Serpents, Chapter Five (Part One)

[mrstater]

Title: Serpents (5/?)
Author: MrsTater
Rating & Warnings: R for sexuality
Prompts: weakness; "In the light of Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."
Word Count: 14650 words
Summary: Two years into a relationship with Remus, and the correct way to deal with full moons continues to elude Tonks, dredging up her insecurities and memories of painful past failures. Voldemort's attack on a fellow Order member puts everything into perspective for her...But will Remus see the light?
Author’s Notes: A leap into the future in the Caring For Magical Creatures universe, which I think should stand alone even if you've not read that fic, though the background might make more sense as it's a POA-era R/T romance. This chapter refers specifically to a one-shot written for that ficverse, entitled You Should Know..., which might be background you should know for the flashback.

Finally, the fic lives up to its rating and warning. I cannot thank Godricgal enough for putting up with my whinging as I muddled through this monster of a chapter. All typos and impossibly long, awkward sentences are mine, as it's crunch time and no time for a beta!

Prologue: Judgment Day | 1. Vicious Cycle | 2. Up From the Grave | 3. Between the Woman and the Serpent | 4. In the Waiting Room |

5. What Was and Is and Is To Come

"Can you morph three heads?"

Halfway to a Christmas tree branch with a winged pig ornament made of delicate, rose-coloured glass, Tonks spun around at the unexpected sound of Remus' voice behind her. Not because she hadn't been expecting him to turn up any minute at his New Forest cottage; not even because she hadn't heard the door do an imitation of a screech owl as it swung on its ancient hinges; but because she'd actually heard his soft, slightly hoarse tone over the We Witch You A Merry Christmas programme blaring over the wireless.

For a second, a pig really did fly as the bauble slipped from Tonks' fingers.
As only you could manage, you clumsy great oaf, without even morphing all thumbs and no fingers. Luckily for her, Remus had all the coordination she lacked, swept his arm out in front like he was part of a bloody ballet, and hooked the gold thread loop with his index finger.

"Shite, Remus! Why'd you sneak up on me like that? Were you trying to make me shatter my favourite Christmas ornament into a million tiny pieces no Reparo in the world, not even done by Molly Weasley, with the help of all the king's horses and all the king's men, could put back together again?"

Dangling the miniature flying pig in front of her face, Remus smirked. "Happy Christmas to you, too."

Tonks shot him a mock glare as she snatched her pig from the git and turned back to the tree. Over her shoulder, she said, "What the hell kind of question was that, anyway? Can I morph three heads?"

"That's what I asked," Remus replied cheerfully, pulling off his gloves and tossing them onto the coffee table, then setting to work on the buttons of his overcoat.

"Why do you want to know? Idle curiosity? Or is Dumbledore planning to send me undercover to recruit Order members from the Catriplus Mortalis tribe of Papua New Guinea?"

Remus grinned as he draped his coat over the back of a battered wing-backed chair. Tonks smiled back before turning to admire the way her pig ornament, which he'd had given her two Christmases ago, caught the fairy lights and shimmered. It almost looked as if it really were zipping about through the boughs of the Christmas tree.

"Actually," he said, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet as he ambled up behind her, "I just wondered how you managed to wear so many hats: Auror by day, Order member by night, Santa's Little Helper in between..."

He slipped his arms around her waist, bending to rest his chin on her shoulder. She squirmed, ticklish, when his lips brushed the sensitive spot where her jaw met her ear, and again when he chuckled softly into her neck, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise with a shiver.

"That's a fantastic idea about the Catriplus Mortali, though," he said. "Think how constantly vigilant three-headed Order members would be."

"Even Mad-Eye couldn't complain."

"Precisely. Who do we contact about them? The Quibbler?"

Tonks turned in his arms, pushing him slightly away from her as her hands flew to her hips in a playfully imposing stance. "That came right out of my own head, thank you very much, Mister Cleverer Than Thou."

Remus held up his hands, palms out, in a gesture of surrender, which he rather undermined by laughing and saying, "Have I ever told you that you're terribly cute when you're feisty?"

"Shall I try morphing two more heads for thrice the feistiness?"

"Would that be considered a ménage à trois?"

"Three heads plus one Remus equals ménage à quatre, last I checked."

Remus' eyebrow hitched upward. "You checked?"

With a shrug, Tonks Summoned another bauble from the few remaining ones spread out on the coffee table. "I do have a little something planned for tonight." She darted her eyes sidelong at him -- suggestively, she hoped -- as she found a bare branch for the ornament.

"A little..." Remus' voice sounded a bit pinched, as if his collar were done up too tight. Which it wasn't. The top button was undone, revealing a tantalising bit of his slender neck, which Tonks made a mental note to spend a good deal of time kissing later. "A little...morphing...planned for tonight?"

Tonks bit her lip to suppress a giggle, but when she glanced at him again and saw that his eyes were wide and bright above pink cheeks, and that his fingers were squeezing the long hair at his nape, she didn't quite manage to keep the quaver out of her voice as she replied, "Yeah."

"Interesting," said Remus.

Tonks' eyes followed the trail of his Adam's apple down his throat.

"Right, well..." He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "Why don't you stick with your original plan, and save the ménage à quatre -- or trois, I'm not really particular -- for some other time?"

"Why?" Tonks flicked her wand and sent the remainder of the ornaments onto the tree; not all of them quite made it. Cringing, she continued with her original train of thought, although now with a degree amount of irony. "Cos you like what I do when left to my own devices?"

