Amid My Solitude

His mien distinguished any crowd,
His credit strengthened when he bowed;
And women, young and old, were fond
Of looking at the man Flammonde.
-- Edwin Arlington Robinson

"There you are dear, I was wondering when Remus was going to stop monopolising you," Molly said, as Arthur appeared at her elbow. "Kingsley's just brought news from down south, and I thought you two might discuss it."

"It's nothing urgent," Kingsley Shacklebolt rumbled, with a toothy grin. "How've you been keeping yourself, Weasley?"

"Pretty well," Arthur replied. Tonks, sidling up next to Kingsley, passed him a few letters and greeted the Weasleys with a grin. "Wait until you hear what undercover work Tonks has been doing -- "

"Now, now, don't be a tale-carrier, Arthur," Molly said severely, as Tonks blushed. Kingsley raised his eyebrows, but didn't inquire further.

"I tell you what, why don't you make a quick report now, and then we can enjoy the party," Arthur said, leading Kingsley away.

Tonks noticed Remus, standing alone at the edge of the counter, staring at his drink as if it would rise up out of the cup and bite him. Come to think of it, Snape had been in charge of the drinks, so perhaps it could. Tonks still had memories -- patchy, admittedly -- of the many times she'd blown things up in Snape's class. He still flinched whenever he saw her pick up a cup.

"Arthur and I both think it's a good thing," Molly said softly. Tonks looked back at her, startled. "He's a good man, Tonks."

"Oh, we're not -- I mean, it was just the one...just for fun, really," Tonks added.

"Hmm, and just now, when you two were supposed to be guarding the roast, that was just fun also?"

"Do you think anyone saw?"

"Only about half the Order," Molly said comfortingly. "Admittedly, from where we were, he could have been trying to help you fix a hangnail."

"I don't want all kinds of gossip flying about either of us."

"Then kissing in the kitchen of Headquarters is probably not the way to go." Molly patted her arm. Tonks turned to look at Remus again, but he'd vanished. "Listen, poor Severus is sitting all alone again, I'm going to go try and have a chat," Molly said.

"I think he rather likes sitting alone," Tonks answered. Molly sighed.

"Now there's a man could use some fun even more than Remus," she agreed, as she wandered towards the sullen man in the living room. Tonks, peering about, realised that the bag Remus had brought downstairs was still sitting on the counter. She picked it up, and glanced around for him.

Well, she was an Auror after all, she thought, as she took a scroll out of the bag and unrolled it, catching the quill in the centre as she did so. Notes of some sort; it looked like an essay on advanced charms.

She rolled it back up, replaced it in the bag, and started for the stairs. Perhaps he'd gone up to fetch something.

She'd never seen Remus' room -- rooms, really, as he lived at Headquarters and so was entitled to one of what must have once been guest-suites, on the second floor. Most Order operatives had a bedroom in the sprawling house, but even those looked more lived-in than the spartan place she saw when she knocked, pushing the door open gently.

There was a bare desk piled with books, a rickety chair, and a tattered sofa covered in what looked suspiciously like wolf hair, all arranged haphazardly in the room. The only real human touch was an enormous bookshelf, in utter disarray, contrasting with the neat bareness of the rest of the space. There wasn't even a rug.

Remus Lupin stood in the middle of the room, two fingers on his lips, his left hand supporting his right elbow.

"You left your bag downstairs," she said, holding it out to him. "I thought you might've run off from the party."

"Hm. Thanks," he replied absently, accepting the bag and putting it on the couch without even looking at it.

"What're you...doing?" she asked, coming in to look around. As far as she could tell, he was staring at the fireplace intently.

"Thinking," he replied.

"About...?" When he didn't answer, she tried again. "About Sirius?"

"Erm...actually..." he finally seemed to notice she was there, and put his hands on his hips. "About furniture."

"Furniture?"

"Yes, well, if I'm going to be here a while, I mean I ought to make it sort of homelike, don't you think?"

Tonks glanced around. "Haven't you...already been here for a while?"

"Yes, but that was before I knew I was staying."

Tonks wished, plaintively, for a map of the human mind. "Why wouldn't you be staying?" she asked.

"Oh, I never stay," he said. "I mean, I'm always getting fired or chucked out or leaving because the alternative is worse. So if I'm going to be staying I think I ought to devote some real thought to furniture."

"Did someone spike your punch?"

He gave her a smile, and moved to lean on his desk, shaking his head. "I just realised that the Order isn't going to throw me out. They nearly did last time, you know, they thought I was a spy. Apparently, however, I'm rather more important this time round."

"Course you are. Nothing would get done otherwise."

"No-one's indispensable, Tonks."

"No, but it'd be tough going taking orders from Kingsley all the time. Or Snape!" she added, and was gratified to see him laugh.

"Now then, Tonks, bugger off and find something to keep you occupied," he said, in an excellent imitation of Severus Snape's low voice. "I haven't time to think about other people, I'm far too immersed in my own angst."

