Part Three

Warm.

He was warm.

So warm, that his head ached behind his eyes. He squeezed them tighter shut against the light invading through flimsy curtains, and his heart began to race. If it was warm and light when he was sleeping, then something must be off. His room at Grimmauld Place had heavy brocade drapes that blocked out all the light beyond, even at its noonday brightest. It was drafty, and he always froze in that great four-poster bed, no matter how many blankets he piled on or how powerful the warming charms. Underground, his tatty blanket had been stolen, leaving him to huddle in a shadowy nook, with only his threadbare overcoat for warmth.

But there was no overcoat now. Remus' upper body was unclothed; his skin, damp with perspiration, stuck to the sheets as layers of blankets pressed down suffocatingly. Rolling onto his side, he tried to shove them off, only to wince as his legs collided with a pair of knees.

Someone else's knees.

And the ache behind his eyes suddenly became insignificant as his forehead connected with what could only be an elbow in the face. His shin seared as it received a sharp kick as a muttering person -- the owner of the knees and elbow, Remus could only assume -- yanked the bedclothes back over him.

Remus' eyes snapped open. The fog of half-asleep disorientation cleared from his mind as his vision focused on the pale face of Nymphadora Tonks, lit by soft grey pre-dawn light, in peaceful repose on the pillow next to his.

His heart leapt, but immediately plummeted to his stomach with the thought that this could only be a dream. He had shared a bed with Tonks before -- but no more, never again.

Only in dreams.

Dreams he'd grown to dread, because they were always so real, so beautiful, tantalising him with everything he wanted. They were worse than nightmares -- they were nightmares -- because waking from them only left him aching for what he could not have.

But could this be a dream? He never resisted her in dreams, never made a conscious decision not to indulge his desires. Now he felt the war of physical need against his rational mind as he held back from kissing her awake... covering her body with his...unbuttoning the pyjama top she wore, which, though hidden underneath the duvet, he imagined had hiked up round her waist to reveal her smooth, flat tummy and below it, her purple knickers.

His eyes lingered on the shirt. It hung so loosely from her feminine frame that he could see her breasts pressed enticingly together as she lay on her side. Merlin, he wanted to cup those small breasts in his hands...to feel nipples harden under his palms...to have her warmth surge from his fingertips, up through his arms, into his heart...

Merely lying next to her, not touching, heat radiated from her. It was not at all an unpleasant sensation, despite how the unfamiliarity of it had woken him.

Was this a dream? Vividly as her apparition visited him in slumber, dreams never captured this aspect of being so near to her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips very red, the lower protruding in a slight pout. Her breath tickled his face.

It was very much morning breath; there was no romanticising that. But it was the detail that clinched the reality of his circumstances: Remus was very much awake, in bed at the Hog's Head Inn with the very real, very warm, Tonks.

Her face swam as the details of how he'd come to be here with her flooded his wakening memory.

Dumbledore was dead.

"Remus?"

At the sound of Tonks' slightly raspy, early morning voice, he blinked. The mist cleared from his eyes, and he found himself gazing into her wide dark ones. They lay looking at one another for a silent moment, then Tonks raised her hands to rub sleep from her eyes. When she had done, her eyes rounded slightly, as if she were surprised to find him still there.

"Remus," she whispered, a small smile curving on her lips. "I thought I'd dreamed you."

Chuckling softly, Remus curved one arm under his pillow and scooted a little closer to her. "I'm not a dream."

Tonks' smile widened and filled her beautiful eyes. Under the blankets, her hand slid up to rest on his hip. Remus mirrored her touch, grinning as he found, just as he'd imagined, that her pyjama shirt was pushed up around her waist. His fingers opened on warm skin -- and the thin, silky band of her bikini-cut knickers.

But his heart thudded heavily as Tonks flinched, face falling and going very pale. "That means Dumbledore's really…"

Though relieved that it was not his touch she'd shied away from, Remus' heart remained constricted, and he swallowed painfully. "Yes," he half-choked. "Dumbledore is really gone."

