In From The Cold by Pallas
Summary: When Remus meets Tonks for a drink at the Three Broomsticks, he gets rather more than he bargained for...
Categories: Remus/Tonks Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 3 Completed: Yes Word count: 15021 Read: 10642 Published: 08/31/05 Updated: 09/20/05

1. A Cold Wind by Pallas

2. Hiding by Pallas

3. Warmth by Pallas

A Cold Wind by Pallas
Disclaimer: This is the house that JKR built. I am merely squatting. I do however claim squatters rights over anything not canon. :)

A/N: This fic was born out of two chapters in my longer epic fic "Oblivious" which is also posted here. Although I decided that for the purposes of that fic, I would keep the relationship between Remus and Tonks platonic, I did feel that these two chapters held the potential to be more and decided to use them as a basis for my first ever attempt at straight-out romance writing. I have carefully removed all "Oblivious" spoilers and made this fic a completely separate entity so there is no need to read "Oblivious" first (not of course that I would object if you did...:)) . This fic will be three parts long - the two adapted chapters with spoilers removed and new scenes inserted and an all new final part. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Since this three-parter is my first attempt at an all out romantic fic, feedback would be appreciated. :) This fic was written pre-HBP.

Part One – A Cold Wind

It was freezing.

Pulling his scarf tighter around his neck, Remus Lupin hunched down deeper into the protective but ineffectual warmth of his robes and cautiously quickened his pace. Care was required as icy patches glinted on the cobblestones ahead, frost lightened the eaves of Hogsmeade and occasional short but bitter flurries of snow dashed at his skin and spun, laughing, into the rays of light that slanted from the windows around. Glancing at the golden glows of distant fires and warm occupants, Remus couldn’t help but feel a slight gleam of jealousy for their snugness.

It was only the end of November, for pity’s sake. There was no way that it was allowed to be this cold without being officially winter.

Wistful images of the glowing fire in his chambers and the cheerful warmth of dinner in the Great Hall taunted him with tantalising glee.

What am I doing out here?

Keeping a promise.

Remus sighed. A drink with Tonks. Even given the way the idea had been thrust upon him, it really hadn’t seemed such a bad thing. Considering the less than fantastic month he had just had, a night out with a friend had indeed held a certain appeal.

Until of course the universe had decided to make that particular Tuesday one of the coldest nights of the year.

It had been almost three months now since his return to Hogwarts, resuming his position as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at the near insistence of Albus Dumbledore. That the Ministry and the governors had not been entirely thrilled by the prospect of the reinstatement of the infamous werewolf teacher would have been akin to suggesting that Severus Snape was not in fact the bounciest happy bunny in happy bunnyland, but Dumbledore’s arguments and the fall of Minister Fudge had combined to overcome the official opposition and opened the path for Remus to teach once more. That Remus himself had taken a great deal of persuasion was a fact less well known, but the absolute determination of Dumbledore to insure that, in these most dangerous times, the children were best equipped to defend themselves had eventually defeated his former student’s arguments. Under strict and sturdy guidelines regarding his full moon conduct, Remus had taken up his post once more the previous September.

The Daily Prophet had not been as easily persuaded as the Ministry. Hardly a week went passed without at least one vehement article, column or reader’s letter about the falling standards at Hogwarts and the dangers of a Dark Creature teaching their precious kids. There had even been several calls for his imprisonment in Azkaban should any hint of a break in the guidelines reach their ears.

And one week ago, the guidelines had been breeched.

It had not really been anyone’s fault. The inferiority of the particular batch of aconite that Snape had used in the brewing of that week’s Wolfsbane had not been uncovered until Remus had been four days into his treatment course. A random experiment had fortuitously uncovered the flaw and forced the Potions Master to summon his colleague and the headmaster and admit with irritation that there was a good to highly likely chance that the doses of potion administered thus far were as good as useless.

And so it had proved.

It had been Remus’ first transformation in the Shrieking Shack for almost twenty years. It had not been a nostalgic return.

The wolf had been caged for more than two years, restricted and numbed by routine doses of Wolfsbane potion. And it had been angry.

Three days of strict bed rest under Poppy Pomfrey’s care had seen the worst of his injuries healed, but a plethora of new scars now stained his skin, most notably a painfully visible swipe across his throat that he had taken to concealing behind high necked robes and carefully wrapped scarves. And even now, almost a week later, he still felt distinctly shaky.

Fortunately word of this breech of contract had not reached the outside world. Remus’ incapacity and his injuries had been attributed to an accident resulting from a slight Wolfsbane overdose – woosy from slight poisoning, Dumbledore had explained straight-faced to the governors, the Ministry and the children, Professor Lupin had tripped and fallen down the Staff Wing stairs whilst attempting to reach the Hospital Wing. That this story had been greeted with scepticism had not been at all unexpected and when word had arrived that a team of “impartial investigators” would be sent to probe into the incident, Remus had been filled with a distinct sense of dread.

Until the morning of the day before had arrived and he had discovered that the dreaded team had consisted of a vaguely bored official from the Werewolf Registry and the turquoise haired form of Nymphadora Tonks.

And then, after a few brief questions and the careful dismissal of the Registry worker, Tonks had dragged him to one side and informed him that he would be joining her at 6pm for a cheering drink at the Three Broomsticks that Tuesday. She would accept no excuse but death.

He had requested a nice eulogy. She had slapped him on the shoulder and warned him there would be penalties if he arrived late.

And thus it was that Remus had determinedly sallied forth through the snow flurries and the ice along the road to Hogsmeade, wrapped up in heavy layers, and feeling more and more fragile with every cautious step and icy lungful of air.

He was not, perhaps, as improved as he’d thought.

He was, in fact, still officially convalescent, at least if Poppy’s shrill protests when she’d caught him crossing the entrance hall to head outside were anything to go by. Breathless, shivery, and still a little unsteady in his footing, Remus couldn’t help but feel that perhaps this venture, so soon after a substantial period of bed rest, was not necessarily a good idea. Perhaps he should have contacted Tonks and delayed the drink for another night.

An image of the rainbow-haired Auror stared sternly at him from the depths of his minds eye. Somehow he suspected Tonks would not have taken “maybe another time” for an answer. She seemed grimly determined to cheer him up.

However miserable it made him.

Remus sighed. That wasn’t fair, not really. It was a nice idea. He could hardly blame Tonks for the weather and his own still precarious health.

And he liked Tonks. The idea of a drink and some time in her company was worth a little trip through the cold.

At least it wasn’t much further.

A warm glow and bubble of noise beckoned from beneath a creaking sign a few yards ahead. At last. The Three Broomsticks.

Carefully sidestepping a patch of ice that glinted by the gleaming light that emanated from his destination, Remus hurriedly pushed back the door and almost tumbled backwards as he was assailed by the fireball blast of heat and light and sound that washed across his half-frozen form from within. Catching his breath sharply, he loosened his scarf and, pulling off his gloves, moved hurriedly and with some relief inside.

Glorious warmth enfolded him from every direction, roaring fires that flared suddenly emerald, chattering figures with warm butterbeer and Madam Rosmerta bustling as always behind the bar. The pub was quieter than one had come to expect of the Three Broomsticks, but given the cold weather, this was perhaps not too great a surprise.

Much to his relief, almost nobody took much note of his entrance. Shrouded in blissful anonymity, Remus unwound his scarf almost completely, leaving only a fold in place to conceal the scars on his neck and made his way on cold and shaky legs in the direction of the bar and the glorious relief of a seat. He had barely hauled himself onto a stool, allowing his cold-stung cheeks to drop into the soothing cloak of his palms as he rested his elbows on the counter, when he was startled from his moment of rest by a loud hail and a friendly slap against his shoulder.

“Wotcher Remus!”

Tonks grinned as she leapt with enviable and most unexpected agility onto the neighbouring stool, brushing ashy remnants of her floo journey from her robes and her forest-green spiky hair. Her grin wavered as she caught a glimpse of the cold-forced flush of her companion’s cheeks and the hint of frost that lingered in his hair.

“Blimey,” she said, her eyes raking over the depths of clothes in which Remus had shrouded himself before darting towards the window. “Is it cold out?”

Remus chose not to dignify the question with a response. He simply glared.

Tonks remained thoroughly unfazed. “I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?” she declared with alarming cheer. “Hey Rosmerta! A couple of butterbeers over here when you’ve got a moment!” She beamed at him heartily. “Never mind, Remus! We’ll soon get you warmed up.”

Remus tried to smile but it was a poor attempt. As the warmth of the room seeped into his bones and stole away the numbness of the cold, he found himself alarmingly shaky. His limbs felt heavy and tired, shaking and shivering with weariness instead of cold, tight tension sent whispers of pain across his forehead and the bridge of his nose, and a pervasive exhaustion had settled over his chest, his lungs sore and tender, his heart a stony weight. The fresh scar tissue across various parts of his body seemed to tug tenderly whenever he shifted in his seat.

Definitely not as improved as he’d thought. Bed rest was a deceptive beast.

