By Going On
Title: By Going On
Rating and warnings: R - please note deals with death and grieving.
Prompts: Cauldron, Day of Promise, Alternate Universe
Word Count: 8202 words
Summary: She dimly heard Remus’ voice. “It’s just confusing because we’ve…” His voice faltered, then went on. “Because we’ve lost a day. Dora. Don’t you remember?” Remus and Tonks have survived the Battle of Hogwarts, but is the cost going to be too high?
fthpfthpfthp very kindly did a fantastic picture from this fic at her LJ, which can be found here. Many thanks to her.:D
Author's Notes: Originally written for the Autumn Moonlight Jumble at metamorfic_moon, October 2008, and dedicated to godricgal without whose help it would almost certainly not have been posted when it had to be. The basic premise is what if the Battle of Hogwarts ended exactly as it did in Deathly Hallows - "Remus and Tonks, pale and still and peaceful-looking, apparently asleep beneath the dark, enchanted ceiling" - but they were later found to still be alive? This is an attempt at imagining what the next few days might have been like...
By Going On
For a moment, it was like the start of any other day.
There was the warmth of Remus’ body next to her, the sure, steady sound of his breathing and the knowledge that when he woke she’d slide across the bed and into his arms which would be waiting for her. She’d feel his soft mouth tasting the dawn light on her skin and hear him murmur good morning to their growing child as his hand rested on her stomach with a sense of awe that made her laugh. They’d talk of things which ranged from gossip to daftness to downright lunacy and all the way back again, but they mattered most because they were shared and for them alone. And because they’d push away a world outside this room gone stark, staring mad for just that little bit longer.
She rolled her head over on the pillow to look at him and found him already watching her. She’d no idea how long he’d been doing so, but as he gazed at her with troubled eyes across a wide expanse of white sheets she became aware of the stabbing ache in all parts of her body, the hush of the room and, beyond that, of the house itself. There was no answering smile on his long narrow mouth.
Reality flooded back like a blast of icy cold air. She’d been remembering the past. Weeks ago. Before Teddy. Before…
“Dora.” He raised himself with an obvious effort onto one elbow and reached out a hand towards her. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” At the first touch of his fingers against her cheek she clumsily shoved back the bedclothes and swung herself to her feet. Caught her breath at the protest of seemingly every muscle she’d got.
“Dora, wait-”
“I need to see-”
“He’s fine.” Remus gestured to the cradle at the foot of the bed, but she was already hobbling frantically towards it, stubbing her toe painfully on the corner of the bed. Stopping only at the sight of Teddy sleeping peacefully before her, a tiny bubble escaping from his pursed lips.
“I’ve been checking on him,” Remus said. The words sounded reassuring and he was smiling at her now, but Tonks felt an unspoken rebuke as she stared at his face, the lines of exhaustion standing out clearly on the side lit by the sun. You’ve slept and put yourself first. What kind of mother are you?
She glanced around wildly for the time and couldn’t believe it when she saw it.
“You only fed him a couple of hours ago.” She dimly heard Remus’ voice. “It’s just confusing because we’ve…” His voice faltered, then went on. “Because we’ve lost a day. Dora. Don’t you remember?”
Oh, she remembered. Apparating home from St. Mungo’s, neither of them in fit state to do so and clinging to each other for support. Standing for a moment to recover and then hearing the unmistakable cry of their child, which made them both run up the drive like mad things. The agony of waiting as she and Remus struggled to undo all the protection spells while Teddy’s cries turned to screams of rage. Beating her fists against her sides as Remus growled I know, I know through clenched teeth, and his wand scythed viciously through the air. Catching her sleeve on the gate as she finally threw it open, charging up the staircase with her breasts hurting like hell because they were so heavy and full, and flinging herself into their bedroom where her mother was walking up and down clutching Teddy to her, his tiny frame stiff and scarlet with fury.
She remembered tearing at her shirt, ripping out the sodden pads from her bra, and then Remus was there, briefly embracing his mother-in-law before settling Teddy in the crook of Tonks’ arm as Andromeda sank unsteadily onto the nearest chair. Teddy made blind, frantic movements of his head before he found the breast, squirming rigidly in her hands. Then, suddenly, he drank, his body softened and relaxed and Tonks felt a mutual sigh of drawn-out relief pass between them. The dark eyes with the amazingly long sweep of lashes - so like his father’s - flickered upwards to meet hers with a look of acknowledgement and absolute trust.
About time, the look said, as the thick brown tuft of hair started to turn a bright contented turquoise. Where’ve you been then?
Oh, she remembered all right. Looked at Remus and saw he remembered it too.
“We have to talk about… everything,” she said as he stared unseeingly at her, his brow furrowed as if seeking the answer to something he didn’t understand.
“I need to see Harry,” he said, and then belatedly seemed to realise what she’d said. “Oh, yes. Of course we do.” He added, with a visible effort at his normal tone, “It’s not every day you get to be presumed dead, after all.”
She nodded, half-smiled, and then gave up trying to. It wasn’t that which bothered her half as much as something else. Or, she thought, bothered him as he turned away from her to reach for his clothes.
The sun streamed in through the window, promising a glorious day ahead. At that moment, the cost of being alive to see it felt as if it might be too high.
Talking was fast turning out to be the one thing they weren’t able to do. Not at St. Mungo’s and not here, in her parents’ pretty blue and lemon kitchen in the same chair where she’d sat long ago and eaten vast amounts of raw cake mix while her mother baked. Because how did you have a conversation about anything only twenty-four hours after fifty people, many of them children, had died at Hogwarts?
It even felt wrong to smile.
“It’s nice to have the newspapers back again. One small sign of normality at least, especially after so long without them or without them printing all that ludicrous propaganda for You-Know-Who.” Andromeda said it briskly over a breakfast full of silences and the frequent interruption of Patronuses from the Order. Tonks’ favourite so far was Hestia’s dachshund, which dashed up to her with its tail wagging madly, and said, “Holy crap! You’re alive! I’m so HAPPY!” Tonks had sent hers back saying, “Good because you’re getting the first round in when we see you next. And being dead doesn't half make you thirsty!”
“Oh dear God.” Andromeda looked up.
“What?” Tonks gave up all pretence of eating.
“They’ve listed all the…” Andromeda stopped. Tonks caught sight of the headline proclaiming Day of Victory! “All those who died. I thought it was Fred Weasley? It was, wasn’t it? They’ve printed George Weasley in error down here, instead. As though that poor family haven’t got enough to bear.”
“Those bastards never do get anything right,” Tonks said bitterly as Remus, returning to the kitchen just in time to overhear, swore softly under his breath, and she tried desperately not to think that this was the last time anyone was going to confuse the twins’ freckled faces again. Nor did she want to think about that last glimpse of Fred’s which she’d had. “Was that Kingsley?”
“Yes.” He gulped down his tea. “I have to go.”
“Right. ‘Cos you’re in such a great state yourself. You’re limping worse and didn’t the Healers mention cracked ribs and at least a dozen other things I can think of?”
“I’m all right, Dora.” He looked at her then, a brief hard look that she knew of old, and which she hated because it said that she understood why he needed so badly to do this and would therefore let him. “There’s people still unaccounted for at Hogwarts - at least two they know of who fought for Harry and who they can’t find. Their families are suffering terribly. And there’s unrest everywhere with the Ministry in disarray, suspected Voldemort sympathisers fleeing for their lives and reprisals being taken. Looting as well at abandoned houses. Kingsley needs all the help he can get.”
“I could help too-” she started, even as she was thinking there was no way she’d ever leave Teddy willingly again, but he said quickly, “No. Not until I’ve seen how things are. If it’s anything like it was after the first war…” He shook his head.
“What?”
“People have very short and selective memories, especially if they have reason to be ashamed of their own behaviour,” he said. He cast a quick look at Andromeda’s bent head and added softly, “It’s sometimes easier to blame someone else for your own misjudgements than it is to face up to them. Besides, you’re still married to a werewolf. We’ll have to be careful for a little while.”
“You fought for Harry!” She tried to keep her voice as low as his, but it rose with fury as she followed him towards the doorway. And you all but died for him. “And the werewolves didn’t fight.”
“Greyback did. We’re a day behind everyone else, remember, and things have moved on apace. Rumour will be feeding rumour and running wild by now.” He smiled grimly. “As one jaw closes, another jaw opens. Kingsley says there are notices saying death to Dark creatures all over Hogsmeade.”
She forced herself not to say something about exactly who it was who won the bloody war. “And there was I thinking I’d be able to nip to the shops today, wander round the spring clothing sales to snap up a few bargains and stock the larder up for the first time in months.”
His eyes were intent upon her, a glimmer of amusement showing through the tiredness. “I’m afraid it’s going to be omelette for dinner yet again, unless you can persuade the chickens to lay something else. You can always try that interesting dessert we had last week - carrot cake, didn’t you say it was? Only minus the carrots?”
“Remus-”
“I know.” He put his arms round her and held her hard against him, so hard she could feel the metal of his belt buckle digging into her. His kiss was hard too. “I’ll find a way for you to help.” His lips twitched. “If you don’t beat me to it. Look after our son and yourself. If you promise you’ll both be all right, then I will be too.”
“Yes.” They were the last words he’d spoken to her before setting out for Hogwarts and the guilt stabbed at her. I swear I didn’t come after you to fight, Remus. Just to find out what was happening.
She made herself smile back as she handed him his cloak - because he was never going to see how frightened she was for him and be distracted by it - but the words that came out were exactly the same as the ones she’d said to him before.
“Teddy and I will be waiting for you.”
He nodded, a shadow passing over his face, and then a last touch of her face with his fingers and he was gone. Leaving her to set the security spells and stare after him. Thinking that still coming to terms with being a mother was one thing - as was finding how much joy, fear and exhaustion it brought with it - but the thing she would never get used to was seeing other people doing what she should and could. All before she walked slowly back into the kitchen and found her own mother crying silently over the newspaper in her hands.
