Tonks was rummaging through Remus's wardrobe. The few clothes he had were carelessly strewn about the room as she attempted to find something 'suitable' for him to wear for her best friend's wedding.

Remus knew she wouldn't find anything.

"This is all you've got?" Tonks turned on her heel. The wardrobe was empty, save for a drawer full of similarly patched undergarments.

"Unless you see a portal to another world," Remus said delicately, "that's all I own."

Tonks frowned at him. "I don't want to sound like my mum, but you can't go out with any of these clothes. This is going to be a really fancy wedding."

Remus's ears burned with embarrassment. He couldn't afford anything else.

"This is what we'll do," she said, wagging her finger at him, "we're going to my parents' sooner than we planned."

"Your…parents?"

They'd agreed weeks before: they would meet her parents later in August, after they'd lived together long enough to know they could do this long-term. They were barely into August and had just thrown together a plan to get Harry away from Privet Drive. In a week they'd go to the high-class wedding, and then Remus would meet the Tonkses. Remus would rather fight off a dozen Dementors than meet the Tonkses sooner than strictly necessary.

"Well, you know mum's a seamstress. She can get us a good discount on dress robes and might even make them herself. If we need good dress robes in a week, mum's the only one who can help."

Remus regarded the many patched, darned robes on the floor. He had been able to teach in those robes; why couldn't he go to a wedding in them?

"It's a Sunday, so mum and dad are expecting me for dinner," Tonks continued, tapping her finger against her cheek. "I'll write them and let them know I'm bringing a new friend."

"Friend?"

"You're right, boyfriend. Mum might raise an eyebrow, so soon after Steph, but it should be fine."

"I think we ought to—"

She cast a charm on his clothes to put them back in his wardrobe, but it resulted in a haphazard pile on the floor at her feet. She sighed heavily and gave him a guilty smile. She bent over to pick them up, giving Remus a clear view of the tiny undergarment riding up her backside.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Tonks, maybe we—"

"—I'm hopeless at these household spells—mum can even get the socks to fold themselves! You'll see when you meet her—"

"—Let me take care of those clothes," Remus said, seeing the mess in the wardrobe. "I'll figure something out. We don't need to go to your parents just yet."

Tonks put her hands on her hips. "It's going to be fine, Remus. Get over yourself."

She stepped out of his room, turned the corner, and slammed the door on her way into her room.

With a measured, tired sigh, he got to his feet to clean up the mess she made.


The Tonkses lived north of London, in a thoroughly middle-to-upper-middle-class area. It was the type of neighborhood Remus felt almost comfortable in; it wasn't as posh as Islington, where Grimmauld Place was, but it was nicer than what he'd grown up with.

Despite his objections to meeting Tonks's parents earlier than planned, he gave into her demands when she reminded him that she was doing him a favor, not the other way around.

It was how he found himself sitting at the Tonkses' dining table on a humid Sunday evening and making pointless small talk about the weather.

"It has been quite hot, hotter than usual," he told Ted, a jovial man with golden-and-grey hair, bright blue eyes, and the smile his daughter inherited. "Too hot for my liking."

Stop saying hot, you dimwit.

Andromeda, a stern-looking woman, had barely taken her eyes off Remus since the moment he stepped foot in her home. He suspected she already knew what he was. By the way she looked at him, with downturned lips, narrower eyes, and quickly flaring nostrils, he expected that as soon as he revealed his true nature he'd be thrown out of the house. The harebrained marriage scheme would come to a premature, but not unexpected, end.

Remus laced his fingers together in his lap and tried not to meet her gaze, but when she addressed him directly, he had no polite way to avoid her.

"Remus, what is it that you do for a living?"

Tonks flashed him an encouraging smile.

"I work at a Muggle bookshop, in Newcastle."

"Is that where you two met?" Ted asked, facing his daughter. "That's where your new flat is…unless you have a roommate we don't know about?" Ted observed Remus cautiously; even under his kind eyes, Remus felt uncomfortable.

"No, we met earlier, in June," Tonks lied. "Right after Steph and I split up. We met through work."

