Up All Night: Chapter One
Chapter One: The Best Laid Plans…
Cheese and tomato sandwiches seemed like the answer to a lot of things at present. Unfortunately, keeping Sirius quiet was not amongst them.
“So,” he said, musingly, tilting his wooden chair back at an acute angle and watching Remus and the sandwich making with interest, “I’m really not sure I’m following the plot here, you know. Some subtext would be nice or I’ll have to invent my own.”
“I’ve told you three times,” Remus, having tried the normal places for cheese storage and come up empty-handed each time, paused to consider his next move. It certainly didn’t include letting Sirius make anything up as that usually had horrific consequences. “Kingsley can’t do the night duty with Emmeline so he asked me. I agreed. It’s not that complicated, is it?”
“But you’re knackered.”
“I think the exact phrase I used this morning was: ‘I’m fine.’”
“I can read between the lines, mate.” Sirius shifted the chair from one leg to the other, with perfect balance. “But I’ve made my point so now you can feel free to ignore me as you always do at these times.”
Remus picked up a tomato and narrowly managed to avoid yawning at the same time. It was such a hot night even the normally chilly interior of Grimmauld’s kitchen was decidedly muggy. He could hear the children’s voices echoing down the stairs, obviously eager for their dinner which had been delayed by the Order meeting. According to Sirius, they’d been remorselessly cheery all day, no doubt trying to raise Harry’s spirits before tomorrow’s trial.
At least Harry must be reassured to have people who cared about him, who treated him as family. You could cope with anything if you had that.
He saw Sirius staring upwards in the direction of the noise, and asked, “How is Harry?”
Sirius shrugged. “White-faced. Says he’s fine. Seems to be a lot of that going around at the moment.” He looked at Remus. “Of course, we could spare him some sleepless hours if we just told him what Dumbledore said last night. That he’ll make sure things go the right way if Fudge starts playing silly buggers.”
“You know why-”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius’s tone was irritable and the angle of the tilted chair was even more acute. “It’s for his own good, blah, blah, blah. Funny how doing everything for his own good seems to mean telling him sod all about the stuff he really needs to know. You saw Dumbledore again today, didn’t you?”
“Briefly, yes.” Remus, who’d been out all day running errands he had no energy to run, concentrated for a moment on the tomatoes and waited for what was coming next.
“I don’t suppose he’s changed his mind about me going with Harry?” There was a flicker of hope in the voice.
The tomato slices had disintegrated into watery pieces which would have to be shovelled onto the bread. “Dumbledore will take care of it. You’ll be waiting for him when he comes home. That’s just as important.”
“It should be me there-”
“Harry will understand why you can’t go. He’ll know you wanted to. That’s what matters.” Remus reached for the fruit basket and a change of subject. “Where are the satsumas?”
“Buckbeak’s been eating them.”
Remus stared. “He’s a carnivore! Why are you giving him fruit?”
“He likes a dessert and I find it keeps him regular.” Sirius frowned. “Let’s just skip the problems that result from keeping a Hippogriff in an enclosed space with not enough exercise, shall we? Sacrificing the odd satsuma is a small price to pay, believe you me.” He gestured at a large box on the end of the table. “Have a look in there. Molly’s stocked us up with supplies from the shops and home. She also had a moan about clueless men eating all the cereal, and said we ought to try the puddings instead like decent human beings.”
“I’d feel duly chastised if I thought she meant me.” Remus looked in the box and found a fruit section containing bananas, apples and - glory be - a bag of satsumas. Or were they tangerines at this time of year? Mandarins? Whatever they were, they solved at least part of a picnic content predicament.
“She doesn’t seem to have bought much this time.” Sirius gave the box a disinterested glance. “Aren’t there normally four or five of those?”
Remus thought the longer Sirius didn’t realise the kids would soon be back at school, the better. Aloud, he said: “I think we’ve got a quite a lot of stuff anyway. Molly’s a very kind lady.”
“She is to some of us.”
“Aren’t you two getting on all right again now? I thought things were better.”
“Yeah, great. I think we’re bonding nicely in-between the glaring and the pained silences.” Sirius waggled his black eyebrows suggestively. “Of course, I expect any pudding’s been made especially with her favourite blue-eyed boy in mind.”
“I think her thoughts were more on you, actually.” Remus, having had a good rummage around, picked the whole box up carefully. “It’s a Gooseberry Fool.”
He unloaded it and everything else in the pantry; including the sherry trifle which had been placed at the bottom - Molly really did have her moments - several packets of chocolate biscuits, lemon curd tarts, and a large and delicious looking Victoria sponge. While he was in there, he had a look round again for the elusive cheese. Tonks knocked Cheddar back quicker than the average mouse, and she surely hadn’t had time to eat as she’d come straight from work for the meeting. Eating something would hopefully buck him up as well.
There was some distinctly over-ripe Stilton and nothing else. He picked it up as smelly cheese seemed to be a slightly better option than no cheese at all.