She expected Remus to laugh at her, to crack a joke as he cast a Reparo on the broken baubles and then hung them delicately on the tree with one of his useful little spells. He did none of the above, but instead looked all around his shabby living room, which she'd decked out with Conjured red and green paper chains, and sprigs of holly clipped from the shrubs in the garden. More like pricked your fingers within an inch of their lives!

The room looked exactly like it had looked the previous two Christmases -- Tonks had seen to that, keen to hold as tightly to tradition as possible, even though Order duties had kept Remus from spending the day here with her, decorating together. If the look in his face, so boyish, every line on his face the result of his smile, then she'd got it just about right.

"I feel as if I've stepped into the Christmas issue of Witch Weekly," he said. "You've made the old place look really lovely."

"Flatterer," Tonks chided, though her grin stretched from ear to ear.

"No, really," he said. "We ought to take photographs and submit them to the magazine." He'd moved alongside the Christmas tree as he spoke, and now surreptitiously (or so he thought), held his wand at his side and flicked it to mend the shattered baubles. "And I love the jumper you approved for me."

Tonks noticed his clothes for the first time, a rich royal blue jumper that matched the colour of his eyes exactly, and somehow managed to make his old, threadbare trousers which barely qualified as brown anymore seem less tired.

But she couldn't tell him how handsome he looked, could she, when he was standing there like a total git with a half-smirk playing on his lips that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking about him?

"Molly wasn't kidding about you swapping Ron for the maroon." She moved toward him and tugged at the voluminous knitted fabric bagging at his sides. "Bloody two of Ron could fit in here -- with you!"

"Now, now." Remus caught her hands and gently prised them off of his clothing. "Let's steer clear of the realm of ménage á jumpers, shall we?"

Rolling her eyes, Tonks said, "I just don't want you thinking that jumper's an example of my taste. I approved the colour, but if Molly had asked me, I'd have told her to take it in a bit..." She slid her hands around him, gathering the excess jumper at the small of his back and pulling the hem up higher above his hips. "...show off your lovely trim waist...and your nice chest..."

"What about your waist and chest, then?"

Tonks looked up at him. "What about them?"

Remus' hands re-enacted what she'd done earlier, tugging at the sides of her baggy jumper. "Molly made your Christmas jumper a bit oversized, as well. Or is that to accommodate you in case you decide you'd like to be a foot taller one day?"

"Or a foot shorter, so it can be a proper dress?" Tonks quipped, turning and waggling her posterior, clad in red and white leggings, stripy like peppermint sticks, which the white jumper, emblazoned with a great red T (Not an N, thank Merlin! Molly must really like you.) didn't quite cover. "Sweater dresses are right hip now, you know. It's the 90s, haven't you heard?"

"I think I did hear something about that, yes." Remus cocked his head to one side, and made a show of trailing his eyes up and down over the half of her body south of her waist. "That right hip sweater dress might not show off your waist and chest, but you won't hear me complaining about what it does for your bottom and legs."

"Actually, that'd be the leggings," Tonks said, ceasing her wiggling and turning to face him again. "Which brings us back to your jumper."

"What about it?"

"Maybe I ought to have got you leggings for Christmas."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Now you've ruined the surprise. It would have been nice, when shaking my presents, to wonder, Maybe Tonks has got me a pair of leggings to go with my new Molly Weasley jumper." He shook his head ruefully as he bent to retrieve the Reparoed baubles from the floor and hang them carefully on the tree. "But now the possibilities are somewhat limited."

Tonks stared. "You are a very strange man."

"That is very true. Which means I know a strange woman when I see her, and you are very strange indeed for not considering the possibility that Molly made my jumper too large because she wanted to help you put Hestia off of me."

"Why would I need Molly's help?" Indignantly, Tonks snatched a bauble from Remus. "That's the fourth hat I wear, you know: Prankista Extraordinaire, the Perfect Match for a Marauder."

Remus watched her hang the ornament, eyeing the spot she'd chosen critically. "Does that mean you've thought of a prank, O Prankista Extraordinaire? Fantastic word coinage, by the way."

"Thanks. And yes -- I’m thinking a letter, since I'm very good at writing fake letters--"

"--you are, indeed."

"Only I'll need you to write it, cos I can't get my writing to look blokey."

"That sounds like a prank I might be persuaded to join in -- although it seems you're probably wanting this to be a love letter?"

"Secret admirer, requesting a tryst," Tonks explained. "I'll provide the words, all I need from you is the handwriting."

"All right," said Remus, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets and turning to face her. "Who's Hestia's secret admirer?"

"Snape."

"But you intend to misdirect her?"

Tonks nodded.

"Or rather -- Remusdirect her?"

When Tonks nodded again, and saw Remus beginning to waver, she stepped into him, and pressed her hands against his chest, curling her fingers over the fabric of his jumper. "Please, Remus? I know you can't resist a chance to get a rise out of Snape."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't." Sliding her hands up over the gentle rise of his chest, Tonks rose up on his toes and kissed his throat. "Not any more than you can resist kissing me after I've kissed you right there."

Even as Remus dipped his head to meet her lips with his, he murmured, "You've just linked yourself to Severus Snape with the term irresistible."

Between kisses, Tonks replied, "I think that's the least horrifying of all the horrifying things that have been said since you got here."

"Which is highly disturbing..."