"Work?" Andromeda turned to Remus. "Why were Aurors needed at a Muggle bookshop? And why was a wizard working there?"

Remus clenched his fists together. They were going to reveal his lycanthropy at the end, when Andromeda and Ted got to know him a little better.

"Er…" Tonks wheezed faintly, her cheeks blooming with color. "Erm…"

"Nymphadora, is there something you'd like to tell us?"

Ted's brow furrowed. The pupils in his blue eyes grew wide as he looked between Tonks and Remus.

"Dora," Ted said, turning away from Remus. "Have you got yourself in trouble? Are you planning on doing this…with him?"

"No?" Tonks's face twisted in her puzzlement. "No more than usual?"

"We can take care of this," Andromeda said quietly to Tonks, glaring daggers at Remus. "There's no need to put yourself through a pre—"

"—I'm a werewolf," Remus blurted, realizing what the Tonkses thought he'd done.

All three pairs of Tonks eyes turned on him. Tonks gawked with wide eyes, Ted's lips were parted, and Andromeda's mouth curled.

"I've never touched her—" He gestured weakly at Tonks. "—Not…not like that. She's not…not…and even if she was, it couldn't be…mine," he finished lamely. He wished, not for the first time, that he'd never been born.

Tonks's hair became a silvery grey. "What the fuck are you talking about, Remus?"

"He's telling us that you're not pregnant," Andromeda said evenly, as Tonks's jaw dropped. "Is that true?"

"Fuck no," Tonks said hotly. "That's what you think? We're together because I'm up the duff?"

"Well, Dora, you move into a flat where this bloke lives, you're clearly lying about how and when you met, and let's not forget he's the first fellow you've brought home since you were at school," Ted rambled, the joviality in his voice now gone. "Forgive us for assuming you'd made a mistake."

Tonks crossed her arms over her chest. Remus winced, as she looked the part of a petulant child.

"We met through work because Mad-Eye wanted me to do a mission on werewolves. Remus and I hit it off, we went on dates, and I know it seems fast, but we live together now. I'm not pregnant. We're happy and I could see myself with him for a long time. He's kind and smart and he always notices the little things. He's a good man when he's not being a stubborn arse. Just be happy for me, okay?"

Remus briefly considered if Umbridge's 'torture camps' would be more pleasant than his current situation.

"Yet he's a werewolf," Andromeda said, in a clipped tone, as if Remus wasn't sitting three feet from her. "Nymphadora, you have done some reckless things, but this is egregious. You could be infected! You could be killed!"

"I'm an Auror!" Tonks shouted, her hair morphing into the fieriest red. "I know what I'm doing!" She stood abruptly and glowered at her mother. Andromeda stood too, with the air between them filled with furious friction.

Remus noticed that Ted had gone quiet. He held his chin in his hand, with his brows knit together and his shoulders set back.

"'Dromeda," he said, taking his wife's hand. "Come with me—we'll take a few minutes in the kitchen." Andromeda scowled at him, but Ted squeezed her hand lightly. He then addressed his daughter. "Dora, sit. Stay with Remus. Your mother and I need a few moments to ourselves, and when we return, we'll all be calm."

Tonks scoffed loudly but plopped herself into her chair. Ted and Andromeda went into the kitchen, and Remus sensed the Silencing Charm they cast between the rooms.

"We don't have to do this—" Remus began, trying to find a way out.

"Shut up, Remus. I don't need your self-pity right now."

He looked down at his lap, noticing a new hole in his trousers, and sighed. They were the best ones he owned. He'd worn his nicest clothes to meet the Tonkses, and it hadn't mattered. Andromeda and Ted were disgusted with him and Tonks would lose her parents, all over a stupid policy and her own stubbornness.

Silence dominated the dining room. Tonks's hair softened from its angry, tomato red to an annoyed, burnt orange—Remus was coming to appreciate the ease with which she wore her emotions—and while she had her arms crossed, she no longer looked as furious as before.

"We're going through with this. I don't care what it takes."

Remus could only nod at her, failing to understand why she was obsessively attached to this mission.