“Where is Molly anyway?” he called, wondering if she’d moved it. The alternative was that Buckbeak had taken to having cheese and biscuits at the end of his gourmet meals. He and Sirius probably finished off with coffee, mints and a brandy liqueur, while other, less fortunate souls, were downstairs having a dish of corn flakes.
“She said she was going to iron Harry’s clothes, but the last I saw she was bending Tonks’ ear back about something.” The reply floated back. It was followed by a pause which, unfortunately, didn’t last. “That reminds me, what was Tonks saying to you in the hallway about getting ready and seeing you shortly? Ready for what?”
Remus briefly considered banging his head against the nearest wall. Of course, Old Extendable Ears Black would hear that, wouldn’t he? Still the odds had been against him and Tonks getting away without anyone commenting; particularly as Tonks, who never took time to get ready for a duty, was taking an inordinate amount of time to get ready for this one. It was nearly seven now and everyone would soon be appearing for dinner if she didn’t get a move on. She’d literally shot up the stairs, in the direction of the bathroom, at such a speed he’d wondered if everything was all right …
Merlin, he hoped she hadn’t got Buckbeak’s problem, because that would certainly set the night off on a bum note. So to speak.
“Moony? What you doing in there?”
Remus cursed himself for not replying immediately.
He stuck his head out and gave Old Extendable Ears a puzzled frown. ‘I can’t find that big block of cheese. And I was thinking about Kingsley and Emmeline.”
Sirius snorted. “Kingsley’s probably skiving off to avoid her. Wonder what they find to talk about on a patrol.”
“Quite a lot it appears.” Remus kept his voice casual. “Apparently they’re a couple. I did have my suspicions, of course.”
Sirius’s mouth dropped open. The chair he was balancing on wobbled slightly.
“That’s why I felt sorry for Kingsley,” Remus continued blithely. “He was quite cut up about-”
“No!”
“He wanted to spend some time in Devon alone wit -”
“No!”
“But he’s got to work and-”
“You’re bloody kidding me!” Sirius looked at him in complete amazement. “Kingsley’s knocking off Emmeline?”
Remus grinned. “I think that elusive word you’re searching for is ‘courting.’ Bit shocked, are we?”
Sirius gave him a dazed look. “She must be a fair bit older than him.”
“There’s nothing wrong with age gaps. Makes it interesting.” Remus hoped he hadn’t come back too quickly with that one. He also hoped he wasn’t kidding himself. “And Emmeline is very pleasant.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t want to-”
“For which I’m sure she’s eternally grateful.” Remus pretended to give the matter some thought, while still thinking about another. “I was a bit shocked myself to start with, but opposites attract and all that. Emmeline has got a surprisingly wry sense of humour, and she’s always very nice and…stately.”
Sirius gave him a grin, which could only be described as smarmy. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s not that far removed from a young Minerva, is she? I remember you at fifteen hot-footing it to Transfiguration at a million miles an hour. The rest of us couldn’t keep up with you.”
“Minerva was an excellent teacher and I always enjoyed her class.” Remus firmly sent a fleeting image of his teenage self goggling at Professor McGonagall - it was those tartan plaids that always got him - to the outer most reaches of his mind. Hopefully it would get lost there in a passing black hole. “Anything else is a figment of your imagination.”
“You were a figment then, were you? Sat there, saying: ‘Please, Miss! Show us your cat, Miss!’”
“Getting back to the original topic of conversation, just for a minute,” Remus said, coldly. Merlin, he wasn’t going to be able to look Minerva in the face at the next meeting. “Do you think you can ever mix work and romance?”
Sirius pulled a face. “You tell me. You’re the one who thinks she’s stately.” He frowned again and, propping his chin on one hand, assumed a knowledgeable, professor-like expression which, Remus had to admit, he’d certainly earned in this particular subject. “Of course, that type is often very different when the lights are out, and you’d probably see a completely new side to prim and proper Emmeline when that shawl comes off…”
His voice trailed away and his mouth remained slightly open, as though even he had trouble hearing what he’d just said.
Remus felt he was perfectly content with the one side of Emmeline he currently knew, and had no wish to form any four-sided squares in his mind. Or even a triangle. A sidestep seemed to be in order, so he said, “The point is, it’s a real shame for them both.”
“Too right it is. Romantic Thurlestone on a hot and steamy night.” Sirius still had a look of wonder on his face as Remus went back to his bread cutting. “Mind you, it’s good to know that even Emmeline is searching for that same meaningful, overnight relationship we all are.” He rocked back and forth on his chair again. “What about you?”
Remus tried not to slice a couple of fingers off at the unexpected question. He could do this with a wand in a second, but then you ended up with precision cut slices and it was all very mechanical. He wanted to make an effort for Tonks, even if the result was uneven, blood spattered and resembled doorsteps.
“What about me?”
“Do you think that elusive soul mate will come along?”
The bread knife and Remus paused as one to consider this. He could see his reflection in the blade, looking back at him with an enigmatic and faintly quizzical expression. Weren’t soul mates supposed to come along when you least expected them to? Of course, he didn’t expect it at all because it always went wrong, but this thing with Tonks was giving him…What exactly? Hope? Tonks knew the worst about him to start with, that was certainly something new.
