Libraries weren't my favourite places. It was partly because I'm a hands-on learning kind of person, but the rest of the reason was that in my mind, libraries and Evan Rosier were forever linked.

The Slytherin had first kissed me in the Hogwarts library. It was up on the second floor, in the goblin poetry section, because no one ever went there. Could anyone blame them? Who wants to read about the beauty of silver and gold? Even though I'm sure that I wasn't the first or last girl who ever used the library to meet a boy in secret, rows of books still reminded me of my poor judgment, and the bad ending to what I'd thought was my first and last true romance.

Remus distracted me from unpleasant memories. Even as Travers, he had a fluid, animal-like economy of movement that drew my attention. I pretended that it didn't, that I was totally engrossed in our mission. After we'd used Sealing Spells to prevent triggering wards or leaving behind anything that could be traced, I said, "Don't bother looking behind paintings. What we need to find are false books. Inside one of them is what we're looking for." I realised that I'd not been told and asked, "What exactly are we looking for?"

He answered gravely, "A little black book with a list of members of the Underground inside." He said, "One of our people went missing a few weeks ago. His wife recently informed us that he had a bad memory and wrote several contacts down in his address book. He used code, but codes can eventually be broken."

That was not good. I nodded and took out my wand, carefully waving it over a section of books. My partner began to scan shelves on the opposite side of the room. Whenever a hollowed book was passed, the Detection Spell we'd employed made the wand tip glow. I'd found several texts on the Dark arts, but nothing else, until my wand passed over a large tome on a shelf on the back wall. Excitedly, I took it down and opened the cover. Inside was a solid black book. I flipped the pages open.

"That's pretty compromising, but it's not what we're seeking."

I needed to find a charm to prevent blushing. Was it my fault that someone had hidden their Wizarding version of the Kama Sutra inside another text? If Remus had been searching properly instead of peering over my shoulder, he wouldn't have caught me looking at a naughty drawing. Thank the stars it only demonstrated a kissing technique. I tried to shelve the blasted thing and fumbled, dropping the book onto the floor, where the inner text promptly plopped out and opened to another eye-opening page.

"Allow me."

Remus reassembled the tome and placed it back on the shelf. He had that gleam in his eye again. I took a step back and bumped into a bookshelf. A small, thin book was jolted onto the floor. Our wand tips glowed. We smiled at each other. He opened the text and found a surprisingly tiny black book inside. It was the one we had been looking for. Replacing the false tome, Remus slipped the book into his pocket while we moved toward the fireplace.

Halfway across the room, his fingers curled around my arm while he tilted his head as though listening to something. He whispered, "Someone's coming."

Kingsley Shacklebolt had called my methods "unorthodox." Merlin only knew what he'd consider what I did next. I pushed Remus down upon the nearby leather sofa, ripping off my flimsy dress robes while pushing up my skirt to straddle his lap. Leaning close, I breathed, "We're not searching the library. We're a couple having a snog."

When voices neared the library door, I kissed him, using my fingers' grip in currently blond hair to anchor his mouth to mine.

He responded passionately.

I rationalised that French kissing was merely done to make the act believable. His hands glided over my bare back. Dimly, I heard the sounds of people entering. Amused laughter rang out.

"Damned if those rumours about the 'randy Traverses' weren't spot on, Rosier."

"Don't know if I approve of marrieds acting like lovers, Evan."

The first voice belonged to Vincent Crabbe Sr., the second to Priscilla Parkinson. Dragging my lips from Remus's, I nuzzled his neck to avoid meeting anyone's eyes, affecting a drunken spate of giggles. "Oopsie. Let's go home, darling. I want to get…comfortable."

"Perhaps you'd better, Terrence, if you're going to fondle your wife in public. Purebloods should have a bit more control, old man."

The contemptuous amusement of my ex would've had me throwing the nearest blunt object in times past. At this moment, I was torn between wanting him to leave so I could get up and run for the fireplace, and being recklessly content to continue the bizarre conversation and stay right where I was. My eyes focused on temporary blue that could never compare to soulful brown. His gaze darkened while his lips lowered.

"Good gods, they're insatiable. I'm off to tell the wife about this!"