Damn Poppy for being right.

A foaming butterbeer plonked down on the counter in front of him. A heart-shaped face peered close, as concerned eyes raked over his now ice-pale pallor and trembling fingers.

“Remus, are you all right?” Tonks asked, her tone abruptly softening into concern as she rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “No offence, but you look awful.”

“I’m fine, really.” The declaration would probably have carried more weight if Remus could have found the requisite energy to raise his head from his hands. “I just need to catch my breath.”

“I think it’s winning the race.” The hand tightened sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, mate, I should have thought! Making you walk all that way when you’re still recovering.” She sighed. “It’s so easy to forget that you can’t floo in or out of Hogwarts or apparate from the grounds.”

Remus shook his head slightly, his face still buried. He still felt too tired to lift it. “I wouldn’t have apparated anyway,” he admitted hoarsely, his voice slightly muffled. “I’m in no mood for a splinch. Few enough parts of my body are working properly at the moment without leaving half of them behind.”

Abruptly he felt his left hand being peeled away, its fingers wrapped securely around the warm handle of the butterbeer mug. A bar of Honeydukes chocolate thunked down on the counter next to it.

“Drink up,” Tonks ordered with mock briskness. “Butterbeer cures most things and chocolate will see to the rest. And don’t worry about walking back – when you’re ready to go, I’ll floo back to my place, grab my broom and give you a lift back by air. Okay?”

Too tired to argue, Remus wearily nodded. With a sigh, he lifted the foaming and admittedly tempting tankard and raised it to his lips.

There was no denying that he did feel better for it. The cosy warmth of the drink seeped down into his tired body, flushing a hint of colour back into his cheeks and furnishing him with the energy to at least sit upright once more. Draining the last dregs of the tankard, he shot his Auror companion a more genuine smile.

“Thanks,” he said sincerely. “I do feel better for that.”

She smiled back. “See? Told you so.” Hailing Rosmerta once more, she indicated for a refill before turning back to her companion with over exaggerated Poppy-like sternness. “Now eat your chocolate,” she ordered, tapping the counter top firmly. “Dr Tonks knows what’s best.”

Remus grinned with false meekness as he accepted his second butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks landlady and lifted the Honeydukes best obediently. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rosmerta lingered a moment, smiling at the pair of them. “It’s nice to see you again, Remus,” she said with genuine sincerity. “I was worried all of these ridiculous newspaper reports would make you nervous to leave the castle.”

Remus gave a wan smile. “Oh, they do,” he admitted frankly. “But she bullied me into it.”

He darted his eyes towards Tonks who blessed him with a cheeky grin. “It was for your own good!” she retorted playfully. “You were stagnating away in that castle. Besides, since you rejoined the wonderful world of employment, I’ve hardly seen hide nor hair of you. And believe it or not, I have missed having you around.”

Madam Rosmerta laughed merrily. “Oh Remus, honestly! I thought better of you than that! Have you been neglecting your poor girlfriend?”

Remus, who had been in the process of gulping down a moderately sized mouthful of butterbeer, abruptly choked. The coughing fit that ensued was deeply impressive, if rather painful to an already sore array of ribs and the steady slap of Tonks’ hand against his back wasn’t helping. He appreciated the sentiment but…

Finally, oxygen flow was restored. Tapping his chest to clear the last of the coughing, Remus finally managed to focus on exactly what had caused the abrupt explosion of his lungs in the first place.

Girlfriend?

He liked Tonks. He liked her very much. She was fun to be around, good company, a surprisingly professional companion for Order business and an excellent friend especially in these difficult times. She had been a rock of support throughout the difficult time following the death of Sirius – her warm manner and gentle sympathy had, he was a little ashamed to admit, surprised him. But girlfriend?

If he was quite honest with himself, the thought had never really crossed his mind. For a fleeting instant, he wondered why not.

“Are you all right?” The green crowned heart-shaped face of Tonks intruded across his vision and jerked his thoughts back into the room. “You went awfully purple there for a moment.”

“Fine.” The gasping nature of the word did not necessarily reassure but at least it was a sign that he had recovered the powers of speech. “I’m fine. I just…” He caught sight of Rosmerta’s smiling face and hurriedly suppressed an appalling urge to blush.

“Sorry about that,” he apologised more coherently, pulling himself upright as he sharply collected himself. “You surprised me there for a moment, that’s all.”

“Surprised you?” Rosmerta’s brow crinkled slightly. “How did I manage that?”

“You said…” Remus caught a glimpse of the raised eyebrow of Tonks and struggled to compose himself sufficiently so that he would not accidentally give offence. “We aren’t a couple, that’s all. We’re just friends and it surprised me when you said…”

Two sets of eyes drilled quizzically into him. Sensibly, Remus managed to halt his lips before they plunged him further into the dangerous quagmire that was looming.

“That’s nice!” Tonks was regarding him with an expression that was difficult to interpret; although her lips curled and her expression twinkled, there was a flash of seriousness in her eyes that came and went so swiftly that Remus was certain it had been his imagination. “Someone suggests me as a potential partner and you nearly choke to death. Note how flattered I am.”

Remus sighed wearily. “You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he stated, dropping his head into his hand as he leaned against the bar. “It’s just… you’re my friend, Tonks. I guess the thought had never occurred to be that someone might take you for anything more.”

Tonks’s sudden grin was abruptly reassuring, although the look in her eyes was still slightly ambigious. “What, I’m not your type?” she teased cheerfully, with a casual swipe at his shoulder.

Remus smiled back, relieved that the awkward moment seemed to be passing without incident. “I’m not sure I even have a type,” he remarked, fingering the chocolate wrapper thoughtfully. He glanced at Rosmerta. “But in all honesty, the possibility of us being a couple has never really crossed my mind.”

The landlady shrugged with a smile. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t be.” She laughed. “I’ve had stranger pairs in here, believe me.”

“You don’t think we look good together?” Tonks planted her green spiky head against Remus’ left shoulder with a broad smile as she hooked her arm around his and winked at them both. “I suppose we aren’t exactly what you’d expect. But if we were playing to stereotypes, I’d be sitting here with the lead singer of the Weird Sisters and the professor here would be having a drink with a librarian.”

Remus glanced sideways and barely avoided a nasty collision between a nearby spike of hair and his eye. “Madam Pince is not my type.”

Tonks shifted her hair. “I thought you didn’t have a type.”

“I have enough of a type to say that.”

Rosmerta laughed again. “Very well, if you insist; friends it is.” She gave a slightly rueful smile. “I suppose it was a bit of wishful thinking on my part. I’ve always thought you could use a nice girl in your life, Remus.”

Remus shrugged, trying to avoid a sudden sense of depression at the mention of his rather non-existent love life as he fingered the edge of his robe absently. Somehow, the romantic life had always passed him by, left alone and out in the cold as those around him found solace in each other. It was not that he had not liked the idea of a wife and children – he did – but the idea had never really seemed to like him.

He had never been an Adonis in the first place, even in his youth; Sirius had held the honours and the lion’s share of female attention in that category, and James’ Quidditch athleticism had meant that he too had rarely been lonely. Even Peter had possessed what he had heard referred to as “a kind of chubby cuteness” that certain types of girl seemed to appreciate. But Remus – slight, pale, unremarkable – had tended to keep thoroughly out of the spotlight. When harbouring such a secret as his, drawing attention to himself would not have been a wise idea, so perhaps a certain ordinariness of appearance had all been for the best.

He had dated, a few times. But most of his relationships tended to stall and peter out under the strain of what Sirius had rather mockingly christened “Moony’s Eternal Question” when he had explained the problem the year before – at what point in a relationship do you tell a girl that you’re a werewolf? At the beginning and risk disdain or worse, widespread exposure? Or later and be branded a liar and deceiver? He had tried both ways and had yet to discover a satisfactory answer. He suspected one didn’t exist.

Sirius had kindly pointed out that most people were aware of his condition now anyway, so what did it matter? Remus had acknowledged this but felt obliged to note that he had hardly been beating the ladies away with a stick ever since.

Not that being single bothered him, really. It just might’ve been nice to have had an alternative.

Of course, Tonks knew he was a werewolf and judging by the grip on her arm, she didn’t seem to be going anywhere. But that wasn’t the point. Whatever conclusions Rosmerta had jumped to, she was just his friend.

He smiled at Rosmerta with rather more cheer than he felt. “So have I,” he answered honestly. “But werewolves aren’t exactly the ideal husband material, and after all this business in the newspapers….”

“Oh don’t be silly!” Rosmerta cut him off sharply. “You’re a good man, Remus Lupin and anyone who knows you will say the same!”

Remus smiled wanly. “I appreciate the sentiment, Rosmerta,” he said with a sigh. “But it’s the people who don’t know me I worry about…”

“Oh Remus, for goodness sake!” Tonks intervened abruptly. “Why do you always assume people are going to turn on you because of what you are?” She grinned wickedly. “Did it not occur to you that maybe they just don’t like you?”

