Saturday evening, 7 September 1991

An orange ball of fur was curled up on Tonks's lap by that evening. Sitting across from Tonks was her father-in-law, Lyall, with a black kitten in the crook of his arm. Remus was in the kitchen, doing the dishes after their dinner together, while Tonks and Lyall relaxed in the living room with the new additions to the home.

"What do you think, Lyall?" asked Tonks, as she gently rubbed the space between the kitten's ears. "Think he looks like a 'Floyd'?"

Lyall gently ran his finger along the black kitten's back while peering at the ginger one.

"He does," Lyall agreed. "That was Remus's suggestion?"

Tonks grinned. "He named both of them. He didn't want to, but I told him that if he didn't, I'd name them after my parents. Now we've got Floyd and Carys."

Lyall smiled at Tonks and chuckled softly. "He chose Welsh names."

As the gentle tinkling of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen, Tonks's mind drifted back to the morning. She had worked herself up to shout at Remus's friends for taking advantage of him, but only Peter had bothered her. James and Sirius, though they'd called her Mrs. Moony and Nymphadora, respectively, were jovial and let Remus leave the shop without making a fuss.

Something wasn't adding up for her.

"Bee in your bonnet, Tonks?"

Lyall's question startled her. With her curiosity burning, Tonks ventured, "Has Remus always worked long hours at the shop, do you know?"

It seemed as if the light dimmed from Lyall's eyes. "I don't know. Remus and I . . . we don't talk as much as a father and son should, I might say."

"Well, erm, did he ever tell you that he's got the smallest share?"

Lyall shook his head. "It's news to me."

Unexpected pity for Lyall coursed through Tonks's heart. Perhaps Lyall hadn't been surprised when Remus worked late and missed dinner at her parents' earlier that week; perhaps Remus wasn't a 'family' man, as her mother would say. Tonks let Floyd hop off her lap and curl up next to her thigh, wondering how soon the kitten would be replaced by a baby, and how long it would take for nights like this to become the norm: Remus in one room, cleaning or busying himself with something else, while Tonks, Lyall, and the next little Lupin sat together, apart from Remus.

Lyall set the kitten down on his lap and fixed his gaze, with the same honey brown shade as his son, on Tonks.

"Is something bothering you, my dear?"

Tonks bit the inside of her cheek and replied, "A little?"

"With my son?" Lyall asked, his expression sharpening. "Has he done something?"

"No, erm," Tonks said. "Well, not exactly—"

"He is good to you, isn't he? I'll set my son right if he isn't."

Lyall's voice was low and measured; Tonks dragged Floyd back into her lap, feeling uneasy under his sharp gaze. He cast a Silencing Charm on the space between the living room and the kitchen. He set Carys, the black kitten, on the wide arm of his chair and bent forward to look Tonks in the eye.

"If he's not a gentleman—" Lyall cleared his throat and his cheeks flushed to a delicate shade of pink. "If my son isn't treating you well—if he's hurt you—especially in the bed—"

"Oh!" Tonks's whole body felt as if it had been dipped in ice and then set aflame. "No, it's got nothing to do with that. There's no problems there—he's very gentlemanly—almost too gentlemanly—" She tried to smile through the awkwardness, but was sure she looked like her old cat when it licked an orange peel.

Lyall breathed a sigh of relief and lifted his wand.

"Wait," Tonks said abruptly, her confusion mounting, " should I be worried? That he'll stop being—being a gentleman?"

"I don't think so," Lyall said kindly, looking far more relaxed than he had before. "Hope and I tried to raise Remus to be a good man. We never knew how his condition would affect him in this part of his life. Werewolf stereotypes . . . we learned they were wrong, all of them, but a father's always going to worry over his son."

Tonks had already heard the lecture from her mother, the day she'd chosen her mystery werewolf bachelor. Andromeda, like so many others, had worried that Remus would be violent or aggressive. Maybe even Lyall had worried over this too. She tucked her pastel pink hair behind her ear. It was time to change the subject.

