2. Hearth and Home

The anti-Apparition spells around Remus' property required Tonks to Apparate to the village a mile away. Materialising in a shadowy car park behind The Snakecatcher public house, she took out her broomstick and mounted up to fly the rest of the way through the forest to the cottage.

Not the cabin for very much longer, Tonks, she thought as she weaved a low path in and out of the trees alongside the path beaten by human feet, cattle, and Muggle cars. His and yours. The Lupin Estate, as he said the first Christmas he brought you. The home of Mr. and Mrs. Remus Lupin. And you're to be the Mrs! Soon!

Not soon enough.

Tonks leant further over her broom, picking up speed. The trees streaked past in her peripheral, their weathered trunks silver in the moonlight, casting long shadows over her and looming over the path. When they grew fewer and father between, she descended slowly until she touched down in a clearing where the track narrowed into a mere sliver of a footpath that stopped at a ramshackle picket fence demarking the tiny plot of forest land that belonged to Remus.

And soon to you!

The windows of the grey brick cottage, lit with warm, flickering lamplight, beckoned her to come in. Tonks was eager to see the man who would soon be her husband, who was giving her this, but she found herself dawdling as she opened the gate, drinking in the heady fragrance of wisteria growing over the arch. With the warm July breeze wrapping around her, the scent worked on her almost like a drug or...

Amortentia.

She'd always smelt wisteria wafting on the summer breeze whenever she'd been around the potion, but had never known why. Nor had she ever visited Remus' home in summer, when it was in bloom, to make the connection.

Then, as if she'd actually drunk the love potion, she snapped out of her daze and bolted through the gate, in too big a rush to be sure it latched properly behind her, tripping over the haphazard path of stepping stones half-buried in long, patchy grass and last autumn's un-raked fallen leaves.

A moment of silence followed Tonks' rap on the door of the cottage. Thinking Remus must not have heard, engaged in some other part of the house -- you ought to see about installing a doorbell -- she raised her fist to knock again. She didn't, however, as at that very moment, a thumping from within, overhead, signified Remus descending the rickety staircase directly on the other side of the wall from where she was stood on the stoop. Tonks glanced up at the little fanlight window above the door just in time to see him at the turn in the staircase, glancing over his shoulder out the window and grinning down at her with a quick wave. He'd rounded the corner before she could wave back, and then his muffled voice sounded just on the other side of the door.

"Who's there?"

Tonks rolled her eyes and started to say, Open the door, you paranoid great prat, you've just seen me, but remembered how she'd just lectured Des for not going through the security procedures.

Practice what you preach, Auror!

Gritting her teeth, she said, "It's me, Tonks, and I won't say my Christian name, given to me by my fool of a mother Andromeda Black Tonks, even for security purposes. I turn my hair pink to signify I've had great sex, my Patronus used to be a pig called Wilbur that I loved to make grunt and snort, but last autumn it changed to the werewolf form of Remus Lupin, who proposed to me last night in bed, and who calls me--"

The door swung inward and revealed a smirking Remus leaning against the jamb. "Hello, Elphine. You could've stopped at it's me, you know. I know my fiancée by her grammar."

Tonks wanted to roll her eyes again, but found it impossible with every facial muscle was busy pulling an ear-to-ear grin because Remus had called her his fiancée.

Still, she managed to say, "Just like I know mine cos he's a git."

"Gentleman, I think, is the G-word you're looking for."

Remus stood aside to let her pass through the door, leaning in to steal a quick kiss, then pushed the door shut behind her and slipped her rucksack off her shoulders.

"Are all your things in here?" he asked.

Tonks nodded, absently, as she sniffed the air at the foot of the narrow staircase. "What's that smell? It's like--"

She looked at Remus, who wore the look of a Marauder who'd clearly been up to something; for the first time, she noticed he was dishevelled and unshaven, bare-foot, wearing a burgundy t-shirt that read Professors do it by the book (a birthday present from Des, when he was still teaching and to her just the older man in Tonks' life rather than the werewolf ruining it), and a pair of frayed, grungy jeans speckled with pale green--

"Have you been painting?" Tonks asked.

