Part Six

It seemed appropriate to Remus that he and Tonks maintained silence as they trudged across the Hogwarts grounds to the front gates, leaving Mad-Eye to pay his private tribute to their fallen leader and friend.

But approaching Hogsmeade, the village din carrying through the still summer evening air, the awkwardness of last night and this morning hung thickly, uncomfortably, between them, even though they were holding hands. Tonks' fingers and palm felt stiff, and sticky, in his. Or was that his hand?

Why was it like this? Remus knew there was no Evanesco, no Reparo for their troubles, but they'd talked last night -- really talked. Surely they could not have reverted to this. What must he do to reassure her about her powers? Was there anything? What if the damage was--?

"So what d'you fancy for dinner?" Tonks' voice broke into his thoughts.

"I..."

Remus' mouth hung open for a moment, then he shut it. Somehow the casualness of Tonks' question, and her corresponding tone, tripped him up -- as did the thought that not only would there be no more lonely meals taken solely to quell hunger, but that the very choice of what he would eat now would be shared with her. It was yet another of those everyday things that he'd never considered could contain such intimacy.

He opened his mouth again, and sounded ridiculously flustered when he croaked, "Hogsmeade hardly offers a broad selection."

"Sure it does. Just depends on your mood. Three Broomsticks if you're boring and want ordinary food cooked well. Hog's Head if you're feeling daring and want to flirt with indigestion."

Remus chuckled, as much from her joke as with relief at the lightening atmosphere between them. "I suppose you'd know, having been stationed here for the better part of a year."

"That's right." Tonks squeezed his hand. "So what mood are you in?"

"At risk of you labelling me boring, I would like to eliminate the Hog's Head from our list of options."

Tonks darted gleaming eyes sidelong at him. "Fuddy duddy."

Not about to let her get away with that, Remus suggested, "What about Honeyduke's? Would you label me youthfully daring if I requested a dinner of sweets?"

Tilting her head, Tonks considered this. "More like youthfully foolish."

With a scowl, Remus dropped her hand and folded his arms in mock-affront. "Really, Tonks, I fail to see how Honeyduke's makes me foolish while the Hog's Head makes me adventurous. Honeyduke's is at least a pleasurable way of developing indigestion."

"That just makes you sound reckless and indulgent."

Remus narrowed his eyes, and Tonks' laughter pierced the air. It felt considerably less oppressive as her fingers brushed his when she squeezed her hand into the gap between his arm and side, threading her arm through his. Her other hand moved to rest on his arm, and she leant her head against his shoulder as she hugged his arm to her body. Her affection left no room for the feelings that had crept in and made Remus feel isolated from her. His rigid neck, shoulders, and back relaxed completely.

Slowing their pace, he laid his free hand over hers on his arm, curling the tips of his fingers under hers. He turned his head to drop a kiss on the top of hers, and Tonks raised a beautifully happy face to him: pink-cheeked, velvet-eyed, sweetly smiling.

He stopped walking, irresistibly drawn to kiss her soundly, right in the middle of the road -- but Tonks had let go of his arm, attention diverted to something up ahead. When Remus followed her gaze, his mouth fell open, mirroring her gob smacked expression.

"Bloody Merlin's beard," Tonks whispered. "There's a queue to get into Three Broomsticks?"

"It certainly appears so."

Remus blinked a few times, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. No -- there really were several dozen witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes and ages milling about the inn and tavern; many carried suitcases or carpetbags. How he'd been unaware of the throng till now, was beyond him.

"All in for the funeral," Remus said, chest tightening.

Tonks sidled closer, and he wrapped his arm snugly around her waist.

"Somehow," she said, "even though there were all those chairs set up at the school...this didn't really occur to me."

"No. Nor to me."

It made no sense, but somehow the sight of all these visitors in the normally quiet village made the whole thing more real, and even more surreal at the same time.

"C'mon." Tonks slipped out from the crook of his arm, caught his hand, and urged him on up High Street.

"Where are we going?" Remus asked, dazed.

"Hog's Head's our only option, I reckon," Tonks said. "I'm starved, and I'm not waiting a sodding hour to eat at Three Broomsticks."

