"The last time I got this edgy about a dinner invitation, I met Evan's mother," I said, throwing a dart at the latest Gulch memo of doom. It hit left of centre. I looked at Julia and said, "See? This is going to be another disaster. I can feel it!"

She pushed me gently aside and took aim. "Bullseye!" Julia crowed. "Now I get to read the memo." She unpinned it and turned the parchment over to read aloud, "There is no 'I' in team.That's harsh. What did you do to receive this?"

"Groaned a bit when she assigned me and Connelly to help Crantz and Stern investigate that club rumoured to be selling more than drinks."

She made sound very similar to the one that earned me the memo. "Those two? I thought they were retired."

"I thought they were dead."

Julia tried to keep a straight face. "Cheer up. Think of all they'll be able to teach you."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right, where to cadge a free drink, how to get other Aurors to do your work while you supervise and then take the credit. Those two are notorious."

"At least you'll get a free drink."

"Ha-ha."

Jerry stuck his head in the cubicle, grinning ear to ear. "Are you ready to go?"

I slanted a glance at Julia that warned her not to snicker and said, "Yeah. Are we meeting Anne outside?"

He shook his head. "No, she wanted to bring a bottle of wine, so she'll meet us there." His bright-eyed expression dimmed slightly. "Remus is fine with this, right?"

"Yes, he's having dinner with an old friend." Andrew had invited Remus over for Chinese takeaway and a match of wizard chess. I tried not to be envious. Smiling wryly at Julia, I told her, "See you tomorrow."

She said with evil sweetness, "I know you'll have a lovely time."

I followed Jerry out the door, looking back to flash my snickering friend an unfriendly hand gesture.

"That might earn you another memo."

I turned to see Tom grinning at me. I taunted, "You're jealous I hold the title of most memos given an Auror."

"I don't think that's something to brag about," Jerry said with a slight frown.

"And here I was going to tell your mum over dinner." I laughed when he paled at the thought and then turned to Tom. "Tell Jul to feel free to tidy my cubicle after playing darts."

"She'll take you up on that…and good luck."

Jerry and I walked down the stairs instead of waiting in line for a Floo. I asked, "What time does Anne get off work?"

"She left a half hour ago," he said cheerfully. "She should be there, waiting for us."

I practically flew down the steps.

.

Mrs. Connelly opened the front door with what I would've sworn was a smile of relief. "Jerreth!"

"Hello, Mum, you remember my partner Tonks."

"Vividly," she said with a pained smile.

I took the hand she tentatively outstretched and shook it heartily. "Wotcher, Mrs. C. Made a new wreath for the front door, eh? It's gorgeous."

She blinked in surprise. "Why…thank you."

"Bet your neighbours are dead jealous." I said, hoping to keep her off-balance by saying the unexpected.

A tiny smile curved thin lips. "I do set a very high standard for others to emulate."

Jerry asked, "Has Anne arrived?"

"Yes." Lips turned down, Mrs. Connelly led the way into the lounge, her posture straight and stiff.

A three-piece suite upholstered in a pale, floral fabric dominated the room. The furniture clustered around a fireplace with several family photographs on a white mantel. While Jerry went to sit beside Anne on the sofa, I walked over to look at the photos.

Mr. Connelly was a short, balding wizard who looked out-of-place beside his strapping wife and son. I found a picture of Jerry and his dad in Wizard Scout uniforms and picked it up. Their smiles were identical. I asked, "Is this when you made Phoenix Scout?"

"Mind the photograph!"

Mrs. C's shrill voice startled me, causing me to fumble the frame. I heard her sharp intake of breath and lunged to keep the photo from hitting the floor. If the rug in front of the fireplace hadn't been so thick, I might not have caught my toe on the edge. As it was, I felt forward, striking my knee against the sofa table on the way down.

"Are you all right?" Jerry asked.

I held up the frame. "The picture is in one piece."

Mrs. Connelly took it with an approving smile, stepping around me to return it to the mantel. Anne said, "You should have let it drop. It's just a photograph."

I slanted a look at Jerry's mum. Her expression could curdle milk. I tried to stand and accidentally put weight on the knee that hit the table. "Ow!"

Jerry rushed over. "You're hurt! Mum will fix you up. She taught me every healing spell I…oh!" He had helpfully ripped open my robes to see the injury, exposing not only my bloody skin, but also my black miniskirt worn with orange and black striped knee-high socks.

"Bit early for Halloween," Anne said, while Mrs. Connelly waved her wand in a spell I'd never heard before.

