Title: Light My Candle: A Remus/Tonks / Rent Parody

Author: Pheo

Rating: K+

Spoilers: Yes

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: This is my first HP fic, and I simply adore R/T. I usually write CSI G/S. Anyway, after being an obsessive HP fan since Sorcerer's Stone, I've decided to mix a bit with my newest obsession—Rent. Did anyone else see a bit of R/T within the Roger/Mimi dynamic—or are my sister and I simply mental? Okay, I'm on crack. No, really, I'm not, but you might think I am after reading this… The dialogue is completely from the song, "Light My Candle," from the musical Rent—with a few HP alternatives thrown in for good measure!

Light My Candle

Remus waved his hand over the torches in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place with a quick, wordless lumos spell. Tonight was to be the first Order meeting, and as Sirius was in charge of keeping Kreacher in line, Remus was to lighten the house up as much as he could—which was no easy task, given that the dank old pit was called "The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black" for more than one reason. Even after lighting this torch, he had several more to go before the place looked like anything different from Snape's dungeon.

He heard clunky footsteps behind him and grinned. Sirius had taken to transforming into his Animagus form often since he'd arrived back at Grimmauld, and it always brought back pleasant memories from Hogwarts.

"What'd you forget?" Remus turned, smiling, but instead of his old friend, a woman he'd never met stood in the doorway, smiling impishly at him. Her spiky, purple hair flipped over her forehead, and she wore a black Weird Sisters t-shirt over a pair of ripped jeans. Her petite, heart-shaped face was framed by multiple ear piercings. His smile dropped into a gape.

The young woman, who had to be half his age, asked, "Got a light?" She held up a chunky candle that smelled strongly of patchouli. Remus looked at her quizzically. Why on earth was she lighting a candle when there were torches all over the house? He lost his train of thought while looking at her. She was familiar, somehow.

"I know you? You're—you're shivering," he fumbled, trying to place where he had seen the woman before while quickly draping his tattered robes over her.

"It's nothing," the purple-haired vixen replied, while simultaneously sniffing his robes with fervor.

Grinning, she nodded toward the kitchen. "They turned off my heat and I'm just a little weak on my feet. Would you light my candle?" She held the object in question out towards him, but brought it back to herself as he continued to ogle her. "What are you staring at?"

Remus gave a little jump. "Nothing."

She swayed a bit in front of him, looking pleased, as he sheepishly added, "Your hair in the moonlight… You look familiar."

It had been a while since he had associated anything positive with the Moon that plagued him. In fact, he couldn't recall a time when it seemed so…appealing.

Shaking his head quickly, he reached out toward her candle. He mimicked the same gesture he'd made earlier over her candle and it quickly lit, casting a pretty glow over the girl's features. Her eyes seemed to sparkle a thanks at him as she turned to go, but then tripped over what appeared to be absolutely nothing.

Remus reached out to steady her. "Can you make it?" he asked roughly, as her scent clouded his senses. God, what was that beneath the patchouli? It couldn't be chocolate!

She grinned up at him and said, "Just haven't eaten much today. At least the room stopped spinning. Anyway…" She stepped back a little, but he still maintained his grip on her. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Remus said quickly, releasing her and shaking himself a little. How unlike himself he felt! "Your smile reminded me of--"

She rolled her eyes at him, and he noticed that they were so light blue that they were almost white. How peculiar!

"I always remind people of—who is she?" She arched an eyebrow, and her eyes flashed from almost-white to magenta. Of course! A metamorphagus—no wonder! Dumbledore had mentioned that the Order was recruiting one.

"She died. Her name was Lily," he said heavily, still transfixed with her gaze.

Turning her back to him, the woman blew her candle out, and she turned back just as quickly, cheekily reporting, "It's out again."

He shook his head, but managed a chuckle.

"Sorry bout your friend… Would you light my candle?" She held it out towards him coyly, and he swallowed. If he didn't know any better, he'd think this woman was actually coming on to him!

As he relit the wick, he continued to gaze into those shifting eyes, which were now an emerald green. Aphrodite's color. Lust. He could almost feel himself shiver! This was getting out of hand. He'd barely even spoken to a woman in how many years? He cleared his throat. "Well--"

"Yeah. Ow!" The metamorphagus shook her hand painfully, looking down as the candle's wax dripped over her slender fingers. She looked back up at him through thick lashes, and those eyes were golden.

Remus could feel his heart race faster in his chest. "Oh, the wax! It's--"

She grinned lazily up at him. "Dripping," she drawled. "I like it—between my--"

"Fingers," he quickly intercepted. "I figured… Oh well. Goodnight." He bowed to her, turning to light more torches, and she bit her lip as she turned away, placing his robe on the blue settee nearby.

He held his palm over the next torch but couldn't stop thinking about a pair of glowing eyes. He gave a stuttered, desperate laugh—what woman was ever interested in Remus Lupin?—and continued to light the torch.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he smelled a now too-familiar scent. "It blew out again?" he asked, without turning around.

"No, I think that I dropped my stash." She was grabbing about her herself—rather provocatively, Remus thought with a loopy grin—but then something clicked.

He pointed at her. "I know I've seen you out and about when I used to go out." He nodded, remembering her with canary yellow curls, and noticed that her wick was still once again.

"Your candle's out," he told her softly.

She paid him no heed, still searching desperately, beneath the robe she'd worn minutes before. "I'm illin'…I had it when I walked in the door—it was pure! Is it on the floor?"

Remus frowned. The Order had no place for drug addicts. "The floor?" he echoed doubtfully, glancing down.

