The jazz club in Chelsea was one of those exclusive places that didn't advertise. Everyone who knew jazz found their way inside. Those who didn't went somewhere else with the management's blessing. Three numbers set in a brick half circle over the door to an unassuming stone building were the only outward sign of the establishment within.

Remus and I had Apparated to Diagon Alley and taken a Squire Cab to the club since I'd never been there before. My mind was still whirling from the events that had taken place when the Underground's meeting had ended. Hestia dousing me with tea and Cami ripping off my robes to expose the flirty dress beneath were the impetus, but not the reason I'd swung from elation to frustration and back again.

The euphoria was caused by Remus informing her that he was my date. It might not have been nice to enjoy the look of jealousy on Ms. Sour Grapes' face, but it was deeply satisfying. Maybe now she'd keep her pink talons to herself, and I wouldn't be tempted to rip a few off.

The frustration was the result of masculine fingers slipping beneath the raspberry coloured ribbons to caress my skin through the under slip. Not being able to do more than smile politely in response to various members' compliments on my dress while those fingertips raised my blood pressure had made me tetchy. Finally, I cut off Sturgis Podmore's rambling tale of a gown he'd seen made of scarves…or perhaps handkerchiefs…and said goodbye while heading for the exit.

The moment my wolfishly grinning date had stepped outside, I'd turned and pressed him back against the door, planting a kiss on his mouth that made me giggle at his dazed expression.

"I hope you don't mind public displays of affection," I said.

"No," Remus replied in a thoughtful tone. "I don't."

"You sound surprised."

"I am. I've never been so bold with a woman before."

A grin stretched my cheeks. "Good. That makes us even. I've never acted this way before either."

As we entered the club, Remus chuckled at the look on my face. "If you're thinking what I'm thinking about, feel free to do that again any time you like."

I gave him a heated look that had his eyes widening, until he noticed I was trying not to laugh. His bark of amusement set me off. Heads turned. My laughter wasn't very ladylike. After Remus led me to a small, round table and went to grab a couple of drinks at the bar, I looked around, liking what I saw. The stage was well placed. Almost everyone listening would have an excellent view of the performers. Across the walls washed in pale yellow, an artist had drawn portraits of jazz greats. I didn't recognise many of the immortalised artists, but I admired the artwork.

"I realised that I never asked if you like jazz," Remus said after returning with our wine.

Accepting a glass, I waited for him to take the seat beside me and admitted, "I'm eclectic when it comes to music, which means that I like and know a little about a lot of styles, but I'm no authority on any in particular." I smiled. "Gran, my dad's mum, listens to Armstrong, Ellington, Basie, and ladies like Billie Holliday and Ella Fitzgerald. I like them a lot." I took a sip of white wine. "What about you? How'd you end up liking jazz?"

Remus's black jersey and trousers made his brown eyes look dark and mysterious. I leaned closer to hear him say, "My father. I grew up listening to Be-Bop and Hard-Bop . . . and . . . you look as though flobberworms are crawling out my ears."

I don't usually like to admit that I don't know something. In school, if a professor was teaching something new that I didn't get right off, I'd wait, go to the library, and find a book to teach myself. Since my date hadn't made me feel like an ignoramus when I'd admitted that my Latin was sketchy, I took a chance and said, "No, I just thought bopping was dancing. What's it mean in jazz?"

His mouth curved temptingly. He took my hand and slowly traced a line back and forth from the tip of my index finger down to my wrist to convey mainstream jazz. Explaining that Be-Bop was typically fast lines, Remus drew circles on my palm. I waited breathlessly to see how he would get across the hard driving, swinging approach of Hard-Bop. An emcee stepped onto the stage. Everything girly in me that had been going oh yeah now went oh not yet. The lights dimmed. I caught a flash of white teeth when Remus noticed the pout I couldn't suppress. A quintet set up and began to play.

His breath made me shiver when he whispered in my ear, "I'll show you later."