It also didn’t appear to faze her in the slightest, which was not only new but unbelievable. Almost surreal. He felt he couldn’t quite trust it sometimes, for that very reason. Other times he positively revelled in it.
Any previous relationships he’d had had always been doomed because they didn’t know, apart from the one girlfriend who’d found out by accident. The moral of that particular story being that you didn’t turn up unannounced at your boyfriend’s house on the night of a full moon, having been previously assured he was out of town, even if you did suspect him of seeing someone else. If you did, you were likely to be confronted with seeing said boyfriend stark naked in his cellar, apparently just about to chain himself to the wall, and with the odd set of handcuffs lying around as well. Remus always felt guilty about never even giving her the chance to yell at him, being far too concerned with making sure she got the hell out of there, and yelling at her instead like a demented…werewolf.
He sometimes wondered how much she’d wished afterwards that it had just been another girl.
The irony was he’d doomed the others himself by being conscious all the while that the issue was permanently there, hanging unspoken between them like a furry black cloud. You could only kid yourself for so long that you were doing things from the best of intentions, before you had to face the undeniable truth that your only intention was to continue being a coward and a liar.
But he’d never lied to Tonks. He never wanted to.
He realised Sirius was watching him closely, still waiting for an answer. The very fact that he’d casually asked a question about a romantic concept that he himself would scoff at and dismiss as “Bollocks!” if it was addressed to him, showed how interested he must be in Remus’ thoughts on the matter. For that very reason, some kind of explanation seemed necessary.
“I don’t expect it to happen,” he said, “for obvious reasons. But as I haven’t expected it not to happen for a long time, I’m wondering if I expect it not to not happen, will that then make it happen? Do you see what I mean?”
“Not in the slightest. I’ll get the linguistic experts round later to examine whatever it was you just said.” Sirius grinned, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. “I still say you’re taking the art of being noble to ridiculous lengths here. And Emmeline’s not going to be too thrilled, getting lumbered with you and your sandwiches, after looking forward to a night of passion in a love shack with Kingsley.”
“Have you seen the Cheddar?”
“I think I ate it all. Does she know or are you springing it on her?”
“You ate it? There was a load here yesterday!”
“I was hungry in the night. I ate irregular food at irregular hours in Azkaban, don’t forget. You certainly didn’t leave scraps for anyone. Anyway I don’t think you making her sandwiches is going to make up for not getting her hands on Kingsley’s-”
“Emmeline’s changed too.” Remus steeled himself and readied the bread knife in case he needed to throw it. “With Tonks.”
The chair thudded heavily back onto all four legs.
“You devious bastard,” Sirius said admiringly.
Remus, very controlled, said, “There’s nothing devious about it. Apparently Emmeline asked her to swap. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, I can believe that! The perfect opportunity just fell into those eagerly grasping hands, didn’t it? Just a shame it was at this time of the month. Not that it’s stopped you for a minute.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you don’t! The fact that you two have been flirting for weeks in front of everyone is just a sheer coincidence.”
“Again, I don’t know what you mean.” Remus felt a warm glow at the assurance Tonks had been flirting with him. So noticeably that people had indeed…noticed.
“No, you’re just Mr Bloody Innocent in all this, as usual.” Sirius was shaking his head in what Remus rather hoped was grudging awe. “So what’s the beautiful maiden doing while lover-boy is making a romantic meal for two? Getting in the mood with those soppy love ballads Molly drives us nuts with? Having a scented bubble bath? Putting on her finest set of lace underwear?”
Remus gave him a severe look, and wondered exactly how much longer the beautiful maiden was planning on keeping lover-boy waiting, and having to put up with this. He’d only forgive her if she really was currently going through the underwear drawer. In the meantime, he was going to have to tell Sirius the facts of life. Or mislead him.
He took a breath. “We’re on duty, you idiot. A perfectly run-of-the-mill, rather boring, night duty. Tonks is a total professional and so am I. Get it into your thick head that work comes first with some of us and takes priority over everything else. We don’t all go around obsessing on our-” He stopped as Sirius didn’t seem to be paying much attention to his sanctimonious little speech. He was fighting a yawn himself. “What?”
“I’ve just remembered-” Sirius looked concerned. “Dinner. Molly wants to do a nice one to try and cheer Harry up. I said I’d check what we’ve got now with all the new supplies. What’s in the pantry?”
Remus resisted the urge to tell him that perhaps everyone would enjoy a dish of cereal. “There are some chops or some chicken-”
The door opened without warning to cut him off mid-sentence and Tonks appeared in the doorway. He started to smile automatically at her, expecting her to stride into the kitchen in her normal breezy fashion, and say “Wotcher!” to the world in general. It took him a moment to realise that after hesitantly walking forward a couple of paces, she’d come to a silent halt. It took him another to work out that she was stood stock-still in a strangely self-conscious fashion.
Tonks wasn’t normally a self-conscious person. You couldn’t be when you could sport lime green hair and a pig’s snout at the same time, and pull both off with style and humour.
