"Don't give me that look," Tonks said tersely, upon finding her mother next to the Floo, with her arms crossed over her chest, bright grey eyes glittering, and nostrils flaring wildly. "I heard enough from you last night to last a lifetime."

"I'm very disappointed in you, Nymphadora," Andromeda scolded. "After all you've—"

"Mum, I reallyappreciate everything you've done to help me and the kids, but that's enough. This is mylife, not yours."

"It certainly concerns me when I'm unsure if I'll be living alone or with my daughter and grandchildren."

"You're the one who asked me to move in!"

Andromeda clicked her tongue disapprovingly and blocked the fireplace. "It was for your own good."

"I have to run my own life at one point or another," Tonks muttered angrily. "I'm not a child."

"You may not be a child anymore, but you'll always be my child and I want what's best for you."

Tonks wrung her hands at her sides, trying to calm down before she went back to see Remus. She was determined to go through with her plan, even if her mother was wholly against it.

"Mum," Tonks said forcefully, "that's enough. You're not married to Remus. I am." She grabbed the pot of Floo powder and took a messy fistful of it. "I'm going home now. My home. I'll bring the kids tomorrow morning and let you know how it goes, but I don't want to hear any more about it, okay?"

Andromeda shook her head and backed away from the fireplace. "This is madness, Nymphadora."

"It's my madness." Tonks tossed the Floo powder into the fireplace, called out her home in Northumberland, and spun around in place.

No sooner than Tonks stepped out of the Floo, and dusted the soot off of her robes, she heard her son's excited greeting.

"Mummy, mummy, you're home! Look what I can do!" he shouted, scrunching his eyes and nose together tightly, as a bulbous green pig snout emerged from the middle of his face. It wasn't perfect, but it was round and his nostrils were only a little lopsided.

"Brilliant, Teddy," Tonks praised, crouching down and opening her arms to him for a hug.

She grinned, morphed her nose to match his, and oinked proudly at him. He giggled against the nape of her neck, his laughter coming out as half-oinks and half-squeals, and she held her son tighter in gratitude.

"He's been practicing all morning." Remus emerged from the kitchen with Hope. Tonks felt the grin fading from her face, but she forced herself to keep smiling for her children. Remus adjusted Hope on his hip and added, "He's been waiting in front of the Floo since sunrise for you to come home."

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, sweetheart. Mummy spent the night with Gran. She misses you," Tonks said, putting her hands on Teddy's cheeks. She kissed him all over his face, eliciting more giggles.

"How is she?" Remus asked, once Teddy's laughter had subsided.

"Mum's exactly how you think she is," Tonks replied evenly. Remus winced slightly and shifted Hope to his other hip.

"Right…well…I made cinnamon rolls, if you'd like one."

Tonks's midsection spasmed angrily in reply.

"I want to do it!" Teddy announced. "I'll get mummy a sin-sin roll!" He took off toward the kitchen and Remus followed, leaving Tonks to take her cloak and boots off so she could settle into the living room. She overheard the clamor in the kitchen of Teddy insisting on icing the rolls himself and Remus negotiating with him to avoid a mess.

She sat back in one of the tufted armchairs and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. It had been a long night with her mother, most of which was spent screaming at each other over Tonks's decision to give Remus another chance. When there were no more tears left to cry and her voice had grown hoarse, Tonks collapsed on her bed there, tossing and turning fitfully until the sun came up.

She had been so sure of her decision to finally separate from Remus and split the custody of their children. She had been convinced that there was no other option to salvage their relationship, or even a friendship, after everything they'd endured.

But seeing him take his wedding ring off – the gold, glittery band that she knew he cherished – made her stomach churn. His trembling, unsteady hand, offering her the last token that remained of their marriage, and the shattered expression in his eyes, had softened something in her heart.

Her mother had called her a romantic fool, willing to throw away her happiness and self-respect for a man who was simply too broken to maintain a mature relationship.

