Dumbledore didn't react the way Remus had feared. He wasn't angry or upset.

He shrugged.

"The mission was always a long shot, undertaken at great odds in the hope of commensurate reward." Dumbledore glanced at the teapot on the desk. It rose into the air and poured tea without spilling a drop. "You accomplished more than I expected, and Nymphadora's actions, while hasty, were not entirely ill-advised."

Remus declined milk and sugar. Black, without sweetener, suited his present frame of mind. "I survived punishment before."

"You were younger, and Fenrir Greyback still believed you could be moulded into his image." With a flick of a finger, Dumbledore levitated a third cube of sugar to his teacup. "I highly doubt Fenrir holds further delusions on that score." His eyes twinkled. "At least not once he awoke to find you missing."

"I didn't want to leave," Remus said. "I wanted to teach werewolves to think for themselves."

"The best academics are quiet subversives; nothing would change in their subjects if they were not—something I learned from Professor Scattergood, my Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." Dumbledore smiled. "You taught them. Never doubt it."

Remus nodded, yet inwardly doubted everything from his teaching ability to his judgment: especially when, after leaving the office, he went to the dungeons instead of Hogsmeade.

Severus took so long to answer the door; Remus had turned to leave.

"Yes?" Severus asked, with all the enthusiasm of a man confronted by a door-to-door salesperson.

Remus was blunt. "Did you help Nymphadora?"

"In what way?"

"If you did, you know exactly in what way," Remus said tightly.

Severus' expression was inscrutable. "Ask her yourself."

"I did."

"She didn't tell you?"

"No." It pained Remus to admit it.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "So you came here to—what? Accuse me of helpfulness?"

"You had no right to bypass Dumbledore," Remus said with deliberate calm. "No right to—"

"Is there a point to this rambling?" Severus cut in. "I have a right to spend my holiday as I see fit, and I do not choose to waste time listening to you."

Remus took a deep breath to keep his temper in check and detected an unusual—yet familiar—bittersweet scent. "Are you brewing a potion?"

"No."

"It's very pungent." Remus remembered Nymphadora bending down to kiss him. Her hair exuded a scent very different from her usual fragrances: sage instead of fruit or flowers. There had to be a logical explanation for the coincidence. "Is it your shampoo?" he asked. "Does the apothecary stock it in the village?" Nymphadora was fond of bargains.

"I make my own. Private formula."

The taunting words echoed in Remus' mind. There was no coincidence. Nymphadora had used Severus' private formula shampoo. She stood naked in his shower and . . . . Remus turned on his heel and walked away.

A huffing sound echoed against stone.

Severus was laughing.

Once Remus left school grounds, he Apparated to Nymphadora's room. She sat on the bed hugging a pillow to her chest.

When she saw him, her face lit up. "Remus!"

"Meet me at the Shrieking Shack," he said, and Apparated.

He was leaning a shoulder against the wall, contemplating the circle drawn in chalk on the floorboards when Nymphadora burst into the first floor bedroom. The only light shone through the cracks between the planks nailed across the windows, but it was more than enough for him to see the apprehension on her face.

"What did Dumbledore say? I ruined some grand scheme, didn't I?"

"The mission was never more than a gamble," Remus said. "He's content that I accomplished more than he thought I would."

"But You-Know-Who plans to use the werewolves—"

"As a threat, nothing more."

She crossed the room to hug him. "I'm sorry."

The scent of her hair kept Remus from holding Nymphadora tight and letting the warmth of her body sink into his. He said, "I also talked to Severus."

"You did? Why?"

If he were a Legilimens, what would he see beyond the wariness in her eyes? "He's the one you went to, isn't he?"

Her gaze pleaded for understanding. "I can't say."

"Was that a condition? You had to pledge not to tell?"

"I can't say. You're safe now. That's all that matters."

Remus took her face in his hands. "It matters what you did to receive help. What payment you gave."

"I did nothing illegal, immoral, or unethical."

The terms of her pact with Severus, Remus presumed. If he was supposed to be reassured, he wasn't. "According to whom?" he asked. "Whose morals? Whose ethics?"

"Mine." Her tone was hopeful instead of confident.

Remus kissed her forehead. "Nymphadora, Nymphadora . . . what have you done?"