"I reckon my problem's more that . . . Remus works a lot. I don't know why his friends haven't tried to hire more people. I was going to tell them off, I was, but when I got to the shop I couldn't. That's what's bothering me," she concluded. "I thought this whole time that his friends were making him work late, but today got me thinking that maybe that's not true?"

To Tonks's surprise, Lyall swished his wand and lifted the Silencing Charm. He leaned forward and put his hands together. "My son is a good lad. He's always been good. He didn't have any friends growing up, you see, and when he made friends at school he was the happiest we had ever seen him."

Tonks frowned. "You think he's afraid of standing up to his friends?"

"Disagreeing with them, maybe," Lyall suggested. "He had a difficult beginning. He's got as close to the life I always wanted for him."

"As close?"

"My son isn't welcome everywhere. I don't know if that'll ever change. I always hoped he'd have a wife, a family." Lyall offered Tonks a small, grateful smile. "You haven't been in our family long, but I can tell you're good for Remus. I couldn't have asked for a lovelier young woman to be my daughter-in-law."

Tonks couldn't help the giddy grin that tugged at her lips. (She also couldn't help but think of Blythe, whose two in-laws, her husband's mother, and his dead wife's mother, were severe women.)

Remus appeared in the living room just as Tonks was about to ask more of Lyall, but all thoughts were forgotten when she laid eyes on her husband. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms, and Tonks felt her stomach flip at the sight. He met her gaze, and his eyes softened with the easy, unexpected smile that graced his face.

"How are the cats?" he asked, as he took the open seat next to Tonks.

Floyd, the orange kitten, backed away from Remus, but didn't hiss or swipe at him, as he had when Remus had tried picking him up at the menagerie.

"I think he's starting to like you," said Tonks. She lifted Floyd up and waved one of his paws at Remus. Floyd made a little hiss and wiggled back into Tonks's lap.

Remus rolled his eyes and sat back on the sofa. "I'll take what I can get. I doubt we'll be friends."

"Speaking of," Lyall said, eyeing Tonks, "how are the lads? The shop?"

"Busy as ever," Remus replied. "The Blacks will have twins soon. The Potters are on their fifth. Peter mentioned wanting another child the other day—"

"The one whose wife doesn't like him?" Tonks interjected.

Remus sighed. "They tolerate each other. You might meet her tomorrow, if she decides to show up."

"It must be hard to make another baby if you don't really like the other person," Tonks mused aloud, feeling fortunate indeed that Remus had a kind personality, though his relationship with his father perplexed her.

"Erm . . . " Remus rubbed the back of his neck. "They, er, make it work."

Tonks frowned at him, feeling as if he had more to say, but she held herself back when she thought of her mother's repeated advice: Nosiness is impolite.

"He's got a son, though, hasn't he?" said Lyall. "Peter's got the one boy?"

"He said something about Walter wanting a brother or sister," Remus said. "I suppose it must be harder for Walter, being an only child, while the Blacks and Potters have so many. Only children like me were more common before the laws were changed."

Lyall turned to Tonks. "Did you ever want a sibling? Hope and I wanted to give Remus one, but . . ." His voice trailed off as Remus turned his head away.

"Sometimes," Tonks replied, "but Mum and Dad had their hands full with me." She smiled, thinking of the many adventures she'd had with her Metamorphmagus abilities.

Little meows disrupted the quiet. Outside, droplets of rain started to come down and pitter-patter on the rooftop.

"I should be going," Lyall said, seeing the rain streaks race along the windows.

Tonks thought it was too soon for Lyall to leave—especially after hearing how little Remus saw of his father—but the two wizards were on their feet and making their way toward the Floo. Tonks followed them, made her goodbyes to Lyall with a tight hug, and then turned to Remus when the Floo was charmed closed for the night.

"Tea?" Remus offered.

A thousand questions raced through Tonks's head. She wanted to ask about the shop, his father, his work hours, or even if he thought his friends already disliked her, but none of those came out of her mouth.

"Sexy bedtime?" she blurted, feeling instantly stupid when she realized what she'd spouted.

