Part Two

Remus Side-along Apparated Tonks to the Hog's Head tavern instead of directly to her room. Aberforth needed to be told about his brother, Remus thought, if he hadn't got word already; Tonks, not unsympathetically, argued that one of the Aurors stationed in Hogsmeade would have done.

She was right, they discovered, upon entering the pub and finding it vacant. The bleating of goats lured them out the back door, which stood ajar. Aberforth sat hunched against the side of the building, nursing a Firewhiskey, and holding audience with a bearded goat that was wearing a purple star-spangled wizard's hat.

Part of Remus wanted to laugh, because he could just see Dumbledore's bright blue eyes twinkling behind the lenses of his half-moon spectacles while a knowing smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. But Dumbledore was not here to be amused by this strange tribute. His blue eyes would never open again, his mouth never smile, his sage voice never quip. He was not just a fallen leader, but a lost brother, as well.

Aberforth's expression glazed over as he drank, and his long fingers stroked the goat's beard almost reverently. A swell of pity made Remus stand very close to Tonks. He was reduced to a platitude condolence for Aberforth's loss, which included an assurance that Dumbledore would be sorely missed by the entire Wizarding community.

"Not enou' ol' goats like Albus i'the world," Aberforth slurred, and turned away, hunkering down into his robes, the brim of his hat falling over his eyes.

A tug on his sleeve, and Remus looked down at Tonks, drawn to her glassy, purple-rimmed eyes, which shone from her pale face in the moonlight.

"Let's go to bed," she whispered.

Remus knew she meant go to bed and sleep, but he barely felt the pull of Tonks Apparating them to her room upstairs as he considered the implications of those words. To lie in bed with her, to hold her…

Over the course of the past year, he had learnt to ignore that ache that always gnawed at him at night, during his darkest days underground, just as he had learnt to ignore the hunger pangs that gripped his belly. Now the increasingly more real thoughts that he had not lost her, that he would be able to fall into her open arms and without guilt find his way back where he belonged -- back home -- made something deep inside him go warm and light. A current of energy surged out from it, quickening his heart, strengthening his limbs, pricking his toes and fingertips.

Her fingers were working methodically at the buttons of her robes. Remus, senses so acute in the moment of desire, keenly aware of the bed dominating the small, shabby room, resisted the impulse to help her off with her clothes. Her uncharacteristically deliberate movements told of a struggle for control, an uncertainty about what was happening between them, a lack of trust in his earlier words.

Remus inhaled, deeply.

He exhaled, slowly.

Need subsided.

Head clear, he considered what Tonks must be thinking, as she stared at the bed: she had to be remembering the other time he'd come to her here after a tragedy -- Greyback's savage killing of the little Montgomery child -- desperate to feel alive, and human.

Remus had made no promises that night, and yet he'd managed to make Tonks believe they could be together.

He'd used her.

Maybe not technically, since he had realised in time that going to bed with Tonks under those circumstances would not be an act of love. But there was no question that he had broken faith with her.

Regaining her trust, restoring their relationship, would take time.

The knowledge didn't change the fact that the woman Remus loved was, apparently, going to undress in front of him. The obvious solution for reining in his pesky desires was to turn away and go about his own business of getting ready for bed, but something held him back. He focused on a tear in her shoulder seam, and made a mental note to mend it for her later.

Tonks' robes fell suddenly to the floor, and she stepped over the crumpled garment en route to her bureau.

"Oh," said Remus as she drew out a pair of midnight blue pyjamas with a pattern of fluffy sheep jumping over picket fences. "I haven't anything to change into…"

Tonks reached into the drawer again and pulled out a lurid green bundle. Wordlessly, she unfurled a camisole with neon plaid bottoms. One of her dark eyebrows arched, and the corner of her mouth quirked upward.

"Molly's been trying to put meat on my bones," said Remus, "but I am afraid I never will have the shoulders for spaghetti straps."

Though he jumped slightly at her shriek of laughter, Remus' blood surged hotly through his body at the way her eyes lit up. His low chuckle mingling with her laugh, he reached out to brush the backs of his fingers across her faintly pink cheek.

At his touch, Tonks' laughter instantly died. Her smile lingered, however, and her eyes darkened with impenetrable depth. Clutching the pyjamas in the hand that hung at her side, her other small hand covered Remus'; he unbent his fingers as she pressed his palm to her face.

"That was such a Remus thing to say."

His breath hitched as he recalled Tonks' words from months before: that she could get through the business of war knowing she could come home to him, where he would hold her and say "Remus things."

She asked so little of him. So very little. It was difficult to believe it could be enough.

He wanted to believe it could be.

He had so little to offer her, but he could give her what she asked.

Perhaps he could give her more.

He traced her cheekbone with his thumb. She watched him unblinkingly, until he brushed his thumb over her full lower lip.