Her smile was lopsided. "I rescued you."

"You ruined the mission."

"But Dumbledore said—"

"He wasn't there, he doesn't understand. Even as Omega, I would have made a difference."

"You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough."

She reached up and kissed the corner of his lips. "It was. You'll see."

A volatile mix of desire, frustration, and possessiveness drove Remus to cover her mouth in a bruising kiss. Part of him expected her to stiffen and pull away. His pulse sped up when Nymphadora wriggled closer.

He was so tempted. "Not like this." Even to his ears, the protest was half-hearted.

Her hands caressed boldly. "The floor is comfort-charmed."

Remus kissed her passionately, giving in to the primal need to claim his mate.

Only after his heart rate slowed and his body cooled did Remus realise exactly where they had made love. "We're inside the circle of protection."

Snuggled against his side, Nymphadora said, "It's the only dust-free space in the room."

"It was drawn to contain an animal." The things they'd done flashed into Remus' mind. He sat up and raked a hand through his hair. "And I took you like one."

Nymphadora rose to her knees beside him. "I was with you all the way and I love your animal side."

"I know." That was the joy and the hell of it. He draped his cloak around her shoulders and rose to gather his clothes.

Nymphadora followed his lead and dressed. "Come to my room," she said. "I'll find some food and we can talk."

"Dumbledore advised me to go to Grimmauld Place and lay low. I told him I'd leave straightaway." He smiled mirthlessly. "Another promise I've broken."

"He had to have known you would see me first. He's not that old. Anyway," she said, "it's just a few hours. Where's the harm?"

Remus tied a shoelace stretched to the point of fraying: a symbol of his emotions. "I don't have many possessions," he said, "but I do have honour, and every time I break my word I do irreparable damage—" He took his cloak and put it on, unable to finish.

A tear slipped down Nymphadora's cheek. "I'm sorry."

He didn't doubt her sincerity, that she was distressed to have caused pain. What she failed to understand was how deeply her actions affected him. She put love above everything.

"I have to go," he said.

She bit her lip. "Will you use your mirror later?"

Remus hesitated. He didn't want to talk about things that couldn't be changed.

"At least to say goodnight." Her voice trembled.

He nodded and left.

Muffled sobs followed Remus like vengeful spirits, chasing him from the house and lingering in his thoughts as he travelled to London. Once inside the Grim Old Place, as Sirius had called it, a legion of memories took over the haunting.

Nymphadora sprawled on the floor of the entry after she knocked over the umbrella stand . . . Sirius and Cami cuddled on the sofa in the drawing room . . . Kreacher muttering in the shadows . . . Harry and Ron assisting him to repair the Grandfather clock . . . Buckbeak craning his neck to peer into the master bathroom when Remus and Nymphadora splashed water out of the tub . . . members of The Order assembled at the kitchen table . . ..

He roamed the house from basement to attic remembering the past, too hollow and numb to cry. Remus didn't bother to look for food. He wasn't hungry. He was tired, a weariness of soul as much as body. The library had a fireplace to provide warmth and books to distract his mind so he decided to camp out on the sofa.

Remus slept until a man's acerbic voice jolted him awake.

"I said I have other things to do than travel hither and fro between portraits, so if you would have the decency to rouse from your stupor I shall impart the message which was foisted upon me and be gone."

Remus sat up, disoriented. Aside from magical flames in the fireplace, the room was dark. He used a spell to light the illumination orbs in the room and looked at the clock on the mantel. It was past nine. He had slept through the day and into the night.

He looked at the painting of castle ruins above the mantel. In the foreground, a green robed wizard with a pointy beard asked impatiently, "Are you coherent, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus rubbed his eyes. They were dry and gritty. "Semi," he said.

"That is more than several of your former colleagues can boast." The wizard curled his lip. "Standards have lowered since my days as Headmaster."

Recognition stirred. "You're Phineas Nigellus Black."

"Lowered grievously," Phineas muttered before saying, "Albus Dumbledore bids me to inform you Kreacher has delivered supplies to the kitchen, and that if you desire to leave the premises, it would be wise to use an Appearance Charm." He promptly vanished from the painting.

Remus' stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten all day, but there was something he had to do. He retrieved the communication mirror from his pocket.