His eyes decided to solve this mystery of their own accord and, without asking permission from his brain, began to examine the evidence put before them. The spikes of pink hair were certainly jaunty enough but his eyes pointed out, with a slight sense of shock, that instead of the expected bright t-shirt and slogan, they were viewing a black, bolero-style jacket. His brain briefly said hold on a minute here, mate, but his eyes were already focused on a creamy expanse of skin, and weren’t at all inclined to leave that, even if he had just won the Daily Prophet Draw. There was also a little black top, which didn’t quite reach her waist, and just seemed to be hanging around to show off more … expanse.
His brain decided to provide some useful details and additional commentary, and chipped in with: Merlin, that’s got to be one of those Witches’ Wonder Bras. Bloody hell, mate. Meanwhile, his eyes had continued to make their way unsteadily down a pair of pale blue jeans, and ended up disbelievingly and somewhat exultantly at open toed black sandals. They finally came to a slightly glazed rest on toe nails which were exactly the same pink as her hair.
He couldn’t remember seeing her bare feet before. He’d stake his life on the fact he hadn’t seen that top before. She must want to-
“Chops, you said?” Sirius’s voice broke annoyingly into his increasingly smug thoughts. “Or there’s chicken?”
“In the pantry.” Remus gathered his wits. “There’s some, erm, fillets.”
“Really?” Sirius looked surprised. “I could have sworn they were breasts.”
There was a pause, which Remus gradually realised the onus was definitely on him to fill. He was acutely aware of Sirius’s amused eyes on him, his own on Tonks, and Tonks gazing at the apparently fascinating mid-point on the wall bisecting the two of them.
He had to say the right thing and stop behaving like the teenage idiot who’d once eyed up Minerva in her plaids. The first step was probably to stop brandishing the bread knife in an upright and possibly intimidating manner. He put it down hastily, and wondered why this was so difficult when he could usually do this sort of thing in his sleep.
“Nymphadora,” he said, brightly. “Erm, Tonks.”
“Remus.” She scowled.
There was another pause.
“Sirius,” said Sirius, helpfully. “And, oh look, here’s Molly!”
The matriarch of the Weasley Family bustled in from behind Tonks. She glanced around the room, apparently noticed nothing unusual, and reached for her apron and organisational skills in one brisk movement.
“Really, Sirius,” she said, in scolding tones, while picking up a huge bag of potatoes. “You haven’t even put the cauldron on for me.”
“Oh dear, silly old me in my silly old kitchen.” Sirius’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but then he smiled. “Sorry, Molly. We’ve all been admiring the tremendous effort Tonks has made for a perfectly run-of-the-mill, rather boring night duty. With Remus.”
Molly looked at him, her brow wrinkling in puzzlement, and then she glanced at Tonks. A broad smile broke out on her plump face.
“Why Tonks, dear! Don’t you look nice? Really lovely! Doesn’t she, Remus?”
“Yes,” Sirius grinned. “Doesn’t she, Remus?”
Remus, observing the worsening scowl on Tonks’ face and the slight reddening of her cheeks, suddenly wished they were on their own and the other two would vanish in a puff of smoke.
“Tonks always looks lovely,” he said quietly, and was rewarded when the dark eyes looked swiftly up at him, searching his face with a kind of guarded anxiety.
It occurred to him that she was looking for reassurance he wasn’t making fun of her; and he was touched to the core at the incongruity of the idea, while at the same time surprised how urgently he needed to convey that he was totally, utterly sincere. She studied his expression, a faint crease between her eyebrows as though she was working something out.
Her eyes widened perceptibly and then blinked. A half-smile formed on her lips. Whatever answer she’d got, she was pleased with it.
He felt a thrill go through him. He wanted to leave Grimmauld far behind, and go to a little white Muggle house in Devon right now with this glorious pink-haired witch, whose dark eyes were dancing at him from under her long black lashes.
Sirius, naturally, decided to ruin things by opening his mouth.
“So now we’ve got Moony in his best bib and tucker,” he commentated in a tone of immensely irritating wonder, without bothering to mention that since Remus only had two summer shirts, the choice was hardly extensive. “And just why have you made such an effort, Tonks?” He smirked at her. “Because I know you’re such a professional when it comes to work.”
The face Remus was staring at froze into a glare which, in the fleeting glimpse he caught of it, seemed to be made up in equal parts of embarrassment, defiance and anger. She swung away from him and towards Sirius.
“For your information,” she said, with a jab of her finger to emphasise her words, “this is purely a watch-and-observe duty. It is going to be boring. Run-of-the-mill. It’s also scheduled to end at twelve when Mundungus relieves us. At which point, I intend to head for the excellent Innuendo Night Club, where I will drink too much, dance too much, and remain until chucking out time. I am, therefore, dressed for the occasion. Is that okay with you, Sirius?”
Sirius blinked. Molly, who’d been counting endless potatoes into the cauldron, glanced up in surprise, and decided that whatever was going on it was perfectly obvious whose fault it was.
Under the glare of disapproval from two females on opposite sides of the room, Sirius visibly wilted. “I was only messing around.”
