After Remus had met with or contacted the majority of the Order, Tonks was pleased to see that most seemed to view him as a sort of touchstone for the group. While she knew that he would never believe it, the unassuming man possessed a quiet air of authority that seemed to resonate with the others. She was fairly sure that McGonagall would be seen as the next leader, but she knew that it would be Remus assisting her in the tactical decisions. She had called a meeting for tomorrow evening at headquarters at 8pm and had placed him in charge, as she was still preoccupied with putting Hogwarts to rights. Tonks pondered the situation with her eyes half-closed, enjoying just being close to him.

These thoughts were eclipsed when Remus next spoke, however. By the warmth of Molly's fire, once again secure in the knowledge that Remus was alive and well, Tonks had been tempted not to spoil the moment by sharing her secret. He brought up the subject himself, though.

"I can't help but be curious about that comment you made to Molly earlier, Dora. I don't want to pry, but your patronus has changed?"

She squirmed uncomfortably. Harry had seen it, Molly knew about it. . . even Snape knew, the rotten bastard. "Strangest thing, Remus. I was on dementor detail a while back and, well, did you know that one's patronus isn't necessarily a fixed thing? I had always thought that it was sort of static, a reflection of your personality or something. Who knows, really? Anyway, well. . ." she stammered.

There was flicker of comprehension in his eyes. "It doesn't happen to be a wolf, does it?" he asked tentatively.

"Well, not exactly. . . more like. . . like a. . ."

"A werewolf," he finished for her.

"Spot on," she replied, somewhat relieved that the lesser of her secrets had been revealed first. It might mitigate the shock of the second revelation, if she were lucky.

"Well, I'm not quite sure what to think, Dora. On the one hand, this is really a fantastic avenue of research – I've never heard of a patronus morphing, though you are already a bit of a special case. On the other. . ."

"Now, don't go thinking it's some kind of unconscious manifestation of my need to have you protect me, because I'm quite capable of that myself, thank you." She felt herself getting a bit defensive. "And I hadn't told you before because I hadn't entirely realized what had happened until just before Siri. . . my accident. By then, it was too late to bring it up; you were already gone. And I was sitting here trying to think of ways to tell you about becoming an animagus. . ." Bugger. The cat was out of the bag. Why did she have to be such an idiot around him?

"Do go on, I'm listening." He eyed her a little apprehensively, and she closed her eyes for a moment. He was still holding her hand and squeezed it a little in encouragement.

"Promise not to freak out?"

"I don't think I'm capable of it."

"You're sure?"

"Now you're beginning to scare me. Out with it."

"Not here. When everyone has gone to bed." They were staying the night at the Burrow, per Molly's orders, and had been assigned to the living room – the second-most high traffic area of the busy home. Tonks preferred not to share her secret with everyone; even one or two people knowing could be too many for her safety. They quietly sipped tea and played an unenthusiastic game of wizarding chess until well after ten o'clock and the last voices had ceased. Remus insisted on placing an engorging charm on the sofa so that neither of them would have to sleep on the camp cot. They were both tucked under the fluffy duvet with the candles extinguished before she had the nerve to broach the subject. He listened to her explain her involvement with the ministry program without commenting, for which she was rather thankful.

When she was done, he exhaled slowly. "Have you tried again since then?"

"No, I decided to wait for you to come back."

"So, I'm back, right?"

She concentrated for a moment and soon, Remus's hand was resting on warm fur instead of smooth skin. He inhaled deeply and the wolf in him stirred with desire. This close to transformation, his sense of smell was already heightened. He recognized the smell of receptive female and ached to possess her. "Dora," he whispered hoarsely, "that's enough."

In moments, he felt the firmness of her arm beneath his hand again and he swallowed hard. She crushed her lips to his, acutely aware of the longing he felt. The intensity of her hunger for him as a wolf was nearly unbearable and she had the oddly pleasant feeling that she had lost all control. She felt him trembling as he skimmed the length of her body with his palm. She succeeded in unbuttoning enough of his pyjama top that she could greedily kiss the contours of his neck and throat. He moaned and suddenly pulled her tight against his chest.

"Not here, Dora."

She understood. "I feel like a teenager, worried that my mother will walk in on us," she whispered.

"You make me feel like a teenager, Dora. I'm half my age when I'm with you, awkward, a little self-conscious maybe. But I feel alive."

Moments later, they heard soft footsteps on the stairs.