Things I Have But Could Have Done Without

Chapter Eight - Making Choices

"I trust you all had a restful Christmas after the distressing events of last week," Dumbledore begins as we hastily take our seats around the kitchen table.

Despite its large size, the room is crowded when the Order meets as a whole. But Harry and the others are here for a couple more days, and the kitchen is easier to Imperturb than the parlour, which has large open entrances. Ginny was trying to wheedle some news out of me this morning; the twins probably put her up to it.

"Arthur, it is especially gratifying to see you looking so well again. I cannot thank you enough for serving the Order at such great peril to yourself." Arthur nods.

Dumbledore proceeds to tell the alarmed group what I already know about where we stand with the Death Eaters. There are a few small gasps, and Molly is a bit pale. I know Arthur knew, but I'm sure he's chosen not to tell her before now, given the week she's already had. That little fucker Percy should be transfigured into something more fitting - such as a rat - for the grief he's causing his poor mother. As if almost losing her husband wasn't enough to be going on with for one Christmas.

Remus is sitting in the far corner next to Hestia, who seems to be casting sidelong glances down to Sirius. Although I can't be sure, as he's sitting directly behind me. During a break in Dumbledore's talk, she leans in to whisper something to Remus that is clearly not Order-related. Crikey, there's more drama going on in here than in the racy paperbacks my mum insists she does not read.

I catch his eye only once and he looks hastily away, as if he thinks our making eye contact will reveal to the room that we know each other head to toe. Actually, maybe it would, I realize behind a small smirk. Sirius has told me on more than one occasion this week how well-shagged I look. Which is a compliment, coming from him. I think.

For a second, I consider how this tendency of Remus's to keep everything hush-hush would have annoyed me even a week ago. I would have protested, to be sure. Who cares who knows? Let them think whatever they want... I can hear myself. But tonight I find it rather endearing. I'm pretty sure his desire to save it just for ourselves is genuine.

Dumbledore continues his briefing. "It is regrettably necessary for you to avoid being seen together in public with other members of the Order, as it calls attention to our movements and our investigations. Even while you are on an assignment as a team, you must maintain an appreciable distance from each other. Stay only as close as required to protect each other; no closer."

"Lastly, I must ask you all to exercise great prudence when you are not on duty. Aside from the obvious exceptions, such as Molly and Arthur, for example, I must ask you all to refrain from being seen together on a casual basis outside of your homes and headquarters."

I feel Sirius's breath on my neck as he leans forward to whisper in my ear. "There you go, love. Now you're all stuck in here with me."

It's getting tougher lately to discern whether Sirius is being solemn or just cheeky, so I start to turn to look at him.

Before I manage it, Dung's booming voice breaks through the room.

"Arggh! I don't bloody Adam and Eve it! That'll be the end of the Order's darts team, then, wonnit?!" After which he proceeds to burst into raucous, toothy laughter. Molly clucks and tuts at him, but Dumbledore joins in his joke, smiling that wide smile we've seen so rarely of late.

~

Much, much later, most of the Order has gone home, except for Sirius, Remus and myself, and Molly and Arthur. With what I can only assume is nervous energy, Molly is drying and putting away the dishes and mugs left in the drying rack by the sink.

With a meaningful glance at us, Arthur finally rises and goes to stand behind his wife. He wraps his arms around her waist, rests his chin on her shoulder, and whispers something in her ear that we cannot hear. Her reaction is immediate, though. In my peripheral vision I can see her set down her cloth and raises one hand over her shoulder to stroke his cheek.

They are such a perfect fit, balancing each other out, and I get a secret thrill from watching them sometimes.

"You three should get some rest as well. It's well past midnight," she says, bossing us even as she allows Arthur to lead her out of the room. We nod, or at least Remus and I do. Sirius is pouring another drink.

When they are gone, Remus begins to rise from his chair. "We should be on our way as well," he says. "It is late."

"We?" laughs Sirius good-naturedly. "Now that's adorable. You moved quickly to that from 'caution,' didn't you Moony?" It's clear he's been dying for this chance to jag us all day. And sure enough, he's gotten right to it.

Remus does glance quickly at me, and for a moment I'm not sure if he's embarrassed. But then he only smiles at Sirius indulgently.