Nymphadora's face appeared instantly. "I packed the clothes you'd stored in my trunk with a few books and your journal. Dumbledore said Kreacher would deliver the bag with the food he was bringing from the kitchens." She looked at him anxiously. "Did you get everything?"

"I haven't checked," he said. "I slept until a few minutes ago." Remus noticed that her eyes were shiny. Complexion Charms only removed the effects of tears. They couldn't ward off new ones. He said, "Did Dumbledore ask questions about the rescue?"

"Yes, but I didn't answer. He wasn't pleased and I wasn't offered a toffee." She laughed shortly. "Afterwards, I patrolled the school and every portrait stared at me in disapproval."

"How did you explain that to Jerry?"

"I didn't," she said.

Something was off. "He wasn't curious?"

"He wasn't there."

Remus' stomach chose that moment to growl so loudly Nymphadora heard it.

She said, "You need to eat and I have to patrol at the crack of dawn so I'll say goodnight. I love you."

Her voice was soft, almost fearful. Did she worry he wouldn't say the words in return? "I love you," he said. "Sweet dreams."

-

Tonks placed the communication mirror beneath her pillow and used a spell to darken the illumination orb on the bedside table. She hugged Remus' pillow and closed her eyes.

He loves me, he smiled at me, he'll forgive me. She silently chanted the words like a mantra.

It didn't help her sleep.

What if he found out about Jerry? Would Remus believe that she hadn't told him because it hadn't been important compared to everything else that was going on, or would he think she was hiding yet another secret? "I'll tell you," Tonks whispered, "the next time we talk." She clutched the pillow tighter. "I'll make things right."

She didn't get the chance. The next evening Remus was distracted, brusque. He had decided to inventory the library to see if any of the books could be of use to help the Order. His mind was on his task.

"My new mission," he said wryly. "It's going to be a labour of Hercules."

"Want some help? Dawlish might—"

"Perhaps after I've finished sorting," Remus said. "I'll give you a progress report each night."

It was painfully obvious that he wanted space and he wanted to be the one who decided when they would see each other. Tonks forced a smile. For someone who tried to repress his animal nature, Remus was acting like his wolf, expecting her to submit to his dominance.

Over the next week, she stayed in her room each night; mirror perched on the bed beside her as she waited to hear Remus' voice call her name. She felt like a Muggle teenager hovering near the telephone, willing it to ring.

She went through bottles of nail varnish and every magazine and paperback in the apothecary shop, painting her nails a different colour every day and reading to fill the hours. Remus was so preoccupied; she wondered how he remembered to keep in touch. When he grew sleepy?

He brought her up to date on his progress, named the books he planned to include in the reference library, asked her how her day had gone, and then said goodnight. The superficial chats weren't the kind that led to heart-to-heart conversation. Tonks tried her best to be cheerful and lovingly supportive, to show that she respected his need to contribute and be useful. She told herself that the emotional distance between them was temporary, and when he came to her or she visited him, that was when they would connect and share.

Ten days after Remus walked out of the Shrieking Shack, he surprised Tonks by contacting her during her afternoon patrol of the school.

She ducked behind the statue of David the Daft, out of the way of students hurrying to Arithmancy. "Wotcher, love!" She grinned down at the mirror. Was today the day he was coming to see her?

Remus said, "I went for a walk this morning along our old running path."

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. He wasn't smiling.

"I saw Jerry," he said.

Shite. Shite. Shite. "Are you sure?"

"He was running with Cami."

"That's good," she said. "I'm glad they have each other as friends."

Remus' gaze was searching. "Why didn't you tell me Jerry transferred back to London?"

Oh, Merlin, this was not the way she'd planned to tell him. What could she say to make him understand? "You had so much to deal with I didn't want you to worry."

His jaw tightened.

"I wasn't hiding an affair," she said. "I planned to tell you—"

"When?"

"The day I asked you to come to my room and talk."

Remus looked sceptical. "We talk every night."

Frustration sharpened her voice. "By mirror, about books and patrols, and half the time I wonder if you're even listening to me! It's not the same! It isn't in person!"

At that moment, on the other side of the statue, a male voice said, "All right, that's enough. Stop fighting and go to class before you earn detention."