Remus furnished his companion with a long, slow look. “Thanks,” he remarked dryly. “Watch my self esteem shoot through the roof.”

“All part of the service.” Tonks released his arm as she sat back with an expression of deliberate smugness.

“Service? What service?” Remus rested his elbow on the bar as he cupped his chin with one hand and took another swig of butterbeer as Rosmerta disappeared to quieten a hollering drunk at the far end of the bar.

Tonks grabbed her own tankard and matched him. “Why the patented Tonks The Human Pepper-Up Service of course. Guaranteed to improve the mood of even the most committed stoic misery of a professor.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “I want my money back.”

“No refunds.” Tonks swiped a square of chocolate with a cheeky grin. “It’s in the contract.”

“I demand a copy of this contract.” Remus downed the bottom of his second tankard with a gulp. “I want to see the fine print before I get in too deep.”

“It’s a verbal contract.”

“Then get me a pensieve.”

Tonks eyed him for a moment, clearly weighing her options. “Would you accept a written apology?” she inquired hopefully.

“Nope.” Remus fought desperately not to grin as he stared at her with casual indifference. “I want a full refund. In chocolate.”

Tonks gestured indignantly at the open wrapper on the counter. “I already gave you chocolate!”

Remus lifted a broken chunk, examining it with apparent thoughtfulness. “This is medicinal. Refund chocolate is for pleasure.”

“Tell you what,” There was a sudden gleam in Tonks’ eyes that was alarmingly Sirius-like. “I’ll arm-wrestle you for it.”

Remus blinked. Of all possible responses, he had not expected that one.

“Sorry?”

Tonks was grinning manically. “Arm-wrestle!” She plonked her elbow down on the counter and wriggled her fingers madly. “The winner gets chocolate!”

Remus sat up carefully. “Just how much did you have to drink before you came?”

Tonks deigned him with a superior stare. “I will have you know that I am high on nothing but life. Now are you in or not?”

Remus eyed the frantic fingers uncertainly. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Tonks waggled her eyebrows, her eyes gleaming. “Scared, are you?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Not exactly. But it’s hardly a fair competition, Tonks.”

The Auror grinned. “I know, you poor thing. I’ll give you a 5 degree start.”

“In my weakened state?” It was Remus’ turn to grin. “It should be 15 at least. For an Auror to pick on an invalid like me; you should be ashamed of yourself. Ministry brutality at its worst.”

“Spoilsport.” Tonks let her hand drop as a genuine chuckle crossed her lips. “I would have won.”

Remus laughed outright. “I have no doubt. You scare me.”

The gleam revived. “How about something smaller scale?” She extended her right hand, thumb raised. “Thumb war?”

“Oh good grief.” Remus shook his head with a smile. “How old are we?”

“Hopefully not old enough to know better.” She laughed and poked him sharply in the arm. “Come on! Where’s the harm?”

Alarmingly, Remus could not think of a reasonable argument. With an exaggerated sigh, he extended his hand and allowed Tonks to grasp his fingers in the traditional thumb war posture.

With an expression of deliberate over-concentration, Tonks hunched forward and braced herself. Remus on the other hand, remained upright on his stool, desperately trying not to laugh as his companion performed a series of exaggerated thumb exercises.

“Ready?” she asked, apparently when he had decided her thumb was suitably flexed. Remus nodded his consent. “Then three, two, one… GO!”

It should have been no contest. Remus of course had larger hands, a longer thumb and a far superior reach. There was however a factor he had not accounted for.

Tonks’ thumb was changing lengths.

A protest seemed in order. “You’re morphing! That’s unfair!”

Tonks was grimacing with mock concentration as the thumb wrestle intensified.

“You…” she panted. “Have a natural advantage! I’m evening the odds!”

“It gets longer when you attack!”

“I thought you didn’t care anyway!”

“And then you shrink it back when I get close! That’s cheating!”

Tonks grinned as their joined hands twisted with the intensity of battle. “You can’t cheat if there’s no rules, Lupin!”

No rules? Well fine, if that was the way she wanted to play it… He could do no rules.

With an expression of uncharacteristic wickedness, Remus lunged forward with his free hand and tickled her under the armpit.

The effect was suitably dramatic.

Shocked, off balance and with her concentration broken, Nymphadora Tonks squealed, rocked and then tumbled sharply backwards off her stool.

Belatedly, Remus tried to catch her, but it was far too late. Plunging over in a wild flail of limbs, Tonks crashed into the drinker behind her and flung both herself and her unfortunate neighbour to the ground.

Sudden guilt washed over Remus in a rush, sweeping away the warm glow of silliness that had engulfed him. He leapt to his feet at once, grasping the hand of a slightly dazed looking Tonks as he helped her gently upright and set her down on her hurriedly righted stool, his lips half-open with words of apology. Her glare however sharply cut him off.

“You apologise to me, Lupin, and I’ll thump you. I mean it!” She grinned slightly. “I will not have you being sorry for showing daring and innovation in thumb warfare.”

Remus raised his hands with a small smile. “All right, no apology. But I do forfeit the fight. The chocolate is yours.”

Tonks appeared on the verge of protest but Remus had already turned to aid the unfortunate drinker caught up in their display of mutual daftness. The man however had already come to his feet, grabbing at the drink he had fortunately left safe on the bar as he turned.

He was a badly shaven man, scruffy and wild haired, with beady eyes that squinted uncertainly as they fixed upon Remus’ deferent approach. The glass of firewhiskey was grasped in one hand, and the noxious odour that surrounded him implied that it was unlikely to have been his first.

He blinked, one eye twitching slightly as he wove a little on the spot. His eyes narrowed.

“’Ere! You’re ‘im, ain’cha?” The boorish voice echoed loudly across the rafters of the Three Broomsticks. “Ain’cho ‘im?”

Oh no. Ignoring the chill of apprehension that fluttered though his stomach, Remus nonetheless maintained a polite demeanour as the newcomer swayed drunkenly on the spot. Beside him, Tonks had tensed.

“Sir, are you feeling all right?” he inquired carefully, with a slight frown. “Perhaps if you sat down…”

“I don’t wanna sit down!” The man’s voice loudened by several degrees – all around the Three Broomsticks, heads began to turn. “Makes me an easy target, don’t it? Cos’ I know who you are, see! I read the papers! You’re ‘im! You’re that loony werewolf teacher from up at the school!”

A deathly silence fell across the Three Broomsticks.

Rosmerta’s expression was steely and cold. “That’s enough, Fergus,” she ordered, her voice low but filled with the kind of authority that only a landlady on the verge of a chuck out could muster. But Fergus, it seemed, was well beyond stopping. He rocked in a small circle, waving his finger as he sought to focus himself before launching abruptly back into his diatribe.

“I know your game!” he roared, hurling flecks of spittle across a wide radius. “You’re on the wossit…on the prowl, ain’cha? Checking out who looks good chomping when the next mull foon comes round!” He stabbed the air with an emphatic finger. “Now they made all them rules to stop you gettin’ the kiddies, you gotta look elsewhere for your fix! Well, not round ‘ere, says I! Not while Fergus McGinty still stands an’….”

The finger wobbled. The eyes crossed and slowly glazed over. Straight-backed as a plank of wood and emphatic as though pole-axed, Fergus McGinty teetered and toppled backwards on his heels to lie giggling and soaked in firewhiskey as he stared at the ceiling, Remus apparently forgotten. A moment later, he began to snore.

The silence deepened. The stares increased.

And then, with her eyebrows raised, Madam Rosmerta leaned forward and peered down at her erstwhile customer over the counter.

“When he wakes up,” she said matter-of-factly. “He’ll be barred.”
Hiding by Pallas
Part Two – Hiding

But Rosmerta’s words were utterly lost on Remus. All he knew, all he could feel, was the relentless, accusing glare of eyes.

Nobody spoke. Nobody said a word. They didn’t need to. Their eyes said it all.

The light-hearted fun of a moment before had been sucked into oblivion and left only the cold and dark behind. Whatever Rosmerta said, with his drunken exposure by Fergus, he was no longer welcome here.

He had to go.

Pulling his scarf more tightly around his neck, Remus reached for the gloves he had left on the bar. But before he could move more than a step, a hand clamped instantly around his wrist. The dark eyes of Tonks stared up at him with a mixture of confusion and accusation.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she inquired softly.

He was being watched. Eyes everywhere, whispers in the shadows. They were waiting for him to leave. The weight of their distrust almost buckled him.

Hurriedly, anxiously Remus dropped back into his seat and leaned closer to his companion. It was just for a moment. Just so he could explain.

“I can’t stay here, Tonks,” he murmured, his eyes pleading for his wrist’s release. “Not after that…”

The Auror cocked her head thoughtfully. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Fergus the one that just got barred?”