Both Tonks and Remus were listed amongst the dead as well.
Remus returned late in the evening, the limp and the strain in his face both worse - there’d been one happy ending to the search, one not - but she gave him ten minutes alone with Teddy laid snuffling (and frequently dribbling) on his chest, which found his smile and hers as she watched them both through the crack in the door. Then she pushed him firmly in the direction of the shower. “You’re a bossy so-and-so, Mrs Lupin,” he said. “Too right I am,” she replied. “You know it was one of the first things you fancied about me.” He grinned, and didn’t disagree, and for a moment there was no barrier between them.
Later on, after her mother had said she needed an early night, they swapped the story of their day over the dreaded omelettes and Tonks tried not to wonder if Remus was leaving out as much as she was. Probably more. She told him she’d written to Molly and Arthur, but not how she’d agonised over every word for so long that it had taken nearly all morning. Of her visitors, headed by one Hermione Granger. How Hermione had been fascinated by the food network set up by neighbours across many miles to help each other survive - the eggs laid by her mother's chickens being exchanged for vegetables, then in turn for meat, fruit and milk and so on and so on, until everyone was responsible for providing something and no one went without. Hermione had said it was similar to how the Muggles had survived during their last war. Except that they’d also had something called ‘ration books’, which Tonks thought sounded like a system open to abuse.
“Hermione’s keen to do something to help people who’ve lost loved ones or their homes or livelihoods,” Tonks said. “Or the lot.”
Remus nodded, stifled a yawn. “Good. It’ll need someone like her to organise it all and not take no for an answer.” He gave Tonks a knowing look. “And how are you helping?”
“I’m working on it.” She grinned.
“That might explain the pile of cauldrons in the hallway then. Weren’t they part of our wedding gifts stored here that you were going to sort one day?”
“I have sorted them, that’s why they’re in the hallway. Hermione says that it's a Muggle joke that when they get married everyone gives them something called toasties or toasters. We don’t need four cauldrons and I thought they might help someone else.”
“Help you get out of cooking, you mean.” He smiled at her. “Our marriage is a bit like a cauldron, isn’t it?”
“How’d you mean?”
“Oh…” He looked surprised by her sharpness. “Just a silly joke. What else did you do?”
“This and that.” She was still thinking about what he’d said. There was no way she was going to tell him that she’d found the letters and photos they’d left for Teddy in the event of something happening to either of them. Remus had said this was something they must do as he always remembered Harry’s face when he said he’d had nothing to bring his parents to life for him. She’d sat and read a random paragraph of hers, told herself there was no need to cry as everything was all right now, and then cried anyway.
I wanted to know you much longer, Teddy, but if you’re reading this then it wasn’t to be. At only a few weeks old, you’ve already taken my heart and that love is going with me, wherever it is I’m going. What does a mother wish for her son? That you’re as happy as I am now. You have a wonderful father and a family who adores you. And you won’t have to deal with an annoying woman with no dress sense, who keeps hugging you in front of your mates when you’re sixteen. But I’ll be hugging you from afar.
She looked up and saw Remus watching her. Waiting for her answer. She wondered what he’d put in his letter.
“I heard Harry’s appeal for calm on the wireless.”
“We thought it might help. The Ministry’s rushing through appointments as well - Kingsley’s heading the Auror department at the moment, but there’s talk of him even being asked to be Minister for Magic in due course. He’s certainly doing wonders there and it looks good on your CV when you’ve kept the Muggle Prime Minister alive for the last couple of years.”
“Too right.” She couldn’t think of anyone better suited for a hell of a job than Kingsley, with his air of quiet calm and absolute authority, but she also couldn’t help wondering if this meant there’d be a job for her back there one day. “And Harry?”
“He’s disappearing for a little while.” He saw her expression and said, “Everyone wants a piece of him and he’s shattered. Kingsley’s worried about his safety, too, as he’s liable to get mobbed if he goes out before things settle down. Harry wanted to see the Dursleys and Molly’s letting Ginny go with him. And if you raise your eyebrows any higher they’ll get stuck by your hairline - Hestia and Dedalus are going to be there too, as bodyguards and, erm, possibly chaperones.”
“Poor old Harry. He defeats Voldemort, but still can’t get any time alone with his girlfriend.” She was going to say that Sirius used to joke that he chaperoned the two of them and a fat lot of good it did, but thought better of it. “Did you talk to Harry?”
“Only briefly, there was always people around. Mainly wanting his autograph and to invite him home for tea. He did say he was never more delighted to be so wrong as he was about us. After he’d stared at me as though I was a ghost.”
Tonks could imagine that: Hermione had stared at her. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” she’d said politely, “but we did all think - do you know how you managed to survive?” And behind her careful words, Tonks could heard the voice of Ron chiming in as well: “We were sure you were goners! It was completely mental when they said you were alive!”
Which was partly why it had been so hard to write to Molly and Arthur. She’d felt as if she should apologise for apparently coming back from the dead when their son couldn’t.
“About the ghost bit.” She shrugged, trying to sound casual and change the frown on Remus’ face which had returned at her mention of talking to Harry. “We made the papers, you and I. First in the list of casualties and then, in the special Evening Prophet edition, we’ve actually got our own headline on page three.”
He blinked at her.
“Oh yeah. We’re ‘The New Chosen Ones - Day of the Werewolf Rising!’”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No.” She pursed her lips. “I’m a bit miffed they’ve got my age wrong and think you’re ex-Professor Rebus Lupin, but I know they must have been in a hurry to get all this out. I do like the ‘close’ friend of ours who described me as the ‘attractive but unconventional ex-Auror’.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Well, the fact they think you married a twenty year old is.” She saw his expression and straightened up. “Look. I’ve been thinking. What you said about the power of rumour and all that - what about if I talk to the reporter whose name is on this stuff. Dickon Aird. His motto is he airs the truth, so let’s give it to him? Set him straight on some things, and see if we can do some good at the same time?”
“Dora, I don’t know-”
She pressed on. “Remus. I know you’re right about us still being careful, but I can’t just sit around all day and worry about my stretch marks. And I want to involve Mum too. There’s a bit about the Ministry doing memorial services for those who’ve fallen in the fight against Voldemort and - and Dad’s name was listed. His story and those of so many like him needs telling. She’s never had time to mourn him.”
“Nor have you.” He said it harshly, almost coldly, and it was only because she knew him so well that she could see the emotion he was hiding. “God, when I think…” He stopped abruptly and passed a weary hand through his hair. “You must be exhausted,” he said, “and if you ache half as much as I do - we’ll talk about it in the morning. Let’s go to bed.”
“But-”
“Bed.” He took her hand and led her towards the staircase. “Our son will want feeding in approximately three hours time and you look as if you’re asleep on your feet.”
She had to acknowledge the truth of this as they skirted the pile of cauldrons and went carefully up the stairs, his arm round her, her head resting against his shoulder. Like old times. It really wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Teddy, if she keeled over now. They both stood and watched him sleeping in his cradle for a few minutes, a ritual they’d fallen into from the day he was born. “We’re a pair of soppy idiots,” she whispered eventually. “I’m not,” her husband said, his words at odds with the fact that he lingered a second or two more. “I’m just checking to make sure he doesn’t snore louder than you do.”
But he’s the son of Chosen Ones. Snoring must be beneath him.
The thought made her giggle as she got into bed. “What?” he said, and she told him and he gave a reluctant chuckle. “That newspaper reporter’s going to want to know if you’ve got a scar on your forehead,” he said, and leaned over on his side to trace a zig-zag there with his finger before kissing her. Lightly at first, but then with an intensity that made her light-headed. She felt as if she’d been trodden on by several Hippogriffs and sex, even if it hadn’t been far too soon after the birth, was the last thing that appealed right now but she wanted his arms round her. She needed to be held so she knew that they’d already survived two crises of his making, and that a third one of hers was not going to be the one to bring them down.
She bit his lip gently and felt it curve in a smile. She moved until she was pressed against him, feeling the heat of his body against hers and expecting him to rest his head down next to hers and his arms to slip round her. Instead his mouth followed the curve of her throat to the softest part where it joined the shoulder and bit down gently. His hand slid down to her waist then her hip, turning her towards him, just as he stiffened and went rigid against her.
He raised his head and stared at her, his face wiped blank of any emotion. “I don’t know what I’m thinking,” he said very softly, “you need to sleep.” And by the time the words had sunk in he’d lain down and rolled onto his side, turning away from her.
As though he’d just remembered he was kissing the woman who’d left their son behind?
His voice came across the wide expanse of bed between them. Very controlled and polite. “Good night, Dora.”
“Good night, Remus.”
There was dead silence.
She put her face in her pillow and listened to the steady breathing of her son and that which was far more uneven coming from her husband.
The next day brought a newspaper bearing the headline Day of Uncertainty! There were several paragraphs dedicated to the stories of families who’d returned home from hiding. “The Ministry’s doing bugger all to help us now we’ve back, and we’re all going to starve and have to cancel our holidays,” said Algernon Faulks, ex-shopkeeper from Diagon Alley, pictured on the front with family, friends and supporters. “Where’s Harry Potter, that’s what we’d all like to know? Bet he’s not worried about where his next meal’s coming from!”
Tonks’ irritation at the number of stupid gits currently shouting their mouths off while people who had suffered far worse were trying to get their lives back together, was tempered somewhat by a Potterwatch broadcast. They’d kept the same name though it was now available to all, and this one featured Kingsley Shacklebolt assuring Mr Faulks (given wireless air to go along with his endless supply of hot), that bed, board and protection were readily available for those in need.
All they had to do was say. Preferably at the address advertised everywhere, rather than the front pages of the newspaper.
