Chapter nine

My mum has this amazing talent, by which she can give me a dressing-down under her breath, and at the same time be smiling and waving greetings to other guests as we pass by their tables, looking entirely composed. It's unbelievable. She really should be in a ruddy circus or something.

"…would it be so terrible to wear the hair you were born with…yes, hello, Maeve, you look lovely tonight! …you're blessed with gorgeous chestnut hair the rest of us can only get with potions…Howard, you devil! How do you still look so splendid in a tux at your age…ha,ha…and you act like it's something to hide"

By the time we reach our table, though, she seems to have gotten her annoyance with me out of her system, because she does tell me how "breathtaking" I look in the dress. I always thought this was a strange compliment. Dementor of fashion, I am.

My sweet, adorable father sneaks me a conspiratorial smile and pulls out my chair for me. I gather my skirt to sit, all the while deciding whether I am going to proceed with Option A: get pissed, or Option B: come up with an excuse to knock off early.

As I consider this, however, I hear my mother say, "Curtis, here you are. You look dashing, sweetie. I'm so glad you could join us." I look across the table and watch, dumbstruck, as she kisses him fondly on the cheek. You've got to be joking.

He smiles his hello and speaks something to her that I cannot hear over the din of the growing crowd in the room. My father, still at my back waiting for me to sit in the chair he's holding, whispers in my ear, "Sit down, Mouse. You're staring."

Hurriedly, I do sit down, just as Curtis makes his way over, and gestures to the chair next to mine. "May I?" he inquires politely. I resist the temptation to shoot eye daggers at my mother and smile back at him instead.

"Of course, Curtis. It's great to see you. How are you?"

"I'm well, Tonks. Thanks." He sits, and looks down at the table in front of us, smoothing out the linen tablecloth. Shite. We didn't even make it half a minute before the awkwardness took over.

My dad makes his hello to Curtis, and immediately my mum bustles back over before any actual conversation can occur. "Boys, would you mind terribly going to get us some champagne?" They oblige, of course, and they are barely out of earshot when I turn back to her.

"I really can't believe you would do this."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're on about, Nymphadora." She pretends to straighten her gloves. Holy shite, she's wearing gloves…what's that all about? Wait, I mustn't be distracted by the gloves.

"I don't have the patience to go round in circles, Mum. Just tell me, so I know what's expected of me. Did you invite him to be my date tonight? Is this a setup?"

She actually snorts at me. "Don't flatter yourself, dear. Curtis doesn't need an invite from you to be here. If you recall – although perhaps you've chosen not to – he's well-respected in this community. He's an invited guest."

"But you had some say in the seating charts, no?" She doesn't answer, but grins mischievously.

"Oh, crikey."

We can see the men making their way back to the table, so Mum says rather quickly under her breath, "It may interest you to know that he declined to bring a guest before the committee started looked at seating arrangements." And she gives me a meaningful look, as if somehow this bit of information settles the matter.

Once we are blessed with drinks, my mother takes one sip and quickly shepherds my father to the dance floor, explaining, "The orchestra is so wonderful I can't resist!" As if my being left alone with Curtis is a complete coincidence.

I smile at him in a casual way, and try my level best not to inhale the contents of my flute with one gulp. We chat for a couple of minutes about our jobs, and then politics. And when I actually resort to an observation about the weather, he clears his throat and changes the tone of the conversation.

"Look, Tonks, I don't want this …awkwardness between us to ruin the evening. So I'm just going to get it over with. Are you seeing anyone?"

"Curtis …"

"It's okay, Tonks," he shrugs. "Really, it is. I figured there's no way you wouldn't be. Not by now, I mean." He looks a bit wistful, but to my relief, neither hurt nor angry.

I'm guess I'm still staring, so he continues. "So, that's a yes, then?"

"Yes," I say quietly. "I'm … seeing someone."

"Anyone I know?" I shake my head.

"Is it serious?" Good question.

I look away at the orchestra, and hedge a bit. "Um, it's still a bit new. I'm not really sure where it's heading." That's not entirely true. I'm not unsure about anything; I just don't know what I can count on yet.

"Is he good to you?" This question surprises me more than a little, and I look quickly back to him. He's not jealous. He just wants to know.

"He's a good man, Curtis. I trust him completely." He nods, and smiles at me, and we are okay.