Grin widening, Remus set her bag on the floor, grabbed her hand, and pulled her after him as he mounted the stairs.

"Seriously?" she said, stumbling a little up the steps as he, with more energy and enthusiasm than she'd seen in...far too long...took them two at a time. "I thought you said you had lots of Order work today..."

Her voice trailed off as they reached the landing and found the upstairs corridor narrower than usual as it was strewn with stacks of boxes which she could only assume had come from the bedroom he'd never shown her before, the door to which stood wide open. No light shone from within, but she definitely smelled paint, along with the fainter sweet wisteria that told her the windows in the room were open, letting in the breeze.

"I did have," said Remus. "In case you haven't heard, two of our members are to be married and are in the market for a safe house -- which includes up-to-date security wards and fresh paint jobs."

"Paint jobs? What, is there some sort of Dark Creature I never learned about in DADA that lives in old paint?"

"Very clever, Miss Tonks! Ten points to Hufflepuff. There is, indeed, a variety of Doxy called the Pixienti Pixie--"

"Pixies that eat paint for breakfast?" Tonks cringed. "I expected a hell of a lot more creative use of Latin vocabulary from you."

"--whose appearance is almost indistinguishable from the paint flakes upon which its diet is solely based."

"Sounds like something you read in one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books."

"Madam," said Remus, dropping her hand and pressing his fist over his chest, but not managing to squelch his chuckle, "you wound me."

"I can't say I'm sorry," Tonks told him, because even in jest it seemed completely wrong to apologise to a laughing man who hadn't done in so long.

Aside from the fact that she thought Remus was dead sexy like this, at home and comfortably unkempt in his own space (and yours, too!), he looked so happy. There was a hint of fatigue on his features, as there always seemed to be, but it was nothing at all like the utter world-weariness that had etched itself so deeply, and so seemingly irrevocably, over the course of the past few years -- especially the most recent months of his mission. Now he simply looked like any other man who'd been hard at work from early in the morning to late at night preparing a home for his bride-to-be. (That's you!) His smile was satisfied, and reached his eyes, which crinkled at the corners in the way that gave his rather ordinary face such character.

Looking at him, Tonks realised all over again that if there was one thing she wanted out of life, it was to know this man inside and out. Her heart swelled with gratitude to whatever powers that were that her dogged persistence had paid off, and she'd got another chance with him. A permanent chance. A lifetime to spend with him, exploring him, seeing to it that she kept him smiling like that.

Her face mirroring his expression, Tonks said, "I did hear a rumour that a couple of Order members were tying the knot. Show me the love nest?"

Remus pulled his wand from the back pocket of his jeans and, rather incongruously with his relaxed appearance, gave it a precise flick at the doorway that made yellow light spill out the room into the unlit corridor. When Tonks lingered a moment, mesmerised by the highlighted golden strands of his hair, he laid a hand on her shoulder, turned her, and gave her a gentle nudge toward the room.

The master bedroom wasn't much larger than the one they usually slept in, Remus' childhood bedroom -- the only other bedroom in the house -- but the ceiling was a bit higher, with dormer windows, and so felt more expansive. Yet there was a cosy quality, as well.

In one corner stood a fireplace, where a small blaze of magical fire -- ambient fire, producing no heat -- crackled in the grate. Remus had painted the plastered walls a tranquil pale green that made Tonks feel rather like she was nestled in one of the treetops surrounding the house, in spring when the leaves were new; here and there hung oil landscape paintings of New Forest scenes. The floors, which only this morning must have been layered with year's worth of dust, were waxed to a high shine, dotted with woven rugs. White muslin curtains hung in all the windows, fluttering in the breeze, almost as if they were waving their welcome to Tonks.