Remus closed his eyes. “Tonks…”

“I’m not going to let you.” The metamorphmagus’s voice was brusque, but there was an unmistakable note of anxiety buried deep inside, a pleading note that shimmered through her voice. “I’m not going to let you run away and hide, Remus Lupin. You’re always doing that and you have to stop. You’re not the problem here and you’ve every right to drink and mess about with a friend in peace. If they don’t like it, sod the lot of them.”

Remus sighed, fingering his scarf uncertainly. “It’s really not that simple…”

“Why is it not?” Remus opened his eyes once more to find Tonks’ stare burying itself into his own. “Remus, how are you supposed to show people how wrong they are if you run off and hide every time some idiot decides to take a pop at you?”

Tearing his eyes away from her gaze, Remus stared absently down at the counter.
“Tonks, perhaps that might have been possible before,” he said, his voice laced with soft bitterness and deep regret. “But everyone here knows what I am, what I can be. The Daily Prophet has made very sure of that.”

Tonks was staring furiously at the ceiling. “But it was rubbish!” she declared from between gritted teeth, fighting to keep her voice to a respectable level to ward off further stares. “Those reporters have their quills stuck up their…”

“Nevertheless,” Remus interrupted quickly before the young Auror chose to get any more graphic. “That doesn’t change the facts.” He lowered his voice. “I am a werewolf. That is the simple fact of my existence. It is a fact that I shall never be able to escape.”

“So why do you keep trying?” Tonks leaned sharply forward. “Why do you keep running away?”

Remus bit his lip. “Because I do not want to be somewhere that I am despised for something that I can in no way help!”

There was a long silence.

The fervour faded from Tonks’ face as she stared at him slowly. Gently, she reached forward and squeezed his hand. Her eyes, green that evening to match her hair, gleamed in the flickering firelight.

“I don’t despise you,” she whispered softly. “I really don’t.”

Remus’ smile, though wan, was also fond. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

Tonks smiled in return, a gentle expression that creased the edges of her cheeks charmingly. “So don’t go.”

Remus stared at her. Nymphadora Tonks was silhouetted by the flickering light of the heath beyond, her green spiked hair glistening like an emerald crown, her eyes dark and intense within the shifting shadows of her face. A metamorphmagus, a walking enigma, forever changing in appearance and yet somehow always managing to remain quite quintessentially Tonks.

And she wanted him to stay. He had spent so many years hiding away, not allowing himself the close friendships of his youth for fear of further heartache and yet now, in the wake of the loss of Sirius, this young woman had stepped up and somehow managed to work her way into his heart. The last of his true childhood companions was gone but true friendship was still in his life, thanks to her blasted determination not to let him wallow.

Or hide away.

She wanted him to stay.

But the eyes still glared. They were waiting.

Slowly, softly, Remus shook his head. “I don’t think I can. I’m sorry.”

To his surprise, Tonks made no protest – she simply reached forward and wrapped both her hands around his. Remus started slightly in surprise as her warm little hands embraced his still chilled fingers but he made no move to pull away. A pair of dark eyes pinned him in place.

“Well, that’s up to you.” She spoke slowly, as though considering every word with care: it made a stark contrast to her usual helter-skelter style of conversation. “But before you go, I’ve something I need to say. Remus, you’re really starting to worry me. You don’t talk anymore.” She shrugged slightly, her shoulders shifting against her robe as she cocked her head and held his gaze. “Okay, you were never exactly a chatty bloke in the first place, but this is different. You’re just keeping everything you think and feel bottled up inside and mate, it’s just not healthy. No one can take that kind of pressure and since Sirius died, I’ve been half waiting for you to blow, to let rip with anger, or sarcasm or tears or something. But you don’t and that kind of scares me because that means the pressure’s still there…” She sighed deeply, chest heaving as her eyes lowered abruptly to gaze down at their joined hands as though to bind them with her stare. “To be honest, that’s kind of the reason I asked you here tonight. I really wanted to you to relax, open up a bit maybe, and even let some steam off. I wasn’t expecting a visit from Fergus the bigoted drunk.” She frowned grimly at the prostrate, snoring figure as she toyed loosely with her companion’s hands, absently stroking her fingers against his knuckles. “I don’t want to butt in if you don’t want me to,” she reiterated hurriedly. “But I can see you going down the same way as Sirius and I don’t think I can stand to watch that again.”

Remus stared at her. “Sirius? What do you mean?”

Tonks met his eyes once more, her gaze intense. “I know you noticed too,” she stated softly, lowering her voice carefully to avoid unfriendly ears. “Sirius and Grimmauld Place – he was going mental in there, prowling around like a caged animal, brooding about Harry and chaffing at being as good as banged up again after all that time he lost in Azkaban. But he never talked about it. He just let the steam build and build until….” Her voice trailed away and she bit her lip.

Remus fought down a cold chill as he remembered the fervour on Sirius’ face that last day, his absolute insistence that he would not be left behind again. Out of Grimmauld Place to help Harry – Remus could see in his eyes that no force on Earth would have made him stay behind. It had been gathering too long inside for him to bear the strain a moment longer.

“He blew,” he whispered softly. “And he died for it.”

Tonks nodded softly. “And I don’t want to see you join him, Remus.” Her grip on his hands tightened almost imperceptibly but to Remus the difference felt vice-like. “I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”

There was a long silence.

The young Auror’s eyes were glistening but she allowed no tears to fall. “I loved Sirius,” she said softly. “He was my cousin and my friend and I wish more than anything that I could have had more time to get to know him. But maybe if he hadn’t tried to deal with all his problems by himself, he might still be here. And I can’t stand to think that the same thing might happen to you. And maybe you hide it better, Remus, but you can’t deny that you’re in pretty dire need of a vent.”
Remus half opened his mouth to respond, but her sharp squeeze of his hands froze the words hovering on his lips.

“No Remus, just let me finish, okay?” she pre-empted him gently. “You’ve been keeping to yourself for months and look what it’s got you.” Leaning forward gently, she pulled down the edge of his scarf to expose the scarred skin underneath. “Scars inside and out that you keep on trying to cover. You’ve got to stop hiding, Remus. You hate confrontations and you hate that people might think badly of you and so you hide from them all so they don’t have the chance. Maybe that’s because you’re afraid of what they might say about you being a werewolf or whatever, but mate – give people a chance. Let them give you a chance. And if they aren’t willing to do that, they aren’t worth knowing.”

Remus cocked an ironic eyebrow. “People like Fergus?”

Tonks ignored him quite deliberately. Carefully she leaned forward, her expression of concern reluctantly forcing away the bitterness of his.

“And Remus – give me a chance,” she said, her voice filled with sudden intensity, her eyes pleading. “You don’t have to hide from me. I know I’m clumsy and a terror to innocent furniture and do daft things with my hair, and I know you said I scare you.” She smiled slightly. “But I want you to understand that if you need to talk to someone, or just want to go out, have some fun and some laughs and forget about the stupid world, you can always, always come to me. Because I’ll always be there. Waiting in the wings with chocolate frogs at the ready and all the butterbeer you can drink without bursting. So come on.” She jostled him slightly, her smile now tentatively crooked. “Tell Auntie Tonks your problems and she’ll see what she can do. I promise you’ll feel better for it.”

Remus stared at her, at the impulsive, wild haired, usually cheerful young woman who was regarding him with such perceptive seriousness and felt a sudden rush of gratitude for her. It had been so long since he had spent time with a friend he could simply talk to, a friend who would listen to his problems and willingly share them; oh, there had been Sirius of course, but considering the burden of grief that had been laid across his shoulders by fate, Remus had not felt it right to inflict him with his own petty-by-comparison concerns. He had forgotten just how much he missed it.

And how much he needed it too.

Her eyes were shining with warmth and life. Her smile was a breath of warm air. Her fingers, wrapped once more around his own, traced gentle patterns against his pale skin.

Cast in patterns of glimmering firelight, her face lingered tantalisingly close. Her lips gleamed as she smiled.

Just a friend?

Against the window, the chill wind howled. It was very cold outside.

And he liked it here. Whatever the glares he received from the locals.

He smiled, gently, tentatively but with considerable affection.

“Where do you want me to start?”

* * *

Midnight chimed. Snow burdened clouds flitted across the gleam of a gibbous moon. The wind howled

“Alohamora!”

With an uncertain creak, the lock holding closed the window to Remus Lupin’s bedchamber sprung open. A gloved hand stretched from snowy skies to pull it wider.

“Careful! It’s a long way down, you know.”

“Yes, thank you Tonks, I can see that.”

“Sarcasm, Professor, is the lowest form of wit.”

“I’d sooner it didn’t get any lower, if you don’t mind. Because it’ll be about six storeys lower if you don’t keep this broom still.”

“Oh, honestly. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“About twenty years in the past. Oh dear Gods, please don’t twitch like that! This isn’t a very big windowsill I’m aiming for and it’s icy!”

“You’ll be fine. That natural werewolf agility and all. Though I must admit you’re the only man I know who can get tipsy on butterbeer alone.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. Why on earth didn’t you just take me to the door like I asked?”

“Where’s the fun in that? Anyway, you said you were knackered. I was trying to save you from all those stairs.”

