A Tale of Several Settings
So...I wrote a post-Hospital-Wing fic. I don't think any other fanfic writer's done that, have they? *snerk*
This is the story of the battle's aftermath in the Astronomy Wing corridor, of the Hospital Wing and what transpired there after Harry left with McGonagall, and finally, of a confrontation and resolution in Room Three of the Hogs Head Inn. Featuring I've-Had-It!Tonks and Loose-Cannon!Remus. Whee.
Title: A Tale of Several Settings
Word Count: ~4500
Rating: PG-13/R
Summary: See above.
She patrolled the corridors, wand at her side, coiled and tense after Minerva’s summons.
Albus has left the grounds, and young Mr. Potter has accompanied him. He left a message in my office just as he departed: There may be Dark activity about, a plan unfolding, or so Albus has said.
Minerva pursed her lips. Possibly wondering why we’ve been left alone to fight, she thought, absently twirling a strand of stubbornly-dust-brown hair around her finger.
Other Order members will join you on the watch.
She hadn’t wondered, at that moment, why Minerva had not named her fellow guards, but as she rounded a corner and stopped a bare inch away from collision, she realized why.
Crafty like a cat, that Minerva is, she thought, meeting Remus’ awkward gaze with one of her own.
He stepped back.
"Please pardon me…I haven’t yet had a chance to bathe," he said, eyes shifting from one point to the next, all above her head.
They stood stock-still, the silence thickening like one of her Potions messes (and she knows he had plenty of those of his own).
Something - everything - felt unresolved between them, and she shook her head to clear away the onslaught of emotion and memory. This wasn’t the time or place, after all.
She resorted to her Auror training, in hopes of putting up a brave front.
"Keep a sharp eye out," she said, in a tone of voice usually used when dealing with lawbreakers, fellow Aurors on patrol, and other unsavoury types she’d really rather avoid, most days.
She hated herself for doing it, and he quirked an eyebrow at her. She lowered her eyes to the stone floor and brushed past - sweet sodding Merlin, he did need a bath - and kept on her way.
She was closest to the Astronomy wing when she heard the first of the shouts, and she raced forth, finding herself enveloped in utter darkness and confusion.
Determined to do whatever it took this time to make certain no others would pay for her mistakes, she held her wand at the ready and steadied her breathing, hoping her ears would alert her to the first sounds of danger, as her eyes were useless at that point.
Through it all, her most coherent trains of thought were, What the hell?, and Remus, where are you?
When she finally sees him through the abating darkness, less than an hour later, she is torn: Part of her battle-focused mind thinks, Oh-thank-Merlin-he’s-here-we’re-losing-we-need-help, whereas some traitorous, less-brave section of her mind is protesting this notion fiercely.
Go back - go back - they won’t get you and you’ll be safe if you just run.
He raced in, wand at the ready, firing off jinxes with narrowed eyes, trying to aim in what little light they had. Nothing particularly harmful: The children were there, Godric only knew why or how. She had no idea if he knew she was there, too.
His face thin and gaunt, clad in robes that her mother would have resigned to the venerable status of Dustrag - yet he still manages to look fierce. Determined.
Battered, unwashed, and sickly.
She loves him more than ever.
She catches sight of him running at the doorway to the tower, and sees the look of frustration on his worn face when he’s thrown back, notices the brief confusion when Snape runs through the barrier without hindrance.
A flash of green fills the hall, and he dives to the side, giving her a chance to fire off an Impediment Jinx in the direction from whence the Killing Curse came.
It connects, and both of them are still intact and whole in body, if not in spirit (too close too close too close) when the blonde boy and the black-haired man race from the stairwell and sprint down the hall.
They are followed by a vision that has haunted his nightmares for thirty years - and his waking hours for the better part of the past three seasons - and neither of them can get a clear shot.