Tonks called out, "Prefect Whoever-You-Are, I'm not a student, and if you don't mind your own business, I'll have Professor Snape give you detention—for the rest of the year!"

"Auror Tonks! Beg pardon." Footsteps scurried away.

Remus said, "You've given the boy the wrong impression. He believes you're quarrelling with Severus."

"Stars and stones, I didn't mean to." She thought of Jerry and sighed. "I never mean to."

"I believe that."

"But you're still angry."

"I—I don't know exactly what I feel."

Tonks' stomach did another free fall. "You talked to Jerry?"

"I followed them," Remus said, "and when they stopped to stretch—" His lips turned down at the corners. "Jerry was quite candid."

A litany of curses ran through her mind. "What did he say?"

"You kissed him."

Tonks gasped. Jerry was supposed to be her friend! "I can't believe he told you that," she said. "I was out of my head. I dreamt you were there."

"And you hurt yourself."

Ruddy hell! "That was an accident, I didn't realise how sharp werewolf claws really are."

"Pomfrey said you could have died."

"I didn't," Tonks said. "I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Come see for yourself. I'll ask Dawlish for the rest of the day off. We'll work things out."

Remus shook his head. "I need more time."

"At the weekend, then?"

"I'm not sure."

His flat tone scared her. In wolf form, she would have crawled on the floor on her belly whimpering, desperate to appease. "Okay. Whatever you need," she said. "I'll volunteer for an extra patrol or something to keep busy." She didn't want to ask, but couldn't stop herself. "Will you still contact me every night?"

His eyes dropped. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "Not for awhile."

"But you'll keep the mirror with you. For emergencies." For her, because if he didn't, if he rejected the chance of any possible communication—

"Yes. I'll keep it with me."

Tonks sat clutching the mirror, long after it stopped reflecting his face. She felt empty, numb. Eventually, she stood and resumed her patrol. At the end, she walked down to the dungeons.

Students climbed the steps. Freed from their last class of the day, their voices echoed against the stone in a cheerful din that matched the yellow stripes of their scarves and ties. She drifted through them like a wraith through a swarm of bumblebees. A few slanted curious looks her way, but no one spoke to her. Thank Merlin. She had no smiles to give—not even fake ones.

When she entered the dungeon classroom, the teacher looked up from the parchment he was reading. "Yes, Auror Tonks? May I help you?"

She blinked. Why had she come here? Slughorn taught Potions now, not Snape. "I . . . have some free time," she said. "Do you need any assistance?"

Slughorn ran a finger along his silvery moustache. "I do have rather a long list of thank you notes to write—so many former students send me Christmas gifts it takes months to acknowledge them all properly." He languidly waved a hand at the parchment she'd thought a student essay and then pointed to a narrow table at the back of the room. "There are second-years Hair Raising Solutions to be tested. It only requires a drop to determine efficacy."

Tonks moved to a table crowded with flagons and removed the stopper from the first sample. She picked up the dropper. A few seconds later, the fine hair on her arm rose as if by static.

"Quill and parchment are located at the other end of the table," Slughorn called out genially.

She wrote down the name of the student. Pattinson, R. Most likely Richard or Robert, but she couldn't help thinking of another name that began with R. Tears scalded her cheeks as she reached for another potion. "Professor, do I n—need to use a cleaning spell on the dropper between tests?"

"No, my dear."

Tonks cried as silently as possible, but there was no way to disguise sniffs. Before she was halfway done, she heard the scrape of wood against stone. She kept her head down as Slughorn left. He couldn't stand listening to her anymore, and who could blame him? At least he didn't ask her to go. Strange as it was, testing the potions made her feel a little less crappy.

She was about to test the last potion when the sound of creaking caused her to fumble the dropper and accidentally squirt her left eyebrow. Tonks peered upward. The hairs stood on end. "Oh, what the hell." She squirted her right eyebrow and faced the door. "I'm rockin' the Professor Sinistra look," she said and froze. The man watching her was Snape, not Slughorn.

"Her brows are not so protuberant." He glided over, flagon in hand.

"Yeah they are," she said. "We'd snigger whenever she'd ask, 'Who can name that star?' She's like a big, stern owl."

