chose to make himself miserable his entire life. I mean, why spend twenty years like that?"

"Rich as he is too," Tonks added. "I mean, he obviously loves Margery, even if she did cheat on him while they were married. But surely he can realise that she's the one that hurt him, not the kid that never asked to be born?"

"Just 'cos he's rich doesn't mean he's smart," Harry said. Tonks nodded. "I'm proof enough of that."

Tonks laughed. "You don't count. You're not the reason you're rich."

"I think that makes it worse."

"You're also not dumb." Tonks' hair spun into violet. "Based on the past four hours, you're a genius, if we compare you to everyone you went to school with."

"It's what happens when all the staff are secretly Voldemort. No one gets taught anything," Harry said. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, let's get this over with."

Harry knocked on the door, his hand this time unimpeded by Tonks. He knocked once, twice, thrice.

No answer.

"Graham Montague!" called out Harry. "We know you're in there." He sighed. "We know you've got Hendricks, too."

Harry knocked again, and again nothing. In the road outside, several curtains began to shift at the commotion.

"If you cooperate, your sentence will be reduced," said Tonks. She cast a muffling charm before she spoke again. "However, if you don't cooperate, you will be tried as a Death Eater, and imprisoned accordingly. Need I remind you that acting as a Death Eater is an act of treason, and so carries a life sentence."

Feet scuttled across the carpet behind the door, and soon the door swung backwards. It did not reveal Graham Montague, but rather his mother, her eyes wide and damp, shimmering in the candlelight of her hallway.

"He—he'll be out in a moment," she said, her voice wavering. "Please—please take care of him. Please. He didn't mean to do this, I-it's all my fault." She wrung her hands out. "All he was trying to do was protect me. He never meant for this to happen. Dora, you know my family. You know we're not these people. Graham isn't like this, you know he's not." She pushed her own hands forward, her wrists brought together. "Take me instead!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs Montague," said Tonks, a note of genuine contrition in her words. "But we all know that's not possible."

"It's just not fair," said Mrs Montague, tears finally falling from her blue eyes. "His life wasn't supposed to be this." She stared at Harry. "If you'd done a better job, he'd never have gotten caught up in any of this."

"I know, Ma'am," said Harry, weary. "I know."

There were so very many wounds and scars of the war. Of Voldemort. This was yet another of them.

Harry was tired of them. Tired of seeing the pain without ever seeing healing.

He was tired.

Footsteps emanated from behind Mrs Montague. Two pairs.

"Graham Montague?" Tonks asked as Montague and Hendricks appeared behind Mrs Montague.

Graham looked exactly as he had ten years ago. Still powerfully built, his hair still the same shade of brown. His eyes still blue, his cheeks still round. He didn't have a beard or even a hint of one. He, it seemed, was stuck, forever in late adolescence.

Except that he was holding the body of an unconscious Auror, James Hendricks. And that he was going to spend that night in a prison cell, and he wasn't going to spend another night outside of one for a long, long time.

"I'm Graham Montague," he said with a resigned nod.

His head remained bowed solemnly. He made no move to attack, nor did he seem to want to. Even to Harry's watchful eyes, there was no danger to him.

Harry walked into the house to take Hendricks from his arms. Montague nearly dropped him in his haste to let go, Harry's form sagging with the newfound weight.

"Surrender your wand, Montague," Harry said, once he'd secured Hendricks. "Now, please."

Montague reached into his pocket; Tonks did exactly the same. He slowly pulled out his wand, rolling the wood in between his thumb and forefinger, as if studying it. Committing its feeling to memory.

Slowly, he squatted down and dropped the wand upon the ground, and kicked the wand in Tonks' direction. Tonks squatted to take it in hand.

Quickly, she rose to her feet. "Turn around," she commanded. Montague did so, his hand placed behind himself as well.

"Please, don't do this," begged Mrs Montague, curling into herself. She fell to her knees. "He's all I have."

"Graham Montague," said Tonks. She reached into her jacket and retrieved a set of handcuffs, placing them upon Montague's wrists. They snapped on under their own power, binding his arms still. "You're under arrest, under suspicion of aiding in a conspiracy to murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

Mrs Montague's words failed, her voice too taken by the sobs that ran through her as Harry and Tonks led her son away.