“Yeah, well, stop talking bollocks, or I’ll hex you. You know you should never joke about an Auror and her duty.” Tonks attempted to sound light-hearted, but it seemed a distinct effort.
She glanced in Remus’ direction, without really looking at him. “You ready to go yet? We’re going to be late.”
All things considered - and one of them being the fact he was currently kicking himself for being a conceited ass - Remus thought that was a bit rich. He cut far too big a piece of Stilton, which was hardly the ideal sandwich cheese anyway but appeared to be the only option available, and plonked it on a slice of bread. He added the worst of the tomato bits and slapped another slice on top. The whole thing oozed messily. She’d have fun eating that and then trying to dance for hours.
“I’ve been ready for quite a while, actually,” he said. “Have you got Mad-Eye’s Invisibility Cloak? It won’t be dark for a bit so we can’t just Apparate in as we might frighten some sun-bathing Muggles.”
She nodded, looking rather subdued.
“What about dinner?” said Molly, looking at them both in concern, and then fixing her gaze on Remus. “I’m going to do some chops, if there are any, and veg with new potatoes - your favourite. Haven’t you got time-?”
“Not to worry, Molly.” Remus smiled at her, and moved slightly so that he didn’t have to look at Sirius blowing a kiss and making hair ruffling motions in their direction in the background. “We’ve got to get going and we’ll be fine. Tell Harry I’ll see him in the morning,” he added, in Sirius’ general direction, and started to put the sandwiches in a rucksack.
“Yeah, me too.” Tonks raised her head quickly at his words. “I want to wish him luck, and tell him everything will be okay.”
“Going to be in a fit state after your evening’s entertainment?” Sirius, whose face had clouded over at the mention of Harry, with all signs of previous good humour vanishing instantly, raised his eyebrows. “It’ll be an early morning start.”
“I’m sure I won’t do anything you wouldn’t. On or off duty.” Tonks gave him a mocking but slightly friendlier look. “And my partner can always be relied upon to behave himself and not lead me astray. We’ll both be here, bright and early, after a boring night duty. Won’t we?”
Remus carefully avoided Sirius’s eyes. The thought of trying to lead Tonks astray was an almost irresistible challenge, especially after she’d just made him sound pretty boring himself. Which, he’d be the first to admit, he was nowadays, but she’d never given the impression that she found him so. There had been that look she’d given him where she’d smiled with her eyes as well as her lips, before Sirius had butted in. Perhaps she was trying to deliberately mislead Sirius? Perhaps she could be talked out of her trip to the night club? Perhaps he might even…
“Remus?” Tonks looked at him for confirmation. “We’ll be here, won’t we?”
He smiled. “Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” he agreed politely.
Sirius snorted.
Thurlestone Beach was beautiful. There really was no other word. Remus would have been tempted to think he was dreaming if it wasn’t for the pink-haired witch who was stood next to him on the grassy ridge, watching the same idyllic view with shining eyes.
“Rolling green pastures, winding cliff paths, and miles and miles of golden sand,” she breathed near his ear. “What do you think, Remus?”
He’d never noticed the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose before. But then he’d never stood in the closest of close proximity with her under the silvery folds of the Invisibility Cloak before, either.
“That you’ve turned into Sales Witch of the Year at the Magical Travel Agency.” He grinned at her, thinking that sharing with Mad-Eye certainly never had this effect. “Don’t worry - you’ve sold it to me.”
“I’ve sold it to myself,” she said, dreamily, watching the Muggle families on the beach. They were mostly starting to pack their belongings away, but children were still paddling in the shallows as seabirds circled lazily overhead. “I want one of those little white houses! Trust Dung to have a pad down here! I’m going to have to switch to being a cauldron thief myself; the jammy bugger must be rolling in it!”
Remus laughed. He could tell she wanted to stroll barefoot down that beach nearly as much as he did. It had been years since he’d done anything like that.
“Which one’s ours?” she asked, by his shoulder, looking towards the village, which was glistening under the rays of the evening sun. “Ooh, if it’s one of the ones with the balconies looking out to sea, I may have to consider seducing Dung. It’d be just about worth it, provided I was unconscious throughout, and he signed the property over to me beforehand. Then I’d have to have a quick word with a gullible Hit Wizard.”
Remus narrowly resisted at least ten possible answers to that one, mainly because the directions provided by Kingsley were confusing, to say the least. They seemed to lead away from the actual village, towards nothing in particular, apart from a wide green space.
He turned around to try and get his bearings, which meant Tonks and the Cloak had to come with him.
“What you doing?” she said. “It must be the other way.”
He wasn’t sure. Two hundred and seventeen paces east… There was nothing in front of him but one of those rolling green pastures that stretched as far as the eye could see. He turned again.
“Hey!” said Tonks. “I’m getting dizzy here.” She clutched at his arm, just as he was hesitating about putting his hand in the small of her back, and he steered them both round another ninety degree turn.
“Remind me never to share a broomstick with you,” Tonks grumbled, as the watery-like material of the Cloak settled elegantly round them again. “Bloody male drivers. Where exactly are we going?”
