Part 1.

Remus Lupin is the only man who has ever rejected me.

It isn't difficult to understand why I'd never been turned down before. I can literally Metamorph myself into the woman of any man's dreams. I'm petite and curvy, but if the gentleman prefers tall and willowy, I'm suddenly 5 foot 9. I've got brownish hair, but if he prefers blondes or redheads, I can be one in an instant. And how big of breasts would you like, sir?

My first boyfriend was Charlie Weasley. We met at Hogwarts and dated for two years. Charlie was a Quidditch player, Captain of the Gryffindor team, and I loved flying. I didn't have the coordination for Quidditch, but Charlie and I would race around the Quidditch pitch on broomsticks after his practices. Then, we'd land underneath the stands and snog each other senseless. I never Metamorphed for Charlie; he always wanted me as I was. Charlie was sometimes calm and breezy, sometimes loud and blustery. Lovemaking with him was fun. He would try anything, upside down and backward, and we probably would have been an excellent match if it weren't for his deathly allergy to commitment. It wasn't too uncommon for couples to move in together right after Hogwarts, but at first suggestion of this, Charlie turned a pale shade of gray and began planning his move to Romania. The man was so terrified of having me as a wife, he was willing to leave the country and care for dragons. A lifelong bachelor to this day.

My second boyfriend was a man I met during Auror training. It took all of three days to convince Noah to come to my flat for the evening. He was fiery and exciting, and he kept me on my toes. He had me Metamorph into everyone from Muggle celebrities to the witch who worked the counter at the coffee shop down the street. In turn, he taught me all the amazing things a man can do with his tongue. We broke up because I was too busy with work to even see him, and now, he's married to a stay-at-home mom.

The third, fourth, sixth, and eighth were all meant to be one-night stands, but the damned blokes kept falling in love with me. It was like trying to shake off a toddler whose wrapped her arms around your leg while you walk. I didn't even particularly care for them much, but they kept me company and passed the time. Numbers five and seven were both set-ups by Charlie. "Oi, Tonks! I'm not interested in you at all, but my mate's pretty lonely, give him a try!" Neither lasted.

Between graduating from Hogwarts and the time I was 22, I'd had about eleven relationships, and they were all the same. I would find a good-looking man, he would immediately fall for me, we'd have a few fun months, and then I'd move on to the next one.

Then came Remus Lupin. I met him at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He was my cousin's best friend, and from the moment I met him, he hardly glanced my way. I was simply astounded at how little he looked at me. Most of the time, a single man between the ages of 17 and 50 would be immediately trying to make my acquaintance (and a fair few married ones at that), but not Remus Lupin. And for some reason, that was the most appealing thing of all.

Sirius, Remus, and I were all gathered around the table at Headquarters. We'd just held a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, and after everyone had filed out, I'd stayed behind. Sirius barked orders at Kreacher, having the elf bring chilled glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Sirius preferred his as an Old Fashioned. I watched him carefully muddle sugar and bitters. He poured in the whiskey and swirled the cocktail around a large cube of ice while he chatted casually with Remus, ending with a twist of orange peel. Remus, on the other hand, drank his whiskey neat. After Sirius's showy cocktail mixing, I loved seeing Remus pour the whiskey straight into a chilled glass and sip it without wincing. Sexy. Sirius raised the bottle toward me, one eyebrow cocked as he paused his conversation with Remus. I nodded. He knew I preferred mine with ice and a splash of orange liqueur. He slid my glass across the table to me. Remus and Sirius were picking apart the snotty things Snape said at the meeting, but when they ran out of steam, I decided to go for it.

"What kind of women do you like, Remus?" I asked.

He nearly choked on his whiskey, and Sirius laughed.

"What do you mean?" asked Remus, wiping his front.

I leaned forward, letting my breasts fall together, ignoring the bemused look Sirius was giving me.

"What kind of women do you date?" I asked.

"Oh, er," he said nervously, but trailed off.

"Yes, Moony, tell us," asked Sirius, leaning back in his chair with a very devious grin. "What kind of women do you date?"

Remus gave him a smile.

"Er, the last woman I dated was very kind," he said.

"Kind?" said Sirius with an eyebrow cocked.