"Go ahead, Padfoot. Give us your all, then. I've had worse than that from you, if I recall." And he takes the cloak from the back of my chair and holds it out for me to slip into.

Secretly, I'm relishing his easy use of 'we' and 'us,' and feel almost guilty of some unspecified girlishness. As if I've been scribbling Nymphadora Lupin in the margins of my Charms book or something. Barmy.

Distracted as I am by this thought, I turn quickly to gather my rucksack and catch my glass with my elbow, sending it flying across the table, where it rolls off the far edge and shatters unceremoniously on the tile floor.

So much for girlishness.

"Sorry," I mutter, as Remus casts a quiet reparo in the glass's direction and a small smile in mine.

We offer our goodbyes to Sirius, who doesn't look bound for bed anytime soon, and make our way out to the square in silence. I'm not really sure where we're going, or if it's the same place.

Before I can ask, Remus says, "Would you mind terribly having some company tonight?"

"Sure, that would be fine." Fine? Merlin, I'm such an idiot. I'm trying to play it cool, but my ear-to-ear grin is probably giving me away. In a poor attempt to hide my giddiness, I turn and quickly Apparate to my flat, and before I even get my footing I hear his 'pop' as well.

He takes our cloaks and hangs them on the rack near my door. The one that I knock over at least weekly.

"Tired?" he asks, which causes me to realize I haven't moved while he was hanging the cloaks. I nod incoherently.

"Would you like to turn in, then? You have to work tomorrow." He wraps his arms around my shoulders as he's saying this, pulling me into his chest. It still amazes me how the gesture can be so soothing and yet make still make my heart race.

"Not really," I mumble into his jumper. Then I pull back and look up at him. "I mean, unless you do. I don't have to be to work until the afternoon, and my brain's still humming." Oh, dear. I'm rambling. "I was thinking about a glass of wine... can I interest you?"

"That would be nice, thanks. Why don't you let me get it?"

I stop in my tracks and cast a playful glance over my shoulder at him, hands on hips. "Don't think I can manage a corkscrew, Lupin?"

He smiles a tired smile at me. "Ms. Tonks, I'm sure a corkscrew is one skill you'd have no trouble with." My jaw drops in mock offense, as he finishes, "I just thought you might want to change."

Oh. He's right. As I head to my bedroom, I realize I've been in these robes since yesterday, since I had back-to-back shifts - first for the Department and then the Order. And then the Meeting on top of that. I hadn't though on it till now, but all of a sudden I feel a bit grubby. And tired. I did catch a few winks on my Order shift, trading off with Arthur, but not much.

I decide to have a quick shower, and throw on some flannel pyjamas. Not the sexiest thing I own, although maybe the cleanest. And it is really cold tonight. I should light a fire.

When I return to the parlour, though, I find Remus has already done it. He's sitting on the settee, stocking feet up on the table. His eyes are closed and I can't help but smile a bit at how comfortable he looks here as compared with just a week ago. I could get used to it, I think.

Sliding onto the settee next to him, I retrieve my glass from where it awaits me on the table. Elderflower wine. I'd forgotten I had this bottle in the kitchen. He lifts his head upon my arrival and notices me looking at my glass.

"I hope it was alright to open it. You weren't saving it, were you?"

I feign seriousness. "I was, actually." He looks apologetic, so I save him. "For tonight." I am rewarded for my teasing with his smile, as he opens his arm for me to snuggle closer. There is a wool blanket across the back of the settee that I pull over us, and we just sit for awhile, watching the fire, drinking our wine.

After a while I notice him drain his glass and lean forward to set it on the table. Only then do I notice absently that I must have finished mine as well, as I am holding an empty glass.

He surprises me by standing then, and offering his hand. "Feeling more relaxed, now? We need sleep."

~

I slip into bed while Remus washes up, and realize when I hit the pillow that my hair is still damp. I cast a quick drying spell and feel warmer right away.

Remus returns to the room and extinguishes the lamps before slipping into our bed. Our bed? He immediately slides up behind me and wraps his arm around my middle, pulling me against him. I can feel the warmth of his bare chest through my pyjamas. And I also notice, with delight, that he is not wearing bottoms.