The band played standards from the 20's, 30's, and 40's. I employed the surveillance techniques learned in Auror training and covertly watched Remus more than the musicians on stage. The almost imperceptible way he moved in time to the beat, and the faint smile on his lips and in his eyes made me enjoy the music in a way I wouldn't have otherwise. Was that shallow? I didn't care. His eyes captured mine. The band took a break between sets. Recorded music began to play. Remus took my hand and led me to the small dance floor at the other end of the club. Swaying with him, resting my head on Remus's shoulder, I giggled over the words to the song.

I could hear the smile in his voice. "What's so amusing?"

Softly, I spoke the title along with the singer, "What a difference a day makes."

Clever fingers slid beneath the silky ribbons and stroked my waist and back. Referring to the lyrics, he asked, "Was it a thrilling kiss?

The slight uncertainty in his voice overrode my usual caution. Tired of letting my head rule my heart, I nodded. "A moment of bliss." When he smiled, almost shyly pleased, I said, "I want another one." He'd told me to feel free to kiss him anytime I liked. Taking him at his word, I rose on tiptoes to press a kiss against the mouth opening in surprise. Not wanting to embarrass him with an extended public display of affection, I tried to step back. His arms tightened, his lips moving, parting and seducing.

"Nymphadora Tonks, what would your grandmother say?"

Some voices were unforgettable. Rory Farrell's was one of them. When Remus's mouth left mine, I saw that Rory was still an Irish rogue, albeit a better dressed one, in an expensive-looking black suit. I decided to pretend we'd parted on amicable terms. After all, compared to my break up with Evan, we had.

"Gran would say that it was about time." I tried to sound casual. "Remus, this is Rory, an…old friend from the neighbourhood."

The lilt in the Irishman's voice had charmed more people than I could count. Remus didn't return the younger man's hearty "pleased to meet you" with more than civility. Rory's girlfriend, a statuesque blonde named Audrey, looked bored and restless when he offered to buy a round. I started to decline, but Remus accepted. Following our dates to a larger table, Audrey and I exchanged glances that women have likely given each other since time began. They were filled with exasperation and said without words, "Men!"

Sitting between Rory and Remus was not the most felicitous of circumstances. That was one of Mum's sayings that in this case meant I felt awkward as hell. Rory was laying on the Irish charm, regaling Audrey and Remus with tales of our youth. Within minutes, "Lupin, boyo" got a thumbnail sketch of my summer learning about Muggles and would probably never want to kiss the mouth Blarney-master Farrell had touched ever again. My lips pursed.

Rory laughed. "I remember that look, Nym, luv. Last time I saw it, my windshield exploded."

"Really?"

Oh, now Remus decided to speak. I sent my old friend a look that said "spill and die." His trademark smile gleamed. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, actually."

Remus looked steadily at the other man. "Then say what you brought us over here to say."

All right, maybe I had thought Rory might be carrying the teensiest torch for me. Perhaps I'd also imagined that Remus was the tiniest bit jealous of my old boyfriend, and they'd been doing some male rivalry thing. Hearing that the guys actually had an agenda—other than me—deflated my ego quite nicely. If I hadn't bitten it, my bottom lip would've poked out while Rory leaned toward me.

He said, "I have sources, you might say, in the old neighbourhood. These sources reported that a stranger has been asking questions about a nice old lady and her granddaughter. When questioned, the bloke disappeared." Leaning back, Rory shrugged, dark eyes smiling. "When I saw you tonight, I thought you'd like to know."

I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "Thank you."

Winking at me, he promised, "If one of my boys catches the bloke nosing round again, he'll have a little talk, find out who's put the eye on you." Rory asked Audrey, "Ready to go, darlin'?" She jumped up eagerly. He stood. The blonde glued herself to his side. Nodding to Remus, and telling me, "A pleasure seeing you, Nym," Rory strolled out like he owned the place. Maybe he did. It was a Muggle club, and his Uncle Colin loved jazz.

