AN: This takes place a little less than a year later. No, they are not 'together' although you shall understand when you read. Also, the title is staying the same… because damn it, it was supposed to be a oneshot, and I don't know what to call it. Suggestions welcome, I suppose…

Order, Please

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow." Tonks heard her complaints echoing up the stairway of her building. Every time she put weight on her foot, it throbbed in a way that really could not be healthy. She was only on the second floor. She groaned. Two more till she got to her apartment and could soak her foot in a tub of hot water. She felt like an idiot for having set anti-apparation spells around her apartment. Now would be one of the times when she would love to apparate into her own bedroom.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."

"Tonks?" Remus' head was poking over the banister from just outside his third floor apartment.

"Hi, Remus," she said, trying desperately to seem more in control of her pain than she actually was.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm quite well. You?"

"Your foot looks infected," he said.

"Oh. Well…that happens sometimes…"

"Do you want help?"

Of course he would ask. Of course he would be the perfect gentleman. Ugh. She didn't want him to see her when she looked like this—tired, covered in sweat, soot and blood from a rather hellish day that had turned out to be completely useless. There were times when she hated Rufus Scrimgeour. Now was one of them.

"Um. Sure. If you don't mind…" He was already moving down the stairs. When he stood next to her, he put her arm around his neck, his arm around her waist and helped her hop up the stairs.

When they reached the third floor, she caught a whiff of something delicious from his open door. She also saw a very large black dog.

"I didn't know you had a dog. He must be very quiet," she said, looking at him. She was trying to figure out what kind of dog it was. She decided on a Portuguese Water Dog, although she could be wrong…

"What? Oh! He's not mine. I'm looking after him for a friend," he said.

"That's nice of you. What's his name?"

"The dog's?"

"Yes."

"Padfoot. Although my friend's kid calls him Snuffles." The dog barked and began furiously wagging its tail. "Would you like to come in and have dinner? It doesn't look like you can make yourself something to eat like that. Besides, you can soak your foot down here before going upstairs," offered Remus. The dog stared at him in a way that Tonks suspected was almost angry. But it was a dog, so that couldn't be, right?

"All right, if I'm not imposing," she said, a little sheepishly.

"Not at all. I've made enough food for an escaped convict who hasn't had a proper meal in decades," said Remus, smiling.

He helped her hop into his apartment. She had never been inside before. The one time that they had slept together had been in her apartment upstairs. Other than that, they had only had polite conversations when they bumped into each other in the stairwell, usually on the way to or coming home from work.

The apartment itself looked nice. It was freshly painted, light, roomy, but the furniture was rather shabby, something that didn't surprise her because its occupant was a werewolf who was often out of work.

He sat her down by the kitchen table and conjured a tub of warm water into which she placed her right foot. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"I don't suppose you feel like telling me what happened today," he offered, placing a plate and silverware in front of her.

"Can't. Top secret. Which usually means that it has already been leaked to the Daily Prophet."

"Why?"

"Well…I really can't tell you."

"Who would I tell?" asked Remus. Padfoot barked. "Shut up, Padfoot."

"Well…it's mostly that I can't tell you because…well…why the hell not?" There really was no reason not to tell him. He was in no way affiliated with the ministry. If anything, he was probably anti-ministry at the moment because of the Werewolf Acts that had been signed this past year. She hadn't been able to look him in the face for a week after that had happened. Not that it was her fault in any way, but she still felt guilty. He was such a nice, polite, clean man. There was no reason on earth he should have to be subjected to such an atrocious law.

"Have you heard the rumors?" she began.

"What rumors?" he prodded.

"The ones that…You-Know-Who is back, that he killed that poor Diggory boy a week ago and that Harry Potter fought him and escaped?"

"I've…heard a whisper…"

"Well, Fudge believes it's complete bullshit. Thinks that Dumbledore is trying to unseat him and that Potter has gone mad and that Diggory's death was a freak accident. He's been going from department to department saying that if anyone believes Dumbledore, they can go."

Remus raised his eyebrows. Tonks continued.

"Well, it's pretty hard to get your job done when you are an Auror if you are tracing down Death Eaters and trying to convince the Minister of Magic that you are doing it—not because you believe You-Know-Who is back—but because you are a bloody Auror and it is your bloody job. So a lot of us have been a bit ticked off."

"Do you think he's back?" asked Remus.

"I don't know. I don't have any information. But I was talking to Shacklebolt today and we both believe that, whether or not he is back, the Ministry should at least react appropriately to the claims that he is: heighten security, keep the public informed, not suppress the Aurors who are hunting his known followers."

