Part Three

"So," said Tonks, "is your mood improving, or do I need to cast a cheering charm on you?"

Beside her on the settee, Remus gaped, fork suspended part way to his mouth. "Haven't I been cheerful?"

Tonks took a bite of her own cake, but did not finish chewing before she said, "When I opened my door, you were standing there looking like you'd got Trolls on all your OWLs."

At the comment, Remus' mind took him back nearly two years to the third year students' Defence Against Dark Arts examination, during which Hermione Granger's boggart appeared as Professor McGonagall and told the girl she had failed everything. He laughed aloud, startling Tonks so that she nearly upset her plate.

"Have you gone mad?" she asked, looking like she really thought he had.

"Sorry," said Remus, still chuckling as he recalled the sheer horror on Hermione's face. How difficult it had been to restrain his laughter until after the test, when he was ensconced in the privacy of his office. "I just remembered a highly amusing incident from my year teaching at Hogwarts."

"Care to share?"

"I'd love to, but I fear it would be in violation of student-professor confidentiality."

A pouty expression flitted across Tonks' face, and she was so cute that Remus nearly threw confidentiality to the wind. Thankfully for his conscience, she waved her fork airily and said, "Keep your secrets, then, as long as they put you in a good mood."

"I'm in a good mood, really," Remus assured her. "I apologise if I did not seem to be when I arrived." Leaning his head against hers, he sighed heavily. "It has been a long week, and just before I came over Sirius was moping again."

"I thought the pair of you made up?" Tonks had owled him the day after the Order meeting to check up on the situation between them.

"We did." Remus straightened up and ate the bite of cake he had abandoned. "But you know how men make up. "

"Not really."

Remus took a long drink of Molly's elderflower wine as he contemplated the sexes. Really now, Tonks might not have a good deal of first-hand knowledge of how male friends worked out their problems, but surely she knew him and Sirius well enough by now not to have expected them to have a great conversation.

"When Sirius came down to breakfast," he said, "I told him he was so out of line that if the Order had not been present, I would have hit him."

"Would you have done?" Tonks' eyes were wide.

Shrugging, Remus finished off his cake. "He said I could do it then if I wanted, to which I replied that it was too close to full moon for me to manage a good punch, so he offered to let me hex him instead."

"But I assume you didn't?" Tonks asked as Remus drank.

"I wasn't in the mood anymore."

"And that was it?"

"And that was it." Remus set his empty plate and goblet on the coffee table. "Sirius went back to brooding about other things."

"Snape?"

"He han't been very talkative. Except right before I left to come here, he acted rather envious that I had someplace to go tonight."

"We should've done this at number twelve," said Tonks in guilty tones, forehead crinkling as she frowned. "He feels left out. D'you reckon we should go over in a bit?"

Stretching his arm across the back of the settee, Remus said with as much tact as he could muster, "I think it's more that he envies me having a girl to be with."

"In which case he'd only feel like a third Beater if we were around?"

"I asked if he would like us to stay with him, and he told me rather crossly I'd better take advantage of my opportunity to snog."

Tonks gave a snort of laughter. "Your words, or his?"

"His."

It was an emendation; Sirius had actually told him to take advantage of the opportunity to shag. Tonks, however, did not need to know that, especially as Remus had no desire to explain to her why he had not set Sirius straight about where they were in their physical relationship. If Sirius knew they had not taken that step, Remus would never hear the end of it.

"Well, don't worry about Sirius for now," said Tonks. "Here." She scooped a bit of cake onto her fork and brought it to his mouth. "You need more chocolate."

Remus dutifully chewed and swallowed, and although the idea of being fed by Tonks was delicious, his stomach, having digested two large pieces and a sliver of a third, protested.

"I've had quite enough cake tonight," he said, "and I promise, my spirits are buoyed."

Tonks eyed him sceptically as she set her plate on top of his. The look made Remus suddenly suspicious of her concern about his happiness. But that was ridiculous. Of course she wanted him to be in a good mood. It was his birthday. And for her part, she had put up with more than her fair share of grouchiness three nights ago.

Drawing her legs onto the settee and tucking them underneath her, Tonks curled into the crook of his arm. "I read a Muggle magazine once that said chocolate's got something in it that causes a sense of euphoria. Endorsements? Endocrines?"

"Endorphins," Remus corrected, chuckling.

Colouring slightly, Tonks said, "I sound a bit like Arthur, don't I?"

"How do Muggles light their homes?"

Quickly morphing to look like a member of the Weasley family, Tonks replied, "Eckeltricity."

She changed back to herself, and they laughed much longer over the joke than it really merited. They were overdue for a bit of silliness. It felt good and refreshing, energising even, to laugh.

"Is it true about the endorphins?" Tonks asked as their mirth trailed away. "Or is it something magical the Muggles have got hold of?"

