One Order meeting in August, Snape told Remus, sounding delighted, Tonks thought, that he’d be unable to brew Wolfsbane from now on. He’d be at Hogwarts in a month’s time, and he was too busy with important double-agent business in the off-hours. Molly glared at Snape and threatened to talk to Dumbledore.

“Dumbledore agrees,” Snape said, lip curling, “that there are matters more pressing than a werewolf’s sweet dreams.”

Sirius stood up abruptly, his chair toppling over. “Snivellus--”

 “I’ll do it,” interrupted Tonks. “I can make it over here once a month.”

“Really, dear?” said Molly, rather nervously. “Because Professor Snape is perfectly capable of…”

“No, it’s fine. I’m a pretty good potion brewer,” Tonks assured them. “But can we talk about the plan to get Harry and the kids to King’s Cross?”

Sirius sat down, grumbling, and refused to say a word for the rest of the meeting, which went so late even Snape was yawning by the end. Everyone filed out of the kitchen quickly, doubtless anxious to get to bed as soon as possible. Tonks couldn’t leave, though, because Sirius cornered her.

“Can you really brew it?” he asked, a bit fiercely.

“Padfoot, she’s an Auror,” Remus, coming back into the kitchen, smiled at Tonks, and her insides fluttered a little. “Tonks has had to brew very complex potions in training. I’m sure she’s up to the task, for which I’m very grateful. I wish I trusted my own skills enough to brew it myself.”

“It’s no problem,” said Tonks, smiling back at Remus. “I bet you could learn to brew it,” she added. “You can’t be that rubbishy at Potions.”

“We’ll see,” said Remus, “but for now, I’m sure Padfoot will enjoy having monthly visits from a pretty girl.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Sirius, who had already relaxed. “But, oh—yeeeuch—Moony, she’s my cousin!” He went to pour them all Firewhiskeys. Tonks realised she was staying for a drink.

 “I really won’t poison him, Sirius,” said Tonks later, halfway through her second glass. “Seriously, you’ve trusted Snivellus for two years--”

Sirius laughed delightedly. “I like you, Tonks.”

“You’re not supposed to call him Snivellus in Order meetings, Padfoot,” grumbled Remus, splashing his Firewhiskey in Sirius’ direction. He’d become increasingly red around the ears and nose, a look that suited him. He usually looked a bit grey.

“Snivellus is catchy,” said Tonks. “And I like you too, Sirius.” They all grinned at each other, and Tonks couldn’t say what she’d been thinking, which was I like you, Remus.

Sirius got surlier as he got drunker, eventually raving about Harry and Lily and James and Molly and Dumbledore—everything but his real problem, which was that he was alone and trapped and grieving. At some obscene time early in the morning, Remus took him up to bed, shrugging apologetically at Tonks, then walked her to the door.

“Come again,” he said quietly, not wanting to wake up Mrs. Black.

“I’ll be here in two weeks, to brew Wolfsbane,” said Tonks.

“No, I mean, come often.” For a person who’d downed three Firewhiskeys, Remus wasn’t acting very drunk, but he was staring at her earnestly. “He may be a bit of a trial, but Sirius needs family right now. He’s lonely, and I’m fairly certain he already loves you. Since he met you… well, you’ve been a light in his life, these past few weeks, Tonks. You make him feel young again.”

Tonks felt herself blush. “He’s not that old. Neither of you,” she said, looking anywhere but at Remus, “are that old.”

“I’ve always felt old,” said Remus.