"No, you're mistaken. Please leave."
The witch who had answered the door was tight lipped and wan. Unsurprising, given the circumstances. Tonks tried to look reassuring.
"No, it's ok, we're here to help, we-"
"My son is dead," She said crisply, "Please leave."
"Dead? No, he can't be, they said-"
"Our condolences," said Remus smoothly interrupting her, "Please forgive us for intruding at such a difficult time; we were misinformed. We won't trouble you any further."
Tonks was about to protest, but, most unusually, Remus had seized her elbow and was firmly guiding her away from the doorstep and back down the little garden path in the fading evening light. He let go the second they were out the gate and began striding off down the road. He looked odd, in disguise, and the Gilderoy Lockhart-esque blonde hair suddenly didn't seem as funny as it had when she'd first proposed it…
She'd given herself hair like Molly Weasley for this job. She'd wanted to seem approachable and maternal.
Tobias Smith had been six years old.
He'd had his arm ripped off by a werewolf four days ago. He'd snuck outside to look at the moon…
Dumbledore had asked them to stop by. How he knew about the attack was anyone's guess, but he had asked them to go, and he had told them that the healers had been able to regrow the arm, and he wanted them to reassure the family that there would be a place for Tobias at Hogwarts when the time came.
She'd wanted to get this right. Somehow. Wanted to say or do or be the right thing for Tobias, a cheerful stranger wedging the door open at a time when most of the wizarding world would try to slam it shut in his face. That would be a goodly deed. Something she could point to and say, well, life is cruel and unfair but at least that kid knows somebody is fighting his corner. It's not much, but it's something.
How could he possibly be dead?
"Not like Dumbledore to get it wrong," she said, ducking down the little overgrown laneway towards the apparition point, "Are you sure you want to leave it there? If you create a diversion, I could nip round the back of the house, have a squizzy, see if he's home?"
Remus stared off into the middle distance and carried on walking. Despite the hair and the eyebrows and the nose, there was something in the absolute stillness of his expression that was unquestionably him.
"No."
"But-"
"If his mother says her son is dead, I believe her."
"I'll just go-"
"No."
His expression sent a shiver through her. Grey eyes, full of… full of no.
She hesitated.
"Do you think… something went wrong with the healing?"
He said nothing.
"Or… ? You think they killed him?"
His steps started to slow.
"It's more common than you'd think,"
"Really? I thought the survival rates were pretty high if you got to a healer fast enough. Is it something to do with the lycanthropic curse, or is it like, the trauma of it all or something? Or, do you mean, he was killed outright, and we've been fed bad intel?"
He faltered. Stopped. Looked around at the overgrown hedges on either side of them.
"We've gone too far," he said lightly, detached, far away.
"Sorry?"
"It doesn't matter, we can apparate from here just as well I suppose,"
His face had settled into a distant, vacant neutral. Not the dark intensity of only moments ago, or the light twinkle from earlier in the afternoon.
"Uh, wanna fill me in here?"
She could see he was struggling to make himself look at her. His gaze kept slipping past her shoulder.
"I don't think Tobias Smith was killed by a werewolf."
He waited.
Tonks blinked at him.
He turned and looked back down the lane for a moment.
"If his parents say he's dead, I believe them." He glanced back to her and away, "As I said… it's more common than you'd think."
It hit her all at once. Like sinking, and also like being burnt. It was as though the realisation had scorched her mind or her heart or some quintessential part of her that didn't want to know. But knowing couldn't be undone.
"We should go," he said gently.
~O~O~O~
It took them three hops to get back to London, and Remus suggested she go and visit her parents or spend the night with friends.
"It's probably best not to be alone tonight," He'd said.
She'd nodded and said goodnight, in a vague, hollow sort of way. He'd offered to escort her, but she'd refused, flashing him a quick smile to reassure him that she'd be fine, she'd be fine, of course she would, and then she'd disapparated, not far, just a few streets over, to give herself a moment to think about it.
She sat on the bench at a muggle bus stop and looked down at her clothes. Somehow, the cardigan and floral print top with the lace collar seemed stupid now. Not a delightful disguise, just childish.