"I really could not tell you," Remus replied, "but if anything is the cause of my present euphoria…" He slid his other arm across to embrace her "…it's you."

Tonks' expression softened into a romantic one. "And we haven't even snogged yet."

"Shall we commence?" He nuzzled her soft cheek.

Tonks touched her lips to his for a fraction of a second, then disentangled herself from his arms. She staggered to her feet, snatched her wand from the side table, and waved it in the direction of the open door of her bedroom. "Accio cauldron."

"Cauldron?" Remus blinked as a black metal pot floated through the door and over his head. "Why, in Merlin's name, are you summoning a cauldron?"

He understood as the iron weight settled in his lap, a blue ribbon tied around it; his earlier suspicion about why Tonks was so concerned about his mood suddenly made sense.

"Tonks," he said slowly, clinging to the vestiges of his good feelings, "we agreed—"

"This isn't a present," she interrupted. "It's my stuff. I just want to show you."

Glancing inside, he noted various bags and bottles and phials. "Why can't potion ingredients wait until after—?"

"See what they are." She nodded to the cauldron.

Remus did, but being rubbish with potions, he had no idea what they were for until he drew out the last phial, labelled Wolfsbane.

"Tonks, what…?"

"I'm going to brew it for you," she said.

His heart turned to lead and dropped into his stomach. Snape had twitted Tonks about not being useful to her boyfriend, and in turn she joked that, in light of her paperwork, she would rather be a potion brewer than an Auror. Could Snape have got to her? Did she really think Remus needed her to do something for him? Why had he complained about his inferior Wolfsbane Potion? He should have known Tonks would be dissatisfied with that. He could not let her do this. She did not realise what brewing this potion entailed. But how could he tell her? She watched him intently, wide-eyed and managing to look simultaneously pleased with herself and anxious about his reaction.

"This is a beautiful gesture, sweetheart," he said honestly, setting aside the cauldron and leaning forward to take her hands, "but if licensed apothecaries cannot even brew it properly—"

"But remember, Remus," she said, "Severus says none of them could pass his NEWT class. I did."

"As one who scraped a Dreadful on my OWLs after five years with Horace Slughorn – who I imagine was nowhere near as demanding as Severus," said Remus, "I've nothing but the utmost respect for your proficiency. Even so, Wolfsbane is an extremely complex potion. It requires a great deal of time and patience to learn, Tonks, and you are already—"

"I can be very patient when I set my mind to be."

Her eyes held a knowing look, and Remus could not deny the truth of the statement. She had the patience of a saint when it came to their relationship.

"I was talking more about the number of hours in the day," he said. "Your schedule is quite full enough without spending time dabbling with potions I can buy for my—"

Speech failed him as Tonks suddenly slid onto the settee, straddling his lap.

"I like giving my time to you," she said sweetly.

Remus could not deny how deeply touched he was. No one had done anything like this for him since James and Sirius told him they were going to learn how to become Animagi so he would not have to transform alone. He had resisted them initially, too, but they never backed down – as Tonks clearly was not going to do, either.

And Merlin, as much as his mates had meant to him, that a woman was offering so much filled places in his heart he had never known were empty. Tonks' nearness – her thighs pressed on either side of his, her curves so near, her adorable face leaning over his, lips parted – was heady.

He had barely brushed his mouth across hers when she drew back too soon.

"Actually," Tonks said, biting her lip in chagrin, "I'll be giving my time to Severus."

The statement had the same effect as being dowsed with cold water. "I beg your pardon?"

"He's going to tutor me. That's what I talked to him about before the meeting."

Remus blinked. She had to be joking.

"I think that's partly why he agreed," she went on. "The time."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

Remus was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Tonks was perfectly serious, that she had convinced Severus Snape to tutor her in the art of brewing one of the most difficult of all potions. How? A thought Tonks had planted in his mind during their previous conversation sprouted into a horrifyingly real possibility. Dear Merlin, did Snape…He could not finish the thought.

"I got an idea," said Tonks, "That he thinks it'll drive you mad for me to spend time with him."

Yes, that would indeed be maddening, but at least that sounded more like Snape. Remus could deal with the arrangement if Snape's motivation for helping Tonks was an act of spite toward an old nemesis. It did not mean what Remus first thought.

Tilting her head toward his, Tonks waggled her eyebrows and said conspiratorially, "I plan to schedule my tutoring sessions to coincide with your assignments – times we wouldn't be together anyway."

Though her slyness made him chuckle, Remus said, "But many times we have the same assignments."

"We'll make time for each other, like we always do."

He smiled softly. She had foreseen every possible objection and covered her tracks.

"It will drive me mad, you know," said Remus, "to think about him talking to you the way he does." Palms itching, he thought darkly how he despised the way Snape said her name.