Tonks rushed onward with Montague, rejoining Jones and Goldstein. Harry, however, was slower to move, with Hendricks upon his shoulder.

He gave one final look to. Mrs Montague as he left, kneeling on the floor as she was then, her form as small as it could possibly be. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her face folded into her arms as she cried.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, as he closed the door to her home. The door clicked shut. "I'm sorry."

He left the limits of their wards, weighed down as he was then. All he could think was that he hoped he was never there again.

Seeing the inside of the Auror Office once again brought with it some relief, as it always did at the end of a case. This relief was of the greatest kind, too, as every party they'd been tasked to protect came out protected. Sally-Anne, Hugh, all of their guests. They would wake tomorrow, alive, free, and unburdened. There had been many a day that they could not claim that.

All except for Richard, who would wake tomorrow in handcuffs, and Margery, who'd lost her husband, likely forever.

Yet, in some ways, that relief was felt less than most, too. Before, it had been the reminder of why Harry had chosen the line of work that he had. That, without him, there would be more Death Eaters and dark wizards on the streets. He'd cleaned away a great swath of the dirt that muddied the foundations of their society.

They'd not cleaned anything that night. The world was as dirty as ever.

It'd ended with a whimper and not a bang. But still, nothing had changed.

And, as Harry walked to his desk, fresh from dropping Hendricks at St Mungo's, he knew it wouldn't get any cleaner with him in the Auror office.

There was relief to be found, though. Relief in Kingsley's brow losing its furrow as the case drew closed. In Hugh and Sally-Anne, with an arm around the other, nearly sleeping as they waited to be taken back to the Lansbury Hotel. Even in Dudley and Jane, who wore no signs of tiredness, taking a desk and writing reports as if their lives depended on it.

But, mostly in Tonks. She rushed over to Harry as he walked in, her arms finding their home around his waist. Harry wrapped her in himself, her head placed against his heart.

"I can't wait to get into bed," Harry whispered into her hair. It shifted into blonde against his lips.

"I'm not arguing," Tonks said, the words muffled, "It's hardly talk for the Auror Office though, don't you think?"

"I meant sleeping."

"I bet you did."

Harry bit back his reply as Kingsley approached them. Tonks left his arms too, though remained in his touch.

"Nicely done, you two," said Kingsley. He turned from them to look upon the room at large; his eyes taking in the domain of his stewardship. "You squared it all away before the wedding even took place. Montague and Jeffers are behind bars, and Jeffers will never dirty the Auror office ever again. That's a great day of work."

"Last thing Sally-Anne needed was the worst parts of our world ruining yet another part of her life," Harry said. Tonks hummed in agreement. "They'll even get their wedding without any wizards there, just like she wanted."

"The only question that remains is how I allowed Jeffers to go dirty under my watch, and make it as far as he did without me noticing," Kingsley said. "I think it might be a sign that a change might be necessary. A younger set of eyes to see the details that I'm missing."

Harry squeezed Tonks' hand.

"You've always been meant for higher seats, King," she said. "No details to see when you're sat high enough that we all look like ants."

"Minister Shacklebolt sounds pretty good, too," said Harry. Kingsley smiled. "Would be nice to have a Minister I didn't want to punch in the face."

"Give it six months," said Kingsley. "You'll be wanting to go twelve rounds with me." He drew a deliberate breath. "However, until then, I think you two have earned a small break, so you've got the rest of the week off."

Harry and Tonks shared a blinding grin.

"And though you can refuse it if you want to, the room you're staying in is booked until Friday, and I'm not about to cancel that," added Kingsley, turning to walk away, heading toward Kingsley and Jane. "You might be able to squeeze in a round of golf if you wish to."

"Why not?" Tonks asked Harry, as Kingsley disappeared from hearing distance. "There were a few things we never got around to doing."

Harry wrapped an arm around Tonks' shoulders, leaning upon her. "The first better be sleeping."

"God, you're such an old man." Tonks yawned that very moment. "Okay, we're both old. We can sleep, and then tomorrow we can have our fun."

Harry couldn't think of anything better.

Beleaguered, Harry and Tonks made their way over to Sally-Anne and Hugh, both of which were nodding in and out of sleep, their heads swayingly heavy. Sally-Anne was using Hugh's shoulder as a pillow; an act that their standing three feet away didn't change.