“Stairs or a plunge to my death. Quite a choice.”

“Oh just get off my broom and stop moaning. Call yourself a Marauder?”

“Okay, I’m serious now. Just hold it steady…”

“Careful!”

“I’m being careful!”

“Grab onto the window frame!”

“I am! Tonks!”

“That was the wind! Not me!”

“Just don’t…I’m almost…there!”

CRASH!

From the darkened, snow swirled skies, Tonks hunched down on her swaying, wind-battered broomstick against the chill bite of the wind and peered slowly into the unlit blackness of the chamber beyond.

“You know,” she commented thoughtfully. “That was a really silly place to put a vase of flowers.”

The brow, dishevelled hair and utterly unimpressed eyes of Remus Lupin appeared slowly from below the windowsill.

“They were a get well present,” he informed her as he rested one hand against the sill and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. “I had to put them somewhere. I’ll admit I didn’t allow for the contingency that they might someday be in the way when I clambered in through my sixth floor bedroom window after a night at the pub.”

“That was short-sighted of you.” Tonks grinned as she hunkered down into the warmth of her makeshift scarf, a rather odd arrangement of her own extremely over-lengthened hair that she had wrapped around her neck for the cold broom ride to Hogwarts. “Aren’t you going to fix it?”

Remus shrugged. “I’ll do it in the morning. I quite honestly can’t be bothered. I’m exhausted.”

Tonks squinted slightly. “No offence mate, but you look it too. I’m sorry I dragged you out.”

Remus shook his head at once. “Don’t be. I had fun.” He smiled rather ruefully. “For the first time in longer than I’d care to admit, as it happens.”

Tonks smiled back. “You certainly did liven up once I got a few butterbeers down you, even if you were flagging a bit by the end. So…” She settled nonchalantly upright on her broom. “You want to do this again sometime when you’re feeling better?”

Remus smiled sincerely. “I’d love to.”

The young Auror beamed. “Excellent! Well then I will see you soon, Professor Lupin.”

The werewolf gave a small mock salute. “See you soon Auror Tonks. Fly safe.”

Tonks blessed with one final cheeky smile. And then, with an exaggerated whoop, she turned her broomstick in the air and vanished into the depths of the howling snowy darkness.

Still smiling to himself, Remus reached over and pulled the window closed. Sidestepping the broken vase, he stumbled across the room and dropped himself with a groan onto his four-poster bed, wearily peeling off his scarf and gloves as he fought to keep his eyes open. A half-hearted flick of his wand brought the bedside lamp to life.

He wasn’t certain he had ever felt this tired. But it had been worth it.

She had been worth it.

He smiled to himself. Nymphadora Tonks. The woman was a menace to herself and those around her, a riot of ever changing looks, a dichotomy of cheerful good nature and perceptive seriousness, the child of a Muggle born wizard and a daughter of one of the oldest and sternest Pureblood houses in the wizarding world. Her life was walking bundle of contrasts and contradictions of personality, of appearance, of blood. Was it truly any wonder she was born a metamorphmagus?

And yet somehow in her fluid world, she still managed to always be completely and utterly herself.

And staying yourself in spite of the changes of the body and the opinions of the world was something that Remus above all others could respect.

And she returned the favour. There was no art beneath her behaviour, there was no hidden nervousness or conscious determination not to judge. She treated his lycanthropy, not with deliberate tolerance or concealed discomfort, but simply as something that he happened to be. Remus Lupin, brown hair, brown eyes, teacher, Order member, werewolf. Not since the days of the Marauders and those brief years of Sirius’ return had any one treated his condition with such easy acceptance, had dared to make light and joke about it, had simply taken him for exactly what he was and not thought twice about it.

He had not realised just how much he had missed it until tonight.

He had not realised just how much he needed it.

How much he needed her.

Remus shook himself sharply. Just a friend, he reminded himself sternly. Nothing more.

Outside, the wind’s cruel howl had heightened to a scream. Ballistic snow rattled the windowpane.

I hope she’s all right out there…

Wearily, he rose to his feet, struggling awkwardly and slightly painfully out of his thick robes and pulled on his pyjamas. The eiderdown beckoned gently, a contrast to the broken vase of flowers that glistened with wet forlornness against the carpet, testing his resolution to wait until he could gather together more energy to make repairs. His wand glinted resentfully against the bedside table – with a sigh, Remus abandoned his brief sojourn into laziness and reached out to pick it up.

“Reparo!”

The vase sprang together with far too much enthusiasm for such a time of night. Stretching awkwardly, Remus made his way over to the damp patch of floor, gathering up the scattered flowers and replacing them in the empty vase once more. A quick spin of his wand refilled the water.

He started to replace the vase on the windowsill. He hesitated.

You know, that was a really silly place to put a vase of flowers…

He smiled to himself, placed the vase carefully out of the way on a nearby chest of drawers and turned to make his way finally towards the blissful oblivion of soft covers and his pillows.

BANG!

Remus jumped violently, spinning on his heel as a frantic hammering against glass followed the heavy impact that had shaken his window so fervently.

A pale familiar face was pressed shivering and desperate against the panes.

Tonks!

Remus was moving instantly, ignoring the wet squelch beneath his feet as he grasped at the heavy window latch and quickly yanked it open.

Cold air struck him in a blast of searing snow followed moments later by the white-washed form it catapulted with it, head over heels in a tumble mass of wild green hair, flapping robes and battered broomstick that thrust him sharply to the ground. The wind howled with triumph as it surged into the chamber, tossing pictures and loose pages with fervent celebration of its invasion. Struggling hurriedly to his feet against the howling gale, Remus flung himself forward, grasping the wildly flapping window. For just a moment it seemed that the wind would prove victorious in this frantic battle of wills; but then Remus found a sudden surge of strength and with a breathless gasp, he slammed the window closed. A moment later, the latch was dropped and the wind expelled at last.

Papers fluttered in gentle spirals towards the floor. A picture tumbled absently from the sideboard. Gasping breaths provided a rhythmic accompaniment to the roar of the storm.

Remus turned.

Tonks lay sprawled and breathing heavily upon the small rug beside his bed. She was caked from head to foot in snow, her robes tangled, her lengthened hair sprayed and twisted across her face and neck like an emerald web. She was shivering madly, her face deathly pale and her lips almost blue. Her broom, lying abandoned at her side, was bent nearly to breaking point.

And then she glanced up at him and to his utter astonishment, smiled.

“Next time you tell me it’s cold out,” she exclaimed from behind chattering teeth. “Trust me, Remus, I’ll believe you.”
Warmth by Pallas
Part Three – Warmth

“Really, you don’t need to fuss. It was just a bit of cold.”

Ignoring the protest with steely resolution, Remus deposited the bundle of blankets he had gathered from the chest at the foot of his bed in a heap on the floor beside the fire and regarded his unexpected guest from beneath raised eyebrows.

“While I’m well used to your interesting collection of hair colours,” he commented dryly. “I’m fairly certain your myriad talents as a metamorphmagus don’t include turning your own lips blue. Now sit yourself down and get warmed up before I change my mind and send you down to Madam Pomfrey after all.”

Tonks’ eyes flared with alarm at the prospect of incarceration in the Hospital Wing – Remus was well aware that due to her tendency towards clumsiness, she had spent nearly as much time as he had in the company of the School Matron during her school days and had absolutely no wish for more.

“I’m fine!” she insisted for what seemed the hundredth time. “Honestly, Remus!”
Remus gave a wry smile. “I’ll believe that when your teeth stop chattering. Now come on, sit down and let’s see if we can get you back to the kind of colour you should be.”

“Yes, professor.” With a slightly resentful sigh, Tonks pulled her borrowed robe tighter around her shivering frame and shuffled with reluctant obedience to deposit herself in one corner of the settee that Remus had insistently dragged closer the fireplace just a few moments before. She accepted his insistence upon swaddling her in blankets with rather better grace, smiling slightly as he wrapped her up tightly in the soft wool and leaned her head back gently but firmly against a carefully positioned cushion. A moment later, a flourish of his wand enlivened the fireplace into a mass of dancing flames, filling the parlour with a swath of heat and light.

Tonks glanced around the suddenly illuminated room with a slightly chattery smile. “You know,” she remarked suddenly. “My mates and I always used to wonder what it was like in the mysterious, off limits world of the Staff Wing of Hogwarts castle. We used to joke about palatial ballrooms, vaulted living rooms painted with dancing murals and gilt gold beds with mother of pearl inlay, soft fluffy eiderdowns and engravings that sang you to sleep. What can I say, we were a poetic lot.” She grinned slightly as her eyes roamed across the dark panelled parlour with its heavy, cluttered desk, the cosy green trimmed sofa and matching armchair and bookshelf crammed with reference material, warm fire crackling beneath a picture lined mantle; to her right was the entrance to the small but neat and orderly bathroom and through the door beyond the fireplace to the bedroom with its sturdy old furniture and reasonable sized four poster bed. “Either you got a raw deal here or we might have been mistaken.”

