My cousins viewed me as poor and deprived, living without a mobile phone, computer or telly. My Aunts blamed my mother, who they regarded as a cross between a bohemian intellectual and some kind of creative anachronist. I allowed them to think I'd been brainwashed by Mum into embracing simplicity and kept in touch by renting a Muggle post office box.

Since Lora set the date for a June wedding, I'd begun stopping by the local sorting office almost daily to pick up my post. The day after the disaster dinner with Mrs. C, Arthur Weasley accompanied me.

I was avoiding Jerry.

It was cowardly of me to volunteer to be Mr. Weasley's help for the day, but I wanted to put off facing my partner. I knew in my gut he and Anne were through, and I was largely to blame. Unintentionally, but still, I felt guilty as hell.

"My, what a bustling sort of place this is, a veritable hive of activity," said Arthur as we entered the building at lunch hour. He asked with boyish eagerness, "Do you suppose I might wait in the queue whilst you collect your post?"

"For what? Stamps?"

We were both nodding to each other. I smiled. "Do you collect them or something?"

His eyes lit up. "Stamp collecting, what a unique idea. Yes, I think I will!"

I watched him join a queue and begin to converse with the person standing in front of him. Arthur would likely ask the man where he was sending his package, how long it would take to get there, and what kind of postage would be required. I chuckled, imagining his child-like enthusiasm. Mr. Weasley was a dear, sweet man.

The only item in my box was a card from Lora.

Tonks,

Johanna has arranged for another showing. Please try your best to come.

I read the address of yet another bridal designer and then the date. It was today. I groaned.

"Ill news?" asked Mr. Weasley.

I blinked in surprise. "How did you get through the queue so fast?"

"I was directed to machinery that dispenses stamps. Such an ingenious concept!"

I duly admired the stamps he'd purchased and asked, "Where do you want to go for lunch?"

He suddenly found the floor tiles fascinating. "Oh, I'm not very hungry."

I was reminded of a time I'd hung out with Charlie in Hogsmeade. He'd spent his pocket money on Quidditch magazines and then said he wasn't thirsty when we stopped at the Broomsticks. In a similar manner, Mr. Weasley had obviously changed his Galleons for Muggle currency earlier and spent his lunch money on stamps. I said lightly, "Neither am I, so you'll have to share a sandwich with me. I know this place near Gringotts."

.

We snagged one of the few available tables. "I don't believe I've ever had a woman take me to lunch before," Arthur said once our food arrived.

I grinned and reached for my half of the enormous club sandwich. "I bet they would've if you hadn't been the gentlemanly type that always paid."

Arthur's smile faded when a woman cried, "Bill, zere ees a table open wiz a view!"

I glanced up to see Arthur's eldest son escorting a blonde toward the table directly behind ours. The view was of the pavement outside, but maybe the Frenchwoman liked to watch passersby. The handsome curse-breaker was so wrapped up in his date, he sat down at the table without realising he was sitting with his back to his father.

Arthur's eyes widened when he heard his son say, "I would've made you a sandwich at my place, and I promise the view would've been spectacular."

Heads turned when the Frenchwoman laughed. "Meester Weasley, you are a vairy naughty boy."

I looked at Arthur.

He made a wry face before taking a bite of sandwich. The poor man choked when his son said, "If you think I'm naughty now, wait until tonight."

I thrust a water goblet into Arthur's hand. He gulped it down and then blotted his face with a serviette. Thankfully, a server came to take the couple's order, sparing us more naughty talk. In an unspoken agreement, Arthur and I began eating as quickly as possible.

After a few minutes, the humour of the situation got to us. I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from giggling. Arthur's shoulders were shaking. I didn't realise we were being observed until a heavily accented voice said, "Zey look 'appy."

"Who?" asked Bill.

"Ze couple behind you. 'E ees older, but zey 'ave much laughter wiz one anuzzer."

Bill was distracted from turning to look by the arrival of the server delivering his food. I raised my hand and quietly settled the bill. Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath before standing. He said, "Hello, Bill."

"Dad!" Bill saw me and gaped.

I gave a little wave. "Hello, Bill. Miss." I turned to Arthur and tapped my watch. "We'd best be getting along, sir, if we want to be on time for our next interview."