"Hog's Head's got nearly a two hour wait," grumbled a passing wizard en route to The Three Broomsticks. He looked like the sort of person with whom Mundungus Fletcher would keep company, and the type who wouldn't know how to behave at any establishment less seedy than the Hog's Head.

Remus and Tonks stopped in their tracks and gaped at one another.

"Honeyduke's, then?" Remus asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "We could go back to London. If everyone's here, the Leaky'll be empty. Or we could go someplace Muggle. Remember that place we ate hamburgers last summer?"

"We couldn't go there without Mad-Eye," said Remus. "Anyway, are you really up for London? You've already been there and back today."

"That'd be terribly sweet," Tonks said, and poked him playfully in the side with her index finger, "if only I didn't know you were thinking about how much you'd like Chocolate Frogs for dinner instead of being concerned about how much I've travelled today."

"Chocolate Frogs would help you recover."

Grasp tightening around his hand, Tonks turned and tugged him on toward the Hog's Head. "There's beans-on-toast in our room."

"Thrilled though I am to hear you talk of our room..." Warmth rushed through Remus as Tonks wove their fingers together and glanced up with a soft, knowing look reserved for him. "...a day of casting security charms with Mad-Eye works up rather a more substantial appetite than beans-on-toast."

"So London, then?"

"Yoo-hoo! Over here, m'dears!"

Once again they stopped, hands falling apart, and turned toward the direction of the warbling, vaguely familiar female voice carrying from the side street across from the Hog's Head. A stout witch with a shiny black bun was flagging down passers by.

"I'm open for dinner!" She had to be using a Sonorus to make her voice carry that clearly. "I've just whipped up a chicken casserole with dumplings!"

Remus raised his hand to rest in the small of Tonks' back, gently nudging her to cross the street.

Tonks looked up at him as if he were mad. "Oh no. We're not eating at Madam Puddifoot's."

"Why not? She doesn't look to have too many customers, we don't have to travel, and...it's very pink."

"And you think maybe that'll get me in the right frame of mind to morph?"

Remus' eyes dropped to his battered shoes as his stomach twisted, but an inner jolt that said she was teasing and harboured no resentment, made him swallow the sick feeling and meet her gaze.

"Indulge me?" he asked. "I've never actually taken a date there."

Tonks tried to look dubious, but failed as her heart-shaped face flushed with happiness. "I reckon it is sort of a first love thing to do."

"Only love," Remus corrected, touching her cheek and leaning in for a kiss. Joy welled within him at the feel of Tonks' unwavering smile as she pressed her lips enthusiastically, yet softly, to his.

But Tonks looked considerably less starry-eyed as Madam Puddifoot hustled them into her frilly-to-the-point-of-soppy establishment, crooning and growing misty-eyed as she talked of the tragic events that led to her keeping the tearoom open beyond normal hours.

When she left them alone to fetch their dinners, Remus leant across the table and murmured, "I think we may have to drop in Honeyduke's yet, to help us recover from not travelling."

Tonks giggled -- rather more quietly than was usual for her, but apparently much too loudly for the few other patrons. Remus felt eyes on them, and turned to see a trio of elderly witches dressed austerely in high-necked black robes and hats with veils; a married couple who looked old enough to have been schoolmates of Dumbledore's; and the proprietress herself, statuesque in the kitchen doorway with two plates, staring at them as though they were holding everyone in the establishment at wand point and had just ordered them to hand over all their gold.

"You know..." Tonks leant conspiratorially across the table when Madam Puddifoot had delivered their food, poured their wine and, clucking her tongue, bustled off again to tend to her other customers. "...it's a blessing I'm not morphed right now. Just think how the poor old things would've looked if I'd dared to laugh on the eve of a funeral with pink spiky hair."

Remus chuckled, and sipped his wine. "We are very lucky to have been close enough to Dumbledore to know full well that he would want us laughing and pink-haired tonight."

Tonks' eyes danced over the rim of her glass. "I think he'd be even more amused to see you with pink hair than me."

"Yes. I can just imagine him winking and telling me it brings out the colour of my eyes."

"Or matches the blush on your cheeks," Tonks teased.

Remus, face indeed prickling with warmth, laughed low; but his breath caught as he stood on the threshold of the door Tonks, in her typical unassuming way, had opened for the conversation they must have.