Remus shared her infectious smile. “Well, I understand that Severus Snape has a Jacuzzi…”

“Oh don’t, please!” Tonks’ mock wince caused Remus to laugh outright. “Professor Snape in swimming trunks is not an image I need running round in my head!”

Remus struggled for a moment before submitting to a bout of sheer wickedness. “Try him in a green dress with a vulture topped hat and a red handbag, if that helps.”

Tonks blinked twice. “You know, you’re damned lucky I‘d heard about that from Hermione and Ron,” she informed him frankly. “Otherwise I’d be backing for the door right now on my way to warn Professor Dumbledore that his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is a very strange man.”

Remus grinned as he reached forward to carefully stoke the fire. “I think he knows. By the way, speaking of clothes…”

“Were we?”

“Jacuzzi, Tonks.”

“Not funny, Remus.”

“Speaking of clothes,” Remus continued doggedly, heedless of the interruption. “Where did you leave your things when you changed?”

“In your bathtub.” Tonks snuggled down more comfortably in her cocoon of blankets. “They were sopping wet anyway. I can do a drying charm on them in a bit.”

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “How’s the robe I lent you?” he inquired. “I know it’s a bit tatty…”

“It’s fine.” Tonks smiled slightly as she fingered one frayed sleeve with a vaguely absent expression. “A bit big on me but one advantage of being a metamorphmagus is that if the clothes don’t fit I can just change my body.”

“I wouldn’t morph too much until you’re warmer.” Remus replaced the poker carefully beside his coalscuttle as he turned to survey the room. “Now, provided I can find my kettle, would you like a cup of tea?”

Tonks gave a grateful nod. “That’d be good, thanks.”

Remus smiled back as he set out to survey his room for the battered old kettle that he knew resided somewhere here about. His slightly less patched and dented kettle was currently living rather out of reach down in his office but he was certain he had another somewhere in his chamber. If not, a nifty bit of transfiguration might be required.

“You should stay close to the fire,” he called back towards his chilled guest. “Although not too close – those blankets are flammable and there’s such a thing as being too warm.”

“Toasty.” Tonks was regarding the glimmering flames before her with a twist of her lip. “You know, you might as well toss my broomstick on the fire too,” she commented ruefully, glancing to where the rather battered shaft of wood had been propped up against a nearby wall. “I reckon it’s a bit buggered, to be honest.”

Remus paused from where he had been rooting around in a large trunk in search of his elusive kettle. “I don’t know,” he replied, glancing back over his shoulder to his friend’s nest on the sofa. “I’ve seen worse than that fly again. James Potter flew his Nimbus 1001 into the side of Gryffindor Tower once and it lived to fly another day – even if it did tend to pull a little to the left when he lost concentration.”

A green head, hair once more shortened to soft spikes, peered with interest over the back of the settee. “Into the side of Gryffindor Tower?” she repeated incredulously. “I thought Harry’s dad was a good flyer. How did he manage that?”

Remus chuckled softly as the memory overtook him. “We’d just won the Quidditch Cup,” he said, a smile of fond reminiscence slipping across his face. “James wanted to make a grand entrance by flying in through the window of the common room after the game and he asked Sirius to go ahead to open the window for him. Unfortunately Sirius got a little…distracted.” The distraction’s name had been Antigone West, the tall and long legged Ravenclaw Keeper and she had rather effectively ensured that her congratulations to one of her Gryffindor rivals had kept him decisively occupied for the crucial minute it had taken for James’ little accident to occur. Remus was quietly convinced to that day that it had been a deliberate act of retribution. Antigone had never been one of James’ biggest fans.

Tonks was grinning. “Let me guess. He never made it.”

Remus nodded with a wry smile. “And James was so busy waving to the crowds still on the ground that by the time he noticed the window was still closed, no braking charm in the world could have saved him. He was lucky that Peter and I managed to get the window open so quickly after it happened or it could have been quite nasty. As it was, the only damage was to his broomstick and his pride.”

Tonks laughed. “That sounds like one of my tricks. At least I can blame the fact I flew into your window on the weather.” Her eyes shifted to the roaring storm that was rattling the chamber windows. “I don’t fancy my chances of getting to Hogsmeade now. Unless you have any great objections, it looks like I’ll be borrowing your settee for the night, mate.”

Remus followed her glance over to the parlour window where the snow was splattering against the glass with forceful abandon. The wind’s howl had risen to a persistent scream that shook the panes within their frames. What had started as a chilly irritation had evolved into a full-blown blizzard.

He smiled slightly. “Well, I’m hardly going to send you out in this after going to all this trouble to warm you up. But don’t get too settled in on the sofa, Tonks. You can have my bed.”

He could see at once that she intended to demur. “Remus, you haven’t been well. I can’t toss a sick man out of his own bedroom…”

“I’m much better.” Remus’ interruption was gentle but firm. “And I’m not the one who got caught in a blizzard tonight. I’ll be fine on the settee, honestly I will. Take the bed, Tonks. No arguments.”

He could see the protests shimmering on the edges of her lips but something about his gaze seemed to quell them. Instead she gave a sigh and then smiled.

“You’re a nice man, Remus Lupin,” she said softly. “Too nice for your own good really.”

Remus smiled back warmly. “You’re probably right. Perhaps I should cultivate a ruthless streak and make you sleep on the hearth rug.”

Tonks’ smile was as bright as the rising sun. “Don’t you dare! I like your obsessive niceness. It’s tragically rare these days.” Her eyes glistened sincerely, her face silhouetted by the fire that burned halo like in the hearth behind her as she stared at him. “I wouldn’t change you for the world.”

Remus met her eyes. He felt himself starting to smile…

A particularly violent gush of wind shook the glass of the window with shocking force, causing both Remus and Tonks to start. Snow battered resentfully against the barrier in an unending stream as the weather screeched out the unrelenting arrival of winter. Swirling whiteness had even obscured the night sky.

Remus shook his head as he stared out into the storm. It was amazing that Tonks had emerged from such conditions with no more than a chill and blue lips. That she had managed to maintain control and a sense of location well enough to find her way to safety was a miracle.

How did she even find her way back to me in this mess?

He glanced over at Tonks, safety snuggled down within warm blankets as she smiled at him once more over the back of the settee and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the roaring cold.

It’s lethal out there. She could have been killed.

And it would have been his fault. Because she wanted to help him. A young life lost for no greater crime than trying to cheer up a friend.

More than just a young life. Tonks’ young life.

She would be dead. Gone forever. She could have been killed.

And that would have killed me too
.

His sudden realisation must have been betrayed by his expression for the smile on Tonks’ face abruptly wilted into a curious frown of concern.

“Remus?” Her voice cut into his horrified introspection, jerking him back from cold desolation into the warmth of the parlour all at once. “What’s the matter?”

“I…” Abruptly Remus found himself at a loss to speak, the words faltering under the power of her dark eyed gaze. He shook his head as much to clear it as in dismissal. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

The frown deepened. “That’s not a nothing face. What were we talking about just an hour or two ago?”

Remus sighed deeply, staring across the room at the vibrant young woman who had stormed so emphatically into such a significant place in his life. She was right. He had promised her. No more hiding.

But how could he possibly articulate a feeling he could barely understand himself?

He settled instead for focussing on simple mechanics. “It’s just – the weather out there is appalling.”

Remus was not sure he had ever crossed paths before which such an expression of desert dry sarcasm.

“No,” she drawled mordantly. “You know what with the howling wind and freezing snow, I hadn’t noticed.”

Remus returned the look with kind. “Very funny. But it just made me wonder – how did you find your way back to my window? It’s not a big target and the weather out there is hardly conducive to carefully aiming.”

Tonks’ expression twisted slightly as she gazed thoughtfully up at the ceiling, her own mind clearly mulling over the closeness of her shave in much the same way as Remus himself had just a few moments before. She sighed.

“Luck,” she stated bluntly. “And the fact that you lied to me.”

The words took a moment to sink in. Remus blinked in sudden shock.

“Pardon?”

Tonks’ expression softened gently into a hint of a smile. “You lied to me,” she repeated gently. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you’d repaired that vase you broke after you told me that were going to leave it until morning.”

Remus frowned slightly. “But what does that possibly have to do with…?”

“It kept you awake.” Tonks’ smile into one of genuine fondness. “And while you were fussing around instead of going to sleep, your bedroom light stayed on. And that light was the only reference point I had. I couldn’t see Hogsmeade, the forest, even Hogwarts castle was gone for goodness sake! All I could see was snow and wind battering my broomstick and occasional glimpses of the lake below me. I couldn’t land, I couldn’t find my way and I thought I was going to freeze to death right there in mid air. But then…” Her eyes gleamed. “I saw a light. Your light. And I knew if I could just get myself over to you, everything would be okay.”

Her eyes met his and held. Neither spoke.