“That’s all jolly good then.” Algernon sounded somewhat mollified, right up until he said, “There’s a crowd of us who feel the same, but we didn’t like to speak out at a time like this as there’s all those funerals going on. We were going to do a march or something tomorrow, though, if you didn’t do anything. All stick together like, so you didn’t label one of us as trouble-makers and lock us up. I know how you Ministry-types work.”
“I’m not sure you’ve got quite the right impression there, Mr Faulks,” Kingsley said politely at the same time as the programme announcer, who sounded distinctly like Remus J. Lupin, said it was good to know there was still safety in numbskulls (sorry, numbers), and thanked both of them for their time and Kingsley for his patience.
Tonks punched the air making Teddy, on her lap, blink in sleepy surprise. “Your daddy’s telling ‘em,” she said, and wondered how to keep his daddy in this frame of mind as he still wasn’t keen on her newspaper interview idea. “It’s up to the next generation now,” he’d said, and glared at her when she said they were still the next generation and their son was the next, next one. But if Remus was being the usual stubborn prat, she was further cheered by a basket left later at the end of the drive which, after she’d thrown most of Mad-Eye’s security spells at it, revealed a delicious looking leg of pork wrapped in a now singed tablecloth and a bag of potatoes. Along with a tatty piece of parchment saying simply thanks.
Remus seemed less grim, too, when he came home, as though last night had never been. But he still avoided any discussion about the Battle and Tonks, who rarely saw the point of avoiding something you’d have to face eventually, couldn’t make herself face up to this. In the same way she couldn’t tell him she’d woken up in the Great Hall at Hogwarts and not in St. Mungo’s, like he had.
Cowardice, she thought bitterly, could talk you into anything. As could fear.
“I saw Arthur today.” Remus said round an appreciative mouthful of pork. He reached in his pocket. “Said to say thank you for your letter. Molly sent this for you.”
He handed her a piece of neatly folded parchment. “How is he?” Tonks asked as she opened it.
“Grieving.” She looked up, he was watching her. “You know what this says?”
“Arthur told me.”
“Do you think-” She read it again to make sure she’d got it right. I’m at my wit’s end, Molly had written. “Do you think this is the best place for him? With us and a baby?”
Remus shrugged. “It is if he thinks so.”
The freckles on George Weasley’s face stood out like tiny brown coins against the bleached white of his skin. “Sorry,” he said for the hundredth time since arriving on the front door mat with a small suitcase and standing to one side as though leaving space for someone else beside him. “Don’t mean to put you all out. It’s very good of Mrs Tonks to do this.” He produced a bunch of rather forlorn looking roses, said tiredly, “It’s all right, they won’t spray anything at her,” and Tonks could have wept because she wished so much that they would.
“I couldn’t…” He kept leaving sentences hanging in mid-air, with a look of confusion on his face when no one finished them for him.
“We’re glad to have you.” Tonks smiled and put a mug of hot tea into his unresisting hand. “I love volunteers to change smelly nappies.”
“… bear Auntie Muriel’s. Then we went back to The Burrow…”
“And Teddy always enjoys a good burping competition.”
“… I could have had Gin’s room while she’s away, but that would have been wrong. It was our room. Only I couldn’t…”
“Don’t let your tea get cold.”
“…go in there. And Mum keeps crying.” He looked at Tonks, his hand wrapped tightly round the mug which surely must be burning it, and she thought she’d never seen anyone quite so lost.
“What do I do?” she said to Remus later on, knowing George was sat in the armchair downstairs gazing into space, while her mother, who had enough grief of her own, tried to make conversation. “What do I say?”
“Just talk. Or be quiet when he wants you to. Make him eat and keep him busy. Get him fixing all those jobs round the house that Andromeda wants done. Let him help with Teddy. I’ll try and get him even more involved with Potterwatch as Kingsley hasn’t got time any more.” He hesitated. “With your father, we all kept going because Teddy was coming and we had a purpose. Something that still gave life meaning and gave Ted’s life meaning. But George-” He stopped.
She nodded, understanding what he was trying to say. “Is that what it was like for you,” she asked suddenly, “after the first war? Trying to find a reason to go on?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“But you did.”
“Eventually. I had good friends still in the Order, and a family who cared about me. I thought James and Lily would never forgive me if I gave up. And their son was out there and if I felt as if I’d lost everything, then he’d lost even more. So there was someone who understood.”
She wondered if he thought that that was why George had come here, even if he didn’t realise it himself. It was right what he’d said about her dad: there’d been the terrible moment when they’d learned Ted was dead - and how he’d died - and then she’d retreated into the existence of her baby to give it all some sense where there was none. Her dad would have been the world’s proudest grandfather and taught Teddy how to cheat at card games and leave fluff from woolly socks all over the house to annoy granny.
She looked at Remus. “Is it true what they say - it gets better with time?”
He hesitated and she thought for a moment he was going to say something reassuring, as he would have done before their marriage and even in the early weeks of it. Before she thought she’d finally convinced him that protecting her from everything was ultimately a kind of dishonesty.
“Yes - and no.” He reached for her hand. “Very slowly it stops being the only or the main thing in your mind, but you hurt in a different way. You mind for the person who’s gone, that they’re never going to see this.” He sighed. “I spent a good ten minutes yesterday imagining what James and Sirius would have said to Algernon Faulks.”
His words were still in her head when they attended the first funeral, for a boy by the name of Colin Creevey, who Remus had taught. In fact, he had photographs which Colin had taken and given to him, and he’d brought some to the service to give to Colin’s parents. They included one of Remus in his office at Hogwarts with a Grindylow pulling hideous faces in its tank behind him. There was a huge turnout and moving speeches from both Minerva McGonagall and Neville Longbottom. Tonks was glad she’d gone for burgundy hair as she thought a boy who seemed to live his life watching others through a camera lens might appreciate some colour amongst all the black robes. She stepped outside with George, Remus having gone to talk to Harry and been lost in the crowd gathered round him.
“Fred’s isn’t for a week and a bit,” George said.
“Right. Well, I suppose…”
“Yeah. There’s a queue.” George was kicking pebbles harder and harder into the grass at his feet, and rescue came for Tonks in the shape of a tall black girl who came up and hugged him fiercely without a word.
“What would you say to a drink?” she said, drawing back and looking at him.
Something worked in George’s face, a muscle or something, Tonks wasn’t sure which. “I’d say… don’t get too comfortable in that glass.”
The girl’s face changed too; for a moment she seemed to laugh, then cry, then do both together in a choked little sound. “Come on then,” she said.
George looked at Tonks. “You go,” she said. “I’ll wait for Remus. But don’t be a dirty stop out-” Her voice faltered as she wondered if what she was saying could be any more inappropriate for a funeral, but then she thought sod the proprieties, it was more important to say what was needed, and so she carried on. “It’s mushroom omelettes all round tonight so don’t be late.”
George nodded. His freckles were less noticeable today in the bright sunshine and he’d swept his hair back, making no attempt to hide the dark hole where his ear had been. Tonks wasn’t sure how much good they were doing him, but having a guest around to look after was helping her mother in some way. Tonks hadn’t consciously missed all the little pot plants and knick-knacks on the window ledges, the notes and photographs stuck neatly on the cork board in the kitchen, but she’d noticed this morning that they were back.
“You’ll be all right?” George asked her.
“Yes, I’m going to sit on that bench over there in the sun.”
He nodded. “About the funerals - I reckon Fred would say they were saving the best till last.”
“Me too.”
She sat down on the bench and closed her eyes, feeling the sun warm her face and ease the aches she still felt all over. Thought of Teddy, at home with her mum, and how hard it had been to leave him. Thought of how George had said that one of the reasons he couldn’t bear to go home was because he’d have to sort through Fred’s things. Mad-Eye had had no family so she’d gone over there with Remus and seen the tiny house he’d lived in, with a weapons chest in the front room. Upstairs had been the worst, feeling like a trespasser in the bedroom and bathroom seeing things she was never meant to. His dressing gown was hanging on the door, and there was a used razor blade in the soap dish of the basin where she could see the dark bristles of his shave. There was a dent in the pillow on the bed and she thought for a moment about putting her face where his head had lain and screaming.
At least she could understand his death, come to terms with it. Mad-Eye would have been disgusted if she hadn’t got on with things. But her father’s was more difficult to accept. Sometimes it seemed to her that the giving of his life was a heroic gesture of courageous love, at others she thought she’d never understand how he came to do what he did.
It was very quiet and hot on the bench. Tonks didn’t hear anything until a voice said, hesitantly, “Nymphadora?”
She looked up and saw Minerva McGonagall watching her.
“Wotcher.” There was no sense of surprise, almost as if she’d been sat there waiting for her.
“Are you all right?”
“Mmm. Sit with me?”
Minerva settled herself down, not quite looking at Tonks, who said, “You made a nice speech. I feel as if I know Colin a bit now.”
“I’ve just been speaking to his parents.” Minerva sniffed, patting her pockets. “Though what can you say… I sent him away, you know. He was too young. They all were. And he came back.”
“I always wonder,” Tonks passed her one of Remus’ handkerchiefs, “why men have such big hankies when we’re the ones who do the crying?”
Minerva blew her nose, smiled a watery smile. “A few tears were being shed over you two.”
“Yeah.” Tonks felt as if this was another moment she’d been waiting for. “I wanted to thank you. I wasn’t really… with it in the Great Hall, and it wasn’t until I was at St. Mungo’s that they told me it was you who’d found us.”
“It was my duty.” Minerva sat up a little straighter. “I knew I’d have to tell the parents. So Poppy and I were - were checking everyone, and you and Remus were lying together and looked so peaceful.”
Tonks felt as if her voice was coming from somewhere far away. Almost nothing to do with her. “How did you know?”
“It was your hair, Nymphadora.”