The dark eyes shone and Remus, battling the sting in his own, could not be sure whether it was her tears or his that obscured them. Tonks blinked, slowly, and hard. When she opened her eyes again, they were dry, but slightly pink; her long, dark lashes clumped together, shimmering. Her slender body trembled as she drew in a shuddering breath, and her hand moved up from his hip to lightly touch his chest. "But you're here."

Remus caught her hand and pressed it against him. "Here to stay."

His heart pounded against their clasped hands; he felt Tonks' pulse keeping almost the same driving tempo in her wrist. They lay so still and so quietly that he was almost sure he could hear their hearts beating.

The window behind him reflected in Tonks' eyes, and it drew Remus' attention to the shifting light in the room. Grey gleamed pale yellow as, in the world beyond, the first rays of sun burned over the edge of the dewy ground. The hazy beams filtering into the room played in her hair, highlighting the lighter strands, enriching the otherwise drab colour.

Releasing her hand, Remus reached up to brush an errant lock from her forehead.

Tonks' gaze dropped, and she shifted her shoulders back from him self-consciously. A stab of guilt tempted Remus to withdraw as well, but instead he wove his fingers into her hair and, sliding his other hand out from under his pillow, touched her chin and tilted her face up to his.

"You're the most beautiful sight I could wake to," he said softly, stroking her hair.

Though Remus meant it with the utmost sincerity, he understood why Tonks disliked her hair in its natural state. It was a nice, normal hair colour, and suited her pale face well enough. But it didn't match her vibrant personality in the slightest -- not like the pink, which he, so strangely, loved on her; sometimes he forgot it was not as natural to her as her dark eyes.

Watching the mousy tendril curl around his knuckles, the words he'd spoken to her just before they'd slipped beneath the sheets returned to him. He'd all but promised her that she would regain her ability to Metamorphose, as though it were somehow within his power to restore to her. It seemed almost an egotistical thing to think. Then again, he'd been all too willing to take the blame for reducing Tonks to this state. In a way, he realised now, the latter was more egotistical, because he'd used it to support his own arguments that she deserved better than him.

What Tonks deserved was for him to take responsibility for the hurt he'd done her, by making it right.

Cupping her heart-shaped face in his hands, he kissed her forehead. It was the slightest brush of his lips on her skin, skimming along the rise of her brow to her temple, then back again. Her lashes tickled his cheek as her eyelids fluttered closed, enticing Remus to bestow light kisses upon them, too.

He kissed the tip of her cute, upturned nose, and as he reached her cheekbone, he allowed his lips to move more teasingly on her skin. It was a spot that had always made her squirm against him, and a laugh rumbled in his chest as she did so now. He shivered when her hand came to rest in the curve of his neck, fingers reaching around to his nape to play with his hair.

His lips parted and pressed more insistently as the trail he was kissing down her face came nearer to mouth. When he did reach her mouth, he paused just shy of it, leaving the smallest fraction of space between their lips. His blood pounded in his ears, in time with Tonks' quick, shallow breaths.

Tonks' hand pressed his neck in the slightest of nudges. Remus responded to the invitation, intending to kiss her softly, gently. Their mouths, however, met and immediately melted together, desperate for one another after so many months apart.

For the next few minutes -- it could have been hours, for all he knew -- the world spun frantically on its axis, a heated swirl of lips and tongues and hands, a surge of sighs and moans and beating hearts. Remus regained awareness when suddenly it shifted, and he found himself rolling Tonks onto her back so he could stretch over her. He'd slipped one hand inside the loose neck of her pyjamas, and his thumb was rubbing lightly over her nipple.

He started to withdraw his hand, but Tonks pressed hers over it, clasping it to her breast. With his body pressed so close to her, she could be in no doubt where this would lead if they continued. He dropped another kiss on her red, slightly puffy lips, then pulled back to look into her eyes.

"Is this what you need, Nymphadora?"

Gaze holding his unblinkingly, Tonks guided his hand toward the top button of her pyjama top. "Is it what you need?"

She was what he needed. Only Nymphadora.

Looking deeper and deeper into her dark eyes, thinking he might be getting lost in them, he understood that love, as much as it must strive to fill need, could not do that without admitting need.

"Only you," he voiced the thought, then kissed her again, holding nothing back, nor wanting to.