The howling of the wind, the crackling of the fire, seemed to fade into nothingness as the world filled with only the other. And suddenly, subtly, utterly unexpected and yet strangely awaited, the very fabric of their lives seemed to shift.

The silence was eternal.

And then she laughed, deliberately, almost forcefully and the moment broke sharply into shards and tumbled into nothingness. “That must be the first time someone tidying up has saved my life,” she exclaimed with awkward heartiness. “Me, grateful to domesticity. Who would have thought?”

Remus forced himself to smile in return, desperately fighting to hide the sudden pounding of his heart, the roaring in his ears as his blood flowed screaming through his veins that he could barely believe was not audible to the entire of Hogwarts castle. He knew what he was feeling. There was no hiding anymore, no running away, no desperate denial of emotion. One simple moment without a single word and all of his careful illusions had come crashing down.

Just a friend?

Not anymore.

Oh Merlin
.

Feelings he had either been loath to acknowledge or had simply managed to ignore were swelling within him with alarming inescapability. Unable to meet her gaze with suitable neutrality, he turned and busied himself frantically in his briefly postponed search for a kettle.

“I can’t say I’ve ever saved anyone’s life by cleaning up before,” he remarked as casually as he could manage. The words sounded ridiculously forced to his ears but since Tonks made no comment he could only assume he had mastered his suddenly raging emotions rather better than he had believed. “Remus Lupin, domestic saviour. Rescues damsels from raging storms and then sweeps out their fireplaces. Somehow I doubt it’ll catch on.”

He could feel her eyes burning against his skin as he turned to root around absently in a nearby sideboard.

“Remus, what are you doing?” Her voice drifted curiously across the parlour, innocent words that inspired an alarming amount of reaction. Remus glanced up briefly, caught sight of her eyes gazing at him from over the back of his sofa and immediately shifted his stare back to the remarkably unfascinating but emotionally comprehensible cupboard. “Kettle,” he replied rather inarticulately. “You said you wanted a cup of tea earlier.”

He caught Tonks waving a dismissive hand out of the corner of his eye. “If I’d have known it would be this much trouble, I wouldn’t have bothered. Forget the kettle, Remus and come and sit down. If you were tired before, you must be almost on your last legs by now.”

It was true. The exhaustion, a mixture of simple tiredness and post-transformation illness was bone-deep and heavy against his frame but right at the moment, there were few things in life that scared Remus more than the prospect of crossing the room and settling down beside Nymphadora Tonks in front of the fire. It was not the idea did not appeal to him. What frightened him was just how much it did.

I… can’t. She wouldn’t even consider… Librarian and a Weird Sister, remember? And she [i]laughed[/i], she broke the moment, she didn’t want to see what I was seeing, feel what I was feeling. And why would she? I’m a friend to her; it’d ruin our friendship if a word was said and I couldn’t bear… I couldn’t bear…

I couldn’t bear to lose her completely.

Oh Merlin.

It’s just because it’s been so long, so long since I’ve had a good friend, so long since I’ve had... more. I’m making too much of this. It’ll pass. It has to pass. Everything will go back to normal.

It has to
.

His silence must have lingered.

“Remus?”

He jumped violently, bashing his head sharply against the top of the cupboard as he did so. Pain blossomed sharply, a fine distraction from his thoughts – wincing, he withdrew his head with a sigh, rubbing his scalp gingerly as he waited for the sudden pin-sharp ache to subside.

“Are you turning into me or something?”

The proximity of her voice startled him sharply for the second time in a minute. The cool touch of small hands against his tender head sent shockwaves of response the length of his body. He glanced up into the grinning face of a blanket shrouded Tonks.

“Honestly,” she tutted playfully. “I thought I was supposed to be the clumsy one.” Her hands whispered through his hair, her fingertips brushing the skin of his scalp with tantalising gentleness as she examined his head for damage. “Nothing serious, but I need a better look. Come on.”

“What?” Before he could even pause to frame a response, Remus found himself being dragged to his feet and hauled by the hand across the parlour before being unceremoniously deposited on the sofa. The light of the fireplace danced shadows and flames across the upholstery.

A moment later his head had been caught once more in the grasp on small, determined hands. Tonks smiled as she tucked her feet beneath herself and wriggled closer to inspect the damage.

“It doesn’t look too bad.” Her lips were pursed thoughtfully, her breath soft against his forehead as she surveyed the bump with careful eyes. “Slightly red and swelling a bit but nothing more than your average moment-of-clumsiness injury. Believe me, I should know.” A grin leaked across her face. “Good thing it wasn’t anywhere important you bashed, hmmm?”

Almost in spite of himself, Remus found that he was grinning back. “Now you sound like my mother.”

A pair of raised eyebrows gave him pause. “Your mother?”

Remus felt suddenly awkward. “Well, that’s the kind of thing she always used to say when she was patching me up,” he remarked with deliberate lightness. “She still does, as a matter of fact. After every full moon she owls me a bottle of home brewed soothing potion and a silly note. I’m convinced she still pictures me in her mind as about six years old.” He laughed gently. “You just reminded me for a moment, that’s all.” He allowed himself to risk a smile. “That’s a good thing.”

Tonks’ lips quirked into a sideways smile in return. “That’s very sweet Remus, but I’m not sure I want to remind you of your mother. And trust me, I certainly don’t think of you as being six years old.”

Remus was utterly powerless to prevent the flush that stained his cheeks. He silently cursed himself.

She’s just being friendly!

There was a wicked edge to Tonks’ smile now. With a sudden glint gleaming in her eyes, she leaned forward and planted a large, wet kiss on the top of his head.

Remus blinked, desperately fighting a raging storm within himself. “What was that?” he managed at length.

Tonks beamed, her face seeming almost to glow in the flickering firelight, her eyes twinkling merrily as the scarlet that flushed his cheeks deepened noticeably. Her smile was pure innocence.

“I was kissing it better,” she replied. “Did it help?”

“I…” Remus abruptly halted the sentence, not trusting himself to speak. The single word expelled had been alarmingly high pitched. The burn against his cheeks intensified.

Staring at him, the corners of Tonks’ lips curled ever so slowly further upwards. It was clear that she was desperately stifling a fit of the giggles.

“You have got to be,” she remarked, her voice shaky with suppressed laughter, “Without a doubt, the most easy to embarrass man I have ever shared a sofa with. Honestly, nothing more than one chaste kiss and the mildest of innuendos and you’re redder than a Chinese Fireball!”

Remus found himself sharing her near laughter almost desperately. “Well, that’s my dreadful secret out. And there, people go and blame my being single on my lycanthropy.”

Tonks gave in to the laughter that had been threatening to burst free as she leaned forwards on the settee and extended one hand towards her companion. “When of course, it can be blamed entirely upon a faulty set of cheeks.”

Her fingertips brushed, ever so lightly, against the flushed crimson of Remus’ cheek.

Remus froze. His laughter died.

So did hers.

Their eyes met once more.

And this time, Tonks did not laugh.

The space between them seemed to close as though it had never been. Her face – her lips - were a mere breath from his.

All thought, all doubt fled from his mind in an instant. His eyes closing, his actions fuelled by instincts he no longer felt able to repel, Remus felt himself lean forwards to seal the distance closed…

And felt as a hand grasped with desperate force upon his arm, heard a sudden squeal of shock and flailed out suddenly as he felt himself tumbling with jarring painfulness onto the hardness of the floor. A half-moment later, something soft, warm and woolly impacted with breath stealing force against his chest.

Remus opened his eyes. A mass of dark green hair and two dark eyes stared apologetically at him from their position an inch or two above. He could feel a pair of small hands resting against his chest as he stared up into a face washed over by flickering firelight.

“Ummm…” Tonks’ lip twisted slightly. “I lost my balance…”

Remus blinked. “I noticed.”

“It’s a thin sofa.”

“It is a bit.”

“I really couldn’t help it.”

“I understand.”

“I didn’t mean to pull you down too.”

“Of course not.”

“You were the closest thing to grab.”

“But possibly not the most stable.”

“I didn’t have much time to think.”

“I can see that.”

He could feel her weight slumped over him. She made no effort to move. Her eyes remained fixed upon his, burrowing deeply.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was no more than a whisper now.

“No need.” His reply was equally as soft. “It could have been worse.”

“Much worse.” Her breath was a breeze against his lips. “You really are a very nice man, Remus.”

Remus found his own breath hitching. “So you’ve said.”

She smiled slightly, so close now that he was barely even aware of the motion. “Well, I meant it. Very… very… nice…”

And then tentatively, tenderly, she pressed her lips against his.

The kiss lasted barely a second. They stared at one another, eyes searching, questioning, asking, faces less than an inch apart. For a moment, everything was still.

And then her lips touched his once more.

And the rest of the world disappeared.

All Remus knew, all he wanted to know, was the feel of her lips against his, the stroke of her hands against his chest, sliding along his neck before creeping into his hair and the warm sensations that were racing the length of his body and forcing him briefly to wonder why on earth he had been so afraid. After a moment, the kiss deepened and at that point, rational thought became utterly impossible.