Eventually, Harry cleared his throat and Sally-Anne and Hugh's eyes snapped open, instantly their spines straightening into perfect posture.

"We've got everything sorted," said Tonks. "We've all been awake long enough today, so I think it's best we go to bed, and then after the wedding, you can ask whatever questions you feel you need to."

"I think that's a good idea," said Hugh. "I don't think I can handle anything more after learning magic is real." He met Harry's eyes. "It is real, isn't it? I wasn't just hallucinating, was I?"

Harry brandished his wand, thought 'Incendio', and a fire was birthed at its tip. "Very real," he said. Hugh gasped.

"We're going to teleport us all back to the hotel," said Tonks. "You've got to take our hands."

Hugh and Sally-Anne grabbed each other's hands, and their free hands took Harry and Tonks'.

At once, they were back in the middle of that hotel toilet Harry and Tonks had frequented twice before. Once again, it remained deserted.

Both Hugh and Sally-Anne rushed for the toilets to void their stomachs; the inevitable after-effect of their first-ever apparition. They left the bathroom quickly afterwards, hurrying to leave that particular sensation far behind.

Harry and Tonks followed them out, albeit slightly slower. Even with their mission behind them, their hands were still in one another's. Their hips still brushed against one another as they walked. They still found themselves looking at each another and smiling for no particular reason. Even through the exhaustion they both felt, they smiled.

Both couples walked to the lifts, though awaited different ones. To the right, Sally-Anne and Hugh headed for the fourth floor. To the left, Harry and Tonks, heading for the sixth floor.

"I'm not going to pretend like I understand any of what went on today," said Hugh. "But, I know you two saved my life, and you saved the love of my life, too. And, for that, I can only offer my sincerest thanks." He smiled. "If you two are sticking around, I'd love to share a drink and learn a little about what I missed."

"If you'd like to," said Tonks. "I think we'd love to."

Sally-Anne smiled; the first one Harry had seen her wear that did not appear painfully forced. "Thank you," she said.

Both lifts dinged open then.

Hugh extended a hand to shake. First to Tonks, and then to Harry.

"Nice to meet you," he said, walking backwards into the lift. "Thank you."

"Good luck," both Harry and Tonks said.

They waited until their lift door closed before they entered into their own.

Harry pressed the button for the sixth floor. They watched the door slowly slide closed.

The lift dinged closed.

And then Harry was upon Tonks.

He took two steps toward her and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her against him, his mouth upon hers with utter hunger. Ravenous, as he tasted her lips, her mouth, her tongue, for the first time. Just as she tasted him, her mouth needing his.

Harry pushed Tonks back until her arse met the glass of the lift wall, and then he lifted her in the air, her legs wrapped around his waist as she found herself trapped in Harry's arms, and in turn holding him close to her, his whole being grasped by her thighs.

Tonks' lips left his to trail kisses down his jaw, her tongue lathing affection along a path of his flushed skin until she reached his neck. She sucked at the skin there, her teeth nipping gently as she did, leaving red marks that were sure to remain for days afterwards.

"Oh, baby," Tonks moaned against him.

Harry threaded his hands through her hair, finally feeling the soft locks that had fascinated him for so long, feeling the magic thrum through the fibres of her. It was intoxicating. Tonks was intoxicating.

And then, Tonks began to suck hard into Harry's skin, and he could not remain there anymore. He moaned, his hands greedy as he touched her every part, and he closed his eyes.

When he opened them, they were inside their bedroom. Tonks' legs were still wrapped around Harry, and so he carried them into bed, slowly dropping Tonks' beautiful form onto the cushions.

She made to get up, to seek out his body, to continue what she'd begun in the lift, yet Harry took hold of her wrists and held them above her head.

Tonks grinned up at him, though it quickly fell away to an open-mouthed gasp as he trailed his own path down her body.

He had his own dreams for the night. Dreams that he had every intention of making come true.

And once more, as he tasted her, all of her, he could only think, amidst the euphoric joy of having her, that reality was far better than anything that his own mind's imaginings could bring forward. His mind was utterly mundane when compared to her touch. His thoughts nothing when compared to the thoughts she inspired with a smile.

His reality held Tonks.

And now, he did too.