Author's Notes: Thanks to Sara Winters for beta-reading. This is the first time I've ever written Remus/Tonks as the centre of a story, so I was a bit nervous about how this turned out. Written for the Reviews Lounge's Birthday Ficathon collaboration. The recipient was Awkward Turtle.
It was the dawn of a new day. For Remus Lupin, it was the last of a full moon cycle.
He dressed himself, ignoring the trembling in his hands and his clammy skin; the monster from the night before had stepped backwards in full retreat. Remus rolled his sleeves up his arm, pausing when he saw several healed and not-so-healed cuts.
He sighed; his last attempt at infiltrating a hostile pack of werewolves had left him a bit worse for the wear, and he had a few scars that needed better mending. He did a passable job most days. This day, he could barely muster any energy to seal the wounds properly.
Remus wrapped his cloak around his worn and lean figure. With a couple of clicks of the door, he unlocked it and stepped out of the old, but quaint Lupin home. He didn't linger in front of the building for long, instead pivoting away hastily to Apparate to Grimmauld Place.
The first thing he noticed when he entered Sirius' house was the smell of Molly preparing a meal. With his sense of smell still sensitive in the wake of his last transformation, Remus could identify freshly baked breads, beef broth, cooked vegetables, and the savoury aroma of roasted meat.
"Wotcher, Remus… bloody hell! What happened to your face?"
He barely had a chance to hang his coat on the hanger next to the door when Tonks yanked on his shoulder to get a look at him. She made for his hands, turning them over in her own.
"I look that bad, Tonks?"
"Not just bad, but bleeding. You need a mirror, and my steady hand."
"Is that Remus there?"
"Yes Molly! Keep cooking." The Auror leaned towards him. "You can thank me later for keeping her from seeing you in this condition. You wouldn't hear the end of it."
"Oh no. I'm well aware of Molly's reactions whenever I return from a mission. There's usually yelling and some rough handling of the cuts and scars."
"Probably more painful than how you got those, right?"
Remus shrugged. "It wouldn't be Molly without the eager concern. Or righteous anger."
Tonks took hold of his arm, led him up the first flight of stairs, and turned a corner. And ran, front first, into a small hutch in the corner of the landing.
"Ow!"
"Better watch out. That rogue furniture can sneak up on you."
She flashed Remus a glare, but the way that she pursed her lips together told him she was fighting back a smile. She led him up the stairs without further accident, straight to the bathroom on the next floor. He felt the need to protest and struggle dim as she closed the door; it was rather nice to be looked after by someone, instead of repairing his own broken skin after his dreaded assignments. Remus tried to ignore the fact that he was in the room alone with Tonks. It was better to convince himself that it wouldn't be any different had it been Sirius or Kingsley or Moody in here helping him.
It wasn't helping. And it only worsened as her hands touched his face, turning him gingerly from left to right. She studied his scars, and Remus could feel her breath on his nose, on his forehead, on his cheeks as she explored him.
With a smile, she started tapping his wounds with her wand, muttering the Sealing Charm's incantation: "Termino."
He let her work on his face, saying nothing to interrupt her as she healed him.
"Did you break anything?"
"No. Nothing broken."
Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Nothing sprained?" She smirked as he shook his head. "I cast a mean Episkey, Remus."
"I'll remember that," he intoned with his gentle voice.
She stood back to admire her handiwork. "You're all better now. No more open wounds marring your face."
Remus caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. "I'm impressed."
"Just impressed? I worked wonders on that mug of yours. Did you see what you looked like before?"
"Not really. I did wonder though how bad it was when you saw me. You looked like you had just seen an accident."
Tonks face fell, and she placed her wand on the counter. "Remus, you should've asked one of us for help. Kingsley or Moody or—"
Was she insane? Was she simply parading her Auror bravado in front of him because she thought he'd be impressed? Clearly, Tonks had not thought things through, the consequences of infiltrating hostile packs of creatures like him.
"Oh, yes. Because you'd blend in with them."
She looked at him flatly. "Hello. Pleased to meet you. My name is Tonks. Metamorphmagus at your service. And, just in case you were wondering, yes it does cover lycanthropy," she said sardonically. "Maybe you could do with a partner."
"I have Padfoot," he said, although his voice was soft and hesitant.
"Which would be good if he wasn't already wanted for murder. At some point, dear Remus, you will have to let other people into your life, which happens to include you being a werewolf."
Remus felt the muscle in his jaw twitch. He didn't like being confronted dead on about his "furry little problem" (and, yes, it hurt him still to remember James' words, although he admired Sirius for his ability to quote James without similar hesitation). For some reason, Tonks persisted in bringing it up, challenging him at every turn.
"Tonks, it's really far too dangerous to allow anyone to accompany me on these missions."
"I know. It's too bad that I'm not trained as an Auror or anything. Wouldn't want the big bad wolves to bite me."
He felt his temper edging up, a problem for him that lasted a couple of days after the full moon cycle. "No amount of Auror training can cover up the fact that you don't smell like one of them."
She raised an eyebrow at this, and smirked. "Better or worse, Remus?"
"What?"
She chuckled mischievously. "Do I smell better or worse than them?"
