If I'd had it my way, things wouldn't have played out differently. Only quicker. Lord knows I've been craving speed! The slow and soft romantic caresses are all well and fine, especially when coming from him, but having to wait so bloody long for them? No, I did not enjoy that.

But then, I'm young. Or that's the excuse he would give for my hurry. He doesn't notice how young, in fact, he is. He thinks that's gone forever. But I know better, always have, and now that he's finally letting me, I can show him too.

At first I was frightened by how much I loved him. Probably because I wasn't expecting it, and I like to be able to expect things. I know people think quite the opposite. "Nymphadora Tonks" they say, "she's as fickle as a breeze." They're wrong. My hair may be, but I'm not. You can't be, not in these times. You have to know where you stand, and keep your footing. So to be floored by this man, who is so different from anything I am and anything I've experienced, yet familiar in an instant and in all ways my compliment - I'm not surprised I shied away from it all at first.

I never did understand all that sentimentality. Oh, I wanted to. There was nothing I wanted more than to want all of that. But I didn't. The tethered feeling to another, the comfort to be found in their arms and their arms only. I never knew it, and thought for certain that I never would.

This was not a problem in my school days, when such attachments can hardly ever be real excusing the occasional soul mate. There was only really one time when it – shall we say, irked me?

It wasn't going to be my first night spent with a boy. And bugger, we all know it wasn't going to be the last. Not that I'm any sort of slag, mind you, but I wasn't as 'uptight' as some of these girls nowadays. This bloke was sore about his girlfriend shattering his heart, and we were friends – both in the same year at Hogwarts and both in the same house – those bonds tend to hold rather strongly. And I really wanted him to feel better, and I really needed my own needs fulfilled.

"Here," I said, morphing then and there. "Pretend I'm her." And I stood before him the image of his girlfriend, Patty Something-Or-Other. She moved to France shortly after leaving school. I haven't heard from or of her since. Can I already be forgetting her face?

But that night her face was my face, and he started out just fine with the arrangement. About halfway through though, he stopped, and he had tears going down his face. "I'm sorry," his voice came out gruffly. "You just – you smell like lilacs. You don't smell like her."

He ran out of my dormitory, luckily so quiet that it allowed my roommates to stay asleep, and avoided my eye every day since then. I told myself I didn't care, and I suppose that I didn't, really. But it was certainly annoying. Annoying that it happened to me, annoying that he was so gone on her. When I did the exact same thing a few years later I blushed the deepest crimson I ever have before! Yes, he's always taking me by surprise, without ever knowing it.

If I'm to be honest, I don't remember when I realized that I desired him. I only knew that every time he said goodnight after an Order meeting, I felt a sudden loss. Then, since he was going underground with the other werewolves, he abandoned his flat, and stayed with Sirius at Grimmauld Place when he was surfaced. I found reasons to linger there after the meetings. Sirius and I got on sportingly, like we both knew we would, but he was so smug, as though he knew the real reason I liked to stay behind.

One night, after about four months of this mess, he had stayed later for the company of Sirius, and I had stayed for his company. He left the kitchen to grab a book, and I followed him, Sirius winking to me when he saw. Buggar was always too observant, but as far as I know he had kept his mouth shut, so I forgave him.

"You know," I said to him, trying to be cheeky, but dammit if I didn't blush like all hell while I spoke to him. "Remus, I have strange urge to ask you to kiss me." His eyebrows raised. This was an admittedly strange way to begin a conversation. "But only if you want to." I added.

There was a moment I thought he would refuse me. Why wouldn't he, after all? I'd never mentioned my feelings, and though I admit I had felt his eyes on me at times, it could really have meant anything. And I decided I wouldn't care if he did refuse me. But as fast as that moment came, it passed, and I was suddenly pressed between him and the wall. I was dizzy with the scent of him, so bloody close to me, but damn he was not close enough!