"Did I wake you?" He asks.

"No, just thinking."

"About anything in particular?"

"Harry."

"What about him?"

"Just that he has rather a lot on his plate for his age. How old is he now?"

"15 last summer."

"Wow. I wasn't thinking about anything as dire as this at 15."

"What were you thinking about at 15?" he inquires, rolling me onto my back to look at him, as if he apparently really wants to know, and at the same time tracing circles on my belly with his fingers.

"Hmmm... let me think. Quidditch, certainly... Music. I was always nagging my parents to get me tickets to concerts during the holidays. Complaining about the ones I missed while school was in session." I feel him begin to slide his fingers along my waistband, and then dip under it, and then swiftly slide my bottoms down past my hips.

I inhale sharply with surprised pleasure, but he touches a finger to my lips and says, "Go on. What else?"

"I suppose I was starting to think about a career," I continue, trying to keep my voice even. "I don't know when I decided to be an Auror, but it was pretty early on." He has removed my pants altogether now.

I love that this thing between us, whatever it is, is so grounded in our basic confidence in each other. Maybe that comes from having been friends first?

Momentarily I muse on how, impossibly - contradictory to every feminist notion I've ever had - his choice not to ask my permission to remove my clothing seems evidence of the trust between us. He trusts me completely to stop him should I so desire, and I trust that he would if I asked. If I wanted him to.

Which, of course, I don't.

He moves his body closer to mine, all of it, hard and warm and not possible to ignore. "The idea of you as a 15-year-old is fascinating."

I smirk. "I'll bet it is. Revealing your deviant side, Remus?" I chastise.

He shakes his head at me. "That's not what I meant at all. Your dirty mind just leapt to that on its own."

"You love my dirty mind, I believe."

"Guilty as charged," he says, and leans down onto his elbow.

"What were the things you wanted for yourself, Remus? You know, when you were young?"

"When I was young?" he winces. "That hurts, Tonks." But he is chuckling as well.

"Oh, come on, that's exactly what you asked me, and I didn't complain."

"I know. Fair question. It's a bit different for me, though, I suppose. Back then I never really thought about The Future in the same way that everyone else does. I lived month to month, even as a boy."

While we've been speaking he's moved on top of me, supporting his weight on his elbows, and gently slid inside me without changing the tone of his voice or the conversation.

I lay perfectly still, catching my breath. As if I am on a surveillance mission for work.

"But surely you had interests; things that were important to you."

"Of course. I think vaguely I imagined I'd pursue something in the editorial field. Writing, editing. I found some off and on assignments for a while. And then the war began..."

He has begun to move inside me, unhurriedly. And it is taking some fierce concentration not to throw this conversation out the window and just give in to the building tension in my body. But he is not usually this forthcoming when talking about the past.

"You became involved right away?" I ask. He nods, and slowly, very slowly, continues to move his hips.

I can feel my own hips lifting of their own accord, reaching up to meet him. I say, "What do you think you - "

He slips his hand up under the small of my back and pushes himself up very far inside of me until I begin to truly lose my train of thought. He has a way of moving against me, finding just the right spot to apply pressure both inside and out, that no man has ever found before. I close my eyes to savor the sensation.

"You were saying, Tonks?"

Hell, he's still listening to me. I don't even remember what I'd been saying. Caught, I can't help but laugh. "What?"

He laughs, too, and lowers his head to kiss me. Strangely, for the first time tonight. And it's so wonderful.

"You're so beautiful when you do that," he says after.

"Do what?" He can't mean kiss.

"Laugh," he answers. Oh. I take his face in both of my hands and kiss him, holding nothing back. Suddenly no one's laughing. And I'm so caught up in the feel of his warm mouth, the slide of tongue on tongue, that I almost forget he's still inside me. Until I feel him move again, rubbing deliciously against me.

And with that, we moan in unison into each others' mouths at the increasing heat and tension. He pulls back and looks at me with such an insatiable look in his eyes that I can actually feel the heat of the blush that spreads across my neck and cheeks. It's such a turn-on when he lets his guard down.

And then it gets even better.

Gripping my hips, Remus all but begs me to move my hips with one whispered word. "Go."

