Fic Update: "Transformations," Chapter 9: Reunion
Title: Transformations, chapter 9
Characters/Pairings: Remus, Tonks, Sirius, Andromeda, Bill, Remus/Tonks, some Bill/Fleur.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, swearing, mild sexuality
Summary: After months of friendship, Remus and Tonks have begun a romance. After years of isolation Sirius is surrounded by friends and family. After years of estrangement, Andromeda is building a new friendship with her daughter. What more can stand in the way of their living happily ever after? New mysteries, family conflicts, and the complex and little-known werewolf subculture--that's what.
Author's Notes: Thanks, as ever, to my beta reader shimotsuki.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Previously, in “Transformations”: Remus and Tonks make up after their argument, and they exchange information about the mystery surrounding the werewolf brothels. Tonks joins her parents at the Malfoys' annual Christmas party. She searches Lucius's office for Death Eater secrets, and he confronts her with threats and sexual advances. Andromeda notices the tension between Lucius and her daughter. Tonks meets with Scrimgeour about the werewolf brothels, and he says his hands are tied--Fudge has ordered him to stay out of it.
Chapter 9: Reunion
On Christmas Eve, when Nymphadora was (yet again) late for dinner, Andromeda refrained from commenting. They had important things to discuss, and she didn’t want to start the night off on the wrong footing.
After a pleasant dinner the whole Tonks family settled around the living room fire with tea and biscuits. When Ted finished telling a story about one of his mates who was planning a diving expedition to prove the existence of the Loch Ness Monster, Nymphadora broke in. “Dad? I have an Apothecary question.”
“Is it that rash again?”
“Dad! I haven’t had that rash in nearly three years!”
Ted chuckled. “Good thing, too, or you’d have a hard time explaining yourself to any bloke you let get past second base.”
Andromeda and Nymphadora rolled their eyes in unison, while Ted had a good laugh. “You see what I’ve put up with for nearly a quarter century now?” said Andromeda, giving her daughter an exasperated look.
“You’re a saint, Mum.”
“And I,” said Ted, taking Andromeda’s hand, “am a very lucky man.”
Even after all this time Andromeda could still feel a burst of warm tingles when he looked at her like that. She smiled at him as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Do I need to give you two some privacy?” said Nymphadora.
“Not at all, Dora,” said Ted. “So what was that question of yours?”
Nymphadora paused to take another sip of tea. Then she said, “I was just wondering-how much do you charge for a month’s supply of Wolfsbane Potion?”
Andromeda’s spine stiffened. “Wolfsbane? What do you need Wolfsbane for?”
“It’s not for me, Mum,” said Nymphadora in an exasperated tone. “Don’t throw a fit, or anything. So what do you charge, Dad?”
Ted scratched at the back of his ear, they way he always did every time he had to talk about money. “Well,” he said, “I only charge what I have to. I don’t raise the price through the roof, like some do.”
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”
“What your father means to say is: he sells the potion at cost. It’s one of his favorite acts of philanthropy. Which is why we have the distinction of attracting more werewolf clients than any other Apothecary in England,” answered Andromeda.
“How many is that?”
“Fourteen,” said Ted.
“And it’s an extraordinary amount of work to produce fourteen batches of Wolfsbane potion, only to sell it at cost,” said Andromeda. “Which I believe is…13 Galleons?”
“Thirteen Galleons, nine Sickles,” said Ted. “And I’d give it to them for free, if I could afford it. Bloody Ministry makes laws that practically force them into unemployment, and then won’t even provide their blooming potion for them. Damn idiot bureaucrats. And I know that for each of those poor souls that can pull together the thirteen Galleon nine each month, there’s two more that can’t.”
“And then there’s the Muggle werewolves,” said Nymphadora.
“Muggle werewolves? Surely there can’t be many of those, can there?” asked Andromeda.
Nymphadora got a distant look in her eyes. “There’s more than you’d ever guess.”
“I had no idea,” Andromeda replied. “I never thought of it.”
“No one ever does,” said Nymphadora.
They all sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Then Ted spoke up. “So was there someone in particular who has a need of some Wolfsbane?”
Nymphadora nodded. “An old school chum of mine. I ran into him at St. Mungo’s earlier this month, when I went in to get patched up a bit. He was bitten last month.”
Ted shook his head. “Poor bugger. How’s he holding up?”
“Not well. His family disowned him when they found out.”
Andromeda gritted her teeth. That was an experience that she knew far too much about. “That’s absurd. What kind of parents would turn on their child when he needs them the most?”
“Bad ones,” said Ted, pointedly.
Andromeda sighed. She had no desire for this to turn into another of Ted’s trademark tirades against her family. “Dad might be able to fit in one more batch of Wolfsbane each month, if he makes Monty bear more of the load that time of month. Do you think Monty is up to it, dear?”
Ted nodded. “He is. And he’d like the extra hours. But if I took on an extra Wolfsbane I might have to raise everyone’s price by a sickle apiece to make up for paying Monty for his extra work. I don’t know if I could do that to them…”
“Don’t worry about it yet, Dad. I’m pretty sure that he can’t afford it,” said Nymphadora.
“If you find that he can, we’ll make it work somehow.”
Andromeda had known he would say it. He would say the same if Nymphadora had showed up with a whole pack of half a dozen new werewolves on her heels, asking for the potion. That was his way.
“Thank you, Dad. I’ll talk to him about it,” Nymphadora said with a smile.
“Anything for a friend of yours,” said Ted. “Is he talking to Werewolf Support Services, yet?”
Tonks blinked. “I don’t know.”
“If he’s not, he should. Tell him to get a hold of Sarah Browning-she’s the head of Werewolf Support Services at the Ministry. Maybe you can stop by her office for him. Though St. Mungo’s has probably already contacted her on his behalf. But it’s worth looking in to, one way or another. A good woman, Sarah Browning. She’ll take good care of him.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said.
A while later, after they had all started getting ready for bed, Andromeda slipped on her dressing gown. “I’m going to go see if Nymphadora is still up,” she said. “We need to have a little girl to girl chat.”
“All right, love,” said Ted, sitting up in bed with a magazine. “Should I come running when I hear the shouting-or should I wait until I you start breaking things?”
Andromeda glared at him. “We haven’t had a row in-” she paused, thinking. It really had been a long time. The longest time in between fights since Nymphadora finished school. “Why, I think it’s been more than six months.”
“Really?” said Ted, looking up from his magazine. “That long? Has a new era in mother-daughter relations really begun?”
“I hope so,” she said.
“Well, good luck, then,” he said, smiling. “Maybe I won’t have to play referee after all.”
Andromeda headed down the hall to the room that Nymphadora had called her own since they first bought the house, when she was six years old. She knocked lightly on the door.
“Come in,” came Nymphadora’s voice.
Andromeda opened the door, and slipped inside. Nymphadora was sitting on her bed, looking at an old book. “Oh,” she said, looking up. “Hello, Mum. What’s up?”
Andromeda sat on the chair next to the bed, and spoke hesitantly. “I just-there was something I wanted to talk to you about without your father around.”
Nymphadora closed her book. “Okay. But it better not be the ‘when are you giving me grandchildren’ talk, because if it is you had better just leave right now,” she said with a lighthearted smirk on her face.
Would the girl never let them have a civilized talk without interjecting her snide remarks? “It’s not. I promise.”
“Good,” said Nymphadora, smugly. She folded her arms, and leaned back against her headboard. “So, what’s on your mind?”
Andromeda wasn’t sure there was any tactful way to broach this particular subject, so she decided to take the frank approach and dived right in. “Has Lucius been harassing you?” she asked.
Nymphadora’s eyes widened, and she blinked in surprise. “What?”
“I saw the way he was looking at you Saturday night-and the way you were looking at him. Is that why you were so upset? Did he try something? Was he trying to seduce you?”