Her eyelids fluttered closed.

His heart beat wildly --

-- only to go absolutely still as her lips parted just enough that the tip of his thumb was momentarily cocooned in the light, moist warmth of her mouth.

He leant in toward her. She kept hold of his hand as his fingers moved down to her chin, tilting her face up to his. Both caught their breath as his lips slid onto her mouth where his thumb had been.

Dear Merlin. When had they last kissed like this? Her lips were so soft, so yielding, responding to him with the tenderness and care with which she always treated him. Yet there was a firmness to her kiss, too, which spoke to Remus of her forgiveness and her acceptance of him -- just as he was -- and her love; he tried, if such a thing was possible, to give back to her a measure of the hope she'd filled him with.

Abruptly, Tonks broke away. Her hand fell to her side as she stepped back. Her eyes had gone very wide, dazed looking, and just a little overwhelmed. Remus watched her kneel and fish her wand from the robes she'd shed, then she transfigured the garish pyjamas into a man's pair.

They were identical to his favourite set, pale blue, light cotton, which--

Standing, Tonks held out the pyjama bottoms to him, appearing perfectly calm now except for a trembling hand. The other clutched the shirt to her chest. Keeping it for herself. As she had done so endearingly last summer, the first night he'd stayed at her flat after Sirius died.

They had shared one pair of pyjamas between them.

It was such a simple gesture, yet conveyed such depth of meaning -- so much more than any words could in this moment. They could go back, almost to where they'd left off. Things weren't the same between them; there was broken trust...But through her affectionate act, Tonks was giving Remus the chance to put right what he'd made wrong. The knowing glint in her eyes confirmed that she was consciously doing it; she, too, held that memory of shared pyjamas dearly.

Swallowing a lump that had lodged in his throat, Remus quickly unbuttoned his robes. He let them fall to the floor, then kicked them into a pile with Tonks'.

Smiling, Tonks peeled off her t-shirt, revealing a deep plum-coloured bra. Remus, touched by her total un-guardedness, began to unbutton his own shirt --

-- but the connection between his brain and his fingers was disrupted when she bent to unlace her boots and gave him a plain view of the hollow between her breasts. Her fair skin was like porcelain against that jewel-toned bra; kicking off her shoes, Tonks unzipped her jeans to reveal matching knickers that hugged the curves of her hips and bottom.

As she straightened to step out of her trousers, and caught him staring, Remus flushed. Tonks, however, looked pleased -- if a little surprised -- to catch him. Reminded again how Tonks' confidence in her appearance had faltered in light of her inability to morph, Remus kept his eyes fixed steadily on her as he undressed and folded his clothes on top of the bureau.

A strange magic energised the air in the room. The tingling sensation, the breathlessness, a stomach-dropping sensation, as felt when one swooped downward on a broom from a great height, reminded Remus of the way he had felt at various passionate moments with Tonks. But they had never been together quite like this.

In the brief time they'd shared her flat, they'd undressed in front of each other. Earlier than that in their relationship, articles of clothing had been removed during particularly heated encounters. The intimacy of both situations had stemmed naturally from knowing exactly where they stood with one another, out of a long engendered, carefully cultivated trust.

The process of reconciliation, however, seemed to be happening in reverse, as though the emotional could not be addressed until every layer -- including the physical layers -- was stripped away.

But…that didn't mean they should immediately leap into a physical relationship, did it?

Remus stepped slowly into the pyjama bottoms as he let his scrutinising gaze travel over Tonks' slender form. She was exhausted. She'd been the one to break their kiss, after just a moment. She couldn't--

He forgot to breathe.

Still holding him with her dark eyes, Tonks reached around behind to unclasp her bra.

Her breasts jiggled as she released them from the supporting garment --

-- and as she laughed, gleaming eyes darting downward.

Remus followed her gaze and flushed: he'd stepped both legs into one opening of the trousers.

"Fancy yourself a mermaid?" Tonks asked through her laughter.

"There are mermen!" Remus shot her a mock glare through his fringe. Returning his attention to the awkward task of drawing one leg out of the pyjama bottoms without losing his balance, he mustered as much dignity as was possible and said, "Anyway, it's hardly fair to ask a man to do anything properly when there's a perfect pair of breasts in his face."

"They weren't in your face!"

Tonks' laughter belied her, and Remus, the correct number of one limb per trouser leg now, looked up eagerly as he tightened the drawstring at the waist.

He was delighted to see that, once again, and if the soft flush on her cheeks was any indication, she looked pleased by the compliment he'd paid her -- but the perfect breasts were covered by the blue pyjama shirt she was buttoning.

"Come on," she said through a yawn, turning and striding toward the bathroom; at least he'd a pleasant view of her purple knickers. "I think I've got a spare toothbrush."

"Or I could conjure one," said Remus hoarsely, not moving to follow her, because he felt light-headed and wrong-footed.