After that, things take an immediate turn for the better. Curtis and I seem to have concluded, in some sort of unspoken way, that we may as well enjoy ourselves. We dance a little, drink a lot, poke fun at the social elite, and in general have a pretty good time.

I had forgotten how much fun he could be to just kick around with. The end of our time as a couple was so strained, and when you finish with someone you always tend to remember only the end. How depressing is that? Exceptionally depressing, that's how. I don't want to do that.

I find myself somewhat grateful for my mother's manipulative tendencies; they don't net her the results she's after, but they've worked out well for Curtis and me. We needed to round things out in this way.

By the end of the party, we're having a blast, and I'm actually sad to notice when the festivities seem to begin to wind down. After saying good night to my parents, Curtis and I walk out in to the cooler foyer to get ready to leave.

Suddenly, I'm incredibly worried that I'm going to botch everything by saying something stupid – something that he might misinterpret as a come-on or a brush-off, and I don't want to give either impression.

I think he senses my apprehension, because he flashes me a very warm smile and says, "Thanks, Tonks. I had a great time tonight. Maybe we can have a drink or something sometime. I'd hate to lose touch completely."

"I think I'd like that. But let's not be those people who say they're going to do it. Let's really do it, yeah?"

"Absolutely." And he pulls me into a great hug, and I am a bit nostalgic, I must admit. He smells the same (in other words, great), and he looks bloody fantastic in his tux. I'd be inclined to take him home again were I not helplessly in love with someone else.

When I look up at him, I say, "I'm glad my mum is a conniving bint sometimes." He laughs, and kisses my forehead, which is not an entirely unpleasant thing. And then we say good night and Disapparate to our respective destinations.

0o0o0

Next morning comes with a bit of a hangover, but not enough to make me linger in bed for very long. I'm too anxious to get back to Number Twelve and its occupants. One occupant, in particular.

After a quick shower, I throw my things in a bag and Apparate straight into the kitchen, where I encounter Molly, Arthur and Remus sitting at the table, and Sirius at the stove, where he is, unbelievably, cooking. The pop of my arrival causes all heads to turn in my direction.

"Aha! Here's the debutante, now," announces foodie Sirius, spatula in hand.Here we go. I shouldn't have come back to retrieve the earrings last night; he'll take the piss out of me for ages about my out-of-character girlishness.

I decide not to bite. "Morning, everyone. Remus, feeling better?"

He nods, swallowing his tea. "I suppose a bit, yes. I'm always sore for an extra day or two after a transformation when the weather's like this." He does look a bit peaky. If I were brave enough I'd go kiss him. I notice, though, out of the corner of my eye, that Molly is beaming at me, apparently waiting to say something.

I turn to her. "Molly?"

"Good, morning, dear," she gushes. "You looked stunning last night. I so wish I'd seen you in person."

Sirius snorts. "She was indeed captivating," he says exaggeratedly.

He's getting rather annoying. "Sirius, what the hell are you on about? And more important, why are you wearing an apron?"

"Molly's day off," he announces, although she looks anything but pleased about it.

As she and Arthur excuse themselves to go round up the children, Arthur says to me, "I take it you've not seen the newspaper this morning, then?" and hands it to me across the table.

"No, actually I Disapparated from inside my flat -"

I cut myself short when I see the huge photo on the front of the Prophet. Above the fold.

"Seems you're a right little celebrity, cousin," says Sirius, smirking.

The picture is of Curtis and me at the ball last night. I watch in horror as he repeatedly wraps his arms around me and leans down to place a tender kiss on my forehead. Looking like a lovestruck …well, girl, I close my eyes and appear to blush profusely at the gesture. After seeing it several times, my eyes find the small story beneath it.

Power Couple

Clearly captivated by the alluring Auror Nymphadora Tonks, rising publishing executive Curtis Martin steals a kiss from his escort at last night's high-profile benefit gala for St. Mungo's. According to a close friend, the two were inseparable at the event, leaving no one to wonder of the nature of their relationship. Although no date has been announced, this could prove to be a prominent alliance.

"I was not his escort! He was there on his own." I toss the paper down on the table. "Damn, I hate this bloody rag. Have they ever gotten a story straight?"

"You look like you had a nice time, though," says Remus quietly from over his teacup. "I didn't know you'd seen him lately." I look up at him, surprised.