As in the living room directly below, the bedroom furniture was old and a hodgepodge of mismatched pieces; but Tonks liked eclectic, and thought everything fit here, fit them, from the cherry wardrobe that couldn't possibly have fit up the stairs except by magic; to the white-painted wrought-iron bedstead with a double wedding-ring quilt in shades of peach and green covering a rather lumpy, voluminous feather mattress (on which her Kneazle, Cato, was curled up napping -- or had been, though he was now glaring at her through yellow slits of eyes for disturbing his slumber); to the pair of Louis XV reproduction bedside tables that had drawers for night-time reading material and just enough room on top for a candlestick and a cup of cocoa; to the chunky, rustic bureau that might be pine, but was hidden beneath so many layers of paint you really couldn't know for certain, the latest colour being a muted black with faded fleur-de-lis stencilled in gold on the drawers; to bookshelves of varying heights and wood grains, some crammed with books, though a few vacant shelves indicated Remus had condensed them today in order to make room for her own.

"Do you think this will do for the happy couple?" Remus' voice slipped quietly into her thoughts.

Her cheeks aching with her smile, Tonks whirled to face him, wobbling a little as her cloak tangled around her legs, and flung her arms around his neck.

"It'll more than do," she said. "We'll be a very happy couple here."

His eyes were so light as he smiled down at her that they appeared almost translucent. "I must confess that I am very relieved you didn't walk in and become sick at the sight of the green."

Laughing, Tonks hugged him tighter and stretched up on her toes to kiss his chin. "It's a lovely shade. Very tranquil."

"Mm. That's what I had in mind."

He touched his lips softly to hers, then disengaged himself from her and moved to straighten a picture that hung a bit cockeyed on the wall.

"Merlin knows we need a bit of tranquillity in our lives when we can get it. Though I did wonder if I shouldn't go with bubblegum pink, to inspire lots of great sex."

"I don't think we really need our walls to inspire us, do we?"

"Precisely why I settled on green in the end."

They laughed, then Tonks asked, "You didn't tell me you were going to do this."

"Spontaneous marriage proposals breed spontaneous redecorating."

Remus looked over his shoulder at her as he grinned mischievously, but as he cast another look all around the room, Tonks saw his brow furrow. He was inspecting, critiquing -- she knew from the tell-tale gestures of his fingers tugging at the hair at the base of his neck and him chewing his bottom lip.

Abruptly, he turned to her. "You don't mind, do you? I suppose I should have consulted you first -- it's to be your home, as well."

"Of course I don't mind -- as long as you don't mind me adding a few personal touches. Accio Rucksack!"

After a moment of hearing her bag clunking up the stairs, it hovered through the door, looking as if it were being carried by an invisible person with very poor upper body strength, then dropped onto her toes. Thankfully, she still wore her heavy work boots.

Relief wiped away the lines of concern from Remus' face, but one sandy eyebrow rose. "You may do whatever strikes your fancy in here, though I do have one request."

Tonks mirrored his expression. "Which is?"

"That you not hang your Myron Wagtail poster over our bed."

"Deal." Tonks opened her rucksack, rifled through it, and unfurled a poster. "You don't mind about Gideon Crumb, then?"

"Certainly not. I can't think of anything more romantic than being serenaded by an extremely hairy bagpiper as I make love to you."

Tonks glanced at the blank wall over the curlicue iron headboard. "Wouldn't that make Gideon more of a bagpeeper?"

Though a snort of laughter undermined him, Remus made a valiant effort at looking appalled as he snatched the poster from her hands.

"Oi!" Tonks tried to grab it back from him, but Remus turned his body, effectively blocking her.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking smugly over his shoulder, "but I'm going to have to renege that offer to let you add a few personal touches. In fact, I think your Weird Sisters paraphernalia ought to be disposed of entirely, lest any children we might one day have be corrupted by punk rock music as you clearly have been."

Tonks dropped her rucksack and balled her hands into fists, pummelling him playfully on the back as, laughing, she shot back a smart-arse retort. She felt, though, as if she were observing herself in a dream, her brain disengaged from her actions and words as it remained fixated on Remus': any children we might one day have.

He's never talked to you before about having kids.

Oh, she knew he was joking, and that joking wasn't the same as really talking. Hell, it didn't even mean it was necessarily something he'd thought about.

In light of Des' earlier questions, though, Tonks couldn't stop herself getting hung up on the fact that this was new for him, for them. Remus must be embracing this marriage thing whole hippogriff if he was making that sort of joke -- hadn't he?