At least Remus was kind enough not to laugh at her. Instead, his lips twitched in amusement and his eyes creased merrily.

"You want to go to bed?" he asked, his tone mild but clearly amused.

It was the first time he hadn't asked if she was sure. Taking the opportunity for what it was, Tonks quickly nodded, trying her best to hide her embarrassment.

Perhaps she'd ask him about the other things after they were done.

Sunday, 8 September 1991

Lunch at the Tonkses' had been a trial, thought Remus, while he waited for his wife to freshen up from the visit. Remus had been left alone with his father-in-law for an uncomfortable twenty minutes while Tonks and her mother absconded to the bathroom for a pregnancy test (which, to Remus's guilty relief, was negative, as it meant they would have to keep trying).

Ted Tonks was a jovial man, but in the witches' absence, he asked Remus pointed questions about his work, his hours, and his commitment to his new wife. It seemed that Ted and Andromeda were most disappointed that Remus missed the small, celebratory dinner for Tonks on her first day of work. Remus had already received a stern talking-to from his father about that the night before, moments before Lyall disappeared into the Floo, so when Ted began his lecture, Remus was already wracked with guilt.

Remus, filled with shame, was adamant that he would put Dora— Tonks , he had to correct himself, as much as he wanted to one day call his wife by her familial nickname—above his job. He would put Tonks and his future children above all else. If Ted hadn't been his father-in-law, Remus would've promised the man that he'd put her carnal pleasure first as well, but there were some things better left unsaid.

Though it appeared Ted accepted Remus's apologies and promises, Remus didn't feel as if his father-in-law was fond of him. His mother-in-law certainly had no warm feelings towards him.

So long as Tonks liked him well enough—or tolerated him, once the newness of sex and intimacy wore off—he could manage in-laws who disliked him. Most of the wizarding world didn't care for him; they would be no different.

Remus held onto the fervent hope that he might be good enough for Tonks to continue desiring his company, even if only in bed.

Tonks emerged from the bedroom, having changed from the blue sundress she'd worn to her parents' and into a pair of patched jeans and a golden yellow Hufflepuff jumper. Her hair was short and choppy, in the bubblegum pink shade she most liked.

It was startling how in less than a fortnight Remus's whole home had bloomed with color, and how the sight of her already brought a smile to his face.

"Is this okay?" she asked, turning around for him. "I want them to remember I'm a 'Puff."

"It's perfect," Remus replied. "Ready?"

Tonks nodded and took his offered hand. It felt like when she took his hand outside the shop; erratic fluttering invaded his body. Chalking it up to nerves, he focused particularly hard on the three Ds of Apparition, and landed outside the kissing gate of the Potters' home in Godric's Hollow.

"It used to be half this size," said Remus. Memories of early gatherings flooded his mind of everyone gathered at Godric's Hollow. The days of staying awake until the wee hours of morning were replaced by evenings cut short from one child or another needing to be put to bed. "As they had more kids, they added to it and let the ivy grow with it. I always take the Floo, but I thought you'd like to see the outside."

"It's pretty," Tonks said, as she peered up at the ivy-covered cottage. She hadn't let go of Remus's hand and he wasn't ready to let her go. He led Tonks through the gate, which allowed her through the familial wards, and walked across the mossy stone steps that brought them to the front door. The door had once been solid crimson, but after a mishap with gold paint and little Monty, it was decorated with golden handprints from everyone in the family.

Remus lifted his free hand and knocked on the door.

"They're here!" a girlish voice shouted. "Mum, Dad, I'll get it! I'll get it!"

"That's probably—"

As expected, nine-year-old Daisy Potter, Remus's goddaughter, swung open the door with a huge grin.

"Uncle Moony and—" Daisy's hazel eyes fell on Tonks.

"Hi," Tonks said brightly. "You can call me Tonks. You must be Daisy."

Daisy gaped up at Tonks in wonder. "Your hair is pink!"

Tonks bent down to meet Daisy's gaze and smiled. "What color should it be, do you think?"