“My-” Of all the things she’d imagined, this had never even crossed her mind. “My hair?”
“It was pink.” Minerva was twisting the handkerchief round and round in her hand. “I remember a girl in my class, many years ago now, telling me that she couldn’t hold a morph when she was ill and how much harder it was if she was tired or asleep as it took energy. And so I - I simply couldn’t imagine how - and then Poppy said she thought there might be the faintest of pulses though she couldn’t be sure and, well, we went a bit mad. Because no one survives Avada Kedavra, do they?”
“No.” Not unless you’re Harry Potter.
“Poppy worked on you and then there definitely was a pulse, and we thought we might be hearing one in Remus, too. Only it was hard to tell by then because, as I say, we were a little demented.” She looked at Tonks. “You remember?”
“Only voices. Everything was hazy. Like a dream.” Except when someone - Hagrid? - lifted me up and I saw Fred’s face with those staring eyes and that fixed grin…
Then it was a nightmare. As was waking up in St. Mungo’s and gradually realising what had happened, and why the corridors were overflowing with the injured and their relatives. Sitting with Remus for what seemed like hours while they kept telling her to lie down, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she knew they'd both be going home to their son.
“So…” Minerva’s voice was a hushed whisper. “It’s so wonderful, Nymphadora, but… do you know how?”
There was movement behind her; she knew who it was even before she turned her head to see.
“You woke up in the Great Hall amongst the bodies?” said Remus and his face was creased in such pain she couldn’t bear to see it.
She could run, she’d always been able to run. Other girls were hampered by boobs or hips or both, but Nymphadora Tonks had always been able to run faster than them all.
Of course, that was before she’d had a baby. Before the terrible sense of foreboding and dread that had led to her following Remus after the Patronus from Kingsley had arrived to say the Order were gathering at Hogwarts. And once there, the feeling had grown even worse - she knew that he’d sacrifice himself without a second thought because that was the man he was. He’d die for her and Teddy to give them a chance to live. How could she look her son in the face when he was grown and say she’d stood by and not saved his father when she could?
And so she ran to find him. A side-splitting run that winded her at every step, her breath coming in huge gasps.
There were voices behind shouting her name - it sounded like Ginny, then Aberforth? - and then she was forced to dodge screaming, shrieking children running towards her.
“Over there!” She yelled at them. Pointed to the woods. “Stay together and find some cover!”
She prayed she wasn’t sending them into worse danger, but there was no time to think. Spells were flying through the air, she ducked one and nearly tripped into another in doing so. Glimpsed a masked Death Eater out of the corner of her eye and sent three Stunning Spells in quick succession at the bastard. He reeled backwards and she ran on.
Where was he? Remus tell me where you are…
She ran up the steep incline in front of her, and the effort almost brought her to her knees. Eyes blurring and feeling desperately sick, for a moment she saw nothing at all.
Remus?
As though called by her soundless cry, she saw him. Saw the group of children crouching down and huddled together by the rocks behind him, their escape route to the woods cut off. Saw Remus steadily, desperately defending against a Death Eater she recognised, sending a Shield Charm over the children and blocking a ferocious barrage of spells himself. Saw what a disadvantage he was at having to fight uphill on the slope, unable to move at all or do anything but defend for fear he’d leave the children open to attack.
She saw Bellatrix coming up unseen behind the children. Marching up towards them with both triumph and laughter on her face.
The only choice was Tonks’: she could shout to Remus - behind you! Or she could shout at the children and perhaps give Remus chance to save himself. But all those children were defenceless against Bellatrix and she wouldn't hesitate to use them one by one.
There never had been any choices, not since those early nights at Grimmauld where she and Remus had lain together on the floor in front of the fire locked in each other’s arms. Kissing until their mouths were sore and exhausted by longing.
All that love had led to Teddy. Had led to this moment. Teddy had to live for them both and both his parents had to fight for him to do so.
She ran down the hill like the hounds of hell were after her. All three saw her coming in the same instant: Bellatrix’s face lit up, Dolohov’s twisted in confusion, and Remus’…
There was joy on his face as he saw her, it was there for a split second. Before he realised…
“Run!” she roared at the children and then, as both Dolohov and Bellatrix’s wands aimed at her, she sent a jinx towards the former which made him stumble. Was dimly aware of Remus shouting ”Protego!” and launching himself desperately at her.
But there was no time left.
“Bellatrix.” She pointed with her finger as her wand was useless now against the two of them. “You’re dead, you bitch!”
It was quite true what Mad-Eye had always said: you never felt the one that hit you till afterwards. Though surely she shouldn’t feel anything at all? The world swirled and swam above her, full of colours, and she floated into them. It wasn't anything like she'd imagined. And the very last feeling, the very last touch of all as she sank down into the grass, was of Remus’ hand on hers.
Dickon Aird was round, small and ambitious, and his mouth had grown very round as well as Tonks told her tale.
“And you really don’t know what happened?” he managed to ask at last.
“I think - the only thing I can think - is that both their spells collided in mid-air before they hit us. They sent the curses at exactly the same time and perhaps it took away that vital bit of impact. They certainly thought we were dead.” Remus shrugged, his eyes meeting Tonks’ for a second. “Perhaps it’s all well and good that we can’t explain everything logically, but must just be thankful for whatever did happen?”
Dickon looked as though he wasn’t too happy with that explanation at all, but he was too busy scribbling additional notes with his quill to go with the pile of parchment on the floor.
The quill paused. “D’you think - now don’t shoot me down in flames here.” Dickon looked slightly nervous but, like the best of reporters, decided putting people on the spot was well worth risking getting hexed for. “Our readers will want to know if it’s because werewolves are, erm, supernaturally strong.”
Tonks bit her lip.
“I doubt it,” said her husband, coolly, “seeing as it only took one small crystal ball landing on his head to flatten Fenrir Greyback.”
“Ah. Yes.” Dickon crossed something out on his notes with several strokes of the quill. “Yes. Good point there. And, erm, Mrs Lupin?”
Tonks looked at him, waiting for it.
“I know our female readers in particular will want to know what did make you go after your husband and leave your newborn son behind?”
She opened her mouth, but Remus got in first. “How long exactly do you think the son of a werewolf would have survived if she hadn’t come and made a difference? Everyone who fought made the difference between winning and losing. The Daily Prophet keeps referring to people losing their lives, but they gave them for others. Isn’t that the most anyone can give?”
That silenced even Dickon Aird. “I’m not sure what headline to put on this,” he said eventually. “Day of Miracles, perhaps?”
“How about forgetting what's gone and looking to the future?” said Tonks. “Day of Promise?
They walked home together and though she knew that both of them had one hand on their wands in case they ran into trouble, it still felt like some kind of progress to be out on a beautiful evening and strolling along. How long was it since they’d been able to do that?
“You were right about talking to Mr. Aird,” Remus said. “The only way of reducing the fear of werewolves is by talking about them.”
“Glad you’ve come round to my way of thinking, Lupin. Took you long enough.” She grinned, but he looked sharply at her.
“Stop blaming yourself, Dora.”
“It’s not that easy though, is it? I’ll try. It might take a lifetime or two.” She hesitated. “I thought that you…”
“Thought I what?”
She shrugged. “Might blame me. I’d understand if you did.”
“Oh.” The colour rose in his pale cheeks as he frowned. “No. Not at all. Motherhood's not all soft and fluffy, is it? It's fierce and incredibly powerful. That's why Lily stood in front of Harry to save him and why you'd do anything to save Teddy. No, I was too busy blaming myself for being so overjoyed that you were there. It’s probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”
It was her turn to look at him, and he said, hurriedly, “You know I’ve always thought I’d live alone and, well, die alone. Then you were there and I can't tell you what you looked like pointing at Bellatrix like that, you just blazed defiance at her. But I’m not sure I can ever forgive myself and why exactly are you laughing at me, Dora?”
“I dunno.” She laughed again. “Probably because I was imagining all sorts, and now you tell me you had a gooey moment when I came charging to your rescue.”
“I didn’t need rescuing, I had it all under control.”
“Yeah. Course you did.” She pulled some of the long grass from the bottom of the hedgerow and threw it at him. He dodged, a little awkwardly as the leg he insisted was fine caught him. “Stop backing away from me, Remus. You’re like a boyfriend I once had.”
“What happened to him? Is he scarred for life?” He stood still and put out an arm, pulling her to him.
“I ended up marrying him so he’s got no chance.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “Apparently, we have a cauldron marriage, whatever that means.”
“Ah. I could tell that one was floating round in your little head, ready to come back and haunt me when I was least expecting it. I was thinking it’s like a cauldron in that there’s always something simmering or bubbling away. Sometimes things boil over unexpectedly and make a right mess, but sometimes-” he smiled at her “-things are cooked to perfection and it couldn't get any better.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “And that’s good, you think? That we're like a nice bit of beef stew?”
“I do. It’s never dull, is it? I can’t see you ever leading a quiet life and perhaps it’s about time I gave up trying to. It never seems to go very well.”
They walked on, arms round each other, sobering up slightly at the sight of Dark creatures get out for good! blasted into a wall but it wasn’t enough to destroy their mood. She asked him if he’d spoken to Harry, and he said something about a strange, shared dream - and he looked relieved and rather pleased and not unhappy as he said it - and that he’d talk to her about it at home. She thought about her mother sat waiting all alone in her pretty kitchen for them. Of George who seemed to have lost half his soul. Of the funerals and grief still to come. Of the work that lay ahead.
She thought of their son, who’d be waking up round about now and wanting dinner.
“It’s all going to take years, isn’t it?” she said, more to herself than Remus, but he answered anyway.
“Yes. I think it is.”
“I only ever thought about the war ending. Not what comes next or how we go on.”
He smiled at her. Pulled her even closer and touched his lips to her forehead.
“We go on by going on,” he said. “Together.”