Tonks closed her eyes and swallowed against the shame. It washed through her in a gentle wave.
Her heart had leapt at the chance to do another job with him.
They'd had great fun with Sirius, coming up with the disguises, trying on assorted clothes from the abandoned Black family wardrobes, charming them into more modern styles, and generally over-reacting to any garment containing an infestation. They'd done spontaneous quaffle drills with a waistcoat full of spiders.
It was so lovely to be doing an easy job for once; nothing too dangerous, nothing too boring, just a little conversation and reassurance, just… be hope in darkness for someone.
And the evening had been so full of promise, the country lane so green, the little houses so quaint with their gardens full of flowers…
She had wanted…
She choked on the thought and forced herself to think it.
You wanted to impress him.
You need to admit that, kiddo.
You wanted to impress him, and you wanted to use Tobias Smith to show him how ok you are with his condition.
You SHOULD feel ashamed.
Her eyes prickled and she closed them, refusing to cry, refusing to feel anything other than shame.
If she let go of the shame she'd have to feel all the injustice and tragedy of everything that had happened to Tobias Smith. She wasn't sure she could do that at a bus stop in muggle London, by herself.
It's probably best not to be alone tonight.
Would he tell Sirius?
She pressed her fingers against her eyes. It would not do to turn up looking teary. She sniffed resolutely.
She wanted to go and crawl into bed with him and curl up in his arms and cry.
Which was self-indulgent, unprecedented, and a thing she would not, could not do.
But she would check on him. Because the chances of him taking his own advice were slim, and he was right.
It's probably best not to be alone tonight.
~O~O~O~
"Hullo, Tonks, how was it? Moony came in looking vaguer than usual,"
"Where is he?"
"Head in the grate, talking to Dumbledore. Fancy a cuppa?"
"Yeah, cheers," She trailed after Sirius down towards the kitchen and chastised herself as a damn fool. "Sorry, no. I shouldn't… Look. He might've… Remus seems to think his parents… Tobias Smith's parents that is… I mean… He's dead. They… anyway, I don't think he should be alone tonight, can you… can you keep him company?"
Sirius froze and turned to peer at her through the gloom.
"Bastards," It was said quietly but with bitter emphasis. "Tonks, I'm so sorry."
"Yes. I- that's… that's all, really, I just… he shouldn't be alone…" she trailed off.
Sirius narrowed his eyes at her.
"You aren't staying?"
"No- I- that is… I want to, so, so I shouldn't. Just- look after him, please, Siri, just… please?"
Sirius pulled her into a tight, wiry hug and growled in her ear. It was a compressed sort of rage sound, and it made her feel slightly better.
"He's got so shut down while I've been gone. Needs more people in his life, Tonks. You should stay."
Tears welled up properly now, and she wiped them away impatiently.
"I can't," she said miserably, "I like him far too much."
"Eh? Oh. Huh. Well. Hmmm." He considered her. "All the more reason to stay?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"He's got enough to deal with," she choked out, "I don't want to burden him with all my feelings. A little boy was murdered and-" she cut herself off. "He doesn't need me on top of whatever he's feeling about it. I get the impression this isn't the first time he's been Dumbledore's messenger,"
Sirius' eyes were dark and grim.
"No, it's not." He said bluntly.
Tears surged back up.
"Right. Well. That's just… devastating. I'll just… you look after him, Siri, he… he trusts you and I don't think he really trusts anyone else…"
For a moment, Sirius looked almost… surprised? Then he gave a little huffing chuckle in the dim light.
"You know, I'd been wondering…" he trailed off, "Well, if you change your mind, you know where we are,"
She nodded.
He gave her one last bone-crushing hug, and then she went home to sob hysterically in the shower.
~O~O~O~
Sirius answered the door.
Tonks just stood there, because all the things she had been going to say to justify her presence had vanished. She wasn't entirely sure why she was there at all.
"Glad you've come to your senses," he said, with a half grin, closing the door behind her and giving her a slightly too hearty pat on the back, "He just got in."
Tonks blinked.
"Got in?"
Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, a little guiltily.
"Uh… well. He had to go back to uh… confirm his hypothesis…"
Hope and horror leapt in her chest.
"And?"
He grimaced.
"Confirmed."
She blinked and refused to think about it.
"Yeah. Firewhisky?"
She nodded and followed him down to the kitchen.
The fire blazed and the light glinted off the tumblers on the table, but there was no sign of Remus.
"Urgh. Moony and his bloody disappearing trick. Come on,"
He tucked the bottle of firewhisky under his arm, and she trailed after him up the stairs.
"Oi, Moony!" Sirius rapped on the bedroom door.
"Pads, I said, I don't want to talk… oh."
The mild annoyance drained from his face, leaving it the usual blank mask.
Tonks lost her composure completely and threw her arms around Remus with a lot more impact than she'd intended. He caught her, an automatic reflex, and then let her go. She squeezed him tighter. Felt him place a cautious hand on her back and sensed him mouthing something at Sirius over her shoulder.
"No use appealing to him," she said loudly, "He thinks you need to stop shutting everyone out."
Sirius chuckled.
Remus stayed very still, not unwilling, but clearly uneasy about being hugged.
"I'm sorry, Tonks, I'm afraid I really do need some sleep-"
"So do I," she said crossly, letting go of him enough glare up at him, "And you don't ever get to make me feel selfish about loving you ever again. And don't call me that!"
"I'm sorry?"
"Sirius, forget the firewhisky, we need hot chocolate and marshmallows. And more pillows, look at this, pathetic- accio cushions! It's like an institution in here! You, get into bed- you, where's that hot chocolate?!-"
Sirius gave a bark of laughter and clapped Remus on the shoulder, as a flurry of cushions dashed into the room and flumped to the floor.
"Think you've been caught out, Moony! Serves you right for trying to fob off a Hufflepuff!"
"What?"
"Now, have you had dinner?"
"I'm fine-"
"I'll take that as a 'no, because I'm a self-flagellating idiot'," she said brutally, "Sirius, I've changed my mind, I'll do the hot chocolate, and I'll nip out for pizza as well on the condition that you don't let him out of your sight this time!"
Sirius pulled a comical face of terrified obedience at her and saluted.
"Do not let him blank you out of it," she said, "Sit on him if you have to!"
"Sorry?" Remus looked startled by this suggestion.
Sirius grinned.
"Oooh, you've made her mad, Moony. I think we'll call this 'Hufflepuff's Revenge'! Do you think she'll force us to sing songs about friendship and write down five things we like about each other on bits of parchment?"
"I think we've had enough emotional torture for one night," she said, still cross. She went to leave and turned back, secretly pleased to see Remus still looked a bit bamboozled. "And I mean it. Never ever shame me like that again!"
She stumped out to get pizza, leaving Sirius chuckling, and Remus with faint lines of confusion between his eyebrows.
~O~O~O~
Tonks dumped the pizza on the kitchen table and muttered to herself as she crashed about the kitchen making hot chocolate. She had managed to work herself up into a kind of confident crossness that she knew full well she needed to maintain in order not to revert to feeling vulnerable and sad and anxious and hurt.
He'd thrown her today.
Pulling away like that. Going aloof, and serious. Making her feel foolish. Making her feel… like a silly young girl with a crush on the teacher.
As though his face didn't light up when she came to visit. As though he'd never caught her eye in an Order meeting and twinkled at her. As though he'd never called her Nymphadora to get a rise out of her, and never cheated at scrabble, and never snapped back something erudite and damning when someone questioned her ability…
As though she'd imagined it.
He was fond of her. And that was why she'd been so excited to be on another job with him. He held her at a distance, yes, but gradually, he'd been letting her in, just a little bit, inch by inch, so of course she wanted to impress him, make sure he knew the werewolf thing wasn't an issue…
Unless she was very much mistaken, the discovery that Tobias Smith had been murdered by his parents had reminded him forcibly that the werewolf thing was absolutely an issue, and he had no business tentatively flirting with anyone at all.