"Red?"

In mere seconds, Tonks's hair deepened from its bubblegum pink to a tomato red.

Daisy's eyes flew open. "How did you do that?"

"I'm a Metamorph—"

"Daisy, there you are!" Lily came up to the door with Ralston on her hip and Monty tugging at her apron. She flashed Remus an apologetic smile and eyed Tonks. "I'm so sorry, Daisy's forgotten her manners."

"Mum, look what she can do, she can make her hair any color—"

"I can do even more," Tonks said. Daisy watched, transfixed, as Tonks changed her nose into a pig's snout, oinked, and returned her hair back to her favorite pink.

"Whoa," Daisy gasped. "That's wicked ."

"Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!" A messy-haired, seven-year-old Charlus Potter came running up from behind Lily. "They're coming! The Floo's on!"

"Okay, everyone inside," Lily sighed. She ushered the children back inside, but Daisy stuck to Tonks like glue and asked her to change her hair color again and again.

"Daisy, don't bother Mrs—"

"It's Tonks, please," said Tonks, as she morphed her hair to an emerald green mess of curls. "And it's no bother at all, Mrs—"

"Lily—"

"Hi Auntie Lily, hi Uncle Moony!" Walter Pettigrew zoomed past Lily, caught up with Charlus, and the two of them ran out to the garden without another word.

"And that was Walter," Remus said with a dry chuckle. "Here come—"

"Girls! Be polite!" Amelia called from the living room, where the oversized fireplace sat. "Remember, she's your father's cousin!"

Three nearly identical girls came to a stop in front of Tonks. They had Sirius's aristocratic cheekbones and raven black hair, but they had their mother's ice blue eyes and sweeter smiles. Unlike the others, the Black girls stood patiently, and Tonks couldn't help wondering if her own mother and sisters had been like that once.

"I've got them!" Sirius had Cassie on his hip, Remus's other goddaughter. He came around to the crowded foyer and grinned. "Girls, this is your aunt, who goes by Tonks. She's your Uncle Moony's wife, so we're really family now."

"Look what she can do," Daisy interjected, pointing up at Tonks's hair and face. "She can do anything—"

"Daisy," Lily said sternly. "Let's all go to the garden. Mummy needs to sit."

To Remus's surprise, Tonks took his hand and squeezed it as the children clambered over each other to get to the garden. He smiled down at her but resisted the urge to kiss her cheek; it was one thing for her to choose to touch him, or allow him to touch her when they were intimate, but it was another for him to take liberties where they weren't welcome.

So far, the visit to the Potters' felt like a success. He felt at home with his friends, Tonks seemed to do well with the chaotic onslaught of children, and there was already a family connection with the Blacks. Remus held a tentative hope that all would be well.

The moment Tonks clicked the lock on the bathroom door at the Potters', she breathed a sigh of relief.

It had been only an hour since her arrival with Remus, but she was exhausted. It was harder than she imagined to juggle the children's requests for animal noses, ears, and fur, with increasingly bizarre and funny combinations. Pig's snout, elephant ears, royal blue curls, a furry wolf's tail. Duck bill, rabbit ears, purple spikes, a curly hog's tail. Wolflike incisors, orangutan nose, neon green frizz, and feathery arms.

These requests interrupted her attempts at adult conversation with Remus's friends. Attempts was the only way she could describe it: she was never the type of person who would describe herself as shy or introverted, but Remus's friends made her feel shy.

They had inside jokes. They had years of history together. They had nicknames. They were real adults, all of them, and they were parents. Tonks felt like an overgrown child next to all of them, even if she was legally of age and was engaging in very adult activities with her husband.

It wasn't helped by the children's repeated requests, which she didn't want to turn down, but she felt more like one of the kids than she did one of their parents. It was true that she was technically closer in age to her ten-year-old cousin Carina than any of the adults, but Tonks wasn't a child anymore.