Holy shite, is he jealous? I never would have predicted that.

"Gah… Curtis and I are just friends now. It's all good."

Sirius, being Sirius, snorts at this. "Oh, dear, sweet, girl. You can't tell me you don't see that one from a mile away."

"Sorry?" I really don't know what he's talking about.

"Come on, Tonks. Blokes who want to be your friend are generally trying to get into your knickers. Especially if they've been there before."

"Sirius, it was perfectly fine. He's a good bloke."

"Good blokes are the worst perpetrators of this strategy, isn't that right, Moony?" Sirius finds the whole thing quite entertaining. I look at Remus for his reaction.

For his part, Remus doesn't look very amused. "Sirius, stop it. I'm sure Tonks is tired. She doesn't need your two knuts just now." He doesn't look at me for very long.

He is jealous, and forgive me, but it feels damn good to get a reaction out of him. Even if it is a bit childish of me to enjoy it.

I'd like to put him at ease. Say something about how I'm not all that tired. That I was home in bed, alone, before 11. But I don't have the opportunity because at that very moment, Harry, Hermione and Ron walk into the kitchen abuzz with back-to-school chatter and energy.

Remus meets my eyes for a moment, and then greets them warmly, filling them in on our trip back to Hogwarts as they eat a hurried breakfast, served with much fanfare and theatrics by Sirius.

Before long, it's time to go. I run into the loo and morph, making myself a bit taller and a lot older, with rather distinguished looking grey hair. I also change into the wool suit I was instructed to bring, before emerging looking like one of my mother's mah-jongg friends. Remus and the kids are all pulling on cloaks and I bring up the rear, herding them down the steps toward the square.

I am not a fan of traveling by Knight Bus. I like moving in fast forward, not stop and start. I see little of Remus after we climb aboard, as he takes half of our charges to some seats near the back. The Weasleys seem intrigued by the novelty of the vehicle, but by the end of the bumpy journey the appeal has lost its luster, so to speak. No one is sorry to disembark at Hogsmeade. The bus rolls past town right on up to the gates of the school before making an abrupt stop.

We get the kids' luggage sorted out, and Remus pulls Harry aside to have a word. About Sirius, perhaps. I quickly survey the trees that edge the snowy road back up to the village. But it looks all clear.

Finally, we say our goodbyes to the kids, who waste no time in heading for the castle gates.

Without consulting me, Remus dismisses the bus, and it vanishes with a BANG, which startles me even though I know it's coming. And then Remus and I are left standing in the snowy silence of the deserted road.

"Not planning on the return trip, I see?"

"I hate that bloody bus," he says. "I thought we'd just Apparate back." I nod my endorsement of the idea.

"Fancy grabbing a bite in the village first?" He asks. "I'm famished…Wasn't up to Sirius's breakfast, I'm afraid."

"But we can't be seen together," I reply.

He just grins at me. "Madam, if anyone guesses who you are today, I'd eat my hat." Oh, right. I had almost forgotten I was in disguise. Was a bit distracted.

"You are a sneaky one, Mr. Lupin. There will be rumors of your budding affair with a middle-aged mystery woman." He proffers his arm, which I take, and we begin to walk briskly up the hill toward the Three Broomsticks.

It's warm and cozy in the pub, in contrast to the bitter day we leave outside, and it feels brilliant to sit still after the horrendous bus ride.

Remus wasn't kidding about being starving. He orders a huge meal and tucks right in. I wonder if he's always like that when he's trying to get his strength back after the moon. I wonder a lot of things.

It's nice to have a meal just the two of us for a change. Especially one during which we don't talk about the Order, or Sirius, or the Ministry. All are topics to be avoided in a public place, so instead we talk about everything and nothing at all, and laugh a lot over our dinner. We've never been on an actual date, and heaven knows this still isn't one, but it's lovely anyway.

Rosmerta comes over to chat, and Remus introduces me as his sister, visiting from out of town. And then we have some fun with that, inventing nonexistent childhood memories. It's over all too soon, though, when we start to run out of reasons not to linger. Remus excuses himself to use the washroom, and I make to finish my meal.

Just then, Rosmerta approaches the table, to bring me the bill I assume.