Tonks knew she was a fool. She knew she had severely underestimated Remus's many neuroses. She was ready to tie off the ends of the most intense, dysfunctional relationship of her life, until Remus ran after her and barreled down the barriers she'd erected in her mind.

"Sin-sin roll!" Teddy marched proudly with a plate over his head, disturbing Tonks's rumination. He held out the plate and added, "I frosted for you."

"You did so wonderfully well, Teddy," Tonks said, mustering a smile for him. "Thank you."

Teddy puffed out his chest and watched as she took a bite and made exaggerated mmms to show her delight. Teddy, so easy to please, morphed his hair to a golden yellow, lighting up the room with his mere presence.

"Would you like tea?" Remus poked his head out from the kitchen. "I've got the kettle on."

Tonks nodded at him and she settled back in her place, sharing bites of her roll with Teddy, who kept eyeing her plate enviously.

"You know you can ask your father for your own," Tonks said, amused at seeing Teddy take a fingerful of icing and pop it into his mouth. "You don't have to take mine."

Teddy looked over his shoulder and whispered loudly, "But this one has the most frosting, Mummy."

Tonks eyed him curiously and asked, "Did your dad tell you to give this to me?"

Teddy nodded rapidly. "It's a secret."

"I don't mind sharing with you, since you shared your little secret with me." Tonks scraped a forkful of the frosting off the roll and let Teddy scoop it up with his finger.

Remus returned from the kitchen with two cups of tea levitating before him. One was placed in front of the armchair opposite Tonks, while the other was placed on her right.

"Is it all right if I join you?" he asked, and Tonks gestured for him to sit. He brought Hope to the floor, murmuring a charm to create a boundary for her, as she was now crawling enthusiastically, and she set off in search of one of her favorite toys, a bright, stuffed unicorn. Teddy joined her on the floor, moving his favorite wooden trains away from her, frustrated that the magical boundary wouldn't let him hide the trains from her altogether.

"How were they last night?" Tonks asked, after spending several moments watching Hope chew on the horn of her stuffed unicorn.

"Teddy was ready to party until the sun came up," Remus replied, eyeing Teddy smash two trains together. "Weren't you, Teddy?"

"Uh huh," Teddy agreed. "Me and Uncle Harry."

"You'll get to see him again tonight," Remus added lightly. "Won't that be nice?"

"Okay." Teddy shrugged and returned to knocking his trains together on the tracks.

"Are they coming here or going there?" Tonks asked, as she picked up her tea, thankful that Remus had already put much-needed honey in it.

"I'm taking them there at six. I'll come back for you when I'm ready."

"You could just tell me where we're going and I can meet you there."

Remus stilled and said, quietly, "I was hoping to make it more of a surprise, if you don't mind."

Tonks lifted a brow at him. "Does that mean we're staying in and you're cooking?"

"No. I told you…I'm taking you out to dinner. Unless you prefer staying in?"

"It's been ages since I went anywhere but that dodgy-looking coffee shop outside the Ministry. It'll be nice to go somewhere else for a change."

Remus brightened and took a sip of his tea. "It's a Muggle place…I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I?" Tonks asked, confused. Hope had crawled toward her legs and was now slapping her small, chubby hands on Tonks's knees. Tonks lifted her up and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Just thought you might want to know…no need to wear robes, I suppose."

"Oh. Okay."

Hope slapped her hands together excitedly. At least one of us is excited, Tonks thought humorlessly. The entire exchange so far with Remus had felt awkward and choppy, and she began dreading agreeing to dinner with him.

"Do you mind terribly if go upstairs for a kip? Hope is due for one soon, I think."

"Not at all," Remus replied. "Do you need me to get you up for anything?" Tonks shook her head in response. She stood with Hope and lifted the boundary charm holding their children in place.

"I'll be ready around six," Tonks murmured, holding Hope close. "Will you need any help with the kids?" Remus hesitated. She added, "I'll take that as a no. If you do, I'll be up in my room." She kissed Teddy's golden yellow head and went upstairs with her daughter to anxiously await dinner alone with Remus.

