A/N: I'm glad this is liked. I've had mentions of Hestia made to me; don't worry, she'll be in the story soon. She provides essentially the main comic relief for the whole tale.

"I'd respect his so-called reasons, if he had the decency to tell me them." she concluded. "It's not fair to hold something against me and expect me to accept that, if he hasn't said so much as a word to me, that doesn't come from a grunt or a sneer." she protested, both hurt and humiliated that Remus had defended her current worst enemy.

She felt him take her hand once more and this time, she paid full attention to it and responded by saying,

"I'm sorry Remus, I talk way too much of myself and him, forgetting you have your own problems to deal with."

"Forget it," he said, wavering a hand, smiling honestly, "We all have our problems, they may not be in equal weight by comparison, but they are equally as hard to deal with internally."

She nodded and chewed on her lip, slightly worried. Why did she have the inexplicable urge to kiss him right now. Realising she were giving off passionate signals, by biting her lip seductively, she ceased her actions and sat back in her chair, becoming once again enthralled in the diagrams of the Welsh Green Dragon.

"You'll be fine." spoke Remus out of the blue and she looked up to see that he had folded his arms, save his hands from wandering to anywhere further than hers. "So long as you stay out of the basement. That's where he wanders to most evenings and it's also where he works. The man likes the dark for some baffling reason." he commented, to finish, sounding as though this were a criticism. Noting how he didn't seem to like talking about Snape, Tonks smiled and agreed with him happily.

That was until she heard him draw another breath and caught him leaning back in his chair casually. He spoke again, only this time, his words sounded younger, too young for his looks and they reminded Tonks of her times at school.

"Severus just cant hack the fact that you're young, beautiful and intelligent and you got the job he wanted, right away. He's been at Hogwarts for years, decades maybe, I'm guessing he's bitter because he's jealous. To put it bluntly, Nymph, he doesn't think you capable."

Shooting him a fierce look, she took back her hand abruptly, slammed her book shut and kicked her chair back under the table. "Thanks for that, Remus!" she spat, angrily. "Nice to know what Severus really thinks of me. Oh and I loved your tact with words, thanks for being so considerate." With that, she left the library.

Taking her book with her, she wrinkled her nose as her hair became the same fiery red as that of Bill Weasley's hair. Red freckles dotting around her nose, her eyes glowing a yellowy sort of orange, she walked down the stairs, rather slowly for someone so angry.

About halfway down the staircase, she suddenly felt the need to turn back as a pang of guilt twanged inside of her. Not wanting to seem either hasty or too apologetic, she creaked open the door to the library once more, only to find a very hurt Lupin wandering out of the room via the back passage.

With a sunken heart, she made her way back down the stairs and touched lightly on the level floor of the ground as she found herself in the main hallway. Running her fingers along the spine of the book, she closed her eyes briefly, swallowing her burning sense of guilt as she did so. Feeling only slightly better, she rounded the corner and wandered into the Kitchen, barely stopping to acknowledge any other presence in the room.

Flicking her wand toward a candle near her, she lit it gently and then placed her book down just as carefully. Summoning a mug from one of the shabby cupboards and opening the tea pot, she ignited a fire beneath the copper kettle and walked toward the main area of the kitchen, running a tense finger over her stressed temples.

Pouring herself some tea, she thought of how the fumes seemed rather therapeutic and, closing her eyes, she allowed the heat to sweep over her numb face. Cupping the mug in her hands, she raised it to her lips and sipped the liquid from it cautiously.

Across, on the other side of the room, at the very end of the last table, was sat Professor Severus Snape. From the moment she had walked into the room, it had become apparent that she had not the faintest idea that someone were already in there. If it weren't for her seemingly disturbed state, he would have sneered at her or told her to remove herself from his presence.

But instead, he watched her carefully as she moved around the room in a slow manner. He was most surprised to find that, contrary to his suspicions, the girl did not talk to herself. She was actual silent for once and seemed to be capable of causing not one clumsy action. There was something about the way she moved, the way her eyes averted to wherever they need be, the hypnotic way she moved her wand, that entranced him into a state he had not felt for some years.

Suddenly, he awoke himself from his silly stupor and coughed shortly into his balled up fist. He had not meant to startle her, but it was obvious he had as he heard the familiar sound of china knocking against stone. He could guess, without even looking, that she had dropped her mug in short fright.

His eyes drifting upward, only because he knew he ought see if she were alright, he caught the terrified expression on her face and somehow got an inkling that she were more scared or frightened of him than the deep looking burn gashed along her arm. Sweeping from his chair, a move so unlike himself, he whisked up the broken pottery and mopped up the split tea through charming a nearby rag.

The girl, who now had hair of a fiery red, made him take a step back as he intended to move toward her. The shade of her hair, it seemed so familiar, the scattered freckles on her china-like face, they forced the memory of Her into his resentful mind. Quite forgetting himself, he raised a hand to one of her quivering cheekbones and traced a finger down to her chin, his thumb and index cupping it gently.

She had been scared by his presence alone and became even further so when he had walked toward her. Now that he were close and his hands were on her, his skin touching hers, she felt suddenly unable to control the amount in which she were shaking and her lips quivered nervously as she felt her real appearance slowly taking form over her face.

As the likeness of Tonks to Her faded, he allowed his hand to drop and took the advantage of needing a medical kit, to allow the flush that had overcome his face, dissolve away to allow his pasty complexion to return. Turning back to her and taking a sharp, even harsh hold of her wounded arm, he strayed from looking her in the eye as he saw to her bleeding wound.

The moment he had turned away, the fiery redness of her hair had returned. Breath caught in her chest, she found herself shocked that her real appearance felt itself necessary to rear it's ugly head in front of a man such as him. Raising a freehand to her sweaty forehead, she tried to control her breathing as the controlled man saw to her injury.