"Yes, and funny," added Remus.

"I'm funny," I said, chewing a mouthful of ice.

"She's funny, Moony," said Sirius, and Remus gave him a reproachful look.

"What did she look like?" I pressed.

It was fun, sitting with Sirius and Remus after Order meetings. They were both older than I was, mid-30s to my twenty-two, but unlike some of the Order, they treated me like an equal, not like a kid. I supposed there weren't many women their age around to drink whiskey with. Emmeline was probably the closest. She was around 40, I guessed, and she was so stunningly beautiful that I was surprised my cousin hadn't made any moves on her. Sirius was currently lazing in his chair, sipping his drink and looking at Remus expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"Yea, what did she look like?" asked Sirius with a very confident smile I couldn't figure out.

Remus took a deep breath, gathering himself before he answered.

"She was a blonde," he began. "Blonde hair and brown eyes."

I immediately shifted my appearance to match his description. He was narrowing his eyes in judgment.

"More golden blond, and much longer," said Remus, and I adjusted my hair accordingly.

"And what about the rest? Height, weight, breasts?" I asked.

Sirius let out his barking laugh, and Remus flushed. He was adorable when he was embarrassed.

"What about the breasts, Remus?" asked Sirius, a naughty gleam in his eye.

Remus took a gulp of whiskey and slammed the glass down, and finally decided to give us what we wanted. He put his hands out in front of his chest as though he were cupping an ample bosom.

"About so," he described. "Nice arse, too. Came out to about here."

As he said this, he stood from his chair, showing his backside and motioning with his hands as though he were grasping a very cute behind. I Metamorphed myself.

"Too skinny," said Remus. "She had a little more to her than you."

I added a few pounds to my hips and belly. He closed one eye and stuck out his tongue a bit, as though he were admiring a sculpture at a museum. Sirius was laughing out loud.

"Perfect," said Remus.

We were all laughing then, and my concentration lapsed so that I became myself again. Sirius clapped Remus on the shoulder.

"Our boy Remus is very picky when it comes to his partners," said Sirius. "Only the best for him."

"Unlike you?" said Remus with a sly grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Unlike me, who'll shag anything that moves," Sirius answered, and he tipped his glass back to finish his drink.

It would usually be easy, after a couple of whiskeys and a demonstration of my breast-morphing powers, to get a man to ask me to stay just a little longer, have just one more, but Remus said good night and headed upstairs to the bedroom Sirius was letting him stay in. Sirius sat his crystal glass on the counter for Kreacher to deal with, ruffled my hair as he walked past, and headed to bed himself.

"Night, Tonks!" Sirius called.

I glanced up the staircase, half considering walking upstairs to Remus's room, but I could play the long game, too. I sat my empty glass next to Sirius's and headed home.

Part 2.

If I had been able to take on Aunt Bella myself, he would still be alive. It was because of my lapse in concentration, my ineptitude that he died. Aunt Bella knocked me out and moved on to Sirius, and she proved too much for him, too. Now, he was dead. I could still count the hours since he died. How long would it be until I had to count it in days?

I had just been released from St. Mungo's, and like most of us, I was drawn to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Most of the Order had spent a few hours at this table, gazing forlornly at Sirius's empty chair. Tonight, Moody and Arthur Weasley had come by, mixed themselves an Old Fashioned in his honor, and left quietly.

It wasn't so for Remus. He stayed at Grimmauld Place all day and night. He sat in the corner, drinking whiskey neat and staring at the fire. He had lost his best friend, and it was my fault. I was sitting at the table, head in my hands, when my composure finally broke. The emotions spilled over like water over a dam, and I heard Remus walk across the room and place a hand on my shoulder. I turned and leaned into him, my head resting against his belly.

"It's my fault he's dead," I sobbed.

"It isn't," he said reassuringly.

"It is, though," I said, wiping tears and snot off my face with my hand and looking up at him. "I just… I just… I wish I could erase it. I wish this was a bad dream and that I could try it again. I just want him back."

My eyes were blurred with tears, but I could still see the pained expression on Remus's face. His eyes were closed like he was willing the tears not to fall.