He had stepped neatly into vague and distant. Just distracted and troubled enough that she would feel insensitive for asking questions. Controlled enough that she would feel childish for being emotional. Kind enough that she would feel guilty for even thinking he might be doing it deliberately.
She clattered and stomped up the stairs, with the food trailing after her, and threw open the door to the bedroom.
Remus was looking pale and wan. He was sitting in the chair beside the bed, and she was quite convinced he was hamming up his exhaustion ever so slightly. Sirius was sat on the end of the bed looking mulish.
"Hmph!" It seemed more productive than saying anything. She waved the pizza and drinks over to the little desk and tried not to spill anything. Another wave of her wand and the cushions and pillows piled themselves up on the bed. "You, in bed. In the middle of the bed, and don't give me any of that oh-so-feeble-and-tired it's-been-a-long-day-and-I-just-want-to-be-left-alone bullshit."
"Nymphadora, I really-"
"Absolutely not! You're going to eat some pizza, and drink some hot chocolate, and generally be fussed over. Sirius, choose a side, you're staying too, you've spent far too much time feeling sorry for yourself for being locked up here, when you're here because people love you, in-cluding, but not limited to, this idiot, who still seems to be labouring under the misapprehension that pretending that all he needs is a good night's sleep is in any way convincing. I said the middle, Remus, budge up." She gave him a shove and clambered into the bed next to him. "Pizza, eat."
She dumped the boxes on his lap, wedged as he now was between her and Sirius and supported by the pile of pillows. He'd gone blank about the eyes again, which she took to be a good sign; he was probably having an emotion of some sort.
Fear of rejection kept her clinging to the protective shell of crankiness all the way through two and a half slices, which were hot and cheesy, and burnt her tongue a little, and felt good, and also bad, and also like nothing at all.
Sirius (bless him!) had insisted on shuffling himself about beside Remus, wriggling and budging and basically taking up more space that was strictly necessary, ensuring that Remus couldn't preserve his little bubble of isolation. Remus managed to look patient, and even mildly amused as Sirius got stuck into the pizza taking large greedy bites, balanced by a slightly drugged look of enjoyment.
Probably no pizza in Azkaban. At a wild guess.
Remus ate carefully. It didn't seem to matter what you put in front of him, he always approached it as though famine was just around the corner, and perhaps it would be wise to establish a rationing system immediately.
Probably not too far from his truth.
This thought gave her a little spike of anger, a little emotional top up, but the day's tumult was gaining on her, and miserable tiredness was starting to seep in.
The hot chocolate was sweet and hot and awkward. She had to float the mug or send it back to the desk.
They were sitting on top of the covers. She'd kicked her shoes off earlier, and now her feet were cold.
But the room was quite warm. Hot, even.
Sort of stuffy, and silent.
And the pizza was greasy and disappointing, and her drink was too sweet, and poor Remus seemed to be having a hell of a time keeping his elbows neatly tucked in and generally being jostled by her and Sirius, and Sirius looked cramped and restless- perhaps he did really need more space?- and the thought of that and she suddenly felt the room was airless and-
Remus cleared his throat.
"Tonks," he said, in that light melodic way of his, gentle, polite, "This is a lovely idea, however-"
"Oh don't!" she said despairingly, dropping the rest of a slice back into the box. It was inexplicably too cold and too hot at the same time. "It's awful, I know, I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this, but you just can't be alone after that, it's horrible!"
He smiled.
"Do you mind if I…?" He had his wand out, presumably offering to fix her failed attempt at a cosy evening.
To her surprise, she burst into tears.
She stifled them abruptly, but it was enough that he looked quite startled for a moment, and Sirius, who was still wolfing down pizza, paused mid-inhalation.
"Sorry, yes, go ahead, I'm a bit tired, I think,"
"It's been a long day," Remus said, and it was such a generic thing to say. Almost like he was pulling them away from the precipice with platitudes.
She let him. Watched him sideways as he fixed the temperature in the room, redistributed the heat in the pizza, summoned her a pair of thick socks…
He was so unutterably kind.
Heartbreaking.
Urgh.