They arrived on the edge of a seaside town. The salty air whipped Tonks's dull pink waves across her face. Not finding any street signs, she asked, "Where are we?"

"Just outside Margate," Remus replied promptly. "We lived here for a little while when I was a boy." He gazed at her for a moment, letting his eyes drift down toward her hands, which were quickly stuffed into her pockets.

"Shall we?" Remus nodded toward a busy street and Tonks walked in silence next to him, wondering how they'd manage to make it through an entire dinner together.

Her body moved mechanically, taking one step after the other alongside him. The sandy beach to their right was nearly empty. Muggles were milling about, however, enjoying the unusual, late April sunshine. They walked past colorful buildings, many of which contained seafood restaurants. The scent of fresh fish made her stomach growl; it had been years since she'd had decent seafood. They finally stopped in front of a nondescript, black door. If it hadn't been for Remus, she would've missed it altogether.

They were given a table next to a window, allowing them to look out at the many passers-by on the sidewalk. It was idyllic, thought Tonks, and felt like the perfect place for a date, if only her date wasn't her husband, or her marriage wasn't in shambles.

"Err," Remus began awkwardly once they'd ordered their food. "Can I tell you about how I know this place?"

"Okay."

"We lived around here when I was nine or ten. Some fishmongers were having trouble with their nets and Muggles were being attacked when they went swimming. Dad saw an article about it in the local newspaper – we didn't live far from here – and he recognized that it was a grindylow infestation."

"How did he get rid of them without the Muggles noticing?"

"Got himself hired on a fishing boat," Remus replied. "He wasn't the best fisherman, but he spotted the grindylows and got rid of them one by one. It took a while to do it. We got to spend almost a year here and Dad got to know the owners of the better restaurants. This was one of them."

A basket of warm, crusty bread arrived at their table. Tonks broke apart one of the loaves and handed half to him.

"We ate a lot of fish that year. I haven't eaten much seafood since."

Tonks tilted her head at him. "Why now?"

A strange look crossed over his features. He took a slow bite of his buttered bread and replied, "It seemed like the right time to give it a new try."

And there it was. The reason for their dinner, the setting, and the cuisine – it was all to give their marriage another chance.

"Maybe some things aren't worth a second chance," Tonks said bitterly, thinking of all the failures they'd endured together. "Or even a third or fourth chance."

"Or maybe," Remus interjected, "it's not about chances at all. It's about trying something else."

"You know what seafood is like though," Tonks challenged him. "You know what to expect. The taste, the texture, the different kinds of fish—"

"—yes, but maybe it's better now than it used to be, because I'm not a child anymore. I'm not the same person I used to be."

Tonks dropped the remainder of her bread onto her plate. "Are you sure that you're not?"

"I'd like to show you I'm not, if you'll let me." Remus had his hands in his lap but his eyes were steady on hers. "I don't want—"

The waiter appeared with their plates. Tonks had ordered the Dover sole, while Remus had ordered the halibut. She stared down at her dish, plated beautifully with wedges of lemon and chopped parsley, finding her appetite had vanished.

"Tonks," Remus said, addressing her as if he were praying. "I don't want to fight or argue with you…not tonight. We can row any other night or day, but I want this to be a date, a real date. I was never able to give you that before."

Every argument, failure, and tear that she'd shed over the man in front of her flashed through her mind. Other images came up, too – the first time he'd been at her tiny flat, his eyes wide with wonder and trepidation…the boyish, carefree grin he wore whenever she stepped on her tiptoes to kiss the tip of his nose…the warm, gentle hands that held her close and promised never to let go…

She wasn't ready to let him go yet, but she wasn't ready to go back to the way things were. Something did feel different about Remus now; she'd never imagined the two of them out to dinner like this, as if they were any other couple.

"Tonks?"

