A/N: Like I said in a conversation with someone, LupinTonks syndrome is only treatable by writing a nice long chapter story. Let's see if it works…

And, holy cow, Mugglenet finally has a picture of the actress for Tonks on set! I love the combat boots (want them is more like) and the actress looks promising. Purple hair, yes, but I imagine we'll have our fix of pink and spiky before the end. Anyway, this is a story, not a Tonks rant. Onward!

Disclaimer: Ha, Rowling wishes she could have this much fun.

Happy Reading!

Getting Him

From her mousy brown hair to her unpleasant demeanor Tonks derived that she was sick. Not throwing up sick, though she feared that was next, but a kind of sick that can be caught only from another person, and yet it is not contagious. She refused to call it 'love sick', as it reminded her of all the sappy movies she had been forced to watch as a kid, but it was pretty much just that at this point. Only the person she was chasing refused to be more than strictly professional. He was infuriating, actually, to the point that all she really wanted to do was rip his head off and ask for her life back. She swore that if she saw him again she would march right up to him, look him in the eye and tell him what an idiot he –

"Ouch!"

Tonks snapped out of her dark thoughts to find that she was on the ground. She shook her head. It seemed to her that no matter where she went these days she ended up on the ground. Even in the local bar she had found herself on the ground, only that had been a little different. It was, she thought, like trying to walk, talk and chew gum at the same time. After a moment she looked up and saw that the reason she was on the ground was because she had walked right into the person she had been thinking infuriating thoughts about. Her mouth went dry. And, judging by the feathers that were floating everywhere, he had been carrying a pillow and she had ripped it in her fall.

"Sorry," she apologized hastily. You stupid git, I hate you. Look what you've done to me!

"Not a problem. Here." He held out a hand.

She eyed him for a moment, fighting to keep her eyes from narrowing and wondered if she looked constipated from the effort, and then looked at his outstretched hand. She'd held that hand once, at a funeral, that very one, and then he'd gotten afraid and changed his mind. Taking his hand now would be like giving in, she mused, like admitting that she missed the warmth of his hand, slightly rough, and like admitting that she still fancied him, which she had previously insisted that she didn't. So who would win here? Her or him?

Or maybe you're overanalyzing it, she scolded herself. He's just lending you a hand. Enough with the symbolism already and take it before he wonders if you've turned into a statue.

Grudgingly, hating herself and him for it, she grabbed his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. He waved his wand once Tonks was stable and the feathers flew back into the pillowcase, white with yellow stripes, and sealed itself. Tonks wondered what the pillow was for, but didn't ask. In fact, before she had time to laugh at the yellow-striped pillow Remus had disappeared up the stairs with it tucked under his arm. With a sigh, Tonks wandered into the kitchen. Standing there was Molly, chopping up some onions.

"Hey Molly," Tonks said in an attempt to be cheerful. Molly turned.

"Oh, hello dear. Have you seen Remus lately?"

Tonks raised an eyebrow and snatched a freshly peeled carrot off the counter. She bit into it moodily so that she would not have to answer Molly's question. Molly, however, smiled knowingly and wiped a tear away that had been brought by the onions.

"Have you ever thought of taking matters into your own hands?" she asked calmly, turning back to her onions.

Tonks thought about this for a moment or so, chewing on her large bite of carrot. The honest answer was that she didn't know what Molly meant. "Define 'taking matters into my own hands'."

Molly raised a brow now and said coolly, "Remus has currently evacuated his house due to a possible infestation of manticores."

Tonks laughed. Yes, the image of Remus battling a rabid manticore with a wooden chair and an umbrella was very appealing at the moment.

"That would explain the pillow, then. Yeah, so?"

"So," Molly set down her wand and turned to Tonks patiently, "he has nowhere to stay except for here. And he really does hate this place. I can't say I blame him…" she shuddered. Whether involuntary or for added effect, Tonks thought the results on the mood of the conversation were good.

Tonks' eyebrows shot up so fast she was amazed that they didn't fly off her face. Surely Molly wasn't suggesting that Remus stay with Tonks?

"Why can't he stay with you?" Tonks narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Molly's eyes twinkled as she replied, "I'm afraid I've been feeling a little… under the weather. Dragon Pox, I fear, very contagious."

