Celebration

They had looked forward to this day for so long that now that it was here, they didn't quite know what to do with themselves. Not one single member of the Order of the Phoenix could have anticipated how wonderful it felt to finally be rid of You-Know-Who once and for all. What they'd been working toward for so many years, pouring their hearts and souls into this one objective...

...and now they'd done it. Or rather, Harry Potter had done it, and they'd helped in a hundred ways both large and small.

The celebration that night was one that would be talked about for the next thousand years. The memorial service that morning had been solemn and dignified, a fitting tribute to those who had given their lives to further the cause of the light, and there would be more time to grieve privately later. But everyone left felt that a celebration was the real way to remember everyone – a celebration that would honour both the living and the dead and help everyone move into a better world.

It was also the first time Nymphadora Tonks got drunk.

Oh she'd had alcohol before; she wasn't a prude. But this was the first time she'd felt comfortable enough at a party, felt like she had something to truly celebrate, that made it worthwhile. She couldn't think of a better occasion for it. The Unplottable Charms had finally come off of 12 Grimmauld Place, and there was a constant stream of well-wishers and party-goers in and out of the house all night. Remus and Harry had built a huge bonfire in the back garden, and Harry had taken great pleasure in throwing some of the more unsavoury bits of the House of Black into it. Cousin Sirius would have approved, Tonks thought, watching the happiness and laughter in the faces of those around the fire. She didn't join them, because in addition to it being the first time she'd ever truly been drunk, it was the first time she'd ever bothered to dress up for a party. Not too dressy by most people's standards, but extremely dressy by hers, including a short, flippy black dress, the sheerest black stockings that Gladrags carried, and a rather tall pair of heels. She wasn't normally one to dress up, but this was a special occasion if there ever was one, so she did. She was clumsy enough sober, and ridiculously so drunk, she quickly discovered, (whatever had possessed her to buy these heels she had absolutely no idea, but there she was, regardless), so she picked a spot on a wooden garden bench from which to watch the festivities.

Fred, George, Charlie, and Ginny had put together an impromptu band, helped along with a generous application of Acoustical and Self-Playing Charms from Hermione, and the garden was alive with the sounds of Ginny's and Charlie's quirky vocal stylings and the twins' backup antics. Most of the tunes were fun, upbeat numbers, but occasionally Ginny would turn out a slow tune that was perfect for dancing. Her voice was untrained but honest, and Tonks enjoyed listening to it as much as watching everyone else enjoy it. Molly and Arthur danced in the corner, Arthur ignoring Poppy Pomfrey's warning to stay off his newly healed leg for the next two weeks. Minerva McGonagall managed to drag Severus Snape out into the middle of it all, (apparently at wandpoint from the look on his face), Filius Flitwick stood on a packing crate so that he could dance with Emmeline Vance, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent so much time trying to figure out who should dance with who that in the end they just gave up on the logistics and danced in a group, all three of them together.

"Is this seat taken?" asked a voice. Tonks looked up to see Bill Weasley looking down at her, and she grinned.

"I'm waiting for some red-headed curse breaker," she replied. "Tall, usually wears boots and an earring, long ponytail, and jeans. Goes by the name Bill Weasley. Seen anyone like that around?"

"Oh, I saw him earlier. He said to give you this." He sat down beside her, putting one arm around her shoulders and handing her a fresh glass of champagne with the other hand. She leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder. "Having fun?"

"Mmhmm." She sipped her champagne, feeling wonderfully light-headed. "Is it a dream, Bill? Did we really do it?"

Bill squeezed her shoulder. "We did,"he said, sounding awed. "We really did." He shifted on the bench beside her, turning her a little bit to face him. "You know, that bit of detective work you did there at the end – that was brilliant stuff."

"Eh,"said Tonks, waving her free hand around in dismissal, but feeling her cheeks grow hot all the same from the praise. "It wasn't all that much, really."

"You say that now," laughed Bill. "It certainly didn't look like it then." His hand slid down her side to rest at her waist, his fingers curling slightly into the slippery material of her dress. "I was so proud of you. It made a huge difference, and you pulled it off like a pro."

She wasn't sure the heat in her face was from the alcohol or the unexpected praise. "Thanks," she said, thankful that she had the champagne flute to hide behind.

Bill reached up and slid the fingers of his other hand between hers around the glass, taking it from her hand. "Come dance with me." His hand on her hip tightened invitingly, his Weasley grin infectious.

"But..." She stuck out one size seven foot and wiggled it around, wobbling slightly.

Sliding off the bench, Bill trailed his large, work-worn hands down the sides of her leg, from the hem of her dress that fluttered around her thighs, along the bump of her knee and the curve of her calf, curling his fingers around her ankle and slipping her shoe off. His hands felt totally different with the wisp of sheer material between them and her skin, and she tried not to laugh as he tickled lightly at the sole of her foot.

"Stop that!" she laughed, wiggling her toes at him.

