First

He was nervous the first time.

Nervous that he hadn't done this with a woman in a long while.

(He hadn't counted the years).

Nervous that he'd touch her too hard or too soft or in the wrong places.

Nervous it'd happen too slow or too quickly.

(Sirius would laugh his head off).

Nervous that she wouldn't enjoy it.

(He didn't think she was the sort of woman to pretend she had to make him feel better. That was one of the things he liked about her).

He doubted that her expectations were high, but even then he supposed that he'd disappoint her.


He was nervous that in undressing him she'd see just how tattered his clothes were.

("For God's sake, Remus," groaned Sirius, "Let me buy you some new t-shirts,").

Nervous about his puny arms and narrow chest.

Nervous about how gaunt he was.

("Have another pasty," ordered Molly as she shoved one onto his plate).

Nervous about the nicks on his arms-

(Sirius insisted on buying him Wolfsbane, but even a tame wolf's claws are sharp and hulking).

-and the bruises on his shoulders.

(The wolf's scapula burst through his skin and his arms contorted horribly into the wolf's front legs and it hurt, it hurt).

He was nervous that she'd see all this and pity him, and pity from her was one thing he couldn't stand.


He was nervous about her seeing the angry red bite-mark at the top of his left arm.

("Mummy! Mummy!").

(Sirius' head appeared over the top of the shower cubicle, "Let's see the bite, then,").

(He's sobbing and writhing and there's blood and fur and vomit all over his bed).

("I thought it'd be bigger than that, Moony,").

("Mummy!").


He was nervous that once they'd started she'd realise what she was doing with what he was and that she'd be repulsed.

(He wouldn't blame her).

Nervous at seeing the horror and fear in her eyes.

Nervous that she'd shove him away and scream at him for trying to taint her like this.

He half-hoped that she did. It would spare him the agony of falling for her harder.


He managed to mumble some of this, part of this, very little of this, when it happened the first time.

(He knew her bedroom would be a mess).

Sprawled on the bed, she was beside him kissing his neck and fumbling with his shirt buttons, guiding his hands to her breasts.

("Listen, Tonks, I…I haven't done this in a while and I don't want you to…I don't want you to think…are you sure this is what you want?").

She pulled her mouth away from his neck, cocked her head and looked at him.

"Are you worried?"

"Yes," he admitted, "A bit,"

(A lot).

(She paused).

"You daft thing," she said, "It's going to be alright".


Afterwards, he wonders why he was nervous at all.