And there's your segue to ask about kids before you go through with this wedding.

She mentally snorted derisively at herself.

Right, and just what are you planning to say? "I reckon since you mentioned them, our theoretical children won't have any furry little problems beyond theoretical pet rabbits that may not have any more penchant for good behaviour than me?"

"Something wrong?" Remus asked.

Tonks realised that at some point during her reverie, his laughter had died, and he'd relieved himself of the poster and turned around to face her, his fingers laced together at the small of her back. His face, a moment ago young-looking in his animation, had creased once again with those concerned lines that always drew attention to the grey hair at his temples.

Damn you, Tonks! Didn't you just swear to keep him smiling?

"Nothing," she said, shaking herself and forcing her voice to sound unconcerned, feeling like a great hypocrite for hiding her feelings when she'd been after him for so bloody long to open up to her, and he was only just coming around. "Just something Des said."

Lips pressing together in a thin line, Remus' hands slid from around her waist as he stepped back and sat on a bench with a faded emerald green velvet cushion at the foot of the bed.

"What reason did you give her for moving out?" he asked.

Tonks felt a little short of breath as her pulse sped up. She was supposed to have kept their engagement a secret from everyone but their closest friends in the Order, and her family. It wasn't that she disagreed; she knew they would launch themselves to the top of the Death Eaters' -- namely, Bellatrix Lestrange's -- hit list if word got out that a werewolf had been added to the Black family tree, even if only the burned-off branch. The fewer people that knew their exact relationship, the safer they would remain. Merlin knew they needed every bit of security they could get these days. But Des was one of Tonks' closest friends. Would Remus be angry that she'd told?

"Too dangerous," she blurted.

He gawped up at her.

"Really," Tonks said. "It just popped out. And Des asked if you'd rubbed off on me."

Remus' lips twitched.

"Oh, God," Tonks muttered, rolling her eyes. She Summoned a throw pillow from the bed and bashed him about the head with it. "What are you, twelve?"

His hoarse laugh rang out as he ducked his head and raised a hand, half-heartedly fending off her blows.

"This is your flatmate Des we're talking about. Des, who gave me this very rude t-shirt and who is, without a doubt, the female version of Sirius Black."

"They'd have made a great couple."

"If by 'great' you mean 'patently offensive'."

"Course I do!"

"And you can't fault my brain for going there, Elphine." Remus caught the pillow and held it still. "I did, after all, share a dormitory with Sirius for seven years, and another year at Grimmauld, and you couldn't spend that much time in such close quarters without Sirius rub--"

He stopped himself as Tonks raised her eyebrow.

"--affecting you," he amended.

It was probably cruel, given the way Remus' ordinarily poised, composed face had gone all pink, but Tonks couldn't resist goading him. "Infected, more like."

The flush faded as Remus rolled his eyes. "Rather a case of the pot calling the cauldron black, isn't it, when you're clearly equally infected by your even longer term housemate?"

"Or is it the punk rock music?"

"I think I'd be more keen on exposing the children to the Weird Sisters than to Des."

"I'll strike through her name on the list of potential babysitters, then, and add Gideon and Myron."

It was a miracle she'd been able to think of a jokey reply, as her brain was going haywire.

That's twice now, Tonks. There's a door standing wide open for you to talk about kids. Des is right -- it is the sort of thing you ought to talk about before you get married. Remus has got to be cool with it, or he wouldn't keep bringing it up.

Also, he said the children. Not 'any children we might someday have', as he said before. The children. The ones you're going to have together. As if it's a given.

Don't read too much into this for once, she countered her own argument. It's the mistake you always make, and you'd do well to avoid it for once. Especially as it concerns kids you yourself haven't planned, at least not at this point in your life.

Remember how you mucked things up by asking asked Remus if he ever thought about getting married?

Her face burned, and her stomach knotted. How could she forget?

Yeah, that's right. He nearly broke it off with you, and even though you convinced him not to leave, things were weird for--

"Scoot over a bit, will you?" she interrupted her own thoughts, nudging Remus lightly on the shoulder.