"Well, I'm enjoying this," said Sirius suddenly, "It's occurring to me that I haven't had the pleasure of torturing Moony like this for ages. We used to force him to play exploding snap. Tonks, oh cousin mine, how do you feel about exploding snap?"
Thank you.
Tonks stretched her fingers out and cracked her knuckles with a flourish.
"I feel the time has come for me to beat you both to smithereens at exploding snap,"
She was rewarded with the faintest hint of a smile, and the instant knowledge that Remus would be nigh on impossible to beat.
The evening dissolved into twisted bedding and singe marks on the covers and ever more dramatic claims of card-playing prowess. They started with snap, which had to be abandoned due to Remus' alarmingly quick reflexes, and moved on to Goblin Rummy, in which both Sirius and Remus cheated shamelessly until Tonks caught on and cheated shamelessly back, and Sirius declared her a scoundrel and insisted they all do a shot of vodka and eat a pickle. This led to a brief interlude of arguing about whether or not the jar of pickles summoned from the pantry was a health hazard or not, many accusations of cowardice, one graphic description of potential food poisoning, and a collective decision to stick with a single ceremonial shot of vodka and avoid any pickle related problems.
After all, you can't fight the forces of darkness while puking your guts out.
But the general tomfoolery seemed to have shifted them, all three, into acceptance. No-one suggested that any of them sleep elsewhere- in fact, no-one suggested any of them sleep. There was some tooth brushing and pyjama donning, and Sirius nipped upstairs briefly to check on Buckbeak, but somewhere between the pizza and the pickle debate, an unspoken agreement had been reached.
Tonks rather thought it had been the exploding snap. In any case, she found she didn't mind when Remus slipped out to fetch a glass of water, because she knew he'd be coming back. She talked records and quidditch and family gossip with Sirius, and when Remus returned he refused to be drawn into speculation about her mother's insane sisters.
Remus went a little sombre, and Tonks thought perhaps referring to murderous relatives had maybe been a misstep. But he tossed some of the cushions on the floor and climbed into bed comfortably enough, and they played a sort of twenty-questions game while the magelight guttered, until Sirius was yawning enormously and shifting about like he couldn't get comfortable.
"You ok?"
Sirius made a slight grumbling noise and dove for the foot of the bed, shifting form mid-movement. He turned and gave them both a look that said he didn't want to discuss it, a 'this is me in the night time, deal with it' sort of look, turned around three times and settled on top of the covers in a large coil of shaggy black dog. The way he curled his tail around half-concealing his snout had an air of finality to it.
It was also grumpy-cute.
Tonks turned to Remus.
"He hasn't slept in human form for over a decade,"
"Oh,"
At some point they turned out the lights completely, letting the conversation drift about aimlessly, and exhaustion pull them down into the uneven weight of the mattress. Tonks found her eyelids kept closing of their own accord, but some unsettled part of her kept forcing them open again.
"This is like Hogwarts," she mumbled.
He was lying on his side facing her, a boringly respectable gap between them, and Sirius still curled at their feet. She could make out the gentle features of his tired face in the dark. If only she had permission to just… wrap him up and keep him safe.
"How so?"
Tonks yawned and reminded herself that midnight confessions were best delivered in the slow naïvety of over-tiredness.
"You know… like one of those tragic teenage parties, that you just have so much anxiety about- what are you going to wear, what's going to happen… and then it's a blur of colour… and eventually everyone's fading with exhaustion but you can't sleep because the person you fancy is right there… and you have this heightened sense that something could happen, and that's kind of scary, but also you're surrounded by people so it's also not scary, because there's like an inbuilt safety net and you know it's not going to get out of control… and that's maybe why there's this sense that you can't sleep, because actually this is-" She yawned again, "-maybe the one time where there's a stable bridge from being friends to something else…"
This was risky. She knew it was risky. Some dimly lit, sensible part of her knew she had probably just blown her chances of anything happening ever… but the whole situation, lying next to him in the darkness… it was as though it had reignited a youthful optimism.
He was quiet beside her.
She had a sense of something though. Thinking, perhaps. Could she sense him thinking? Was that insane, to think that?
