Tonks quite likes winter, although she's never really understood why. It's disgusting; she spends three months of the year wrapped in woolen clothing that hides her colourful band t-shirts and stays tucked up in bed with a book.

She supposes what makes it appeal to her is the intimacy of it all, that curling up with your lover takes on a new meaning in the search for heat, that coffee does so more than just fulfill a caffeine addiction for a few hours.

At seven months pregnant, it's hard to enjoy anything, but at least she has an excuse to stay in bed. Remus slides in beside her, tickling her stomach and whispering to the baby over and over again. Tonks doesn't always hear what he says, but she picks out keywords like 'klutz' and 'fiesty' and decides that she doesn't really want to know.

She's never been the calmest of people, but all pregnancy has done is make her more volatile. Remus is on edge too, and one day she catches him standing shirtless with shaving cream smeared across her face – the corners of her mouth twitch as she avoids making all the jokes his best friends once laughed at for hours and she remembers the time Sirius bought his friend a home-waxing kit (although a five year old Tonks hadn't really understood the joke at the time) – shivering in the cold and staring into space.

"Remus?" she asks gently, applying some of that tact that Flitwick had always said she had and never employed. "Remus? Remus?"

"Yes, Tonks?" he replies with a sigh, but there's this tiny hint of a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips, and she feels like she's drowning all over again.

"Are you -" Suddenly, questions about his mental welfare seem so useless. Of course he's not okay. There's a war and they're dying left, right and centre and bloody hell that honeymoon seems like a long time ago. "We're leaving the house," she says, throwing her body and her lips – each as swollen as the other – against him before he has time to react. They've always danced around, both literally and figuratively, but now Remus and Tonks are learning that it takes two to tango.

"But Tonks, it's freezing out there. You'll freeze… it's not good for your health."

"And worrying isn't good for your mind or the wrinkles on your face, but I don't chastise you, do I?"

Remus chuckles along with her, and then his face hardens as he thinks of a sizable comeback. She drags him out the door before he can react, her sizable stomach leading the way. Tonks has embraced pregnancy like life: the more you get used to it, the more you want it.

"Come on Remus," she shouted, breaking into a lumbering skip that reminded Remus of an animal taking its first steps. The sunlight danced on her face, stained with murky water from the puddles she'd been jumping in. Her fingers fluttered in the cold breeze as she dragged Remus towards her, immersing his feet in the icy water.

"Bloody hell, Tonks," he sighed, in an attempt to act annoyed at her. Their acting never lasted long; this war had eaten away at them so much that whatever skill they had left was used solely to stay alive. "I know where we can go."

"Where?" Her face lit up, and for a moment Remus could remember the adventurous young warrior she'd once been.

He resists the urge to drag her down the street the way he'd once dragged her into his arms (and his bed), glancing warily at her pregnant stomach. They talk all the way to his secret location – and Remus Lupin has never been able to keep a secret before, because they always tug at the corners of his mouth and make him smile uncontrollably – discussing life and art and literature like they did in the good old days of their honeymoon (he feels old saying that).

"You masterminded a plot to turn the Quidditch pitch into a swamp?" Tonks asks in disbelief. Her laughter leaves her winded, and he frets about her every step – the baby, the baby, the baby – while she slaps him away.

"Well, it was Sirius' idea. He thought that James was spending too much time at Quidditch practice and not enough with his friends. I just happened to be the only one who knew how the spell worked."

They chat about other things too, like favourite Hogwarts portraits and best meals and how, if they ever survive this war they'll take their child to Egypt. Tonks decides that Bill will be a corrupting influence and Remus laughs and says "can't be any worse than the poor kid's mother," to which Tonks just winks and replies, "you never know."

They trade jokes like sandwiches and Chocolate Frog cards, laughing their way to Remus' secret place.

"It… it's beautiful," Tonks says finally, one hand on her stomach and the other on her heart (and really now, they're the same thing). "Where are we?" It's a part of London she's never seen, away from the dirt and the grime and the snide stares of the city people. Out here, she might possibly believe that Remus and her are the stuff of legend, the husband and wife of romance novels and famous literature that they've never been able to be.