"Evan, stop watching them and let's go get some champagne. I'm thirsty!"

Prissy's whine compelled Evan to say, "Yes, let's." He raised his voice, "Travers, it's obvious that you'll have a good evening, so I'll simply bid you farewell."

Gaze capturing mine, Remus replied huskily, "Farewell."

When the door clicked shut, I pushed against Remus's shoulders, needing to put some distance between us. His hand slid underneath my hair to cup my nape and gently but inexorably bring me closer. "Rosier's coming back." This time he was the one to kiss me to make the show believable while I responded ardently.

The door opened with only the faintest of creaks. After watching us silently for several moments, Evan, or whoever it had been at the door, retreated just as quietly.

We kept kissing. My partner made a growling noise in his throat that startled me into pulling away. This time, Remus allowed me to go. I snatched up my dress robes and fastened them while rushing over to the fireplace. Almost frantically, I shook out my skirts and futilely tried to smooth down my hair. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, I stepped into the fireplace. Before leaving, I saw Remus lift his hand. When he closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply, I choked out, "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"The scent of your skin lingers on mine."

I don't think I've ever thrown Floo powder faster in my life. On the other end, I stumbled out onto the hearth and past the domestic goddess, still gowned as though ready to preside over a garden party at a moment's notice. Inside the guest bedroom, I returned my features to normal, but gave myself wine red hair and chocolate brown eyes. After that, I did a strip and change with swiftness that Muggle firefighters would envy. Shoving my dress and heels back into the garment bag, I headed for the front door.

Remus called my name. Thank the stars above that he still looked like Travers. I rushed into speech. "Hey, I've got someplace to go, another job, so you do the debriefing, OK?"

"Stay." Even blond and bland, Remus J. Lupin was too dangerous for my peace of mind. I shook my head.

Behind him, Hestia said, "Let her go, Remus, she's fulfilled her purpose. We don't need her anymore. Have a cup of tea with Emmeline and me." In a soft, inviting voice, she coaxed, "I baked your favourite biscuits just this afternoon."

I practically reeled out of the door and into corridor beyond. No wonder Ms. Prim and Proper didn't approve of me. She had her eye on Remus! The adoring way she looked at him, and the possessive way she touched his arm was sickening.

The witch obviously didn't want a younger woman giving her competition. Hah. Biscuit-queen was no competition for me. The sugar Remus wanted didn't come in granulated form. I tried to imagine Hestia draped over Remus, tongue-locked. The vision that sprang to mind made me so furious that I did something I'd only done once before. I threw a tantrum.

My tantrum wasn't the typical childish kicking and screaming fit. The summer my Gran had dedicated to making sure I experienced non-magical teen life, I read a Muggle novel that had a deep impact. Ogre, Ogre by Piers Anthony was set in a land called Xanth, where magical creatures abounded. The story was a humorous adventure, with romance and a plethora of puns thrown in. I'd read the book three times.

The heroine, Tandy's, magical talent was throwing "tantrums". When the girl experienced extreme emotions, her face would turn red, fists and eyes clenching shut, body stiffening until she could hurl psychic force, a tantrum, to devastating effect.

I used to think that was so freaking cool. One night, when my boyfriend wouldn't stop trying to coax me into the back seat of his car, I'd unconsciously imitated the fictional girl. Rory thought the exploding windshield was the result of a drive-by shooting. I knew that it was wild magic.

The force I unleashed hit the wall by the door of the flat, melting the Welcome Friends plaque that had been hanging, a wreath of pastel flowers and butterflies. Goo dripped down the scorched wall. I took out my wand to vanish the mess. Other than a missing plaque and a large brown splotch on the magnolia paint that I considered an improvement, all traces of my tantrum had vanished. Regressing to teenage defiance, I gave the woman's door a backward V, not for victory.

Outside on the sidewalk, I looked up at the dark sky. Just that afternoon, Morty's receptionist, Bubbles, had looked up from polishing her nails with a charm when I'd returned from the Ministry. Apropos of nothing, she'd commented that wasn't it interesting how full moons made people realise that they needed to live their lives fully. I'd placated the ditzy blonde with a nod, but now . . . .