Rating and warnings: R - please note deals with death and grieving.
Prompts: Cauldron, Day of Promise, Alternate Universe
Word Count: 8202 words
Summary: She dimly heard Remus’ voice. “It’s just confusing because we’ve…” His voice faltered, then went on. “Because we’ve lost a day. Dora. Don’t you remember?” Remus and Tonks have survived the Battle of Hogwarts, but is the cost going to be too high?
fthpfthpfthp very kindly did a fantastic picture from this fic at her LJ, which can be found here. Many thanks to her.:D
Author's Notes: Originally written for the Autumn Moonlight Jumble at metamorfic_moon, October 2008, and dedicated to godricgal without whose help it would almost certainly not have been posted when it had to be. The basic premise is what if the Battle of Hogwarts ended exactly as it did in Deathly Hallows - "Remus and Tonks, pale and still and peaceful-looking, apparently asleep beneath the dark, enchanted ceiling" - but they were later found to still be alive? This is an attempt at imagining what the next few days might have been like...
By Going On
For a moment, it was like the start of any other day.
There was the warmth of Remus’ body next to her, the sure, steady sound of his breathing and the knowledge that when he woke she’d slide across the bed and into his arms which would be waiting for her. She’d feel his soft mouth tasting the dawn light on her skin and hear him murmur good morning to their growing child as his hand rested on her stomach with a sense of awe that made her laugh. They’d talk of things which ranged from gossip to daftness to downright lunacy and all the way back again, but they mattered most because they were shared and for them alone. And because they’d push away a world outside this room gone stark, staring mad for just that little bit longer.
She rolled her head over on the pillow to look at him and found him already watching her. She’d no idea how long he’d been doing so, but as he gazed at her with troubled eyes across a wide expanse of white sheets she became aware of the stabbing ache in all parts of her body, the hush of the room and, beyond that, of the house itself. There was no answering smile on his long narrow mouth.
Reality flooded back like a blast of icy cold air. She’d been remembering the past. Weeks ago. Before Teddy. Before…
“Dora.” He raised himself with an obvious effort onto one elbow and reached out a hand towards her. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” At the first touch of his fingers against her cheek she clumsily shoved back the bedclothes and swung herself to her feet. Caught her breath at the protest of seemingly every muscle she’d got.
“Dora, wait-”
“I need to see-”
“He’s fine.” Remus gestured to the cradle at the foot of the bed, but she was already hobbling frantically towards it, stubbing her toe painfully on the corner of the bed. Stopping only at the sight of Teddy sleeping peacefully before her, a tiny bubble escaping from his pursed lips.
“I’ve been checking on him,” Remus said. The words sounded reassuring and he was smiling at her now, but Tonks felt an unspoken rebuke as she stared at his face, the lines of exhaustion standing out clearly on the side lit by the sun. You’ve slept and put yourself first. What kind of mother are you?
She glanced around wildly for the time and couldn’t believe it when she saw it.
“You only fed him a couple of hours ago.” She dimly heard Remus’ voice. “It’s just confusing because we’ve…” His voice faltered, then went on. “Because we’ve lost a day. Dora. Don’t you remember?”
Oh, she remembered. Apparating home from St. Mungo’s, neither of them in fit state to do so and clinging to each other for support. Standing for a moment to recover and then hearing the unmistakable cry of their child, which made them both run up the drive like mad things. The agony of waiting as she and Remus struggled to undo all the protection spells while Teddy’s cries turned to screams of rage. Beating her fists against her sides as Remus growled I know, I know through clenched teeth, and his wand scythed viciously through the air. Catching her sleeve on the gate as she finally threw it open, charging up the staircase with her breasts hurting like hell because they were so heavy and full, and flinging herself into their bedroom where her mother was walking up and down clutching Teddy to her, his tiny frame stiff and scarlet with fury.
She remembered tearing at her shirt, ripping out the sodden pads from her bra, and then Remus was there, briefly embracing his mother-in-law before settling Teddy in the crook of Tonks’ arm as Andromeda sank unsteadily onto the nearest chair. Teddy made blind, frantic movements of his head before he found the breast, squirming rigidly in her hands. Then, suddenly, he drank, his body softened and relaxed and Tonks felt a mutual sigh of drawn-out relief pass between them. The dark eyes with the amazingly long sweep of lashes - so like his father’s - flickered upwards to meet hers with a look of acknowledgement and absolute trust.
About time, the look said, as the thick brown tuft of hair started to turn a bright contented turquoise. Where’ve you been then?
Oh, she remembered all right. Looked at Remus and saw he remembered it too.
“We have to talk about… everything,” she said as he stared unseeingly at her, his brow furrowed as if seeking the answer to something he didn’t understand.
“I need to see Harry,” he said, and then belatedly seemed to realise what she’d said. “Oh, yes. Of course we do.” He added, with a visible effort at his normal tone, “It’s not every day you get to be presumed dead, after all.”
She nodded, half-smiled, and then gave up trying to. It wasn’t that which bothered her half as much as something else. Or, she thought, bothered him as he turned away from her to reach for his clothes.
The sun streamed in through the window, promising a glorious day ahead. At that moment, the cost of being alive to see it felt as if it might be too high.
Talking was fast turning out to be the one thing they weren’t able to do. Not at St. Mungo’s and not here, in her parents’ pretty blue and lemon kitchen in the same chair where she’d sat long ago and eaten vast amounts of raw cake mix while her mother baked. Because how did you have a conversation about anything only twenty-four hours after fifty people, many of them children, had died at Hogwarts?
It even felt wrong to smile.
“It’s nice to have the newspapers back again. One small sign of normality at least, especially after so long without them or without them printing all that ludicrous propaganda for You-Know-Who.” Andromeda said it briskly over a breakfast full of silences and the frequent interruption of Patronuses from the Order. Tonks’ favourite so far was Hestia’s dachshund, which dashed up to her with its tail wagging madly, and said, “Holy crap! You’re alive! I’m so HAPPY!” Tonks had sent hers back saying, “Good because you’re getting the first round in when we see you next. And being dead doesn't half make you thirsty!”
“Oh dear God.” Andromeda looked up.
“What?” Tonks gave up all pretence of eating.
“They’ve listed all the…” Andromeda stopped. Tonks caught sight of the headline proclaiming Day of Victory! “All those who died. I thought it was Fred Weasley? It was, wasn’t it? They’ve printed George Weasley in error down here, instead. As though that poor family haven’t got enough to bear.”
“Those bastards never do get anything right,” Tonks said bitterly as Remus, returning to the kitchen just in time to overhear, swore softly under his breath, and she tried desperately not to think that this was the last time anyone was going to confuse the twins’ freckled faces again. Nor did she want to think about that last glimpse of Fred’s which she’d had. “Was that Kingsley?”
“Yes.” He gulped down his tea. “I have to go.”
“Right. ‘Cos you’re in such a great state yourself. You’re limping worse and didn’t the Healers mention cracked ribs and at least a dozen other things I can think of?”
“I’m all right, Dora.” He looked at her then, a brief hard look that she knew of old, and which she hated because it said that she understood why he needed so badly to do this and would therefore let him. “There’s people still unaccounted for at Hogwarts - at least two they know of who fought for Harry and who they can’t find. Their families are suffering terribly. And there’s unrest everywhere with the Ministry in disarray, suspected Voldemort sympathisers fleeing for their lives and reprisals being taken. Looting as well at abandoned houses. Kingsley needs all the help he can get.”
“I could help too-” she started, even as she was thinking there was no way she’d ever leave Teddy willingly again, but he said quickly, “No. Not until I’ve seen how things are. If it’s anything like it was after the first war…” He shook his head.
“What?”
“People have very short and selective memories, especially if they have reason to be ashamed of their own behaviour,” he said. He cast a quick look at Andromeda’s bent head and added softly, “It’s sometimes easier to blame someone else for your own misjudgements than it is to face up to them. Besides, you’re still married to a werewolf. We’ll have to be careful for a little while.”
“You fought for Harry!” She tried to keep her voice as low as his, but it rose with fury as she followed him towards the doorway. And you all but died for him. “And the werewolves didn’t fight.”
“Greyback did. We’re a day behind everyone else, remember, and things have moved on apace. Rumour will be feeding rumour and running wild by now.” He smiled grimly. “As one jaw closes, another jaw opens. Kingsley says there are notices saying death to Dark creatures all over Hogsmeade.”
She forced herself not to say something about exactly who it was who won the bloody war. “And there was I thinking I’d be able to nip to the shops today, wander round the spring clothing sales to snap up a few bargains and stock the larder up for the first time in months.”
His eyes were intent upon her, a glimmer of amusement showing through the tiredness. “I’m afraid it’s going to be omelette for dinner yet again, unless you can persuade the chickens to lay something else. You can always try that interesting dessert we had last week - carrot cake, didn’t you say it was? Only minus the carrots?”
“Remus-”
“I know.” He put his arms round her and held her hard against him, so hard she could feel the metal of his belt buckle digging into her. His kiss was hard too. “I’ll find a way for you to help.” His lips twitched. “If you don’t beat me to it. Look after our son and yourself. If you promise you’ll both be all right, then I will be too.”
“Yes.” They were the last words he’d spoken to her before setting out for Hogwarts and the guilt stabbed at her. I swear I didn’t come after you to fight, Remus. Just to find out what was happening.
She made herself smile back as she handed him his cloak - because he was never going to see how frightened she was for him and be distracted by it - but the words that came out were exactly the same as the ones she’d said to him before.
“Teddy and I will be waiting for you.”
He nodded, a shadow passing over his face, and then a last touch of her face with his fingers and he was gone. Leaving her to set the security spells and stare after him. Thinking that still coming to terms with being a mother was one thing - as was finding how much joy, fear and exhaustion it brought with it - but the thing she would never get used to was seeing other people doing what she should and could. All before she walked slowly back into the kitchen and found her own mother crying silently over the newspaper in her hands.