As usual, he hadn't the faintest idea where to begin.

And as usual, Tonks led the way. "Sorry I wasn't very talkative this morning."

"You're not the one who should be apologising," said Remus emphatically, reaching across the table for her hand. "It's me who--"

"Don't blame yourself, Remus." Tonks laid down the fork she'd just picked up, and covered his hand with hers. "I don't."

Remus squeezed her hand, hoping the gesture communicated his gratitude, then released it. As he spread his napkin over his lap, he said, "I've thought of nothing all day but what might have been going through your mind last night and this morning. Mad-Eye caught me moping about it. I count myself lucky to be alive, actually."

Tonks chuckled around a bite of dumpling. It was the only sound for a few minutes as they ate.

At last, Tonks laid down her fork and, after a sip of wine, said, "I was thinking about the solution to my problem." She paused briefly, then went on, "I've an idea what it is. "

Her dark eyes locked with his in a look of expectation tinged with mischief. It made Remus wonder whether she expected him to try and guess her solution, but he certainly could not do, as his breath had been stolen again, and his vocal chords were rendered useless by the heart that had leapt into his throat.

Gaze never wavering from his, Tonks raised her wine glass and drank another long sip. She set it on the table again. With an expression of utter sincerity, she said, "You haven't tickled me."

"I haven't--"

Remus noticed a twitch at the corners of her mouth, and this time it was his laughter that turned scandalised heads. Tonks' face split in a grin, but she managed to hold back and laugh soundlessly; her trembling form made their glasses rattle on the tabletop.

His mirth swelled with thoughts of how much he loved this young woman, who reminded him of that important truth that even the most troublesome of problems had silver linings, and could be laughed at. She held nothing against him, because she truly loved him. She understood just how much he wanted to put things to right, and she understood that he needed her help, so was doing what she could to put him at ease. There could be no witch as remarkable as her.

Remus Lupin might be a cursed man -- but he doubted there was any who was more blessed.

When he had got himself under control, he asked,"Shall I come over the table and tickle you pink, or shall we save that for when we're back in our room?"

They gazed at one another again, an entirely different breathlessness stealing over Remus as the space between them tingled with magic at the thought of what they both knew awaited them in that shared hotel room.

Yet it only awaited them if they sorted things.

Seriousness settled over them both once more, fading their smiles.

"What do you think the solution is?" Remus asked. "What can I do for you?"

Tonks became very intent on picking up her fork and jabbed at a bit of dumpling and vegetables.

"Physically," she said after a moment, not looking at him, "we've moved past where we were. And we've got our doubts out in the open. But..."

She took a bite and chewed, slowly, a look in her eyes as she stared at her plate that reminded Remus of how she'd looked last night during their bathtub conversation; he'd had a feeling then that she was holding back her true thoughts.

"You know you can say anything," he encouraged.

Tonks looked up, eyes intense. "We're not..." She picked up her wine glass so quickly that a bit sloshed, and took a drink. "We're not quite where we left off."

The dumpling Remus was swallowing went down too hard.

"You didn't just break up with me, Remus."

Her voice echoed with the pulse of his blood in his ears, against the din of the tearoom. In the midst of it Remus heard the question Molly had posed to him during his first reprieve from underground: "Did you ask Tonks to marry you?" His face prickled with shame as he recalled his non-committal, cowardly answers: "Not officially...We talked about it..."

Tonks' eyes beckoned him. She was waiting -- waiting again for him to acknowledge exactly what lay between them, exactly what they were to each other. His fingers toyed with the stem of his wine glass, but he did not drink from it.

"I asked you to marry me," he said, voice choked. "I broke off our engagement."

It was not a surprise to see her eyes close or her brow crinkle slightly at the pain those words brought.

However, her long lashes parted again to reveal shining eyes, and she smiled again. Somehow the admission had brought relief.

"Sort of," Tonks said. "It was very hard to feel unengaged when I knew you'd never try to be with anyone else. You would always be faithful to me."

Her words rang true, in part because Remus had thought them before himself. It was an altogether different matter to hear Tonks voice them. The trust she expressed was humbling. It occurred to him how frustrating it must have been to Tonks to know that their separation was not an issue of love. He regretting having put her through that; it seemed so unnecessary now that they'd begun to talk through their fears and insecurities and determined to face them together.