Greyback lunges at Harry, then, but Harry is quick, fueled by desperation and grief, though at that moment, neither of them can see this for what it is; they simply figure he’s plenty tough and clever. Harry sends a strong jinx at Amycus Carrow, and keeps running, even as Ginny’s voice filters through the fray.
Suddenly, all is quiet. The explosions, the screams - gone, and in their wake they see three prone figures.
One is utterly still. A flash of white mask, under black robes, shines in the still-lifting darkness.
The other Aurors can do a conclusive identification on Gibbon later, she thinks, passing the dead Death Eater with barely a second glance, only enough to ascertain that Ron Weasley is about to kick the body hard in the shins, and to pull him away, gripping his lanky arm in her small hand, hauling him with her down the hall.
Ginny is first to reach the two others - one is stirring and answers the youngest Weasley child as she lays a hand on his shoulder. Neville Longbottom.
He still looks as he did - round-faced and sweet - in the picture she found buried in a drawer when she’d first started as an Auror. Kingsley had discovered her that day, trying to keep herself quiet as she couldn’t hold back the sobs, sitting in Alice Longbottom’s old cubicle and feeling overwhelming guilt at what her own flesh and blood had done.
Two days later, she was in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, determined to do her part for the Order, and it had all led up to this.
The other motionless several feet away and, she sees in a rush of horror, face-down in a great pool of blood. Even his long hair has been stained red.
Then, Ginny gives a cry of horror, and Remus is there as well, turning Bill’s limp form over.
Under ordinarly circumstances, she likes to think she would’ve held Ron back, spared him at least a little bit of grief, but he’s taken hold of her hand in his desperation, and both of them are rushing forward, and to hell with saving the innocence of the young, that’s long gone by now.
Bill is breathing, but it’s shallow and laboured. Clawed gashes - teeth marks - everywhere - oh God.
Ron releases her hand, goes to Ginny, whose face is shining with silent tears, and tries to hold her close, but Ginny won’t allow her brother to hide her face. Instead, bright brown eyes watch as Remus peers closely at the wounds.
Remus is fairly tall, but Bill is taller, and more heavily-muscled than Remus’ gaunt form has been in all the time she’s known him. Still, he somehow manages to scoop up Bill as though he weighs nothing at all, and regards them steadily.
"We’ll get him up to Poppy."
He begins forward, his stride purposeful, and she stays at his side, her wand clenched in her hand, hidden in the folds of her robes, ready to Levitate Bill if Remus loses his footing.
Behind them, she hears the children’s murmured voices, and a soft thump as Neville proves he isn’t as steady on his feet as he’d insisted he was. She’d go back to help, but she’s afraid for Bill (and for Remus), and the children are plenty capable. Sure enough, when she glances back moments later, and Neville is slung across Ron’s shoulders. Neville says something about Hermione, and Department of Mysteries, and Ron wryly mutters what sounds like, Owed you one, mate.
Remus, meanwhile, is staring straight ahead, his jaw set.
"Are you all right?" she ventures, her free hand coming up on its own traitorous free will to rest at his elbow.
He doesn’t shake it off, but then, he doesn’t really seem to register its presence, either.
Finally, he whispers, "I feel responsible."
"Remus, don’t be daft. You weren’t the one who let Greyback, or any of the others, into the castle…"
"I realize that, Nymphadora." The bite in his tone is unmistakable. Her hand flies from his arm as though she was burned, and she blinks rapidly to clear her vision.
He sighs. "Forgive me. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I meant…I feel responsible for Bill."
She understands, then. This mangled body in his arms was yet another of Greyback’s victims, though Merlin only knows what this will do to Bill’s body, his mind.
She’s still trying to figure out a response for that, something that will convey her understanding and sympathy, when Remus jerks his chin in the direction of a tapestry.
"Please hold that aside. This will take us to the Hospital Wing much more quickly."
Tonks rushes forward, pulls the tapestry from the wall to reveal a hidden passage, and Remus files through, then Ginny, and last Ron, bearing both Neville and a blasé expression that says he knew about this passage long ago.