Both Tonks and Remus were listed amongst the dead as well.
Remus returned late in the evening, the limp and the strain in his face both worse - there’d been one happy ending to the search, one not - but she gave him ten minutes alone with Teddy laid snuffling (and frequently dribbling) on his chest, which found his smile and hers as she watched them both through the crack in the door. Then she pushed him firmly in the direction of the shower. “You’re a bossy so-and-so, Mrs Lupin,” he said. “Too right I am,” she replied. “You know it was one of the first things you fancied about me.” He grinned, and didn’t disagree, and for a moment there was no barrier between them.
Later on, after her mother had said she needed an early night, they swapped the story of their day over the dreaded omelettes and Tonks tried not to wonder if Remus was leaving out as much as she was. Probably more. She told him she’d written to Molly and Arthur, but not how she’d agonised over every word for so long that it had taken nearly all morning. Of her visitors, headed by one Hermione Granger. How Hermione had been fascinated by the food network set up by neighbours across many miles to help each other survive - the eggs laid by her mother's chickens being exchanged for vegetables, then in turn for meat, fruit and milk and so on and so on, until everyone was responsible for providing something and no one went without. Hermione had said it was similar to how the Muggles had survived during their last war. Except that they’d also had something called ‘ration books’, which Tonks thought sounded like a system open to abuse.
“Hermione’s keen to do something to help people who’ve lost loved ones or their homes or livelihoods,” Tonks said. “Or the lot.”
Remus nodded, stifled a yawn. “Good. It’ll need someone like her to organise it all and not take no for an answer.” He gave Tonks a knowing look. “And how are you helping?”
“I’m working on it.” She grinned.
“That might explain the pile of cauldrons in the hallway then. Weren’t they part of our wedding gifts stored here that you were going to sort one day?”
“I have sorted them, that’s why they’re in the hallway. Hermione says that it's a Muggle joke that when they get married everyone gives them something called toasties or toasters. We don’t need four cauldrons and I thought they might help someone else.”
“Help you get out of cooking, you mean.” He smiled at her. “Our marriage is a bit like a cauldron, isn’t it?”
“How’d you mean?”
“Oh…” He looked surprised by her sharpness. “Just a silly joke. What else did you do?”
“This and that.” She was still thinking about what he’d said. There was no way she was going to tell him that she’d found the letters and photos they’d left for Teddy in the event of something happening to either of them. Remus had said this was something they must do as he always remembered Harry’s face when he said he’d had nothing to bring his parents to life for him. She’d sat and read a random paragraph of hers, told herself there was no need to cry as everything was all right now, and then cried anyway.
I wanted to know you much longer, Teddy, but if you’re reading this then it wasn’t to be. At only a few weeks old, you’ve already taken my heart and that love is going with me, wherever it is I’m going. What does a mother wish for her son? That you’re as happy as I am now. You have a wonderful father and a family who adores you. And you won’t have to deal with an annoying woman with no dress sense, who keeps hugging you in front of your mates when you’re sixteen. But I’ll be hugging you from afar.
She looked up and saw Remus watching her. Waiting for her answer. She wondered what he’d put in his letter.
“I heard Harry’s appeal for calm on the wireless.”
“We thought it might help. The Ministry’s rushing through appointments as well - Kingsley’s heading the Auror department at the moment, but there’s talk of him even being asked to be Minister for Magic in due course. He’s certainly doing wonders there and it looks good on your CV when you’ve kept the Muggle Prime Minister alive for the last couple of years.”
“Too right.” She couldn’t think of anyone better suited for a hell of a job than Kingsley, with his air of quiet calm and absolute authority, but she also couldn’t help wondering if this meant there’d be a job for her back there one day. “And Harry?”
“He’s disappearing for a little while.” He saw her expression and said, “Everyone wants a piece of him and he’s shattered. Kingsley’s worried about his safety, too, as he’s liable to get mobbed if he goes out before things settle down. Harry wanted to see the Dursleys and Molly’s letting Ginny go with him. And if you raise your eyebrows any higher they’ll get stuck by your hairline - Hestia and Dedalus are going to be there too, as bodyguards and, erm, possibly chaperones.”
“Poor old Harry. He defeats Voldemort, but still can’t get any time alone with his girlfriend.” She was going to say that Sirius used to joke that he chaperoned the two of them and a fat lot of good it did, but thought better of it. “Did you talk to Harry?”
“Only briefly, there was always people around. Mainly wanting his autograph and to invite him home for tea. He did say he was never more delighted to be so wrong as he was about us. After he’d stared at me as though I was a ghost.”
Tonks could imagine that: Hermione had stared at her. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” she’d said politely, “but we did all think - do you know how you managed to survive?” And behind her careful words, Tonks could heard the voice of Ron chiming in as well: “We were sure you were goners! It was completely mental when they said you were alive!”
Which was partly why it had been so hard to write to Molly and Arthur. She’d felt as if she should apologise for apparently coming back from the dead when their son couldn’t.
“About the ghost bit.” She shrugged, trying to sound casual and change the frown on Remus’ face which had returned at her mention of talking to Harry. “We made the papers, you and I. First in the list of casualties and then, in the special Evening Prophet edition, we’ve actually got our own headline on page three.”
He blinked at her.
“Oh yeah. We’re ‘The New Chosen Ones - Day of the Werewolf Rising!’”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No.” She pursed her lips. “I’m a bit miffed they’ve got my age wrong and think you’re ex-Professor Rebus Lupin, but I know they must have been in a hurry to get all this out. I do like the ‘close’ friend of ours who described me as the ‘attractive but unconventional ex-Auror’.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Well, the fact they think you married a twenty year old is.” She saw his expression and straightened up. “Look. I’ve been thinking. What you said about the power of rumour and all that - what about if I talk to the reporter whose name is on this stuff. Dickon Aird. His motto is he airs the truth, so let’s give it to him? Set him straight on some things, and see if we can do some good at the same time?”
“Dora, I don’t know-”
She pressed on. “Remus. I know you’re right about us still being careful, but I can’t just sit around all day and worry about my stretch marks. And I want to involve Mum too. There’s a bit about the Ministry doing memorial services for those who’ve fallen in the fight against Voldemort and - and Dad’s name was listed. His story and those of so many like him needs telling. She’s never had time to mourn him.”
“Nor have you.” He said it harshly, almost coldly, and it was only because she knew him so well that she could see the emotion he was hiding. “God, when I think…” He stopped abruptly and passed a weary hand through his hair. “You must be exhausted,” he said, “and if you ache half as much as I do - we’ll talk about it in the morning. Let’s go to bed.”
“But-”
“Bed.” He took her hand and led her towards the staircase. “Our son will want feeding in approximately three hours time and you look as if you’re asleep on your feet.”
She had to acknowledge the truth of this as they skirted the pile of cauldrons and went carefully up the stairs, his arm round her, her head resting against his shoulder. Like old times. It really wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Teddy, if she keeled over now. They both stood and watched him sleeping in his cradle for a few minutes, a ritual they’d fallen into from the day he was born. “We’re a pair of soppy idiots,” she whispered eventually. “I’m not,” her husband said, his words at odds with the fact that he lingered a second or two more. “I’m just checking to make sure he doesn’t snore louder than you do.”
But he’s the son of Chosen Ones. Snoring must be beneath him.
The thought made her giggle as she got into bed. “What?” he said, and she told him and he gave a reluctant chuckle. “That newspaper reporter’s going to want to know if you’ve got a scar on your forehead,” he said, and leaned over on his side to trace a zig-zag there with his finger before kissing her. Lightly at first, but then with an intensity that made her light-headed. She felt as if she’d been trodden on by several Hippogriffs and sex, even if it hadn’t been far too soon after the birth, was the last thing that appealed right now but she wanted his arms round her. She needed to be held so she knew that they’d already survived two crises of his making, and that a third one of hers was not going to be the one to bring them down.
She bit his lip gently and felt it curve in a smile. She moved until she was pressed against him, feeling the heat of his body against hers and expecting him to rest his head down next to hers and his arms to slip round her. Instead his mouth followed the curve of her throat to the softest part where it joined the shoulder and bit down gently. His hand slid down to her waist then her hip, turning her towards him, just as he stiffened and went rigid against her.
He raised his head and stared at her, his face wiped blank of any emotion. “I don’t know what I’m thinking,” he said very softly, “you need to sleep.” And by the time the words had sunk in he’d lain down and rolled onto his side, turning away from her.
As though he’d just remembered he was kissing the woman who’d left their son behind?
His voice came across the wide expanse of bed between them. Very controlled and polite. “Good night, Dora.”
“Good night, Remus.”
There was dead silence.
She put her face in her pillow and listened to the steady breathing of her son and that which was far more uneven coming from her husband.
The next day brought a newspaper bearing the headline Day of Uncertainty! There were several paragraphs dedicated to the stories of families who’d returned home from hiding. “The Ministry’s doing bugger all to help us now we’ve back, and we’re all going to starve and have to cancel our holidays,” said Algernon Faulks, ex-shopkeeper from Diagon Alley, pictured on the front with family, friends and supporters. “Where’s Harry Potter, that’s what we’d all like to know? Bet he’s not worried about where his next meal’s coming from!”
Tonks’ irritation at the number of stupid gits currently shouting their mouths off while people who had suffered far worse were trying to get their lives back together, was tempered somewhat by a Potterwatch broadcast. They’d kept the same name though it was now available to all, and this one featured Kingsley Shacklebolt assuring Mr Faulks (given wireless air to go along with his endless supply of hot), that bed, board and protection were readily available for those in need.
All they had to do was say. Preferably at the address advertised everywhere, rather than the front pages of the newspaper.