Tonks matched him.

There was a clumsy flurry of fingers and hands as he scrabbled to unbutton her top, and they both worked feverishly to divest him of his half of the pyjamas -- hindering more than helping, it seemed, which dissolved them to a fit of giddy laughter.

Mirth ceased the instant the last scrap of clothing fell away. For a moment they looked at one another, unabashedly, yet as if they were not quite sure they knew one another. Recognition dawned, however -- Remus knew he would never forget the way her eyes burned, stating so clearly that she was looking at the person she knew best, and wanted to know more because he was more important to her than anyone else in the world -- and they studied one another not only with eyes, but with hands, fingers, mouths...It was wonderful, and overwhelming --

-- but soon it wasn't enough. Could there ever be enough of Nymphadora for him? Remus wondered as he leant over the beautiful form she opened to him.

There was an awkward moment of situating themselves, of hitched breath and murmurs of concern and apology. But all of that quickly faded to hazy, distant memory as skin met skin, legs twined, arms encircled, bodies joined completely, as they never had been.

As he'd given up hope they ever would be, Remus thought in the moment of stillness as they learned to accommodate one another, and he, holding his weight off her by pushing up on his hands, marvelled at the sight of them, together. Her hands gripped his forearms, her chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths, her neck and face were flushed.

Dreams had never captured the swell in his chest at the thought that he could make her look that way, make her fathomless dark eyes gaze up at him with what could only be called expectation. Imagination had never included unshakable confidence that he could meet that expectation, that there could be no question of it because they were connected, body and soul.

Never in his wildest dreams had he thought it possible to feel so close to another human being. He knew it could only feel so wonderful because it was so right.

Gently, Remus lowered himself, unable to hold back a pleased sound in his throat as Tonks, with a half-shy smile, pressed her hips up against his and wrapped her legs around his waist. He reached back to caress a smooth thigh, then stretched to kiss her earlobe as he whispered to her.

"I love you, too," Tonks said huskily against the side of his face, rubbing her cheek so that his growth of beard made the faintest of scratching sounds. Her hands slid up to his shoulders and pressed him down more securely against her, eliciting another moan from Remus, and emitting one herself.

"I think..." she panted. "I'm not a great expert, but...aren't you s'posed to be moving? Up and down, or...something."

Remus' head jerked up and, catching the gleam in her eyes, laughter rumbled out. "I'm no expert, either, but I believe this..." He rolled his hips; her gasp, her nails digging into his back as she breathed his name in his ear, made him shudder inwardly with pleasure as intense as the feel of her body around him. "...is an acceptable move in lovemaking?"

She continued to whisper his name, over and over as she joined him in finding their rhythm. Rising and falling, approaching and retreating...

"God, Nymphadora," Remus murmured, curving his hands over her breasts as she arched up into him. "You're so warm..."

Tonks made a sound that might have been a chuckle or a moan of pleasure; Remus loved the idea of it being a mixture of the two.

"That's because you're stirring my -- oh, Remus!" Her tummy drew quickly inward, and her hands splayed on his back as he leant into her, not wanting to lose a fraction the warmth of her skin against his. "Mmm...'cause you're stirring my cauldron."

Remus' raised his head where he'd been kissing the hollow of her throat. "What?"

Giggling, Tonks rocked her hips, which made Remus lose all interest in why she was going on about cauldrons at a time like this and, in fact, had much the same effect as if she'd cast a Memory Charm to deprive him of the knowledge that there was any such thing at all.

Until she began to, of all things, sing:

"Oh, come and stir my cauldron,

And if you do it right..."

Remus pressed his face into her shoulder and laughed. "Oh Tonks, not--"

Her hips pressed into his again, reducing him to grunts; she somehow maintained the presence of mind to keep going, albeit breathily and tunelessly:

"I'll boil you up some hot, strong love

To keep you warm tonight."

"I can't..." Remus paused to catch his breath. "...can't possibly be doing this right if you...Mmm...Nymphadora...if you can remember Celestina...Warbeck lyrics."

"I reckon neither of us is, since..." Her arms went limp at her sides eyelids drooped. When she opened them again, they were hazy. "...since you're saying Nymphdadora..."