"But do you think he's back?" repeated Remus.

She looked at him. She couldn't read his face, and she was usually very good at deducing what someone was thinking. He was staring at her intently. His hands were clasped on the table. His jaw was tight. Was he asking because he was scared, or was he asking because he knew something?

What could he know though? He's an unemployed werewolf.

An unemployed werewolf who was at Hogwarts when Black appeared there a year ago, an unemployed werewolf who was a known school friend of Black's, an unemployed werewolf whose last serious job came from Dumbledore, an unemployed werewolf who was trying to get her to state her position on You-Know-Who's return.

Either he was a Death Eater or he was supporting Dumbledore.

The fire alarm went off.

"Shit," said Remus, leaping to his feet. He hurried over to the oven and opened it and pulled out a rather burned looking lasagna. He opened the window right above the stove and began waving the smoke out of it.

He did not have a Dark Mark on his left forearm.

Tonks breathed a sigh of relief. She really did not want to have to arrest him.

"I think," she said slowly as he continued fanning the smoke, "that Dumbledore has rarely been wrong about anything that has ever had anything to do with You-Know-Who. His followers…maybe…but rarely him. I think that if Dumbledore says he's back, he has a legitimate reason to believe it and we should all, at the very least, be very, very nervous."

"Will you excuse me for half a moment?" Remus was already out of the room.

She watched him go and sighed wistfully to herself.

She definitely had a very large soft spot for Remus Lupin. He was easily the most considerate shag she had ever had, and was also a decent, well-spoken man.

Padfoot placed his head on her knee. She stroked him behind his ears.

"I like him a lot, you know," she whispered to the dog.

He wagged his tail.

"Right," said Remus, coming back into the kitchen, "Sorry I left that in too long. But I bet we can scrape the burned bits off and it will still taste all right."

"Thanks so much for inviting me over. My foot really feels better."

"I put wormwood in the water. That should have helped it."

"It's barely throbbing," said Tonks, gratefully.

"Good." He served her some lasagna. It was only really burned on the surface. "I'd leave that to cool for a few minutes," he suggested.

"Thanks," she smiled, "What about you. Do you think he could be back?"

Remus paused. "Yes. I do. I taught Harry for a year and he is not in any way mentally unstable. He does not want any form of attention, unlike how he was portrayed in The Prophet last week, and if he says he saw Voldemort come back and fought him, I believe he's telling the truth. And if Dumbledore agrees with him, I think that it is definitely the truth."

She nodded. Padfoot barked.

"That's what Shacklebolt was saying the other day. I mean…he doesn't know Potter, but he said that you couldn't take anything Rita Skeeter said to heart, and that she was probably just looking for a new angle. He thinks that the worst thing that could possibly happen is if You-Know-Who is back and Black gets back to him."

Padfoot growled.

"Calm down, Padfoot," ordered Remus.

"It would be horrible if You-Know-Who got his right hand man back. What the hell is that?" Tonks shot back in her chair, slopping water everywhere. A huge silvery thing had appeared and was looking at Remus. Then it spoke with Dumbledore's voice.

"If you think you can do it on your own, go right ahead. I am in my office if you need me."

"That," said Remus, "is how the Order of the Phoenix communicates."

She stared at him.

"That would be a patronus?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I'll explain later. Look, I think—and Dumbledore agrees—that if you were at all interested, you would make an excellent Order member."

"If it's worth anything, Moony, I agree as well," came a voice.

Tonks jerked her head around and yelled, reaching for her wand. It wasn't there.

"You are looking for this, and I'll give it back when I have explained," said Remus, calmly, "Sirius, that was preemptive."

"I'm hungry. I want my lasagna, thank you very much. It was supposed to be for me, until you invited her over," complained Sirius.

"Well, help yourself."

"What is he doing here," said Tonks, very loudly.

"Well, I was going to mention him later, but since he has decided to undercut my authority, I'll get to him first.

"Sirius Black is innocent of all the crimes of which he has ever been accused by a court of law. Everything he has been accused of was actually performed by another wizard, a wizard more cunning than we could have believed this time fifteen years ago."

"And this wizard would be…"

"Peter Pettigrew," said Sirius, sitting down at the table with a large plate of lasagna. He began shoveling food into his mouth.

Tonks began to laugh incredulously.

"Peter Pettigrew? You can't honestly expect me to believe…I mean…he's dead. He killed him," she said, gesturing to Sirius.

"If only wishing made it so," said Sirius, bitterly.

"Sirius, that is revolting. Kindly finish chewing before speaking in the future. Sirius certainly intended to kill Peter. But, unfortunately, he failed. If he had succeeded, Voldemort would not be back."

