Sequel to Caught and second in the Transfigured Hearts series, this story is set during the autumn of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. As always, many thanks to Godricgal for her fantastic beta work.

Think Too Much

From where Remus sat, the date seemed to be going as well as it possibly could.

In fact, it was going far better than he'd hoped.

Tonks was crying.

Considering that her reaction to what he'd just told her, and what he'd shown himself to be, might have been to tell him he could forget about a second date, much less a tenth or a twentieth, crying undoubtedly exceeded expectations.

And it wasn't just watery eyes and a sniffle or two. Not even merely shedding a stray tear. No -- on the picnic blanket, in the in the midst of crumb-covered china plates, half-empty wine goblets, silver candlesticks holding low-burning candles, hand painted porcelain bud vases containing deep red roses that had already begun to wilt, Nymphadora Tonks, Auror for the Ministry of Magic, lay doubled over, slight, slender frame quaking with deep sobs.

Remus couldn't help but grin as he inched nearer to her, moving aside the remnants of their picnic supper -- which, given the glow of delight that had washed over her features when he'd opened the basket and the fare he'd borrowed from Sirius' house spread itself out elegantly beneath a sprawling oak tree, and the way she'd exclaimed over and over as they ate, 'You really did all this yourself?' he was fairly confident she'd enjoyed it immensely. He almost didn't mind that he hadn't the means to take her out for a properdinner date.

As he leant back on his elbows, her ginger coloured fringe brushed his forearm. Despite the warmth of the August evening, a shiver rippled up his arm, through his shoulder, and down his spine, to feel the softness of her hair against his skin. He wasn't sure if it was because she noticed the touch, as well, but one of Tonks' hands suddenly shot out and gripped his knee and her tear and mascara streaked face was turned up to him.

"Remus!" she puffed. "You didn't…encourage…him to imagine…Snape--" Cutting herself off with a snort of laughter; her hand fell away from his knee as she collapsed, once again, into peals of mirth.

"Yes," Remus replied, even though he wasn't sure whether, in the state she was in, she could hear him. "When Neville invoked the Riddikulus charm, the boggart posing as Snape suddenly sported old Mrs. Longbottom's stuffed vulture hat and garish red handbag."

At the sight of her small hands clutching her stomach whilst fat tears squeezed out from between long, clumped dark eyelashes, Remus laughed along with her. Though this was one of his personal favourite stories, this time the story had nothing, whatsoever to do with his amusement. In fact, he was quite sure it hadn't anything to do with amusement at all, but instead was absolutely certain that the source of his delight was Tonks' unabashed glee. He'd forgotten the exhilaration of another person being completely unguarded with him. Not that Tonks wasn't always herself no matter who she was with. But he'd noticed the way she would sometimes laugh too loudly at an Order gathering, and then abruptly stop, face flushing, or make an awkward joke or break something or trip...It wasn't lost on Remus that now, with him, see seemed to have no fear of making social missteps.

Well -- apparently she wasn't entirely fearless.

At that moment, she did stop laughing, pushed up on one elbow, and swiped her fingertips across her cheeks, under her eyes. Her eyebrows slanted sharply as she scrutinised her finger and found them blackened with her runny makeup.

"Ugh," she said, with a shudder, which might have been from still trying to catch her breath, except for her next words. "I must look a right mess."

Remus reached into the breast pocket of his shirt, drew out a crisp white handkerchief. Dabbing at Tonks' tear-streaked cheeks, the tips of his fingers brushed her skin. She gave him a small smile which he took to be one of gratitude, though out the corner of his eye he noticed her chest rise as she inhaled suddenly and deeply. At first he thought his touch might be affecting her the way that little brush of her hair had him, which made his pulse quicken. When she bit her lower lip self-consciously, however, it occurred to him that drawing attention to your date's makeup problem hardly sent the message that messy was the furthest description from your mind.

Smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring, and maybe slightly flirtatious, way -- though that might have been a bit too tall an order for a wizard as out of practice at this as he -- Remus said softly, "Not at all."

Tonks' smile widened and he, pleased at having so easily side-stepping a potential blunder, rewarded himself by letting his thumb brush her cheek a little more obviously as he dabbed at the mascara trails.

