The room was on the top floor: worth the extra money. Tonks wriggled her bare toes in the plush carpet before striding across the sitting area to open the curtains and reveal the magnificent vista of water and skyline beyond.

"Lovely view," Remus said behind her.

She threw a cheeky glance over her shoulder. "Are you referring to the bay or my bum?"

Still lying prone across cream-coloured sheets, Remus smiled wolfishly. "What bay?"

Tonks ran back to the bed to pin her lover down and cover his face with kisses. "Just for that, I'm going to kiss you everywhere the sun shines."

His amber eyes gleamed. "You've flooded the room with sunlight."

She laughed deep in her throat.

-

"What's so funny?" Jerry asked.

Jolted back to reality, Tonks realised that she had been staring off, laughing to herself. It was no wonder her partner was giving her a wary look. They were standing in front of the Hog's Head, directly beneath the gory sign! She must have patrolled in a daze, thinking about Remus.

Tonks said the first thing that came to her mind. "Food."

Jerry's eyebrows shot up.

She shrugged. "I have a hankering for steak with mushrooms, battered onion rings and chunky fries." Like the steak Remus and I ordered from room service... Tonks made a face. "But we're more likely to get shepherd's pie with minced mystery meat."

A frown creased Jerry's brow beneath his tidy, side-parted fringe. "Isn't shepherd's pie made with lamb?"

"If our landlord isn't doing the cooking." Instantly, she felt mean for making Jerry worry about dinner. "Don't listen to me," she said. "I'm displacing frustration, as my mum would say."

And after two weeks of Dix and Dawlish participating in an unknowing conspiracy to keep me apart from Remus, I've built up a lot of frustration, mate!

"Frustration?"

Her face heated. "Yeah," she tried to say casually. "I haven't had great—steak—in weeks."

Her naughty side sniggered in her ear. Great sex, you mean!

Jerry grinned. "I can take care of that."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can. Hamish told me about an inn that serves the best steaks in the Highlands. It's on the Floo Network, in a village near Loch Ness." His face lit up with boyish eagerness. "We could take a walk and look for Nessie!"

"In the dark?" Tonks could imagine Jerry and herself peering out at the loch, wands held high, until a random splash caused them to yell and make a run for it. She shook her head.

"Oh. Right. I suppose not," Jerry said. His crestfallen expression lightened. "But we could go for the steak."

They could. She had boycotted the Broomsticks since Rosmerta unfairly kicked her out, and was sick and tired of eating at the Hog's Head. Tonks wanted to dine somewhere people had decent table manners and where she didn't have to use a sanitising spell on the cutlery and plates. She clapped him on the shoulder. "Clear it with Dawlish and I'm in."

A couple of hours later, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, smiling at Remus' reflection in the Melusine Mirror. After he told her about his day of investigating potential brewers of Wolfsbane Potion, she happily shared her plans for dinner.

Remus regarded her thoughtfully before asking, "What are you wearing?"

"The red jumper I wore for you as a minidress and my wide-legged black trousers. My combat boots give the outfit a Cossack look."

He didn't smile the way she'd expected.

When he remained silent, she got defensive. "It isn't my Little Red Riding Hood outfit, and this is Jerry, for Merlin's sake! It's like you going to dinner with Will," she said. "It isn't a date!"

"Not on your part."

"Not on his, either!"

"I hope not."

Tonks decided to change the subject before they had a row over something stupid. "So," she said brightly, "what are you having for dinner?"

"Shepherd's pie—or rather, cottage pie, since all we have is minced beef."

For the second time that day, Tonks felt guilty. Why had she nattered on about steak? "I'm sure yours is much better than the pie our landlord serves."

"I learned the recipe from Hagrid," Remus said. "He taught me how to mash potatoes." The corners of his mouth turned up. "Although smash potato is the more apt description."

"Sounds like fun."

Remus' smile widened. "It was…and is."

They chatted about their experiences with Hagrid's cooking, especially the jaw-locking, gooey disaster masquerading as treacle fudge. As they said goodbye, Tonks promised to contact Remus later, to bid him a proper goodnight. "It's the next best thing to being cuddled next to you, whispering 'I love you' in the dark."

"And holding your hand..." Remus' wistful expression made her long to wrap her arms around him. "I'll keep the mirror close," he said.

Missing Remus made it hard for Tonks to dredge up a cheerful greeting when she opened the door to Jerry.