Nymphadora flushed, and looked down, biting her bottom lip. “How did you know?” she asked.
“Because he spent more than five years harassing me with that same nonsense. By now I know all of his looks, and it makes me sick to my stomach to see him giving those same looks to you that he used to give to me. And at his own house, for Merlin’s sake. The man is shameless.” As she spoke, Nymphadora had looked back up at her with a stunned expression.
“He really used to try to get you to sleep with him?”
“Don’t look so surprised. He’s a scoundrel at heart, and always will be. Some things never change,” replied Andromeda.
“I always thought it was just me,” said Nymphadora, softly.
“Unfortunately, no. And we’re not alone. He’s a notorious flirt.”
“I wouldn’t call it flirting.” Nymphadora folded her arms across her chest with a sullen look on her face.
Andromeda shook her head. “Merlin knows why, but there are some women who seem to enjoy his attentions.”
“I can’t imagine why. Does Aunt Cissy know about all this?”
Andromeda shook her head. “I have no idea. I’ve never dared bring it up. To tell you the truth, I’m not convinced that he’s ever really cheated on her.”
She could tell from the look on Nymphadora’s face that she wasn’t so sure.
Andromeda looked pointedly at her. “I know my sister. She’d never tolerate any actual infidelity if she knew of it. But I don’t think she’d discourage him from his rather twisted form of flirting, either. I think she considers it a prize, to have a man who is still sought after by so many other women.”
“That’s sick.”
“That’s life as a pureblood. All the old families are riddled with this sort of corruption and eccentricity. Lucius’s particular proclivity is playing mind-games with people. It makes him feel powerful. And the mind-game he chose for me was sexual harassment. He knew I’d never hurt my sister by telling her about it, so in his mind that gave him free rein to go out of his way to make me as uncomfortable as possible. Apparently, he’s decided to do the same thing to you. Bastard.”
She looked sadly at her daughter, who still looked slightly dazed. “How long has this been going on?” This was the real question, and she was afraid of the answer. Nymphadora had started to refuse to be a part of visits with the Malfoys when she was fifteen. It couldn’t have been going on for that long, could it?
Nymphadora looked down again. “A long time,” she replied.
Oh dear.
“Has he…did he ever…do anything to you? Did he ever hurt you?” Andromeda asked, holding her breath.
Nymphadora shook her head. “No. He tried, a few times. But I never let him.”
Thank Merlin for that, at least, thought Andromeda, letting out her breath. No wonder she hated me. I forced to her go to that house. I forced her to be near that man. And all the while, he was harassing her behind my back. Damn him!
“I’m so, so, sorry,” she said.
“No, Mum. You don’t need to say that.”
“Yes, I do. I should have noticed. I should have done something…”
“This is exactly why I never told you. Because I knew you would blame yourself. But it’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault but his.”
As grateful as Andromeda was to hear this, it did little to alleviate her sense of personal responsibility. “Well,” she said at last, “one thing is certain. Lucius Malfoy will never again step foot in this house. And I will never again set foot in his. If Narcissa wants to see me, she’ll have to come here by herself.”
Nymphadora nodded. “We’ll all be better off without him around.”
Andromeda felt another pang of guilt. “Yes, we will. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mum.” Nymphadora reached out to take her hand. Andromeda treasured the spontaneous touch of comfort and affection. She was always envious when she saw her friends casually embracing their daughters. It was easy to take that sort of thing for granted.
“Thank you, for telling me the truth.”
Nymphadora smiled slightly. “And thank you for telling me that I’m not alone in this. How in the world did you ever get him to leave you alone?”
The corners of Andromeda’s mouth turned up. “Have you ever heard of the limp-noodle hex?”
Nymphadora snorted in laughter. “No-but I like the sound of it!”
“I’ll have to teach it to you sometime.”
“Yes, please!”
After a short laugh, Andromeda decided it was time to bring up the second reason for her girl-talk. “I also wanted to ask,” she said, “have you been able to work out a time with Dumbledore yet for me to see Sirius?”
Once again, Nymphadora looked as if she had been taken by complete surprise. “Oh. No. Not yet,” she stammered. “What I mean to say is: we’re still working out the details.”
Andromeda clenched her teeth. “You haven’t even asked Dumbledore yet-have you?”
“Mum-there have been a lot of really important things happing in my life lately…”
“More important than helping me reunite with the cousin that was as close to me as a brother?”
Nymphadora froze, and her defensive posture relaxed. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I got busy, and preoccupied, and I forgot. I’m sorry.”
Andromeda nodded tersely. She wanted to get angry, but that would do nothing but ruin the new rapport that they had only just achieved, so she held it in.
“I’ll speak to him about this the next time I see him. I promise,” said Nymphadora.
“Do you think you could try a little harder to see him a little sooner?” asked Andromeda.
“Yes,” replied her daughter, meekly. “Yes, I can.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Nymphadora nodded.
“Well,” said Andromeda, rising, “this has been a good talk. Thank you.”
“Yeah, it has. Thanks Mum.”
“Goodnight, Nymphadora.”
“Goodnight.”
****
The Christmas morning trip to St. Mungo’s had gone smoothly, and now the whole lot of them, all wearing their new knitted jumpers from Molly, stood gathered around Arthur, visiting amiably. Remus looked around the ward and saw a pale, dark-haired young man sitting in a bed across from Arthur. He was staring at the large pack of friends and family with a look of longing on his face. This was undoubtedly Nymphadora’s friend, Ethan.
He slipped quietly out of the throng, and strode across the room to Ethan’s bed.
“Hello,” he said. “You must be Ethan Bulstrode?”
The young man tensed up, looking at him suspiciously. “Yes, yes I am.”
“I’m Remus-Tonks’s friend.”
“Oh!” said Ethan, brightening considerably. “I didn’t know she had told any of her friends about me.”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
He shook his head, and shrugged a little. “I don’t know. I just wouldn’t expect that she’d want to admit to being friends with…someone like me.”
Remus looked at Ethan quizzically. “She didn’t tell you about me, did she?”
Ethan looked taken aback. “No-was she supposed to?”
Remus smiled. The utter absurdity of the accusations he had made to Nymphadora about her using Ethan to prove herself to him was now obvious. If she had really planned on dragging him in here to show off her charity to other werewolves, she doubtlessly would have told Ethan all about him, making promises to bring him in. And now, it seemed that out of respect for him she hadn’t yet even mentioned his name. Remus shook his head. “No. She wasn’t supposed to. I just thought she might have. You see-she is one of my dearest friends. And I-like you-am also a werewolf.”
Ethan’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t...You don’t…I never would have guessed. You don’t look like what I’d expect a werewolf to look like. Not at all.”
“I think you’ll find,” said Remus, “that there really aren’t any werewolves that look like what you’d expect-with one or two possible exceptions.”
Ethan appeared to digest this information for a minute. “So, how did you and Tonks get to be friends?”
“We met through another mutual friend.” He paused, and smiled. “I know you must be thinking she’s the sort of girl who likes to seek out werewolves out of some sort of sick fascination, or something. But I assure you, she is not. We actually became friends before she knew about my condition.”
“And she didn’t get-you know-frightened off?” asked Ethan, incredulously.
“It would take a great deal more than a once a month malady to turn Tonks against her friends,” said Remus, feeling suddenly more grateful for her, and for the other friends that had stood by him over the years.
Ethan’s eyes fell. Remus couldn’t fathom how difficult this must be for him. Remus had at least always had his family, and for most of his life had had a number of friends as well. But this poor young man had been abandoned by everyone who should have been his most stalwart supports. No wonder Nymphadora felt so compelled to help him. If they didn’t, who would?
“I know it doesn’t seem like it right now,” said Remus, “but it will get easier. Once you adjust to things, and start understanding how to deal with the different reactions that you’ll get from people, it does get easier.”