"Ah, yes, well, nice seeing you, son."

We hurried out of the café. Bill followed. "Dad, wait up!" He looked from me to Arthur and demanded, "What's going on here?"

"I've told you before Auror Tonks is a colleague. We were having lunch, something I will not hesitate to share with your mother. Can you say the same?"

Bill raised his hands. "Wait, I didn't mean…I mean…Lizet said…you can see how it looked!"

Arthur was giving his son a very cold stare. I decided to play peacemaker and morphed to resemble Frenchwoman. Bill's jaw dropped when I tossed back my hair and said, "Zat ees because you 'ave a dirty mind, you naughty boy!"

"Damn, she's good!" Bill said as I flounced away.

"She's also a good girl, and don't you forget it," Mr. Weasley said sternly.

I heard Bill's date call from the doorway of the café, "Bill, 'oo was zat girl you were talking wiz?"

Mr. Weasley was chuckling when he caught up to me down the street. "My son will have some explaining to do."

"Zat ees good," I said, morphing my features back to normal.

.

When I ducked into my cubicle to hang up my robes before leaving work, I found my Auror partner waiting. He pointed to the dartboard. "I'm improving."

Jerry's darts were closer to the centre. My shoulders slumped as I sat on the edge of my desk. "Lucky in darts, unlucky in love, right?" He opened his mouth, but I held up a hand. "First, I want to apologise. If I hadn't put on that act when I first met your mum—"

"She would've found something else to use."

He didn't sound upset. I asked, "So you and Anne…"

"We talked after I took her home."

"You broke up."

He nodded.

I waited. Connelly sat there. I said, "Men! Don't you know women need details? Spill!"

He smiled a little. "She told me she was sorry for acting so badly, and I told her I was sorry I never realised she was hung up on Charlie."

"How were you supposed to know that? You're not a mind reader!"

Jerry shrugged. "On our first date, she asked me if we kept in touch. When I said yes, she asked me the kind of questions that should've given me a clue."

"Hey, I would've asked how Charlie was doing too."

"Would you have asked if he had a girlfriend?"

I thought about it a second. "Yeah, I'm nosy."

"Would you ask if Charlie ever mentioned you, if he ever talked about visiting and getting together with old friends?"

"No."

Jerry's smile was rueful. "Would you ask if he ever mentioned Anne, or ask me if I thought the reason Charlie didn't have a girlfriend was because he still had feelings for her?"

I shook my head. "I didn't even remember her." Curious, I asked, "Does he have feelings for her?"

Jerry gave me a funny look. "For Anne? No."

I felt like I was missing something, but it was getting late, and the only thing I really needed to find out was, "Are you OK about the break up?"

"Surprisingly…yes."

Thank the stars. I smiled in relief. "Great." I hopped off the desk. "Sorry I didn't back you up today. What was it like working with Crantz and Stern?"

"We went out to lunch and they forgot to bring money. I was stuck paying."

"Ruddy cheapskates," I said. "Tomorrow, let's pack our lunches and eat in the park. Those two can fight the birds for breadcrumbs if they accidentally forget their money pouches again."

"All right."

I patted him on the shoulder and headed for the door. "See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

.

With the burden of guilt rolled off my shoulders, my stride was jaunty as I walked into yet another designer showroom. A sales assistant looked up from adjusting the skirt on a mannequin, her eyebrows rising as she asked, "May I help you?"

I had the mad urge to say I wanted to try on the wedding gown displayed. I wondered if all that satin would seem heavy, or make me feel like a princess.

"Miss?"

I shook off the impulse. "I'm with the March bridal party."

The woman's stiff expression relaxed. "Of course, right this way."

In the back, my aunt and cousins were all talking at once, giving their opinions on the latest bridesmaid gown up for consideration. I slid onto a chair beside Rita. She looked at me and said, "Nice dress, yeah?"

I let a shoulder rise and fall, trying my best not to be the one who pointed out the flaw.

Rita demanded, "What's that mean? What's wrong with it?"

I shot her an irritated look. "Could you speak a little louder? I don't think Fuss-budget heard you!"