Somehow, even as he thrilled inwardly at each light touch, Remus managed to ponder his graceful white lie. He supposed that technically there was nothing attractive about eyes that were bloodshot and puffy from crying, or a face that resembled a Valentine heart because its owner had laughed herself breathless, but he didn't care about technicalities. All that he noticed was the brilliance of her dark eyes and her red, shiny lips parted in a wide smile.

Well -- her eyes and smile definitely were captivating, but he'd paid quite a lot of attention to her clothes, as well. A girl's makeup didn't matter much, did it? Not when delightfully lithe, pale limbs were bared by a little yellow sundress with a pattern of cherries, and a red ribbon round the high waistline was working to the advantage of her figure. Her toenail polish, which he could see through her translucent jelly shoes, matched that red trim exactly; she even had coordinating cherry earrings and necklace that nestled...well, deliciously was the only word for it...in the hollow of her throat.

Tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket, heat prickled up from within Remus' collar which, as his Adam's apple bobbed with a rather painful swallow, suddenly seemed too tight. One hand tugged at the knot of his tie, while the fingers of the other worked through the hair at his nape.

"It was an effective lesson on defence against Boggarts," he said, voice sounding a bit constricted.

He gave in and undid the top button of his shirt, and loosened the tie. Hopefully Tonks thought he was simply too warm, instead of hot and bothered. For the life of him, he couldn't fathom why he'd gone to the trouble of putting on a tie. It was overdressing for a picnic, he'd known that when he put it on. But his white shirt had just seemed so dingy -- and the mirror in his room at Grimmauld had told him as much, in far less generous words -- that he'd thought perhaps a tie would improve it...

Then she'd answered the door in that dress, with a little white jean jacket over it and he'd thought she'd looked so young and casual and vibrant, what in the name of Godric Gryffindor was she doing going out with a fellow like him who looked stuffy and boring in a bloody tie? Which was one reason he'd been keen to share his boggart anecdote, and thus prove himself young at heart, if not in fashion. Maybe he ought to give into the very juvenile urge he'd been fighting since she'd wriggled out of her jacket and revealed that the flimsy cotton dress was held up by extremely narrow straps that tied over her shoulders, and tug one of the bead-trimmed ends loose so he could have a better look at the cute smattering of freckles across her pale shoulders.

"Oh, I don't doubt it," said Tonks, somewhat collected now, having got control of her giggles; except that a smile played at the corner of her lips as her eyes darted down to his neck. "No wonder you're the favourite DADA teacher ever."

Sitting up, propping his elbows on his knees, Remus glanced downward. He noted that the end of his tie burgundy and blue-striped tie was ever so slightly frayed and, as it hung to one side, that the buttons of his shirt were mismatched. But he found he wasn't at all worried about whether Tonks had noticed, because the word favourite hummed so pleasantly through him.

During his tenure at Hogwarts, Remus had not been unaware that most of his students -- even a number of Slytherins, despite their cutting remarks about his shabby state of dress -- liked him. And he knew it wasn't just that he wanted them to like him, and so he perceived it as such; his fellow professors, Dumbledore, and most recently, Molly and Arthur Weasley, had told him how obvious it was that a great deal of his success was down to the fact that the students liked him. And to know that Tonks knew it -- not just because she'd heard people say, but because she'd inferred it from his story...

She pushed up on one elbow and cocked her head slightly to one side so that a few strands of orange fringe fell into her eyes. Her index finger pressed against her lips, as if to forcibly hold back a comment. Which, for some reason, made Remus grin, and colour a little, with expectation. Especially since her gaze kept flickering down to the open neck of his shirt.

Her hand moved away from her mouth, and twinkling dark eyes peered at him through her hair. "I reckon all the girls had crushes on Professor Lupin."

The instant the words left her mouth, her face went very red. The deepening warmth in Remus' own face told him that he matched. Yet it was the pleasant sort of flush, because he had an odd sense that Tonks wouldn't mind if he confessed to having received a number of Valentine cards and chocolates that year signed, With love, from your secret admirer. And indeed, he had a sense that she might find it attractive. It wasn't the first time anyone had suggested it, either. Fifth year, Lily had accused him of being biased in his prefect duties, because he couldn't bear to hand out detention to first and second years he suspected had crushes on him; but in the same breath, she confessed that her girlfriends all thought there was something endearing about Lupin's Little Harem.