“Up this hill.” Remus, having eliminated any other feasible options, set off. There’d been faint, nagging doubts before, which he’d put down to being tired and cynical, but now he felt the first real prickle of trepidation. He tried to squash it. Just because something sounded too good to be true, didn’t necessarily mean it was.
“But there’s nothing here!”
“There’s that.” Remus pointed at a brown speck in the distance. It looked remarkably like a small barn. Or a shed. Or a possible disaster.
The squashing wasn’t going well. Probably stamping was going to be required -- and thinking about the beautiful girl walking next to him, brushing lightly against him now and then as she moved.
Tonks was peering ahead, with her eyes screwed up. “Of course,” she said, thoughtfully, “I’m being a fool, aren’t I, expecting one of those little white houses? That’s one extremely impressive security effect. Someone who certainly knows what they’re doing has initially Transfigured that building, combined it with a very sophisticated Switching Spell, and then placed a Muggle-Repelling Charm on it, along with an Imperturbable. It’s a perfect mirage for anyone who happens to look at it, not even worthy of a second glance, but I bet you a few Galleons it’s totally different inside. Obviously there’ll be Secrecy Sensors positioned all around it and…am I boring you?” She peered at him anxiously.
“No, far from it.” He smiled to himself. “You talk shop all you want. You forgot to mention an Unplottable Charm, by the way.”
She gave him a swift sideways look, the dark eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re not at all attractive when you’re smug.”
He glanced quickly back. “So am I to infer that if I’m not smug…?”
“Don’t infer - it leads to misunderstandings. Talking of which,” she cleared her throat slightly, “I, erm, lost my rag with Sirius a bit back there.”
“He was trying to wind you up.” He cleared his throat too. “Do you go to that night club often?”
“What?” She tripped slightly over a clump of grass. “Oh, damn. Hang on a minute.” She waved her wand at her sandals and transformed them into a pair of battered black trainers. “I wish you’d warn me in advance when you plan these cross-country jaunts.”
“I wish I’d warned myself.” Remus swerved round something which made him suspect this was normally home to a herd of cows. In the distance were some black and white blobs that, presumably, were the culprits. “Watch where you’re putting your feet.”
“Yeah, you’re telling me.” She tugged at her top as though something was irritating her, and stepped over another heap. “Wonder what our chances are of getting through this lot unscathed?”
“I’d say about fifty-fifty, depending on how good our reactions are. I’m not working out what those twenty or so cows up ahead in a, roughly, ten acre field, can produce for us to dodge. Don’t let me stop you having a go to impress me though.”
“Ooh, statistics!” Tonks grinned. “If you’re the unfortunate Auror consigned to desk duty, you end up compiling them for hours on end as no one ever wants to do it, and always leaves them for the next poor sod. Scrimgeour’s gone mad keen all of a sudden on seeing if we’re achieving our departmental targets. Know any good statistician jokes?”
“Are there any?” Remus raised an amused eyebrow at her.
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Statisticians do it with ninety-five per cent confidence?”
He laughed. “I thought they’d do it when it counts.”
“No, they just probably do it.” She laughed back at him. “I came to the conclusion that statistics mean never having to-”
“-say you’re certain.” They said it together, in perfect unison, and then laughed again. Remus met her eyes, felt the tell-tale squelch as the corner of his shoe caught something, and didn’t care in the slightest.
Tonks was still grinning widely. “So come on! Tell me what you thought when Kingsley told you about him and Emmeline.”
You must be bloody joking, was the honest answer, but Remus was far from sure honesty was the best policy here. He could see a possible hole of indeterminable depth opening up in front of him. This could lead to discussions about unlikely pairings. Age gaps. Professional relationships being ruined. Age gaps. Being told in no uncertain terms this was something she’d never consider doing. Not to mention age gaps.
“Well I didn’t see it coming,” he said, carefully, “but they make an interesting couple. How about you?”
“Merlin, no. Could have knocked me over with one of Molly’s fairy cakes.” Tonks pulled a face, which made Remus try and guess whether it expressed disgust, amusement or both. None of the guesses were particularly reassuring.
“I suppose I should have known when he was going on about her shawl at work one day and said it reminded him of his Gran.” Tonks suddenly snorted. “Why do people always try and hide these things when they fancy each other? Why not come right out and say it? He’s such an actor. I just never thought a hot guy like him would be into the whole dominatrix thing.”
Remus thought rather sourly that there would be no need for men to hide their feelings if women would only make it clear how they felt. Under other circumstances he’d be sympathising with Kingsley and his predicament, but a more mind-boggling thought was taking precedence.
“You, erm, think Emmeline…?”
“Oh, yeah.” Tonks nodded authoritatively, and the Cloak shimmered around her in apparent agreement. “You should have seen the smug little smile she gave me when she was talking about him. Apparently they have such a 'rapport'. I nearly choked! He’s obviously well and truly under the thumb. And he’s such a big, macho guy! I always think it’s the quiet little ones who like that sort of thing.”