"So Petttigrew brought You-Know-Who back?" Tonks was having trouble believing that.

"He did, yes. He also killed Cedric Diggory in the graveyard in Little Hangleton a little over a week ago."

"Where is the proof for that?" demanded Tonks.

"Unfortunately, we can't produce any," said Sirius, sheepishly.

"Well, I can't just take your word for that. I mean, I'm an Auror. There's a ten-thousand galleon price on your head because you killed thirteen people and no evidence besides your word that you are innocent, and frankly…that's not good enough for me. I know what Blacks are like."

"Really? You know what Blacks are like? When did you last encounter a Black who was not your mother, Nymphadora Tonks. I believe, unless I am very much mistaken, that it was me. And as for proof, ask your mum three questions about me. Before I 'turned traitor' what did I think of loyalty, hanging around people more intelligent or good-looking than myself, and any kind of muggle or muggle-born persecution. Then, ask her, based on her knowledge of Peter Pettigrew, what he felt about those same things."

"That won't prove anything," began Tonks. God she was tired. She had had enough of this before she had gotten home and now it was continuing? Where is the proof that Dumbledore is right? It is merely consistent with his testimony from the last time around. There is no evidence to the contrary. Why couldn't people just produce hard proof and make her life easy. Like when Remus hadn't had the—

"Show me your left forearm," she commanded.

"What? Oh! Good point that." Sirius rolled up his sleeve. His arm was pale, and scarred, but not tattooed.

"Right…" she said.

"Look, Dumbledore believes me," began Sirius, "as does Harry and his best mates. The Weasley family, Professors McGonagall and Snape—"

"Snape?"

"Well, he still hates me more than anyone alive, I reckon, but he knows I didn't do it, and that Pettigrew is alive. I am, and always have been, a proud member of the Order of the Phoenix, because—rather like yourself, I imagine—I think it is the best way to balance out the dastardly deeds that the rest of my inbred and idiotic family thinks are appropriate for the average wizard. As far as I know, your mum and I are the only living Blacks who have been blasted off the family tree in my mother's sitting room and, frankly, I am quite proud of that."

"I thought you said you were loyal," said Tonks.

"I am, but I never said I was loyal to my family, did I? I hated pretty much all of them. Anyway, this is going in circles. Either you believe the evidence before you in the form of my forearm, or you are going to go turn me in, under which circumstances, I must away, Remus."

"Well, if you are to go away, at least go to the…place."

"Yeah. Even though I would rather drop dead than go there."

"I'm not going to turn you in," said Tonks quietly.

"Good, because I really want to finish this lasagna. When did you learn to cook, Moony?"

"About ten years ago when I was unemployed for over a year and had to pass the time somehow."

"It's delicious. Granted, I haven't had a decent meal in about…oh…since Harry's first birthday."

"Anyway," Remus turned back to Tonks, "As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, you would be on the front lines when it comes to fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters. And, as an Auror, the information you learned from the Order could flow over into your work, and vice-versa. Any means of stopping Voldemort, especially before he gets a firm hold on his new body and his restored powers, are necessary and, indeed, encouraged."

"You mean, bring any strange things I hear at work to the Order? Isn't that rather like spying?"

"Well, so long as the ministry isn't helping Dumbledore, it is hard for us to find out all we need to. We need people in the Ministry, simply because we know that Voldemort has people there, and we can't for half a moment know less than we absolutely can. We have several Order members here and there, but an Auror who is currently employed—that would be fantastic," said Remus.

"Also," added Sirius, "if you could sound out people who might not rat you out and try to induct them...that would be nice."

"You mean like Shacklebolt, who thinks Fudge is one of the biggest morons ever?"

"Well, Shacklebolt for several reasons," said Remus, smiling, but not elaborating.

"How often are meetings?" asked Tonks, after a moment.

"Twice, three times a week? As many times as necessary, really," said Sirius.

"Where?"

"Dumbledore will be in touch with you about that. We can't say," said Remus.

"Fidelius charm?"

"Indeed," said Sirius, "put in place this afternoon, I believe."

Tonks sat still. She looked between the two tired looking men. Both looked old before their time. Sirius' eyes were completely blank. Remus looked tired, but the subtle defeat she remembered in his eyes so well was no longer there. He looked happy, triumphant even. She smiled to herself. He looked even better when he was happy. He looked energetic, younger.

She smiled and began to eat her lasagna. It wasn't as though her life had been boring before now. At the very least, if she was a member of the Order, she might, finally, be able to do her job.