I began to trace the rim of my glass with a fingertip, unsure how to react to the news that some unknown person was asking questions about me and my Gran. The Auror in me suggested that some Dark wizard had tracked me down. The sceptical part of my brain, sounding eerily like my mother, scoffed at such specious reasoning. I hadn't arrested a Dark wizard yet, and surely my home would be a more practical target. Warm fingers stopped my nervous action. I stared at Remus's hand covering mine. It was elegant and pale, with the long fingers of an artist. Slight calluses and almost invisible scars made me wonder what else that hand had done besides teach and translate Latin texts. Hard manual labour? Wizard employers who would hire a werewolf were the exception rather than the rule.

Remus had more patience than I did, waiting quietly for me to raise my eyes. I broke the silence by asking, "Do you think the person asking about Gran is connected to my work with the Underground?"

His fingers clasped and gently squeezed mine. "I don't know." A corner of his mouth quirked upward. "What upset you more, hearing about the watcher or learning about him from your old friend?"

Wishing that the lighting wasn't so dim that it was hard to read his face, I retorted, "What do you think?"

"I don't know. How did the windshield explode?"

I pulled my hand away to cross my arms across my chest in a defensive posture. "Rory wouldn't believe that I wasn't panting to have it off in the backseat of his car. I got mad and threw a tantrum. Some kind of wild magic. It exploded the window."

An arrested look stole across Remus's face. Leaning toward me, he asked, "Have you thrown one of those tantrums recently?"

Involuntarily, my eyes shifted to the left. "What are you talking about?"

It was evident by his suppressed smile that Remus knew the instinctive eye movement meant I was trying to deceive. He said, "Hestia's welcome plaque somehow melted. She told me before the meeting that only a scorched mark and a few traces of pink paint were left."

"There were no traces of paint."

His smile made me realise my slip. Rattled, I reached for my glass and accidentally knocked the drink over. It was the final straw. Pushing to my feet, I darted for the exit. Outside, I Disapparated before Remus could do more than call my name. Instead of Apparating at the front of the Blue Moon, I chose the back alley, where I pulled down the fire escape. Climbing up the ladder as though a wolf was nipping at my heels, I cursed when one of my slides slipped on a rung and tumbled to the ground. I took off the remaining shoe and threw it onto the rooftop. Once I clambered over the ledge, I pulled up the ladder.

City lights competed with the stars for radiance. Unaccountably, the waning of the moon made me sad. I felt stupid for running off, for not talking things out. Why did I always act first and think later? Standing in the middle of Morty's beloved rooftop garden, the stars began to blur.

"I believe this is yours."

I looked disbelievingly from the shoe to the man holding it. Remus had climbed up the fire escape. "How?"

His smile was crooked. "Instinct."

I laughed shakily. "I could use some of that. My instincts are rotten, at least when it comes to relationship stuff. Maybe you could tell."

When his arms encircled me, I melted into his embrace. Remus soothingly caressed my back and confessed, "I'm not used to feeling jealous. Intellectually, I knew that you had no interest in Farrell, but emotionally, ah, there I reacted badly and pushed you into leaving. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I thought you didn't care if Rory had been more than a friend. I thought you were making fun of me for being jealous of Hestia baking you those bloody biscuits and touching you." In his arms, I didn't mind admitting, "I did melt her sign with a tantrum." He chuckled. I said ruefully, "I would've left it dripping down the wall if I hadn't been afraid that everyone would find out what I did and realise why I did it."

Lips that were firm and soft at the same time covered mine. I responded with everything that I had, wishing that I could freeze that moment, feel his body pressing against mine, taste his mouth forever. When his lips trailed across my cheek to my ear, I whispered, "I don't want to be with any man but you, Remus."

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "I don't want to be with any other woman." Leading me over to a padded double lounger, he said, "I hope I'm not presumptive for asking, but will you stay in my arms until the stars fade?"

I nodded. Lying beside Remus, feeling cherished and safe within the circle of his arms, I rested my cheek against his chest and confided drowsily, "I've never done this before."