Ethan looked back up. “How long have you been… you know?”
Remus glanced down at his hands. “I was bitten when I was six years old.”
Ethan’s eyes grew wide. “Six years old? That’s practically your whole life.”
Remus nodded. “If you think this is terrifying for you-just imagine how terrifying it was for a six year old child. But I was fortunate-my parents stood by me, and did all that they could to help me over the years. I understand that you weren’t so blessed.”
Ethan sank bank against the wall. “I was always the black sheep of my family. They were probably glad to finally have an excuse to be rid of me.”
“Old blood, the Bulstrodes, aren’t you?”
“Too old. Decaying. And full of exaggerated pride.”
“I have a friend from a family like yours. He left home as soon as he turned seventeen and gained an inheritance from one of his uncles,” Remus paused, uncertain if this story was really as applicable as he had hoped. “And… in the end…he suffered for his differences, just like you are suffering for yours. It’s a difficult lot, leaving your heritage behind you.”
Remus hesitated again. It was difficult to know just what to say. Would his words bolster Ethan up, or would they leave him feeling worse than before? “Try to keep in mind that without so-called ‘black sheep’ like you and my friend, the old blood families will never change and our society will always be controlled by their outdated ideas. We need people like you, for the sake of future generations. Your struggles won’t be for nothing.”
“Now you’re just being patronizing. I am neither a child, nor an idealist. I understand perfectly well that sometimes people struggle and suffer and no one ever benefits from it. Sometimes suffering is just suffering. Besides, I was never much of a rebel-just a misfit.”
Remus smiled. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to patronize. I’m not very good at this sort of thing. I suppose I don’t really know what will help. Do you have any suggestions?”
Ethan stared quietly across the room. Finally, he asked, “Will you tell me about the transformation? What it’s really like?”
Remus took a deep breath. “You sure you really want to know?”
Ethan looked into his eyes and gave a firm nod. “Yes. Please.”
Remus took another deep breath. He should have known this was coming. But there was no getting out of it. So he sat up straight, and prepared to take on the unpleasant task of telling Ethan the truth about what he would now experience every full moon for the rest of his life.
****
Tonks found that Christmas morning with her parents went smoothly, and she actually enjoyed her time with her mother more than she had in years. She was starting to see that they might not be as different as she once thought. Her mum and dad were sad that she had to leave early in the afternoon, but she had things to take care of.
First, she paid Cory and Danny a quick visit to deliver some presents. Geoffrey looked as if he had grown two inches since she last saw him. After an all too brief hour with her friends, she excused herself. She needed to get on with some business.
Her next stop was Saint Mungo’s, to offer some Christmas cheer to Ethan.
“Happy Christmas!” she said, striding up to him with some brightly wrapped packages and a large gift basket.
She watched in pleasure as Ethan unwrapped his gifts-an assortment of clothes and household items. “I thought you could use some things to get you started off once we get you into your own flat.”
“Thank you,” said Ethan, looking morose. Tonks hadn’t expected him to be terribly chipper, but it was still disheartening to see him so depressed on the holiday.
“I wish there was more I could do,” she said. “I know today must be especially hard for you.”
“It is. But really, you’re doing more than I ever would have expected from anyone. It means a lot. Thank you.” He still sounded sad, but also sincere.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “And I wish I could bring you better news from the Ministry, but my department head insists that your case is out of our jurisdiction. He did promise to pester the boys over at Magical Law Enforcement. We’ll just have to wait and see if anything comes of it.”
Ethan grimaced. “That’s as much as I could’ve expected.”
“Have you been in contact with Werewolf Support Services?” Tonks asked.
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Sarah Browning has been to see me three times. She’s trying to find a flat for me, and a job, but she hasn’t been having much success.”
“Maybe I’ll swing by and see if there’s anything I can do to help her.”
“Thank you. And your friend came by.”
Tonks sat up straight in surprise. “My friend?”
“Remus Lupin. He is a friend of yours-isn’t he? I though you must have asked him to come by,” said Ethan.
“Yes. He is. And I told him about you, but I didn’t ask him to come by. He did that on his own.” And she was surprised he had. She couldn’t restrain her smile, knowing that Remus had followed her lead and quietly visited Ethan on his own.
“I’m glad that he did,” said Ethan. “He finally gave me some frank answers to questions that everyone else kept avoiding. And he agreed to come here for my first transformation.”
Tonks was completely taken aback. She had once asked Remus why he didn’t transform at the free facility provided at St. Mungo’s, and had been treated to a half-hour tirade on the horrors of those communal transformations. It was an act of amazing compassion for him to undertake on Ethan’s behalf.
“Is it cowardly of me,” asked Ethan, “to want someone I know to be with me for my first transformation?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s not cowardly. It’s just human.”
She talked with Ethan for nearly an hour more, doing her best to cheer him. But, if her afternoon went according to plan, he would soon have something much better than her company to cheer him. Though Remus’s visit hadn’t seemed to cheer him much, at least it had seemed to help him understand and accept his condition better.
After leaving St. Mungo’s she went back to her flat to change. She put on her most sedate and professional gray business robes-the ones she had worn to her interviews for the Auror training program four years ago-and changed her hair to a respectable ebony bob. It was time to pay some unexpected visits.
Her first stop was a stately London townhouse in a neighborhood full of old wizarding families. The door was opened by a house elf in a neat tea-towel toga.
“Hello, are Mr. and Mrs. Bulstrode in this afternoon?” she asked.
“The Master and Mistress are busy with the holiday festivities,” squeaked the elf. “May I ask your business here?”
She nodded. “I’m Auror Tonks, from the Ministry. I need to speak to them about an important matter of business.”
“I’ll inform them at once,” said the elf, “Please come in.”
The elf left her waiting in the foyer, while it went to collect its masters. She restlessly shuffled her feet on the marble floor, and stared around the high-ceilinged entryway. It was nearly as grand as Malfoy Manor, and she knew that was the standard most of this lot compared themselves to. Chances were the Bulstrodes had been among the Malfoys’s plethora of guests the other night-they looked like the type Lucius would be willing to associate with.
A few minutes later a short and thick swarthy black-mustached man strode down the hall toward her and a thin, willowy woman with streaks of white in her brown hair pattered nervously behind him. These were undoubtedly Ethan’s parents.
“I am Donald Bulstrode,” said the man as he approached her. “What can I help you with today, Auror Tonks? What could be so serious that it brings you here on Christmas day?” His tone was one of frustration at having his holiday interrupted. He stopped a few paces in front of her, and folded his arms in what Tonks assumed he meant to be a threatening manner across his broad chest.
Heartless bastard. Yes, it’s a horrible inconvenience to have your Christmas interrupted, but it’s of no consequence that your son is withering from loneliness in St. Mungo’s while you sit in your fancy house, sipping mulled wine. “I’m sorry that I had to use my official position to gain entry, Mr. Bulstrode-Mrs. Bulstrode,” she added, nodding to the willowy woman now hovering behind her stocky husband. “But my business here is not official-it is more of a personal nature.”
“Personal?” said Mr. Bulstrode. “What personal business could you possibly have with us?” He looked her up and down with a sneer of contempt.
“I’m a friend of your son, Ethan,” she said flatly.
Mrs. Bulstrode gasped, and raised a hand to her mouth. Mr. Bulstrode raised a hand sharply, to silence his wife, and then glared at Tonks. “He is no longer my son. We don’t speak his name in this house. Now please leave my home.”
“Not until you agree to go speak to him,” she said, stepping forward. “Just once-go speak to him. It’s inhuman of you to abandon your son like this without ever once even talking to him, to say goodbye.”
“I have nothing to say to that creature,” snarled Mr. Bulstrode. His wife whimpered. He continued, “He brought this on himself, and now he has to face it by himself. I told him not to meddle where he had no right to meddle, and he turned his back on me.”