The shimmer of magic between the rooms was lifted. Tonks was back in her defensive position, glowering at her mother, but Andromeda's face was unreadable. Ted had something in his hand, and when he sat down, he put it on the table.

The Daily Prophet stared up at Remus and Tonks. It was the same Prophet that announced the new legislation regarding magical creatures, including the policy that led Tonks and Remus to their predicament.

"I'm not going to ask any other questions yet," Ted said, glancing between Remus and Tonks. "But I need you to be honest with me, both of you. Would this…relationship…have anything to do with this?" He pointed at the headline announcing the new policy.

Tonks mumbled a 'no.' Remus stayed silent. If they couldn't convince her parents, they couldn't convince anyone.

"Dora." Ted spoke directly to his daughter. "Your mother and I are willing to entertain whatever this is," he said, nodding at Remus, "if you're honest with us. We'll be more upset with you if you lie. We only want what's best for you. If you believe helping this man is for the best, we will support you, but please don't lie to our faces."

Tonks looked down at the floor, avoiding her parents' gazes. "Can you give us a minute, please, dad?"

"'Dromeda, you heard our girl," Ted said, taking Andromeda's hand again. "We'll give them some time to decide if they want to be honest."

Ted and Andromeda returned to the kitchen; this time, Tonks cast the Silencing Charm between the rooms.

"They know," said Tonks. "They know, Remus."

"If we tell them about this—"

"—we have to tell them about the Order, I know." Tonks ran her fingers through her short spikes. She chewed on her lower lip, glancing anxiously back at the kitchen. "D'you think Dumbledore would mind? They're my parents."

"This isn't something we can easily reveal," Remus replied, struggling to find a solution. "We took binding oaths."

"What if we only tell them part of it? That yes, it's because of the policy, but Mad-Eye asked if I could help?"

"Would they believe that?"

"It's worth trying," Tonks said quietly. "They trust Mad-Eye with my life, even if they think he's off his rocker." She sighed heavily and took the Prophet into her hands. "They said they're willing to help us, or support us, whatever that means. This'll be easier with them on our side."

"They're on your side," Remus corrected, recalling the way Ted and Andromeda looked at him.

"Your side is my side now, Lupin. Get that through your thick skull."

Remus bit his tongue. He was growing tired of Tonks's curt replies, though he silently respected her ability to commit.

"Let's tell them that Mad-Eye knows you, which is the truth, and he asked me to help you, which is also the truth."

Tonks lifted her arms above her head, stretching her spine and revealing the smooth expanse of her abdomen. Remus hadn't seen it before, but she had her navel pierced, and a tiny, glittery star hung from it.

"We tell them we need it to look real," Tonks continued, pressing her shirt down, "and then see what they say."

"Fine," Remus conceded. "I don't want you to lose your parents over this."

Tonks rolled her eyes, lifted the Silencing Charm, and called her parents back into the dining room.

"This is the truth," Tonks said, with a quick peek at Remus. "Mad-Eye and Remus are friends. When the policy came out, Mad-Eye asked me to help and I said yes. Everything I said before is true. He's a good man when he's not getting in his way, he's funny, and he's good to me. We're friends now, but we've got to pull this off by the end of the year."

"Is that the truth, Remus?" Ted asked, looking at him unblinkingly.

"Yes. I tried to talk her out of it," he admitted, hoping divulging more of the truth would help their cause. "Your daughter is very determined."

Ted snorted loudly. "That is an understatement."

"I promise I will never touch her." Remus hung his head, feeling his cheeks burning with shame. "I know I'm not what anyone would want for their daughter. We sleep in separate rooms and we always will, until this policy is reversed and she can be free of me. We don't do anything a normal couple would do."

"You do realize we're going to have to kiss at our wedding," Tonks said irritably. "No one's going to believe it if we don't kiss. Normal couples kiss."

A low, plunging feeling coursed through him. They would have to kiss at least once—and in front of whoever witnessed their sham marriage.

"You do plan on marrying," Andromeda said tightly, after a few seconds of awkward silence following Tonks's reminder. "Have you set a date?"

Remus finally looked up. Tonks was shaking her head.