This place is still full of surprises.
Another surprise awaits at the other end of the hidden hall - the Hospital Wing is just ahead, and hurried footsteps are approaching from the staircase nearby.
"Oh, Ginny - Neville - Ron - thank God," Hermione cries on an exhalation of breath, glancing to Luna Lovegood at her side. Both girls run up the remaining stairs and grab hold of Ginny, as Hermione’s eyes meet Ron’s, communicating the horror of the night without words. Ginny finally breaks down in earnest. Ron looks on, blocking the doorway with Neville draped across his shoulders, nearly wheezing in obvious relief as he digests the fact that Hermione is all right...
"She’s fine," Remus says softly, and Ron’s visibly redden as he springs back to life, elbowing his way through the Infirmary door, casting one last look over his shoulder as he enters.
The girls come in minutes later, all three of them bearing reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and stand at the foot of Bill’s bed. Remus is grasping the back of a chair, his shoulders slumped in fatigue and defeat, as Poppy tends to Bill’s wounds, answering questions in a resigned tone.
Minerva arrives, takes the scene in at a glance, and asks if someone will please owl Molly and Arthur Weasley....
Tonks does, to have something to do, and then stands several feet away, feeling like an outsider. She’s too old to be part of the younger people’s group, and not family at that, and too far removed from Remus to stand at his side.
Ginny suddenly whirls, looking around. "Harry. He should have been back by now."
Nobody replies. Everyone’s eyes have gone wide, and Remus takes a step toward the door.
"No," Ginny snaps. "I’m going."
"Please bring him directly here," Minerva calls after her, and Ginny raises a hand to show she’s heard.
She’s out the door in a flash of red hair and torn robes, and they all wait, the horror sinking in even more.
It’s not until Ginny comes back, a lost-looking, shaking black-haired boy in tow, that they realize how terrible this night has truly been.
The world has turned upside-down, she thought, standing bare inches from Remus, whose ratty jumper, beneath his dishevelled robes, still bore pulled and rucked-up stitches from where she’d grabbed it.
Molly was sniffling, wiping tears from Fleur’s face all the while, assuring her that everything would be all right; Arthur looked on, as Ginny clung to his middle, and he offered an arm each to Ron and Hermione; Luna Lovegood perched at the foot of Neville’s bed and regarded his sleeping face with her usual frank stare; and Harry and Minerva were long gone, having rushed from the infirmary to confer with the heads of houses.
She stepped tentatively toward the Weasleys, hoping to somehow find the right words to offer solace - or comfort - or whatever…Bill’s injuries were indeed horrific, but at the same time, everything seemed much more peaceful between the family, and she didn’t want to say something that would cause a now-united Molly and Fleur to jump down her throat.
However, she had barely managed to get within arm’s reach when Molly pulled her into an embrace that was nothing short of bone-cracking, and the Weasley matriarch whispered in her ear, "It’s all going to be just fine, dear."
For you, maybe, Tonks thought mutinously, but Molly had plenty more years and experience on her, and she figured it might be best to take the words of wisdom with just a wan smile, and a nod.
Then, shockingly, Fleur grabbed her. "Bonne chance," she said. "I look forward to seeing you at ze wedding, Tonks."
"Erm, all right," she muttered, pulling away, as it was downright frightening to see how Fleur had suddenly warmed toward her, when it had been nothing but she eez clumsy and she eez letting ‘erself go, up till then.
Arthur Weasley reached across the bed, shook her hand over Bill’s prone form, and gave her a sad smile. "Thank you, Tonks."
For what? Taking the focus off Bill, or Fleur and Molly, for a bloody second, so I could make a right arse of myself instead? she wondered, but tried to get her facial features to move in an approximation of his own expression nonetheless.
Determined to look anywhere, at anyone, save for Remus, she turned and headed out of the infirmary, noticing from the corner of her eye that Remus was still hunched over, staring at his shoes.