Whatever you want...

I lift my hips again, thrusting hard against him, and he sucks in his breath, and releases it in the form of my name.

After that, we don't slow down again.

He is more vocal than he has ever been with me before, telling me what he likes, asking for what he wants. It's like he's finally giving himself permission to really be in the moment, fully enjoy it, which on its own is amazing, and suddenly the idea of pleasing him is intoxicating. I want to satisfy him so completely he'll forget anything that's come before us. Like I already have.

I roll us over until I am on top. Just as I notice I'm still wearing my top, he proceeds to hastily pull it off of me, scattering a button or two in the process.

"Sorry," he mutters, but apparently he's not feeling that badly about it, because he pulls himself up then and wraps his arms tightly around my naked torso. The new angle of his cock inside me, combined with his warm mouth and tongue on my breasts, brings me close to completion, and I moan loudly to the room. Or maybe scream. I'm not sure.

This seems to be all the prompting Remus needs to hold me firmly by my back and begin driving into me eagerly. The new, rough friction is my almost my undoing, and when leans down to return his tongue to my nipple, I explode. Gasping.

He follows quickly after me, and I am pleased when he doesn't slow his pace, because it prolongs my orgasm so that I am finishing in time with him.

Spent and sweaty, we collapse in a heap side by side onto the bed. For a few moments, there is only the sound of our laboured breathing in the dim room.

"Bloody hell," he says, between breaths. "I'm in this much too deep." It's not exactly an open declaration of love, but coming from Remus, it's quite a lot.

Slowly, I move back in tightly against him and wrap myself around him, my face close to his. He notices my loaded expression, and raises his eyebrows at me to coax me to say what's on my mind.

As I fiddle with the hair that has fallen into his eyes, all I can think is how he's so unbelievably beautiful, perfect, in every way. Outside and in. And I almost missed it. I nearly had him in the friend column forever. I was an idiot.

The feeling suddenly overwhelms me, and, much like I did the first night we were together, I feel the tears begin to well up. This time, though, I hold them in check. This time, I realize, I need affirmation, not comfort.

"Remus ..." I begin tentatively, "If I tell you now, how I feel? Will you keep on doing this?"

"Doing?"

"Bringing out the best in me. Loving me ..." It's the first time I've used that word in any context.

"Tonks," he begins, his voice carrying a tone of warning.

"Remus, shhh." I roll back on top of him and put my fingers to his lips. "You don't have to say anything. Sometimes it's just hard for me to keep in what I'm feeling. 'Heart-on-my-sleeve' and all that rubbish, yeah?"

"I don't want you to hold back. It's just..." He looks me square in the eyes and his gaze is so intense that my first instinct is to turn away. But I don't.

"Tonks, if nothing else, you deserve to know that I've never been this close to another woman. Even as a friend, actually. You mean more to me than I can possibly say." He strokes my cheek; tucks a stray hair behind my ear.

"Still," he continues, "when it comes to speaking of love, or of what the future holds, together ... separately...those are topics of discussion I'm not prepared for. I'm just not ready for that. I'm so used to living one day at a time, and I can't change that overnight. If at all...But I know that I don't want to be away from you."

Quietly, and gently, I lean forward and kiss him just under his ear. "I'll take whatever you're offering." And I feel him relax once more next to me, his large hands finding their way back down to my hips and pulling me in closer.

He whispers quietly into my hair as he holds me. "I had convinced myself when we started this that I would keep a safe distance... hold onto my heart. And now, well, I've rather strayed from that path. I've lost my way."

"That's funny, because I've just found mine."

He doesn't say anymore, or if he does, I don't hear it, because I'm dead tired and sleep is fairly demanding that I pay her some attention at this point.

~

I wake to the sound of the kettle, and pull the pillow over my head. To no avail, it seems, since less than a minute later I can hear someone scrabbling about in my room, creating new morning-unfriendly noises.

"Come on, Sleepy," comes Remus's muffled voice. Peeking out, I catch a glimpse of him tidying up the room. He's showered and dressed already.

"You've slept long enough. It's getting late." He turns to walk along side the bed, seemingly destined for the window shades. Can't allow that.