Jerry chuckled as though his girlfriend had made a joke, but I wasn't sure she meant it that nicely. Anne, in her ladylike blouse and long skirt, had an ill-mannered smirk on her face. She met my eyes and lifted an eyebrow. I took off the robes so she could see my orange tee. Her lips twisted with disdain.

"There, all better," Mrs. C pronounced, heading over to the drinks cabinet. I glanced down at my knee, now covered in a huge brown scab.

What was I supposed to say? "Uh, thanks."

"You are quite welcome."

Jerry muttered a spell beneath his breath. The ugly scab disappeared. I sighed in relief. "Thanks."

Mrs. Connelly turned from pouring what looked like sherry into a glass. "No need to thank me again. I am well known for my aid to others, and I am sure I would have made a wonderful mediwitch." She extended the glass. I looked at Jerry. He said, "Do you drink sherry?"

Not unless forced to. He cut his eyes over at Anne and then gave me a pleading look. I tried not to grimace as I asked, "For me? Thank you."

Mr. Connelly came home just before dinner. Soft-spoken, he allowed his wife to dominate the conversation while he ate in silence, smiling in response to some of her lofty pronouncements.

Anne did not smile. She had brought a red wine when the meal called for white. "I thought we were having beef, not fish," she said, stabbing a piece of roast turbot.

Jerry said, "I must have misheard." He threw me a pleading look.

I felt like an actor who had memorised one script only to be told to improvise at the last minute. I reluctantly took my cue and said, "My mother sprinkles black truffle on her fillets too."

Mrs. C said, "I place them artistically, because presentation is so important."

When conversation lagged, I said in response to Jerry's say something expression, "The asparagus is delicious."

"Vegetables are best when they're steamed crisp, not soft," Anne said.

Jerry shot a glance at his mother's set face and said, "You mean for nutrients? I…I like them either way."

"What's in the asparagus sauce?" I asked, prodded by Jerry's meaningful glance.

The pattern continued throughout dinner. Every time Anne would make a negative comment, Jerry would make a neutral one and then look to me to placate his mother. I ended up complimenting every dish and asking for conjuring tips I would never use. I'd expected to be treated coldly, but instead, Mrs. C shared tales of her vast culinary triumphs while ignoring Anne completely.

After dinner, Mr. Connelly sat in the lounge reading the paper while the rest of us cleared the dishes. The atmosphere in the kitchen was tense. When his mother asked him to help her choose a dessert wine, Jerry agreed with an affable nod.

Left alone with Anne, I said straight out, "Are you suffering from a headache or a head injury?"

"No, why?"

I tried not to sound angry. "Well, you've been doing your level best to get Mrs. C's goat, and that was supposed to me my job, so I wondered."

She crossed her arms. "I wonder how stupid you think I am."

I stared. "What?"

Anne said, "I know all about you and Jerry."

That sounded like a line from EastEnders. "We're partners."

"Yes, partners…"

I could almost hear dramatic music swelling in the background. I said, "Auror partners and friends, that's—"

"What you'd like me to think. Mrs. Connelly complimented me on being so open-minded, told me that although you were making Jerry share for now, she was sure once she gave you her approval, you would put her Jerreth first as he deserved!"

I laughed incredulously. "You believed that?"

Before I could explain everything, she said, "Why shouldn't I? It's Charlie Weasley all over again."

I felt like a soap character told her split personality had an affair with her husband's evil twin. I stammered, "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Charlie was going to ask me to the Winter Ball until he found out you didn't have a date!"

Cue the dramatic music! "I didn't know."

"Everyone in our House knew. I turned down a half-a-dozen invitations, waiting. I stayed in my room for a week afterwards, it made me so sick."

The music in my head screeched to a halt as if I'd dragged the needle across one of Dad's old records. "Wait a minute," I said. "What does Charlie have to do with Jerry?"

"I won't be second to you again. I'm not open-minded, and I'm not going to stay home while he takes you to the Winter Ball!"

Anne was mental! She needed to face facts. "There isn't going to be a Winter Ball, and if there was, you shouldn't wait to be asked if you like Charlie—Jerry—so much!"

She looked at me as though she hated me. "Not every woman is as aggressive as you are."

"No, some are passive aggressive witches like you!"

"Ahem."

Jerry and his mum had returned with the wine. I looked from Mrs. C's smug smile to my friend's wide-eyed alarm. "Thank you for dinner, but I can't stay for dessert," I said to Jerry. "I'm really sorry."