"I heard you," she mumbled. "Got lost in my thoughts. I reckon I haven't been on a real date in a long time."

Remus's shoulders relaxed. He dug into his fish and Tonks watched his eyes widen a little before closing slowly.

"How is it?" asked Tonks. "Better than you remember?"

"Much. Would you like to try some?" Remus took a forkful of his halibut and offered it to her, but she shook her head.

"You enjoy it. Maybe we'll come back here and I can try it another time."

Remus gaped at her. His hand retracted slowly and shakily. The bit of fish he had on his fork dropped to his plate and Tonks, wanting to avoid dwelling on the matter, ploughed on.

"How is work?" she asked, trying her hardest to sound nonchalant. She busied herself with squeezing a wedge of lemon onto her fish, feeling the lemon juice dribble down her fingers and palm.

"It's good," Remus replied, after a moment's pause. "Last week I went with Pomona to see a family whose werewolf son turned eleven last October, but hadn't replied to his Hogwarts acceptance letter yet."

"You didn't know them before?"

Remus tilted his head back and forth, as his mouth was full. He swallowed slowly and replied, "Their family was a lot like mine. Wizard father, Muggle mother. Their son was in the wrong place at the wrong time – they didn't live far from where Fenrir's encampment was and the boy, Ciaran, was bitten. He was six at the time."

Tonks tried not to betray any reaction, unsure if Remus was open to discussing anything related to lycanthropy, a traditionally sore subject. Instead, she asked, "Did his parents not want him to go to Hogwarts?"

"They were worried about him and Pomona asked if I'd come with her to see them, to convince them it was safe for their son to go to school."

"And?"

"I suggested we take Lottie Wakefield and her sons with us," Remus replied. "Wally's starting at Hogwarts this year. He turned eleven last September, if you remember?"

"I didn't, no," Tonks said, feeling a new wave of guilt washing over her. She'd been so wrapped up in her own troubles she'd forgotten about Remus's godsons, Denys and Wally.

"The Mowrys – that's the family name," Remus explained, "they'd had no idea there were already werewolf children at Hogwarts. Wally and Ciaran hit it off nicely so I'm hoping they'll be sorted together."

"They said yes?" Tonks said, feeling a smile creeping up on her face. "Their son's going to Hogwarts?"

Remus smiled and nodded. "We'll have four werewolf students next term."

Tonks felt a surge of joy at the thought of four little lycanthropes receiving the education they deserved. She promised herself she'd write to the Wakefields sometime and check in with them, too.

"How have things been for you at the DMLE?" Remus ventured.

"Busy. We're almost fully staffed, but most of the Aurors are still in training," Tonks answered. "Flan and Cai have been godsends." Seeing Remus's confused expression, Tonks reminded him that Cai referred to Berrycloth. She continued, "Flan and Bellamy will be fully qualified in July. I'm actually going to miss training Flan. She's a brat sometimes, but she's my brat. You know what I'm saying?"

"Do you think that's how Alastor thought of you?"

Tonks closed her eyes and hummed, thinking of her late mentor, Mad-Eye, one of the greatest Aurors to have ever worked in the DMLE.

"I'd say I was less his brat and more his favorite nuisance." She smiled to herself, remembering the banter they shared, grateful that she'd been the last Auror personally trained by him. "I miss him. The department's not the same without him – or hell, Scrimgeour. He had a stick up his arse most of the time but there's not much I wouldn't give to have them back."

The waiter came back around and cleared their plates. Tonks, surprised by her reluctance to let the date end, shyly asked if they could stay for dessert. Remus nodded enthusiastically and ordered them a slice of cake to share.

"Maybe it's because I'm turning 30 this year," Tonks said pensively, "but I feel too young and too old sometimes. I don't feel old enough to be running this department, but when I look at the trainees, who are only ten to twelve years younger…I feel old compared to them. I've seen a lot more, you know?"