She’d made it through the great oak doors and halfway to the gates when she noticed several shadowy figures approaching. Not in the mood to face an interrogation, Tonks rushed into the deep shadows at the base of the castle walls, pressing herself against the stone, holding her breath until Scrimgeour and his toadies - Merlin, it’s Umbridge, and Percy Weasley’s with them, this could get right ugly - had passed.
Once the Minister’s entourage was inside, she sprinted the remaining distance to the winged boars standing sentinel at the gates. Casting one last glance at the school as she prepared to Disapparate - sore, tired, not walking to Hogsmeade tonight, thank you - the doors opened once more, and in the sudden, distant illumination, she saw the familiar silhouette of a thin figure.
Whirling away, she focused her mind on something equally dodgy, and perhaps with even more potential for having an infestation of fleas - Room Three, Hogs Head Inn…
Customers Apparating directly into their rooms gave Aberforth the willies, and while Tonks usually tried to accommodate his various quirks, that night, she didn’t give a damn.
Exhausted, battered, grimy, and depressed, she flung herself onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow and pressing her hands over her ears, hoping to muffle her thoughts.
She could still hear echoes of the battle, though, and moreover, the knock at the door, which came within minutes of her own arrival.
Raising her head a fraction of an inch from the pillow, she called, "I’m here, Abe. Sorry ‘bout that…"
…Merlin, his brother…Does he know yet?…
…I’m not the one who’s going to have to tell him, am I?…
She was momentarily relieved when the voice at the other side of the door was not the low growl of Aberforth.
It was, however, a familiar one, and hoarse.
"May I please come in?"
Tonks stuffed the pillow over her face and groaned.
I made a scene, oh Merlin, worst possible moment for it, too…
Another knock, this time a bit louder.
"I know you’re in there."
Oh, you do, do you? Keep knocking, then, and I’ll just let you wonder if I’m all right, this time, you insensitive prig.
Several moments passed, and she raised her head from the pillow, listening hard.
Silence.
All right. Go ahead and leave…you bloody daft prat.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when he pounded at the door with enough force to make it rattle on its hinges.
"Sweet Muggle Christ, Nymphadora Tonks, let me in or I’m breaking down this door!"
She bolted upright, wide-eyed, and pointed the wand at the doorknob, hoping he was calm enough to register the click as it unlatched.
The knob turned with a surprising amount of force, and the door burst open. The top hinges snapped and fell away as it swung past the halfway mark, and the wooden door hit the battered floorboards with a resounding thunk.
Remus’ gaze traveled from the freshly-made crack running up the length of the door, to the shattered hinges, and finally to her face. "Erm. Sorry about that."
She bit back the sudden, inappropriate urge to burst out laughing, and instead waved her wand at the mess: "Reparo."
With a single spell, the damage was repaired, and Remus gingerly closed the door, keeping a wary eye on the weak points in the metal and wood.
Still, he didn’t meet her eyes, and he didn’t speak.
Tonks sat at the edge of her lumpy bed and folded her arms.
"Did you come to use my bathtub?" she asked, allowing an edge of sarcasm to worm its way into her voice.
Remus simply raised an eyebrow. "Might I? That may be for the best."
I’ll say, she thought, but fully aware that she herself was grimy and sweat-soaked from the battle earlier, she merely pointed at the narrow doorway across the small room.
"Help yourself."
She turned away from the bathroom as he let himself in. She curled up on her side, facing the wall, listening with amusement as Remus quickly grew tired of the weak trickle of water issuing from the spout, and cast Aguamenti into the tub.
He was in the tub for what seemed like five minutes short of forever - long enough for her to shed her stiff Auror’s robes and kick them into the laundry corner (as she hadn’t bothered to purchase a basket), and change into a pair of pyjamas, to hell with appearances. Settling on her bed with some mindless reading, she stared at a page, not taking in a single word.