"What is it?"

His blue eyes studied her intently, crinkled at the corners. Once upon a time, Tonks would have thought he was using Legilimency on her. She smiled a little at her own naiveté; now, of course, she knew that while Remus was an accomplished Legilimens, he also had a knack for reading people that had nothing to do with magic. He simply was an excellent judge of character -- and he knew her inside and out.

Which is why you shouldn't be afraid to tell him the truth. If he knows you, he knows your motives. He trusts your judgment, as well.

You think.

Tonks drew a deep breath and told him how Des had sussed them, but his shoulder tensing against hers, his taut cheek muscle and firm jaw, did nothing to ease her fears that her choice would become a subject of contention between them.

When she finished, however, Remus only said, "Do you need to Obliviate her?"

God, no, was Tonks' instinctive reply, but she bit it back, forced herself to shake her head slowly -- a tactic she'd picked up from Remus. "Des is the most loyal person I know. Except for you," she added.

Considering how he was now employing that same tactic of deliberation, rubbing his fingers over his stubbled cheek and chin, Tonks wasn't be sure whether she'd really reassured him of Des' reliability -- or that he really believed she thought him loyal. However, when she felt him relax beside her, and he took her hand, lightly scuffing her knuckles with his thumb, she had her proof; his touch never lied.

"How did she take the news?" Remus asked quietly.

Tonks swallowed hard. "She thinks I'm mad." Squeezing his hand, she added, quickly. "Which shows how much she cares about me. She won't tell anyone."

Darting her eyes at him, she saw he didn't look like he'd heard the last. He wore a small, ironic smile.

"You see?" he said. "I'm not the only one who thinks--"

"Don't!" Tonks cried. "You said you wouldn't talk like that--!"

Remus reached across their bodies to touch his fingertips to her lips. "I know, I'm sorry. It was a joke. A poor one."

Tonks realised she'd clutched his hand so tightly that her fingernails were digging into the valleys between his knuckles.

"I'm sorry," she said, and released him.

But he kept a hold, closing his long fingers around her hand.

"It's all right," he said. "I've established quite a track record for myself of saying that sort of thing and meaning it."

Tonks couldn't disagree, but she laid her head on his shoulder, hoping it would convey her affection above all. "You used to joke like that, though, all the time. I forgot..."

His chin prickled against her forehead as he turned his head to kiss her hair. "So did I. Because I didn't have you to remind me."

Tonks lifted her head and saw his eyes, soft and shining with love as he looked at her. He raised his free hand to caress her cheek. She laid hers over it, pressing the warmth of his palm close against her skin. She leaned in to him.

"You have me now."

His lips were almost upon hers. She felt the brush of them as he whispered, "And so I've remembered."

He kissed her, but strangely, what Tonks was more aware of than the soft, supple glide of his lips was the way his fingers were sliding up from her hand to circle her wrist...skimming over the sensitive skin at her pulse...tickling as they toyed with the delicate silver links of her rune bracelet...charming the fine blonde hairs arm to stand as gooseflesh blossomed over the pale white rise of her arm...

Charming.

Tonks felt the transfer of magic from his fingers as a tingle in her blood and a pleasant warmth on her skin where before had been cool metal. Pulling her lips from his, her eyes snapped open and down to her bracelet.

Her breath hitched.

Amid the other runes he had given her ever since he first started the bracelet for her the day she completed her Auror training, Remus had magicked a new one, inset with a tiny ruby, onto it:

Othila.

Rune of home, hearth, and family.

"I haven't had my wits about me since...Dumbledore..." said Remus hoarsely, fingering the rune. "If I had, I would have actually planned my proposal, and given you that."

"I liked you being spontaneous."

He tugged at a strand of her hair. "Somehow I'm not surprised."

Tonks returned his smile, wishing she could put into words just how much it had meant to her that he'd popped the question the way he had. For a man who could be so taciturn, who had spent so much of his life in hiding and, consequently, had become extremely good at it, the impulsiveness of his proposal struck her as more honest than a carefully rehearsed and executed one. Spontaneity meant that marriage was as close to Remus' heart as it was to hers. He wanted it for himself as much as for her.