Before he could say anything, however, Tonks' smile faded -- not disappearing completely, but becoming...wistful.

"Shame you couldn't go on teaching," she said. "Professors like you don't come along every day."

Remus felt his own smile falter. He forced himself not to allow it to vanish completely. He did appreciate her sentiment, and it wasn't that he disliked talking about the Hogwarts job. He hoped, however, that Tonks wouldn't cross further into the realm of regret, and would instead keep to the bits he could reminisce about happily.

Unfortunately, she pushed up on her palm to sit more upright, and her eyes became hard as she said, vehemently, "I mean really -- if you had kids at Hogwarts, wouldn't you feel a lot better about a werewolf with a clean record teaching them than a convicted Death Eater disguised as an Auror?"

Except that he'd tarnished his record by forgetting his Wolfsbane Potion that night.

And before that, and in an even worse way, by the lie of omission to Dumbledore.

Remus swallowed, throat burning with a bitter taste as everything Tonks had said to elate him and inflate his ego, sank sickeningly to the pit of his stomach. He may well have been the most popular, even the most effective, Defence teacher in recent Hogwarts history -- but what did any of that matter when he'd failed them -- Dumbledore, the students...Harry -- so miserably? With Voldemort's power mounting every day, they needed a good Defence professor now more than ever...

He deserved no one's pity.

Which, to his chagrin, seemed to be where Tonks' was heading with this line of thought, for his state of unemployment. That Umbridge legislation never would have come into effect if not for his own foolishness.

"Remus?"

Her voice and light touch on his hand -- which he realised he'd balled into a fist on his knee -- made him flinch. He glanced down at Tonks' slim fingers just as she pulled it sharply away, then looked up into her face, which was imploring -- for just a moment, and then her eyes dropped to her lap and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Merlin, it was that look of painful embarrassment, and he had put it there.

Silently cursing himself, Remus reached for her hand, an apology on the tip of his tongue. Before he could make his vocal chords produce a sound, another female voice, from a fair way off, called: "Nymphadora?"

While Tonks cringed, Remus looked frantically around the park for the person who'd recognised her. He'd chosen this park because, despite its proximity to St. Mungo's Hospital, because it was Muggle. The Wizarding community was so small, and Tonks had a high profile because of her position, and Remus was notorious because of the Hogwarts scandal. It seemed only fair that they had at least one chance to test the waters of a more-than-platonic relationship alone, without encountering acquaintances who might question what in Merlin's name someone like her was doing out with the likes of him.

And not because he'd exhibited a bit of a deviant streak by turning a boggart into Snape-in-drag.

"Nymphadora Tonks?" came the voice again, nearer now. At the same time, the couple saw, striding toward them, dressed in decidedly non-Muggle lime green Healer robes, Poppy Pomfrey.

Damn.

Remus' fingers flexed open and closed as he turned away, hopefully before he was recognised. Of all people...Why did it have to be Madam Pomfrey? He hadn't seen her since his resignation from Hogwarts, and in fact had dreaded meeting her.

Because she had always known about his condition, Remus felt a special closeness to the school's matron; he felt as if she, too, held a special place for him in her heart, one that didn't include pity. He would never forget the genuine joy she'd expressed to him that he'd been given the Defence position, and that his transformations would be eased by the Wolfsbane Potion; it had almost filled the ache he felt inside that his parents were not alive to witness the change in his fortune, which they'd always fought for. Surely, therefore, Madam Pomfrey's disappointment in him for not being a better steward of those opportunities must be as great?

Tonks, on the other hand, leapt to her feet. "Of course it's me!" Not bothering to put on her sandals, she ran barefoot across the lawn to meet her. In spite of his frustration, Remus smiled a little at her girlish vivacity -- and the way her skirt swirled up above her knees as she ran. "Do you know another witch with such a ridiculous name?"

"You dear thing," said Madam Pomfrey, embracing Tonks warmly. Much to Remus' relief, Tonks stood so that Madam Pomfrey's back was to him and the picnic. "I've been meaning to owl you. Auror for the Ministry of Magic! Congratulations! I always knew you'd go places."

"You mean besides flat on my face on the ground, and to the Hogwarts infirmary?"