Anne burst into tears. I left Jerry trying to comfort her and retrieved my robes from the lounge. Mr. Connelly said, "Going so soon?"

I nodded, biting my lip.

He smiled. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise."

He returned his attention to the paper while I headed for the front door. Behind me, Mrs. Connelly called, "No, no, I can't have a guest Apparate outside, my wizard neighbours might think my Floo broken." She steered me back to the lounge and handed me a bottle. "Considering the circumstances, I think coffee or hard spirits more appropriate. Take it with you as a little gift."

It was Prosecco, the same brand of wine Tom had spiked with Veritaserum. How ironic.

I stumbled into the fireplace, taking a handful of Floo Powder from the cloisonné box Mrs. C offered me. She said, "Goodbye, dear. Thank you so much for coming."

I threw the powder, wanting to get away from there as fast as possible. The hearth I stepped onto at the other end wasn't mine, though. It was Jan's.

.

My friend was sitting on the sofa, reading a book, while her husband read the paper. When they looked up in surprise, I said, "I thought I was Flooing home, but I ended up here. Sorry."

Alan smiled kindly. "A Freudian Floo? We're happy to see you, regardless of circumstances."

The word circumstances brought back the memory of Mrs. Connelly's satisfied expression. I felt my face crumple. Jan put her arms around me. "What's wrong, mon amie?"

I let the whole story spill out. At the end, I held up the bottle. "From the Puppet Master for being a good little marionette."

"Diabolique," said Jan.

"She's not just diabolical, she's a fiend!"

"A green-eyed monster, perhaps, jalousie because her son is untying the…"

"Apron strings," Alan supplied for his wife, smiling when she blew him a kiss in thanks. He held out his hand for the bottle and examined the label. "Prosecco Spumante," he said, "would go well with that peach tart we never got round to eating."

I shook my head, but I was tempted. Jan said, "Fresh peaches, vanilla cream, with an apricot glaze."

I said, "Maybe a small slice, with half a glass of wine."

I ate two slices of peach tart and drank three glasses of Prosecco, listening to Jan and Alan reminisce about their parents and chuckling over the manipulations of other mothers they'd known.

"You two are the best," I said, kissing each of them on both cheeks before I ducked back into the fireplace.

"Mais Oui, yes, of course!" Jan said laughingly.

"Give Remus our best," said Alan.

That was a brilliant idea! I Flooed to his flat, hoping for a kiss and cuddle.

.

Remus wasn't home yet.

To amuse myself while I waited, I wandered into the kitchen and pulled the knob to open the junk drawer I'd made for my sweetie. He'd added a takeaway menu and a couple of buttons. I sighed happily.

In the lavatory, I washed my face and hung the flannel to dry. Remus liked things tidy. I helped myself to a brushing/flossing mint and decided to take a nap until my love got home. I didn't want to read, or waste my warm, fuzzy feeling on something productive, like making a to-do list. Closing my eyes and resting until Remus woke me with a kiss appealed much more.

I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on the bed. My eyes grew heavy, but I couldn't get comfortable. Brassieres were not meant to be slept in. I sat and undid the back clasp, reaching up to pull off the left shoulder strap before pulling the bra out of my tee through my right sleeve.

"Ta da!" I said, holding up the bra. After a moment, I tossed it onto the floor. Imagining Remus's smile wasn't the same as seeing it. I flopped back against the pillow and closed my eyes.

My miniskirt was too tight. It felt OK and looked great when I was standing or sitting, but lying down was a different story. I undid the button, but it was no use. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Remus had asked if I'd bought the matching panties; now he'd find out. They weren't any more revealing than bikini bottoms, so I refused to think about what Mum would say. I lay back down and slowly drifted into a dream.

.

Remus was speaking Latin and I understood every word.

"Vix a te videor posse tenere manus- I can hardly seem to keep my hands off you," he said, chuckling, trailing his fingers across the words written across the small of my back. I couldn't morph words onto my skin- I'd tried once and earned a blinding headache- but I had temporary ink and a friend named Jan to help me make a romantic gesture.

His fingertips smoothed higher. "Te teneo sub mea cute- I've got you under my skin."

Lying on my stomach with my arms pillowing my head, I grinned. "The first was from Ovid's 'Amores', but that one was inspired by Sinatra."

Remus lightly kissed the skin between, saying, "You are deep in the heart of me, a part of me, now."

The line in the middle of my back was longer. Jan had started writing far to the left side. I giggled as he brushed his hands over sensitive skin. In English, the words meant 'To kiss you with so many kisses, with some left over, will just about satisfy Tonks, mad with love.'

