I don't own anything, just my own vanilla sex dreams.

In my last chapter, a sharp eyes reviewer pointed out that the Room of Requirement was unplottable on the Marauders map. Sorry if that was unclear. Ginny did not see Harry on the map and go to find him, she felt that he was in pain, and used the map to negotiated her way through the halls without getting caught on her way to Grimmauld. Thanks for keeping tabs on me though.

This chapter is mostly plot stuff, but I had to throw in a Remus/Tonks scene for someone who asked. And my own benefit. If you notice, I tend to give Ron (who has more time to devote his considerable energy to hedonistic imaginings than poor Harry) and Remus (who is a lovely combination of control and wildness) the most attention. Some odd combination of the two would be just about perfect for me, and would I suppose add up to be my sweet husband. I'm such a lucky girl!

This got a bit long, so I promise I'll get on with the plot soon, though I might have to sacrifice the lemony bits for the next chapter!

8

Nymphadora Tonks woke suddenly, a bit of weak light leaking through the curtains alerting her that dawn had finally arrived. She had finally fallen asleep after the moon had set a few hours ago, but the rest of the night had been spent pacing. She had not felt any undue stress from Remus, or the pain and frustration that she had been expecting, but her logical brain would not accept what her heart told her, and she had worried. She had felt no untoward affects, other than a sense of restless irritability, and so when she popped out of bed and banged on the bedroom door, she sounded quite surly.

"Moody! I'm still human! Let me out of here this minute."

There was no answer, but a weak mumble.

"Moody, if you don't let me out of here and let me see Remus, I'll hex off what's left of your nose, you great git!"

A shuffle and a click, and Tonks was greeted by that roving electric blue eye. "A man's gotta sleep sometime, Nymphadora."

She crossed her arms, "What ever happened to constant vigilance?"

He smirked, a truly fearsome sight, and she slipped passed him, still dressed in the ratty pajamas she had donned just in case she should somehow turn into a werewolf. These were her least favorite, and if they were torn to shreds, it would have been no loss. He called after her, "Interesting hair, my dear."

She ignored him, and flew down the steps, managing to only trip once at the bottom of the first floor staircase. She made her way to the basement through the empty house, silent as it was barely daylight and not yet six thirty. She threw open the bar to the door and crept as quietly as her graceless limbs could manage, expecting to find Remus naked and shivering, curled on the cold stone floor as usual, bleeding scratches covering his chest and arms. Instead, Remus was lying peacefully on a scratched up couch, a blanket pulled over him, though she could tell he wore nothing underneath. She turned, not wishing to disturb him if he still slept, but glanced back to admire his face, handsome and peaceful instead of drawn and shadowed. Whatever power he had gathered from their bond, it must have helped.

He cracked open one eye, "Hello Dora love."

She turned back to him. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since I heard you trip on the landing upstairs."

She rolled her eyes. "You seem to be doing well." He sat up, the blanket revealing his naked chest, lean and hard and covered with countless healed scars, but no fresh ones. She took a step closer, brushing her hand over his chest. He caught her wrist with his lightening fast reflexes, and held her hand to his heart.

"There was no pain, Nymphadora." His eyes bore into hers and shone with emotion. "Thank you."

She brushed his longish hair from his brow, "I'm so happy, love."

His look turned into one of concern, and he reached up, touching a curl that had fallen on to her shoulder. "Are you alright, my dear? Your hair, your eyes? Did…did you…"

"I'm a might bit more irritable than normal, but no worse than a bad bout of PMS. Perhaps the two illnesses are distantly related." She held her hair up in front of her, noticing the length was longer than she had dressed for bed, and the color was an odd mixed of grey and tawny gold. Definitely wolfish. "And what color are my eyes then?"

"Yellow, I suppose. Maybe more an amber. A bit like mine."

"I could change it, if it bothers you."

He smiled, and pulled her forward between his knees. "I like you a bit on the wild side, my dear."

"Same to you, Moony." She bent down and kissed him, a kiss that started hungry and passionate, but ended sweetly, almost reverently. Their faces inches apart, his hands holding her close against his naked chest, he stared up into her face. "You are really alright?"

She smiled, "I am really alright. Except for a lack of sleep from worry. Which was silly…I could feel…I know you were all right, but I still couldn't quite believe…."