He complimented her outfit, bringing her thoughts back to Remus again. If she had dressed for her lover, she would've worn sheer black stockings instead of trousers and looked forward to a very different end of the evening! "Ta, Thanks," she said, "You look—erm—spiffy."

Jerry wore black dress robes.

He looks dressed up for a date, said the wicked little voice at the back of her mind.

Tonks silently cursed her wretched Black Streak and her acute sense of smell. Jerry never wore cologne, but he was wearing some now. It didn't suit him, being woody and spicy instead of clean and fresh. The scent would've suited Remus much better.

Jerry smiled self-consciously. "All I have with me is casual clothes so I went by Gladrags. This was the only set in my size. Am I overdressed? I could wear my Auror robes—"

"No, spiffy's fine, let's go," she said breezily. On the way downstairs, Tonks joked, "I hope we don't run into Snape. He thinks he has a monopoly on mandarin collars."

Jerry chuckled. "I look like Snape?"

The image of Jerry with Professor Snarky hair had her snorting with laughter. "Nah," she said. "More like a priest I once saw at Gran's church."

The one who left the priesthood to marry a parishioner?

Shut it, you, Tonks mentally ordered what her Gran would call the devil on her shoulder. She pictured the little imp as herself in Halloween gear, blowing a kiss after applying flame red lipstick. It was disturbing that she couldn't envision an angelic counterpart.

That's because you're no angel.

"Is that good?" Jerry asked innocently.

For me it is. Saints are boring.

Tonks got a hold on her runaway imagination. "Yes," she said firmly. "It's very nice." She nodded in emphasis and marched through the pub toward the corridor leading to the public Floo. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dawlish, Savage, and Proudfoot huddled around a table, likely panting for a round of man gossip the second she and Jerry were out of hearing range. She made a V with two fingers and tapped against her thigh as she walked—one tap for each judgmental git.

"Where are we going?" she asked when they reached the Floo.

"Drumnadrochit Inn."

Tonks took a pinch of Floo powder from the wooden box on the mantel. "Say that again slowly."

"Drum-na-DROCH-it," Jerry said. "Droch softens at the end, like loch, not lock. It's easy."

"If you say so." Tonks carefully copied his pronunciation.

At her destination, she stepped out of the fireplace onto a marble hearth of the entry, noting that the inn was larger and more posh than she had expected. It wasn't a casual, combat boots kind of place. She shrugged.

Jerry exited the Floo, coughing. Tonks pounded him on the back before wiping at the powder on his shoulders. "What did you do? Drop the box?" A layer of fine green powder covered his robes.

Brown freckles seemed to jump out from flushed skin. "Yes."

His embarrassment struck a chord of empathy. How many times had she been clumsy in the past?

Not wanting to count that high, she took out her wand. It only took a few moments to perform her oft-used dry cleaning spell. "All better," Tonks said briskly, emulating the tone her mother had always taken with her.

Jerry's stiff posture relaxed. "Thanks."

"Anything for a friend."

"Welcome to Drumnadrochit," said a hearty male voice. A bald wizard with a red plaid draped over his shoulder bustled in from what she guessed was the restaurant, hand outstretched. "Donald Cameron, innkeeper and maitre d. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Connelly. Pleased to meet you."

Poor Jerry was blushing again. He shook the man's hand. "Jerry Connelly." He turned to Tonks. "This is—"

"Nymphadora Tonks," she said, taking beefy fingers in a firm clasp. "Call me Tonks. Charming place you have."

Their host, after smoothly apologising for his error, chatted about the restoration projects he'd taken on after buying the inn a few years prior. "Worth every Galleon," he said, escorting them to the dining area softly lit with floating candles. He led them to a table in the centre of the room. "Like our steak."

Tonks sighed in appreciation of sparkling silver and spotless glassware. "I'm sure it is."

After Jerry pushed in her chair, she ran her fingertips across the crisp white linen tablecloth. "This was a brilliant idea, mate."

"You haven't tasted the steak yet."

She moved the red rose centrepiece to the side of the table. It reminded her of Remus' old flat above the Patils' corner shop, and the single, perfect rose he always placed next to the mattress on the floor of his safe room. Memories of sleepy morning kisses and rose petals trailed across her skin brought a lump to her throat.

Abruptly aware that Jerry waited for her to respond, she said, "I don't need to. As your mother would say, this is obviously an establishment of quality." When he gave a soft laugh over her imitating his mum's accent, she asked, "How is Mrs. C these days? I'm surprised she hasn't dragged your dad to Hogsmeade to make sure her darling Jerreth is properly cared for." Tonks asked curiously, "Isn't she worried you'll be snapped up by some village girl?"