"Me too," he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around his middle and leaned my head against him again, hiccupping into his torso. His arms were wrapped gently around me, stroking my back. As my crying subsided, I realized how close we were. I realized where my hands were. I cautiously reached my fingers under the tail of his shirt and touched his skin. His hands paused their movement on my back, gripping me more firmly.

"Nymphadora," he said warningly.

"Don't call me that," I whispered against him, and my hands slipped fully under his shirt.

Suddenly, I was standing from my chair and yanking his shirt up over his head. He didn't bother stopping me, and I crashed my mouth to his. Our tears mingled on our cheeks, but we kissed fiercely. I was tugging his belt out of the loops on his trousers and unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it open and placing his hands inside it against my skin.

It's not that he was an unwilling participant. It's just that he was vulnerable, and I used that to my advantage. Despite his hesitation, his body began reacting to mine. I could feel his erection through his boxers, and his hands began venturing around my body. His lips were soft and warm against mine, and he let me coax his tongue from his mouth. Soon, we were tugging at the rest of our clothes and stumbling toward the only bedroom on the ground floor. Sirius's bedroom.

I pushed him down on the black sheets of the bed and straddled him, kissing his lips before I crawled down his body and took him into my mouth. He groaned in pleasure and grabbed a fistful of my hair in his hand. I could feel his hand pulling my head up and down, pulling me down farther than I would have gone, making me gag. I lifted my head and straddled him again. He gripped my hips firmly, almost hard enough to leave bruises, and stared at me with dark eyes as I lowered myself onto him. As I did, he closed his eyes. Was I imagining it, or were tears falling out of them? Never mind that, for at that moment I was trying to figure out if I was going to need to Metamorph my insides to fit all of him inside me. Was this a werewolf trait, or was Remus Lupin just incredibly well hung?

The first time was feverish and quick. It was like we were both trying to forget, to distract ourselves from everything. But it broke the dam. It's too easy to go to bed with someone again after you've already done it once. So, for a few weeks after that night, we found ourselves in bed together more nights than not. Remus seemed to like me fine, but he wasn't falling head over heels. And I liked that about him… didn't I? I had never liked when men fell in love too quickly, and yet, I kept wondering why he wasn't. Was something wrong with him? With me? I tried not to wonder too much. We sat next to each other during Order meetings, where I'd try to keep him distracted with stunts like increasing my breasts a half a cup size at a time until he noticed. Afterward, we'd pour whiskey, his neat and mine with ice and orange liqueur. If I was in a mood, he'd comfort me and remind me for the twentieth time that Sirius's death wasn't my fault. Then, we'd end up snogging on the sofa or in Remus's upstairs bedroom.

But it didn't last.

We were half naked in his bed one night, my hands pulling his hips toward me as we kissed. His lips left mine and trailed down the side of my neck, pausing near my collarbone. I sighed and groaned.

"Mmm, use your teeth," I murmured.

His attention stopped. I wriggled impatiently.

"Bite. Please," I urged.

He lifted his head and stared at me, a look of pain on his face. I was still breathless, wondering why he'd stopped.

"What's wrong?" I asked, confused.

"I can't," said Remus. He had taken his hands away and rolled off of me.

"What do you mean, you can't?" I said, arching my neck up to expose it to him again and giving him my best devious grin. "Just one little nibble?"

"No," he said firmly. "I can't do that, Dora. I won't."

I furrowed my brows.

"Why not?"

"Dora, I'm a werewolf," he said.

"Yes, I am rather aware of that," I said impatiently.

"Dora," he scolded.

I took a breath and looked at him, and I knew we were in for a talk. Why must it always be a talk? Couldn't we just do, with no talking? But Remus, ever the scholar, needed to talk, to discuss.

"I won't bite," said Remus firmly.

"I want you to," I said, reaching for him. "It's sexy."

Remus climbed out of bed and spun away from me, his hands pulling at his hair.

"Don't you see why I can't do that?" he said in a strangled voice. "That's exactly what my kind do. We bite."

"You're not even transformed, though," I said.

"If I were to break the skin, it could still-" he began, but he trailed off, now pacing the room. "I don't actually even know what it would do. But it could be very dangerous."