"I'm not sure I can quite believe it either." He swallowed, and a shadow passed over his face. "It was the first time, even with the wolfsbane, that there wasn't any pain. I…I think the Wolf is so vicious because of the pain. The driving hunger, it wasn't so bad, it was manageable. I…I didn't have to fight it. I think I know now what Sirius must have felt like to become Padfoot, or James, Prongs. It, I didn't feel like I was losing myself in the pain anymore." His eyes were filled with an earnest wonder, and she felt hers fill with tears. She clasped his head to her chest, and they remained like that, filled with hope and wonder, for minutes.

Reality leaked in as she his warm breath against her nipples through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Embarassment flooded her as she realized what a fright she must look, with only a few hours sleep, and in her oldest, most worn T-shirt and pajama pants.

He turned his face up to her again, and gave her a devilish grin. She suddenly could picture him perfectly as a Marauder. His hands gathered the loose fabric of her shirt, and this pulled her T-shirt taut against her front, her breast revealed clearly through the thin cotton. "I quite like it, actually."

She'd forgotten he could hear her thoughts, but his appreciative gaze on her breasts made her realize that he was completely nude, covered only from the waist down by the thin blanket. His clothes would only get ruined otherwise. She'd donned the old pajamas just in case something happened, and if they were torn, it would not be a great loss.

He pulled tighter, and she could hear stitches pop in the ragged seams. "Remus, I've got no other clothes to wear…."

"I'll share mine." And with his growl, the shirt ripped, revealing her naked chest. He captured a nipple with a voracious bite, and she threw her head back in rapture.

"Aren't….aren't you tired?" She asked breathlessly, though she could already feel the answer, both through the link that grew stronger with such physical contact, and his hardness prodding against the apex of her thighs. She pushed her hands against his chest and stood shakily, the look of abandonment on his face almost comical. She just smiled, and pulled her pants off as quickly as possible. The scent of her arousal filled them both with longing. Unfortunately, such a state of arousal did not help her to be any less clumsy, and she managed to trip as she stepped out of the pants, falling heavily on to a ragged looking rugs on the cold floor.

But she wasn't cold for long. Remus was on top of her in a moment, and their lips were locked in a fierce kiss. Remus drew back for a moment, "Dora, please, I need…." She wrapped her legs around him, and he slid into her, and they both felt a sense of homecoming that was undeniable. He held himself above her on strong arms, and his amber eyes bore into hers, searching for something, still unsure that this was real, despite the feelings they shared.

I love you, Remus Lupin.

He closed his eyes, needing those words. I don't deserve you. You are too good.

She thrust her hips at him, forcing him to move inside her, and they both gasped at the intense pleasure. You, my love, are a complete git. Marry me.

His eyes flew open, his body stilled. "What?"

She paled. "Um, I….I can't help what I think."

He smiled. "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Her heart beat faster, not wanting to believe.

He thrust again, and she shivered at the pleasure.

"Yes…" Thrust, in.

"I…" Out, moan.

"Will…." In again, and her nails dug into his back.

"Marry…." She squeaked in response.

"You!." He pounded into her, allowing her no chance for coherent thought as the combination of the delicious invasion of her body and the echo of the effect of the sweet pressure of her walls on him combined toward a mind-numbing orgasm in record time. She began a long keening moan of victory as she came, and his throaty growl added the perfect harmony.

As there breathing returned to normal, Remus snagged the blanket from the couch and covered them both with it as they curled together on the floor. "When?" she asked.

"Oh..." he moaned. "I'm not sure a bloke can be held accountable for things he agrees to whilst engaged in intercourse with a beautiful woman."

She hit him in the shoulder. "Ow!" They both said.

"Ha, you have to be nice to me, I'm an old worn out man."

"You seemed just fine a moment ago."

"Only fine?" He asked raising himself onto one elbow and looking down at her, and she loved it that he would joke with her. That he could joke with her, when usually after a transformation he was completely withdrawn, hating himself.

"Magnificent, stupendous, extraordinary." She swallowed, unable to meet his eyes. "So wonderful I can't let you get away from me."

"Are you certain?"

She rolled her eyes. "I am completely sick of you asking me this. Yes! I want to spend the rest of my life, however long or short it might be with the bloody world falling apart around us, with one wonderful werewolf, Remus Lupin, lover extraordinare. Dammit, Moony, this damn potion wouldn't work if I didn't love…" he wouldn't let her finish, but kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms around him, and heard his answer in her head.