A glance upwards showed the moon that, when viewed a few nights ago from a comfortable lounger, had evoked such a deep longing. My gaze travelled to a certain window. A dark silhouette stood watching me. Tearing my gaze away, a beer can littering the ground caught my eye. Instead of being a good citizen and picking it up for deposit in the proper receptacle, I kicked it.

.

After returning to the Blue Moon, I paused in the doorway of the boss' office. "Don't you ever sleep?"

Without glancing up from the numerous billing statements he was preparing to send clients, my uncle smirked. "Look who's talking, Morpheus girl."

Lisa was going to get a hex. I didn't know which one just yet, but it would cause maximum embarrassment.

Morty lifted his head and saw my expression. "Hey, don't blame her, we were just talking and it kind of came up."

The brazen Orion Mortimer Black looked surprisingly edgy, so I asked, "You were talking where? In your office? Or on a date?"

Straightening to appear more dignified or something, my rascally uncle said, "It was a business dinner, and I'll thank you to keep that private, young lady."

I nodded solemnly before sniggering as I headed for the stairs.

His voice followed me. "Don't forget about the job tonight."

I called back, "Slag duty. How could I forget?"

Morty had an infectious laugh. That was the only reason I was smiling. I'd been on three decoy missions since the night I'd picked up Remus by mistake, but this was the first time I would return to The Black Wolf.

I opened the door of my flat, narrowly avoiding tripping over a pile of Daily Prophet newspapers. I stomped into the bedroom only big enough to hold a double bed and a small chest of drawers. With a snap, I opened the wardrobe that was thankfully built into the wall and retrieved a little red dress. The spouse was purported to have a preference for a lady in red. A shower and a morph of features into long black hair and thin, elegant bone structure made me ready to test a man's fidelity.

Strolling into The Black Wolf, I scanned the room and zeroed in on the subject of my matrimonial enquiry. He was a bespectacled man in his forties. I sat on the bar stool beside the potential cheat and threw him a smile. His face lit up. Not allowing the contempt I felt to show, I leaned closer and offered to buy him a drink.

After I'd completed the assignment and sent the clueless lothario back to his wife with my phoney Floo direction written on a cocktail napkin in his pocket, I moved to a booth in the back of the pub. A wave of my wand conjured the paperwork that Monty would transform into a professional report for the client when I turned it in tomorrow. Transcribing the-agent-said-this-and-then-the-subject-of-the-investigation-said-that was one of those necessary chores that I despised. I was grimacing over the challenge of objectively describing events when I heard a man speak.

"May I buy you a drink?"

My heart started pounding. Imitating my mother's composure, I looked up and said, "Thank you, but I don't accept drinks from strangers."

A small smile curved tempting masculine lips and made brown eyes shine. Remus slid onto the bench across from me. "Nice try, Nymphadora, but I know it's you."

Oh, Merlin, the way he said my awful name made me shiver. I shifted my face back to normal. "How did you know I was here? Did you track my scent?"

Something primitive flared in his eyes before he replied lightly, "No, I dropped by the Blue Moon and had an informative conversation with your Uncle Mortimer."

What had Morty told him? Not wanting to know, I said, "I'm surprised your lady friend let you leave so soon."

Remus looked genuinely surprised. "My—what are you talking about?"

I snapped, "Hestia, Ms. I baked your favourite biscuits and they're extra soft because I drooled over them thinking about you."

His bark of laughter made me wish I'd let him buy me a drink so I could toss it in his face.

When I tried to stand and leave, Remus's hand shot out and held mine across the table. "Don't run . . . unless you're trying to unleash my predatory instincts."

Shaking my head vigorously, I sat back down. His grip loosened to a gentle clasp. I could've pulled away. I didn't. His thumb moved to press the underside of my wrist. Remus's smile at feeling the rapid pulse caused me to ask, "Are you and Jones keeping company?"

"No. I'm interested in someone else."

I stared at the handsome, weary face, the grey-streaked hair, the slightly shabby clothes, and the elegant hand of a gentleman who showed intriguing glimpses of a more primal side. My own instincts demanded that I flee from the danger to my heart as fast as possible. I looked away. Intending on keeping my resolve, on telling him not to come looking for me anymore, I glanced back.

Unable to help myself, I blurted, "Who?"