"You know...every time I dream about us...this song's playing."

Tonks giggled, abdominal muscles contracting tantalizingly, as they always had in the dreams, spurring him on. "You're daft."

"So I'm told," he murmured,

And then no one was telling anyone anything because it was just too much now to think. There were only feelings here: intense physical pleasure; but beyond that, sheer joy -- and gratitude. Even after everything, they yet were blessed to have this for their first time.

Remus had never, not even in dreams, heard anything like her voice crying out; he'd never known that to collapse, trembling, panting, into her arms was what it meant to be complete.

He lay against her for some time, both of them catching their breath. When they had, there were more whispers of love, more tender kisses and caresses as they lingered, together. He didn't think he would ever be able to move away from her. His body was so relaxed, his mind so still, as if he'd drunk a Draught of Peace. But it was more than that. He'd passed so many years alone, thinking himself accustomed to isolation. Now that he knew what it meant to be with Tonks like this, he could never, ever let her go.

When they finally did move apart from each other, Remus chuckled at himself. This was closeness, too -- feeling the heat radiate from Tonks' body, watching her reach her arms back over her head to grasp the rickety iron headboard and, catlike, stretch her lithe limbs.

At some point, the duvet had half-fallen off the bed, and her small feet moving underneath it caught Remus' eye. She yawned hugely then, dissolving into giggles, rolled into his arms. She pressed a smacking kiss to his chest, and drew in a great breath that made her entire body heave. She exhaled with a satisfied hum, and laughed again.

It was contagious.

Trailing his fingertips over the rise of her hipbone, Remus asked through his chuckles, "Could you please inform me as to why we're laughing?"

"You mean besides the fact that I'm giddy from great sex?"

"And besides the fact that I find you ridiculously cute."

Abruptly, Tonks stopped laughing and shot him a pouting look, which was betrayed by her dancing eyes. "You've just slept with me, and you're calling me cute?"

"I don't recall doing much sleeping," Remus replied, "but yes, I am." He slid his hand over her hip, to her bottom. "If you had not interrupted me, you would have heard me say I find you dead sexy." She smiled, and he slid his lips languidly across hers. "And devastatingly gorgeous."

"Yes, you definitely look devastated," said Tonks, dryly. "Flatterer." Before he could retort with an assurance of sincerity, she asked, head cocked in a look of genuine curiosity, "D'you remember when I said about first times not being that great?"

Remus had no desire to think of that conversation -- that quarrel -- or what had led up to it, the time they'd almost taken this step, for entirely wrong reasons, under entirely wrong circumstances. For which he was utterly ashamed. The last thing he wanted to feel now was shame.

"Yes," he said hoarsely. "I remember."

"Obviously I'd no idea what I was talking about," said Tonks, laughing again, pushing away the negative thoughts that had crept into Remus' mind. He kissed her, but after a moment she pulled her lips from his and stared at his chest with a serious look on her face.

"I'm glad," she said quietly, watching her fingers trace patterns on his skin, "that it was like this. That it was good, and...we won't regret. I mean..." She caught her lower lip between her teeth in a moment of hesitation, then said, "I know I won't."

Did she feel his heart leap beneath her hand? Merlin, it was good to be of the same mind in this regard. Surely it boded well for all that was yet to come as they rebuilt their relationship.

"I could never regret being with you," said Remus.

Not only could he never, but he never had, not once, even though he'd tried desperately to convince himself and Tonks and everyone that he never should have been with her. In his heart he'd cherished every moment they'd shared, and hated how he'd thrown her away -- and Tonks knew it. That was why she hadn't let go, why she'd fought for him, tooth and nail.

Remus kissed her again, and heard her sharply indrawn breath as he rolled her onto her back. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair as she responded with equal ardour.

Until suddenly, with a cry of "Oh!"and an expression of epiphany that made her eyebrows vanish into her dishevelled hair, Tonks pushed Remus away and vaulted out of bed.

For just an instant Remus admired her lithe, naked form, then she tripped over the dangling duvet, and then her own two feet, as she stumbled to the bathroom.