But he was smiling, she had a sense of that now, an almost wistful smile, the smile that came with this particularly Remus-y kindness that seemed to connect to things he couldn't be or have; a benevolent acceptance that some of life's riches were just for other people.
"I had quite a different experience of those parties, I think."
He hadn't turned away.
"Tell me about them," it tumbled out, slow and sleepy, an innocent, accidental demand.
"…I suppose… my anxiety was about choosing the right moment to disappear,"
Tonks stayed floating in the darkness, waiting for more, for whatever he was going to say, because this was as close to openly talking about his experiences as she'd ever heard- the way he said 'my anxiety', like he was owning a feeling- a negative feeling- and not washing over it… like maybe he was about to tell her what it had been like for him, what it had been like to be a teenager with a secret more desperate than anyone else's…
"I had these wonderful friends, you see, and they felt very strongly that I ought to attend parties. Even once they knew what I was... I do know what you mean about a blur of colour... it's the vibrancy isn't it, more than anything… there's something vivid and vital about teenagers… and in a group like that, it whirls around you… people living so intensely for a few hours… it was such a gift to be included, but I dreaded them… more than the moon sometimes… I suppose because at least the moon felt honest…"
He trailed off.
Tonks felt the gap. She did sometimes… though it helped that this time it wasn't partway through a mission. She was getting better at recognising those moments when he forgot the wistful-acceptance and just felt serious and sad. Those times when he doubled down on his commitment to kindness and distance. It was as though the path that ought to have led to self-pity got actively diverted into a sort of monk-like virtuous deprivation that ran on to study, and kindness to creatures in pain.
She realised she wanted him to slip into self-pity. Such a stigmatised emotion, so ugly, such a dreadful thing to wish on someone… but…
Whenever she felt sorry for herself it was because she'd done something she was ashamed of; or had been treated badly; or wanted something she absolutely couldn't have. And wanting seemed to be a big part of that: wanting to be a better person, or to be treated better, or to have a better opportunity or circumstance or something. Part of self-pity was wanting and feeling… deserving. Deserving, but denied.
Remus, you deserve better than this. Or- or different than this. Maybe that's more accurate.
Why aren't you even allowed to feel sorry for yourself?
Oh Merlin. Is that what we did, barging in here with pizza? Were you taking a little moment to indulge in the release of some truly miserable self-pity, and I just charged in here like a nutter, so convinced I was, what, saving you? From what, though? From thinking about how, if your parents had been different people they might have had you murdered as a child instead of loving you enough to want you to live, and as a result, forcing you to live a life of pain and isolation and poverty that you're obliged to feel grateful for?
An involuntary whimper tore through her.
"Dora?" His hand was on her shoulder in an instant.
"I don't want to feel sorry for you, Remus!"
He flinched, and withdrew his hand like she'd burnt him.
"No, that's not- here-" She took his hand and put it back on her shoulder and held it there, "I feel like I'm having to feel sorry for you because you won't feel sorry for yourself, and you should, because- because your life absolutely sucks, and it's horribly unfair, and no-one would blame you if you did sometimes hate your parents a little bit for not killing you, or at least feel radically ungrateful about it, and it's like, it's like you're determined to be life's doormat, and I'm really mad at you!" Tonks paused, surprised at where this had taken her, "I don't want to be forced to see you as an object of pity! If anything, you're an object of desire and affection, and all of this acting like you've taken holy orders is really confusing! Half the time it feels like I'm lusting after a priest! And if you're not interested, that's fine, but please say it, because honestly, it's doing my head in!"
Perhaps unsurprisingly, he said nothing.
She was just so tired. She had no idea what time it was, but it seemed as though the day would just continue forever, and she would be stuck in this nightmare of loving him and curdling with the confusion of it. Because he loved her back. She was almost sure of it.
And maybe he was right. Maybe it was too dangerous. But was it? How could it be, really? He wasn't dangerous. And -no. All of this was the futile idle brain ramblings of the seriously sleep deprived.
Tonks jabbed him in the middle of the chest with her forefinger.