Madam Pomfrey chuckled. "When I read the story in the Daily Prophet, I did wonder if Stealth and Tracking gave you any trouble."

Over the Healer's shoulder, Tonks winked at Remus -- no doubt thinking of the plate-breaking incident at the Dursleys. The knot in his stomach loosened somewhat at the private joke, and watching her interact with the older witch, seeing the rapport between them, took the edge off his nerves, as well. Perhaps the happy atmosphere Tonks created in her artless, effortless way would make Madam Pomfrey look on him more judiciously -- once she finally noticed him.

Returning her attention to the matron, Tonks affected a pout, though her dancing eyes belied her. "You don't think I've outgrown tripping over my own two feet?"

"You'll never outgrow that, dear, even if you are old enough to be an Auror and go out with…" Madam Pomfrey turned and stepped around Tonks, obviously wanting to see her companion. When she set eyes on him, she gaped for a moment. "Remus Lupin?"

He raised his hand in a sheepish wave as he slowly got to his feet, trying, but failing, not to hold his breath in anticipation of her reaction.

"I didn't…" Madam Pomfrey's gaze darted back and forth between Remus and Tonks. "I wasn't aware you two…knew each other."

Remus felt his lips twitch upward in what he could only suppose was a reflexive polite smile, though the nauseous sensation in his stomach made it seem impossible that he could produce a pleasant expression. Madam Pomfrey had picked up on precisely what he'd hoped to avoid by bringing Tonks to a non-Wizarding locale: that he was the last person on earth she could be expected to be seen with.

At least he could be glad that Tonks seemed completely unfazed by this as she explained that they'd met through mutual acquaintances.

But it wasn't covering for the Order that troubled him; it was the implication that he and Tonks shouldn't know one another.

Because of who she was.

Because of what he was.

True to form, however, Madam Pomfrey didn't probe for more information, and in fact startled Remus when she turned to him with a concerned face, caught his hand, and pumped it. "You are greatly missed at Hogwarts, Remus. I can't remember the last time we had a Defence Against Dark Arts professor the students liked, much less learned from."

Despite her sincerity, Remus couldn't help but think, in light of his earlier self-flagellating thoughts, that a tinge of reproach underscored her words. Hogwarts needed him.

Harry needed him.

And then the ground seemed to plummet from under his feet when she stepped a little nearer to him and said, "I've thought of you a great deal, Remus, with all these horrible laws being passed, but I assume since you haven't written or popped in for a visit, you're keeping busy?"

Reeling inwardly, Remus felt as if Tonks had saved him from plunging to the ground with a Wingardium Leviosa just at the nick of time when her arm slipped through his, and the swell of her hip, the curve of her waist, pressed against his side.

"Very," she said. "But lucky for me, he found a few spare minutes to take me out."

For a moment, Madam Pomfrey stared at them with round eyes and a smile so wide Remus was sure she must be holding back astonishment. Except that the whisper at the back of his mind that his parents would be very happy to see him with this young witch's arms around him, also hinted that the Healer, surprised though she might be, was happy for him, as well.

Ridiculous. She might wish him happy, but if she knew the truth about his employment status, she'd wish for poor Tonks to find a more suitable man to go out with.

"Well," said Madam Pomfrey, smiling more naturally now, "I won't interrupt your picnic any longer."

Not to worry, Remus thought. The picnic's over. Reminding himself that he liked the Healer very much, and that it was not her, but his own impossible dreams that had led to this bitterly disappointing end, he mustered sincerity.

"It was lovely to see you, Madam Pomfrey."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" She shook her head. "It's Poppy. I may be old as Merlin, but we're both adults."

"He's got a horrible habit of not calling you what you ask him to," Tonks chirped, squeezing his arm and looking up at him with a gleam in her eyes and a cheeky half-grin Remus would, under normal circumstances, have found impossible not to return with a quip of his own. Now, however, it made his throat constrict as he swallowed.

The date had been going so well. That hadn't been his imagination. Why had reality felt the need to barge in and rear its ugly head before he'd kissed her goodnight? If it was only to be this one date with Tonks, instead of ten or twenty, or even two or three, was it so much for him to ask that the doubts not come till afterward? At least that way they could say, 'Dinner was fun, but let's stick to covert Order operations, okay?' and have a hope of salvaging their camaraderie instead having it spoiled by the embarrassment this surely would cause both of them.