Tonks grinned, and examined his bookshelf.

"It's just that nobody told me I was supposed to be leading anything," Remus said, in a more serious tone. "It's awful to find out second-hand that you're an authority figure."

"I suppose everyone took it for granted that you knew. You always know everything else."

"I highly doubt that." He shook his head. "For instance, there's the Tonks question. Two, really."

"Oh yes?" she asked, hands on hips. "And what are those?"

"Well, firstly, I can't go about calling you Tonks, it's ridiculous for a grown woman to be referred to as a naughty slang word. You know there are infinite ways to shorten Nymphadora, which I admit is an awful thing to do to a child. You could be Nym -- "

"Oh yes. Nym is a huge improvement over Tonks."

"Or Dora, that's a nice name. Or Adora."

"Might as well name me Narcissa, if you're going to call me Adora. And Dora's too plain."

"I may call you Dora anyhow."

"I'll call you Remy." She saw him shudder. "Truce?"

"All right."

"And what's the second question?"

He looked her in the eye, and then glanced away. "The true Tonks question," he murmured. "How I'm going to stop thinking of you in ways no self-respecting thirty-four-year-old werewolf ought to be thinking of a twenty-four-year-old Auror."

Tonks blushed, a little, and realised that her hair had turned red, as well. Remus gave her a funny little smile.

"Good trick," he said, nervously trying to change the subject.

"D'you remember what you told me on Saturday?" she asked. "That you're too old for me, and not at all safe?"

Remus, still half-seated on the desk, nodded soberly.

"I am...my work. Every hour, every day. I'm not very mature. Sometimes I have green hair. I'm suspicious of people, and I never say what I'm thinking," Tonks said, moving so that she stood far too close, legs on either side of his. He bowed his head. "I read the article in your book bag out of sheer nosy curiosity. I tend to knock things over. And I'm too young for you," she added, tipping his chin up. "So you see we are not a match made in heaven. And you don't have to worry that we'll hurt each other, because we're bound to, and it's too late to stop now. If I walked away right this minute, wouldn't it hurt you terribly? If you pushed me off, don't you think I'd be upset?"

Admittedly it was difficult to think rationally when a woman's thighs were pressed against yours, but Remus found the logic, however circular, to be intriguing. We can't hurt each other right now, because we're bound to, later...

"Why are you doing this, Tonks?" he asked. "Last time I could understand, we were both upset and I for one was drunk, and I...needed...I needed it. But why now?"

Tonks smiled. "I like you. I like talking with you. I like it when you make me make those little noises you've never heard before. You're fun, and besides it makes everyone else awfully jealous."

He laughed, a little, at that, and let her slide her thumb up over his cheek. Her left hand began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

"Scandalous," he said, against her mouth. "Thirty people at least, downstairs, eating their dessert and talking shop -- "

"Nobody paid any attention when I left," she answered. His hands had tugged open the robe she wore, pushed it off her shoulders, and slid against the light cotton tunic underneath.

"Lucky girl," he said, his lips over her pulse, trying to concentrate on her and not on the maddening way her hips pressed against his. When his thumbs stroked her breasts, lightly, she let out a small exhalation of air against the skin just under his earlobe, ruffling the short, downy hair there. He tensed.

"Did I do something -- "

"No, no," he said hurriedly, lifting his head from the crook of her neck. "No, it was...it felt quite good," he said lamely. She grinned.

"I've discovered a weak spot," she said, low and throaty.

"One of many, I fear," he answered.

She pushed his shirt off, and it fell to the desk, covering some of his books. She hadn't noticed last time -- had been too intent on his face and hands, on the smooth hard skin of his stomach -- but the soft, tufty hair behind his ears did not stop at his neckline; it extended down over his shoulders, ending a few inches away, so thin and fine that she had trouble even seeing it.

She ran her fingers through his brown hair, already threaded with too much grey, and down across his shoulders. He threw his head back, almost whimpering.

"That's really a rather...sensitive bit..." he managed. "Would you mind terribly if I...suggested the bedroom? Only...this desk is a bit rotten and I think we might break it -- "

She laughed, and nodded, and let him guide her into the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway to press her to the frame, and kiss her with that same absorbed attention he devoted to everything he felt really mattered.

"The doors will lock themselves," he said, between urgent kisses and hands undressing, clothing falling to the floor. "Werewolf precaution."

"Bring a lot of girls up here, do you?" she asked teasingly. He pressed her back into the bed, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, thumbs stroking his neck. He gasped.

"Just the one..." he said, hands on her thighs, spreading them gently. "There's a redheaded girl I know..."

It was, in some ways, not at all different from the last time they'd done this; Remus was not the most deft of lovers, but he made up for it in his absolute focus. She ought to be scared, he expected her to be frightened of his singleminded intensity. But it was far too exciting, and it felt far too good to have his lean body cover hers, to know that for this short moment he was thinking of utterly nothing except for her.