The sound of a throat clearing brought our attention to the wedding planner frowning at us. She'd heard, and asked coolly, "Is there something you wish to say, Miss Tonks?"

"No."

Lora said, "I want the bridesmaid dresses to be perfect, so don't hold back for my sake."

The expressions on the rest of my family's faces told me to please hold back, but I couldn't. I said, "That jacket thing looks like something Gran would wear."

"Your grandmother wears translucent organza over satin?" Fuss said disbelievingly.

We all nodded. Flustered, the woman said, "Very well, there are more dresses to consider."

An hour later, I was tired of trying to decide if a crossover neckline was more flattering than sweetheart or strapless, whether an embroidered band or a grosgrain ribbon at the waist would accentuate or detract from the dress. I wanted Lora to pick something so I could leave.

The last bridesmaid's gown modelled brought a huge smile to my cousin's face. "It's perfect!" she gushed, pressing her hands to her heart.

Beside me, Rita whispered, "If you say one bloody word, I'm going to take a strand of your hair to a voodoo priestess and have her stick so many pins…"

"I get the point, so shut it," I said, pasting a smile on my face when the bride-to-be asked if we all loved the dress too. Lora looked at each bridesmaid for confirmation, and then asked, "Mum? Johanna?"

They gave their smiling approval. In short order, assistants herded us into a dressing area to have our measurements taken.

Afterwards, Amy, Liz, and Rita dragged me off to a pub for a drink.

"C'mon, I'll buy you a beer," said Rita, edging her way to the bar.

"No thanks, I'll take a fizzy drink."

Behind me, Liz started laughing. "What's the matter, afraid you'll get plastered again?"

Amy frowned at her little sister, asking, "How'd Remus like the poem?"

My smile stretched so wide, my cousins declared a toast was called for. We took our drinks to a back table and raised our glasses to love, poetry, and scrummy guys who deserved both. Rita said, "I wish I could find a man, who deserved a love poem, don't you Liz?"

"No, I'm too busy with school, but I could set you up with this guy I know."

"Is he under twenty-one?" Rita shook her head when Liz nodded. "No, thank you. I prefer not to feel like a child minder on a date."

"I know someone," I said, the words slipping out before I had a chance to consider whether my idea was brilliant or bloody stupid. "From work. He's tall, good-looking, nice."

"Straight?"

I laughed. "Yes, Jerry's straight, and I think you'd like him. He was a Scout."

Liz asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

Rita snorted. "She's implying I have a thing for men in uniform."

"Which you do," said Amy.

"Yeah, I do." Rita thought it over for a minute. "All right, set me up, but you and Remus are coming along on this blind date in case your Jerry turns out to be not-so-nice."

"Sure." I only had to talk to Remus, convince Jerry that a date with my Muggle cousin was exactly what he needed get back into dating, and figure out where to go. I could do that. A little voice in the back of my head reminded me that I had a lot on my plate right now, but I ignored it and finished my drink.

.

Early the next morning, a soft touch on my arm interrupted my dream of walking down an aisle holding a bouquet of wildflowers.

"Nymphadora, it's time to wake up."

I opened my eyes to see Remus leaning over me. I reached up to caress his cheek. "You look so handsome in a tux." I rubbed a fingertip across his bottom lip, sighing. I wished I'd chewed a morning-after-strength brushing/flossing mint last night. I would've pulled him down and snogged him breathless.

"Were you dreaming again?" he asked with a smile. I loved his smile. Remus kissed me softly and said, "Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me."

I sat up. "Is that from an old song?"

"Yes."

"I like it, and I'll be out in ten minutes."

"We'll be waiting."

I took a quick shower and dressed in record time. The plan was for Remus, Julia, and I to disguise ourselves and take positions around the drop-off site. Tom would arrive and leave the packet, containing Galleons paid to bearer certificates, in a designated rubbish bin. We didn't plan to do anything other than watch the crowd and take pictures with spy cameras as a backup if the Tracing Spell failed for any reason.

In the doorway of the lounge, I paused to watch Remus tie back his hair and place a floppy hat on his head. In his oldest clothes and a long, threadbare jacket, he looked like a homeless person.

Julia, on the other hand, wore a brunette wig and a business suit. She put on a pair of sunglasses and picked up a briefcase. "Do I look busy and important?"