His words trailed away as his lips melted into hers. His hands had been resting on her hips, but now one slid round to her back, gliding down over her bottom briefly before his fingers found the hem of her jumper, slipped inside, and skirted up again over her back, warming her with his touch. When his fingers brushed over the edges of her shoulder blades, he drew in a sharp breath against Tonks' lips, which had curled upward in a smile.

She wasn't wearing a bra.

Tightening his arm around her, his other hand, still outside her jumper, slid between their bodies, curving lightly over her breast. Tonks gave a little moan, and Remus responded with a low sound of his own before pulling his mouth from hers. He trailed soft, nibbling kisses over her cheekbone as he rubbed his slightly prickly cheek against hers.

"Let's forget about Snape and Hestia," he said, huskily in her ear, "and anyone who isn't you or me..."

"Good idea." Tonks turned her head so that she could kiss his jaw...or some part of his face. With his hand in her shirt like that, brushing the side of her breast, it was hard to be sure of what, exactly, she was doing.

"...and you can show me that morphing thing you've got planned, since I thought it sounded rather more sexy than horrifying."

Tonks leaned back against his thankfully firm, steady arm around her waist to look him in the eyes -- which she was delighted to see had gone hazy grey-blue -- and raised an eyebrow at him.

"What makes you so sure?"

For just a second, Remus' eyebrows pressed together, forehead dimpling in between, in a look of confusion that was absolutely adorable because Remus seldom missed a train of thought. Then, eyes brightening as the lusty look cleared slightly, he said, "I told you already."

Now it was Tonks who looked confused, and she hoped Remus thought it was endearing as she'd found the look on his face, rather than that she was a tad naïve or worse, slow. "Told me what?"

"That I like what you do when left to your own devices." His hand drifted from her breast, skimming her chest and neck, to cup her face, fingers raking back into her hair. "Even if you did morph three heads, if they all looked like yours, you'd still be dead sexy."

"Do you really want to test me on that?"

Eyes gleaming mischievously, he said, "I must confess a burning curiosity to know if you could give each one a different hair colour."

Don’t you dare admit it now he's gone on about it, but you've got a flicker of interest yourself to know if you could do it. He might say he'd like to know, but no man really wants to see his girlfriend do her best imitation of Cerberus.

Forcing herself to step back from him, slipping out of the cradle of his arms, Tonks flicked her hair over her shoulder and said, "It's a good job you're not a cat, cos you're just going to have to stay curious a while longer. Right now we've got traditions to see to."

She pointed her wand at the sitting room doorway where, directly opposite across the narrow corridor with the even narrower staircase that led to the bedrooms, the kitchen glowed with lamplight.

"Accio sausage rolls. What?" She narrowly avoided spilling the lot of them when she caught the tarnished silver tray she'd arranged them on off-balance, distracted by a peculiar, lopsided grin flashing on Remus' face. "Don't tell me you've suddenly gone and decided sausage rolls aren't a proper supper."

They always ate sausage rolls whilst on holiday here, since that first Christmas when Remus had insisted they stop at the Rose and Crown in Brockenhurst for the best sausage rolls she would ever sample. Not to mention it spared either of them having to attempt cooking supper on Christmas Eve or breakfast the following morning, as the sausage rolls were just as delicious warmed up and convenient to munch on as they opened pressies.

Despite Remus' claims of their delectableness, Tonks had spent a good part of that first Christmas Eve together refusing to try one, convinced he was taking the mickey out of her about her Patronus, which she'd shown him when he mentioned the new term bringing private Defence lessons with Harry Potter. Of course he had been teasing her -- as a series of pig-themed gifts followed. But he hadn't been kidding about these being the best damn sausage rolls she'd ever had.

Looking almost offended at her suggestion, Remus said, "When pigs fly!" then Summoned his coat from the back of the arm chair, delved into the pocket, and drew out a slightly greasy paper sack. "Only I thought since you were Flooing here, you mightn't bother going down up to the village, so I popped in myself."

Tonks laughed. "Too bad this isn't Christmas Eve -- then we'd have enough for Christmas dinner, as well, and wouldn't have to venture out to the village for lunch."

Remus chuckled quietly, but Tonks noticed, as they curled up on the sofa together, his arm stretched along the back of the settee behind her and the tray of sausage rolls balanced on his knee, that his smile was laced with regret as he looked around the living room again. "I'm sorry we couldn't manage to make it down last night, and that I couldn't be a part of all our traditions today."

"I missed you," Tonks admitted, snuggling closer into the crook of his arm and resting her head on his shoulder, "but I'm just glad we were able to get some time together on Christmas Day at all."

She felt his lips brush the top of her head as she popped a sausage roll into her mouth.

"It's quite a Christmas miracle, really," she went on when she'd swallowed, "that I got the day off and Dumbledore didn't have you Apparating all over Britain after everything that's happened this week."

They'd been up to their ears since the attack on Arthur: Remus tracking down every lead, no matter how small or unlikely, about Voldemort's whereabouts; she working to implement new security measures at the Ministry, not to mention a bit of hairy work with Emmeline Vance, an Obliviator, to implant the real Eugenia Scrubb's memory with an altered version of her own of finding Arthur bleeding in a lift, calling for help, and the ensuing interview with Amos Diggory. Tonks was glad to be able to serve the Order of the Phoenix with her unique skill set, but bloody Merlin's beard! -- that sort of undercover work made her brain want to explode.

