Between the pain and the fussing and eventually the pushing, Tonks lost track of time. The pushing was brutal, much more painful than the contractions, and it felt as if she were being split in two; her morphing helped a little, but she was too scared about what it could do to try any more. But bit by bit, it progressed, until finally her son's cries filled the bedroom and her own screams quieted.
Her only indication of what time the baby was born was the pink sky, and once she'd made sure someone had jotted down the time, she laid still and let the process finish.
The pain receded quickly, especially once a squirming little bundle in a yellow blanket was placed in her arms. The moment she saw him, Tonks felt as if her heart expanded, swelling with that sort of instant, indescribable love she'd always heard about, but had never felt, not like this. She nuzzled the top of his head and said softly, "Wotcher."
The baby's brown eyes fell shut, and she looked up at Remus, beaming. "He looks just like you, doesn't he?"