"What, stop now? You'll have one shoe off and one shoe on, and that's no good for dancing," said Bill. He took her other ankle, and after planting a kiss right on her kneecap, slid her shoe off and tossed it aside. "Now, that's better."

"Bill..." She felt warm fingers creeping up the backs of her calves, teasing the sensitive skin behind her knees, then moving higher to tug at the hem of her dress, while in front of her, Bill's permanently sunburned, freckled face smiled innocently. "Stop it. I'm not dancing – I've two left feet and you know it."

Bill tilted his head, his soft auburn ponytail sliding over his shoulder. "Please?"

"Fine," she said. As soon as she'd said it, Bill was on his feet, tugging her to the dance floor. Ginny was finishing up a slow number, but a glance from Bill and she started in on another, and Tonks tried to relax and enjoy herself. After a few bars, she didn't really have to try anymore – Bill was easy to dance with, holding her close enough that she didn't have to move very much. She leaned her head on his shoulder and let him sway them back and forth to the beat, the warmth of his body and the buzz of the champagne creating a pleasant tingle all over her body.

"Have you ever thought about what you'd do...you know, after?" said Bill softly. She could feel his breath in her hair. "You know, after the war?"

"Hmm," she said, nuzzling her face along the side of his neck. His jumper smelled like the Burrow, all homey and warm. "I don't think I ever have, really. I wasn't sure if there would ever really be an after, I think." She caught a glimpse out of the edge of her fuzzy vision, of Snape and McGonagall sitting at a table with champagne flutes in their hands and ...Snape was laughing. Tonks squeezed her eyes shut. She must've had too much to drink if Snape was being pleasant and sociable.

"I have," said Bill. "Thought about after, I mean."

"You have?"

"Yeah," he said. There was something about his voice that made Tonks look up, and when she did she saw that a red flush was creeping up Bill's neck and cheeks, just like his little brother Ron did when Hermione sat too close to him at the dinner table. "A lot, actually. Especially now that 'after' is 'now'."

Tonks started to reply to that, when she peeked over Bill's shoulder and saw that as Harry, Ron, and Hermione danced, Harry's hand sneaked around to rest on Ron's bum. Tonks blinked a few times, trying to clear her head, but Harry's hand was still there, firmly lodged in Ron's back pocket. She looked around a little, and no one seemed to notice or care about this little development. Maybe she'd had a little more champagne than she thought, if Harry was feeling up one of Molly Weasley's sons in public, and not her daughter, and Molly hadn't flown into a tantrum.

She pulled her attention back to Bill. "So, what were you thinking about?"

"Oh, just things," said Bill lightly. "What I want to do, where I want to live...who I want to live with."

"Live with?" She stumbled a little bit, even though they weren't really dancing anymore, just sort of swaying in place. Her heart was beating unnaturally fast. Bill steadied her, looking rather nervous.

"Yeah. Well...I thought maybe..." One hand went up to rub at the back of his neck, and he looked sort of lost, before blurting out, "Ithoughtmaybewecouldgetmarriedandyoucouldlivewithme?"

That was it. She'd definitely had too much alcohol if Bill was proposing, because they hadn't been dating that long and they'd only slept together a few times and there really wasn't any way that this was anything more than a figment of her alcohol-saturated imagination which was as clumsy as she was even when she was sober and oh God he was pulling something out of his pocket and it looked like a ring how could he afford a ring well he did work for Gringotts' after all but still they just came out of a war and oh yes it really was a ring she'd definitely had too much to drink and right now might be a good time to sit down.

So she sat.

On the ground.

Right in the middle of everyone dancing.

Bill knelt down beside her, peering at her anxiously. "Are you okay?"he asked.

The small gold ring with its chip of diamond in it sparkled in his palm from the light of the bonfire, but she didn't move to pick it up. "Er,"she said. "Well, I don't know, I think I've had too much to drink. I mean – "she gestured to the table where Snape and McGonagall were still sitting, chatting animatedly, " – look. Snape's laughing, and Harry's got his hand half down your brother's trousers – "she pointed to the other side of the garden where Harry now had his other hand twined with Hermione's which was really just too much for her to process at the moment, "and you're sitting there with a ring. So yeah. Too much to drink."

Bill laughed, sitting down beside her and stretching out his long legs next to hers. "Snape is celebrating his liberation from the Death Eaters, so I don't blame the greasy bastard for laughing. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are old news, though I don't think they realise that. Mum's had her suspicions for three years already. And I," he said, leaning closer, holding the ring up between his thumb and forefinger, "am completely serious. I am asking you, Nymphadora Tonks, to be Nymphadora Weasley. Or Tonks Weasley. Or whoever you want to be, as long as you'll be my wife."

It wasn't until he slid the ring on her finger, warm from being in his pocket all evening, that she finally realised that it wasn't just a figment of her imagination, but he really was asking her to marry him. There was so much she wanted to say, but only one thing was necessary.

"Yes," she said, and kissed him.