At the same time another, not inconsequential, measure of guilt melted away with the realisation that Tonks had always been absolutely sure of the constancy and depth of his love; in some way, that had been a blessing to her that in the midst of the pain of their separation, she at least had been spared the pain of doubting his love.

"It just felt..." Tonks was saying, "...not together. And...wrong."

Her eyes darted across the table to his plate, and she nudged his leg with the toe of her sturdy boot. "S'all right to eat, you know. You don't have to stop just because we're having a serious conversation."

Remus took her at her word, and he found that the simple act of eating somehow made the whole thing less serious. They weren't having a discussion that questioned intent; she wasn't trying to persuade him to change his mind about their relationship, as she had so many times this year. They were getting back to where they should be. Because they both wanted to be there.

The thought gave Remus the confidence to mention one of the more painful discussions they'd had about this very subject -- though he didn't resist the urge for a drink before spoke. "You said once that you knew my heart was married to you."

Tonks' cheeks went pink, and she ducked her head as she picked at her food. Remus rubbed his foot against hers under the table, drawing her gaze again.

He gave her a small smile. "It was a very apt way of putting it. It is a very apt way of putting it."

She returned the smile, and scraped food onto her fork. As she chewed, her smile faded, and her eyes were very intent on his face as she laid her silverware across her plate.

"If it's apt..." She swiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "...why haven't you brought it up?"

"I've wanted to," Remus admitted, "but after everything, I wasn't sure...I was afraid of pushing you. I thought you might need more time to...trust me."

"I think..." Tonks tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and caught her lip between her teeth in an expression that was half-shy even though she was gazing levelly at him. "I think it'd be just the thing to help with the trust issues. And...the morphing ones."

"So..."

Remus' racing heart lodged in his dry throat, and he swallowed painfully. He felt rather light-headed, and as if the room were spinning, and kept his eyes on Tonks' because she was the only steady thing in it. Discombobulating as it was, it was a good feeling. It was one of the happiest moments of his life, and he felt nearly as giddy as the day he'd got his Hogwarts letter, more eager and joyfully disbelieving than he'd been the first time they'd discussed this dream-like topic.

"So if I were to catch you off guard," he said deliberately, "and, in a wholly Marauder-like fashion, propose..."

Dear Merlin, he was really about to say it -- he could say it, and he'd never thought he would again.

"...propose marriage..."

He almost couldn't go on, so powerful was the urge to leap out of his chair, over the table, and express all the rest by kissing her senseless.

"...I could be reasonably sure of being accepted?"

Tonks pressed her lips together in a small smile that seemed to be holding back a burst of emotion and excitement very much like the urges he was restraining. There was a flicker of something else being held back, too, but Remus was distracted by how her beautiful eyes glittered enticingly at him across the table.

"Reasonably."

Remus came very close to expressing emotion and excitement in the manner best restricted to private, when Madam Puddifoot approached their table with a tray laden with desserts and steaming cups. "Apple crumble and coffee, m'dears?"

Though Remus was not especially hungry -- and a glance at Tonks' eyes, darting back and forth between the crumble and her unfinished plate of dumplings and casserole and looking a little overwhelmed, told him she was not, either -- Madam Puddifoot's tearful speech about how Merlin knew they all needed something to cheer them up in these dark days compelled them to accept it.

But as he tucked into his crumble and watched Tonks pick at hers with her fork, Remus immediately recognised her actions as indicative of something more than mere lack of appetite.

Before he could inquire, Tonks blurted, "What if they won't let us?"

"What if they won't let us what--?" Remus' fork slipped and scraped gratingly across his plate, setting his teeth on edge. "Oh."

He reached for his coffee, sipped too much, and burnt his tongue. Hoarsely, he stated, "What if they won't let us marry."

Tonks nodded, eyes wide and imploring and miserable. Why the last? Was she embarrassed that she'd asked? Or thinking that perhaps it was not, after all, a simple matter of being together? Merlin, could such a prospect, with legal ramifications, make her reconsider...?

Playing with the handle of her coffee cup, Tonks said, "The night you broke up with me, you said the Umbridge legislation might not allow...Is it a possibility, or were you just trying to convince me you weren't..." She swallowed, and her voice became very small. "...suitable?"

