Noble Mistake—Chapter Two: Excessive Rationalization

A/n: I can't believe this took over six months to finish—to the few of you who are still reading, I apologize wholeheartedly with no excuse except the advent of life and all it's annoying little distractions. RLNT still signifies scene changes.

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The transformations didn't get easier with company; if anything, they worsened. After two years of receiving a ready-made Wolfsbane Potion, Remus had almost forgotten how violent an unhindered transmutation could be. Fenrir Greyback and his delegated "pack" seemed to revel in the wild abandon the wolf form brought, but Remus sometimes felt as though his morals and beliefs were disintegrating with every full moon. At times, he resented Dumbledore for putting him in such a position; at others, he felt as though this was the only good he could offer the Order.

Become the stereotypical werewolf. Maul children, infect adults. Create nightmares. Those were his orders.

Remus leaned his back against the rough cave wall. Around him, dejected lycanthropes wandered around in various stages of disarray. Greyback, however, was talking animatedly near the back of the cavern. Remus's stomach clenched a bit as he heard the words "little boy", but he wasn't close enough to hear anything more than that. Greyback didn't trust him, and therefore, if Remus were to get close to the discussion, it would stop. The only time Remus ever heard Fenrir speak was when he was enumerating why working with the Dark Lord was preferential to trying to cooperate with his opposition.

There was no arguing with Greyback. He had spurned the wizarding world since his infection, like almost everyone sitting in that cave with him. Remus was the only exception. He was the only werewolf to attend Hogwarts and thus was the only werewolf that had tried to live like a normal wizard. That was enough to make him "just as bad". The other werewolves skirted around him, shot him dirty glances. In all honesty, Remus didn't think he would ever be accepted in the lycanthropic underground. He had lived too long without contact with them.

He really had no hope that he would ever be able to bring another werewolf to the Order, and he had told Dumbledore such. Mostly, he just sat in the cave and listened to the savage conversation that flitted about. He gave as much information as he could, but he doubted it was any help to anyone. And at the full moon, he would transform without the Wolfsbane sedating his violence. He would wake up in the forest that stood outside the cave, naked and bleeding.

It was times like those when Remus, struggling to breathe through cracked ribs and a sore mouth, that he would close his eyes and remember the little bits of happiness he had felt throughout his life. Most nights, his mind would wander to the thought of her.

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When he saw her at an Order meeting for the first time, he could hardly believe that this was Sirius's little cousin, the one he had met in Diagon Alley by chance one day in late July. Back then, she had been a little girl with grass in her hair and dirt on her clothing. Now she was a short, curvy, young woman who had since discarded her brown pigtails for short pink spikes. He hadn't even recognized her until Sirius had re-introduced them.

"Tonks, Sirius," she said. "My name is Tonks. And if you even call me 'Nymphie' again, I will curse your teeth out." Then she turned to Remus, and said, quite frankly, "From what everyone tells me, you're the werewolf around here. Hullo. I'm the metamorphagus."

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"Caught you lookin' 't Tonks 'gain," said Sirius one day through his sandwich.

"Pardon?" said Remus, putting his paper on the table.

Sirius swallowed dramatically and repeated, "Caught you looking at Tonks again. One of those looks, you know, like you're undressing her with your eyes."

"Sirius," Remus said dryly, "you have got to stop nipping into your mum's old liquor cabinet."
"Don't be ashamed of it, Moony, mate. I haven't had a good shag in years either. Dementors don't make good bed-mates, if you get my drift. They're more into raping your soul." Remus's insides writhed with discomfort. To admit that he may've…well, had been looking at Nymphadora made him feel slightly perverse.

"I don't know what you're waiting for," Sirius added when Remus found himself at a loss for words. "I would have been chasing her weeks ago, if I were you."

Remus laughed shortly at that. "Because we all know she would've been so receptive to me. Sirius, I'm not exactly the catch of the day."

"You never know," said Sirius cryptically.

Remus snorted. "I'm sure that Tonks, your twenty-three-year-old cousin, would love having an enamored werewolf, who happens to be fifteen years her senior, lusting after her."

"She could be into older guys," Sirius suggested. "Or she could have a thing for bestiality."

"Sirius, I think it's wholly probable that your cabin fever has turned you legally insane."

"I'm just saying that if she ever happens to come onto you, you should completely let her do what she wants.

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"She's horrible to our department! Always wanting us to go after what she calls "half breeds" rather than criminals. And Dumbledore is letting her teach!" Tonks gritted her teeth and kicked something on the road.

"Dumbledore couldn't do anything about it," Remus reminded her. "But Sirius said that Harry's been having a rough time with her."