She wasn't quite the adult the others were, however. She had only five days' worth of professional work to speak of, while the others had years of jobs. It was true that for the wizards, it was their shop, but Amelia held a post in the DMLE and was close to securing a seat on the Wizengamot. Peter's wife was a Mediwitch, and though she didn't say much, she patched up Walter's skinned knees without saying a word. Lily stayed home with the children, but she sold her own potions, and she had a good working relationship with several apothecaries in Diagon Alley.

Five days in Auror training couldn't compare to any of their years of life experience.

Tonks gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She had returned to her favorite, pink shade. When she closed her eyes, she relaxed her features to the slightly upturned nose she was born with (a Black family trait that made her look haughty), and the slight dark circles under her eyes that she had developed halfway while studying through her N.E.W.T.s and hadn't disappeared.

She considered changing her hair to a duller color—one that would make her seem more grown-up—but she didn't want to pretend to be someone else. She had done enough of that when she was younger, and it never did her any favors.

The pink stayed in her hair, and when she left the bathroom and turned toward the kitchen, she was surprised to find Lily there.

"Oh, hi," Tonks said, after smoothing her jumper down.

Though Lily was heavily pregnant, she wore a pretty crimson dress that accented her auburn hair, and she had the glow that everyone said would happen with pregnancy.

"Care to sit inside for a cuppa?" Lily offered.

Tonks glanced outside the window: Remus was chatting with Amelia and Sirius, while the youngest children zoomed around their ankles on toy broomsticks. The older kids were in the enchanted treehouse the Potters built, which was shaped like a miniature castle and had a turret to look out of.

"It's quieter here," Lily said, "and I'm sure you must be overwhelmed."

There was something in Lily's tone that Tonks couldn't quite grasp, but it seemed that refusing the offer would be worse than taking it up, so she agreed to a cup of tea in the cheery, sunlit kitchen.

"How's it going with Remus?" Lily asked, a little too casually, as she set the kettle on to boil.

"Good," Tonks replied, clasping her hands together. "Better than good. Remus is great."

"He is, isn't he?"

Lily didn't have to look to point her wand in the right place. The cupboard flew open. Two mugs and two teabags lifted themselves off the shelves and landed on the counter separating Lily and Tonks. It was like the magic Andromeda could do, but Tonks had yet to even attempt.

"Yes?" Tonks held her hands tighter. Lily's tone wasn't unkind, but it didn't seem friendly either. "I'm happy I chose him."

Lily inspected her fingernails and placed her hands on her expanding belly. "Remus is like a brother to me, you know."

"Erm, yes . . . he said you're like his sister."

Tonks felt small under Lily's scrutiny, but that smallness quickly gave way to anger. What was she trying to get Tonks to say?

"And—" Tonks began, but Lily cut her off.

"Don't hurt him."

Tonks gaped at her, confused by the sudden change in topic, and the lingering, nearly threatening smile on Lily's face.

"What? Why would I hurt him?"

"You wouldn't, of course," Lily said, as the kettle began to whistle. She flicked her wand at the kettle and it poured steaming water into two identical mugs. One hovered into Lily's waiting hands and the other landed with a gentle clink in front of Tonks. Not a drop of water had spilled over the edges of the mugs.

"But why did you think I would?" Tonks demanded. "Because you think I'm prejudiced?"

"Let's just say that Remus has been burned before," Lily said coolly, with a measured sip of her tea. "You've got a lot to learn if you're going to be his wife."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Even though her palms were burning, Tonks couldn't let go of the scalding mug between her hands, or stop her hair from going to its angriest red.

"I'm not trying to offend you," said Lily, with her emerald eyes glancing up at Tonks's fiery curls. "I'm just trying to help you understand what you've got yourself into. Remus hasn't had it easy. We've all worked hard to fight for him for years, now decades. From the shop to his house, we've all been there in the best of times and the worst of times. You might be his wife now, but you barely know him. We're his family."

Tonks slowly released her grip on the mug in her hands as she forced herself to calm down. Last night, Lyall had said something similar, but it didn't feel like an accusation. Perhaps, like Lyall, Lily was just worried that a stranger would take advantage of Remus.