"Speak,"
Why was she so demanding tonight? If only he wouldn't go all 'grown up' on her and suggest that perhaps things would be 'better in the morning'.
"I'm not sure what to say," he said, and his voice sounded strained. "I'm not sure if it's stranger to be lusted after or stranger to be considered priestly. I might be mildly offended by the doormat comment. I lead a restricted life- but so do you – so does everyone; our limitations are different, but we all do the best we can –" He cut himself off suddenly, "I don't understand how you manage to annoy me so successfully!" This came out with unexpected irritation, quite unlike his usual calm tone.
Was it awful to want to provoke him?
I might be a terrible person. I am. I'm a monster. What the hell am I doing to this poor man? I've ruined his evening, destroyed his sleep, insulted him and poked him. I am an actual crazy person.
Why did everything seem fine until a minute ago?
Oh right. I opened my big mouth.
"Sorry,"
Urgh.
Wretched.
"Surely there is an abundance of healthy, attractive young men out there?"
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Well, can't you fall in love with one of them?"
"It doesn't work like that, you idiot. It's you I'm in love with,"
"I – you – we should go to sleep."
"Nonsense. This is just getting interesting."
"Oh really. How does this fit into your romantic teenage schema? Whispered arguments on over-taxed nerves. You realise I'm old, don't you? I'm going to have to spend most of tomorrow in bed because of you."
"Brilliant, I'll be there."
"You don't – why are you – Stop acting like this is possible!"
"It is possible."
"It's not, which you will realise soon enough."
"Seriously, though, who hurt you?"
"A werewolf. Haven't you been paying attention?"
"Ooh! I'm really enjoying this nasty, bitter side of you Remus, it's like coffee and dark chocolate."
He made a small noise of frustration.
"What do you want from me? You want me to kiss you, is that it?"
"I mean, yes, obviously. A declaration of undying love and loyalty would be nice too, but, you know, you do what you feel."
For a moment he seemed wrapped in irritation, rubbing his face with his hand and letting out a frustrated breath.
"Fine. But you will deeply regret it and I'm sorry, but I'm not going to apologise when that happens."
"Fair enough, considering you've apologised in advance,"
He muttered something, and if she didn't know better she might've thought he was swearing. But then his hand was warm and gentle on her cheek, and fire was chasing through her like lightning, and he wasn't a respectable distance away any more, he was right there, his nose nudging hers, lips brushing hers -and finally the hot melting heat of his mouth on hers, acting like a magnet, dragging them together until they were clinging and twisted round each other in hot breathy panic.
It was all heat, and heartbeat, and his hand on her neck, on her shoulder, on her hip, slipping hotly against her waist, his hand up the back of her shirt, splayed between her bare shoulder blades and her leg hooked over his hip, pulling him bodily closer, the burning heat of it all, a driven, thrumming lust she'd never felt before, thundering through her, flooding-
Sirius twitched and gave a doggy whimper in his sleep. The shock of it flickered through them both. Remus stopped, paused, and with what she knew was huge force of will, pulled away.
She let him, because she knew that she was about thirty seconds away from booting Sirius out, stripping, and confiscating Remus's tidy pyjamas.
And the whole point was not to let it get out of hand.
They lay facing each other, trying to breathe quietly and not move.
Sirius twitched again, and whimpered, but then seemed to settle with a sleeping sigh.
The darkness was dazzling. Overtired colours played in her eyes, and she realised she was damp with sweat and burning up.
"Will that suffice?" His voice was more breath than anything, a little sharp, defensive maybe…
She'd found the little bitter streak in him, the tiny, suppressed part of him that wanted.
"For now," she said, still spinning with the strength of her own pulse, "The next thing is to go to sleep and then spend most of tomorrow ridiculously overtired and insane with frustration,"
"Well, that sounds delightful," he shot back at her, "How on earth did you talk me into this?"
Tonks reached for his hand and pressed a kiss against the back of it. She felt some of the tension leave him.
"Go to sleep, Remus,"
"I don't understand," he said despairingly.
"Yes, you do," she mumbled back, curling round their clasped hands, "Or you'd never've kissed me."