"Remember when I first asked you about getting married?" she asked, impulsively. "Christmas, year before last?

Remus' face went a little pale, and she blushed furiously for having brought embarrassment into this moment.

She forged ahead. "I...I'd imagined your proposal in my head. You gave me this rune instead of a ring."

With a very small smile, Remus turned slightly away from her.

Wonderful, she thought as her face burned hotter, red creeping down her neck. Now you've made him conscious about the money thing.

"I've got a ring for you, too," his voice rasped gently over her internal critic, and Tonks realised that the small smile was his slightly smug Marauder grin. "Two for you, actually...and one for me." Aiming his wand at the chest of drawers, he gave it a neat little flick. "Accio box."

A simple, carved oak box glided from the bureau into his lap. Tonks watched, feeling rather like it was Christmas, as his graceful hands flipped the hinged lid open and drew out a very simple diamond engagement ring.

"It was my mother's," he said, catching her hand in both of his, holding the ring delicately between his fingers. "She would have loved you -- in fact I am without a doubt that wherever she is, she does love you -- and it would have made her very happy to see you wear this. May I?"

Tonks, her throat constricted, could do nothing but nod. His smile was brilliant as he slid the ring (shimmering in the candlelight, as well as through her tears) onto the fourth finger of her trembling left hand. As he adjusted it magically to fit her (his mother's fingers, apparently, had been slimmer than Tonks'), she marvelled that his own hands could be so steady.

It's a sign. This is the path you're meant to take together.

"I just put an engagement ring on your finger," said Remus, gazing wonderingly at her hand. He looked up at her with the same expression. "You're going to be my...wife."

Merlin, it's real. He's said it. You're going to be Remus' wife!

"And you're going to be my husband!"

He brought her hand to his lips, and kissed her finger just below where the ring was nestled.

"I want to put a ring on your finger, as well," said Tonks, looking into the box balanced on his leg.

"You will."

Tonks took out two gold wedding bands. At first they appeared to be very plain, but as she turned them over and the gleaming gold caught the light, she saw that the inside edges were engraved. The thicker man's ring was etched with Sylvia, and the woman's, John.

Remus let go of her hand and reached back to tug at the back of his hair. "You don't mind that they're not..."

"New?" Tonks cut him off. "No, I think it's really special to wear your parents' rings. Lucky, even. I'm honoured."

She checked to see what effect her words had had, and found him relaxed again, hands in his lap, and smiling.

"We should do that," she said. "Have each other's names engraved inside."

"Hm." Remus rubbed his chin as he took what would be her wedding band from her and held it up to the light, scrutinising it. "Only I don't think Nymphadora would fit."

Tonks snorted. "Why would it need to?"

"Because it's your name."

"My name's Tonks!"

"It won't be when we're married!"

Of course Tonks wanted to argue the point, but found she could not, because the excitement shivering delightfully down her spine made her disinclined to argue, even playfully. There were so many more important things to talk about. Such as:

"When do I get to be Mrs. Lupin?"

His grin stretched, lopsided and boyish. "The sooner the better."

"When we go over to my parents' tomorrow night we can ask Dad if he knows anything about Muggle marriage licenses."

Face falling abruptly into a frown of determination, Remus said, "I don't want to have a Muggle wedding. I'm going to marry you, and I'm going to do it properly. We shall be bonded. Magically."

He was so emphatic, and it meant the world to Tonks, who felt a bit like they'd switched personalities.

"You know that's what I want," she said, hating to say it, and reaching for his hand, "but the Ministry--"

"Not the Ministry." Remus shook his head definitively as he stood. "Magic isn't might, no matter what that lot are saying."

For a moment, Tonks studied him as he faced her. His hands were clasped behind his back, and despite his grungy outfit and scruffy and untidy hair, he looked every inch the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor she'd met four years ago.

And don't overlook that gleam in his eye -- you're looking at the inventor of the Marauder's Map.

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Obviously you've found some loophole."

Remus grinned. "How do you feel about Centaurs?"

To be continued...