Timing it just right, I dart my leg out from under the sheet, extending it over the edge of the bed. Sure enough, he catches himself on it and stumbles a bit, needing to lean on the edge of the mattress with one hand to regain his balance. I then seize said hand and pull him down next to me.

"Tonks ..." he's trying to sound so stern, but he doesn't put up much of a resistance to my snuggling into his arms.

"What time is it?" I mumble into his chest.

"Ten."

"Ugh. Remus. I don't have to be to work until one. You're not on duty today. Why are we up?"

"Well, for starters, you are going to eat something decent for once before a shift."

"You're cooking?!" Maybe I'm ready to get up after all.

"We're cooking. We'll do it together. Can't have you getting spoiled, can we?"

"Mmmm, too late," I say into his neck, nibbling a bit in between my words.

"Ahh... alright, that's enough" he protests, pushing me away gently. "Get up, already. I'm fairly starving waiting for your lazy bones to rise." He slides to the side of the bed and gets up.

"What's for finishers?" I ask, before he can go.

"Pardon?"

"Finishers. You said, 'For starters,' we need to eat. Starters is usually followed up with a second thing." He's looking at me like I'm completely barmy. Come to think of it, what the fuck am I talking about?

"Oh...right you are." I am?

Continuing, he says, "The second thing, as you put it, is that I need to get back to No. 12 and pack a bag before it gets too late. Moon's tonight." Just like that, and then he's heading to the kitchen, leaving me sitting in my bed feeling like a complete arse.

Why didn't I know that? What kind of friend am I?

I pull on my dressing gown and make my way to the kitchen, where he is cheerily gathering ingredients for our breakfast collaboration. He doesn't seem as agitated by my oversight as I feel, so I decide not to address it. However, I make a note to purchase a lunar phase calendar today so that I won't make the same mistake twice.

He puts me to work, and within no time we find ourselves back on the settee, plates in hand. For some reason, the table was not discussed as a destination. I've managed to achieve toast and tea, and Remus has whipped up some sort of egg-potato-onion-vegetable thing that I don't even have a name for. To call it an omelet wouldn't do it justice. I marvel again at how cooking is one more thing this man excels at. He was humouring me with the "do it together" business, clearly.

I'm sitting here thinking that perhaps eating a normal meal once in a while isn't such a terrible idea, when Remus speaks.

"What's in the suit bag?" My mother has had my new gown cleaned and pressed for me, and it's hanging in its bag on the back of my closet door, ready for tomorrow night. Suddenly I feel like I should have mentioned this ball before now.

"A dress."

He snickers a bit.

"Is the idea of me in a dress so funny?"

"Not funny, per se. Unlikely, maybe. What's the occasion?"

"My Mum is forcing me to go to this annual St. Mungo's thing tomorrow night. I got out of it last year, but she wasn't letting me get away with it again."

"Thing?"

"A ball...I thought about inviting you, actually ..." I sound almost shy, even to my own ears. He looks surprised, and dismisses the notion straightaway.

"Don't be silly, Tonks. It's a family event; I wouldn't expect you to -"

"No, really, Mum fairly begged me to bring someone, but I was nervous to ask you. I wasn't sure how you'd react."

He sighs, and puts down his almost empty plate. "Tonks, even if it weren't a full moon tonight, we have instructions from Dumbledore not be seen in public together. It wouldn't have worked out this time, anyway." He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.

For some reason, I suspect that he wouldn't have come even if neither of those things were true. But then I kick myself for being so suspicious. He has, after all, surprised me up until now.

"I know," I concede. "It was a nice idea, though. And now I have a little fantasy about you in a tux because of it."

"Do you, now?" He looks a bit embarrassed, which is adorable. "Well, I'll confess that I'm envious of the revelers who will have the rare treat of seeing Auror Tonks in a gown."

This reminds me of something I've been meaning to ask him. "Remus, why do you call me Tonks?"

Again, confusion on his face, in the form of those raised eyebrows. "You asked me to call you Tonks."

"When?"

"First day we met. Kingsley introduced you by your full name at a meeting, and you asked us not to use it."

"That's it?"

"Should there be more?" Actually, I'm not sure where I'm going with this. It just seems odd for some reason I can't place.