To his astonishment, the young woman was now on her hands and knees, searching for "her stash," as she'd put it. Her pert little rear end stood up for him to see beneath those tight jeans, and he found himself floundering for a glass of water to drench his dry mouth with.

Her voice sounded amused when she said, "They say I have the best ass this side of Hogsmeade…Is it true?"

Remus swallowed. Hard. "What?"

"You're staring again." She wiggled a bit, as if for effect, but continued in her wild search.

"Oh, no—I mean, you do—have a nice—I mean, you look familiar…" he cringed at his complete vocal suicide.

"Like your dead girlfriend?" This time, there was no amusement behind her words.

Well, not his girlfriend, exactly, but—"Only when you smile," he managed, trying to tear his eyes away from her bent form. "But I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else--"

She glanced up at him. "Do you go to Honeyduke's? That's where I worked—I danced—help me look." She barely looked at him as his face lit up.

"Yes! They used to cover you up" he remembered her posing, nearly nude for the Christmas chocolate display, dripping in his favorite flavored candy with tinsel in her hair as she twirled. He knew that many men had been persuaded into buying chocolate for their wives that year when they were supposed to have bought something else. He himself had spent part of the rent money he'd barely had to begin with on extra candy…

"It's a living," she cut him off. He now remembered that Dumbledore had said the Metamorphagus was also an Auror—surely she didn't want to be reminded of her days as a dancing candy display!

She blew out her candle again as she stumbled across the floor, still looking for her "stash."

Remus couldn't resist. "I didn't recognize you without the chocolate sauce." She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing very well that it was because of her morphing abilities, and not the lack of candy coating, that he didn't recognize her.

She held up the half-burned wax. "We could light the candle." She distractedly eyed the floor again as she repeated, "Oh won't you light the candle?"

Remus sighed, lighting it once more as he admonished, "Why don't you forget that stuff? You look like you're sixteen!"

She gawked at him, slapping a hand on her hip. "I'm twenty-four! But I'm old for my age—I'm just born to be bad!" She grinned beneath hooded silver eyes, and he swallowed. Well, she was older than he'd thought she was…but still! He had no business thinking of a fellow Order member this way!

"I once was born to be bad…" Remus trailed off, thinking of his very first transformations, and then later ones at the Shrieking Shack. "I used to shiver like that…"

She rolled her eyes again, still searching. "I have no heat—I told you."

He shook his head, thinking of the way the werewolf took over before he had the Wolfsbane potion. "I used to sweat…"

She shrugged, still rapt in her search. "I got a cold."

"Uh huh. I used to be feral--" He gasped at what he'd revealed, but she seemed to pay no notice.

"But now and then I like to" she told him softly, and he found himself transfixed.

She gazed up at him, and he knew that she knew, and she didn't seem to care, and by the look in those eyes, she still seemed interested in him, for Merlin's sake! He whispered, "Uh huh."

She finished, "Feel good," and he felt his stomach drop as if he'd fallen straight from the Whomping Willow. Something tugged in his chest and he felt his breathing quicken.

"Here, it—um…" he bent to pick up the object she'd been looking for, and he couldn't help but grin. It was a bar of Honeyduke's finest chocolate.

She looked up sharply, all coyness abandoned. "What's that?" she demanded.

He wasn't about to let this go! "It's a bubble-gum wrapper," he fibbed, tucking it into the back pocket of his ratty tweed pants.

Not believing him in the least, she whispered, "We could light the candle…"

With butterflies in his stomach, Remus could hardly believe himself as he blew out her candle.

She tilted her head at him, and he found himself desperately wanting to taste her neck. "What'd you do with my candle?" she asked huskily.

"That was my last match," he joked brokenly, voice hoarse.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Our eyes'll adjust. Thank Merlin for the Moon…"

He knew exactly what she was playing at. He wasn't going any deeper into that! Bitterness hung from his voice when he retorted, "Maybe it's not the Moon at all. I hear Voldemort's shooting down the street."

She just shook her head at him, easing closer. "Bah humbug." When he made no reply, she reached out to flick a lock of his graying hair, and he felt himself tremble. He would not allow her any closer...

"Bah humbug," she repeated, slipping her deft fingers beneath his, tracing over his scars.

"Cold hands," he murmured, his pulse racing at his throat.

She gazed up at him again. "Yours too… Big. Like my cousin's."

He didn't miss the Animagus reference. Of course his hands were huge—he was a bloody werewolf! He could almost give in to the bitterness that started to eat at his chest—almost, if not for the soft strokes of her hand over last month's freshly-healed scar…

"You wanna dance?" she asked suddenly, huskily.

His eyes grew wide. "With you?" Oh Merlin, what was he doing?

"No—with my cousin," she grinned, nodding to the door. He could see old Padfoot's shadow dancing in the hall, where he laughed at something Bill Weasley had said.

Suddenly, it was all clear. My cousin. He knew exactly who she was now!

He cleared his throat, but his, "I'm Remus," came out just as garbled as he'd intended it not to be.

She toyed with his hand a bit more, giving him a look that told him that she had known all along. She brushed her hand around his waist, and he gave a sharp intake of breath. Could she--?

"They call me," she drew out, encircling his hips with her other arm, and he felt like he was going to faint…

"They call me Tonks…" And before he knew it, the little nymph had reached into his back pocket and taken her chocolate bar back, barely goosing him in the process.

Heart pounding in his ears, he stood, dumbstruck, as she winked at him and turned to saunter out, peeling back a bit of wrapper and nibbling on her stash as she sashayed out.

Before leaving the room, however, she managed to stub her foot on the umbrella stand, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, still gazing after Nymphadora Tonks.