His brow creased. What was with this line of questioning? Remus did not have similar instincts that Sirius, or James had possessed when dealing with witches. There was a part of him that thought, almost imagined, that Tonks was flirting with him. It was in her grin, the way her eyes regarded him, with lowered lids, the cheeky manner in which she bit her lip that made him think—
But no. That was impossible. She was a good thirteen years younger than him. Before starting all this crazy, dangerous Order business, the last time he had seen Tonks was when she was seven or eight years old, and he and Sirius had visited his cousin Andromeda and Ted at their new home.
She was, even then, an extraordinarily clumsy child. But a lively, spirited one as well. Just watching her made Remus smile even when he didn't want to…
"Remus?" Tonks whistled and waved a hand in front of his face. "You look like you completely wandered off to a happy place."
He blinked, realizing that he had been lost in the memory of her as a young girl, her feet barely touching the bright green field — one of the more peaceful memories of the summer of '80. "Yes, er, did you ask me a question?"
"Well, I only wondered whether I smelled better or worse than the wolves you have to run around with. Although, your silence is starting to make me worried about the answer."
He knew he should've left her question hanging in the air without reply. But the memory had gotten to him, and Remus couldn't stop the words from spilling out.
"You've got nothing to worry about, Tonks. Believe me, you smell far nicer compared to any of those creatures. Like a field in the summer, or fresh fruit and tea with lemon, and…" Remus let his voice fall off, suddenly conscious about where his train of thought was going.
He hoped, for his own sake, that he sounded more elderly brother than some lecherous old man.
But instead of the disgust that Remus had anticipated, there was only Tonks' smile, her lips revealing him her white, ageless teeth. "You stop there? I sensed a poem coming on. What do you say, Professor," she said with that charming, beautiful grin. "Give me a little more. I want to hear how I remind you of a flower or something pretty like that."
He held his breath; really, what use was it to think about how attractive she was?
"Dora, can't you just be assured that you don't smell like an animal?"
"But you were saying such pretty things bef-, wait. What did you say?"
"That you don't smell like an animal."
"No. Before that." She narrowed her eyes and wiggled her finger at him. "You didn't call me Tonks."
"Nor did I call you Nymphadora. There are certain parts of my body that I still value."
"'Dora' you said. You called me Dora." She canted her head, still smiling in that way that inexplicably charmed Remus. "That's the first time you've called me anything other than Tonks."
This was not true, but he did not expect her to remember that, years ago, the name had slipped out when he had watched her play.
"Er, I hope that hasn't earned me a hex."
She gave him a light punch in his lean gut. "I rather like it. Dora." She nodded and raised her wand. "Remus, from hereto forth, I proclaim that you must forever call me Dora! From now and into the future."
He chuckled. "Oh, do you?"
"Yes. Failure to do so shall earn you a hex. And be warned: I do know all the good ones."
"Pray tell, what would make a hex a good one?"
"Well, for starters, it would change your face into one that resembles an ape."
Remus laughed heartily. "I wouldn't want that to happen."
"Neither would I. And deprive the world of your handsome mug? Never!"
Now, his heart really stopped beating. Handsome? Not in a million years. Not with his scars or his white hairs. Not with the body he possessed now, worn from countless transformations and battles with inhuman beasts.
No one in their right mind would call him handsome. But yet, despite his belief in that one basic fact, here was this young woman, her whole life in front of her, staring at him with shining eyes and a coy smile.
Looking at her, he saw — felt — infinite possibilities, a promise or perhaps hope for something bigger and better than himself.
This was improbable, perhaps impossible, for someone such as himself, part man and part wolf. To the Ministry, he wasn't even a whole person. Not quite the criminal maniac that Sirius was thought to be, but also not the man that a woman like Tonks deserved.
However, even as he thought all of this, even as his mind repeated over and over no, no, no, as if it was a mantra centred around his own inadequacy, Remus locked his gaze on her steadier one. For just one moment, he believed he was a better man.
He had never known anyone else to make him feel that way. He did not deserve it.
"Hold on," she said, bending down to the level of his face. Remus wanted to flinch and look away, but he couldn't. She was Tonks. She was young, smart, energetic, and beautiful—
Not to mention funny as hell.
She was everything Remus wanted. But she'd never want this shell of a man.
Tonks reached out and touched the forelock of his hair with her hand, brushing it away, leaving his skin hot, as if on fire from her touch.
And then she smiled. And Remus noticed how close her lips were.
"Like I said. Your handsome mug." He shut his eyes as Tonks kissed his nose. She paused, gazing at him for a few moments before standing up. "Now, you may go off to play with your Padfoot."
He chuckled. "You sound like my mother. Dora."
His nickname for her clearly pleased Tonks, and Remus decided he needed to continue to call her that, if only to see her face as it looked at that moment. "Well, someone's got to look after you two hooligans. Make sure you don't burn the place down."
Remus stood up and opened the door. "After you, Dora."
Grinning wide at him, Tonks bowed her head and walked past him, and Remus allowed his body to enjoy the charge he felt as she brushed past him, imagining that her hand had reached out to touch his on purpose.