The sound of a drawer sliding open, then of Tonks rifling through it, drifted out from the bathroom. "Nope," her voice echoed. "Got one." Her face, pixie-like despite her fatigue, appeared from around the doorframe. "Unless you've an aversion to glittery pink?"

Remus picked his way around her discarded clothes, eyes lingering on the bra, and crowded himself with her into the mouldy bathroom. He winced as the floor beneath his feet shifted from carpet to cold tile. His fingers brushed hers as he took the toothbrush from her.

"I am not, in the least, averse to pink. You know I adore it."

Tonks seemed to shrink a little as her gaze wandered from his, settling vacantly over his shoulder. "I wish I'd more pink than a toothbrush."

Remus marvelled at the absence of accusation from her voice, which, instead of making him feel guilty, heightened the sense of responsibility that had filled him during their confrontation on the Hogwarts stairs.

He smoothed her mussed hair, then dipped his head to kiss her temple before trailing his lips down along her cheekbone. "You will have."

She gave him a small, hopeful smile, and gave her head a curt nod of agreement.

They took turns at the sink to brush their teeth and wash their faces, falling easily into the routine they'd established in those days of living together, almost as if they had never been separated at all. Remus had forgotten how comforting and intimate he'd thought it to do something as mundane as brushing his teeth with her. This was what had made Sirius' death so much more bearable than James'. How would it have been to look forward to visits home with this civilised normalcy during his stint underground?

Finishing in the bathroom, they put out the light and shuffled the few paces to the bed. As they turned down the covers together, gazes meeting furtively across the bed, Remus had a sensation of being a clueless schoolboy again. The air, thickening and crackling as though a powerful spell had been cast in the room, was stifling. What did Tonks expect when they slid beneath the sheets together? He recalled feeling a bit like this last summer at her flat. Then, Remus had decided to follow Tonks' lead. He supposed that must be the proper course of action now.

Though the bed was unmade, Tonks did not climb into it. She remained standing beside it, shoulders were hunched in a protective stance, and she chewed her lower lip.

"We don't have to share," said Remus, half-swallowing the words, shifting his weight. "I promise, Tonks, I will not give a repeat performance of...of how I treated you last March...I will not leave you again. But I understand, if you'd rather wait till we've talked about..."

Without looking up, Tonks said in low tones, "Every morning I woke up hoping you'd live through the day. And every night I went to bed not knowing if you had."

His concern over sleeping arrangements seemed trivial, indeed, as a few strides brought him around the bed to comfort Tonks in this much graver distress.

Slipping his arms around her waist, he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm alive tonight, Nymphadora. I'll be holding you when I fall asleep, and I'll be lying next to you when you awake."

Tonks tried to smile, but didn't quite.

Her eyes were much too old.

"I saw you almost die tonight," she said, shakily. "That killing curse—"

"—missed me," Remus finished for her, pressing his fingers to her lips.

He knew exactly how she felt. This was so like last year at St. Mungo's, when it was Tonks who'd had a brush of death. She'd asked him if he loved her, and he nearly hadn't told her, because it didn't seem fair. How could one make promises, when there were no guarantees? Tomorrow's aim might well be true.

That was the risk of love, and what they were fighting for.

Tomorrow's curse could aim for her --

-- but tonight he could sleep with her in his arms.

He was sick of wasting time.

It was probably one of the million things they needed to discuss, but now was not the time for words. Instead, Remus dropped another kiss onto Tonks' mouth. Sliding his hands down over her bottom, he cupped underneath to lift her onto the bed. Tonks scooted across to the opposite side of the mattress, and Remus pulled the duvet up over them as he slipped in beside her.

Immediately, Tonks snuggled up next against him, and Remus sighed deeply, every muscle in his body relaxing as her face burrowed in his chest; breath tickling his bare chest; warm, small fingers splayed on his back as she hugged his waist; legs tangled with his. He rested his hand on her thigh, stroking the smooth skin, occasionally allowing his fingers to drift up and touch the satiny fabric of her purple knickers, as he had done the last time they were together like this, sharing a pair of pyjamas, and she'd curled herself so comfortably against him.

It was exactly what he needed, after the events of tonight...of this entire year: to come home to her, to hold her, to hear her say Tonks things.

As her felt her heart gradually slow, and her breathing deep, he believed it was what she needed, too.

Content with promises of now, knowing that he was in the right place, Remus quickly fell asleep.

To be continued...

A/N: Just want to thank y'all for the tremendous response to Part One. I've been so eager to get to the interim period between the hospital scene and Dumbledore's funeral, and I'm really pleased my take on the reconciliation is going over well so far. I promise the fic will start living up to its rating in the next update -- which I plan to post Friday, barring technical difficulties.

Reviewers get a Remus to share in the bedtime ritual of their choice. ;)