“So that gives you the right to turn your back on him?”
“Yes!” The look in his eyes was fierce. Another man, who looked very much like Ethan, had stepped into the hall, and a swarthy young girl had followed him. Would Ethan’s siblings be willing to see reason, even if his father did not? Or maybe, his mother would listen.
“Mrs. Bulstrode-surely you can’t just leave your son like this?” said Tonks, imploring.
“How dare you address my wife!” said Mr. Bulstrode, just as Ethan’s brother began striding up the hall toward them, crying, “Leave my mother out of this!”
Mrs. Bulstrode now stepped forward, looking Tonks in the eye. With a quavering voice, she said, “My son is dead. He is dead. Please leave us alone.”
Mr. Bulstrode wrapped a protective arm around his wife. “Leave my house. Now. Or my son and I will throw you out.”
Tonks looked around at the angry faces staring her down. It was hopeless. They had given up on Ethan completely.
She shook her head, turned on her heel, and without another word stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. She walked briskly down the street away from the house, taking deep breaths of the cold air to try to calm the rage that she felt building up inside her chest.
How could anyone turn their back on their own son so abruptly? She was beginning to understand why her father was still so bitter toward her Black grandparents.
After a few minutes of walking off her anger, she was able to calm down enough to start thinking about her next visit. Hopefully this one would go better than her first had.
A few Apparation points later, she found herself striding down a snowy path to a large country house surrounded by a frosty glade of trees. It was the Prewett house. She had come to find Ethan’s fiancée-Beatrice Prewett.
This time her knock was answered by the sound of barking dogs, and pounding feet. A pair of boys that looked to be around ten and thirteen pulled the door open to stare at her with sparkling eyes.
“Wotcher, boys,” she said, smiling. Already this house was looking more promising than the last. “Is Beatrice here?”
The littler boy nodded solemnly, and the older said, “Yeah. She’s helping Mum make dinner. Who are you? One of her friends from London?”
“Yeah. More of a friend of a friend, really. I need to talk to Beatrice about something very important. Could you go fetch her for me?” she asked.
The little one nodded. “I’ll get her!” he said, scampering off down the hall, with two floppy-eared dogs loping behind him.
“Want to come in, then?” said the older boy, standing aside for her.
“Sure. Thanks,” she replied, stepping inside the cozy entryway, and letting the boy close the door behind her. This house was far less imposing than the Bulstrode townhouse had been, and seemed to be decorated as much for comfort as for appearances. Yes-she was having a much better feeling about this visit.
The boy stood near the door, staring at her. “Having a good Christmas?” she asked him.
He nodded. “Yeah. Not as many presents as last year, though. Mum says it’s ‘cause these ones were bigger presents. I got a broom. A Cleansweep. I’m going out for Quidditch next year, so I need to practice.”
“Good luck with that,” she said. “The Cleansweeps are good brooms.”
He shrugged. “Better than using my dad’s old broom.”
A pretty raven-haired young woman now emerged from a door at the end of the hall. She had the same sparkling eyes and ruddy cheeks as her brothers, and Tonks thought that she recognized her as being a year or two behind her at Hogwarts.
Beatrice’s face took on a puzzled expression as she reached Tonks. “Hello,” she said. “I’m sorry-I feel like I should know you, but I can’t quite remember your name.”
Tonks held out her hand, and Beatrice shook it politely. “I’m Tonks. We were in school at the same time.”
“Ohhh,” she replied. “I remember you. On the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, right?”
“That’s me,” said Tonks.
“So what brings you here today?” asked Beatrice.
“Actually,” said Tonks, “it’s about Ethan.”
Beatrice went immediately stiff, and her face grew pale. “Go back to the kitchen, Bert,” she said to her younger brother.
“How come?”
“Just go!” she insisted.
“Fine.” He slouched off back down the hall.
Beatrice turned back to Tonks, looking her in the eyes. “Is he… has anything happened to him?” she asked, quietly.
“Nothing new,” replied Tonks. “Why haven’t you been to see him, Beatrice?”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’ve wanted to,” she said. “Every day, I’ve wanted to.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
Beatrice looked down. “At first, I was too afraid. But then I went to the library to do some reading on his…condition. And some of what I read made me even more afraid. But some of it made it sound like most of the time he would still be…normal.”
Tonks nodded. “He is normal. He’s still the man you love, Beatrice. And he still loves you. It hurts him more than anything that you haven’t been to see him yet.”
The tears started to trace their way down Beatrice’s cheeks, and her face was turning red. “I know, I know,” she said. “I don’t know what to do! I still love him so much-but daddy never liked him, and now he says that there’s no way a daughter of his will be allowed to marry a werewolf. He and mum keep saying that I should just forget him, and move on. But how can I move on? I love him! Oh God, I don’t know what to do!”
She sank into a chair near the door, and buried her face in her hands.
“You need to come see him, Beatrice,” said Tonks, leaning over the sobbing young woman, and placing a hand on her shoulder. “You need to see him again, and decide for yourself. You can’t let your parents make up your mind for you.”
The girl continued to sob into her hands. Clearly, she wanted to go see her fiancé again, but Tonks wasn’t sure if she had the spine to stand up to her parents.
A middle-aged woman now emerged into the hall. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Beatrice sobbing by the door. “What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” she said, hurrying toward them.
Tonks stood up straight to face her. “I’m a friend of Ethan’s,” she said, “and I came to tell Beatrice how much he wants to see her again.”
“How dare you!” said the woman. “How dare you do this to her on Christmas day?”
“How dare you stop your daughter from seeing her fiancé on Christmas day when he is alone and miserable in a hospital ward!” replied Tonks, the hot anger welling back up in her chest.
“That man is no longer my daughter’s fiancé, and she is better off without him,” said Beatrice’s mother.
“Oh Mama,” sobbed Beatrice. “Tonks is right. I need to go to him. Please!”
“You will do no such thing!” said the woman. She turned back to Tonks. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. You’ve addled my daughter’s brain enough for one day.”
Tonks bit her lip to stifle the sharp retort on her tongue. Instead, she drew a card out of her pocket and pressed it into Beatrice’s hand. “This is my address,” she said. “If you ever need anyone to talk to about all this, please don’t hesitate to contact me. And don’t forget, you’re a grown woman. You can make up your own mind.”
“Are you going to leave, or do I need to call my husband?” asked Beatrice’s mother.
“Don’t trouble yourself. I’m going.” She turned to Beatrice one last time. “Don’t ever let anyone make your decisions for you, Beatrice, or you may regret it for the rest of your life.” With that, she turned and let herself out the door.
Tonks went straight home to her flat, and collapsed on her sofa. This was shaping up to be one of her worst Christmases ever-second only to the Christmas when she was fifteen and her mother had forced her to spend the day at the Malfoys’ house. Draco had pestered her ceaselessly, and when she finally escaped from him, Lucius tracked her down to give her a “special” gift in the form of a slinky nightgown and a not-so-chaste kiss under the mistletoe. No, this Christmas couldn’t top that-but it was coming close.
Beatrice seemed like a nice enough girl, but she didn’t appear to have much of a spine. The likelihood of getting her to defy her parents to reconcile with Ethan didn’t seem very high. All of Tonks’s great plans to bring Ethan some Christmas cheer in the form of visits from his family and fiancée appeared to have collapsed in utter failure.
Molly had invited her to Christmas dinner at headquarters, but she had declined, expecting to be at St. Mungo’s witnessing a happy reunion. Tonks supposed she could still go, but she wasn’t really in the mood for a house full of happy Weasleys. Instead, she decided to stay home, and wait for Remus to come over later as they had planned. She went to her refrigerator and pulled out a carton of store-bought eggnog. She poured herself a glass, spiked it with some booze, and raised it in a mock toast. “Here’s to happy families,” she said to herself.
After finishing her drink, she curled up on the sofa in front of her fire, and soon was fast asleep.