He had no idea how long he was lost to the kiss. Frankly he didn’t much care.

But softly, slowly, inevitably, he felt her pulling back. An instant later the kiss was broken.

The silence was long and echoing.

Tonks stared at Remus.

Remus stared at Tonks.

And then Tonks blinked and all at once the world seemed to resume its lazy spin. Her lip twitched slightly as she gazed down at the man still trapped beneath her, her green hair mussed, her blanket shroud dishevelled and her eyes rather dazed. She nonetheless seemed rather quicker to compose herself than her companion.

“Are you going to say anything or am I going to have to?” she asked with an ease that was frankly shocking.

Remus, who was still struggling to gather his thoughts following this seismic shift in the shape of his existence, managed an apologetic glance. “I think it’s going to have to be you. Sorry.”

She shrugged, propping her chin against her palm as she settled one elbow against his chest to support it. “Well then. I suppose the relevant matter at hand is; did that mean a thing to you or is the fact that I’ve accidentally pinned you to the floor all that’s keeping you from running for your life?”

Her matter of fact delivery threw him more than a little. Somehow it wasn’t quite the kind of conversation he’d ever expected to have after sharing a deep and passionate kiss with a young, attractive woman against the floorboards of his parlour.

Not that he’d ever pictured that he would have shared a deep and passionate kiss with a young and attractive woman against the floorboards of his parlour in the first place. Was it any wonder he was having such difficulty engaging his brain?

In spite of her frank tone, Remus realised that a flicker of uncertainty had crept its way into Tonks’ ever changing eyes at the sound of his silence. He hurried at once to reassure her.

“I’ve no intention of running anywhere,” he exclaimed hurriedly. “I…well… we…it was…I liked it. I really did…”

The flicker had not dissipated. “I sense a but coming.”

Remus sighed. “It’s not a but precisely. I just wanted… I need to know… Are you really sure about this? I’m not exactly Witch Weekly’s eligible bachelor of the month and I’m…I’m not an easy proposition, especially for someone who still has so much life and so many prospects ahead of them…”

She cut him off short with a raise of an eyebrow. “I know exactly what you are, Remus,” she informed him, her voice softly stern. “And I am not the kind of girl who will snog a bloke like that unless I’m pretty damn sure it’s what I want. I care about you, I admire you, I enjoy every moment of the time I spend with you and I like you a hell of a lot. There’s even another L word I’d consider using, if not now, then in the near future, if I didn’t think that after only one kiss it would probably blow your mind. So yes, Remus. I’m sure. I’m ready. I just didn’t know until now if you were.” For an instant doubt clouded her eyes. “You are sure, aren’t you?”

Remus smiled. “I’m not the kind of bloke to kiss a girl like that unless I’m sure it’s what I want, you know.”

Her features lit up. “Really?”

“Really.” There was brief pause that allowed for a small affirmation by lip contact. “One thing though.”

She beamed down at him. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you could get off my chest now?”

* * *

The kettle was eventually found hiding behind a pile of textbooks in the corner. Remus was fairly certain that his tea had never tasted so sweet.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the memory of the kiss he had shared with the slowly breathing mass of green locks snuggled comfortably against his shoulder might have somehow sweetened his taste buds. Not to mention the several refreshers that had more recently followed.

Tonks had fervently denied that she was tired enough to go to bed, insisting instead that she wanted to sit with him and “enjoy the moment” for a while longer, in spite of the lateness of the hour. So it was with secret amusement that Remus had watched her eyelids flutter as they fought their losing battle against the pull of gravity, felt her head droop against him, and had quietly but prudently removed the mug from her hands before the inevitable deafening smash and need for a reparo. Settled quietly, tea in hand, watching the dancing flames and listening to the ongoing roar of the gale to which he ironically owed so much, Remus smiled to himself, enjoying the feel of the warm, blanket-wrapped body that was kneading itself a cosy niche against his side.

She looked so peaceful, such a contrast to the frazzle of energy and chatter that usually accompanied her presence, her face serene and lips curled slightly upwards in the smallest of smiles. Gently so as not to wake her, Remus indulged himself for a moment, stroking a finger feather-light down the smooth softness of her cheek, fighting down the slightest flicker of guilt at such an action by reminding himself, with a certain sense of wonder, that this was something he was allowed to do. She had kissed him. She wanted to be with him. And though he did not precisely understand why of all the choices that such a wonderful young woman must have he had somehow emerged so fortunate, he was certainly not going to reject it. After a life so long devoid of such moments, Remus had no intention of wasting this miracle that had somehow tumbled into his life. If there was one thing that the tragedies of his life had taught him, it was not to waste the time he had.

The time they had.

Perhaps he was taking too much on trust. Perhaps come the morning she would have changed her mind.

But somehow, he knew that she wouldn’t.

He smiled to himself.

Fate had not been kind to Remus Lupin over the years. Perhaps the time had finally come for a rebate on his luck.

It was only when he felt the drag against his own eyelids that Remus realised it might be prudent to deal with any necessary relocation while he still had sufficient consciousness left. With as much care and gentleness as he could muster at such an obscene hour of the night, Remus manoeuvred his arms delicately around the sleeping form curled against his side and lifted her up from the sofa.

He was about halfway to the bedroom when he started to regret it.

Although distinctly on the slender side, Remus was no weakling. And Tonks was certainly not especially heavy. But the combination of extreme fatigue and his recent poor health both seemed determined to conspire against his affectionate gesture. It seemed rather disrespectful to hurry but his arms were insisting upon speed quite firmly; praying that no piece of detritus from the wind’s earlier assault would cross his path, Remus rapidly increased his pace.

He successfully avoided an upturned book and a random shoe. He was less fortunate when it came to the rug beside his bed.

There was a certain charm to the expression of sleepy surprise on Tonks’ face when she awoke rather abruptly to find herself buried into the softness of the mattress by the weight of a distinctly embarrassed professor but frankly it was something Remus could have lived without.

“This seems familiar,” she remarked with a yawn.

Remus flushed again. “I was carrying you to the bed and I tripped.”

“Damn. Swept off my feet and I slept through it entirely.” Tonks grinned sleepily. “Good grief. Together less than an hour and we’re already turning into each other. Give us another day or two and you’ll be clattering into that bloody troll’s foot at Grimmauld Place and I’ll start being nice.”

“I happen to think you’re nice already.”

“Shows what you know.” A small hand snaked around the base of his neck, fingertips teasing the edges of his hair as she drew his face towards hers. The kiss was lengthy and deeply indulgent.

But finally, regretfully Remus forced himself to withdraw from her lips, lifting his body gently away from hers to leave her mockingly pouting against the covers.

“Come on, “ he rallied wearily. “Let’s get you comfy. I still need to go and make up the settee and I haven’t much energy left after that.”

Tonks blinked at him as she allowed herself to be manoeuvred beneath the covers. “Make up the settee? What for?”

Remus smiled at her playfully as he reached over to adjust the pillows. “Well as nostalgic as I feel about that spot by the hearth, I don’t really want to sleep there.”

Tonks caught his hand sharply, her eyes abruptly searching. “No, I mean… Why do you need the settee? Why not just stay here?” With her free hand, she gently patted the covers. “With me,” she added softly.

Remus could feel his heartbeat pounding triple time against his eardrums. He fought desperately not to blush.

“Well,” he breathed shakily. “It’s not that the idea doesn’t appeal but… Tonks, I’m still not well, you’re still half frozen and we’re both exhausted. Not to mention it’s a little soon to be thinking about…”

Tonks’ dawning smile dried up his words. “I know,” she said with a certain ruefulness. “It’s not really the right time, is it? But you know, Remus, sharing a bed doesn’t mean we have to do anything.” Her eyes seemed to gleam in the dull light of the glowing bedside lamp. “As you said, I nearly froze to death earlier. I could really use the warmth.”

The freezing gale rattled violently against the windowpane. Snow splattered across the glass.

Remus smiled.

“Just let me put out the lights,” he said.

* * *

Warmth.

He could feel her soft hair as she snuggled down against his chest, arms wrapped gently around his body as she gave a sleepy little sigh of contentment.

“Remus?” Her voice was a breath against his neck.

“Hmmm?”

“Just so that you know… I’d like to try out that stronger L word when you’re ready for it.” He could feel her smile against his skin. “And when you’re not knackered and I’m not frozen… I’m looking forward to finding that right time.”

He pulled her closer, his embrace around her now warm body gentle and glorious all at once.

“So am I, Tonks,” he whispered back. “So am I.”

The chill wind continued to howl against the walls of Hogwarts castle, the battering surge of the cold outside. But warm and snug in each other’s arms, Remus and Tonks no longer heard its roar.

THE END.

A/N [05 Oct]: Apologies for how long this has taken to appear - I submitted it a fortnight ago - but the site appears to be having some problems at the moment. Hopefully things will be better for them soon. :)
This story archived at http://www.mugglenetfanfiction.com/viewstory.php?sid=31300