She, on the other hand, was too aware of too many things; the last gold of the sunset through the slats of his blinds, the smell of books and ink, the blankets cushioning them. She heard every breath, every sound they made, forming an odd rhythm in her ears that would not settle.

***

Remus was buried in a world that had shrunk to include only himself and the woman beneath him, her hands on his shoulders, her curving belly and hips, her breasts; just the feel and sight of her was overwhelming enough, but to be moving with her, inside her, to have her touch him in ways that he had never allowed anyone -- even other women, never had let them, had trusted them enough to let their hands roam as hers were doing.

You make me lose control, I can't control you and I don't want to, because it's so...good...

And then even before his low, final moan had faded from the echoing room, the tension rushed back -- he must certainly have frightened her this time, he had barely heard anything she'd said, and what if she'd been telling him stop, she was scared --

He pushed himself back, dismayed, and looked down at her face.

She was smiling.

Smiling! With her face smooth and full of lazy pleasure, eyes closed, lashes delicate and dark against her cheek. A curl of red hair clung to her temple, and he brushed it away, hesitantly. He flinched when she drew her legs up against his hips.

"I think," she said slowly, eyes still closed, "that we have here the makings of a really great shared hobby."

He laughed, relieved and almost a little hysterical, and lowered himself to kiss her, to roll slightly so that he wouldn't crush her.

"Athletic and inexpensive," he managed. She pressed her face into the hollow of his collarbone, nuzzling gently. "Though I imagine sooner or later they're going to miss us downstairs."

"Later," she said, against his skin.

"I'm afraid I ought to go back. Apparently I'm a leader. I believe this means I'll have to lead, at some point."

"You've been doing fine up till now."

"Yes, but I haven't had lovely naked distractions up till now."

"It's good to have hobbies. Reading big books on boring things, writing cryptic essays with long words, sleeping with Tonks..."

"I have a feeling not everyone is going to be as exuberant about it as Molly and Arthur," he said, reluctantly sliding to the edge of the bed, and gathering up his clothing. He passed her some of hers, and she gave him a sulky look as she pulled on her tunic.

"Maybe I'll stay over at Headquarters tonight. Wake you up at two a.m. in the altogether and see how dutiful you feel then," she said, squeezing the back of his neck.

"If you actually manage to wake me up at two a.m., Tonks, I will be forced to kill you," he replied, doing up the last button on his shirt. He stood and turned to face her. "Do I look presentable?"

"Eminently. The picture of a sober, conservative Order officer," she replied. "How do I look?"

"Like an imposing, objective Auror," he said, with a smile. "Go on down. I'll be there soon."

When she was gone, he sat on the edge of the bed, and rubbed his face, trying to ignore the thoughts whirling in his head.

Busy afternoon.

He laughed, slightly bitterly, and ran his hands up through his hair. Busy, busy Remus Lupin, studious werewolf, scholarly researcher, high official in a secret society, playtoy of a young Auror...

Somewhere, in some afterlife, Pads and Prongs were laughing themselves stupid over this.

***

As it turned out, several of the Order stayed the night; Fred and George lived there, of course, as it was convenient to Diagon Alley and the business that they were currently pouring all their resources into. Arthur and Molly had to get home and make sure Ron and Ginny hadn't strangled each other, but Mad-Eye Moody decided not to face the chilly evening trip, and Dumbledore said that he had no pressing business back at the school.

And Tonks stayed.

In Remus Lupin's bed.

Though, to be fair, mostly what they did was sleep. Well, Tonks slept, anyhow. Remus lay awake, replaying his conversation with Arthur over top of a long series of memories from the last few months. He remembered being irritated that the twins were pestering him about jobs to give the other young Order members, and he recalled that several times, people had come to him with the excuse that they couldn't reach Dumbledore.

He wondered if it had been some sly maneuver on Dumbledore's part, or some inadvertent misstep of his own -- if he had been gently nudged into this, or if he had stepped in unconsciously to fill the void. He rather thought the former. That was Dumbledore all over.

Tonks breathed evenly, her arm draped over his waist, her face pressed against his shoulderblade. And he wondered whether her being the one to find him, the night he'd gone drinking, was also a fortunate coincidence. Probably so. Nobody could have known what bar he'd go to, especially when it was a Muggle bar.

It had certainly proved fortunate for him.

But what should he do with his newfound authority in the Order? Keeping on as he had done, well, that had its appeal; it was what Remus Lupin did -- dealt with the moment and pressed onward, not looking back if he could help it.

On the other hand, he ought to try and work the power line -- get Dumbledore to make a few changes. He supposed, if he had to, he had the power to come up with his own plans. He could make it Order business to find out things he, Remus Lupin, wanted to find out about Voldemort's activities.

He should make a list. Normally he would get up, fumble his way to his desk and, half-asleep, scribble down notes for the morning. But he was warm, and comfortable, and sleepy. And he didn't want to wake Tonks. If he did, she might try something, and he was already exhausted.

As he drifted off, he had one final thought.

I know what the first thing I'll do will be...