Chapter 10
Characters/Pairings: Remus, Tonks, Sirius, Andromeda, Bill, Remus/Tonks, some Bill/Fleur.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, swearing, mild sexuality
Summary: After months of friendship, Remus and Tonks have begun a romance. After years of isolation Sirius is surrounded by friends and family. After years of estrangement, Andromeda is building a new friendship with her daughter. What more can stand in the way of their living happily ever after? New mysteries, family conflicts, and the complex and little-known werewolf subculture--that's what.
Author's Notes: Thanks, as ever, to my beta reader shimotsuki.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Previously, in “Transformations”: Remus and Tonks make up after their argument, and they exchange information about the mystery surrounding the werewolf brothels. Tonks joins her parents at the Malfoys' annual Christmas party. She searches Lucius's office for Death Eater secrets, and he confronts her with threats and sexual advances. Andromeda notices the tension between Lucius and her daughter. Tonks meets with Scrimgeour about the werewolf brothels, and he says his hands are tied--Fudge has ordered him to stay out of it.
Chapter 9: Reunion
On Christmas Eve, when Nymphadora was (yet again) late for dinner, Andromeda refrained from commenting. They had important things to discuss, and she didn’t want to start the night off on the wrong footing.
After a pleasant dinner the whole Tonks family settled around the living room fire with tea and biscuits. When Ted finished telling a story about one of his mates who was planning a diving expedition to prove the existence of the Loch Ness Monster, Nymphadora broke in. “Dad? I have an Apothecary question.”
“Is it that rash again?”
“Dad! I haven’t had that rash in nearly three years!”
Ted chuckled. “Good thing, too, or you’d have a hard time explaining yourself to any bloke you let get past second base.”
Andromeda and Nymphadora rolled their eyes in unison, while Ted had a good laugh. “You see what I’ve put up with for nearly a quarter century now?” said Andromeda, giving her daughter an exasperated look.
“You’re a saint, Mum.”
“And I,” said Ted, taking Andromeda’s hand, “am a very lucky man.”
Even after all this time Andromeda could still feel a burst of warm tingles when he looked at her like that. She smiled at him as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Do I need to give you two some privacy?” said Nymphadora.
“Not at all, Dora,” said Ted. “So what was that question of yours?”
Nymphadora paused to take another sip of tea. Then she said, “I was just wondering-how much do you charge for a month’s supply of Wolfsbane Potion?”
Andromeda’s spine stiffened. “Wolfsbane? What do you need Wolfsbane for?”
“It’s not for me, Mum,” said Nymphadora in an exasperated tone. “Don’t throw a fit, or anything. So what do you charge, Dad?”
Ted scratched at the back of his ear, they way he always did every time he had to talk about money. “Well,” he said, “I only charge what I have to. I don’t raise the price through the roof, like some do.”
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”
“What your father means to say is: he sells the potion at cost. It’s one of his favorite acts of philanthropy. Which is why we have the distinction of attracting more werewolf clients than any other Apothecary in England,” answered Andromeda.
“How many is that?”
“Fourteen,” said Ted.
“And it’s an extraordinary amount of work to produce fourteen batches of Wolfsbane potion, only to sell it at cost,” said Andromeda. “Which I believe is…13 Galleons?”
“Thirteen Galleons, nine Sickles,” said Ted. “And I’d give it to them for free, if I could afford it. Bloody Ministry makes laws that practically force them into unemployment, and then won’t even provide their blooming potion for them. Damn idiot bureaucrats. And I know that for each of those poor souls that can pull together the thirteen Galleon nine each month, there’s two more that can’t.”
“And then there’s the Muggle werewolves,” said Nymphadora.
“Muggle werewolves? Surely there can’t be many of those, can there?” asked Andromeda.
Nymphadora got a distant look in her eyes. “There’s more than you’d ever guess.”
“I had no idea,” Andromeda replied. “I never thought of it.”
“No one ever does,” said Nymphadora.
They all sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Then Ted spoke up. “So was there someone in particular who has a need of some Wolfsbane?”
Nymphadora nodded. “An old school chum of mine. I ran into him at St. Mungo’s earlier this month, when I went in to get patched up a bit. He was bitten last month.”
Ted shook his head. “Poor bugger. How’s he holding up?”
“Not well. His family disowned him when they found out.”
Andromeda gritted her teeth. That was an experience that she knew far too much about. “That’s absurd. What kind of parents would turn on their child when he needs them the most?”
“Bad ones,” said Ted, pointedly.
Andromeda sighed. She had no desire for this to turn into another of Ted’s trademark tirades against her family. “Dad might be able to fit in one more batch of Wolfsbane each month, if he makes Monty bear more of the load that time of month. Do you think Monty is up to it, dear?”
Ted nodded. “He is. And he’d like the extra hours. But if I took on an extra Wolfsbane I might have to raise everyone’s price by a sickle apiece to make up for paying Monty for his extra work. I don’t know if I could do that to them…”
“Don’t worry about it yet, Dad. I’m pretty sure that he can’t afford it,” said Nymphadora.
“If you find that he can, we’ll make it work somehow.”
Andromeda had known he would say it. He would say the same if Nymphadora had showed up with a whole pack of half a dozen new werewolves on her heels, asking for the potion. That was his way.
“Thank you, Dad. I’ll talk to him about it,” Nymphadora said with a smile.
“Anything for a friend of yours,” said Ted. “Is he talking to Werewolf Support Services, yet?”
Tonks blinked. “I don’t know.”
“If he’s not, he should. Tell him to get a hold of Sarah Browning-she’s the head of Werewolf Support Services at the Ministry. Maybe you can stop by her office for him. Though St. Mungo’s has probably already contacted her on his behalf. But it’s worth looking in to, one way or another. A good woman, Sarah Browning. She’ll take good care of him.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said.
A while later, after they had all started getting ready for bed, Andromeda slipped on her dressing gown. “I’m going to go see if Nymphadora is still up,” she said. “We need to have a little girl to girl chat.”
“All right, love,” said Ted, sitting up in bed with a magazine. “Should I come running when I hear the shouting-or should I wait until I you start breaking things?”
Andromeda glared at him. “We haven’t had a row in-” she paused, thinking. It really had been a long time. The longest time in between fights since Nymphadora finished school. “Why, I think it’s been more than six months.”
“Really?” said Ted, looking up from his magazine. “That long? Has a new era in mother-daughter relations really begun?”
“I hope so,” she said.
“Well, good luck, then,” he said, smiling. “Maybe I won’t have to play referee after all.”
Andromeda headed down the hall to the room that Nymphadora had called her own since they first bought the house, when she was six years old. She knocked lightly on the door.
“Come in,” came Nymphadora’s voice.
Andromeda opened the door, and slipped inside. Nymphadora was sitting on her bed, looking at an old book. “Oh,” she said, looking up. “Hello, Mum. What’s up?”
Andromeda sat on the chair next to the bed, and spoke hesitantly. “I just-there was something I wanted to talk to you about without your father around.”
Nymphadora closed her book. “Okay. But it better not be the ‘when are you giving me grandchildren’ talk, because if it is you had better just leave right now,” she said with a lighthearted smirk on her face.
Would the girl never let them have a civilized talk without interjecting her snide remarks? “It’s not. I promise.”
“Good,” said Nymphadora, smugly. She folded her arms, and leaned back against her headboard. “So, what’s on your mind?”
Andromeda wasn’t sure there was any tactful way to broach this particular subject, so she decided to take the frank approach and dived right in. “Has Lucius been harassing you?” she asked.
Nymphadora’s eyes widened, and she blinked in surprise. “What?”
“I saw the way he was looking at you Saturday night-and the way you were looking at him. Is that why you were so upset? Did he try something? Was he trying to seduce you?”
Nymphadora flushed, and looked down, biting her bottom lip. “How did you know?” she asked.
