A/N: This story was originally published at Checkmated on December 21, 2005.

The Holiday Detour, Part II

Tonks slipped out of her childhood bedroom and headed toward the front door as quietly as she could, stealthily pulling her overnight bag along the floor in an effort to keep it out of sight. She had a date – a date – and while it was probably too much to expect even in a metaphorical sense, she was hoping to make a graceful exit without drawing too much attention to herself.

"What are you doing, Nymphadora?"

Tonks froze in her tracks at the sound of her mother's voice. Pasting on a casual smile, she gently dropped her overnight bag and stash of leftover roast beef by the front door, and turned back to face her mother.

A quill twirling in her hand, Andromeda Tonks sat in the wing chair opposite her husband and stared absently at the Daily Prophet crossword puzzle through her sleek, gold-rimmed reading glasses.

"Just pulling my stuff together, Mum."

"Leaving so soon?"

"It's not exactly soon, Mum, it's half past four."

Her mother's gaze drifted above the half-lenses. "I didn't realise we were on a schedule." She had spoken in that annoying voice; a cross between sounding hurt but still up for giving a scolding that mothers always liked to use.

"Not a schedule," Tonks rushed, a little too obviously. Her mother's eyebrows rose slightly. "It's just that I…well—" Trying to keep the smile on her face, Tonks shrugged uncomfortably. "I sort of made plans for tonight."

"Did you hear that, Ted?" said Andromeda silkily. "Our daughter has made plans to be elsewhere on Christmas Day."

"Plans, yes. I heard." Tonks glanced at her father just in time to see the corners of his mouth turn up as he continued to peruse the newspaper. "They've got to be more interesting than staring at this Christmas tree, picking at leftovers, and watching her parents read the paper."

Her mother lifted her chin in a very Blackish way and smiled. "Well?"

"Well what, Mum?"

"Are they?"

"Are what, what?" Tonks was being purposely dense, stalling in the desperate hope that her mother's train of thought would be derailed before she'd have to answer properly.

"Are your plans more interesting?"

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, Tonks shrugged self-consciously again. "It's nothing, really. I'm just… it's just that I… I promised I'd meet a friend, that's all."

"Ah, a friend." Andromeda scanned her puzzle, quill twirling again. "This friend wouldn't be Remus Lupin, would he?"

Struggling with the hauntingly familiar, teen-like flashback that her mother had been reading her diary or something, Tonks felt a blush coming on. "How did…I mean…who told you that?" she stammered.

Andromeda glanced at her casually. "You did."

"What? I did not! When did I tell you?"

"Just now." Her mother smiled in a way Tonks considered to be passively evil. "You should see the look on your face, Nymphadora. I'm your mother. You can't fool me."

"I'm not trying to fool anyone, Mum. All I said was I'm meeting a friend. What difference does it make if it's Remus Lupin?" Tonks could feel the uncontrollable expression her face was making, and knew she was putting too much effort into useless denial.

"I'm not the one making the difference, dear. You've mentioned him at least a dozen times since you arrived yesterday, so—"

"I have not!" Tonks said flatly, her embarrassment deepening. "Even if I have mentioned him, so what?"

"So, I'm simply curious about your definition of friend."

"Oh leave her alone, An," Ted chimed in, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

"Thanks, Dad," Tonks said, half-glaring at her mother.

Without missing a beat, her father continued, "When she's ready to admit she's got a boyfriend, she will." The grin on his face was just as maddening as the one on her mother's. So much for paternal solidarity.

"Ugh," Tonks sighed, "you two are the worst." She glanced at her watch. "And on that note, I'm leaving." In spite of the mild torture, Tonks gave each of her parents a hug and a kiss right where they sat in their chairs. "I love you both. Happy Christmas."

"We love you too," her father replied. Then, with a sparkle in his eyes, he added, "Have a nice time with your friend."

Exasperated but amused, Tonks rolled her eyes. "Whatever with you, Dad."

Once she returned home, Tonks raced around to get everything ready – including herself. After tidying up the flat and making a cold plate of cheese, crackers, and the roast beef she'd nicked from her parents, she tidied herself up with a hot shower and a change of clothes. Pulling on a pair of black leggings, she slipped a sparkly red shirt over her bare chest and then shimmied into a short black skirt. Her black ankle boots and a few subtle but strategic spritzes of perfume were the last touches.

Without a moment to spare, a knock sounded at the door. He was right on time.