"That's very true," said Remus, but with a tightness in his voice, even as his fingertips stroked her shoulder, that told Tonks he wasn't completely reassured that she didn't mind -- or was willing to deal with, at any rate -- the Order coming before them.

"I managed the decorating," Tonks said, "and I'm sure Molly and the kids couldn't have got along without you."

"Percy sent back his jumper."

A shock of pain gripped Tonks' heart, which she immediately shoved aside because she didn't want to think about sad things like broken families tonight -- but not before she vowed to do something nice for Molly, and be sure to wear her Weasley jumper often, around Molly and to work, too. Maybe Remus knew a useful little spell could put on it that would make Percy's conscience -- if the miserable little prick had even had one -- well, literally prick.

"How's Arthur?" she asked.

"Still bleeding, though he didn't help himself by letting a trainee healer try Muggle medicine on him. Which I suppose is a very good sign that he's feeling like himself again."

"How do Muggles stop bleeding?" Tonks asked, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him.

Remus, having just reached for a sausage roll, looked a little peaky and replaced it on the tray. "They sew the wound together. With a needle and thread."

Tonks' mouth fell open, and she barely overcame her shock enough to stop a bit of sausage roll falling out. She choked a little when she swallowed it too hard. "Blimey! Is he okay?"

"I think the scolding he got from Molly was worse."

"I'll bet you had your work cut out for you, getting her calmed down."

Remus looked away, fringe falling over his forehead, and grinned sheepishly. "Not at all. I, like everyone else, tactfully walked away..."

She could just picture Remus shoving his hands in his pockets and turning away, hiding a half-embarrassed, half-amused look as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley began to row. "Decided it was the perfect time to stroll across the ward and speak to that bloke...?"

Tonks topped short of saying, that bloke who was turned into a werewolf or even that bloke who was bitten, and hoped, for once, that Remus was reading her mind and knew who she meant.

You're as bad as Molly Weasley, Tonks, knowing a werewolf yourself, and yet still being afraid of all the other ones. Worse, even, because you know Remus better than anyone. You've seen him as a werewolf. You've seen him after transformation, weak and ravaged. Yet you still don't really believe it.

Remus nodded, then, with rather suspect timing, ate a sausage roll. Tonks gave him the benefit of the doubt as he chewed. After he swallowed she waited another moment for him to say more, to tell her about his conversation with the man. But he said nothing; instead, he looked at her with one eyebrow slightly raised, as if to ask why she was looking at him with expectation.

Though Tonks had seen this look often enough to know it meant Remus was not inviting her to pursue a topic further, she asked, "Good chat?" For Molly, despite her reservations about a werewolf sleeping just a few yards from her husband, had enough compassion to tell Tonks what Arthur had said to the unfortunate man about knowing a werewolf who found his condition quite easy to manage, and thought Remus might like to encourage him, possibly recruit him for the Order of the Phoenix.

Tonks had latched onto the bit about manageability, even though she was experienced enough to know there was nothing easy about it. In light of how far they'd come lately, with him opening up to her a little more about his condition, and the dependency on her he'd displayed the night Arthur was attacked, she'd harboured an image of Remus sitting down beside that bloke's bed and telling him that becoming a werewolf wasn’t the end of the world, that there were who didn't care what you turned into one night a month, and that he had a girlfriend he was very much in love with, who wanted to be with him no matter what, who gave him something to fight for, the hope of a future...

"I think he does not quite believe," Remus' voice rasped quietly into her daydream, "much less comprehend..."

His face was drawn, and his eyes seemed to be looking someplace far away -- maybe even deep within himself, Tonks thought, out of nowhere, and felt a little frightened.

He didn't open up to you as much as you thought. He's still holding back--

No! He's not! Have a little faith!

But Remus gave his head a little shake, and he sat up straighter, squeezed her shoulder, as if he were shrugging off a stupor.

"I'm sorry," he said, with an apologetic smile. "This isn't very merry Christmas talk, and I haven't asked about your day. How were your family?"

Of course he couldn't say all that, Tonks told herself firmly, as though Banishing the deep disappointment that tried to clutch hold of her heart. He was all over the Prophet after he resigned from Hogwarts. That bloke might have recognised. Your cover would've been blown. He was protecting you.

And don't you dare go there! You may not think you need protection, but you're protective of him, too. Whose name were you biting your tongue not to say during Christmas lunch at your parents'?

"They were...my family," Tonks told him. "Mum kept asking when I was ever going to bring a bloke home of Christmas. Dad said I'm not allowed to bring a bloke home at any time till I'm thirty-five." Forcing jokiness into her voice, she added, "I wanted to ask if going home to a thirty-five-year-old bloke was enough of a compromise."

Remus smiled, and Tonks caught her breath. Had he caught that word: home? Did he have any inkling that when she heard "I'll Be Home For Christmas" playing in the shops as she bought his presents, that the image that rose to her mind was of Remus' family cottage nestled in the New Forest, not her parents' house in the London suburbs? Had it occurred to him that she might like this to be her home for always, not just for holidays?

There was an awful panic-filled moment of fearing he did know, and didn't like it, when he broke eye contact with her to move the tray of sausage rolls onto the coffee table. But then her heart caught in her throat and pounded furiously as he turned back to her, eyes deeper blue, smile a little softer, a little more tenderly, and shifted closer to her, cupping her face in his palm.

"I'm glad you came home to a thirty-five-year-old bloke, too," he said, and leaned into her for a kiss. "Merry Christmas, Elphine..."