A curious gleam shone in Remus's eyes but he said nothing, only nodding at her. She continued, adding, "They were at Hogwarts during the war and many of them witnessed awful, terrible, horrible things. They're angry and hurting and want to make the world a better place. But maybe this is what growing up is – it's being the one in charge of making things different and better, and knowing what fights are worth fighting for and when rules have to be followed. It was easier to see the world in black and white when I was younger, but now, after everything we went through in the war, it's so much messier…I s'pose what I'm trying to say is that I miss those days, of having someone wiser than me to rely on and help me muddle through."

Their chocolate cake had arrived. It was a four-layer, towering thing with fresh berries and drizzled chocolate all over. She and Remus began on opposite ends, each relishing in the rich, velvety cocoa within.

"Do you ever feel that way?" asked Tonks, in between bites.

"I did, when Albus and Alastor died," Remus replied, picking off a strawberry from the cake and swirling it in chocolate sauce. "Especially Albus. He was my lifeline for so long."

"I miss my dad, too," Tonks said, more to herself than to Remus. "I miss him so much. He always knew what to say."

"What do you think he'd say now?" Remus asked, pushing the last bit of cake toward her.

Tonks savored one last bite of the bittersweet chocolate cake, drawing her fork into the sauce for a little more sweetness. She closed her eyes, letting the fork's cool tines rest on her tongue and lips.

"He'd have loved the kids...he would've been the best grandad." She brought the fork down to the crumb-filled tablecloth and sighed. "I don't know what else he'd say."

Remus parted his lips, as if to reply, but the waiter brought them the bill. Tonks watched as Remus reached into his pocket, pulled out his billfold, and placed several crisp notes on top of the yellow bill.

"I know it's not as meaningful because our salaries go to the same place," Remus said, noticing her eyes on the banknotes, "but I hope you know this isn't something I'd have done before."

"I know. You want it to be different."

Remus nodded and stood, holding his hand out for her.

"You don't have to take it, but I'd like to think this is what a gentleman does for his date."

Tonks allowed herself a moment to see Remus as he was, a man still in love with her, who continued making mistake after mistake in their marriage. She wanted to take his hand, his heart, and fix everything, but she hesitated, knowing it wasn't right yet.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Remus's face and his hand dropped to his side. He cleared his throat lightly and said, "It's quite all right. We might never be there again."

"I want to be, Remus," Tonks said heavily, pushing her chair behind her. "But I'm just not ready. I don't know if I'll ever be, and I don't want to get your hopes up."

Remus exhaled softly and moved aside, allowing her to reach the door, which he opened for her. They walked in silence again on their way back to the Apparition point, with the sea air back in Tonks's face, whipping dull strands of hair out of her eyes.

They stopped where they began. Remus blinked at her, his golden brown eyes looking more tired than usual.

"You said you don't want to get my hopes up…does this mean we won't be having dinner again?"

Tonks stared at him, unsure of how to reply. She had enjoyed herself, despite it all; it was almost like everything was back to normal, and she'd enjoyed his company. It had been a pleasant, if slightly awkward date.

Not unlike many first dates, she thought, almost amused.

"I'm afraid that my heart's going to get broken again," Tonks admitted. "I know it's worse not to try, but it hurts. I don't want to hurt anymore."

Remus's hands twitched at his sides. He stuffed them in his pockets and looked off at the horizon, where the sun was setting over the restless sea.

"I can't promise you won't hurt again…but I don't want to think about the what-ifs anymore. I've been doing that for over 42 years. If you enjoyed yourself tonight, would you let me take you to dinner again next week? We'll go one date at a time, until you don't want to anymore."

Tonks took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, salty air. She was terrified, wondering if or how it would end in flames. But something felt new about this; there were no hurried, desperate propositions, no wars or battles to attend to, or even the looming fear of death in the backs of their minds. It was merely Remus, asking for another chance to spend time with her.

"Okay," Tonks agreed, seeing him shudder with relief. "One at a time."

Remus held out his arm for her, and with a turn of his heel, they vanished with a resounding crack.