Remus finally emerged from the bathroom, scrubbed, clean-shaven, swathed in towels and looking sheepish. "You wouldn’t, by any chance, have anything I could borrow?"
"Can’t you just put on your old robes, till you get back to Headquarters tonight?" Tonks asked, not bothering to look up from her Witch Weekly.
"That’s the thing…I don’t think we’ll be able to use Number Twelve, at least not for a bit…"
Tonks closed the magazine and rubbed her eyes, reciting from her NEWT-level exam notes. "Secret-Keeper’s deceased, and thus, Fidelius is ineffective. Charms, seventh year, week sixteen."
"Yes, well, if Headquarters is now visible to any and all wizards, I’d rather avoid the Black family, if I could help it."
"Then get the bloody hell out of my room."
Remus sighed. "I can’t say a damn thing without you jumping down my throat, can I."
"You’re insulting my family."
"Bellatrix? After all, nothing says I love my niece quite like attempted murder. Narcissa? Her husband’s in Azkaban and her only son’s gone on the run with a killer. Didn’t realize you were so close and all."
"If you’re going to be a bastard, get out!"
She was on her feet without remembering getting up off her bed at all, one fist clenched, the other pointing at the door, trembling.
Remus didn’t budge. "I’m starkers."
"Your problem, not mine, you bloody prat. Get out."
"I wanted to talk to you."
"Then talk." Tonks felt even more exhausted than she had in the Hospital Wing. She was tired of battling Death Eaters and Dementors and…well, she wasn’t in the mood to fight with a werewolf, as well.
Rooting through her trunk, she came up with a t-shirt that, when she wore it, came down past her knees, and tossed it to him. "You’ll have to pardon the fact that I seem to be fresh out of men’s trousers."
"Better this than nothing," Remus said, pulling the shirt over his head before dropping the towel he’d wrapped round his shoulders.
He wasn’t quick enough to hide the gash running diagonally from shoulder to hip, obviously quite deep, half-healed, and very infected.
"Merlin, Remus," she whispered, grabbing his arm. "What the hell happened?"
"It’s fine," he snapped. "It’s healing."
"Bollocks! Damn you, stop being so noble and ask for help once in your life, would you?"
Remus stared at her, a fierceness in his glare she’d seen there once before, but it hadn’t scared her then, and she wasn’t daunted now. She’d be damned if she was the first to look away.
Finally, his eyes dropped to the floor. "Fine."
"Fine, what?"
"Fine, my back hurts. Fine, I’m a bloody coward. Fine, I was stuck in a living nightmare for ten months…Fine, Dumbledore’s dead, and Snivellus bloody Snape killed him, and fine - fine - nothing is…fine…."
He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands for the second time that night, but this time, she figured the walls had come down enough that she could go to him without being rebuffed, for her own good, as he was wont to say, the prat.
"It’s all right," she murmured into his ear, stroking back the overgrown strands of fringe falling across his eyes, noticing he’d gone completely grey at the temples over the past year. "It’s all right."
Much to her shock, he actually turned to her, clung to her for dear life, and for all she thought she’d been broken this past year, his whole adult life had been a series of shocks - friends gone, lovers gone, trouble and misery and jobs from hell…
…He needed comforting and reassurance much more than she did, she realized. Just having him there, being able to calm him because he was there, because they were both still alive, after all that had happened - it was enough.
"I am so sorry," she said, as his breathing became steady, relaxed. "I’m sorry, I really am…I shouldn’t have made a fuss, I’m so sorry…"
"No," he muttered, pulling back and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Timing could’ve been better, yes, but still, I owe you an apology."
"Why don’t you lie down and let me fix your back. It looks awful. Then, we’ll sort who’s apologizing, and for what, all right?"
Remus chuckled and pulled back the moth-eaten covers as she went to rummage through the Auror-issue Field First Aid Kit. By the time she came back, he’d settled himself in the rickety bed, the covers tucked around his waist and the borrowed shirt pulled up to his neck.