Her own Merry Christmas was reduced to a sighed mmmm as their lips touched, but she felt Remus smile as he kissed her, as well as the soft laughter rumbling in his throat, and knew he'd got the message and was having a very merry Christmas, indeed.

A merry little Christmas, she amended, noticing a sultry alto crooning the very words over the wireless.

...Let your heart be light
From now on
Our troubles will be out of sight...

No effort was required on Tonks' part to let her heart be light as Remus' lips moved over hers. The only things in her sight were Remus' thumb moving lightly back and forth over her cheek; his light blond eyelashes closed against his pale skin; the Christmas tree, over his shoulder, twinkling with fairy lights which seemed determined to outshine the roaring fire and bathe the cottage in a brilliant, shimmering golden glow. The shabby sitting room, she thought, with its peeling whitewashed walls and faded upholstery looked richer for its lived-in hominess than she imagined mouldy Grimmauld Place ever could have done, even in its glory days, before its mistress had wasted away with her own bitterness which lingered yet and gnawed bit by bit on the fragile soul of the new master of the house.

Yet, as the meeting and parting of her lips with Remus', the ebb and flow of the kiss buoyed her ever higher, as if on a rising tide, not even that grim turn of thought could pull her spirit into the undertow of reality. It was Christmas Day in the House of Black, as well as here, and Sirius had changed this week, with Harry's advent. He had his godson, and a house full of Weasleys who had been blessed with the Christmas miracle of life.

And she herself had somehow managed not to be slated for duty of any kind for two days. Yes, she was on call both days, but so far, so good; in the light of the Christmas tree, with a song swirling through the cottage, snaking into her soul and, not least of all, with Remus kissing her unhurriedly, without any indication either of soon stopping or taking them to the next level, his hands touching her face in a way that was wholly different to the last time they'd managed to be alone together -- when he'd clutched her to him with trembling hands and shuddering body as if he were terrified it might be the last time -- it seemed impossible that the trouble that had lately been always at their heels, could be anywhere other than miles and miles away from them.

Bit closer than that, Tonks, and you know it, whispered her annoying inner voice. The reason his eyelashes are standing out so much right now is because there's purplish circles beginning under his eyes. It's only a week till full moon. The best Christmas present he could have would be a week's dose of Wolfsbane Potion.

In an act of rebellion against the voice she really didn't want to hear right now, she caught Remus' face in her hands and kissed him more intently, raking her teeth over his lower lip in the way he liked, which coaxed a low sound of approval and a little more passion from him in return. The waxing moon could not be touching him yet; the hints of fatigue were just the residue of his daily battle to keep Sirius from unravelling like the family tapestry and from being Molly Weasley's rock in the midst of all his Order duties, all of which had carried on in a month that had been ushered in by the cruel Oak Moon. As the song said, the past was past, and the future far away. But

Christmas present is here today
Bringing joy that may last

Without doubt, joy was the emotion that bubbled up inside her as her fingers slid back into his hair, the soft strands sliding between them before they laced together behind his neck. When Remus' lips moved against hers not to kiss her, but to say, "Here you are," as he helped her situate her legs around his waist, she realised she'd moved onto his lap.

Yes, here she was, here they were

...as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore...

It seemed strange that she'd spent only a handful of days here, with Remus, in his home, because all of them had been the sort of days that would never fade from her memory, no matter how many days... months... years were in store for her. Remus' home, and his arms around her in it, had come to be a shelter to her as much as the old air raid shelter in the back garden.

When she'd doubted her capacity to make it through her third year of training and qualify for Auror, she had only to look back on that first Christmas with him, when she'd trusted Remus so completely to guide her across that final threshold from girlhood into womanhood, and know that she could believe that man when he said she was more than able.

When things had gone pear-shaped for them the year after, forcing them to hide, their second Christmas here had represented freedom from the lies she told day in and day out. When she worried that the months of unemployment, the loss of civil rights, and the injustice of his best mate's fugitive status, would be too much for Remus, she remembered how he had made even merrier the Christmas after his resignation from Hogwarts than he had the year he'd worked there.

Next year, she hoped, leaning further into him as yearning ripped through her for a deeper kiss, which he sensed and obliged her with, she would look back upon this Christmas as a golden refuge in the midst of the ever-encroaching darkness. And if everything played out as she'd begun to dream it would, then this Christmas would promise every Christmas after, and would hang as a shining star upon the highest bough.

...And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

Yes -- now. She couldn't wait any longer. Though Remus' hands were on her hips, pressing them down into his, leaving her in no doubt of what would give him a merry little Christmas right now, she gave him one quick, unquestioningly last, kiss, then pulled away.

"I want to open my pressies."

Remus opened his eyes slowly, and looked a bit bewildered. Which she reckoned was completely natural for a bloke who'd clearly been expecting this to lead to Merry Christmas sex.

You ought to have kept going with that, Tonks. He's not thinking the same as you, that your Merry Christmas sex ought to do double duty as celebration sex.

Wasn't he, though? He'd been kissing her at leisure, without a real sense of direction, till she had got carried away by the romance of the setting and her own daydreams and kicked things up a notch.

But if he was thinking the same as you, wouldn't he be taking the lead, guiding you toward a grand scheme of his? Only he always assumes the traditional male roles, which you're more than willing to let him do, and nothing tonight's been like Remus with a plan. Remember how carefully he plotted things out the first time he brought you here?

The first time he brought you here, Tonks argued with herself, he wasn't doing Order duty.