Tonks ran jittery hands through short, nearly black hair and checked her look in the entryway mirror. Concentrating just long enough to add a little colour to her cheeks and lips, she tried to shake off any outward signs of nervousness. From the moment Remus left the other night, everything that had happened between them – the romantic stroll through Diagon Alley, the snowy detour to get her Christmas tree, the hand-holding and the kissing – had started to seem too good to be true. Like a dream. Was tonight going to be awkward, or would they be able to pick up where they'd left off?

After a series of calming breaths she slowly pulled open the door. Remus stood there with a wrapped bottle in his hand, his dark overcoat covering a crisp white dress shirt and dark trousers, and his long, loosely woven oxblood muffler was wound twice around his neck. There wasn't a single hair – brown or grey – out of place, and Tonks had never seen him looking so handsome.

"Hi," she said in a hushed voice, smiling shyly.

Remus smiled too. He stepped forward somewhat uncertainly and bent down as if his intention was to kiss her cheek. But when she looked up at him he seemed to change his mind, kissing her lips briefly instead. "Happy Christmas."

"Please. Come in."

She took his muffler and overcoat, and while he made his way to the sitting room she held the collar close and inhaled the smell of him and the trace of fresh air. There was no point trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach; apparently Remus was just as willing to pick up where they'd left off as she was. Following him into the other room, she found him standing near the Christmas tree with his hands in his trouser pockets.

"So," he said with a tentative smile.

"So."

"How was Christmas with your parents?"

"It was nice. Fine. They're…the same," she said, laughing. "May I get you a drink?"

"Sure." He pointed at the wrapped bottle he'd set on the table. "If you have the hot butter, I've brought the rum as promised. It's dark rum – I hope you don't mind."

"It's actually my favourite."

Remus followed her into the kitchen and hovered while she put the kettle on and pulled a pair of large mugs from the shelf. With him standing just behind her, it was difficult to concentrate on even the simplest task. All she really wanted to do was turn and fling her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless, but that seemed like an activity that should probably wait – at least for a little while.

Tonks opened the small jar containing the buttered rum mix and sniffed at the contents. "I made this yesterday morning before I went home for Christmas Eve. It's made of brown sugar, butter, nutmeg, cinnamon, clove, cardamom, and vanilla. It smells so good," she said, holding the jar over her shoulder for Remus.

He leaned down and inhaled the sweetness and spice. "It does." She felt his hands on her hips and he leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he breathed in her perfume. "And it's not the only thing."

She turned her face to him and then, very slowly, he kissed her to the point of fainting. For a moment Tonks wobbled on her low-heeled boots, leaning back against him to steady herself. As if it had been timed to express her feelings, the teakettle whistled from the heat.

"You'll be wanting that drink then," she mumbled. Remus only smiled.

Hot-buttered rum and cold plate in hand, they moved into the sitting room and settled on the hearthrug in front of the fire, leaning against the settee for support. The small Christmas tree they'd decorated together two nights before was as adorable as ever, presiding over them with its ornaments, bright fairy lights, twinkling snow spell, and tinsel.

Time slipped by as they talked quietly and drank far too much rum, and while they'd started out with a proper distance between them, they were now as close as they could be. Remus had put his arm around her some time ago, slowly pulling her near enough that she had to tilt her head back to look in his eyes.

The yellow-orange glow of the flames was highlighting the angles of his face, and the way his mouth moved when he spoke was far too distracting to really concentrate on anything he was saying. Eventually Remus realised she wasn't listening.

"Not boring you, am I?" he whispered in that soft, rasping tone.

She could only manage to shake her head; all other energy was being put to silently wishing he would stop talking full stop and kiss her the way he had in the kitchen. He stared into her eyes for a few moments while his fingers played in her hair, but then he slowly leaned down and granted her wish.

The rich and spicy sweetness of the buttered rum had left his lips that much smoother and softer. The gentle intensity of his kisses made her lightheaded, and soon Tonks gave no thought to anything else. The hum of the fairy lights and the occasional pop and snap from the fire were the only sounds to interrupt their heavy, passionate breathing. It could have been minutes or hours before they finally broke apart, each releasing a contented sigh.

"I haven't spent a night kissing shamelessly in front of the fire since I was at Hogwarts," she said, laughing softly.

"I haven't either," he said.

"It's funny, isn't it – the things that make you feel like a teenager again?"

"True." His forehead dropping to her shoulder, Remus groaned. "But if it's all the same, I'd prefer not to think of you as a teenager. It's rather more recent for you than me, and I don't need any reminders that I'm old as arse."