His thoughts were drawn back out by Madam Pomfrey's voice, in the midst of reminiscing about some or other of Tonks' school exploits. "I didn't ask at the time, but how did you and Sam Abbott manage to break your noses at the Halloween feast?"

Going faintly pink in the face, Tonks said, "It involved a broom cupboard and the non-cleaning activities students get up to in them."

"A kissing accident!" Madam Pomfrey hooted with laughter. "You wouldn't believe how many of those I've treated. No broken noses, though, except for you and Sam. Leave it to you, Nymphadora Tonks."

"Leave it to me," Tonks agreed. "But let's skip the details, shall we? It's not a very good story for my first date with another wizard, and Remus' is probably thinking of Disapparating to save his nose."

He wondered what she'd think of the fact that he was more likely to Disapparate to keep from hearing Madam Pomfrey say, 'You know the Abbotts, Remus -- you taught Sam's little sister, Hannah,' reminding Tonks that the sort of bloke she ought to be seeing were the ones her own age, with whom she shared memories of adolescent snogs-gone-wrong, and that she really shouldn't bother trying to preserve the feelings of the wizard she thought expected kisses.

It wasn't till that moment that he realised how much he wanted to kiss Tonks. All evening the thought had been at the back of his mind, as he'd noticed the smooth white temple where her orange hair was swept back from it in a red barrette...her high cheekbone...her full lips, the delicate valley he wanted to cradle his mouth instead of that plastic cherry necklace...to taste her...to discover whether that slightly spicy orange blossom scent that suited her so wonderfully was actually her...

Why hadn't he kissed her the other night, after he'd asked her out? She would have let him...She'd wanted him to...

He shut his eyes against the memory of her upturned face, bathed in moonlight, dark eyes a sky for miniature stars.

When Madam Pomfrey at last made good on her intention to go, Remus found it impossible to look at Tonks without tasting bitterness at how their date had turned out. He turned away from her, and began to pack away the picnic things

"You're not ready to go, are you?" she asked.

With his back to her, it was very easy for Remus to convince himself that the hitch in her voice was not down to confusion, but rather, the struggle to hide relief.

"I thought it was about time," he replied quietly, whisking the picnic blanket from the ground.

Wordlessly, Tonks approached, took one end, and brought it toward him. When they met in the middle, Tonks held on to the blanket, not letting him pull it away, "Is it all right if we walk back to mine? I'm not quite ready for tonight to end."

For a moment, Remus wondered whether it were possible that Tonks didn't share his view that the date had been a failure, but then he convinced himself that it wasn't. She was just being nice, making a show of carrying this date to a normal end. He appreciated her kindness, but he would have preferred honesty, and to get this over with as quickly as possible -- like taking his Wolfsbane Potion. Not that he'd ever managed gulp it down...disgusting stuff...

He heard his voice agree to Tonks' request, but he set a quick pace, and they didn't speak as they hurried along. It wasn't a pleasant silence like the ones they'd lapsed into earlier that evening. Once or twice he darted his eyes down to Tonks, only to avert his gaze when he found her staring up at him. He thought he glimpsed a little crinkle between her dark eyebrows, as if she were perplexed by his action, but he told himself that to interpret her silence as anything other than awkwardness was just wishful thinking again. Silence wasn't her style, for one thing. She was clever enough to read him, and if she had felt differently about the date, she'd have interrogated him about what he thought had gone wrong, apologising profusely if she thought she might have any blame. She was a perfectionist.

And he'd learnt long ago that he could no more afford to think wishfully than he could afford to take a woman he fancied out to dinner.

Which made him berate himself all the more harshly for ignoring the voice that had told him this was a bad idea, he wasn't date material. How could he have expected this to turn out any other way? And why hadn't he considered what failure would do to their professional relationship? Awkward didn't go far enough to describe how it felt to walk beside her now. How were they supposed to work together, with this hanging between them? He ought to have played the responsible senior Order member, and considered the likely outcome. Merlin, he'd mucked things up.

And he almost mucked up catching her, so startled he was when Tonks suddenly tripped and caught his arm.

"Bloody cracks," she muttered, pulling herself upright.