"I want to" he whispered gruffly, and then had his lips on mine. It was -

- over far too quickly.

Literally, a second could not have passed. His lips had touched mine, but Merlin, they'd barely grazed! Then there was a respectful two feet of distance between us, and the bloody fool was apologizing, and muttering something about a meeting, and seeing me later that week, and he was gone.

I hadn't moved. I couldn't move. Merlin, I was hardly sure any of it had happened at all. But the wall was cold on my back, so that was real. And my arms had red prints where he'd held me before - did he know about that grip of his? - and they may even bruise later. That was also real. My brain was still foggy with his raw, manly, and still warmly gentle scent. Please, gods, tell me that was real! Last of all, though it'd been such a short and hardly sweet kiss, it couldn't be denied that my lips still tingled, that his had been there, and that, thank whoever would have accepted my thanks, that most certainly had been real.

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Of course, I wouldn't let that be the end of it. And I know even he is grateful that I didn't. I can't be blamed for taking a bit longer than expected before my next move. If I'd never been shy before, I supposed I was making up for it now.

Even with my haste, I was still set aback after that kiss. I don't know what it was that I had expected to happen - maybe I never expected anything. If I had, it either would have been a kiss or a denial, so I think that having received both, I was accurately jarred for the time being.

Three torturous weeks went by where he was underground, and the Order meetings admittedly fell upon my deaf ears. Kingsley caught me up, though he kindly never questioned why. Then a month came where he was home, and Order meetings this round were filled with him refusing to make eye contact, but the bastard would still sit next to me, pass by my way, as though torturing me with an opportunity to catch his scent.

Sirius caught on to it, as the nosy prick always will!

After an Order meeting a week from Christmas, most of the usual lot had cleared out, and all the children were away on the upper levels. He was chatting with Sirius in the parlor. I happed to be walking by. "She's dead gone on you, you know," Sirius was telling him. Bugger, was I so terribly obvious? I barely know my own feelings for myself, and here the entire fucking Order is taking bets.

"She isn't," he tells Sirius gruffly. "Why on earth would she be?"

"You make it no easier on yourself, mate. Encouraging her like you do." He was encouraging me?

"I most certainly don't encourage her!" Maybe not...

"Come off it! Sitting so close, tryin' to smell her hair, sneaking peaks when you think there's no one looking."

"I'm just trying to peg that intoxicating scent," he mutters embarrassed. "If I can't figure it out with this blasted nose, what can it possibly be?"

"Lilac, Remus," Sirius says. "Tonks has always smelt like that, her mum was telling me, ever since she was a toddler. Knocked over her mum's potions cabinet mixed about with her perfumes. She has to cover it up with stronger scents when she has to morph for a mission, but most days its just a soft, lilac breeze when she moves."

"Lilac," he sighs. "And something else, delicate, feminine."

"Maybe it's want, for you." Sirius teases vulgarly.

"She wants me as much as I could want Kreature" he snaps.

"Oi, stay away from the damned elf in that case, Remus, because you must want him pretty bad." they both laugh, though Sirius's is much heartier. "Tonks," he adds, "she isn't a bad egg for all that clumsy."

"I don't doubt it."

"Sharp as a tack!" Sirius continues. I'll have to thank him for this, if it's doing any good. "And I saw her natural form when she got caught in a drunken dare once."

"She must be pretty, I have no doubt."

"Lovely, mate," Sirius says in a bout of sincerity for once. My cousinly affection had never been so warm. With a trace of wisened laughter in his voice, he asks him, "What are you afraid of?"

And here was where my luck ran out. I admit that I had been worried how long I could hide there, trying to learn all I could about this darling, frustrating man. I'm still not sure how I managed to fall over. I think I had tried to lean closer to the door to hear better, but in any event I hit my head on the door, and found myself on my bum a moment later.

I tried to stand quietly, though I heard them rustling and moving towards the door. I morphed before I even thought about it.