"Oh, pffft. You are not old as arse. Besides, it makes us even."

"There's no getting around the fact that I'm quite a bit older than you."

"But Remus, if kissing shamelessly in front of the fire makes us both feel like teenagers again, it means that – for right now at least – we're the same age." She giggled and pressed several soft kisses to his mouth while he seemed to consider her remark; it wouldn't do if he got sidetracked by something stupid like the difference in their ages.

"Hmm. That is an excellent point." He scanned her face thoughtfully for a moment before leaning in to kiss her again.

Although she might have spent a few nights like this in the past, Tonks didn't remember any of them being this wonderful or dead sexy. Remus didn't seem to realise that his age was a decided advantage over the boys she knew in school. He was so much smoother, more experienced, and somehow more sophisticated than anyone she'd been with before, and she had no intention of settling for less. Ever again.

The sound of their kisses and breathing left the flat very quiet, and things became deeper and heavier until Tonks thought her insides would melt. Remus slowly worked a hand beneath her sparkly shirt and closed it over a breast. He was taking them to the next level and Tonks didn't hesitate to respond willingly, pressing her chest forward against his hand.

After many long minutes, Remus released a low, trembling, teakettle-ish sort of whistle. "Maybe I ought to think about leaving." He took several ragged breaths. "It's that or—"

"Or?" she whispered against his ear. He shuddered slightly before turning back to her. The look in his eyes told her that leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. "Or you could stay," she said.

"Don't you think it's a little soon for that?" he said, kissing her very softly. "I don't want to ruin this by rushing things."

She didn't necessarily disagree with him, but at the same time she wasn't going to let him just go home without a fight. "I don't think we can ruin this, Remus. I have a feeling about us." Judging by the expression on his face, the seriousness of that statement was running a far greater risk of ruining things than going too far in the physical sense. "Besides, you can't leave," she recovered casually, "you haven't opened your present yet."

Unsure of where she'd left her wand, Tonks crawled on her hands and knees to the tree and retrieved his gift. She tossed it to him and crawled back, excited to watch him open it. Remus held it to his ear and shook it just as he had two nights earlier, but shrugged.

"I have no idea what it might be."

"Only one way to find out," she chirped. "Open it!"

It was all she could do to sit there and watch him unwrap it with the same care he might a priceless antique. It figured he'd be the type to be ever so slow and measured, untying the ribbons one by one, and running his long index finger beneath the edge of the decorated paper, unfolding it carefully without so much as a single tear.

Wrapping gone and box lid set aside, he sifted through the layers of tissue paper and pulled out the gloves. For a few moments he simply stared at them, but then tilted them slightly so he could get a better look at them in the firelight.

"I've never seen a finer pair of gloves," he said finally, his voice reedier than usual.

"They're kidskin – and as near in colour to your muffler as I could find. Oh, and the lining!" she said, watching as he slid several fingers inside one glove and felt around. The genuine smile that graced his lips was worth a million Galleons. "Rabbit fur," she added, beaming.

He continued to feel the texture of the gloves, both inside and out. "How can they be so soft? Is it a spell?"

"I don't know. But that's what sold them to me. It's like they'll melt on your skin. Like butter."

"I honestly don't know what to say. I love them. And it was very thoughtful of you."

Tonks snuggled against him and shrugged slightly. "Just something I wanted to do for you."

Remus lifted her chin with his finger and gazed into her eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welco—"

She didn't have a chance to finish the word before he was kissing her again. It got hot and heavy very quickly, and Tonks was afraid that he'd soon be thinking he should do the decent thing again and go home. She thought not.

In a bold and very naughty move, she let her hand stray over the fly of his trousers and gave him unmistakable encouragement. He made a throaty sound and worked out the words 'not fair' between kisses. Trying not to smile, Tonks smoothly broke away from him and got up. She loomed over him for a moment, and his heavy-lidded eyes tried to focus on her face now that it was in shadow.

"Where are you going?" he mumbled breathlessly.

"To bed," she said slyly. "You're invited, of course."

She stood there long enough to watch him swallow with difficulty as he realised what was about to happen. Then she slowly walked toward her bedroom, knowing full well he was watching her body's every move. Stopping just inside the doorway, she glanced back at him from over her shoulder. He'd managed to scramble to his feet.

"Oh, and Remus?"

"What?" He hesitated, blinking at her.

"Bring the gloves."

Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.