“Because he spent more than five years harassing me with that same nonsense. By now I know all of his looks, and it makes me sick to my stomach to see him giving those same looks to you that he used to give to me. And at his own house, for Merlin’s sake. The man is shameless.” As she spoke, Nymphadora had looked back up at her with a stunned expression.
“He really used to try to get you to sleep with him?”
“Don’t look so surprised. He’s a scoundrel at heart, and always will be. Some things never change,” replied Andromeda.
“I always thought it was just me,” said Nymphadora, softly.
“Unfortunately, no. And we’re not alone. He’s a notorious flirt.”
“I wouldn’t call it flirting.” Nymphadora folded her arms across her chest with a sullen look on her face.
Andromeda shook her head. “Merlin knows why, but there are some women who seem to enjoy his attentions.”
“I can’t imagine why. Does Aunt Cissy know about all this?”
Andromeda shook her head. “I have no idea. I’ve never dared bring it up. To tell you the truth, I’m not convinced that he’s ever really cheated on her.”
She could tell from the look on Nymphadora’s face that she wasn’t so sure.
Andromeda looked pointedly at her. “I know my sister. She’d never tolerate any actual infidelity if she knew of it. But I don’t think she’d discourage him from his rather twisted form of flirting, either. I think she considers it a prize, to have a man who is still sought after by so many other women.”
“That’s sick.”
“That’s life as a pureblood. All the old families are riddled with this sort of corruption and eccentricity. Lucius’s particular proclivity is playing mind-games with people. It makes him feel powerful. And the mind-game he chose for me was sexual harassment. He knew I’d never hurt my sister by telling her about it, so in his mind that gave him free rein to go out of his way to make me as uncomfortable as possible. Apparently, he’s decided to do the same thing to you. Bastard.”
She looked sadly at her daughter, who still looked slightly dazed. “How long has this been going on?” This was the real question, and she was afraid of the answer. Nymphadora had started to refuse to be a part of visits with the Malfoys when she was fifteen. It couldn’t have been going on for that long, could it?
Nymphadora looked down again. “A long time,” she replied.
Oh dear.
“Has he…did he ever…do anything to you? Did he ever hurt you?” Andromeda asked, holding her breath.
Nymphadora shook her head. “No. He tried, a few times. But I never let him.”
Thank Merlin for that, at least, thought Andromeda, letting out her breath. No wonder she hated me. I forced to her go to that house. I forced her to be near that man. And all the while, he was harassing her behind my back. Damn him!
“I’m so, so, sorry,” she said.
“No, Mum. You don’t need to say that.”
“Yes, I do. I should have noticed. I should have done something…”
“This is exactly why I never told you. Because I knew you would blame yourself. But it’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault but his.”
As grateful as Andromeda was to hear this, it did little to alleviate her sense of personal responsibility. “Well,” she said at last, “one thing is certain. Lucius Malfoy will never again step foot in this house. And I will never again set foot in his. If Narcissa wants to see me, she’ll have to come here by herself.”
Nymphadora nodded. “We’ll all be better off without him around.”
Andromeda felt another pang of guilt. “Yes, we will. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mum.” Nymphadora reached out to take her hand. Andromeda treasured the spontaneous touch of comfort and affection. She was always envious when she saw her friends casually embracing their daughters. It was easy to take that sort of thing for granted.
“Thank you, for telling me the truth.”
Nymphadora smiled slightly. “And thank you for telling me that I’m not alone in this. How in the world did you ever get him to leave you alone?”
The corners of Andromeda’s mouth turned up. “Have you ever heard of the limp-noodle hex?”
Nymphadora snorted in laughter. “No-but I like the sound of it!”
“I’ll have to teach it to you sometime.”
“Yes, please!”
After a short laugh, Andromeda decided it was time to bring up the second reason for her girl-talk. “I also wanted to ask,” she said, “have you been able to work out a time with Dumbledore yet for me to see Sirius?”
Once again, Nymphadora looked as if she had been taken by complete surprise. “Oh. No. Not yet,” she stammered. “What I mean to say is: we’re still working out the details.”
Andromeda clenched her teeth. “You haven’t even asked Dumbledore yet-have you?”
“Mum-there have been a lot of really important things happing in my life lately…”
“More important than helping me reunite with the cousin that was as close to me as a brother?”
Nymphadora froze, and her defensive posture relaxed. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I got busy, and preoccupied, and I forgot. I’m sorry.”
Andromeda nodded tersely. She wanted to get angry, but that would do nothing but ruin the new rapport that they had only just achieved, so she held it in.
“I’ll speak to him about this the next time I see him. I promise,” said Nymphadora.
“Do you think you could try a little harder to see him a little sooner?” asked Andromeda.
“Yes,” replied her daughter, meekly. “Yes, I can.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Nymphadora nodded.
“Well,” said Andromeda, rising, “this has been a good talk. Thank you.”
“Yeah, it has. Thanks Mum.”
“Goodnight, Nymphadora.”
“Goodnight.”
****
The Christmas morning trip to St. Mungo’s had gone smoothly, and now the whole lot of them, all wearing their new knitted jumpers from Molly, stood gathered around Arthur, visiting amiably. Remus looked around the ward and saw a pale, dark-haired young man sitting in a bed across from Arthur. He was staring at the large pack of friends and family with a look of longing on his face. This was undoubtedly Nymphadora’s friend, Ethan.
He slipped quietly out of the throng, and strode across the room to Ethan’s bed.
“Hello,” he said. “You must be Ethan Bulstrode?”
The young man tensed up, looking at him suspiciously. “Yes, yes I am.”
“I’m Remus-Tonks’s friend.”
“Oh!” said Ethan, brightening considerably. “I didn’t know she had told any of her friends about me.”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
He shook his head, and shrugged a little. “I don’t know. I just wouldn’t expect that she’d want to admit to being friends with…someone like me.”
Remus looked at Ethan quizzically. “She didn’t tell you about me, did she?”
Ethan looked taken aback. “No-was she supposed to?”
Remus smiled. The utter absurdity of the accusations he had made to Nymphadora about her using Ethan to prove herself to him was now obvious. If she had really planned on dragging him in here to show off her charity to other werewolves, she doubtlessly would have told Ethan all about him, making promises to bring him in. And now, it seemed that out of respect for him she hadn’t yet even mentioned his name. Remus shook his head. “No. She wasn’t supposed to. I just thought she might have. You see-she is one of my dearest friends. And I-like you-am also a werewolf.”
Ethan’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t...You don’t…I never would have guessed. You don’t look like what I’d expect a werewolf to look like. Not at all.”
“I think you’ll find,” said Remus, “that there really aren’t any werewolves that look like what you’d expect-with one or two possible exceptions.”
Ethan appeared to digest this information for a minute. “So, how did you and Tonks get to be friends?”
“We met through another mutual friend.” He paused, and smiled. “I know you must be thinking she’s the sort of girl who likes to seek out werewolves out of some sort of sick fascination, or something. But I assure you, she is not. We actually became friends before she knew about my condition.”
“And she didn’t get-you know-frightened off?” asked Ethan, incredulously.
“It would take a great deal more than a once a month malady to turn Tonks against her friends,” said Remus, feeling suddenly more grateful for her, and for the other friends that had stood by him over the years.
Ethan’s eyes fell. Remus couldn’t fathom how difficult this must be for him. Remus had at least always had his family, and for most of his life had had a number of friends as well. But this poor young man had been abandoned by everyone who should have been his most stalwart supports. No wonder Nymphadora felt so compelled to help him. If they didn’t, who would?
“I know it doesn’t seem like it right now,” said Remus, “but it will get easier. Once you adjust to things, and start understanding how to deal with the different reactions that you’ll get from people, it does get easier.”
Ethan looked back up. “How long have you been… you know?”