“That’s all jolly good then.” Algernon sounded somewhat mollified, right up until he said, “There’s a crowd of us who feel the same, but we didn’t like to speak out at a time like this as there’s all those funerals going on. We were going to do a march or something tomorrow, though, if you didn’t do anything. All stick together like, so you didn’t label one of us as trouble-makers and lock us up. I know how you Ministry-types work.”
“I’m not sure you’ve got quite the right impression there, Mr Faulks,” Kingsley said politely at the same time as the programme announcer, who sounded distinctly like Remus J. Lupin, said it was good to know there was still safety in numbskulls (sorry, numbers), and thanked both of them for their time and Kingsley for his patience.
Tonks punched the air making Teddy, on her lap, blink in sleepy surprise. “Your daddy’s telling ‘em,” she said, and wondered how to keep his daddy in this frame of mind as he still wasn’t keen on her newspaper interview idea. “It’s up to the next generation now,” he’d said, and glared at her when she said they were still the next generation and their son was the next, next one. But if Remus was being the usual stubborn prat, she was further cheered by a basket left later at the end of the drive which, after she’d thrown most of Mad-Eye’s security spells at it, revealed a delicious looking leg of pork wrapped in a now singed tablecloth and a bag of potatoes. Along with a tatty piece of parchment saying simply thanks.
Remus seemed less grim, too, when he came home, as though last night had never been. But he still avoided any discussion about the Battle and Tonks, who rarely saw the point of avoiding something you’d have to face eventually, couldn’t make herself face up to this. In the same way she couldn’t tell him she’d woken up in the Great Hall at Hogwarts and not in St. Mungo’s, like he had.
Cowardice, she thought bitterly, could talk you into anything. As could fear.
“I saw Arthur today.” Remus said round an appreciative mouthful of pork. He reached in his pocket. “Said to say thank you for your letter. Molly sent this for you.”
He handed her a piece of neatly folded parchment. “How is he?” Tonks asked as she opened it.
“Grieving.” She looked up, he was watching her. “You know what this says?”
“Arthur told me.”
“Do you think-” She read it again to make sure she’d got it right. I’m at my wit’s end, Molly had written. “Do you think this is the best place for him? With us and a baby?”
Remus shrugged. “It is if he thinks so.”
The freckles on George Weasley’s face stood out like tiny brown coins against the bleached white of his skin. “Sorry,” he said for the hundredth time since arriving on the front door mat with a small suitcase and standing to one side as though leaving space for someone else beside him. “Don’t mean to put you all out. It’s very good of Mrs Tonks to do this.” He produced a bunch of rather forlorn looking roses, said tiredly, “It’s all right, they won’t spray anything at her,” and Tonks could have wept because she wished so much that they would.
“I couldn’t…” He kept leaving sentences hanging in mid-air, with a look of confusion on his face when no one finished them for him.
“We’re glad to have you.” Tonks smiled and put a mug of hot tea into his unresisting hand. “I love volunteers to change smelly nappies.”
“… bear Auntie Muriel’s. Then we went back to The Burrow…”
“And Teddy always enjoys a good burping competition.”
“… I could have had Gin’s room while she’s away, but that would have been wrong. It was our room. Only I couldn’t…”
“Don’t let your tea get cold.”
“…go in there. And Mum keeps crying.” He looked at Tonks, his hand wrapped tightly round the mug which surely must be burning it, and she thought she’d never seen anyone quite so lost.
“What do I do?” she said to Remus later on, knowing George was sat in the armchair downstairs gazing into space, while her mother, who had enough grief of her own, tried to make conversation. “What do I say?”
“Just talk. Or be quiet when he wants you to. Make him eat and keep him busy. Get him fixing all those jobs round the house that Andromeda wants done. Let him help with Teddy. I’ll try and get him even more involved with Potterwatch as Kingsley hasn’t got time any more.” He hesitated. “With your father, we all kept going because Teddy was coming and we had a purpose. Something that still gave life meaning and gave Ted’s life meaning. But George-” He stopped.
She nodded, understanding what he was trying to say. “Is that what it was like for you,” she asked suddenly, “after the first war? Trying to find a reason to go on?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“But you did.”
“Eventually. I had good friends still in the Order, and a family who cared about me. I thought James and Lily would never forgive me if I gave up. And their son was out there and if I felt as if I’d lost everything, then he’d lost even more. So there was someone who understood.”
She wondered if he thought that that was why George had come here, even if he didn’t realise it himself. It was right what he’d said about her dad: there’d been the terrible moment when they’d learned Ted was dead - and how he’d died - and then she’d retreated into the existence of her baby to give it all some sense where there was none. Her dad would have been the world’s proudest grandfather and taught Teddy how to cheat at card games and leave fluff from woolly socks all over the house to annoy granny.
She looked at Remus. “Is it true what they say - it gets better with time?”
He hesitated and she thought for a moment he was going to say something reassuring, as he would have done before their marriage and even in the early weeks of it. Before she thought she’d finally convinced him that protecting her from everything was ultimately a kind of dishonesty.
“Yes - and no.” He reached for her hand. “Very slowly it stops being the only or the main thing in your mind, but you hurt in a different way. You mind for the person who’s gone, that they’re never going to see this.” He sighed. “I spent a good ten minutes yesterday imagining what James and Sirius would have said to Algernon Faulks.”
His words were still in her head when they attended the first funeral, for a boy by the name of Colin Creevey, who Remus had taught. In fact, he had photographs which Colin had taken and given to him, and he’d brought some to the service to give to Colin’s parents. They included one of Remus in his office at Hogwarts with a Grindylow pulling hideous faces in its tank behind him. There was a huge turnout and moving speeches from both Minerva McGonagall and Neville Longbottom. Tonks was glad she’d gone for burgundy hair as she thought a boy who seemed to live his life watching others through a camera lens might appreciate some colour amongst all the black robes. She stepped outside with George, Remus having gone to talk to Harry and been lost in the crowd gathered round him.
“Fred’s isn’t for a week and a bit,” George said.
“Right. Well, I suppose…”
“Yeah. There’s a queue.” George was kicking pebbles harder and harder into the grass at his feet, and rescue came for Tonks in the shape of a tall black girl who came up and hugged him fiercely without a word.
“What would you say to a drink?” she said, drawing back and looking at him.
Something worked in George’s face, a muscle or something, Tonks wasn’t sure which. “I’d say… don’t get too comfortable in that glass.”
The girl’s face changed too; for a moment she seemed to laugh, then cry, then do both together in a choked little sound. “Come on then,” she said.
George looked at Tonks. “You go,” she said. “I’ll wait for Remus. But don’t be a dirty stop out-” Her voice faltered as she wondered if what she was saying could be any more inappropriate for a funeral, but then she thought sod the proprieties, it was more important to say what was needed, and so she carried on. “It’s mushroom omelettes all round tonight so don’t be late.”
George nodded. His freckles were less noticeable today in the bright sunshine and he’d swept his hair back, making no attempt to hide the dark hole where his ear had been. Tonks wasn’t sure how much good they were doing him, but having a guest around to look after was helping her mother in some way. Tonks hadn’t consciously missed all the little pot plants and knick-knacks on the window ledges, the notes and photographs stuck neatly on the cork board in the kitchen, but she’d noticed this morning that they were back.
“You’ll be all right?” George asked her.
“Yes, I’m going to sit on that bench over there in the sun.”
He nodded. “About the funerals - I reckon Fred would say they were saving the best till last.”
“Me too.”
She sat down on the bench and closed her eyes, feeling the sun warm her face and ease the aches she still felt all over. Thought of Teddy, at home with her mum, and how hard it had been to leave him. Thought of how George had said that one of the reasons he couldn’t bear to go home was because he’d have to sort through Fred’s things. Mad-Eye had had no family so she’d gone over there with Remus and seen the tiny house he’d lived in, with a weapons chest in the front room. Upstairs had been the worst, feeling like a trespasser in the bedroom and bathroom seeing things she was never meant to. His dressing gown was hanging on the door, and there was a used razor blade in the soap dish of the basin where she could see the dark bristles of his shave. There was a dent in the pillow on the bed and she thought for a moment about putting her face where his head had lain and screaming.
At least she could understand his death, come to terms with it. Mad-Eye would have been disgusted if she hadn’t got on with things. But her father’s was more difficult to accept. Sometimes it seemed to her that the giving of his life was a heroic gesture of courageous love, at others she thought she’d never understand how he came to do what he did.
It was very quiet and hot on the bench. Tonks didn’t hear anything until a voice said, hesitantly, “Nymphadora?”
She looked up and saw Minerva McGonagall watching her.
“Wotcher.” There was no sense of surprise, almost as if she’d been sat there waiting for her.
“Are you all right?”
“Mmm. Sit with me?”
Minerva settled herself down, not quite looking at Tonks, who said, “You made a nice speech. I feel as if I know Colin a bit now.”
“I’ve just been speaking to his parents.” Minerva sniffed, patting her pockets. “Though what can you say… I sent him away, you know. He was too young. They all were. And he came back.”
“I always wonder,” Tonks passed her one of Remus’ handkerchiefs, “why men have such big hankies when we’re the ones who do the crying?”
Minerva blew her nose, smiled a watery smile. “A few tears were being shed over you two.”
“Yeah.” Tonks felt as if this was another moment she’d been waiting for. “I wanted to thank you. I wasn’t really… with it in the Great Hall, and it wasn’t until I was at St. Mungo’s that they told me it was you who’d found us.”
“It was my duty.” Minerva sat up a little straighter. “I knew I’d have to tell the parents. So Poppy and I were - were checking everyone, and you and Remus were lying together and looked so peaceful.”
Tonks felt as if her voice was coming from somewhere far away. Almost nothing to do with her. “How did you know?”
“It was your hair, Nymphadora.”