"Here you are, Madam," she says warmly, and hands me a large key with a big #5 on the attached tag. "I apologize in advance for the size of the room, but Remus said you'd prefer to be on the top floor."

I try not to look too flummoxed when she adds, "He said he'd meet you up there after he went for your luggage."

"Thank you… Rosmerta, was it?" I manage in a relatively even way.

She nods, "Enjoy your stay. Don't hesitate to ring should you need anything."

I gather my cloak, and stand, remembering to ask her to point me in the right direction for good measure. It's all I can do not to sprint up the creaky stairs.

But the door opens before I have a chance to use my key. He pulls me in, closes it behind us, and then proceeds without saying anything, to kiss me. Hard.

I can't believe how much I'd missed the simple slide of his tongue in my mouth. It seems like such a small thing, but it's practically intoxicating.

After a moment, I lean back and fix my best indignant glare upon him. "Why, Remus, what kind of girl do you take me for? You're making quite an assumption, bringing me up here in broad daylight."

He's not even up for my silliness, just pulls me back in, murmuring against my lips, "Morph back to yourself, Love." Somehow I keep forgetting about the fact that I'm still disguised.

I make him wait, though. Can't resist teasing him some more, sliding my hands down to his arse. "Hmmm…are you sure that's what you want? We could have some real fun with this sister thing, you know?"

He laughs, but is impatient, nibbling that place just below my ear that must be attached to some very significant nerve centers in my brain.

"Go on, make the change," he implores. "I miss you." Well, hard to say no to that…

I feel the familiar pull as my body slides back into its own form and the prickle as my hair darkens and grows out a bit. It barely touches the tops of my shoulders before he's got his fingers tangled in it, kissing my neck.

"There you are. Much better."

We haven't been alone together in two days, but it feels like two years, and we're in a right frenzy to get closer to each other. When he brings his mouth back to mine, right away it becomes deep and hungry and wanting more. I immediately start pulling his shirt out of his trousers and slide my hands down the back of them, desperate to feel some skin. He feels the urgency, too, as he frantically struggles with the buttons on my frumpy suit jacket.

When I unbutton his trousers and my hands finally find the bare skin of his cock, he groans, and abandons his attempt to remove my jacket, instead lifting my skirt and pushing aside my knickers to touch me right away. I gasp in response against his rough chin.

My knees buckle, and I almost collapse at the easy slide of his fingers against me. I'm surprised at myself for being so wet and ready, and utterly helpless with wanting him. Hell, we've been in the room for less than a minute.

Instinctively, I lift my leg to grant him better access to his task, which to my delight, he interprets as a different signal. In one motion, he grabs the undersides of both of my thighs and lifts me clear off the floor, kissing me rather forcefully all the while.

I let out a surprised little squeak into his mouth, and instantly wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist to prevent myself from falling. But there's no chance of that; he's supporting my weight with ease, and inching us the few inches to the wall next to the door I just came through.

Slowly, he leans into me, wedging me between his body and the wall, and kissing me for all he's worth. When the surprise of being lifted subsides and my weight settles into him, I can feel his cock nudging against my slickness under my skirt.

Shite, he feels so good. I hear moaning, and suppose maybe it's coming from me. I'm tired of caution. I'm tired of holding back. I'm tired of not asking for what I want.

And so I do.

"Now, Remus," my voice sounding hoarse and unrecognizable as I beg. "God, fuck me now. Don't make me wait."

His only answer is to slide quickly into me, pushing me up into the wall and assaulting my mouth with his own. And then he begins to drive into me with abandon. There is no tenderness this time, just raw lust. And, Hell's bells, is it amazing. The wall is hard against my back, and he's pushing against me with all his strength. I'll be bruised later but really don't give a damn. The angle of our lovemaking allows him to find his way deep inside me, and I relish the sensation, leaning my head back against the wall.

He buries his face in my neck and then moves down to nip at my fully-clothed breasts, which somehow feels even better than it would if they were bare. Soon, I can feel my body running away from itself, and I fumble to hold onto something, finding only his shoulders and back within reach.

I begin to see stars. And then I hear him mumbling incoherently and grunting and I realize he's coming, too.

The unbelievably sexy music of intermingled groans and words and whimpers and gasping breaths seems to last forever, until finally, and with much stumbling, he wraps his arms around me and edges us over to the bed where we fall, gratefully.