"Not any more."

Their server approached, turning the conversation to food and drink. On the motherly Tambra's high recommendation, they chose Scottish ale to complement their steak. Tonks enjoyed the malty, full-bodied brew, but didn't think Jerry liked it much. He only took small sips.

Once Tambra served their dinners, Tonks said, "When you get the chance, he'd like a glass of lemonade."

Jerry said, "That's not necessary—"

Tonks waved a hand airily to cut off the weak protest. "I'll finish your ale so it won't go to waste. You don't have to feel guilty about thirsty wizards somewhere."

Tambra said, "I've heard "starving children" but never "thirsty wizards". I wonder if that line would get my kids to drink more water?"

"It never got me to finish my milk," Tonks admitted with a grin. "I liked the idea of some kid blinking in surprise when my glass appeared on the table before them, but my mum would never use the transportation spell."

"I would've loved for my Brussels sprouts to have vanished," said Tambra.

When the server ambled over to check on other patrons, Tonks narrowed her eyes at Jerry. "You always cleared your plate, didn't you?" She shook her head in mock-disgust when he nodded. "Mummy's boy."

"Is that what you think of me?"

Oh, crap, she'd hurt his feelings. "I was just taking the piss out of you, not making fun—well, not in a mean way."

"It's all right," he said resigned smile. "I've heard it before."

"From who? Anne? Meg? Whichever psycho ex-girlfriend told you that is—"

"Every girl I've ever dated said that, actually. Are they all wrong?"

"Yeah!" she said, snatching up her knife to hack into her steak. "You're nice. Nice men respect their mothers. You need a nice girl who will respect you for that!" She stabbed a piece of meat with her fork and pointed it at him. "Not too nice, though, or your mum will drive her off." She chewed the steak and made an 'Mmmm' of approval. "This is fabulous. Stop talking and eat."

Jerry's slight smile told her he knew who had really been jabbering on, but he obediently cut into his steak.

At the end of the excellent dinner, Tonks wasn't eager to return to the solitary confinement of her cell-like room above the Hog's Head. She asked Tambra, "Is there anyplace around here we could play darts?"

"The inn has a pub 'round the back."

Tonks looked at Jerry. "Are we on for a match?"

He smiled like an overgrown wizard scout. "Yeah!"

They strolled around the two-storied, whitewashed inn and discovered no sign announced the entrance to the Drumnadrochit pub. Entering through a weathered green door behind a young couple, Tonks found the air of worn comfort an appealing contrast to the luxury of the inn. Dark wood panels and faded leather seating revealed no refurbishment had gone on in this area. Tonks guessed the locals preferred it that way. Villagers crammed into the warm, peaty-smelling space.

The wizened barman was much friendlier than her goat of a landlord. He rattled off a list of ales and lagers when she asked what the house specialties were.

"Tell her aboot the cider," the heavyset wizard on her right said loudly. He leered at Tonks while elbowing his mate in the stomach.

The man belched when nudged. "Go on, McEwan," he said, blearily taking his cue. "Make a galoot of yerself."

Although both the unpleasant men reeked of whisky and beer, Tonks labelled the two Stinky Bastard and Beer Breath to differentiate between the one who looked mean and nasty, and the one who appeared merely following his friend's lead. "Do you make your own cider?" she asked the barman, right after using a nonverbal spell to return the repulsive stench to its source.

The second, more inebriated wizard, blinked confusedly as a "breeze" ruffled his hair.

The one standing beside her smiled unpleasantly. "Yeh got tricks, lass? Me too."

Jerry stepped forward. "Perhaps we should go," he said in a low voice.

Tonks didn't budge. "After a glass of cider and a darts match."

The barman had already pulled her a pint. "I use apple juice, fruits and spices to combine the subtlety of wine with beer."

"Sounds good," she said, taking the glass and a drink. "Tastes even better."

Jerry exhaled heavily. "Look—"

She set her pint down on the bar with a thud. "No, you—" She broke off when a small group moved toward the door. "Look," she said. "There's a darts board open. Let's grab it. One match and we'll leave. Please?" Her puppy dog eyes weren't up to Sirius-standards, but they were effective.

Jerry said, "All right."

"Beg pardon, lass. Yeh forgot yer cider." The one she thought of as Stinky Bastard jerked his head toward the bar.