Remus glanced down at his hands. “I was bitten when I was six years old.”
Ethan’s eyes grew wide. “Six years old? That’s practically your whole life.”
Remus nodded. “If you think this is terrifying for you-just imagine how terrifying it was for a six year old child. But I was fortunate-my parents stood by me, and did all that they could to help me over the years. I understand that you weren’t so blessed.”
Ethan sank bank against the wall. “I was always the black sheep of my family. They were probably glad to finally have an excuse to be rid of me.”
“Old blood, the Bulstrodes, aren’t you?”
“Too old. Decaying. And full of exaggerated pride.”
“I have a friend from a family like yours. He left home as soon as he turned seventeen and gained an inheritance from one of his uncles,” Remus paused, uncertain if this story was really as applicable as he had hoped. “And… in the end…he suffered for his differences, just like you are suffering for yours. It’s a difficult lot, leaving your heritage behind you.”
Remus hesitated again. It was difficult to know just what to say. Would his words bolster Ethan up, or would they leave him feeling worse than before? “Try to keep in mind that without so-called ‘black sheep’ like you and my friend, the old blood families will never change and our society will always be controlled by their outdated ideas. We need people like you, for the sake of future generations. Your struggles won’t be for nothing.”
“Now you’re just being patronizing. I am neither a child, nor an idealist. I understand perfectly well that sometimes people struggle and suffer and no one ever benefits from it. Sometimes suffering is just suffering. Besides, I was never much of a rebel-just a misfit.”
Remus smiled. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to patronize. I’m not very good at this sort of thing. I suppose I don’t really know what will help. Do you have any suggestions?”
Ethan stared quietly across the room. Finally, he asked, “Will you tell me about the transformation? What it’s really like?”
Remus took a deep breath. “You sure you really want to know?”
Ethan looked into his eyes and gave a firm nod. “Yes. Please.”
Remus took another deep breath. He should have known this was coming. But there was no getting out of it. So he sat up straight, and prepared to take on the unpleasant task of telling Ethan the truth about what he would now experience every full moon for the rest of his life.
****
Tonks found that Christmas morning with her parents went smoothly, and she actually enjoyed her time with her mother more than she had in years. She was starting to see that they might not be as different as she once thought. Her mum and dad were sad that she had to leave early in the afternoon, but she had things to take care of.
First, she paid Cory and Danny a quick visit to deliver some presents. Geoffrey looked as if he had grown two inches since she last saw him. After an all too brief hour with her friends, she excused herself. She needed to get on with some business.
Her next stop was Saint Mungo’s, to offer some Christmas cheer to Ethan.
“Happy Christmas!” she said, striding up to him with some brightly wrapped packages and a large gift basket.
She watched in pleasure as Ethan unwrapped his gifts-an assortment of clothes and household items. “I thought you could use some things to get you started off once we get you into your own flat.”
“Thank you,” said Ethan, looking morose. Tonks hadn’t expected him to be terribly chipper, but it was still disheartening to see him so depressed on the holiday.
“I wish there was more I could do,” she said. “I know today must be especially hard for you.”
“It is. But really, you’re doing more than I ever would have expected from anyone. It means a lot. Thank you.” He still sounded sad, but also sincere.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “And I wish I could bring you better news from the Ministry, but my department head insists that your case is out of our jurisdiction. He did promise to pester the boys over at Magical Law Enforcement. We’ll just have to wait and see if anything comes of it.”
Ethan grimaced. “That’s as much as I could’ve expected.”
“Have you been in contact with Werewolf Support Services?” Tonks asked.
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Sarah Browning has been to see me three times. She’s trying to find a flat for me, and a job, but she hasn’t been having much success.”
“Maybe I’ll swing by and see if there’s anything I can do to help her.”
“Thank you. And your friend came by.”
Tonks sat up straight in surprise. “My friend?”
“Remus Lupin. He is a friend of yours-isn’t he? I though you must have asked him to come by,” said Ethan.
“Yes. He is. And I told him about you, but I didn’t ask him to come by. He did that on his own.” And she was surprised he had. She couldn’t restrain her smile, knowing that Remus had followed her lead and quietly visited Ethan on his own.
“I’m glad that he did,” said Ethan. “He finally gave me some frank answers to questions that everyone else kept avoiding. And he agreed to come here for my first transformation.”
Tonks was completely taken aback. She had once asked Remus why he didn’t transform at the free facility provided at St. Mungo’s, and had been treated to a half-hour tirade on the horrors of those communal transformations. It was an act of amazing compassion for him to undertake on Ethan’s behalf.
“Is it cowardly of me,” asked Ethan, “to want someone I know to be with me for my first transformation?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s not cowardly. It’s just human.”
She talked with Ethan for nearly an hour more, doing her best to cheer him. But, if her afternoon went according to plan, he would soon have something much better than her company to cheer him. Though Remus’s visit hadn’t seemed to cheer him much, at least it had seemed to help him understand and accept his condition better.
After leaving St. Mungo’s she went back to her flat to change. She put on her most sedate and professional gray business robes-the ones she had worn to her interviews for the Auror training program four years ago-and changed her hair to a respectable ebony bob. It was time to pay some unexpected visits.
Her first stop was a stately London townhouse in a neighborhood full of old wizarding families. The door was opened by a house elf in a neat tea-towel toga.
“Hello, are Mr. and Mrs. Bulstrode in this afternoon?” she asked.
“The Master and Mistress are busy with the holiday festivities,” squeaked the elf. “May I ask your business here?”
She nodded. “I’m Auror Tonks, from the Ministry. I need to speak to them about an important matter of business.”
“I’ll inform them at once,” said the elf, “Please come in.”
The elf left her waiting in the foyer, while it went to collect its masters. She restlessly shuffled her feet on the marble floor, and stared around the high-ceilinged entryway. It was nearly as grand as Malfoy Manor, and she knew that was the standard most of this lot compared themselves to. Chances were the Bulstrodes had been among the Malfoys’s plethora of guests the other night-they looked like the type Lucius would be willing to associate with.
A few minutes later a short and thick swarthy black-mustached man strode down the hall toward her and a thin, willowy woman with streaks of white in her brown hair pattered nervously behind him. These were undoubtedly Ethan’s parents.
“I am Donald Bulstrode,” said the man as he approached her. “What can I help you with today, Auror Tonks? What could be so serious that it brings you here on Christmas day?” His tone was one of frustration at having his holiday interrupted. He stopped a few paces in front of her, and folded his arms in what Tonks assumed he meant to be a threatening manner across his broad chest.
Heartless bastard. Yes, it’s a horrible inconvenience to have your Christmas interrupted, but it’s of no consequence that your son is withering from loneliness in St. Mungo’s while you sit in your fancy house, sipping mulled wine. “I’m sorry that I had to use my official position to gain entry, Mr. Bulstrode-Mrs. Bulstrode,” she added, nodding to the willowy woman now hovering behind her stocky husband. “But my business here is not official-it is more of a personal nature.”
“Personal?” said Mr. Bulstrode. “What personal business could you possibly have with us?” He looked her up and down with a sneer of contempt.
“I’m a friend of your son, Ethan,” she said flatly.
Mrs. Bulstrode gasped, and raised a hand to her mouth. Mr. Bulstrode raised a hand sharply, to silence his wife, and then glared at Tonks. “He is no longer my son. We don’t speak his name in this house. Now please leave my home.”
“Not until you agree to go speak to him,” she said, stepping forward. “Just once-go speak to him. It’s inhuman of you to abandon your son like this without ever once even talking to him, to say goodbye.”
“I have nothing to say to that creature,” snarled Mr. Bulstrode. His wife whimpered. He continued, “He brought this on himself, and now he has to face it by himself. I told him not to meddle where he had no right to meddle, and he turned his back on me.”
“So that gives you the right to turn your back on him?”