The corners of thin lips twitched. "Drink this."

"A Calming Draught?" She downed it. "Why'd Slughorn fetch you to give it to me?"

"He believed the cause of your distress should alleviate it."

"Oh, Merlin, Pomfrey's been gossiping . . . or the ghosts . . . or the elves," Tonks said with a smile. Artificial serenity was almost as good as the real thing. She marked Rathbone, J's success with a flourish. "How do you stand it?" The gossip, the loneliness of separation from the one he loved.

Snape didn't answer and she didn't blame him. It was none of her business. "I'm sorry," Tonks said. She gave a small laugh. "I'm always saying that."

Images flashed before her mind's eye. Ducking behind the statue . . . Remus' grave expression . . . her dazed stare reflected in the mirror . . . the mild surprise on Slughorn's face . . . Tonks didn't try to look away. She wanted someone to understand how she felt without having to say the words.

The mental slideshow abruptly ended. "Stop," Snape said.

Stop what? Dumping her memories on him? Thinking with her heart instead of her head? Wanting life to be different? "I can't."

Unless it was her imagination—which was entirely possible—Snape's eyes gleamed with pity.

-

Three days passed before Remus used his communication mirror. He might have held out for another day or two if it hadn't been for the dreams. Vivid and increasingly disturbing, he would have interpreted them as repressed longings if he and Nymphadora had been in human form. Instead, they were wolves.

And it was mating season.

On the third night, he awoke gasping, heart pounding. In the darkness of the library, he sat with his head in his hands. If the dream had continued—he refused to think about it. He had to act.

His cloak doubled as an extra blanket. It took but a moment to remove the mirror from a pocket. "Nymphadora."

After a minute, her face appeared. Her smile was sleepy. "Remus, I was just dreaming about you."

His body reacted to the sensual timbre of her voice even as his jaw clenched. "Me or the wolf?"

"You are the wolf," she said. "And when you're furry I'm furry too. I thought you accepted that."

"I thought you would never allow it to be mating season."

Her face flushed pink. "Wolves are affectionate."

"And right before copulation they whip their tails in each other's faces and the female releases hormones—don't tell me that didn't happen," he said when she started to speak. "I smelled it." The excitement that gripped the wolf paralysed the man until the animal started to mount his mate. If Remus hadn't awakened, would dreams of multicoloured werepups have followed?

He recoiled from the mental image. "I don't want any more of those dreams."

"I didn't plan them," she said. "It isn't my fault your wolf wants to be with me more than you do."

Now he was the one confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I hasn't just been dreams," she said. "I've experimented with astral travel." Her lips trembled. "Do you even remember my visits?"

Remus? Is your spirit awake?

"Fragments," he said. "Snatches of dreams."

Reach out. Pull yourself free.

"They were real," she said, "but it's never the man who plays with me beneath the stars." She released a quivering breath. "Your wolf is the part of you that knows nothing is more important than being together."

How could he argue duty and sacrifice against such passionate conviction? Remus said, "It isn't that simple."

"It can be."

"No, it can't," he said. "This war—and my condition—are realities I have to deal with every day. I will never be free."

"Don't say that."

Her eyes filled with tears as if he'd said they could never marry. The instant the thought crossed his mind, heaviness settled onto Remus. He rubbed his chest, pressed the heel of his palm into his skin. It didn't relieve the pressure. "I'm sorry."

"No," she said, "We're—we're different and we see things differently and that's all right, no couple agrees on everything." She wiped her eyes and gave a wobbly smile. "We'll get through this. I—I'll return the jade Annis gave me for dreaming and give you all the space you need, and you can contact me anytime." She kissed the mirror. "I love you. Goodnight."

"I love you," Remus said, too late. The mirror showed only his reflection.

He did his best to fill his hours with reading and long walks whenever he wasn't working on cataloguing, cleaning and reorganising the books. If he dreamed at night, they were the ordinary—sometimes embarrassing—dreams of a man who missed his lover. A few times, on rainy, cold nights, he gave into the need to see Nymphadora's face, but he kept their conversations brief.

On the morning of the full moon, he used the mirror to contact Nymphadora—four days since they'd last spoken. She put a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn. "Good morning, love. I think I'm going to change sleeping potions. This one leaves me feeling like something a Kneazle dragged in."