"Ta, Thanks," she said, surprised that he would bother to remind her, and courteously, at that.

His smile bared teeth that didn't chew brushing/flossing mints often. "My pleasure." He looked at Jerry and ruined the gesture of chivalry by saying, "If I was you, I'd get her to bed, soon, lad."

Jerry drew himself up to his full height. "I'm not a lad. I'm an Auror, and you've had enough to drink tonight. You'd best go home and sleep it off."

Stinky Bastard and his crony Beer Breath left the pub so quickly they practically fell over themselves. Tonks almost had cider dripping from her nose the sight was so hilarious. "Merlin, Jerry!" she gasped. "I think you scared them sober!"

He took the half-empty glass out of her hand and set it on a table near the darts board. "Something you're not."

She giggled. "I've had two measly-weasley drinks. No one gets plastered on that." She reached up and pinched Jerry's cheeks. "'Cept maybe you, my wizard scout friend."

He stared at her doubtfully.

Tonks grabbed a handful of darts and held one up, trying to keep a straight face. "Play with me or become a human target."

Jerry huffed with amusement. "I'll play."

She gave him a hug. "I'll try not to beat you badly."

Tonks tried her best, but the darts were defective or had a jinx on them, because she never hit what she aimed for. She squinted at the dartboard, attempting to bring it into clearer focus.

"Why do you have one eye closed?" Jerry asked, after scoring a triple.

"I'm doin' an experiment." She threw a dart. It hit the board on the opposite side from where she wanted it. "Bloody hell! My eyesight's wonky!" Her bottom lip turned down.

Jerry patted her on the arm. "It's okay. I haven't been keeping score."

She reached up on tiptoes to give him a smacking kiss on the cheek. "You're the best!" All of a sudden, Tonks swayed on her feet. She clutched the front of Jerry's robes. "Stars, mate, I don' feel so good."

He gripped her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"Dizzy—hot," she said miserably. Why was the room spinning?

Jerry lifted her chin to look in her eyes. His fingers felt blessedly cool. "I'm going to summon a Healer," he said.

"No. I'm not sick."

"Yes, you are. Your eyes are dilated and your skin is flushed." His palm cupped her cheek. "Can you walk? If not I'll carry you."

Tears slipped down her face. Tonks felt so bad; all she wanted was to curl up and sleep.

The thought of bed triggered a memory.

If I was you, I'd get her to bed, soon, lad.

"My cider," she said, a surge of anger coursing though her. "That bastard put somethin' in my drink!" Tonks spat a filthy word. "How could I be so stupid? We learned about this in training!"

Witches who left drinks unattended in a pub or accepted champagne from an "admirer" ran the risk of being drugged with date-rape potions. Tonks would bet her last Galleon that Get Her to Bed was the street name of one of them. She thought of the girls who woke up bruised and violated, with no memory of what had happened. Her stomach twisted with spasms.

"My glass—evidence—" She retched violently onto the floor.

The villagers had gathered around them, muttering and gasping in reaction. They stepped back from the spreading pool of vomit.

"Send for a Healer—NOW!" Jerry yelled, leaving her side to collect the tainted cider.

"Poor thing, I'll have this cleared in a trice," said a voice softly-accented with a Scottish brogue.

Tonks looked sideways at the old woman who waved her wand to vanish the mess on the floor. When the kindly witch moved closer to use her spells to clean Tonks' clothing and skin, her features seemed to blur and shift.

"Gran!" Tonks cried. "How did you get here? Are you and Mr. Santini on holiday?"

Jerry returned with the charm-sealed glass. "Tonks, that's not your grandmother. You've been drugged." He slipped the "evidence" into a pocket. "I'm taking you out of here."

"There's a rear door that connects to the inn," someone called out.

Tonks felt the room heave like a ship in a storm when Jerry lifted her into his arms. She groaned. "No. I could vomit on you."

"I'm washable."

Inexplicably, she giggled.

Jerry walked faster.

The motion caused her stomach to lurch. Tonks closed her eyes, concentrating fiercely on keeping whatever remained of the contents in her stomach. Vaguely, it registered that she was being carried up a staircase and down a corridor. Still it was a shock to feel her body lowered to a mattress. "Am I in hospital?" she asked dazedly.

"Not yet," said a cool male voice. "I'm here to determine if that's necessary."

Tonks cracked open her eyes to peer up at the wizard standing beside the bed. "First you won' teach me to brew Wolfsbane Potion and now you'll send me to hospital? Thanks for nothing, Snape." Her face crumpled. Stinky or snarky, men could be such bastards! She turned her face to the wall.