"Mmm," I said, in a seductive murmur, moving toward him again.

"Nymphadora!" he snapped, and my eyes blazed at him. "What, is this some kind of fetish for you?"

"First of all, never call me that name," I said, sitting up and crossing my arms in front of me defiantly.

"I'm a werewolf. I'm not even considered human in some countries. Bloody hell, it's perfectly legal to kill me in most of Europe. I am dangerous," he said, and I opened my mouth to disagree, but he continued without stopping. "It's no use pretending I'm not. And I can't bite you, even for fun, even for sex. I can't let myself get distracted or tempted, not even for a moment. And you would do well to remember that and respect it!"

"You wouldn't actually do anything-"

"Do you know that? Do I?" he replied.

My arms were still crossed in front of me, and we stared at each other a long moment. His expression changed, like he realized who I was and where we were.

"This isn't going to work," he said suddenly.

"What?" I replied.

"We are not a good match. I'm practically twice your age, and I've got no job and no money to speak of," he said. "But worst of all, I'm a werewolf and you treat it like it's some sort of novelty!"

"I don't!" I said, but I wasn't exactly certain that was true. There was lots of novelty to Remus Lupin, and werewolf was just part of it. There was still the matter of him being the first man not to fall at my feet from the first moment we met. I loved the idea of having him for myself, of winning him. Of trying something new and different. But here he was, rejecting me! It stung, and it felt like losing.

"I don't want to be with you, Nymphadora," said Remus firmly.

"I said don't call me that!" I spat.

"Enough!" said Remus, and he opened the door to his bedroom.

I stared at him in disbelief. Then, I slowly stood and got dressed, his stern amber eyes watchful. Before I left his room, I turned to him.

"I don't care if you're poor or old or a werewolf," I offered.

He just scoffed a laugh.

"I'm just a novelty to you, Nymphadora, and you know it," said Remus, and he glanced at the open door as though he was half tempted to shove me right outside of it. I walked out and he slammed it shut behind me. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

Rejection hurt.

Part 3.

I spent months mourning. I wasn't even sure why I was so torn up over him. I could have had a dozen other men, and after our breakup, I did. I went home with every handsome man I found at a bar, but none of them took my mind off him. How dare he! Didn't he know what he had? I was smart, funny, and wildly successful for my age! I was the total package! Somehow, his rejection had stung me deeply and was affecting me both personally and professionally. I couldn't focus on work, I was drinking more, and I even lost my ability to Metamorph. Finally, after a devastatingly embarrassing meltdown in front of half the Order and a handful of teenagers, Remus relented. How could he not, with all the lectures and glares Molly Weasley gave him afterward? "She loves you, Remus!" Molly insisted. He was still reticent. He never really wanted me, and I knew it. But I won. I waggled my ring finger at anyone who would look. Remus had a perpetual look of bewilderment on his face as he was congratulated. He kept turning an eye to me, looking to me for comfort and reassurance, but I was focused only on my victory.

I insisted on a quick, quiet wedding ceremony, sealing the deal before he could change his mind. I loved being in the middle of the whirlwind. I got to tell off my parents for their initial reactions to my choice in partners, and then bask in their apologies once they came around. I got to feel like a rebel, furtively marrying a werewolf at the height of the Ministry's anti-werewolf legislation. The wedding planning was another opportunity to be at the center of attention. My mother beamed at me while we transfigured her old wedding dress into a more modern one that would fit me. My father patted my hand as he walked me down the aisle, quietly telling me all the wonderful things about me, his only daughter. My serene groom holding my hands and mechanically reciting the vows we'd written. Then, the whirlwind was over, and we were newlyweds in a studio flat in Muswell Hill. The war kept us all busy, with Remus out spying for the Order most nights, so it wasn't until a year later, when everything was over and life was calm at last, that we finally took a deep breath and settled in as husband and wife.

And I'll be damned, it turned out he was a novelty after all.

Remus and I were wrong from the start. Remus knew it. He married me knowing it. I was neither intuitive nor insightful, but Remus was both. He knew I would hate being with him, but he married me anyway because I insisted. I kept my job as an Auror, so I went to work in the mornings and lived a day full of excitement and movement and passion. Then, I came home in the evenings to a life of responsibility and steadfastness and long-term planning. I was bored and stifled, and I lashed out at him.