No, but he was working a full-time teaching job, planning private lessons with Harry, and wringing his hands what to do with that information about Sirius being an Animagus--

Remus leant into her suddenly, and kissed the tip of her nose. When he drew back, he wore his lopsided boyish grin and his customary expression that was at once alert and relaxed. "Presents sound like a very fine idea."

"I think so," Tonks said, disengaging her arms from around his neck and placing her hands on the sofa cushions to scoot back from his lap -- but Remus' hands kept hold of her hips, and his gleaming eyes held hers.

"Mainly because then we get to thank each other for our gifts."

Tonks couldn't help giggling as she inwardly crowed, You see? He's got a plan -- and a present guaranteed to result in Merry Christmas-thank you-celebration sex.

"Talking of presents," said Remus as they got up from the sofa, "the model Firebolt you got Harry was a smashing success."

"Thank Merlin," said Tonks as she tossed a couple of cushions onto the floor by the Christmas tree so that they could recline comfortably, or lean against the stone hearth. "I couldn't think of anything better, but I was afraid it might make him feel like a prat about being kicked off the team."

"Not at all." Remus fished in his coat pocket, took out a few miniature gifts wrapped in shiny foil paper, then enlarged them. "In fact, Fred and George complained very loudly that you overlooked them--"

"I sent them notes that I wanted to be a shareholder in their sodding joke shop when they get it off the ground!"

"--before deciding to put your investment toward a product line called Common Room Quidditch -- So You Don't Feel Like a Prat For Not Making Your House Team."

Tonks threw back her head and laughed -- and very nearly threw herself on the floor as she'd chosen that moment to plop down on the hearthrug and was thrown off-balance. "Now there's an appropriate product line for me to have financed!"

"Of course," said Remus, striding across the room bearing three gifts -- one of them quite small, and exactly the shape to make her heart leap, and quicken, as her breath became shallow, which left her feeling a little light-headed, "being a complete gentleman, I made no comment of the sort."

"Not even for cover," Tonks teased, "so no one'll suspect we're secret lovers?"

Remus rolled his eyes as he bent to arrange her gifts under the tree among his -- of which there were also three, which pleased Tonks immensely, having anticipated what he would be able to do for her on his limited funds.

Since Remus' resignation, presents had been a touchy subject -- for her, at least. Beyond a simple, I'm sorry it's not up to last year's standard the Christmas before this, to which she'd responded, Not at all, Remus had never given any indication whatsoever that his lack of income created any real dilemma for him at gift-giving times. He seemed quite pleased with his offerings, which, if thriftier (certainly in comparison to the oddly exquisite pig broach, done in pink garnets, which she suspected he'd had custom made for her), had been just as heartfelt as the year before. Maybe even more so, as they included the extra personal touch of his creativity and imagination. Like the pink ceramic piggy bank, hand-painted with flowers and flourishes in a rainbow of colours -- hand-painted by him because, The one I modelled it after was a very plain blue pattern on a white background, and not nearly enough colour to represent the Patronus of Nymphadora Tonks. Which had earned him a, Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus! and some very nice thank-you sex, if she did say so herself.

It had always been at the back of her mind, though, that Remus might have been compelled to copy a knick-knack he'd seen in a shop because it had been beyond his means. She wondered, too, if deep down, though his mild expression never remotely gave him away, it troubled Remus that the loss of his job meant a comedown -- not that she saw it that way -- in their relationship, as well. Only she couldn't forget the look of sheer delight on his face as he'd watched her open gift after gift that first Christmas. It had given her the most adorable image of him browsing the shelves of every shop in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, plonking down Galleons for whatever item struck him as her, and returning to his rooms at the school with his pockets stuffed with parcels and later spreading them out on his desk to wrap, looking right chuffed with himself.

None of which you fully appreciated till he made that apology, and you suddenly realised you were faced with the dilemma of how in bloody hell to buy him gifts that didn't show him up, or make him feel like you were offering him handouts.

Granted, he'd made it a little easier on her by starting the tradition of her Runic charm bracelet, though she almost would rather he wouldn't have, as he could ill-afford it. But of course she couldn't say that, without wounding his pride. Which she refused to do, because it was one of the only things he had left, and she intended to see to it remain intact, whatever the cost.

Realising she might have done something not far off from that by going on about her gifts to Harry and the twins, she blurted, "What did Harry think of the Defence books you gave him?"

"Well..." Remus, apparently satisfied with the arrangement of the gifts, lowered himself to the floor, stretching out on his side, facing her, with one elbow on a cushion and his head on his hand, "I must confess to having also harboured a measure of insecurity that Harry would feel a prat for being given schoolbooks for Christmas instead of something cool like a working model Firebolt--"

"The books were Sirius' idea!"

"Actually, he suggested private lessons in the Shrieking Shack because of the risk and Ultimate Umbridge Annoyance factors--"

"But they're bloody cool books!"

Smiling, Remus reached for her hand, which rested on her knee. "My doubts were put to rest when Harry, in typical fifteen-year-old male fashion, blushed profusely, looked at Sirius and me without really meeting our eyes, and muttering something that could have been Gobbledegook, but I think must have been Wow, thanks a lot, Professor Lupin."

He squeezed her hand, then sat up. "But I think that's enough of talking about other people's gifts, isn't it?"

"Quite," said Tonks, her heart pounding again from anticipation, rather than awkward embarrassment.