A vision of Emmeline, in thigh-length black boots and brandishing a long, curling whip, briefly appeared in Remus’ mind, but was instantly banished when he realised that pinned to her shoulders by a discreet cameo brooch was the ubiquitous emerald green shawl. It really was the stuff of nightmares.
Unfortunately it was replaced by an equally dubious thought. The sudden realisation that all of Peter’s girlfriends at Hogwarts - ‘all’ meaning the one and a half which had qualified beyond any reasonable doubt - had, indeed, been the downright dominating type. It hadn’t been pretty to observe, even from a safe distance, but Peter had been devastated on each occasion when he was chucked in the same rather casual and brutal manner he’d been treated throughout.
Sirius had said it was sickening. Remus had thought it was scary. James had talked about Lily.
Remus pushed his hair out of his eyes. He really didn’t want to think about Peter, either. Unfortunately, that brought him back to the original train of thought and Kingsley, who appeared to have derailed both himself and Emmeline in everyone’s eyes. Once he’d been hot and macho, but now he was a figure of fun for daring to do something unexpected and unconventional. Perhaps even a figure of pity.
Or, far worse, had he made her one?
“Of course,” said Tonks, in a light-hearted manner, as though she might burst out laughing at any moment. “She’s a lot older than him as well.” A wide, wicked grin appeared on her face. “Still they say a witch is only as young as the wizard she feels, don’t they?”
“You know there’s so much against them I don’t know why they’re even bothering,” said Remus briskly. “Unless it’s purely for our entertainment, of course. They should just give up right now. Forty-eight paces north-east.”
“What?” Tonks’ head swung round to look at him.
“Forty-eight paces north-east. We’ve done the two hundred and seventeen.” He waved the bit of parchment at her because at least he was concentrating on the matter in hand. “We’re definitely going to that barn by the way. There’s nothing else.”
He turned, so abruptly that the cloak billowed out behind him and she had to half-run a couple of paces to keep up with his longer strides.
“Remus-”
It was stifling under the cloak. Absolutely melting. The intimacy that he’d been enjoying so much had given way to a feeling that there was nowhere to hide his thoughts from her. He was dripping with sweat, his legs ached and he was older than Kingsley. In fact, he should be the one dating Emmeline, except she’d have too much sense to even consider someone like him in the first place.
“Remus!” Tonks grabbed his arm, which sent a frisson of both pleasure and anger through him. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” He made an effort, which resulted in a vague and dismissive shrug. “It’s just we’re gossiping about colleagues, and I’d prefer to think about the duty, if it’s all the same to you. What did Emmeline tell you about this messenger we’re supposed to watch for?”
She blinked up at him, a frown creasing her forehead, and took her hand away. “Only that he was due at about eleven-forty at the third white house from the end of the row on the right. The whole row should be clearly visible from Dung’s cottage, and there’s supposed to be no way we’ll miss him anyway.”
“Yes, that’s what Kingsley said.” He cut her off, before she could say anything else. “I’ve been given a password to get through the door.”
“I’ve got one as well for a box inside we’re supposed to open once the message has been delivered. Probably some sort of signal for Dung. Are you all right?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” He struggled to keep his tone pleasant.
“You do look tired. I know the moon was only-”
“I’m fine. You look tired yourself.”
Tonks’ dark eyes were hardening by the second. “I’m fine too, thanks. And I’m sorry if you don’t want to pass the time in idle chit-chat with me, but I rather hope Kingsley and Emmeline do make a go of things. They might be an odd couple but at least they’ve got the guts to try. Which is more than you can say for some people.”
Her steps quickened as she walked silently beside him, staring straight ahead, and forcing him to speed up as well. He was aghast at how this had escalated so far in so few words, and how he’d completely misinterpreted not only what she’d said, but what she hadn’t.
“Tonks-”
“We’re here,” she said, coldly, gesturing in front of her. “You’re absolutely right; let’s keep our minds on the job.”
As he hesitated, she added, “Where’s that password of yours?”
Remus stared at her woodenly, seeing firstly only her apparent cool annoyance, and then how her left hand was clenched tightly in one of the Cloak’s silvery pleats. He fumbled in his pocket. If there was one person who he should have known would never be judgemental, it was her.
It was a pity the same couldn’t be said about him.
“It is impressive.” Tonks was nodding her head in crisp approval. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this was a completely run-down shack.”
He stared at her averted face, feeling sick to his stomach. He couldn’t think how to explain the unexplainable without starting by smacking himself on the forehead so, for want of anything better to do, he took a good look at the barn himself.
‘Impressive’ didn’t really do it justice.
It was literally falling to bits. One good gust of wind would surely send the whole lot hurtling towards the sea. The battered wood was caked in sand, and silt and salt, and the door looked like it would collapse if you so much as lent gently against it. A rusty nameplate was hanging on grimly by one remaining nail.
Tonks reached out gingerly and touched it. “‘Primrose Byre,’” she said, thoughtfully. “Certainly looks compact and bijou as well as a right dump. Emmeline said it had rustic charm and she wasn’t kidding. There’s no way Dung’s up to this sort of magic, you know. Someone must have set all this up, if the Order uses it regularly.”