Gods, I love you. Tomorrow if we could. Today. This very minute. You are mine.

Happiness flooded her, along with a wave of exhaustion from lack of sleep, tension and physical exertion. Before she even realized it, she was asleep in his arms, more content than she could have ever imagined.

Harry knelt in front of the gravestone his parents shared, and the nightmares echoed in his head.

No, not Harry, not Harry. Take me….His mother's cries were familiar, wonderful and terrible as the only connect he had with her.

You'll not have it, or them, you bastard….His father's stern voice, filled with purpose and a touch of fear was new. But he not the energy to wonder.

Tears filled his eyes, and the touched the earth before him, physically closer to his parents now than he had been for sixteen years, only six feet separating them. He didn't know how to go on, when everybody kept dying. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore. He was silent and stiff in his grief, overwhelmed by it all. He was supposed to be the bloody Savior of the Wizarding World, and he felt like he could do nothing at all but cause death and destruction.

And then, a touch on his shoulder, a flowery scent, and he was embraced in warm arms as the tears broke through. Ginny. She had followed them to Godric's Hollow, though he had told her to stay, to be safe, to forget him. Ron and Hermione had stood back, not knowing what to do or what to say, but Ginny had come, and had found him. Release filled him, with the knowledge that he wasn't alone. He loved this girl, this woman, and she loved him. His friends loved him, and he loved them. He loved this world, the world that had opened for him at eleven, the world that all these people had died to protect.

"I see you've found each other again." Startled, he and Ginny looked up from the ground where they knelt to the figure hovering before them. They were in a fog of white, and before them was Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as merry as always.

Ginny recovered first. "Professor, what….where…"

"Miss Weasley, I'm so very happy that you ignored Mr. Potter's ridiculous actions and proceeded to convince him that you were much better off together." Ginny blinked, and Harry remained stunned, still hugging her fiercely. Dumbledore chuckled. "I know this is quite a shock, but I haven't long you see. It takes a fair bit of energy to project from where I am, and I'm afraid that I must tell you something important. You've found the power of love, you two. Now, you must use it wisely and well. Use the pensieve, Harry. I've left it for you, though you haven't been back to Hogwarts to claim it."

"I didn't know, sir…Sir, I'm so sorry, I'll find Snape too, I promise…"

"Harry, there's no time...Severus isn't to blame, but I can't say more. Examine your memories, Harry. I think that your father might have been trying to…." There was a wailing noise, and Dumbledore was fading, his words lost. Harry reached out, as though to touch the dimming purple robes. Another face, intent with effort, appeared in the fog.

"Harry, Harry….can you hear me? I'm trying, I'm trying Harry, I'll be there in a minute, I swear…." But the face drew away, as though being pulled back against it's will.

Harry yelled, and got off his feet, running toward the face of the man that seemed to recede into the distance. "Sirius!"

Harry awoke, sweating, unsure of what had just happened. He had had nightmares so many times that he was unphased by most, but this was strange, and more disturbing than most. He was alone again, in Sirius' room in Grimmauld, though Mrs. Weasily had managed a thorough cleaning before Harry had taken up residence.

Ginny had woken up at three in the morning in a panic, and Harry had dashed to his room to loan her his Invisibility Cloak to use along with the map to get back to the dorms. She had left him with a kiss, and he had been unable to restrain himself from thinking how much he wanted to wake up every morning with her in his arms. She had given him a mysterious smile, and shielded her thoughts from him enough so that he only got a glimpse of an image that arose in her mind, of them standing in the garden in the Burrow, him in formal black robes and she in white with a crown of flowers in her unbound hair. He still wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she'd disappeared up the replicated Girls' staircase, on her way to the real one as fast as she could.

He'd returned to Grimmauld, and climbed into his cold and lonely bed. The dreams had started not long after, but this last one had been so vivid, he almost felt that Dumbledore and Sirius were still in the room with him. He had barely thought of Sirius in months, with the death of Dumbledore, the betrayal by Snape, and the intense bond he had developed with Ginny. Guilt flooded him that he had forgotten his godfather, one of the few people in his life who had ever loved him. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Ginny, the Weasleys, Ron and Hermione….