"Why are you using a sleeping potion? Didn't you return the jade?"

She slapped her palm to her forehead. "I can't believe I let that slip." Her expression was rueful. "Yeah, I did, but Annis said once two people establish a psychic connection they no longer need a focus, so I—uh—decided to prevent any accidental dream walking."

His conscience stung. "Prolonged use can't be good for you," he said. "If you have any more of that potion, throw it out."

Her smile was like the sunrise, warm and dazzling.

"I'll stop by the apothecary today," Remus said. "And tonight I'll be the one to use a sleeping potion."

Her smile faltered. "Oh—okay. I got permission to spend the night in London," she said. "Does this mean you don't want me to visit?"

"I'll be sleeping," he said gently.

"Then I'll see you when you wake up." She bit her lip. "It's been so long."

Almost a month. He couldn't say no. He was too weak. "All right."

Her face lit up. "I'll get Mrs. McPhee to spell-dye my hair. What colour do you fancy?"

He chuckled. It felt rusty, yet good. "Surprise me."

Later, inside the circle of protection drawn on attic floorboards, Remus bound himself in chains and removed the stopper from the flagon of sleeping potion. There were barely enough links in the chain between his wrists to allow him to drink. As he sank to the floor, the image of a wolf rose before his mind's eye. The creature stared at him with a burning gaze. Remus said, "No dreams for you tonight."

The wolf bared his teeth. In his remaining seconds of consciousness, Remus heard a low snarl.

-

Soft noises roused the wolf from the depths of slumber. He opened heavy eyes to meet the gaze of his mate in human form. In a heartbeat, he was transported from the cave of dead wood to a bed of leaves in a forest clearing. His mate chuffed a greeting and rubbed her muzzle against his. He remained lying on his side until she took his muzzle in her mouth. Memories surfaced and brought him scrambling to his feet.

The season was wrong. There should be snow, not falling leaves.

His mate nuzzled his side and began to groom his fur. He drew in her scent, licking the air. She darted away and trotted back, tail wagging. She wanted to play.

The wolf barked and ran into the forest. He heard his mate follow as he headed for the place of strangeness. When snow lay on the ground, the place of strangeness held a circle of new grass and warm breezes. Now that the moon had shifted in the sky, the circle might also have shifted into the time of mating.

He burst through the underbrush and into the clearing. Leaves drifted down from the forest to carpet the ground around a circle of fresh-fallen snow. He leapt into the centre and rolled from side to side like a pup, barking for his mate to join him.

She remained beyond the circle, crouched down, muzzle buried in her paws.

He pulled his ears back and squinted. Why did she not obey?

His mate whimpered.

He stuck his ears straight up and bared his teeth.

Slowly, she crawled forward.

The moment his mate's paw touched snow, it became hairless.

He growled.

She backed away and regained her true form.

The wolf stood for a moment breathing in the icy air and then joined his mate. Inside the circle, snow melted.

Across the clearing, snowflakes began to fall.

-

A/N: National Novel Writing Month is over and I have an original novel I'm not going to look at until January (there's a link on my profile page if anyone wants to read the excerpt), so I thought it would be the perfect time to finish this story. I planned for 30 to be the last chapter, but as I wrote…and wrote…and wrote…I realised that to do the story justice, I would have to stop someplace interesting, heh, and finish another time.

The Professor Scattergood quoted is an actual professor. I found the quote first, looked to see who said it, and couldn't resist using his name. He's an Irish Muggle . . . or so we're led to believe.

I haven't read the books or seen the film, but for the Twilight fans among my readers, I did indeed use actor names for students. To the end, I will have fun with names!

Special thanks to Mollycoddles for her input this chapter. Who needs a Christmas angel when you have a beta-extraordinaire? :D

The readers whose reviews last chapter made me miss feedback more than my inner editor these last weeks were...alix33, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, ChristinaAngel, ElspethBates, floss bucket, Her My Own EE, ishandtwofourths, Kates Master, ladyofthecelticland, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Rose of the West, slipknot-3113, sunny9847, tambrathegreat (hey, the site shows icons so I saw you participated in nano too!), WriterMerrin, and Ziroana.