"Catullus couldn't have said it better himself," Remus teased, pressing kisses that made me shiver and catch my breath.

His lips clung to my skin after reading aloud the final line inscribed on my back, "Numquam alterum amem- It had to be you."

He pressed an open mouth kiss to the nape of my neck, playfully raking his teeth across in a way that made my body jerk in response. I gasped. "There's one more line for you to read."

"Show me."

The sexy growl in his voice made my heart race as I turned over. I'd written the last bit of Latin myself, vertically instead of horizontally. "Te Amo," I said.

He kissed me. "I love you, Nymphadora." His fingers traced the words. "I'm so flattered that you did this for me." Remus kissed me again, a slower, deeper exploration.

I felt him smile against my lips and asked, "What?"

"I wonder how long it will take for the words to wear off," he said with a low chuckle.

I shook my head. "Not long. It's temporary ink."

His finger traced the 'O' beneath my bellybutton. "I know ink, love. This is not temporary."

I sat up and stared down at the dark letters. "Shit!"

.

"Nymphadora, what's wrong?"

I blinked, looking down at the t-shirt my hands were lifting. "I accidentally wrote Te Amo in permanent ink instead of temporary," I said dazedly.

Remus sat beside me on the bed. "In a dream?"

I nodded.

He smoothed down my shirt and held my hands. "I'm flattered."

I could feel my cheeks growing hot, but I said lightly, "You should be. I'd written all over my back too!"

He released my hands to cup my face and give me a bone-melting kiss that made me long to melt all over him. Afterwards, I said dreamily, "What kind of kiss would I have got if I'd written Latin all over my body?"

His chuckle was low and sexy. "That's for me to know, and you to find out."

I whimpered. He smiled wolfishly and bent to pick up my discarded clothing, prudently changing the subject. "I like your socks."

"Not too Halloween for you?"

Remus said, "Like Christmas, I think we should keep the spirit of Halloween in our hearts all year round, dwell on the light, not the dark."

Ha! Take that, Anne, you barmy snob. I stood and put on my miniskirt, telling Remus about the dinner from Hades. He watched me contort to put the bra on under my tee and said, "You could do that in the lavatory."

I shook my head. "I'm a pro at this, watch. Ta-da!" I said triumphantly, after fastening my brassiere into place once more.

Seeing his amused smile was the best. That reminded me of Jan and Alan, so I told him about my visit. Remus shook his head chidingly, but his eyes twinkled. "Drinking again."

"Yeah, I'll have to watch it. Alcohol seems to make my clothes fall off."

He said, "When you put it that way, let's go find a pub." I stared, part of me incredibly tempted to take advantage of bottled courage. Remus said, "I meant to play darts. I'll buy you a Butterbeer."

I hadn't really thought he meant to get me drunk and naked. I tried to convey that with a casual, "OK."

He winked.

On the way downstairs, I said, "It seems like every time I try to help a friend, something goes wrong."

"You helped Rory, and that didn't go wrong. Julia and Tom are working things out because of you. Don't let what happened tonight affect your confidence." Remus slipped his arm around my waist as we walked toward the nearest pub.

I said, "Dwell on the light, not the dark. Is that what you do?"

I felt his lips brush my hair. "Every day."

.

.

A/N: No cliffie this chapter! (takes temperature, normal, hmmm…) Well, don't get used to it, LOL. One thing readers are very used to is me taking inspiration wherever I can, heh. This chapter, besides an old Gary Oldman film, songs, and Keeping Up Appearances, I was inspired by Ishandtwofourths' fic Strangeways, Here We Come. Specifically, chapter 18, the vignette in which Tonks morphs Remus' favourite book onto her skin. I read and thought, I'd make it Latin, and I'd have him kissing as he read…and... when Tonks dreamt, I knew what she'd be dreaming about. :D Thanks, ish! The people who inspire every week with reviews were… 40/16 AAMLrox alix33 Bardlover cupcakeswirl EmilyDanielle Potter eleen Elspeth Bates Embellished Fauzia FNP Freja Lercke-Falkenborg GraceRichie Hurley's Belial ishandtwofourths Kates Master katieweasley ladyofthebookworms Lerie Lizet M MagicalMischiefMakersInc MollyCoddles mon-ami-runa Nessime Paloma Patil Polaris101 RahNee sexyface Sivaroobini Lupin-Black Slipknot-3113 and sunny9847