"Bollocks. Hermione…I've got to go talk to her…," he muttered. He had acted like a total prat, and she didn't deserve it. He just was so frustrated. They had gained all these powers with the Amora potion, and yet they still could come up with a plan to destroy the two Horcrux they had, or find the one that was missing.

He sat up in bed, the clock reading not quite eight. Harry pulled on some clothes in a rush, and knocked on Ron's door, but was not surprised to receive no response. Hermione rarely let herself sleep past seven, and Ron had apparently grown used to having her by his side, for her rarely stayed in bed alone anymore. Harry went down the stairs to the kitchen, thinking that perhaps they were having breakfast, but found only Mrs. Weasley bustling about, a contemplative look on her face.

"Oh, Harry dear. It's good to see you. You must be hungry, you look so thin all the time." Her warm look was a comfort, and yet he could not help but feel embarrassed in her presence, sneaking around with her daughter the way that he was. She went on, concern on her features, and something else he couldn't identify, "I know you have more on your mind to worry you than most young men, but you still need to take care of yourself, and find…comfort where you can." She turned away, and stirred at a pot on the stove.

Thoughts of the need for an apology to Hermione fled as Harry blushed. He had the uncomfortable sensation that Molly Weasley knew a lot more about what went on in this house than anyone had guessed. He supposed he had just received her tacit permission to carry on with her daughter, but he didn't want her thinking poorly of him.

"Mrs Weasley, ma'am?" She turned back to him, setting a plate of eggs and toast piled high in front of him.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm sorry that I have to ask, Mrs. Weasley," Harry could feel himself sweat nervously. "But, among wizards…I mean, in the magical world, how do you get ma.…I…." He blew out a breath in frustration. "Would a man have to ask permission of a girl's parents to ask her to marry him? I mean, do you need a license and everything?"

Mrs. Weasley looked dumbfounded for a moment, and then a wide grin settled on her face. "Harry…I'm so happy...of course you can…" She sobered, and took her queue for an impersonal answer. "No, dear, although that's a very sweet thought. A lifebonding is between two people only, and no one can really prevent it, love, or give their permission. When it happens, the ceremony is really after the fact, for if two people truly fall in love and wish to spend their lives together, they are really already married." Harry smiled suddenly, thinking that the whole thing would be much easier than he'd ever thought, if he and Ginny were already practically married anyway. Mrs. Weasley continued her lecture. "Some pureblooding families have silly ceremonies to try and force two of their ilk together, but it often turns out badly. That's why there's such a rate of Squibs amongst them, I'm afraid. Tsk, tsk," she clucked her tongue in disapproval, "If You-Know-Who were to have his way, there wouldn't be a wizard or witch left after fifty years. It takes love to make proper magic, much less a proper child!" She blushed suddenly, and her eyes darted to Harry, who gulped suddenly. "But I don't think that will be a problem for you dear, you wouldn't be thinking of children yet, would you?" Her tone was a bit severe, and Harry shook slightly, but she turned around again, and flicked her wand at the dishes in the sink. She muttered something under her breath which sounded suspiciously like, "I wouldn't mind having grandchildren though, I suppose."

Harry hadn't given it much thought, but the image of his Ginny holding a black-haired baby in her arms and singing a soft lullaby made his heart skip a beat. He closed his eyes. His longing for a family was so intense, but he had never really realized that if he lived, he could have one, he could make his own with the woman he loved. He would find a way to make the world safe, so that his child, maybe even children, would have a safe place to grow up, and parents who could lavish them with the affection he had not known in his childhood.

Mrs. Weasley was speaking again, breaking into his serious thoughts, "Eat up, dear. I don't know what's come over everyone today. Moody's asleep, which is as rare a thing as I've ever seen, Nymphadora's hasn't come down to breakfast either, and she's usually as hungry as a bear in the morning. And Ron and Hermione left with just some toast on their way to do some research. Hah." She laughed, "Those two have certainly gotten close, haven't they?"

Harry jumped up, remembering that he still needed to apologize to Hermione. "I better find them then, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for breakfast."

He was almost out the door, when he heard, "Take care of Ginny for me, Harry." He turned, eyes wide again. She must have known about the connection to Hogwarts, if not the extent of his and Ginny's relationship.

"I will, with my life, I will."