"I thought you were still feeling a bit sore," I ponder aloud.

"Better now," he says.

"It would seem so."

He rolls on his side toward me, resting his head along his arm. "Sorry for the urgency… I'd been thinking about you since last night. Seeing you for those two minutes in that dress near killed me. Hell, I felt like a lad again, fantasizing about you."

"You looked unbelievably beautiful, Tonks." He runs his warm hand back and forth across my thigh distractedly.

"I …thank you." I can feel the blush heat my cheeks.

He looks sheepish, like he has something else to say, so I raise my brows in invitation.

Reluctantly, he admits, "I was miserable seeing that newspaper this morning. It looked like such an intimate scene."

"I didn't go home with him."

"I know." He believes me.

"And I certainly didn't set out to make you jealous."

"I know that, too."

"But you were?" I ask hopefully.

"Were what?"

"Jealous?"

"Yes." I hope I don't look too pleased. "You're smirking," he says. Oops.

"No, I'm not." I am, of course.

"Don't rub it in, alright? It's embarrassing enough to confess it." Now I'm really laughing at him, and he throws a pillow at me. Then he says, more seriously, "You looked like you were enjoying yourself, though. At the event, I mean."

"It was fun," I admit.

Remus averts his eyes, saying, "You should be out doing that sort of thing more often."

I cup his cheek to bring his eyes back to mine. "Remus, I had a good time last night. But I don't want him in my bed… and I can't fit him in my heart. It's pretty crowded in there just now."

He looks a bit uncomfortable for a moment.

"Shite, I'm sorry, Remus. I always bugger things up by talking too much…"

"Tonks…"

"First I worry I'm not giving you enough space…"

He's smiling at me. "Shut up, Tonks."

"…and then I worry I'm being too distant, and…"

He grabs me suddenly and silences me with a quick but thorough kiss, and then looks at me in earnest.

"I love you," he says plainly.

What?

I can't move; can't breathe. My heart feels extremely large, as if it occupies the entire inside of my body, where it has surely eclipsed all of those other unnecessary organs. Such as lungs. Who needs those?

"Tonks?"

"I'm sorry?"

"It's time you knew. It's not fair to you, my being so guarded. God knows, I've made a fool of myself for far less than this." I'm afraid to speak – move, even - for fear that he might retract his words, or say something to confirm my fear that I heard him wrong.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concerned at my continued silence.

"I … yes. Just a bit stunned. What happened to caution?"

"Bit late for that, I'd say." He looks a little anxious, as if now that he's hearing the words leave his mouth he's not so sure he should be saying them. I nod, hoping to whoever's listening that he'll elaborate.

"Tonks…you came barreling into my seemingly ordered world and knocked me flat on my arse. I thought maybe this could be a casual thing between friends. But that's bullshite…the truth is, I've been in love with you since the moment you stepped through that door at Number Twelve. It's just plain absurd to call it anything else."

Not until this very moment, as I surrender to the lovely sensation of my heart spreading its wings, do I realize how much I've been playing it safe with my emotions. I wrap myself into his body and cling to him, not knowing what to say that could possibly express the range of emotions I feel for this man.

"Remus, I love every single thing about you. Even the parts you're not so fond of."

"I know," he murmurs into my hair. "You're still here."

0o0o0o

Remus and I return to Grimmauld Place two hours later to find Molly and Arthur have packed up and returned to the Burrow. Now that the children are back to school, and Arthur is well, there is no reason for them to be here, excepting Order meetings.

Sirius is sitting alone in the parlour, glass in hand, and looks a little bleary-eyed. Still, he musters a teasing look at us.

"Well, well, well…look what the cat brought in. Nice afternoon, you two?"

"Lovely," Remus says, looking at me rather than Sirius. And not hiding it.

Sirius says, "Thought maybe you'd stay on in the village for the night. Have some time to yourselves." He knows full well how long ago we dropped the kids off, and what we've been doing since then.

"Don't be daft," I say, "I'm glad to have the house back to ourselves. Are you going to share that, or not? Remus, would you mind fetching some more glasses?"

Remus gives me an appreciative glance before heading off to the kitchen. Sirius smiles, passes the bottle, and pats the spot on settee next to him. Which I take.

And just like that, we're back to business as usual at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.