Tonks snorted with laughter. "You are the greatest, Molly, but Remus would never stay with me, not in a million years. We have a hate/hate relationship, remember?"

"He doesn't hate you, Tonks," Molly insisted sternly, picking up a carrot and biting into it. Apparently she was feeling none of the self-pity Tonks was feeling for herself. "He already fancies you, that we know, he's just being noble; he wants the best for you. All you have to do is convince him that he's the best for you."

Tonks tugged on a pull in her sleeve, not wanting to meet the redhead's eyes. "Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. I've told him a million times, Molly." This was all too true, after all.

With a smirk, Molly suggested, "Maybe words are not what he needs. Maybe you need to try actions to get him."

Get him, Tonks thought, sounded like something to say about a possession or toy. Then again…

"Maybe you're right." Tonks tapped her own temple. "You're too smart, Molly, thanks a ton."

Molly chuckled and continued making dinner as Tonks started for the door.

-

Grimmauld Place was so dismal that Tonks couldn't blame Remus in the slightest for not wanting to live there. All in my favor, she thought grimly, and knocked on his door. She tapped a rhythm on her thigh and tried to ignore the hammering in her chest and in her throat. Sure, the worst thing that could happen was that he turned her down, but rejection had become rather annoying in the past months. His footfalls, weary, told her that she had approximately three seconds… two seconds… one second…

"Can I help you, Tonks?"

She suddenly realized that she had put no thought whatsoever into what she was going to say. As usual, he was already driving her crazy with the nonchalance in which he addressed her.

"Er…" she began, wondering if this was such a great idea. "Molly tells me you have a bit of a manticore problem." Oh yeah, genius observation, Tonks. "And I know how much you hate this place and I was wondering if you wanted to crash at my flat for a few –" Best not say 'nights' she decided "– days while you get the problem sorted out."

Remus sighed and leaned against the doorframe, brushing his graying hair from his eyes. "I thought we were past this, Tonks."

Tonks fought back the urge to snort loudly. She found it hard to believe that he had bought the story she had fed him about her liking her hair like this now, lank and dull, and that she was not being miserable and that he was just thinking too much about her – analyzing the situation too hard. She defensively held up her hands to shoulder-height.

"Hey, Remus, we called a truce, remember?" Too true, she thought, though me saying that I didn't mind you ditching me and that I was over you was the most cock-and-bull story I have ever spun. Some truce.

He shrugged and replied simply, "I thought that staying at your flat might bring about an, ah, relapse?"

She plastered a cheeky smile on her face. "Nope, you can't tempt me, Remus. You're too boring for me anyway, I think. That, and you'd probably disapprove of my lifestyle too much to want to stay long-term."

He seemed to consider this, still leaning on the doorframe as if he could not hold himself up on his legs. And he probably couldn't, Tonks figured, as the full moon transformation had ended just yesterday. In fact, he looked almost tempted, which she wasn't ready to accept just yet. After a few moments, in which Tonks waited in awkward silence, silently fingering her robe sleeve, Remus stood up straighter and shrugged.

"Alright," he said plainly, picking up his pillow. "You're on."

She gaped at him, noticing a mixture of apprehension and amusement at her reaction behind his eyes. This was too easy, after all. She had been expecting more of a challenge… hell, she'd almost been hoping for one. A challenge would have meant that he considered their relationship to be more than friendly and professional. And yet, Molly's suggestion that actions meant more than words in this case were still ringing in Tonks' ears. She grinned half-truly this time – a little candle of hope had been lit inside her, warming her insides for the first time since the funeral.

"You're on," she said, and snatched his pillow away from him playfully. She put it under her arm and waited for him to get his single bag before they headed downstairs. Once they had reached the landing she added, "Nice pillow, by the way. Yellow is definitely your color."

A/N: I'm really happy by how easily this flowed from my brain without any hesitation. Usually that doesn't happen. I'd also like to mention that I'm really working on putting more, how do you say it? life, into my stories. Not just 'he said she said he walked over and picked up his pillow' kind of stuff, but more thoughts and whatnot. Meh, I don't know what I'm talking about. Anyway, this fic should be a real learning experience for me.