"Yes, yes, the dishes, I KNOW," I spat at him, after his gentlest suggestion that I not add a twenty-fifth plate to the top of the teetering stack I had been neglecting. "But you could do it for me, you know. It's not like you WORK."

He recoiled. I was fire and he was earth, and I thought he would be my kindling, but instead I left him scorched.

It wasn't long before I started getting antsy. Everything I had found charming about him suddenly drove me mad. His gentleness was adorable at first; now, it was annoying. His lined face at first showed his maturity and character; now, it just looked old. At first, the fact that he was a werewolf was sexy and dangerous and rebellious; now, it just meant that for a few days out of the month, he wouldn't touch me, and on the night of the full moon, he left me alone. And eventually, on those nights I was alone, I started going out after work. Just a couple of drinks with fellow Aurors, just a beer with Noah, who told his wife he had to work late.

Then, Charlie came back from Romania. It was a six-month internship for a big promotion: catching Welsh Greens in the wild and studying their life cycle. On full moon nights, I invited him to my place. What was the harm in spending some time with an old friend? The first couple of months, it really was just a cocktail and a lot of laughs about our time at Hogwarts. If I was fire, Charlie was air. He was as sweet and refreshing as a summer breeze, intellectual and witty, but mercurial and flighty. And instead of being fertile ground for me to char, he was lifegiving air that stoked my flames.

By the third month, he was sitting too close on the sofa, running a hand through my hair. On the fourth full moon, I leaned in to kiss him, and it was suddenly "yes, like that" and "oh fuck, right there" and I was gripping the headboard while he slammed into me.

Remus knew. Damned werewolf senses. His nostrils flared when he walked into our bedroom, and he turned to look at me in question. I didn't say anything, and he didn't ask. It killed me. He should be shouting at me, screaming that he could smell Charlie Weasley in the rumpled sheets. Instead, he calmly pulled them off the bed and replaced them with new, freshly laundered ones. The fifth full moon was the same. He left, I fucked Charlie, and Remus came home and changed the sheets himself. It was like I was daring him to finally yell at me, but he never did. He wasn't going to leave. He wasn't going to let me get away with it that easily. He had known all along that we were wrong for each other, and he was going to make me admit it.

On the sixth full moon, Charlie finally asked what the hell we were doing.

"You're cheating on your husband," he said, as he ran a finger across my naked breasts. "I thought you loved him."

"I thought so too," I said quietly.

"Nymph, you love the chase," he observed, and I noted that he was the only person I'd let call me that nickname. "And Remus gave you a good one."

I just nodded. He was propped up on an elbow next to me in bed.

"But now the chase is over and you're bored as hell," said Charlie. "It's not fair to him, you know. For you to do this to him."

"I think you're a guilty party here, too, you know," I said in a grumpy voice, and he laughed.

"You know," he ventured cautiously as his hand continued to graze my bare skin, "there's a lot of chasing involved in Romanian dragon keeping…"

I grabbed his hand to still it. I stared at his face, his handsome blue eyes standing out brightly underneath dark red fringe. He had a quirked smile on his face, an open-ended question in his expression. Emotions and realizations flooded my mind. Why had I been chasing so many men for so many years? Why did I jump from one to the next? Why was I constantly craving something new and different?

Perhaps because I was seeking Charlie Weasley in all of them.

I lifted my head to kiss him, and he kissed me back. I gave him my answer in that kiss: that if he would be willing to finally slow down, to stop flitting from one woman to another, to let me tag along, I was his.

Remus knew that, too. I hardly even had to open my mouth when he returned before he was patiently agreeing that we weren't working out and that I should most certainly go to Romania for a while. He leaned in and kissed my cheek, and he helped me pack my bag. He helped me pack my bag. I thought of all the dozens of times he insisted that I didn't deserve someone like him. I wasn't in love with Remus Lupin, but truth be told, he was an amazing, wonderful, patient, kind man. At the end of it all, it turned out that he didn't deserve someone like me.

A/N: I'm working on a final chapter that picks up where this left off. It'll be from Remus's point of view!