Sleepy amusement laced his pleasant voice. "What, slept out on the roof?"

"No, slept in a man's arms."

The fingers that had been lazily trailing up my arm stilled. "You were engaged."

In the darkness, I could barely distinguish the outline of Remus's face. Somehow, that made it easier to share, "He said it was to protect my reputation. We would go out a couple of times a week, but I always Flooed home afterwards. It used to bother me, sometimes, but now . . . ."

"Yes?"

I whispered, "I'm glad that it's with you."

He brushed a kiss across my hair. "I'm happy too. Happier than I've been in a long, long time."

It was natural to be curious, and I wondered for a moment what people and events in this man's life had caused the sadness that shadowed his eyes from time to time. I didn't ask any questions. Right now, he was happy to be with me, and that was all that mattered.

In the morning, I was awakened by a gruff voice exclaiming, "Somebody's been sleeping on my lounger, and they're still here!"

The corresponding giggle made my eyes snap open. My uncle and his favourite employee gazed down at us, each with a mug of divine smelling coffee in their hand. I growled, "Give." Lisa handed over her mug, giggling again when I sat up and drank half the mug in one long gulp. Considerately allowing her to finish the coffee, I asked, "Are you here early, or did you never leave?"

Proving that Asian inscrutability was just another stereotype, a blush stole over my friend's face. Almond eyes flickered briefly to my uncle before meeting mine. "Morty asked me to come in early for a, uh, business breakfast, to, um, discuss a case." She tucked a strand of shoulder-length dark hair behind an ear; her expression dared me to comment.

Before I could begin to tease, Remus said huskily, "Good morning."

I tried not to let my expression show that his tone put a shiver down my spine, but from Lisa's knowing smile and Morty's smirk, I wasn't successful. Deciding that I didn't care, I looked over at the wrought iron table and chairs and asked, "What's for breakfast?"

My rascally uncle said, "Whatever you make or go get. That breakfast is for two." When I stuck out my tongue, he smiled evilly. "Really, it's good for you to get out and go buy your own."

He'd obviously been next door to Chocolat. Jan, susceptible to his dubious charm, had repeated what I'd said about him. How unfair. Sulking a bit, I told Remus, "Come on, let's go next door and get some fresh and warm croissants and leave them to their business breakfast."

With a chuckle, he stood in a fluid motion that I admired on many levels and pulled me to my feet. Passing the other couple, I crossed my eyes. Lisa laughed and brought two small items out of her trouser pocket. I grabbed them and handed one of the brushing/flossing mints to Remus before popping the other into my mouth. Loftily, I said, "Merci," and swept down the stairs, chewing away.

Once we were alone in the lower corridor, Remus smiled regretfully. "I've got to meet a client in an hour, or I'd gladly have breakfast with you."

A wicked smirk was his only warning before I pounced, pressing him against the wall. My lips a breath away from his, I murmured, "How about giving me something fresh and warm before you leave?"

I'd never kissed a smiling mouth before Remus's. It made me smile too as his lips parted for mine. The feeling of starting over fresh was exhilarating. Happily, I gave myself over to the kiss that warmed my blood and my heart.

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A/N: The jazz club in Chelsea is based on a real one that only has three numbers set in brick over the door to distinguish it. If you liked the use of jazz, or their first date, let me know in a review! Loads of thanks to those who reviewed last week! 40/16 Camilia Vincent Camilinha Carnivalgirl ChibiIceDemon cupcakeswirl ElspethBates Embellished Everlasting Daydream Flavagurl FNP Funnykido Godricgal GraceRichie Harry Clone heartdamoose homestar-fan ishandahalf JassXOXO Jedi Knight Padme kathaania NazgulGirl Nutsaboutremus Pheo Quicksilver Foxx Rachel Romulus901 sany slightly so Slipknot-3113 sunny9847 Super Kawaii Lamb The Demonic Duo