But they don’t. The thought flashed through Remus’ head, but he was far too concerned with more immediate problems. He read the password for a third time and with increasing disbelief. Fair enough, Kingsley had shuffled his feet in embarrassment, and muttered something incoherent about creating it with Emmeline in mind, but what the hell had possessed the man?
He’d thought nothing could ever top inadvertently hearing Arthur say ‘Mollywobbles’ one day - and hearing what Molly said in reply was even worse, though Arthur was certainly hiding his light under a large bushel if it was true - but it seemed you could live and learn, and still be completely gob-smacked. Love certainly was blind because how Kingsley ever planned to say this aloud to Emmeline, of all the unlikely women, and keep a straight face while doing so was quite beyond him.
Tonks chose that moment to try and peer over his shoulder. At least her voice had thawed fractionally. “It’s not in Chinese again, is it? Honestly, Mad-Eye’s security procedures are getting worse. Shall I have a go at it for you?”
Remus swallowed. He was going to kill Kingsley.
“I like trying to get my tongue round things,” said Tonks, with the slightest hint of her former manner, and the faintest flicker of her eyelashes.
“You-saucy-little-minx,” Remus said, very quickly, and looked expectantly at the door so he could dive through it the minute it opened the tiniest fraction.
“What did you say?” Tonks stepped back and gaped at him, her cheeks reddening. “Did you just call me…?”
Remus pushed at the door, which didn’t budge. This was all he needed. Tonks was probably going to hex him into oblivion any minute now. And what was wrong with the damn door? Pulling, shoving and searching for a non-existent door knob had no effect whatsoever.
“Merlin, you’re just full of surprises tonight.” Tonks, unbelievably, reached forward and threaded her arm through his, pressing lightly against him. She tilted her head to one side, and considered him with her dark eyes, wide and questioning. “Do you really think that?”
“It’s the bloody password, Tonks.” Remus aimed a kick at the door out of several kinds of frustration. A few small pieces of wood dropped off at their feet, and dust splattered them both, but the door remained resolutely closed.
“Oh.” Tonks dropped his arm like a hot potato. Any thoughts of snuggling up had clearly been cancelled for the evening, and for the foreseeable future. “Right. Of course.” She whipped the piece of parchment out of his hand before he could stop her. “What about this small but essential line at the bottom? ‘Read slowly and clearly as door is hard of hearing.’ Strikes me, you might be hard of seeing, Professor Lupin.”
She gave him a far from friendly stare, and held the parchment out with her dark brows raised challengingly.
Merlin. Remus pushed his damp hair out of his eyes and cursed himself. And Kingsley. And Kingsley’s idea of either a romantic password, or a stupid joke. And the door. An -
“Are we going to stand out here all night or what?” Tonks demanded. “Sorry - did that make me sound cheeky? Or impudent? Or another, not entirely dissimilar, word?”
Remus sighed. He met her eyes, thought a man could lose himself in those dark depths quite easily, cursed himself again for being a romantic fool and said, very slowly: “You. Saucy. Little. Minx.”
The door swung open with the softest of clicks. Her dark, arched brows went even higher, nearly disappearing into her hairline. The point was perfectly clear.
Neither of them moved; they still stood almost shoulder to shoulder under the confines of the Cloak. He remembered what she’d said about Kingsley and Emmeline at least having the guts to try, and lent slightly against her.
She didn’t budge.
He lent forward, so that the soft spikes of hair brushed against his cheek, and he caught a glimpse of a dark eye watching him cautiously. If she was as confused as he was by some of his actions in the last ten minutes, then it was hardly surprising. She was a compilation of colour and warmth next to him; the pink hair, dark eyes, pale skin and black jacket silhouetted against the silvery-grey background. He could smell the scent she always wore - faint notes of what he thought was lime blossom. It always made him think of a spring day, just after the rain had fallen on the grass and the trees, and the earth and the air were incredibly fresh and sweet-smelling.
Something vital and unique, just like her.
The folds of the Cloak seemed to contract in on them as he lent towards her, and the world was suddenly a small and intimate place for two. His put his lips very close to the lobe of her ear and imagined he could see the tiny hairs quivering inside.
He said, very softly: “The password suits you admirably, Nymphadora.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said automatically, and straightened up immediately, but not before he’d caught the sudden gleam in her eye, and heard the quick indrawn breath she’d taken to match his.
Perhaps he hadn’t blown it after all, and she really did want this as much as he did. A luxury room or rooms awaited them, they had hours to go yet, the easiest of duties to complete…
And who was to say it wouldn’t all end with a stroll down that beach?
She was biting her lip now, apparently fascinated by something around waist level in the folds of the Cloak. There was colour in her cheeks, and she wore that same guarded expression he’d seen earlier in the kitchen. Aware of his scrutiny, she raised her head slowly and met his gaze.
Her face might be grave but the dark eyes were dancing at him again, lit from within.
“After you,” he said, and smiled at her.
( Chapter Two )