“My-” Of all the things she’d imagined, this had never even crossed her mind. “My hair?”
“It was pink.” Minerva was twisting the handkerchief round and round in her hand. “I remember a girl in my class, many years ago now, telling me that she couldn’t hold a morph when she was ill and how much harder it was if she was tired or asleep as it took energy. And so I - I simply couldn’t imagine how - and then Poppy said she thought there might be the faintest of pulses though she couldn’t be sure and, well, we went a bit mad. Because no one survives Avada Kedavra, do they?”
“No.” Not unless you’re Harry Potter.
“Poppy worked on you and then there definitely was a pulse, and we thought we might be hearing one in Remus, too. Only it was hard to tell by then because, as I say, we were a little demented.” She looked at Tonks. “You remember?”
“Only voices. Everything was hazy. Like a dream.” Except when someone - Hagrid? - lifted me up and I saw Fred’s face with those staring eyes and that fixed grin…
Then it was a nightmare. As was waking up in St. Mungo’s and gradually realising what had happened, and why the corridors were overflowing with the injured and their relatives. Sitting with Remus for what seemed like hours while they kept telling her to lie down, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she knew they'd both be going home to their son.
“So…” Minerva’s voice was a hushed whisper. “It’s so wonderful, Nymphadora, but… do you know how?”
There was movement behind her; she knew who it was even before she turned her head to see.
“You woke up in the Great Hall amongst the bodies?” said Remus and his face was creased in such pain she couldn’t bear to see it.
She could run, she’d always been able to run. Other girls were hampered by boobs or hips or both, but Nymphadora Tonks had always been able to run faster than them all.
Of course, that was before she’d had a baby. Before the terrible sense of foreboding and dread that had led to her following Remus after the Patronus from Kingsley had arrived to say the Order were gathering at Hogwarts. And once there, the feeling had grown even worse - she knew that he’d sacrifice himself without a second thought because that was the man he was. He’d die for her and Teddy to give them a chance to live. How could she look her son in the face when he was grown and say she’d stood by and not saved his father when she could?
And so she ran to find him. A side-splitting run that winded her at every step, her breath coming in huge gasps.
There were voices behind shouting her name - it sounded like Ginny, then Aberforth? - and then she was forced to dodge screaming, shrieking children running towards her.
“Over there!” She yelled at them. Pointed to the woods. “Stay together and find some cover!”
She prayed she wasn’t sending them into worse danger, but there was no time to think. Spells were flying through the air, she ducked one and nearly tripped into another in doing so. Glimpsed a masked Death Eater out of the corner of her eye and sent three Stunning Spells in quick succession at the bastard. He reeled backwards and she ran on.
Where was he? Remus tell me where you are…
She ran up the steep incline in front of her, and the effort almost brought her to her knees. Eyes blurring and feeling desperately sick, for a moment she saw nothing at all.
Remus?
As though called by her soundless cry, she saw him. Saw the group of children crouching down and huddled together by the rocks behind him, their escape route to the woods cut off. Saw Remus steadily, desperately defending against a Death Eater she recognised, sending a Shield Charm over the children and blocking a ferocious barrage of spells himself. Saw what a disadvantage he was at having to fight uphill on the slope, unable to move at all or do anything but defend for fear he’d leave the children open to attack.
She saw Bellatrix coming up unseen behind the children. Marching up towards them with both triumph and laughter on her face.
The only choice was Tonks’: she could shout to Remus - behind you! Or she could shout at the children and perhaps give Remus chance to save himself. But all those children were defenceless against Bellatrix and she wouldn't hesitate to use them one by one.
There never had been any choices, not since those early nights at Grimmauld where she and Remus had lain together on the floor in front of the fire locked in each other’s arms. Kissing until their mouths were sore and exhausted by longing.
All that love had led to Teddy. Had led to this moment. Teddy had to live for them both and both his parents had to fight for him to do so.
She ran down the hill like the hounds of hell were after her. All three saw her coming in the same instant: Bellatrix’s face lit up, Dolohov’s twisted in confusion, and Remus’…
There was joy on his face as he saw her, it was there for a split second. Before he realised…
“Run!” she roared at the children and then, as both Dolohov and Bellatrix’s wands aimed at her, she sent a jinx towards the former which made him stumble. Was dimly aware of Remus shouting ”Protego!” and launching himself desperately at her.
But there was no time left.
“Bellatrix.” She pointed with her finger as her wand was useless now against the two of them. “You’re dead, you bitch!”
It was quite true what Mad-Eye had always said: you never felt the one that hit you till afterwards. Though surely she shouldn’t feel anything at all? The world swirled and swam above her, full of colours, and she floated into them. It wasn't anything like she'd imagined. And the very last feeling, the very last touch of all as she sank down into the grass, was of Remus’ hand on hers.
Dickon Aird was round, small and ambitious, and his mouth had grown very round as well as Tonks told her tale.
“And you really don’t know what happened?” he managed to ask at last.
“I think - the only thing I can think - is that both their spells collided in mid-air before they hit us. They sent the curses at exactly the same time and perhaps it took away that vital bit of impact. They certainly thought we were dead.” Remus shrugged, his eyes meeting Tonks’ for a second. “Perhaps it’s all well and good that we can’t explain everything logically, but must just be thankful for whatever did happen?”
Dickon looked as though he wasn’t too happy with that explanation at all, but he was too busy scribbling additional notes with his quill to go with the pile of parchment on the floor.
The quill paused. “D’you think - now don’t shoot me down in flames here.” Dickon looked slightly nervous but, like the best of reporters, decided putting people on the spot was well worth risking getting hexed for. “Our readers will want to know if it’s because werewolves are, erm, supernaturally strong.”
Tonks bit her lip.
“I doubt it,” said her husband, coolly, “seeing as it only took one small crystal ball landing on his head to flatten Fenrir Greyback.”
“Ah. Yes.” Dickon crossed something out on his notes with several strokes of the quill. “Yes. Good point there. And, erm, Mrs Lupin?”
Tonks looked at him, waiting for it.
“I know our female readers in particular will want to know what did make you go after your husband and leave your newborn son behind?”
She opened her mouth, but Remus got in first. “How long exactly do you think the son of a werewolf would have survived if she hadn’t come and made a difference? Everyone who fought made the difference between winning and losing. The Daily Prophet keeps referring to people losing their lives, but they gave them for others. Isn’t that the most anyone can give?”
That silenced even Dickon Aird. “I’m not sure what headline to put on this,” he said eventually. “Day of Miracles, perhaps?”
“How about forgetting what's gone and looking to the future?” said Tonks. “Day of Promise?
They walked home together and though she knew that both of them had one hand on their wands in case they ran into trouble, it still felt like some kind of progress to be out on a beautiful evening and strolling along. How long was it since they’d been able to do that?
“You were right about talking to Mr. Aird,” Remus said. “The only way of reducing the fear of werewolves is by talking about them.”
“Glad you’ve come round to my way of thinking, Lupin. Took you long enough.” She grinned, but he looked sharply at her.
“Stop blaming yourself, Dora.”
“It’s not that easy though, is it? I’ll try. It might take a lifetime or two.” She hesitated. “I thought that you…”
“Thought I what?”
She shrugged. “Might blame me. I’d understand if you did.”
“Oh.” The colour rose in his pale cheeks as he frowned. “No. Not at all. Motherhood's not all soft and fluffy, is it? It's fierce and incredibly powerful. That's why Lily stood in front of Harry to save him and why you'd do anything to save Teddy. No, I was too busy blaming myself for being so overjoyed that you were there. It’s probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”
It was her turn to look at him, and he said, hurriedly, “You know I’ve always thought I’d live alone and, well, die alone. Then you were there and I can't tell you what you looked like pointing at Bellatrix like that, you just blazed defiance at her. But I’m not sure I can ever forgive myself and why exactly are you laughing at me, Dora?”
“I dunno.” She laughed again. “Probably because I was imagining all sorts, and now you tell me you had a gooey moment when I came charging to your rescue.”
“I didn’t need rescuing, I had it all under control.”
“Yeah. Course you did.” She pulled some of the long grass from the bottom of the hedgerow and threw it at him. He dodged, a little awkwardly as the leg he insisted was fine caught him. “Stop backing away from me, Remus. You’re like a boyfriend I once had.”
“What happened to him? Is he scarred for life?” He stood still and put out an arm, pulling her to him.
“I ended up marrying him so he’s got no chance.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “Apparently, we have a cauldron marriage, whatever that means.”
“Ah. I could tell that one was floating round in your little head, ready to come back and haunt me when I was least expecting it. I was thinking it’s like a cauldron in that there’s always something simmering or bubbling away. Sometimes things boil over unexpectedly and make a right mess, but sometimes-” he smiled at her “-things are cooked to perfection and it couldn't get any better.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “And that’s good, you think? That we're like a nice bit of beef stew?”
“I do. It’s never dull, is it? I can’t see you ever leading a quiet life and perhaps it’s about time I gave up trying to. It never seems to go very well.”
They walked on, arms round each other, sobering up slightly at the sight of Dark creatures get out for good! blasted into a wall but it wasn’t enough to destroy their mood. She asked him if he’d spoken to Harry, and he said something about a strange, shared dream - and he looked relieved and rather pleased and not unhappy as he said it - and that he’d talk to her about it at home. She thought about her mother sat waiting all alone in her pretty kitchen for them. Of George who seemed to have lost half his soul. Of the funerals and grief still to come. Of the work that lay ahead.
She thought of their son, who’d be waking up round about now and wanting dinner.
“It’s all going to take years, isn’t it?” she said, more to herself than Remus, but he answered anyway.
“Yes. I think it is.”
“I only ever thought about the war ending. Not what comes next or how we go on.”
He smiled at her. Pulled her even closer and touched his lips to her forehead.
“We go on by going on,” he said. “Together.”