"Well, some of the other blokes I've been with have thought it was, I don't know... impersonal, I guess. Like once we became intimate they earned the right to call me by my first name or something. But you've never mentioned it."

He considers this and speculates, "Sounds like they were trying to stake some claim? Maybe that's unfair, I can't speak for anyone else. But I guess it doesn't really matter to me all that much. It's your name after all. Besides, why would I choose address you by a name you dislike? That wouldn't exactly have me in your good graces, would it?"

When did rational get to be so sexy?

~

After my shift at the Department, I meet up at headquarters at about 8pm to go over an upcoming assignment with Arthur. He and Molly are waiting in the kitchen for me with tea and biscuits. I guess the job comes with some benefits, despite the shitty pay.

Remus has already been to collect his things and gone, much to my dismay. Molly tried to convince him to stay, so she could fix him a meal tomorrow while he recuperates, but he was too apprehensive transforming with so many people in the house, especially the kids. I just wouldn't feel right about it, he'd insisted.

Saying goodbye to him this afternoon was more taxing than it ought to have been. I know he'll be fine; he's ridiculously cautious when it comes to transforming.

Still, I wish I could see him tomorrow. He won't be well enough to Apparate back from Wales until the evening.

First moon since we've been together and I have this stupid ball. What began as simple reluctance to go is turning to out and out dread. The idea of being dressed up and drinking champagne while Remus is suffering the aftereffects of yet another excruciating transformation is just irritating. Makes you realize just how much smoke and mirrors our lives can be. How we constantly convince ourselves that if things look pretty, they must surely be okay. And it's all really bullshit when you come to it.

"Thinking about Remus, dear?"

I nearly choke to death, as I inhale a large swallow of tea. Apparently, Sirius's well-shagged theory isn't as ridiculous as it sounded. Molly and Arthur and both examining me with their all-knowing, sympathetic faces. There's really no point in denying it.

"How'd you know?" I venture. If Sirius spilled it, he's a dead man.

I think Molly's going to be the one to speak, but instead Arthur says evenly, "The two of you haven't taken your eyes off of each other in weeks. We figured it was only a matter of time." They look pleased, and so I smile at them sheepishly, but I'm not really sure how much I'm supposed to share on the subject.

Thankfully, I'm saved from saying anything, as a there is a sudden rapping at the window in the door. Molly nearly jumps out of her skin, and immediately apologizes as we see that it's just an owl. Arthur goes to let the bird in, and it comes to land in front of me on the table, extending its leg.

Along with a note, there is a small box attached to him. My heart leaps at the though that it may be from Remus, but as soon as I begin to unroll the parchment, I recognize the handwriting as my mum's.

At once, I realize the folly of my first guess; the moon, after all, has been up for hours.

Sighing, I continue to read the note.



Nymphadora -

I don't understand why you won't let us collect you at your flat, but Daddy and I will meet you at the ball at 7:00 as you suggest. I saw these earrings yesterday and thought they'd go perfectly with your dress. Wasn't it lucky that I happened to stop into the jeweler's?

Until tomorrow - we can't wait to see you!

Love,

Mum

P.S. - Wear your hair a normal color, please. For me.



I open the box and see her find. Very lucky indeed. The earrings are very nice; sterling filigree and little dangly circles of what looks to be onyx and maybe mother-of-pearl. Not too much. Just ...pretty.

I tuck them under my cloak on the chair next to me and indicate to Arthur that I'm ready to finish our work, but he declines.

"It's getting late, Tonks. We're beginning to have a yawning contest now, and I doubt we're making much progress. Let's just pick up later; we've got a few days more."

To be honest, I'm relieved. I'm exhausted. By the time I Apparate to my flat, I barely have the energy to clean my teeth before I drop into bed in a heap and fall off into the abyss.

~

"Fucking shoes!" I shout at no one in particular, as I do battle with the strappy heels I unwisely selected for the evening. They looked funky and fun at the time, but I should have had the sales clerk demonstrate how the straps weave together one more time before I left the store.

Now I'm standing in front of my mirror, ready to chuck them while issuing a string of profanity that would make a sailor blush. It's behavior completely at odds with the picture of a lady the rest of me makes in the mirror.