"Terribly. I'd hesitate to ask for your spare change." Remus chuckled.

I stepped into the room. "I'll give you everything I've got, mister."

His smile became wolfish. "I don't want your money, miss."

"I'm not offering you money."

I realised how that sounded the instant he raised an eyebrow. I blushed.

Julia said, "If kisses are on offer, give them later, mate. We've got to go." She headed to the fireplace. We planned to Floo to a central station and walk separately from there.

I nodded, morphing to pose as an elderly woman. I clutched my shawl and followed Remus. Unable to resist, I reached out and pinched his arse. He jumped in surprise. I cackled. He shook his head in mock disgust. "You dirty old woman." Winking, he added, "I'll see to you later, Granny."

.

The blackmailer had picked a park in a square in the heart of a Muggle theatre district as the drop off point. I sat on a bench beneath a shady tree, gazing at the fountain with a statue of Shakespeare. At a sidewalk café nearby, Julia sipped coffee. Near a statue of a comic-looking man with a hat and cane, Remus sat on the ground with his back to a lamppost, reading a tatty old book.

Muggles jogged through the park, strolled through with mobile phones at their ears or with cups of coffee in their hands. Using the camera concealed in my purse, I took photographs of anyone who lingered more than a few minutes.

At the appointed time, Tom walked up and dropped a packet into a black rubbish bin a few metres away from Remus. He left the park immediately.

I acted engrossed by the flowers planted amidst the greenery surrounding the fountain while covertly watching to see what happened. I recognised the red flowers as geraniums, but I had no clue what the purplish-blue ones were.

A rustling sound drew my gaze to the rubbish bin. In disbelief, I watched a large ferret scrabble out, the packet in its mouth. I lifted my purse and began taking pictures.

The animal teetered on the rim of the bin before leaping to the ground. The packet dislodged on impact, but the ferret instantly ran over and used its teeth to begin dragging it across the grass toward the street. It stopped several times, panting for breath, before reaching the pavement and presumably the alley beside the theatre beyond.

I stood and began walking toward Remus, who was marking his place in the story as he rose to his feet. Julia hurried over to join us, her heels making a rapid clicking sound on the pavers. Remus slipped his book into a pocket and asked, "Do you think the ferret was under a spell? Its actions were unnatural."

Behind me, a man drawled, "That's because the ferret was unnatural."

"What are you doing here, Rosier?" Remus demanded.

Evan stepped forward with a mocking smile. "Did you really think I'd blithely hand over the equivalent of thousands of Galleons and wait to be told the results of this venture?" He shook his head. "I used a Disillusionment Charm and blended into the bench across from a sexy septuagenarian."

I looked around. No one was nearby, so I morphed my features back to normal. "Stop being a perv and tell us what you meant by the ferret was unnatural."

Evan gave us a considering look and then shrugged. "That wasn't an ordinary ferret. It was an Animagus."

.

.

A/N: Happy Birthday to Sivaroobini Lupin-Black! She's 14 and already showing great taste in men, lol.

If you've ever been to a Renaissance Fair (or a re-enactment of the battle of Hastings, lol) you saw members of the Society for Creative Anachronism. I can't help but think a lot of witches and wizards would be taken for SCA members who've taken the pastime of re-creating Medieval or Renaissance times to unhealthy levels, LOL. Beautiful Dreamer is a classic Stephen Foster song, and if anyone wonders if I patterned my square on Leicester Square, yes, I did. Last fic, Bill was hitting on a blonde. Now's he's putting the moves on a blonde Frenchwoman named Lizet…one step closer to the guillotine. :D The people who took reviewing to healthy and uplifting levels last chap were...… 40/16 AAMLrox alix33 amattsonperdue Bardlover cupcakeswirl eleen Elspeth Bates Embellished Fauzia FNP Freja Lercke-Falkenborg GraceRichie harpergirl Hurley's Belial ishandtwofourths katieweasley ladyofthebookworms Lerie Lizet M MagicalMischiefMakersInc MollyCoddles Nagini Fay Nessime Polaris101 RahNee Sivaroobini Lupin-Black Slipknot-3113 sunny9847and WriterMerrin