"Anybody would," said Tonks. "She's a toad." Remus laughed shortly and looked around at his surroundings—Muggle London.

"Is your flat close by?" Remus asked, changing the subject seamlessly to avoid discussing Umbridge's new werewolf laws and his status as one of her despised half-breeds.

"Yeah," Tonks asserted. "It's the brown one up there. You know-- the one that looks as though it's practically falling apart."

"It's not…that bad," Remus reassured her half-heartedly. In all truth, the building looked as though it ought to have been torn down years ago. Graffiti was smattered on the wall facing the street, and the windows that didn't have bars over them had holes that were sloppily mended with sello-tape

Tonks laughed, an infectious, merry sound that drew a disapproving, suspicious look from a disheveled young Muggle who was standing at the corner. "Don't try to make me feel better. It is that bad. One of my superiors clearly dislikes me—she told me I was a "disgrace to wizardkind"—and I think she's the reason I got assigned to keep eye on the dodgy end of London." As they stepped through the rusted gate, Remus felt the familiar tingle that was associated with an Anti-Apparition ward.

"A disgrace to wizardkind?" Remus quipped. "Where would she get an idea like that?"

Tonks blushed faintly, and said, "Well, it might have to do with that time I knocked all her assignment papers on the ground, or maybe when I charmed an inter-departmental memo to fly around the office…or it could've been that time…" She broke off as she saw Remus's shoulders shake in silent laughter. "It's not funny, Remus!" she exclaimed in mock annoyance. "She tried to have me sacked, and even now she gives me the worst assignments."
"I'm very sorry, Nymphadora, for trivializing your pain." Tonks glared pointedly at his use of her first name, then surreptitiously, after checking for spying Muggle eyes, tapped the front door of the apartment complex with her wand.

Remus sobered quickly. "You certainly have a lot of protection wards around your flat," he said somberly.

"Of course," she returned flippantly. "Who'd want to risk having me, a beautiful, young witch, cursed or abducted?" They began climbing the stairs, and Tonks made it a point not to touch the soiled handrail. "You never know what's on that thing," she said over her shoulder. "It's good that I'm only on the third floor—these stairs are dangerous." Even as she said it, she slipped, and Remus's immediate hand on her waist was the only thing that kept her from falling. "See what I mean?" she said jokingly, even as her cheeks reddened. "I've fallen at least three times this week."

Suddenly, Remus noticed that his hand was lingering on the warmth of her hip, and he drew it away quickly. "Sorry," he muttered.

"For catching me? That's mean-hearted, Remus." She smiled at him, and led him through the landing to her flat door, number 301, complete with chipped violet paint. "Bewitched it myself," she said. "It took a bit of work to make it seem as old as this place, though."

"It looks perfectly charming," Remus commented as Tonks started pulling things out of her pockets, looking for her keys.

"Cup of tea?" she offered, as she pulled the key ring out of her robes before she promptly dropped it.

"No, it's okay." Remus shifted uneasily on one foot, his stomach fluttering annoyingly. "I'd better get back."

"Oh, well…thanks for escorting me home," she said. "Good thing you were around, or else I'd be Death Eater property right now. Safety in numbers, you know." For some reason, her cheeks turned impossibly red, and she shifted her gaze from his eyes.

"I'm sure you would've been fine, Nymphadora." Remus smiled slightly, even as he felt enormously awkward standing at her door like that. If only his feet wanted to move…

"Um, well, goodbye then," Tonks said, still red. She turned toward her door, hesitated, then turned around, and before Remus could react, she had pressed her lips gently to his in a chaste kiss. Remus, shocked, did nothing as his mind raced a kilometer a minute. Was this a kiss between acquaintances? between friends? between lovers? He could still hear Sirius's commentary in his head…did she fancy him? Or was he completely missing the point? She pulled away, and looked at him with embarrassed eyes, red all the way down her neck now.

"I'm—I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, not meeting his gaze. "I thought…" She turned towards the door again, dropping her keys for the second time. She swore quietly and swooped to pick them up. As Remus stared at her, he wondered. Should he follow instinct? Should he be a gentleman? What was the proper thing to do here…?

Just as she was about to open the door, he decided, to hell with rational thought, and with one impulsive action, honed from seven years of living in the Gryffindor Tower, he seized her wrist lightly, pulled her around so she faced him, and kissed her square on the mouth. He was neither forceful, nor submissive—kissing just a little harder than she had before. His arms snaked unconsciously around her waist, and hers wound around his neck. The kiss deepened, and he pressed her against the door. She was the first to break it, breathing heavy, and said, "Here—let's go inside." Without waiting for a response, she muttered a spell, turned the doorknob, pulled him over the threshold, and pressed her lips insistently to his again.

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End of chapter one