My mother recommended that I have my hair done professionally (her word), and I hate to admit it but it was a good idea. Hairstyling is not a talent of mine. Or maybe I just don't have the patience to deal with it. Either way, there is a reason why I usually wear it very short or long and straight.

Before arriving at the salon, I morphed it long and dark. Maybe a bit darker than my natural color, but not black. Mum would have had a fit if I'd chosen black. The stylist curled it and swept it up into an intricate bunch of curls atop my head, with several pieces escaping around my face and neck.

It's a classic feminine look, and one I'm not used to seeing on myself. Still, I have to admit I like the way I look tonight.

The dress is very form-fitting, and flattering in all the right places. The iridescent satin lies flat across my tummy, making me unexpectedly grateful for my routine Auror drills. The thin shoulder straps cross on my bare back before they meet up again with the fabric which rises only a couple of inches above my arse. It would seem a risqué choice for a mother to buy her daughter, if you didn't know my mother was trying to show me off.

Oh, well. Playing dress-up is the least I can do for my mum; she means well.

Besides, it's actually a bit fun, I think, as I look into the mirror one last time, admiring my reflection with a tinge of guilty pleasure. My favorite part of the dress is the bodice, with its beautiful beadwork. Hundreds of the tiniest beads you can possibly imagine in lots of colors - silver, black, pale blue, ivory. When I first put it on, I felt like a little girl, admiring the sheer number of them, and the detail of the patterns.

Spinning around one last time, I'm thinking I clean up pretty well. Something's missing, though.

Shite.

Earrings. I left them at No. 12 last night, I'm sure of it. I had no bag with me, and I know I didn't pocket the small box.

Time check: 6:48 - I can probably make it if I hurry.

I Apparate straight into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and in the process turn my ankle in my stupid, stupid shoes. Damn.

Sirius is the only one in the room, standing near the sink, and upon seeing me lets out a long, low whistle.

"Holy shite, you look amazing," he leers, looking me up and down without embarrassment.

I've no time to engage in the game. "Sirius, have you seen a small jewelry box in here anywhere?" Immediately I begin rummaging around the shelves that line one wall of the kitchen. But they're not here. I'll have to go ask Molly. I'm sure she and Arthur must have found them in here.

Just as I approach the door, it opens suddenly and I collide hard into someone's chest. Remus.

"Remus!" What is he doing here?

He steadies himself, and me, and pulls back to look at me in my dress..

"Oh my God," he says faintly, awe in his voice.

I blush. Again. What's happening to me?

He looks terrible, standing here in his dressing gown, grey under his eyes. On instinct, I wrap my arms around him tightly. I hope I'm not hurting him.

"What are you doing here?" I ask quietly.

"Molly sent owls this morning until I relented. She's been killing me with kindness all afternoon."

"Tonks, is this the box?" Sirius pipes in. I jump slightly. I'd actually forgotten he was in the room.

He's standing there holding the small white box up for me to see.

"Yes, Sirius, thank you. They're from Mum."

As I grab them and hurriedly put them on, Sirius scuttles out of the kitchen, imploring me to have fun.

I look back to Remus, internal conflict waging a war inside me. I wish I could stay and take care of him. He brings his hand to me cheek, followed by his lips.

Then he whispers, "You look devastating. Your mother will be pleased." And for just a moment he lets his hand slide down the smooth fabric on my hip.

Reluctantly, I manage, "I have to go. I really don't want to listen to my mum bitch all night about my being late. Could I see you later?"

He shakes his head. "No, you should go home. I'm going to take a sleeping draught tonight. You get some rest. We have to bring the kids back to school tomorrow, you and I."

"How'd I get that plum assignment?" He just smiles and shrugs, and gently pushes me away so I can leave.

With one last fortifying look at him, I take a deep breath to gather myself, and feel the familiar tug of Apparation - more pronounced in this dress - and find myself in the foyer of the large ballroom.

Mum is standing just outside the doors, tapping her foot at me, and Dad is beaming at me. He moves forward to kiss me on the forehead.

"Mum," I start in, "It's only 7:03, for Merlin's sake ..."

~