Throwing a backward glance over his shoulder, Remus saw nothing out of order with the pavement. But he nearly tripped over the quite-in-order pavement when it dawned on him a moment later that, having regained her balance, Tonks had neglected to release his arm. In fact, as they continued on their way, she brought her other hand to rest in the crook of his elbow, and sidled closer against his side. An action to which Remus, for all his skill at explaining signals away, couldn't attach any other meaning than affection.

And so he found their pace slowing as hope flickered to life once more. Maybe he'd read her all wrong...

Except there still remained the matter of her uncharacteristic, and unaccountable, silence. When Tonks had sensed he wanted to ask her out, she'd approached him about it. She had asked to walk home, but she'd done so without her usual frank demeanour.

By the time they reached her flat, Remus had all but snuffed out that little flare of hope. When Tonks released his arm, fumbled in her straw handbag for her wand, and waved it to unlock the door, he braced himself for the cold as it extinguished completely.

The small click of the deadbolt could be heard within the door, and then it swung open.

Tonks, however, made no move to go inside.

Instead, she tucked her wand away, then turned to Remus, leaning against the doorjamb, a slight smile playing about the edges of her red mouth. She looked...

...expectant.

Remus swallowed hard. How he wanted to believe that look meant she wanted him to kiss her -- but the degree to which he wanted it held him back. To know how her lips felt against his, to taste her, would make it all the worse if it wasn't what she wanted. Or even if she did want it, but then they decided not to pursue romance, it would be torture to know what it was to kiss her, yet neverdo it again.

Even as he wavered, Remus felt his hand twitch to reach up, push that errand lock of gingery fringe back from her face, to let his fingers rake through her soft, shiny tresses, that were the same brilliant golden orange as the sinking sun...to stroke her soft, feminine skin...to cup her heart-shaped face in his hands...

"Well." He shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets. "I ought to say good night."

"How?"

A single, thudding heartbeat. Stupidly, he repeated, "How?"

"Are you going to say goodnight, or are you going to…" Tonks' dark eyes dropped, and she caught her lip between her teeth. "...kiss me goodnight?"

Wrong-footed by the realisation that not only that he'd been completely wrong to presume to know Tonks' thoughts and feelings, but also at his foolish failure to see that she, for all her youthful recklessness and vibrant colour, contained as much capacity for insecurity as he, Remus' shoulder met with the sharp edge of the doorframe as he backed into it.

"You want me to kiss you?"

Tonks looked up at him through her hair, a half-shy smile on her lips. "Yeah. I do."

He started to move toward her, but froze when her expression abruptly shifted to that nervous one, and her fingers clutched almost frantically at the door jamb behind her.

"Unless...you'd rather wait till the second date?"

For the first time in his life, without ever having played a game of Quidditch, Remus was sure he had a pretty good idea what felt like to get hit with a Bludger as Tonks' words winded him as surely as if they'd struck him in the chest.

Or rather, one word impacted:

The.

They hadn't finished this date, and Tonks wasn't thinking of a second, but the second. It was a given.

As suddenly as it had been snatched away, breath returned to Remus, rapid, shallow bursts of air that made every cell and fibre within him thrum and surge into motion. The careening course they set through his body was vaguely familiar, and he fleetingly thought he'd been sent back in time to when Padfoot and Prongs literally pushed him up to a girl and made him ask her to go to Hogsmeade. She'd said yes, and he'd been at once elated and besieged by anxiety -- just as he was now. Where would he take Tonks for the second date? What could he do to make it live up to her expectations? How could he make the third date a given?

None of that mattered right now, his brain said, so remarkably unrattled that Remus wondered if it had been his brain talking at all, or Sirius, as he had so many years ago, stage whispering, 'She wants you to kiss her, you great sodding prat.'

Yes, it was Remus' own brain. And yes, Tonks did want him to kiss her. She'd asked him to. He'd asked if she wanted him to. That was what had brought up second dates. Those lovely dark eyes were turned up to him, her full red mouth open ever so slightly to reveal the tip of her tongue resting behind her teeth...

Not wanting to wait another second, much less till they could find the time in their hectic schedules to go on a second date, Remus reached out his hand and, brushing orange hair back from her face, pressed his lips to hers.