“Yes!” The look in his eyes was fierce. Another man, who looked very much like Ethan, had stepped into the hall, and a swarthy young girl had followed him. Would Ethan’s siblings be willing to see reason, even if his father did not? Or maybe, his mother would listen.
“Mrs. Bulstrode-surely you can’t just leave your son like this?” said Tonks, imploring.
“How dare you address my wife!” said Mr. Bulstrode, just as Ethan’s brother began striding up the hall toward them, crying, “Leave my mother out of this!”
Mrs. Bulstrode now stepped forward, looking Tonks in the eye. With a quavering voice, she said, “My son is dead. He is dead. Please leave us alone.”
Mr. Bulstrode wrapped a protective arm around his wife. “Leave my house. Now. Or my son and I will throw you out.”
Tonks looked around at the angry faces staring her down. It was hopeless. They had given up on Ethan completely.
She shook her head, turned on her heel, and without another word stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. She walked briskly down the street away from the house, taking deep breaths of the cold air to try to calm the rage that she felt building up inside her chest.
How could anyone turn their back on their own son so abruptly? She was beginning to understand why her father was still so bitter toward her Black grandparents.
After a few minutes of walking off her anger, she was able to calm down enough to start thinking about her next visit. Hopefully this one would go better than her first had.
A few Apparation points later, she found herself striding down a snowy path to a large country house surrounded by a frosty glade of trees. It was the Prewett house. She had come to find Ethan’s fiancée-Beatrice Prewett.
This time her knock was answered by the sound of barking dogs, and pounding feet. A pair of boys that looked to be around ten and thirteen pulled the door open to stare at her with sparkling eyes.
“Wotcher, boys,” she said, smiling. Already this house was looking more promising than the last. “Is Beatrice here?”
The littler boy nodded solemnly, and the older said, “Yeah. She’s helping Mum make dinner. Who are you? One of her friends from London?”
“Yeah. More of a friend of a friend, really. I need to talk to Beatrice about something very important. Could you go fetch her for me?” she asked.
The little one nodded. “I’ll get her!” he said, scampering off down the hall, with two floppy-eared dogs loping behind him.
“Want to come in, then?” said the older boy, standing aside for her.
“Sure. Thanks,” she replied, stepping inside the cozy entryway, and letting the boy close the door behind her. This house was far less imposing than the Bulstrode townhouse had been, and seemed to be decorated as much for comfort as for appearances. Yes-she was having a much better feeling about this visit.
The boy stood near the door, staring at her. “Having a good Christmas?” she asked him.
He nodded. “Yeah. Not as many presents as last year, though. Mum says it’s ‘cause these ones were bigger presents. I got a broom. A Cleansweep. I’m going out for Quidditch next year, so I need to practice.”
“Good luck with that,” she said. “The Cleansweeps are good brooms.”
He shrugged. “Better than using my dad’s old broom.”
A pretty raven-haired young woman now emerged from a door at the end of the hall. She had the same sparkling eyes and ruddy cheeks as her brothers, and Tonks thought that she recognized her as being a year or two behind her at Hogwarts.
Beatrice’s face took on a puzzled expression as she reached Tonks. “Hello,” she said. “I’m sorry-I feel like I should know you, but I can’t quite remember your name.”
Tonks held out her hand, and Beatrice shook it politely. “I’m Tonks. We were in school at the same time.”
“Ohhh,” she replied. “I remember you. On the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, right?”
“That’s me,” said Tonks.
“So what brings you here today?” asked Beatrice.
“Actually,” said Tonks, “it’s about Ethan.”
Beatrice went immediately stiff, and her face grew pale. “Go back to the kitchen, Bert,” she said to her younger brother.
“How come?”
“Just go!” she insisted.
“Fine.” He slouched off back down the hall.
Beatrice turned back to Tonks, looking her in the eyes. “Is he… has anything happened to him?” she asked, quietly.
“Nothing new,” replied Tonks. “Why haven’t you been to see him, Beatrice?”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’ve wanted to,” she said. “Every day, I’ve wanted to.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
Beatrice looked down. “At first, I was too afraid. But then I went to the library to do some reading on his…condition. And some of what I read made me even more afraid. But some of it made it sound like most of the time he would still be…normal.”
Tonks nodded. “He is normal. He’s still the man you love, Beatrice. And he still loves you. It hurts him more than anything that you haven’t been to see him yet.”
The tears started to trace their way down Beatrice’s cheeks, and her face was turning red. “I know, I know,” she said. “I don’t know what to do! I still love him so much-but daddy never liked him, and now he says that there’s no way a daughter of his will be allowed to marry a werewolf. He and mum keep saying that I should just forget him, and move on. But how can I move on? I love him! Oh God, I don’t know what to do!”
She sank into a chair near the door, and buried her face in her hands.
“You need to come see him, Beatrice,” said Tonks, leaning over the sobbing young woman, and placing a hand on her shoulder. “You need to see him again, and decide for yourself. You can’t let your parents make up your mind for you.”
The girl continued to sob into her hands. Clearly, she wanted to go see her fiancé again, but Tonks wasn’t sure if she had the spine to stand up to her parents.
A middle-aged woman now emerged into the hall. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Beatrice sobbing by the door. “What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” she said, hurrying toward them.
Tonks stood up straight to face her. “I’m a friend of Ethan’s,” she said, “and I came to tell Beatrice how much he wants to see her again.”
“How dare you!” said the woman. “How dare you do this to her on Christmas day?”
“How dare you stop your daughter from seeing her fiancé on Christmas day when he is alone and miserable in a hospital ward!” replied Tonks, the hot anger welling back up in her chest.
“That man is no longer my daughter’s fiancé, and she is better off without him,” said Beatrice’s mother.
“Oh Mama,” sobbed Beatrice. “Tonks is right. I need to go to him. Please!”
“You will do no such thing!” said the woman. She turned back to Tonks. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. You’ve addled my daughter’s brain enough for one day.”
Tonks bit her lip to stifle the sharp retort on her tongue. Instead, she drew a card out of her pocket and pressed it into Beatrice’s hand. “This is my address,” she said. “If you ever need anyone to talk to about all this, please don’t hesitate to contact me. And don’t forget, you’re a grown woman. You can make up your own mind.”
“Are you going to leave, or do I need to call my husband?” asked Beatrice’s mother.
“Don’t trouble yourself. I’m going.” She turned to Beatrice one last time. “Don’t ever let anyone make your decisions for you, Beatrice, or you may regret it for the rest of your life.” With that, she turned and let herself out the door.
Tonks went straight home to her flat, and collapsed on her sofa. This was shaping up to be one of her worst Christmases ever-second only to the Christmas when she was fifteen and her mother had forced her to spend the day at the Malfoys’ house. Draco had pestered her ceaselessly, and when she finally escaped from him, Lucius tracked her down to give her a “special” gift in the form of a slinky nightgown and a not-so-chaste kiss under the mistletoe. No, this Christmas couldn’t top that-but it was coming close.
Beatrice seemed like a nice enough girl, but she didn’t appear to have much of a spine. The likelihood of getting her to defy her parents to reconcile with Ethan didn’t seem very high. All of Tonks’s great plans to bring Ethan some Christmas cheer in the form of visits from his family and fiancée appeared to have collapsed in utter failure.
Molly had invited her to Christmas dinner at headquarters, but she had declined, expecting to be at St. Mungo’s witnessing a happy reunion. Tonks supposed she could still go, but she wasn’t really in the mood for a house full of happy Weasleys. Instead, she decided to stay home, and wait for Remus to come over later as they had planned. She went to her refrigerator and pulled out a carton of store-bought eggnog. She poured herself a glass, spiked it with some booze, and raised it in a mock toast. “Here’s to happy families,” she said to herself.
After finishing her drink, she curled up on the sofa in front of her fire, and soon was fast asleep.
Chapter 10