"It has to be by the end of the year. We haven't planned anything at all."

Ted flicked his wand toward the kitchen. A roll of parchment, a quill, and a pot of ink arrived before him.

"Before we get started," he said, uncapping the pot of ink, "Remus, do you have a ring for her?"

Remus coughed into his elbow, trying to cover his surprised squawk. He had barely a Knut to his name. If he'd had a ring, he'd have sold it by now to pay for food.

"I assume you can't afford one," Ted continued, businesslike. "No trouble with that. When 'Dromeda and I married, I proposed with my Nan's ring. Got her a new one for our tenth anniversary. Dora can use my Nan's ring. It's modest, but it'll do."

"Thanks, dad," Tonks said, sliding back into her seat with relief. "That's a good idea."

Andromeda swished her wand at the kitchen as well. A spiral-bound notebook and a calendar showing the months of November and December appeared between her and Tonks. A moment later, another quill appeared, and Andromeda began writing a to-do list for a wedding. Ted, meanwhile, started on a guest list.

"Why are you helping me?"

Ted and Andromeda looked up from their activities. Tonks put her hand on her forehead, shaking her head slowly.

"If my daughter is going to be caught in a fictitious marriage, she'll go to prison," Andromeda replied briskly. "I'd prefer not to have her housed in the same facility as my sister."

"Agreed," Ted added. "We like our Dora where she is."

Remus understood; it wasn't for him, it was all for their daughter. Yet seeing the growing to-do list on Andromeda's list—flowers, invitations, a venue—he blanched, knowing he couldn't possibly afford any of it.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but he couldn't find his voice.

"What is it, Remus?"

He wasn't sure how she did it, but Andromeda seemed to sense his hesitation without looking at him.

"I haven't any money…I can't pay for any of this."

"We know," Ted replied. "We'll be paying for all of it—"

"—dad, you don't have to!" Tonks protested. "We don't need anything fancy—vows at the Ministry and we go home in our pyjamas."

"Absolutely not." Andromeda's tone was severe. "If we're going to pass this off as a real marriage, you'll need a wedding to match. No one will bat an eye if you have a simpler wedding, given your personal tastes, but marrying in your pyjamas at your workplace won't do."

"We discussed this while you were deciding what parts of the truth you were going to tell us," said Ted, not looking up from the ever-growing guest list. "Family and friends, perhaps fifty guests, along with those Remus wants to invite."

The longer he spent with Andromeda and Ted, the clearer it became to Remus how Tonks turned out the way she did. Nymphadora Tonks was, without a doubt, her parents' daughter.

"Nymphadora, I'll measure you now for your dress. If I start now, I'll have something ready as early as November."

"Speaking of which," Tonks said, putting her elbows on the table. "Any chance you could rush dress robes for next week? Remus is my date for Sonia's wedding and his robes are…not great."

"Did you have a color in mind?"

"A soft green, maybe?" Tonks said, looking at Remus, whose mind was trying to catch up with the turn of events. "He's got a little green in his eyes, see?"

Tonks pointed to his irises; he hadn't a clue that there was green anywhere there.

"Stand up, Remus," Andromeda ordered. "When we host your engagement celebration, you can wear the same robes to it."

"Engagement celebration?" Remus asked, as Tonks tugged on him to stand up.

"As soon as you 'propose,'" said Ted, now moving onto a budget, "we'll host something here for our closest friends and family."

A measuring tape popped out of Andromeda's wand. It was impressive charm work; the tape measured him, allowing Andromeda to write the numbers down, without her having to lift a finger.

"You'll need a haircut," she tutted, while writing down his waist size. "Stay there. I'll trim it for you."

"Th-thank you?"

"No need to thank me," Andromeda replied. "If you're going to play the part of my daughter's beau, you're going to look it." She set her quill down, took her wand, and fashioned the end into shears.

"See? I told you, Remus, mum's the best with these householdy spells."

As strands of silvery and sandy brown hair fell to the floor, Remus concluded the evening couldn't have been any stranger. He re-resigned himself to accepting the Tonkses as his in-laws, for as long as the law enforced it.