"I don't know," Remus replied, shaking his head, cringing as she did that he'd allowed such a word as unsuitable to creep into their relationship vocabulary. "I wouldn't be surprised if we tried, and Umbridge found out and drew up legislation against werewolf marriages..."

"If that happened," Tonks said just above a whisper, as though she were afraid speaking the question louder might bring the worst to pass, "would you be with me anyway? Or would you try to convince me to...be with someone who could?"

It had been idiocy for him to consider for one moment that Nymphadora, after all she'd borne from him this year, would be put off by a discriminatory law -- but Remus was too relieved to dwell on that. He could reassure her about this.

Reaching across the table for her hand, he said, "Does it mean I'm selfish if I claim to want your happiness, yet couldn't bear not being the man to give it to you?"

"You've just dipped your sleeve in apple crumble."

Remus looked down to see that his arm, indeed, rested in his dessert. He didn't move it, but tightened his hold on her hand.

"I think that sort of selfishness is allowed in love," said Tonks. "I'm glad you think that. It's completely human, you know.

"It would drive me mad."

"I know." She squeezed his hand. "But you don't have to worry about that. Ever. No one but you could make me happy. I wouldn't try to be happy with anyone else. If I can't make it work with you, I won't be able to make it work with anyone."

It was a strange thought, but Remus knew Tonks was right. Relationships had fallen apart from seemingly lesser issues than theirs endured.

Or perhaps...perhaps their problems really weren't as great as he had imagined. They'd got on with few bumps in the road for nearly a year before he'd gone underground.

Perhaps, even facing lycanthropy, they had it easier than many other couples.

"What about my parents?" Tonks asked, unblinking eyes holding him. "What if they don't approve?"

Remus pulled his hand away, and used his wand to clean the apple crumble from his sleeve. He'd met the Tonkses only once, last summer when Tonks had been in St. Mungo's following the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Her parents had treated him with nothing but politeness, yet somehow their formality and restraint suggested disapproval as clearly as outright hostility would have done.

"I've got to be honest," he said, "I don't relish the idea of alienating you from your parents…"

He shook his head, thinking of how high tensions had run at the Burrow between Molly and Fleur. At the same time, it was encouraging; perfectly normal people, who weren't Dark Creatures, faced disapproving in-laws, as well.

"But then..." He reached for her hand again, this time shoving the apple crumble aside keep his robes out of harm's way. "...my not being with you has hardly brought you closer to them, has it?" She had not spent Christmas with them, and as far as Remus knew, last saw them at St. Mungo's. "I suppose I shall just have to learn to accept that they might not accept. It's not my choice, nor your parents'. It's your choice."

Tonks did not look entirely satisfied with that, and Remus realised he was not, either.

"It's our choice," he said, firmly.

So radiant was the smile that bloomed on Tonks' face that Remus thought, for a moment, that she'd morphed. She had not done -- but the colour of her hair seemed the furthest thing from her mind as she leant across the table, rising slightly out of her chair; Remus, though he'd been at the brink of saying something else which he hoped would solidify her trust in him, mirrored her movement, and forgot what it was as her soft lips glided lightly over his.

Tonks kissed him just tantalisingly enough that, though brief, it couldn't be called a chaste kiss. Especially not with her foot rubbing upward along the inside of his calf like that, and with her fingers skimming his forehead as she brushed back his fringe.

Pulling away so that her lips just grazed his mouth, she murmured, "Let's go back to the Hog's Head."

"No wonder the Hogwarts boys always bring their dates here."

Laughing, Tonks called for Madam Puddifoot to bring their bill, then fished her purple velvet purse out of the pocket of her robes. Hastily, without looking him in the eye, she thrust it at Remus. "Will you sort it while I use the ladies'?"

As he watched her hurry to the loo, part of Remus suspected she'd only gone for his benefit.

He loved her for it.

Yes, there was still a prickle of shame that this was how it was likely to be for them, for years and years -- him counting out the money she earned. Still lingered a niggling fear that someday it would not be enough. Yet he felt last night's words resonating within him, kindling the blaze they'd sparked: "I don't want to take away your pride. I love you for your dignity."