"Molly?" he said when he opened he door, for of course he had to open the door. And I was surprised, until I saw that my hands had changed into the plump working hands of our mother-to-all. Damn my panic. Anyone else would've just apparated. Well, anyone else wouldn't have even fallen over...

"Wotcher, Remus." I mumbled out. Dammit! Am I a fucking auror or not? His eyebrow rose, puzzled, and I tried to recover. "This 'lingo' of the youth floating about, I don't much care for it, you see."

"Indeed," he said, unconvinced, with laughter in his smoky eyes.

"If I may," I was undeservedly bold; all I'd done so far is bugger up any chance I had of him taking me seriously. "I couldn't help but overhear you fellows, about a certain young lady you were discussing," I gave what I hoped to be a perfect imitation of Molly's knowing smile.

"Molly Weasley!" he exclaimed scandalized. "I never took you for one to eavesdrop."

"Now, now, you can't be accusing me of dropping any eaves, Remus, I'm only looking out is all. And it sounds like you're torn up inside, dear."

"Is there anything new about that?"

"There is with the turmoil being over a girl, Remus. A lovely girl, for all of that." I tried quirking my eyebrow. "And Sirius is quite right, dear, the whole house and ruddy Order can see she's mad for you. Just about as mad as you are for her, eh?"

He laughed. "Molly, perhaps the middle of a war is no place for you to be playing matchmaker." he held out for my hand when I stumbled as I always bloody do over that umbrella stand. But he got too close. "Lilacs?"

"Oh, lilacs?" I laughed airily. "spent the morning in my garden - that scent'll linger, it will."

"In December?"

"Well, am I a witch of aren't I, Remus? You think I'll allow something like the frost to send off my garden?" he was not convinced. There was no fooling him, damn him! He'd known right from the off. "I had best be going. Any messages for Arthur while I'm out?"

"Only that we wish him a speedy recovery." His smile was too bloody knowing! But I loved him being that close. "The usual."

"Of course." Hoping it would have just enough Molly in it to let it slide, I reached up and touched his face. Why couldn't this be my daily rite? "Thank you, dear" I said. "Goodnight, Remus." And I left out the front door.

I waited what I hoped was a safe five minutes until I snuck impressively silent into the doorway and apparated into one of the many spare bedrooms upstairs. I morphed back to the heart-face, pink-haired shaped they all knew of late to be me, and crashed onto the bed, trying to forget the world, but dammit if the face of my world didn't keep appearing behind my lids.

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When an hour had passed with that mess, I decided I was too restless to keep lying there. I wished, possibly for the first time, that I had a closer girl friend. I was always one of the boys, but you can't go to boys with this sort of thing. Molly and I had a strange comradeship, but I would only be reminded of my earlier foolishness if I went to talk with her. There were the girls upstairs? They were young, but the war threw them into a maturity they wore well. Besides, we did get on rather well. And my options had grown thin; if I didn't find someone to confide in, I may do something stupid. Like find him, and make him shag me mad 'til morning.

Yes, it would be better to talk to the girls.

And so, feeling silly for neither the first or last time that night, I sought out Ginny and Hermione. They'd already left Harry and Ron behind for the night, so I knocked on their door, and asked timidly when Ginny answered, "Care for a chat, girls?"

They were surprised, but kind, and we sat together on the floor by the fire, leaning against the bed posts. Merlin, but they were a fine pair of girls! We were silent for a while. But it was a nice silence.

"I'm not sure who else I could've talked to," I tried beginning. "I'm of that sad, strange, and scarce generation. Just old enough to know some of the terrors from the first round of war, so many of the families left, or simply didn't survive the war. My seventh year at Hogwarts boasted the lowers numbers these last three centuries - myself and two other girls, for Hufflepuff. The other houses just as skimpy. So I don't have a footing to call my own, plus my own unavailability to bond with my sex. I've never had just a gab. I don't know how, but tonight, girls, I have a hankering for one."