"Well don't let on," said Tonks, looking slightly amused. "I don't want to give him that satisfaction. And his attitude's a small price to pay to learn to do this for you."

She leaned forward, and Remus could not contain a low sound of pleasure as her lips traced his, her body moving against him. His hands settled low on her back, fingers just skimming under the hem of her shirt to stroke her smooth skin.

This time, it was he who broke their kiss abruptly, her words "price" and "pay" ringing in his head, dredging up bits of past conversations about being a freeloader and Tonks' usefulness to him.

"It's too much, Tonks," he said. "The brew I purchase is much better than not having the potion at all."

"But why shouldn't you have the best, if you can?" Tonks asked. "Why shouldn't I try to brew it? I might not succeed, but what's the harm in trying?"

"There's no harm," Remus conceded, but he was unable to meet her gaze. "But if you insist on going ahead with this—"

"I do."

"—then will you let me at least pay you for the ingredients."

After a moment of silence, during which Remus feared he had infuriated her to speechlessness, she startled him by saying patiently, as though to a child, "D'you ask Molly to let you pay for the flour when she bakes you a cake, or yarn when she knits you jumpers?"

For a moment Remus sat dumbfounded, feeling as though the analogy had somehow knocked the wind out of him. "I'd be daft to offer."

"What d'you call it when you try it on your girlfriend?"

"Risking decapitation."

The corners of Tonks' lips twitched. "That's how I'd describe it."

Remus drew depth breaths and looked everywhere but at her as he scrabbled about for a way out of the hole he'd dug for himself. "This is rather like a birthday present, then, isn't it?"

"Yes, Remus," said Tonks, rolling her eyes in a way that made the hole deeper, "it's rather like a birthday present. It'll probably be your next birthday before you actually get any use of it, though. And I'm not the only one who violated your no gift policy."

"Sirius got me a subscription to a journal I used to take." Remus found himself unable to say it with annoyance; the prospect of spending Sunday afternoons poring over articles by the Wizarding world's most respected scholars was too appealing.

"You're a brilliant wizard, Remus," Tonks said softly, stroking his hair back from his face. "When will you stop being so bloody idiotic about things like presents? Your friends don't do nice things because they feel sorry for you. We do them because we like you."

"But I can't—"

"—return the favours monetarily," she finished for him, still in that gentle tone. Callused fingertips traced his cheek, his neck, his ear. "You do return them, in ways money can't buy. We're really the ones returning the favours, y'know. Magazines and potions don't go nearly far enough for all you do."

He could almost believe her. She was looking at him with such tenderness, with sincerity that almost made him feel worthy and deserving of the things he tried to give others. Her dark eyes touched him; he felt them inside, caressing like velvet. And then they sparkled mischievously, and Tonks squirmed on his lap as though to stave off a bout of giggles – and Remus staved off other feelings of a less innocent nature.

"Anyway," Tonks went on, "I'd never dream of accepting payment for something that could poison you. Which," she added with a smirk, "Severus rather glibly pointed out was one of the risks involved in learning to brew the potion."

"Glib hardly seems an appropriate adjective for Severus."

"Oh, it's appropriate, believe me. In fact, I'm sure that's what ultimately convinced him to help me – the possibility that I'll accidentally murder you."

"Yes." Staring vacantly at the cauldron full of potion ingredients, Remus imagined the conversation between them. "I can see him glib with that prospect."

Expression suddenly serious, and as different as if she had morphed her face, Tonks said softly, "You're such a giver, Remus. But if you don't learn to take sometimes, you'll run out of things to give."

He let his hands slide up her back to lace through the hair at the nape of her neck, and he became lost in her dark eyes, surrounded by the longest lashes he'd ever seen. Merlin – she looked as if she felt for him what he felt for her.

"Thank you," he murmured, and kissed her forehead. "You're wonderful." His lips trailed to her temple. "Absolutely wonderful, and I adore you." He kissed her cheek, then dragged his mouth to hers, pausing only to murmur her name against her lips.

He had not used her Christian name intentionally. It slipped out, and when she pulled away to look into his eyes, he half-expected her to scold him, or not to have taken him seriously. But she cupped his face and smiled in a way that made him hook his arms underneath her and pull her as close to him as he could.

"You even make my name feel adorable and wonderful," she said dreamily – and the thought that he could possibly make her like something about herself she never had before was thrilling.

Then, as if it struck her that she had opened a door, she quirked a brow and added, "That doesn't mean you've got permission to use it."

"I won't, unless you tell me I may." Voice dropping to a teasingly low pitch, he added, "Nymphadora."

Tonks must have liked the way he said it, because she only laughed softly and briefly before she brought his mouth to hers once again. And as he kissed her, Remus determined to express the gratitude he could not put into words for all the good she was brewing for his life.

The End