It was something Tonks could understand, even if she didn't like the way Lily talked to her.

"I promise I won't," Tonks sighed. "I've already seen how hard it is for him. Like I said, I'm happy I picked him. Remus is a good man."

Lily looked Tonks up and down for a moment, but seemed to decide against what she was going to say. Tonks's hair had cooled to a sunset orange, and if she wasn't careful, her temper might get the better of her.

If it had been another person, Tonks might've let herself get angrier. As Remus did think of Lily as his sister, and she brewed the pricey Wolfsbane Potion for him for free, Tonks was willing to give her another chance.

Lily cleared her throat. "Now that we've got that out of the way . . . I've got pregnancy tests, if you—"

"I'm good," Tonks said curtly. "I already took one today. Negative. Mum's having me take them every week."

Lily's tentative smile faltered. "I suppose you don't need my help, then."

There was a challenge in Lily's voice, which did nothing to help Tonks's irritation or the unspoken second chance she'd given her.

"You know what—" Tonks began, but her thought was interrupted by shouting coming from outside.

A second later, Laura, Peter's wife, came into the kitchen. "Amelia's waters have broken! Send a Patronus to her parents!"

Laura rushed back out to the garden. Tonks followed her, with Lily waddling behind, and they came to see Amelia being helped onto her feet with Sirius and James's help.

"Patronus—" Amelia groaned, clutching her giant belly. "Edgar—Mum—"

"On it!" Lily called. " Expecto patronum!"

A graceful doe emerged from Lily's wand. She instructed it to send a message to the elder Mrs. Bones, and when the doe went galloping off, another was produced with the same message to be sent to Edgar Bones, Amelia's brother.

"Mummy! Mummy!" little Cassie cried. "Mummy, don't go!"

"We've got the kids!" James said, meeting Lily's eyes. It was Remus, however, who caught Cassie running after her parents and lifted her up into his arms as she began to wail.

"It's all right, Cassie," Remus said, soothing Cassie. "Your mummy's going to be back soon."

Lily, James, Laura, and Peter collected the children from the treehouse and from their toys. Remus was calming Cassie down (inspiring a flurry of confusing emotions within Tonks), while she stood awkwardly in the garden, feeling pointless.

While Cassie quieted, Remus walked toward Tonks with an apologetic smile.

"Some introduction to my friends this has been," he said, swaying with his goddaughter.

"It's okay," Tonks murmured.

"It's not usually this hectic . . . the last time someone went into labor like this, it was Lily with Harry."

"The one who was just sorted to Gryffindor, yeah?"

"The very one," Remus said with a smile. "He looks just like James, only with Lily's eyes. He takes after Lily in personality, but he's got James's Quidditch mania."

"Cassie!" a girl called. "Cassie, where are you?"

"She's here, Carina," replied Remus. He turned around, where the Blacks' eldest daughter stood, with a facial expression that made Tonks chuckle to herself.

It was the same, haughty irritation that all the Blacks seemed to share, from Sirius, to Andromeda, to Tonks, and now Carina.

"Auntie Lily says our Gran and Uncle Edgar are going to be here soon so we've got to get ready," Carina said. "Dad put me in charge of everybody."

"Of course he did, you're the most grownup of your sisters," said Remus, while putting a now-smiling Cassie on the ground. "Where are the others?"

"Already inside," Carina said proudly, with a pleased smile. "I made Lyra and Ursula wait with Auntie Laura and Uncle Wormy."

"Let's not keep them waiting then," Remus replied. He gestured for Tonks to follow, and she joined Carina, Cassie, and Remus on their way back inside the Potters'.

At least, Tonks thought, as they crossed the threshold to the house, Amelia's early labor would mean she and Remus could go home sooner than planned.