"I don't know that we're the girls for a gab," Hermione said.

"In that case, we won't tell if we do it wrong." They smiled. "I am feminine enough to guess the three of us here have something in common." They wouldn't guess. "A certain frustration with the wanker lucky enough to have caught our attention." And here they both blushed and denied things furiously.

"I'm seeing Michael Corner." Ginny insisted. "Ravenclaw."

"And it's working, by the way," I offer laughing, "Getting Harry's attention." she blushed deeper and tried stammering a denial. "Oh, he doesn't know it's happening, and it may take another boyfriend or two before he notices how painful it is not to have you around, but he watches you closer than ever, and his eyes are hungry."

"He's only had eyes for Cho. Kissed her right before we came here," Ginny argued still, and Hermione looked a bit sorry she had told Ginny that.

"And I'm sure you kissed your Ravenclaw all the same." I argued back. "and you, Hermione." I turned to her, "That Ronald Weasley is more taken with you everyday, though he'd die before he'd say so."

"Because he's ashamed?"

"Tut, no!" Here I did laugh at her, though I didn't mean it unkindly. "I'm not sure why between afraid you'd reject him or afraid he doesn't deserve you, but he's noble enough by his fiber to have a grand reason like that."

"So I should be patient?"

"See, I'm not one for advice like that, because virtue though it is, I hate patience. I don't have an ounce of it! More than anything, I'd love to tell you to march up to your men and have a good snog out. But a great many terrible things may happen, and I'd hate to be the blame for that. Gin, for example, you say Harry's set his cap for this Cho, so snogging him now would set you back. But once he's run his course with her, and you've played your cards, he'll see you sitting there one night, and he'll realize that what he has felt all this while when you were near him is that feeling we're all supposedly searching our lifetimes for."

"So that's why we're here gabbing?" Hermione laughed. "To help you exercise your own patience?"

"Too right," I admit. "Brightest witch of your age," and a wink slips out.

"Tonks," Ginny asks, "This all sounds like grand advice and everything. But it's rather too serious for you - sounds like something you'd usually call bosh."

"Oi, I know all too well!" I tell her. "Bloody wanker makes me feel serious. Makes me want to stop and reflect. Before I just buzzed about, but now I listen more, and it's probably a change for the better, but I don't think vulgar Tonks is all through yet."

"Now, you were never vulgar! Just... lively?" Ginny assured me. "Lupin likes when you're around."

"He looks less weary, more assured." Hermione added. "And he's far more likely to smile or laugh." I thank them for that. I feel better knowing at least that this - whatever it is - is not all in my head.

"Am I so obvious as everyone makes it sound?" I asked them quietly.

They looked as though they might've laughed, but caught it in time. "We can see it because we like to watch the changes you two make without seeing it." Ginny answered. "Mum certainly knows, and Sirius must know."

"Dumbledore likely knows too," Hermione laughed, and I'm not sure if she's joking, because it's probably true.

"Everyone would know if they thought about it for a moment, but I suppose there's just far too much else going on."

"I suppose this was all too dreary for a 'gab'. Morality and assurance. But I think for being our first go, it really went rather well."

I think I remember them agreeing with me. What I remember for sure and certain is having decided I must speak to him that night.

For all that had gone on, it wasn't all too late yet, not even past ten. I worked late the next day, and saw no reason why I should put this encounter off any longer. He would be going back underground soon. Was the full moon in three days, or four? I had made it a point to know of late when it would be, but the blasted night had put me out of sorts.

I had said goodnight to Hermione and Ginny, and thanked them, and damn if I didn't see twinkles in their eyes as though they knew just what I was up to.

I passed Sirius in the hall, him just coming down from visiting Buckbeak. Him and that bloody beast...

"Tonks! Here late," he said.

"Been chatting with the girls." I told him. "Girl stuff and all."

"Oh!" he chuckled. "Girl stuff about boy stuff?"