Tonks has always hated cliché, but she'll do anything in the name of love.

They sit in the snow amid Remus' protests that it's not good for the baby – it's not good for the baby but it's refreshing to her – the cold white slush sticking to their legs and the palms of their hands. Tonks can feel water seeping into the bottom of her jeans, and it reminds her that, like life, the water cycle regenerates itself again and again.

She can do the same with her faces, but since Remus, she's re-invented herself less and less.

"We used to come here every summer holidays." Even without names, Tonks has no doubt as to who he means. "Of course, it's a bit different now, but…"

"Somehow, it's still the same?"

"Well, I'd much rather kiss you than James," Remus says with a laugh, short and slightly stilted, as though even this is an insult to the dead. "But you're right, it does mean a lot to me."

Tonks wraps her coat around herself, shivering in the wind. She's soaked through to the bone now and remember Tonks, you're pregnant, and it ain't that easy anymore. She still suffers morning sickness and cravings like everybody else, but this baby has become so much a part of her that sometimes, she doesn't even notice it's there.

As they leave, Tonks can see how this park could be pretty, if the flowers were blooming and the grass was showing through the thick coat of snow it wore. It reminds her of one of those gardens from the Bible – she studied it in fifth year Muggle studies – a little piece of paradise in all the horror of the city and the war.

As she ducks under a snow laden branch, something catches her eye.

"Remus, look at this."

Just under the lower most branch, someone's engraved the tree with crude scratches, four little slogans that encompass an age.

Dial 1800-SIRIUS on your fellytone. Once you go Black, you never go back.

JP for LE

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

Peter was here! 16/6/1976

"I remember that," Remus says quietly. "I was so against it, at first. By then, James had already started carving Lily's initials, and it was too late. Plus I couldn't resist the urge to quote Shakespeare." He shrugs off his long past misdemeanors with a sigh, and Tonks can see his shoulders shaking as the words bore themselves into his mind. "Plus, Sirius' quote still makes me laugh. He always was the arrogant one."

He pauses, wrapping an arm around Tonks' soaking wet shoulders.

"I loved them. Almost as much as I loved you."

"I know."

And with that, there's nothing else to say. Words can only express so much.

They leave the park, and trudge along the streets to a café; the snow sinks into their boots too and Tonks can barely walk, her feet are so numb. Remus orders coffee, steaming hot and they sit in a corner booth, away from the prying eyes of customers that think a thirteen-year age difference is so wrong.

"Remus," Tonks says quietly. "Why… why were you so upset this morning? I… I thought you were about to lift the knife to your throat or something."

"This isn't Sweeney Todd, Tonks. Although, that was possibly the best book Sirius ever recommended to me. Much better than the Karma Sutra, at any rate."

"Sirius brought you the Karma Sutra."

"Yet another birthday present… like the waxing kit you reminded me of, that I'd rather been hoping to forget."

Tonks rolls her eyes – Remus had loved his friends' practical jokes, no matter how much he protests otherwise. The truth is in the sparkle of his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth turn upward.

He seems to enjoy changing the subject too, she realises.

"Look, Remus," Tonks says. "I'm not going to make a big deal of it if you're scared or you're worried, but I want to know, so I can help you."

"It's nothing." His smile is so wide, she can almost believe it, but she knows him too well.

"Come on," she says gently. "Let's go home."

Back home there's a couch and a toilet – that's the thing she hates most about this baby right now, although she's sure she's in for a lot worse in a few months – and she can rest her feet. Remus sees her pain as she grits her teeth and mutters, "We shouldn't have left the house, I knew."

"I'm fine, Remus!"

Neither of them are telling the complete truth, but they're happy enough, and for now, that's all that matters. They've got forever and a day to worry about the little things.

Argh, I so wanted to give these two a happy ending and then there I go with my angst addiction again. :) Maybe I should just book myself in the mental institution already? Anyway, this is finished, and I've had a lot of fun writing it. I just want to say a massive thankyou to anyone and everyone who's left a review, and to Megsy42, for designing this challenge.