And Merlin... He wasn't sure what held greater responsibility for the rush of blood from his head: whether the adorable way she gasped in surprise as their mouths met, even though she'd asked him to do this; or how he felt her slide down against the door frame, as if he'd struck her with a Jelly-legs Jinx, before her hands flew up to touch his face as she returned his kiss with sweet enthusiasm. But he did know that he wanted to kiss her a second time...and a third...and a tenth...and a twentieth.

She gave him the sensation that he'd just tasted the sun and had it swell warmly in his heart and beam throughout each millimetre of his body, chasing away every scarp of dark cloud that had billowed in the corners of his mind. The orange blossom scent on her wrist as she slid her fingers into his hair, was so invigorating that he felt young and fresh as her.

Why on earth had he thought anyone would think they shouldn't know each other? Surely it was obvious how right it was for them to kiss. His splayed hand perfectly spanned the small of her back; her fingers curled over the loosened knot of his necktie, knuckles pressing gently against the hollow of his throat; all she had to do was turn her face up to his as he looked down at her, and their mouths met.

No, there could never be enough opportunities to kiss Nymphadora Tonks...twenty dates would never be nearly enough...

"You want to go out with me again?" Remus murmured the question against her lips, kissing her once again, lingeringly, before he pulled back just enough that he could look into her eyes as he held her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to his. The other hand drifted up from the small of her back, fingers skimming under the edge of her jean jacket to stroke the warm skin bared by the low-backed dress. "You had a good time, with me, tonight?"

"It was perfect, from start to finish," Tonks' replied, and Remus had to kiss her again.

Her hand slipped down from playing with his tie, to lightly press against his chest. When he pulled back again, he saw her eyebrows were knit together. "You nicked Black family china for a picnic supper, and told me about your deviant DADA lessons? How could you think I didn't have a lovely time?"

Though he was loath to reveal the extend of his idiotic insecurity, Remus couldn't bear to let Tonks think she had sent the wrong messages. Drawing a deep breath, he admitted, "Poppy."

Tonks' mouth hung agape. She blinked. "Poppy?"

Feeling increasingly foolish for the way he'd let his thoughts run away with him, Remus' hands fell away from Tonks. He looked over the top of her head as he blurted, "She was clearly shocked to learn you were on a date with me."

"Oh," said Tonks. "I see."

As though she'd summoned his gaze, Remus looked down at her again. "Do you?"

For a moment, she studied him so intently that he was almost afraid her keenly observant Auror eyes might read the self-doubt that had stampeded through his mind earlier, which now seemed so irrelevant. She could be a Legilimens, for all he knew...

But Tonks only smiled and shook her head slightly."Poppy was surprised, not appalled, Remus. You can't deny we are sort of an odd pair. Who'd have thought Professor Remus J. Lupin would be attracted to a clumsy Auror with hair like a Muggle punk?"

Remus' hands went around her slim waist once again as he once again acted on impulse and kissed her forehead, blessing her for being sensitive enough -- if, perhaps, a bit naïve -- to suggest that, to the casual observer, he -- prematurely grey, patched, werewolf --might look like the normal one of the pair.

Their soft, laughter mingling in the still, summer twilight, Remus smiled sighed as Tonks brushed his fringe back from his forehead. He looked upward and saw the silvery strands of his hair curled around her slender finger, so striking against the red of her nail polish.

"You think too much, Remus," she whispered

He caught her hand, his fingers caressing her rough, but gentle, ones. He heard the hitch of her breath, and her eyes darkened. The knowledge that his touch could have that effect on her was even more satisfying than the elation he'd felt at making her laugh.

She fancied him.

"I know I already kissed you goodnight," Remus said, "but does that mean I've got say it now?"

"What do you think?"

He pulled her snugly against him, and deposited her hand on his shoulder. Seeking her mouth once more with his own, absorbing himself in the in the sensation of Tonks, he quickly ceased to think at all.

The End

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read. I'd love to know what you think, so as special incentive to review, I offer all who comment a date with their Remus of choice: romantic Remus, who turns up at your front door with a bouquet; humorous Remus, who relates Marauder anecdote after Marauder anecdote and doesn't care that you've cried your eye makeup off; or shy-but-sexy Remus, who's only too happy to stay a while at your place once you've reassured him with kisses that you had a good time.