"Search me, Sirius, it may have been about hair care potions for all you know," ah, but he knew better. Could he see through everyone like this, or just me? For Merlin, it was annoying.

"I was having a chat myself earlier, as a matter of fact."

"You don't say?"

"Boy stuff about girl stuff."

"Any new findings?"

"Your scent is intoxicating." he laughed. "But then, you knew that."

I couldn't think of anything to say to him. So I said nothing. "You're going to go talk to him?" he asked under my blush.

"Bollocks, I want to!"

"Know what you're going to say?"

"Not a bloody clue." I admit, thankful he didn't seem to be trying to stop me.

"Probably for the better," he told me. "You may've gotten tongue tied trying to make sure you said everything. Just remember," he put his hands on my shoulders, "You are part of the noble and most ancient House of Black," he grimaced wickedly. "But you are also a Tonks," he winked. "And that'll be your saving grace."

Yeah, Sirius was more than worth keeping around.

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I stood in front of his door longer than I'm even now sure of. I guess that then I was mostly afraid of the fact that I didn't know what to expect. What did I even want? Him? If I wanted that, that sentiment - love? - and I wasn't bloody certain if did, I was certain I would want it with him. Now? Yes, please now. I hate waiting. Right now? Sure!

I opened the door, not even thinking perhaps that I ought to knock. But he wasn't even in bed; he was sitting in an armchair by the window, reading. It was such a darling scene, with the snow swirling in the window behind him, the shadows blurring his scars, and for a moment he looks so sad I want to cry. But he looks up from his volume, sees me, and smiles. There isn't a trace of that sadness.

His smile stops me in my tracks, and I forget all my plan before I remember that there was no plan at all.

"Nymphadora," he said, and I don't even remember if it annoyed me or not. "You're here rather late."

I don't say a word. I don't move.

He stood and set down the book. "Something I can help you with?"

"Good reading?" I ask, finding my tongue, but not my sense.

"Very good," he says with a laugh. "A Night Amongst Mortals, haven't read it since my school days."

"What's it about?"

"Just a wizard classic: a man lives with muggles, learns from their folly. Just now, John's fallen for a muggle who's terribly close to finding him out."

"How's it end?"

"Ah, I can't tell you that!" he cries, but I beg him softly. "Happily," is all he says. Noticing I've stood too all this while, he gestures for me to his chair, while he sits at the edge of his bed.

"Remus," I ask him, "We are friends, aren't we?"

"Of course," he answers.

"I like being around you." Damn, was I really this awkward, you may be wondering? I'm sorry to say I certainly was.

"Well, me too. You're a lot of fun," he tells me. "We need fun nowadays, and you're a fair site less fatalistic than some of the others." He paused for a moment, likely considering just what can of worms he may be opening with this talk. "Is there something bothering you lately?"

"Buggar, yes, Remus, there is." Goodbye, remaining semblance of patience. I stood up, and got so close to him that my head was buzzing. "You're frustrating me to no end, Remus, and I don't rightly understand why. I like when I can hear you laugh. It feels like some sort of present. And I like having you close, even if for some reason you won't look directly at me. I like how focused you always are. I like how focused you make me want to be. I like how calmly you explain things; like you're always teaching. I like your face and your shoulders and your graying hair." I took a breath. "But I don't like when you have to leave us for so long, or when you look so ashamed about your condition, or when you kissed me then pulled away so quickly." I flung my arms around his neck, and kissed him proper.

It was as our first kiss ought to have been. Heated and passionate, but lingering. His arms were strong and certain around my waist, pulling me closer. I reveled in the taste of his tongue and my fingers tugged at his amber locks. Merlin, it should've gone on forever.

He pulled away for a moment, and leaned his forehead against mine. But his hold hadn't let up any. "Nymphadora-" he began.

"-It's just that," I cut him off, "the way that I feel when you're around, is so much better than the way that I feel when you aren't." My breath was ragged.