At least until she blurted, "Me first!" and Remus looked at her with raised eyebrows and an inquiring half-smile, and she went felt her face burn Weasley red.

"Someone's eager," he said, twisting to reach for a thin, perfectly flat package, which if she were to guess what it was, she'd have to say a calendar -- only she knew Remus would never give her something as dull as a calendar, or if he did, it would be a pretty bloody fantastic one. But as his gaze flicked from hers to it, Tonks saw a flash of something that might have been doubt.

Or you might just think you see doubt because you were just thinking that he ought to experience doubt. Bit hypocritical for someone hell-bent on giving him his pride, don't you think?

There was nothing for it but to suck up her embarrassment and let Remus see just how enthusiastic she was about Christmas with him.

"Course I am," she said. "Remus pressies are always so great that I've wondered if there was a Great Gifts class at Hogwarts in the '70s that you got an O in."

Whatever she'd seen -- or thought she'd seen -- in Remus' eyes had completely vanished -- if it had ever been there at all -- as he chuckled. "They removed it from the curriculum after I left school, because they didn't think it was fair to expect students to live up to the shining example I'd set."

"Also, I'm just rushing to the front of the line because we've got an even number of presents between us--"

"I only see five, and last I checked, it was an odd--"

"Trust me, git, there are six, and yours has got to be the very last thing."

"Has it now? How very intriguing." Remus handed over her present. "You'd best get on with that, then, or else you might find that curiosity is just as lethal to werewolves as it is to cats."

"Can't be having that."

Tonks ripped into the stripy silver and gold paper, and found not a calendar, but a plastic film-wrapped cardboard packet of what appeared to be faintly greenish stars in a variety of sizes. The stars delighted her in and of themselves -- though Remus had been forced to cut back, her Christmas gifts always included something star-themed in honour of the stars-spangled Wellies she'd been wearing the first time they met; Remus had given her everything from star jewellery to bags to scarves, even a pair of star-shaped sunglasses -- but...

"What are they?" she asked.

Remus pointed to the packaging. "Glow Stars."

"Well, of course I read that."

Remus explained how Fred and George had found them in a Muggle novelty shop, and were considering them, among other a few other Muggle items, for their own joke shop. "I thought they looked interesting," he said, "and since I believe I have quite possibly exhausted star fashion accessories, I bought these off of the twins."

Tonks looked at her gift with new interest. "They're Muggle magic, then?"

"Sort of," said Remus. "You stick them to your ceiling, and when it's dark, they glow."

Tonks gaped at him, then at the Glow Stars. "Blimey! They do that without Spellotape or Lumos Charms?"

Scooting to sit close beside her, Remus slipped one arm behind her, palm on the floor at the base of her spine, and turned the package over in her lap. "It says something about the stars absorbing artificial light or even daylight, but I can't quite work it out. You might ask your dad if he knows anything about it."

"I think it might spoil the magic to know how it works," said Tonks. "Unless you really are worried about curiosity killing the werewolf?"

Remus grinned. "I know real stars haven't five tidy points, but I thought it might be a fun Boxing Day project to arrange them in constellations."

He'd spoken very softly, his breath ruffling her fringe as his fingers trailed over her sleeve. His eyes held a look that told Tonks Remus hadn't thought so much as hoped they would spend their Boxing Day mapping out the heavens on the ceiling. He'd imagined them doing it.

Here.

Making a permanent mark on his house.

Together.

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough...

It would say that this cottage was their house. Written in the stars.

To stop herself acting on the rush of excitement that pulsed from her heart and all through her, making her fingertips tingle to tear open the rest of her presents now, and to declare to Remus what he had not yet asked, she nudged the crook of his arm with her shoulder and said, "You're such a swot, Remus."

His sandy brows arched. "Remind me, Nymphadora -- how many NEWTs do you have again, and in which subjects?"

Scowling, Tonks told him not to call her Nymphadora lest she Reducto all his gifts. Though as she said this whilst Summoning one of his onto his lap (dropping it a bit too hard, not intentionally) his apologies seemed largely unrepentant.

"I think you'll find we're perfectly matched in swottiness," she told him as he slipped his index finger under one Spellotaped edge of the green paper. "Even if I am a totally kick-arse Auror."

"Only I don't think any self-respecting swot would purchase The Kappa of Kent as a show of swottiness," Remus replied as the gift wrap fell away from a hardcover book with a vibrantly illustrated jacket, from which the huge, monkey eyes of a kappa glowed up from a pond.

Tonks snorted. "Please. Don't even try to pretend you didn't put a little star by the book review in the Prophet -- which was quite favourable, I recall, meaning you meant to take a look at the library. I know you secretly like the Creature Capers series for more than just pointing out their scientific inaccuracies." Not to mention he was running his fingers over the cover, thumbing through it, inhaling the new book scent.

"It's true," he said, ducking his head slightly, sheepishness tingeing his grin. "I've been reading them since I was...I don't know, five? Arabella Figg's husband was subscribed to the series and would lend them to me when he was finished -- then tell me to keep them till he wanted to read them again, which he never did. Do you know there are one hundred and ten in the series? This brings my collection up to date, thank you. I'd been holding out for it to show up in Flourish and Blott's second-hand bin, but had begun to despair that it ever would."

She'd had no idea of Remus' history with the books, and was gladder than ever that she'd noticed his mark in the paper all those months ago when the book had been released. And though she knew he would have been perfectly content with a second-hand copy, she was really glad he got to add a brand new volume to his collection. He deserved it.

