It is a very distracting transformation, that part of his human brain preserved by Wolfsbane thinks, but is the senses of the wolf that tell him why.
That smell, vaguely familiar, so enjoyable.
The werewolf walks around the empty cellar. It doesn't come from the bare stone walls or the floor. Nor from the old rug Sirius has insisted to put there, for him to use whenever he gets sleepy. He approaches the door. There. Right outside.
It's a scent so intense, and rich, and… the wolf and the human fail to point out precisely what is it that makes it so appealing.
"You're not planning on sitting here all night, are you?" The voice comes from right outside the door, and the wolf knows that's not the source of the scent.
"What if I am?" She snaps. She.
"It's going to be the longest night of your life."
"It's going to be so, regardless."
"He won't appreciate it."
She groans.
"Come on," the deeper voice insists. "Let's wait in the kitchen and I promise to come back and check on him later, all right?"
His ears hear shuffling, and grunting. No. He doesn't want that scent to leave. Instinctively, the werewolf crouches next to the door, his nose touching the small gap and his nails scratching the wood. He whimpers, but the door has been unperturbed, by his human self, several hours ago. She won't hear it from the outside.
He, on the other hand, can hear the steps as they leave the stone corridor in direction to the kitchen. Taking that scent away from him.
Tired from the transformation, the werewolf finally curls and sleeps. And even in his dreams he is distracted by images he can't really define, but whenever he wakes up, a longing that has nothing to do with the feral hunger he's felt when transforming without Wolfsbane, fills his chest. He runs back to the door, once and again, to try to get closer to the feeling. To no avail.
The visits of the black dog make things both better and worse. He is company, of course, but the werewolf can smell that scent on the dog's fur, and he fills with rage at that. Can wolves feel jealousy, that small part of the brain that is still human manages to wonder.
When the pain of his bones going back to their original size wakes him up, he feels eager. Impatient.
He won't wait for Sirius to check on him and patch him up. Reaching to retrieve his wand from the ledge where he'd place it before his transformation, is a painful task, but he has other things in mind. His own spellwork manages to rend him decent and even alleviate the pain a little. For the time being, is good enough.
Remus should lay down and rest, he knows only too well he'll regret it later if he doesn't, but he has a new urge. He has to be sure. He needs to feel it again, with his human mind this time.
The kitchen is empty. There are some ambers on the fireplace and two glasses on the table. Jealousy comes over him again, and this time he recognises it for what it is, but he manages to control it.
Maybe she is still at headquarters, sleeping in the guest room she is been using lately.
Would he dare to go upstairs and check?
Distracting images fill his mind as he brews some tea. Imprecise. Instinctual. Are they completely his, Remus', or is the wolf still around?
The door opens at his back and he spins around.
She looks dishevelled, blue hair tousled in every direction, eyes full of sleep, but she grins at him.
"Wotcher."
"Hello, Tonks." He doesn't know what to say, or even if he should say something about his knowing she was there last night.
"Could I have a cuppa, too?" She points at the kettle he's stupidly levitating mid-air, and her voice sounds casual. Maybe too casual.
"Sure."
He pours her a cup and places it on the table. She is tugging at her sleeves, and Remus wishes he knew if that's just nerves or plain fear.
"So how…?" she starts, and he manages to see her blush before she morphs it away. "Are you all right? I mean… last night…" She trails off and he finds it all so very endearing.
"The transformation," he forces the word into the conversation.
"Well… yeah," she nods, and those warm brown eyes seem to look right inside him.
"I'm fine. A little sore," which is more than an understatement. "I might need to lay down shortly."
"Oh, of course. Don't let me keep you up."
"I'm good. No need to hurry."
She smiles, and they drink their tea, sitting across from each other, but no other word is said. He wants to look at her, but he doesn't dare, and he settles in getting distracted by the small sounds she makes. He wishes to break the silence, just to hear her voice, but, on the other hand, there is also something deeply comforting in just being there.
"Well," she finally sighs. "I better be off if I want to get some fresh clothes before going to work."
She takes her cup to the sink and, as she walks past him, he gets a whiff of that scent. On an impulse, he grabs her wrist.
"Tonks."
"Yeah?"
The white skin is soft under his fingertips and it takes him all his willpower not to give in and caress it.
"Thanks for staying tonight."
From her standing position, she has to look down at him. With a little hesitation, she raises her free hand and lightly touches the hair on his temple.
"I'm glad you're all right."
And then she's gone.
Sirius finds Remus a while later, in the exact same position, looking at the void in front of the fireplace.