A/N: Most of the credit for this installment must go to MrsTater – she dared me to continue on with a notion from last chapter, of Tonks morphing prose onto her skin. I just couldn't pass an idea like that up! Enjoy. :)

Strangeways, Here We Come

Reading part II…

"What's your favourite book?" she asked him one evening, out of the blue. Mere months ago he might have quirked a brow, curious as to why she would wish to know such a seemingly insignificant (yet personal) detail about him – as if she were actually interested in Remus Lupin the man, his likes and dislikes, his quirks and habits. By now he knew better, having learned that she was very much interested in his particulars; also having gotten used to her non sequiturs, he calmly responded that he preferred anything by Oscar Wilde.

He thought nothing more of the question until a few nights later, when he entered his room to find Tonks stretched out in his bed, laying flat on her stomach. It was a sight he had become accustomed to (even though he still had trouble grasping it if he thought about it too hard), but there was a rather obvious difference this time: wherever the sheets didn't obscure her arms, legs, and back, her skin was covered with delicate black blots.

Stepping closer, his sharp eyes made out that they were actually words, scrawled all over as if somebody had taken a quill and ink and simply used her in lieu of parchment. It was a remarkable (and attractive) sight to behold; Remus sat on the bed beside her and couldn't stop his itching fingers from trailing over a sentence as if it were Braille. When no smears were left in his hand's wake, he realized it wasn't ink – she had actually morphed it all onto herself!

Amazed, he looked up and met her seductive grin. "Like it?" she queried coyly.

"Nymphadora, this is incredible! I had no idea you had such control over your abilities!" he exclaimed, leaning over her back to examine the words more closely.

"It was quite the challenge – needed much more precision than my usual morphs," she admitted, without losing her Cheshire Cat grin as she then continued, "But I wanted to surprise you."

A few seconds later, while reading the prose written across her spine, he remembered the question she had asked him and suddenly understood. "Why, it's Wilde!"

"I thought you'd enjoy this new medium," she cooed, opening the door for a suggestive response – but one never came.

Remus was preoccupied, completely engaged in the lines. When he finally spoke up, he reluctantly said, "I believe I've found a spelling error…"

Turning her head to peer over her shoulder, Tonks exclaimed, "What? But I copied these pages directly out of your book!"

"Well, I did purchase it at a second-hand store – it was an extremely cheap copy, by no means put out by a particularly reputable publisher," he explained absent-mindedly, still engrossed in the text. "Nor a particularly competent one, obviously. Ah see, there's another blunder… And another! Honestly, how could anybody have missed that?"

"I think you missed your calling as an editor," the witch grumbled impatiently, dropping her head back down onto the pillow. "Remus, you are aware that you've got a naked woman in your bed and instead you're busy reading, right?"

"Just a moment," he replied distractedly. "This is my favourite part!"

Huffing indignantly, Tonks scrunched up her face and concentrated, and the passages faded off her body in an instant. Then propping herself up on her elbows and fixing him with a playful glare, she mock-loftily declared, "I'm not sure I like how easily Mr. Wilde can divert your attention from more important and… pleasurable matters."

Smiling sheepishly, he shuffled forward and placed an apologetic kiss on her lips. "I'm sorry… If it's any consolation, I don't think he'll be able to from this point onward – I'm sure whenever I pick up one of his novels, perusing the pages simply won't compare to perusing you."

Her amused irritation faded to being flattered by his comment, but then she winced. "Oh bugger, does that mean I've ruined your favourite book? Perhaps I should've picked your least favourite instead…"

"Now that would be something! I'd be interested to see you attempt A Tale of Two Cities," he laughed. "Or A Tale of Run-on Sentences, as I tend to call it… If anything could make me like Dickens, I'm sure it would be you."

"Well, then I'd be glad to offer you another perspective on it," she murmured alluringly, reaching for the lapels of his jacket and pulling him closer. "But another time, hmm? Right now I'm much more anxious for you to… turn my pages, if you get my drift…"

I'd make some naughty pun about writing a page-turner, except that having fics online sort of precludes the actual flipping of pages. I suppose that's a good thing, as you're all saved from the lameness of my jokes. In return for that benevolent service, why not leave me a review? ;)

Toodles,
- ish -