A/N: How exactly does the snout of a werewolf differ from that of a true wolf? Professor Snape never lets Hermione explain, so we'll never know. Pity.

Oh yeah, and the characters: don't belong to me. At all. Don't own them. Not a whit. In conclusion: not mine.

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Think of the time you watched Sirius slip Cockroach Cluster into your Mum's tea. Tonks gritted her teeth and squeezed herself still more tightly between the phone booth that marked the visitors' entrance to the Ministry and the cold brick wall of the alley. Think of the wonderful things you heard Scrimgeour saying about you when he thought you weren't listening. Mad-Eye had seen them coming before the rest of them had, and they had decided to wait out the attack instead of Disapparating; dementors in the Department of Mysteries would be interesting, to say the least. Think of the way you feel around the dinner table at the Burrow. Think of the thrill you got the first time you ever held your wand. Think of how Remus and Sirius…think of how Remus…think of Remus.

Tonks rolled her eyes at herself. Bloody Remus.

That's not a memory. That won't work. And it wouldn't. She had tried it privately already, and she hadn't even gotten silver vapour. The fact that Remus Lupin was the cause of a disproportionate amount of her happiness these days didn't seem to compensate for the fact that she had no real happy memories of him—or, more appropriately, of them. There was no them, she admitted ruefully to herself. They had never spent so much as a moment alone together, without Mad-Eye's gloomy predictions, Sirius' antics, and Snape's disapproving presence. And he's a distraction right now, she insisted. A distraction. Focus. They're coming. Focus. She closed her eyes.

And then she felt, rather than saw, Lupin move into position in front of her, and her knees went rather weaker than she liked them under pressure. Oh, hell.

"There," Mad-Eye hissed. "Wands out."

The three of them pulled out their wands as one. There were five dementors at the end of the alley, two more than Mad-Eye had been able to see from around the corner. Lupin's profile appeared calm, but Tonks could hear his breathing quicken. She felt her own heart speed up as well; whether for him or for them, she wasn't sure.

She was the first to move. She usually was. When they sensed her, the two in front moved forward, and the three behind followed suit. Neither Mad-Eye nor Lupin emerged; the plan had been to corner the dementors before using the Patronus. This plan, Tonks noted with the familiar feeling of alarm rising in her stomach, had seemed significantly wiser in the well-lit Ministry than it appeared right now.

"Go, Tonks," Lupin murmured.

Think of the time you did this and think of the time you saw that and go, Tonks, and think of Remus. "Expecto patronum." Her voice sounded weak even to her. Silver vapour was her only reward.

"Expecto patronum!" Mad-Eye bellowed; his hyena-shaped Patronus erupted from the end of his wand and galloped toward the dementor behind the other four; it withdrew almost immediately. Tonks remembered the first time the whole Order had seen Mad-Eye's Patronus; they'd taken the piss out of him for the rest of the evening. The nastiest, most vicious animal with a talent for holding grudges, Sirius had slagged him. Seems appropriate. In spite of herself, Tonks smiled. Think of the way Snape pretended he wasn't laughing, and think of the way Emmeline giggled until butterbeer came out of her nose, and think of the way Remus. And think of Remus.

Remus.

"Expecto patronum!"

But there was nothing, and now Lupin could see, could watch her fail to come up with what she needed, could watch her snap under pressure—the way the Department had always feared she would. Tonks squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to hear Mad-Eye's panicked, shouted commands, tried not to let it bother her that Lupin wasn't defending himself because he was worried about her. She heard the rattling breath and think of the way and felt one cold finger touch her chin and think of Remus and tried again.

"Expecto patronum!"

It was Lupin's voice, not her own. The air grew warmer around her and she felt them leave and she felt herself fall to the ground. Just before she blacked out, she wondered, dimly (and hated herself for wondering it), if he would catch her.