They walked a fine line. The fact that Tonks had been compelled to walk away from him just now spoke volumes about how far they had to go before they could be at ease about the financial problems that plagued their relationship. Remus knew that for now, accepting her simultaneously awkward and graceful gesture was essential to gaining her trust that he would try to make this work. In the long run, he knew they would have to find some other solution than Remus simply keeping up the role of provider in public. After all, it was his self-perception that had put them through relationship hell this year. He knew, even if Madam Puddifoot did not, that the Knuts and Sickles he placed in her hand were not his.

For now, his pride was spared by the simple knowledge that Tonks knew how this arrangement made him feel, that it mattered to her because it mattered to him.

And he was extremely grateful when she returned from the ladies' room and rescued him from the bewildering situation of trying to console Madam Puddifoot that of course apple crumble was an appropriate dessert for times of mourning and that they'd only picked at theirs because they were too full of dumplings and casserole; Tonks interrupted with a confident request for a takeaway box, as they would surely need comfort food later tonight, or after the funeral.

"'Course," Tonks said at a teasingly low pitch in Remus' ear as they exited the tearoom, "there's another kind of comfort food I want just now--"

Her words trailed away with an unintelligible exclamation of delight as Remus caught her round the waist, covered her mouth with his, and Disapparated them.

Even in the few seconds of travel, their kisses became heated, and they materialised in their room at the Hog's Head Inn with Remus unbuttoning Tonks' robes, and Tonks already pushing his off his shoulders. It was difficult to retain awareness of what their hands were doing, with her lips pressing and parting against his, their tongues teasing and twirling in a fiery dance. But soon he felt the taut flesh of her tummy, hot against his, and the lace of her bra prickling his chest.

Without breaking their kiss, he released her first with one arm, then the other, to shrug his arms out of his dangling robes and unbuttoned shirt. He helped her push her trousers over her hips; her lips released his as her head fell back in a joyous shriek of laughter when he slid his hands under her bottom, letting the trousers fall to the floor as he lifted her out of them and onto the bed.

"Remus!" she gasped through giggles, pressing a small hand to his chest, holding him back as he started to join her in bed. It occurred to him, as he panted for breath, heart hammering, how fast they were going. He'd got carried away. This would be over before they knew it if he didn't slow down. She needed him to--

"Open the curtains, Remus."

The room had been spinning, everything in it blurred and hazy, but it stood still now, and cleared, as Remus stared at her. "The curtains?"

"Mm. Those dingy yellow things hanging over the windows that look a bit like sheets -- they're really called curtains."

"I know what they're called."

As Tonks' fingertips skimmed over his chest, sending shivers over his skin, her face the epitome of innocence. "You looked like you didn't know what I was talking about. A lot of blokes don't know what curtains are. You bachelor types--"

"I'm not a bachelor." The ancient iron bedstead groaned as he leant forward on his palms and pressed her back into the mattress. Tonks squealed as he nipped at her neck. "I'm a man who is very, very in love. In moments such as these, knowledge of domestic textiles flees the brain and is replaced by knowledge of how to unfasten lingerie..."

She laughed and squirmed as he slid his fingers underneath her shoulder blades and fumbled at the hook of her bra.

Before he could slip it off, she pushed him away. "I want to see outside. Look how red the light is in here -- it's a romantic sunset, I know it."

"Oh, all right." Remus heaved a sigh and pushed himself upright, but not before kissing her again. "But I'm only taking your insults because this is about setting the proper mood."

He staggered to the window, and just as he flicked his wand to cast a charm to prevent anyone from seeing in with the curtains open, the bedsprings creaked and Tonks said in a coy tone that made him turn, "I'll make it worth your while..."

He'd probably got the spell all wrong, but he didn't care. She was sitting up on her knees, holding a dazzling fuchsia bra not very concealingly over her small, perfect porcelain breasts, straps falling down over her pale shoulders. Eyes locked on her, Remus mechanically opened the curtains, barely aware of the rings scraping against the rod as he watched her face, suddenly bathed in rosy light.

"Oh, Remus!" Her bra fell away as her arms went slack. "The sky!"

He glanced out the window and took in a brilliant sky. A swirl of a million pinks faded into one another like an abstract painting. Fairy-floss clouds glowed neon as though lit from within by Muggle lights. The sun, low and large and ancient in the sky, burned over the rooftops, licking them with ruddy flames, consuming itself and the old day, to rise anew tomorrow.