"Tonks?" Remus called a moment later, when it registered in his still hazy mind that she had not shut the door. Sitting up, he fished through the tangle of sheets for his pyjamas. "Are you all--?"

The question died on his tongue as he rose to pull on the trousers and peered through the open bathroom door.

Tonks stood at the sink, back to Remus. The mirror reflected her face scrunched up so intensely that a vein rose on her forehead.

She was trying to Metamorphose.

Eyes darting up, widening as they saw Remus' reflection behind hers, a flush raced up Tonks neck. She pulled her gaze away from him and concentrated her efforts even harder on her magic.

It was the most heartbreaking sight Remus had ever seen. Hateful inner voices clamoured that he was to blame, and utterly inadequate to mend what he had, through carelessness, broken. He should not be here.

Ordering them silent, Remus stepped into the bathroom and slipped his arms around Tonks' waist. Her slight, naked body sagged against him; to Remus' dismay, her skin was no longer warm, slightly sticky with sweat, but cold, clammy.

"I thought…" The mirror reflected a girl close to tears, and Tonks shook her head vigorously as she regarded herself, then shut her eyes against the reflection. "Why can't I…?"

"You've been without your powers for almost a year," said Remus, slowly, reaching up with one hand to stroke her fringe back from her forehead. "Your emotions…It will take time."

He pressed a kiss to her temple, and in his peripheral he caught the reflection of her mouth curving in a grin.

"We look good together like this," she said.

The brightness had returned to her eyes, and Remus couldn't stop himself from smiling as he watched the reflection of his hand sliding from her waist up over her breast. It fitted so perfectly in his curved palm.

"Indeed," Remus said, but wonder gave way to seriousness. He was not, by any means, content with having merely distracted Tonks from her troubles. He wanted to reassure her of his love and constancy throughout the length of time of her healing.

"However long it takes," he said, "you will always be beautiful to me, Nymphadora."

Her rounded bottom pressed into him as she leant back. "If it's going to take time," she asked, fighting vainly against her widening smile, "does that mean we can do what we just did over and over till I can go pink again?"

Chuckling, Remus turned her head so he could kiss her mouth. "A million times, if you're up for it."

Turning fully toward him, Tonks quirked an eyebrow challengingly. "Are you?" Gleaming mischievously, her eyes dropped and continued their downward trail over his body.

"Maybe not a million times in one day..." Speech became impossible as slow heat coursed through Remus' body, as though transferred from her admiring gaze -- which really made him want to conduct experiments to test the validity of his statement. A lot of things were happening to him that he'd deemed impossible.

Yet even as her fingers fluttered over his stomach, passion simmered into a calm tenderness, and Remus cupped her face in his palm.

"Talking will help, too," he said. "We've a great deal to sort."

Tonks grabbed his hand and made as though to drag him to the bedroom. "Let's get it sorted, then. In bed. So we'll be ready."

Remus' heart leapt at her enthusiasm. He was the luckiest man in the world, to have an utterly irresistible woman like her practically dragging him to her bed. And yet he remained rooted in the bathroom doorway, so thoroughly satisfied that all he could think of was how happy he was to see her old cheerfulness returning.

"Shouldn't we have breakfast first?" he asked, tugging on her hand to pull her back to him. "And perhaps you ought to put some clothes on?"

Tonks glanced down at herself, heaved a dramatic sigh, and retreated to the bathroom. "Yes, and I've got to work."

She climbed into the shower, slipping and nearly taking the curtain down in the process. "We'll sort things tonight, all right? In bed. And naked. Merlin, I don't even want to deal with the chaos it'll be today..."

As she muttered to herself, Remus returned to the main room, boiled the kettle and set the teabags in to steep -- the Earl Grey she'd bought to remind her of him in his absence.

While their bread toasted, he moved to the window, pulled back the curtains, and lifted the sash.

A warm summer day had dawned.

To be continued...

A/N: I continue to be bowled over by your response to this fic. Thanks so much for your lovely comments and encouragements. This week, reviewers get to choose which Remus they'd like to wake up to: the tender lover, who gazes tenderly and bestows soft kisses; or the sex god, who's determined to test whether a million times is really an impossible feat...