The afternoon sun was beginning to set by the time Tonks and Remus returned to their home in Wales. It had taken just as long to get home. James and Lily thought it would be a splendid idea to speculate on whether Sirius and Amelia would finally have sons, and what their names would be, even though by that point it was only Remus and Tonks who were stuck in the Potters' living room. The Pettigrews left, the Boneses took their nieces, and though Tonks tried to drop hints that she wanted to leave, Remus was content to stay longer. It left Tonks to sit uncomfortably while Lily, James, and Remus talked about people she didn't know, or goings-on in Diagon Alley worth mentioning.

Tonks, though she considered herself a social butterfly, felt drained from the long day with Remus's friends.

"Are you all right?"

Remus's warm voice distracted Tonks at just the right moment; she had been absorbed in her thoughts and was close to knocking herself over the kitchen table.

"Yeah, er . . . I'm clumsy." Tonks yawned and gripped the back of one of the chairs. "I'm a tad tired."

Remus eyed her curiously. "I hope it wasn't too much today?"

"A little, but I'll be okay."

Remus gazed at her for another moment, and when she smiled at him, he seemed satisfied that she was as fine as she claimed to be. He took the kettle off the stove and began filling it with water as Tonks's mind drifted back to her conversation with Lily.

"Why did Lily tell me not to hurt you?"

Remus whipped around and set the kettle down with a loud clang . His brow had gone up into his forehead.

"Who said what to you?"

"Lily. She told me not to hurt you."

With a measured sigh, Remus slowly took a mug from the drying mat and set it right-side up. "I suppose . . . she's worried."

"So was your dad, but he was nicer about it."

"My friends . . . they know the world isn't kind to werewolves," Remus said, returning the kettle to the stove. "They don't trust easily. Not anymore."

"But I'm not the world. I'm just me."

"Yes," Remus said, turning his head to meet her gaze. There was an intensity there that Tonks couldn't describe, but it made her stomach flip wildly. "You're not the world. You're . . . you've been very good to me."

Tonks didn't know how she got there, but she found herself in his arms a moment later, holding him tightly, her whole body feeling as if it were on fire.

"I would never hurt you, Remus," Tonks said, with her face pressed against his warm chest.

"Thank you," she heard Remus whisper. "Thank you for choosing me."

Tonks inhaled his scent; how could anyone think she would want to hurt him? She held Remus for some time, maybe longer than she should have, but for reasons she couldn't put into words, she felt like it was where she belonged. She felt as if she could show him, and even his friends, that she would be good to him.

When she let go, she peered up and found Remus's pupils wide and dark. A quick glance at his trousers showed her that he could be easily persuaded to join her in bed; all the tiredness from before had gone away, and Tonks found herself drawn again to Remus's presence.

"Do you want to, erm, you know?" she asked.

Remus breathed quietly and tucked a tuft of her pink hair behind her ear. His thumb grazed her cheekbone, tender and gentle. The look in his eyes hadn't left, but had softened slightly.

"I wondered if you might like to go on a walk with me instead," he suggested. "The village isn't far."

Remus hadn't let go of her face. The burning in his eyes reminded Tonks of the times they were intimate, but it wasn't sex that he sought. It felt—and Tonks couldn't tell if it was real or imagined—as if he could be asking her on a date.

It felt even stranger when they had gone from talking about Lily to suggesting a romantic stroll in the village.

But that was preposterous, she thought to herself, as they were already married and had no need for dates. Nor had Remus said anything about romance, Tonks remembered.

It didn't mean that her curiosity wasn't piqued, however, or that she would refuse to walk with him to the village. After all, she didn't know her way around very well and she would benefit from being shown around her new home.

It would also be a nice, relaxing activity to get her mind off of his friends and the busy afternoon with them.

"Okay," she agreed, as a warm smile grew on Remus's face. He bent down just a little, and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead.

The flutters that followed were as perplexing as the puzzles Mad-Eye made her solve every morning to get into his office.

They had to be normal sensations, Tonks figured, as Remus led her around the quaint village near the home. It had to be relief and exhaustion rolled together in her mind, after a long afternoon spent between her parents', the Potters', and ending with the arrival of Amelia's labor. It was simply due to Remus's usual kindness.

Why else would she feel this way?