Beautiful as it was, Remus' gaze was drawn back to Tonks. The wonder on her youthful features, dancing in her eyes, made him smile.

"Very pink, isn't it?"

Tonks was too rapt on the sunset scene to respond to his teasing. "Have you ever seen anything more glorious?"

Grin widening to the point of hurting his cheeks, Remus strode the few paces back to the bed. Tonks held her hands out to him, turning her beautiful smile up to him as he reached up to her. Remus paused at the edge of the bed as he placed his palms in hers, letting the meaning of her slim fingers closing around his steal warmly through him.

Touching Tonks was like entering into a place where he was sure of welcome, and of being wanted. She was a hearth and a bed and an embrace at the end of the day.

She was home.

"Does that look mean you think I'm more glorious?" Tonks arched an eyebrow coyly -- and yet there was innocence in her gaze, as well.

"Yes."

Tonks squeezed his hands. "Then why didn't you say it?"

Remus chuckled, and peeked at her through his fringe. "Because I thought you'd laugh."

"'Course I will," Tonks said, and she did. She tugged his hands, indicating in no uncertain terms she wanted him to join her on the bed. "But I'll also be very flattered and ask you to make love to me."

Stretching out on his side next to her, Remus hooked one leg over her as his hand trailed up from the top of her lacy, deep magenta knickers. Nuzzling her ear, he said huskily, "You're the most glorious sight I've ever seen."

He pulled back to look at her.

Tonks' gaze burned into his as she whispered, "Make love to me, Remus?"

His desire up until that point had been indisputable. But to hear the words -- so sweetly innocent, and yet revealing her own longing...for him -- made him want her even more.

The earlier thought he'd had about extending the moment for her seemed impossible as, the instant he touched his lips to hers, she set every fibre of his body ablaze. His veins seared with a wildfire he was utterly powerless to extinguish. Tonks, thankfully, gave no indication that she wanted him to; her hands stoked him on as she parted her legs, wrapping them around him, and pulled him over her.

They fell into a fast, erratic rhythm, which seemed to Remus to be ignited by the power of the fiercely burning setting sun. With every meeting of their skin, the encroaching flames licked more hotly at the self-destructive fear and doubt that had bound his heart and mind for the past year, burning them to ash. Remus embraced Tonks, covering her body more fully with his own; her fingers, splayed across his shoulders, seemed to melt into him, pulling him closer, deeper. His name crackled from her lips over and over, and Remus felt like a man refined, forged into a free, whole person, more like himself than he ever had been before.

He had found himself in her.

They cried out together -- Remus could have sworn that he heard distant phoenix song -- as the last glowing sliver of sun sank below the horizon. They collapsed into one another as the light in the room dimmed to the deeper twilight hues. As was becoming their habit, they lay together for a long time, his weight still resting on her, neither moving except to brush lips and fingers to damp faces -- Remus' were tangled in her hair -- not speaking except whispered utterances of love through shuddering breaths.

"You've no idea what it does for my dignity to see you like this," Remus whispered.

A spark of energy made him press his hips down into hers, stirring a soft moan from her throat. He burned again to know he was the only man who had seen her thus...or would...

"How're you seeing me?" Tonks asked breathlessly, through another pleasured sound, as he moved again.

Flushed and radiant in the afterglow, Remus thought, every inch of him warming against her. More herself than he had seen her in an age.

Because she had found herself in him, as well.

"Pink," Remus said. "You are quite pink all over, you know. Beautifully so, even if your hair--"

His words died as magic surged from her into him.

The hair he clutched between his fingers blazed, like the sky beyond the window...

...vividest pink.

"Nymphadora, you're--"

"--pink."

Her eyes fluttered closed, in ecstasy; at the corners, teardrops shimmered like jewels. Remus felt the prick in his own as her arms went around his neck, and she pulled his head down onto her shoulder.

Her damp cheek against his, she whispered, "I'm pink again."

Remus kissed the curve of her neck, then raised his head. Tonks' beautiful eyes opened, and he saw himself mirrored in their loving depths.

"I knew you'd make me pink again."