Words and phrases penetrated her mental fog.

Side effects...hallucinations...no counter potion...watch for Respiratory Distress...Cameron contacted local MLE and your superior...unless her condition worsens I'll return in the morning...

She was sleepy, but whoever was talking kept her awake. A line from a wizard punk rock song rolled through her mind. She sang tiredly, "Shut up, shut up, shut up, don't wanna hear it..."

The blathering continued. Tonks grew tetchy. "Get out, get out, get out," she sang a little louder.

She smiled when silence fell, and was almost asleep when a gentle touch on her cheek awakened her. Tonks opened heavy lids to see a man leaning over her. As she watched, his face came into focus.

It was Remus.

Tears of joy sprang to her eyes. "You always take care of me."

"It's no trouble," he whispered, taking her pulse before feeling her forehead with the backs of his fingers. "The Healer said your increased body temperature is beneficial in fighting the potion."

Tonks pulled fretfully at her top. "I don't want to sleep in clothes. It's too hot."

"Do—do you need assistance?"

She gave up her attempt to sit up and fell back against the pillow. "I'm so damn weak. I hate it."

"It isn't weak to ask for help." Remus pulled her tunic up and off without trouble, but had a hard time unbuttoning her trousers.

Tonks frowned. "You're making me feel fat."

"I'm sorry," he said huskily. "I haven't done this in awhile."

"Damn Dawlish," she muttered. "Dix too."

"Beg pardon?"

She unfastened the front clasp of her bra. "I don't care if the ad says it's barely there." Tonks held out her arm. "Take this off, please."

"Okay, I'll just—uh—pull up the sheet."

Tonks feebly kicked her legs. "No! I'm hot!"

"You'll get cold later."

She took his hand and pressed it to her heart. "You'll keep me warm."

"No—"

"Yes! I feel like shit and the only thing that's going to make me feel better is your arms around me." Tonks raised his hand to her lips. "Stay."

Remus backed away to unbutton his robes. "If you'll wear my shirt."

"You'll have to dress me."

He shook his head, smiling.

A short while later they were lying together in the dark, facing each other on their sides. "This isn't the way I wanted to cuddle with you," she said, "but I'm glad you're here. I love you."

"I love you, too."

She scooted closer. "Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?"

Remus took so long to answer, Tonks wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

"Yes," he breathed against her lips, before covering her mouth in a long, sweet, kiss.

-

A/N: Sometimes I outline chapters. This one, I knew how I wanted it to start, but the rest came as I wrote, and turned out as Tonks' pov. Remus will have his turn next time, when he deals with Tonks not contacting him...and why... (Hums Blue Christmas) Jerry's cologne I based on two David Beckham eau de toilette sprays, Intimacy and Instinct, in homage to readers who have suspected Jerry of wanting intimacy with Tonks for some time now; you have good instincts. (Ba-dum-bum)

The "potion" slipped into Tonks' drink was based on the date rape drug gamma hydroxy-butyric, (GHB). It's odourless, colourless, and very hard to taste when added to food or drink. It takes effect quickly, resulting in euphoria and disinhibition, mimicking alcohol intoxication in early stages and carrying the risk of nasty, even fatal, side effects. One of the lesser-known street names for it is Get-Her-To-Bed. If anyone reads this chapter and makes a vow never to take a "complimentary" drink from a stranger in a pub or leave a drink unattended on a bar, I'll be a happy writer!

I took the cider description from a Canadian brand called "Mystique". I don't drink, so I have to look stuff up. Hope no one sees my search history and thinks I have drug and alcohol problems. :D The "wizard-punk" song bears an uncanny resemblance to Shut Up by Simple Plan. Anyone who hasn't heard it can look it up on youtube.

The readers who have names that inspire characters (tambrathegreat) and whose reviews were my drugs of choice last chapter (talk about a natural high, heh) were...40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, bookworm1102, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, EllaQueenB , ElspethBates, flutterby162, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, ishandtwofourths, Kates Master, Lady Adrienne Faery, (the artist formerly known as Gutter and Grace :D) loveformoony, Ladyofthebookworms, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley, Operamuse, potteronpotluvhim, Slipknot-3113, Siriusblack18, siriuslycoco, sofia666, sunny9847, SunshineDaisies816, tambrathegreat, vintagejgc, Writer Merrin, xLupinxLoverx, and Ziroana.