Author's note: this chapter takes place during, and immeidately after the party in "The Woes of Mrs Weasley". I love Hermione but it struck me that the choice of words in the snippet of her conversation with Lupin that we hear was pretty tactless, and I wondered how he might have felt about it.

"Well, that was a lot of information about broomsticks," Remus said, his mouth twitching and nodding to Ron, who had finally finished regaling Tonks with everything that could possibly be said about his new cleansweep and was talking to Hermione

Tonks grinned and accepted the goblet of punch of which Remus had been holding in readiness for the moment when he eventually managed to work his way around the room to her side.

"At least I'm prepared if I'm ever in the most boring pub quiz ever," she shrugged. "But he's a good kid. It's nice to see him so pleased. Besides, I preferred that conversation to what Hermione was saying to you. I heard quite a lot of it while I was zoning out during the broom stats."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "I'd have thought you'd be sympathetic to her position on house elves," he said.

"Yeah, I am, it's not that. It was what she said about werewolves..." Tonks broke off and bit her lip. If Remus hadn't picked up the implications of Hermione's words then she sure as hell shouldn't be pointing them out to him.

Remus sighed, his eyes on Tonks's lips. "Don't worry, I got the sub-text. The underlying assumption that werewolves, whatever else they may be, aren't wizards. That they are - that we are like house elves, in a different category altogether."

"I almost came over and gave her a piece of my mind, as my Gran would say," Tonks said.

"Hermione means well, Tonks, and she's not prejudiced. When I was teaching at Hogwarts she knew I was a werewolf for months and she said nothing to anyone."

"I know. It's just - it's almost worse hearing it from someone who isn't a tosser. Like, it just shows how even the best meaning of people don't - they don't..."

"I know," Remus said, softly, trying not to show in his face how much it meant to him, seeing how deeply she cared. "But I can't get upset about it every time."

"Of course not," Tonks said hurriedly, annoyed with herself. What, was she trying to make him feel worse? "But Remus, don't you ever get angry? Not with Hermione, I know she's just a kid and she gets carried away. But in general. You know, I've seen every single other person in this room absolutely lose their shit at least once, and I've never seen you be more than slightly frosty. Why not?"

It wasn't a conversation that Remus wanted to be having, but he felt that he owed her an honest answer.

"Losing control is a privilege I can ill afford," he shrugged. "Everyone's worst fear about werewolves is what we'll do if we lose control, and it's hardly unfounded, even if it's only actually relevant once a month. I've conditioned myself to never, ever fan the flames of that fear if I can possibly help it. I never let my guard down, never give in to - well, anger or any of the baser instincts."

Tonks stepped closer to him, biting her lip again, and Remus couldn't tear his eyes away from her mouth. "That's not fair, Remus. You should be allowed to exist just like everyone else, do what other people do. Baser instincts and all. I - I want to see you lose control." Her voice shook slightly and he looked up into her eyes.

"Are we still talking about anger?" he found himself asking, almost in a whisper. Before she could reply there was a shriek from upstairs. Molly's voice raised in anguish came down the stairs, and Harry's shouts followed it. Remus was halfway out of the room in a second. Tonks made to follow, but Sirius was closer to the door and got in between them, bounding up the stairs three at a time.

By the time Tonks arrived in the doorway of the drawing room, Remus was in the act of banishing the boggart and then Molly was sobbing in his arms, while Harry stood looking awkward and shaken to the side. "Just a boggart," Sirius mouthed at Tonks. She nodded and set off down the stairs to reassure the others.


It was quite a long time later that Remus and Tonks found themselves alone together again. Almost everyone else had gone home or was in bed, and Tonks came into the kitchen from the basement where she and Sirius had been clearing up from the party, with only one breakage from Tonks, which was a record. Remus was there, alone, drying up some goblets with his wand. His hair was disheveled and he looked tired, as usual, but he gave her a genuine smile when he saw her come in. He had had plenty of time to give himself a stern talking-to after the near miss of earlier in the evening and he felt back in control again.

"I thought you'd gone home," he said, putting his wand in his pocket and picking up some goblets to return them to the cupboard.

"I wanted to see you," she told him, frankly. It was extremely quiet in the kitchen, and she felt like she could hear her own heartbeat. "I wanted to say that you're the bravest man that I've ever met."

He paused in the action of lining the goblets up neatly in the cupboard and stared at her. "Tonks, it was just a boggart. You've told me about your auror training and what some of your missions have been like, you could eat boggarts for breakfast."

"It's not the boggart itself. I saw the form yours took, Remus. Most people's boggarts are things that they never have to deal with, unless they seek them out, y'know, dragons, trolls, things like that. You face yours every month."

"I don't think it counts as bravery if you have no choice," Remus replied, wryly. "Besides, have I told you about the boy I taught whose boggart took the form of Snape? He had to face his greatest fear every single day at school, poor child."

"Why do you always do that, Remus?" He had put away all the goblets now, and had no option but to look at her as she continued. "Why do you deflect me, push me away, when I say something nice to you?"

He looked down at her, desperately trying to take the conversation into less dangerous territory. "You seem uncharacteristically determined to have a serious conversation tonight, Tonks." He had been aiming for a light, teasing tone, but he knew he had failed.

"D'you know what," she replied, sounding angry all of a sudden. "Fine. Forget it. Let's go from serious to completely ridiculous. Do you know that I envied Molly Weasley this evening, because she knows what it's like to be held in your arms? To have you touch her hair?"

"Tonks, I - I don't know what to say."

"Told you it was ridiculous," she looked down and scuffed at the ground with her Doc Marten boot.

"Tonks," he lifted her chin very, very gently so that she was looking at him. "If I were to take you in my arms, it wouldn't be anything like that."

"Show me, then," she met his gaze, her eyes blazing, glorious and unafraid. "Show me what it would be like."

"You know I can't, Tonks." His body was taut with repressed desire. The air felt thick with longing. "I want to - I don't think a man has ever lived who has wanted anything more. But you know what I am."

"I know who you are," she said. And she kissed him gently on the mouth. At that, he took her in his arms and showed her exactly what it was like for him to lose control in the best possible way.