"Maybe you can read it to me under the light of my new Glow Stars," she said.

"I think that would create just the right ambiance for the tale of..." He cleared his throat and read from the jacket liner, "...a Muggle family that discovers a mysterious creature in their koi pond, which leads them to a whole new world they never knew existed right before their eyes."

Next Tonks opened a set of wooden coat hangers painted in lime greens and magentas and sunshine yellows, with pink pigs hugging the wire hangers. Remus showed her how they were charmed to detect whenever an article of clothing was discarded anywhere other than on the hanger, and to oink and grunt, If you can see where your clothes lie, you're living in a pigsty! Which would have annoyed her if it had been from her mum, but because it was pigs, and from Remus, it instead amused her to no end. Especially as her second gift to him was an expandable file, such as they used in the Auror office to replace his currently very appalling system, even to her, of stacks of parchment on every free surface of his bedroom. It had a roving eye, like Mad-Eye's, which saw when a paper was not filed and shouted a department catchphrase that had tormented her during her first year on the squad: Constant vigilance applies to parchments! The file also bewitched things sorted into the Personal Secrets folder to look like Famous Wizard cards to anyone but the person who had filed them; Professional Secrets became issues of The Quibbler; and Top Secret files self-destructed if they fell into any hands but those designated by the filer as the right ones.

"It seems we each have a desire to see the other be a little more organised," said Remus, though he looked thrilled with the file and impressed by her spellwork.

"Rather a case of the blind leading the blind, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but I think we compliment each other quite nicely." Remus leant in to peck her lips. "At least we're both guaranteed a forgiving partner, if not one to keep us on the straight and narrow path to organisation."

His words about partnership alone had been enough to send Tonks heart into a frantic tempo and make her palms sweat, but he'd also pressed the last, small gift into her hands as he'd spoken.

Small in size, but when it comes to meaning, it's the biggest, by far.

Her hands trembled so that it was difficult to break the Spellotape loose from the corner and pull the paper away. She'd never been so nervous in her life, not even the day of her Auror qualification examinations; unlike then, these nerves were borne from anticipation of what a monumental turn her life was about to take, rather than of doubt. Just as she had anticipated, she unwrapped a red velvet jewellery case. Smiling, she glanced up at Remus and saw him watching her with his usual calm, relaxed expression.

He ought to be showing at least a little nervousness at a moment like this, oughtn't he, Tonks? Bit unnatural of him to be so bloody calm.

Pulling away the last of the gift wrap from the box, Tonks sat still for a moment, wadding the paper into a ball. Was it unnatural for Remus to stand calmly at this threshold? He knew how much she loved him; if he'd been in any doubt, his confession last week of needing her, and her ready response to him, ought to have laid fear to rest.

Don't be a stupid prat! she told herself. Smooth is Remus' middle name -- well, his other middle name. If any wizard were capable of being cool and confident at a moment like this, it'd be Remus. It's his style. Completely natural.

With that, she flashed him a wide grin (which he returned, though not quite as broadly, and with his gaze flickering down to the jewellery box) and flipped open the lid.

Her breath caught.

Her heart thudded, once, then hung suspended, huge and heavy, in her chest.

Her stomach coiled itself into a thick and sickening knot.

She hadn't expected an engagement ring.

She'd known it would be a new rune charm for her bracelet.

She'd just been so sure it would be Othila, Rune of Home, Hearth, and Family -- not Mannaz, Rune of Humanity.

Now don't give up just yet. You've got an Ancient Runes NEWT, so you know that whilst Mannaz represents the creativity and intelligence that carry human individuals through the difficult journey of life, it also represents shared experience...partnership. It's a beautiful meaning, and could just as easily be the one Remus would choose to pop the question to you.

"I was uncertain which Rune to give you this Christmas," his rasping voice spoke softly over her inner pep-talk, "till last week, when Arthur was attacked."

You see? He needs you. He told you that. He'll say it again -- and this time, he'll drop down on one knee and tell you he needs you to be his wife.

He took the Rune from its tiny silk pillow and used his wand to affix it to a silver link of her bracelet. After he had done, he made no move to kneel, but Tonks held out hope as he took her hand in his and looked into her eyes.

"You're a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Elphine," he said. "The battles we fight together, the trust we have in one another...It's an experience so few people have in this life. I wanted you to have a symbol of the Order on your charm bracelet, because the Order will, undoubtedly, shape you, and change you. It already has done. I am so proud of you, and so honoured, to stand up beside you against Voldemort. And I am so humbled to have your love."

Remus' speech, apparently, worked precisely like a Solvo spell, unbinding the knot her stomach had tied itself into. Her heart began to pulse again; her lungs drew deeply of the air. He had not proposed marriage, had not even uttered the word or any of the related words. He had, however, talked of trust, and togetherness, and their love. How could that disappoint?

She sure as hell wasn't going to let it disappoint.

"I do love you," she murmured, leaning into him for a deep, but quick kiss. "I've got one more present for you--"

Remus started to turn his head to look under the tree, where no more gifts lay, but Tonks caught his face and kept his eyes on hers.

"--only you've got to let me go upstairs for five minutes before you come up and open it. Okay?"

"Okay," said Remus, drawing the word out, pitched high at the end in a slight question. "But only because I'm sure it would take a good deal longer than five minutes for a werewolf to die of curiosity, and I've got The Kappa of Kent to pass the time."

Clicky for the rest of the chapter.