"Oh, Remus…I won’t ask how you got this," she murmured, dousing the gash with antiseptic and clamping her hand on his shoulder, hard, as he exhaled in pain. "It’ll be better soon."
It took a round dozen applications of Anti-Infection potion before the wound stopped smoking at each turn, and Tonks was able to use a simple Healing charm to close up the rent in his skin.
"All right?" she asked, climbing off the bed and raising an eyebrow.
Remus shifted, his eyes half-open. "Better than new. Thank you."
She surveyed him - his mouth slightly open, eyelashes fluttering as the lids closed on their own accord, his breathing even and steady. "Good night," she whispered, and went to extinguish the candle atop the dresser.
"Where’re you going?" he asked sleepily.
"I thought I’d go kick Abe out of the goat pen, and curl up with Nan," she answered, only half-joking.
"Abe’ll get jealous. Stay here."
"You don’t want me to go bunk at Auntie Bella’s? I haven’t seen her in nearly a year, you know. Since she tried to kill me, remember?"
Remus huffed a great sigh into the pillow. "Will I ever live that down? I’m sorry…That was right crass of me."
"Yeah, it was." Tonks hadn’t budged from beside the dresser.
"Come lie down, and we’ll talk."
"You’re half-asleep."
He raised himself up on his elbows and squinted through the darkness in her direction. "I’m awake enough. There are things that need to be said."
"All right, then." She climbed into the bed, savouring the warmth on the section of mattress he’d vacated as it seeped into her aching muscles. She registered the fact that at some point, he’d dropped the towel that had been knotted round his middle, and chose to pretend she hadn’t noticed, as she rather hoped she could focus on the conversation.
"I’m sorry," he eventually said, his arm wrapped round her waist. "I’ve been a bastard."
"Yeah," she murmured, lacing her fingers through his. "You were."
"Thank you. So glad we’re in agreement."
"Mmm. I haven’t been the easiest person to deal with, either. It’s been a rough year."
"Yes, it has."
A long silence fell, and her eyes were beginning to drift shut, when his voice in her ear brought her back to consciousness. "Just before I left…for the mission and all…That’s when Emmeline Vance was killed."
She nodded, knowing he could feel her response, at least.
He paused for a long while, and finally added, "We were lovers once. Emmeline and I were, I mean."
"Really."
"Long time ago…During the last war, in fact." He sighed, then continued, "She left me when she found out what I was. Admittedly, I’d been lying to her, pretending I was fine, had sick relatives and all that, the old excuses, but she found out eventually, and left."
Tonks squeezed his hand. "I’m sorry. That must have been rough."
"It was, at the time." He disentangled his hand from hers, brought her hand up to brush the hair from her face. "Then, just after you and I had become involved, and when Dumbledore gave me the assignment with Greyback’s camp, she was killed."
Another long silence, which she was tempted to break several times - it’s not your fault, I’m sorry - until, finally, he spoke. "It reminded me why I have such a hard time being close to anyone. I’m damned tired of losing everyone I care about."
She rolled over and looked him in the eye. "You won’t lose me."
He flinched. "You can’t be sure of that."
"And I can’t be sure I won’t lose you, either, Remus." She shuddered. "You were about two inches away from a Killing Curse earlier tonight, you were, and it nearly ripped out my heart, seeing that, but what the hell can we do, you know? I’d rather enjoy the time we’ve got left, if we’re together."
"And you really don’t care that you’re ‘enjoying your time’ with an old, poor werewolf."
"Nope. Told you, a million times."
"Million and one, now."
"Shut up, Mister Semantics."
He gave a slight smile before nudging her chin with his nose, to murmur at her throat, "Well. If you insist…"
The sun was already rising when they finally fell into a deep sleep, in a tangle of arms and legs and brown hair across the sole pillow, dreaming of healing and resolution and peace.