He opened his mouth to pick up her earlier joke about tickling her pink, but the teasing words lodged in his throat. He was too humbled by her trust, too overwhelmed by the feeling he'd never known of having lived up to such faith. He buried his face in her neck; her arms tightened around his back, pulling his weight firmly against her.

"Your heart's pounding," Tonks whispered.

"So is yours."

Remus' heart was pounding because he was seeing over and over her hair turning pink between his fingers. He'd made her pink. At the same moment, he saw just as clearly the instant it had gone brown -- the night he'd broken up with her. He had not realised at the time that it had been his doing, that she'd lost her powers right before his eyes. And when he had realised it, the thought that he could have that sort of power over another person, over her, terrified him, because it represented everything evil about what he was. He was a Dark Creature, and he had destroyed the woman he loved.

But he'd been wrong. He had not destroyed Nymphadora Tonks. He could not have done -- for the wolf was incapable of restoring what it destroyed, as Remus had done tonight.

It was still frightening to know that his heart contained such a force. Love was the greatest power he'd ever encountered -- as Dumbledore always said. Tonks had said herself, that his love had made it impossible for her to stop loving him; she'd never shut her heart to him, even though he'd broken it over and over -- and could do again.

Yet there was hope: he'd seen it spark tonight, and burst into flame; he'd felt the magic flare between his fingers, in vivid pink locks.

Love did not destroy, and could restore -- again, and again.

Passion mounted anew as Remus considered all the ways they had restored each other over the past two days -- and how Tonks had restored him all along.

He kissed her fervently, moved by the realisation that though he had rejected her, Tonks' refusal to let go of him had held him out of the pit of total despair.

His lips softened against hers, opening and closing, pressing and releasing a little more intently and purposefully as he sought to give back the careful nurture she'd bestowed upon him. She'd guarded his shattered ego, protected his battered pride. He caressed her body, and told her how beautiful and wonderful she was to him.

He traced the contours of her face with ginger fingertips, whilst he lightly traced his tongue along the inside of her warm mouth. She had searched through fear and pain and shame, never giving up until she found what was truly him -- so he tasted her, explored her; reached out for the deepest part of her.

For her trust, he murmured promises into her lips.

For her courage, his mouth pressed firmly against hers.

He kissed her fiercely, for her loyalty, as his hands found the dimples in the small of her arched back, and pulled her tighter into him.

Resting his full weight on her slim form, tangling his fingers in her silky pink hair, he kissed her with abandon, for her hope.

She clung to him with lips and hands and lithe, strong limbs...met and matched him...returned what he gave...kindled the embers to life again, made them blaze up stronger, hotter than before.

Nothing had changed, and yet everything was different. Their troubles would never go away, and worse trials than they had yet encountered were sure to come. Inevitably searing flames would touch them, and their hearts would again endure pain. But in this moment with her, Remus' heart pounded with love -- that force he now knew burned far more fiercely, more enduring, than any struggle he had passed through or would pass through. They need not fear the fiery path to come, for at the end lay a golden future, and as they journeyed toward it, their love would cover them and bring relief, guard them from the full brunt of the heat. The flames would singe, but not consume; they would burn away all that came between them, would shape them closer, irrevocably, together.

As heated kiss met heated kiss, body joined with body, and soul connected with soul, their hearts passed though the fire and from the ashes, rose, transfigured.

The End

A/N: And that, my dearies, is the Transfigured Hearts series.

I can't express my appreciation enough for all the wonderful support and feedback y'all have given me over the past ten months. Thanks so very much for your warm welcome into the R/T community. Many, many thanks to my super beta, Godricgal, who helped me through the roughest patches in the R/T timeline, and went above and beyond the call of duty to help me make each piece the best it could be -- especially with this last one. Truly, it's been a joy to share my work with all of you, and I look forward to posting the fruits of my current plot bunnies -- which include sequels to this series.

This time, reviewers get their choice of Remus for a dinner date: practical Remus, who takes you to The Three Broomsticks because the food's safe; adventurous Remus, who takes you to the Hog's Head where you risk food poisoning but have entertainment from goats; boyish Remus, who takes you to Honeyduke's for Chocolate Frogs; or romantic Remus, who takes you back to your hotel room for a feast of the senses...