Fic: Catching Hold
Title: Catching Hold
Author: shimotsuki
Rating & warnings: PG/mild profanity, reference to character death
Prompt: tourist
Word count: 2536 words
Summary: Remus finds an unexpected way to help Tonks deal with Sirius’s death. She can’t help wondering whether it means that Sirius was right about Remus’s feelings for her.
Author’s notes: This is a stand-alone story, but it fits into the Kaleidoscope series, and it is something of a sequel to Friends. Many thanks to gilpin25 and katyhasclogs for help with British coastal geography -- and thanks to the mods for the deadline extension, which gave me a chance to rewrite the ending!
Catching Hold
Tonks very narrowly avoided tripping over the troll’s foot umbrella stand that guarded the entrance hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Her close brush with chaos was normal and familiar, and for an instant it nearly made her smile-but only nearly.
Because everything else was terribly, terribly wrong.
Even the silence of the old house was wrong. It should have been the bored silence of Sirius taking one of his lazy naps on some musty sofa somewhere, or even the sullen silence of Sirius drinking himself into a stupor in the middle of the afternoon.
But not this.
Not this barren silence that meant Sirius would never come home again.
It didn’t seem right that the umbrella stand could still wobble in its usual way, under the circumstances. At least she was saved from a frustrating spill when Remus’s hand, strong and reassuring, closed around her elbow to steady her.
“Thanks,” she whispered, automatically glancing at the portrait of old Great-Aunt Walburga to see if they had disturbed it, but the strident voice remained silent behind the tattered curtains.
A familiar swift smile flashed across Remus’s face in response. Only, it didn’t reach his eyes.
That was wrong, too.
And she didn’t know a bloody thing she could do to fix it.
“Will you be all right on your own?” he asked, his voice a low murmur. “I want to liberate a few of the more useful books from the library. It doesn’t look like ownership of the house has passed to Bellatrix, but we probably shouldn’t risk coming here again until we know for certain.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Tonks disengaged her elbow from his careful grip. “I have a few T-shirts upstairs, and my favourite mug is in the kitchen, but I think that’s all.”
Remus nodded. They started up the stairs together, but he left her at the first-floor landing to head for the library. She went on, up two more flights, to the bedroom she had used on the rare occasions when she had stayed at headquarters overnight or caught a nap between shifts.
Pulling open the top drawer of an ornate dresser, she scooped up a handful of T-shirts and a small pile of clean knickers, stuffing everything into her satchel. She checked the rest of the room for anything else she might have left there, mechanically following standard Auror search procedures.
Her mind, however, was on Remus.
“I don’t know what he did after that Hallowe’en,” Sirius had told her once, frustrated. “I can’t get him to talk about the first year or two at all. The only thing I know is, he gave up his flat and started travelling. He says he was simply looking for work, but knowing Moony-” He sighed. “I can just see him, pulling away from Dumbledore and the rest of the Order-wandering aimlessly through his own damn life like a bloody tourist, with no connection to anything or anyone-”
Tonks had shivered. “He’s all right now, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, I think he is.” Sirius had smiled grimly and taken a slug of firewhisky. “But we need to make sure he stays all right, peanut. You and I.”
Now, Tonks closed the bedroom door firmly behind her and started down the long staircase again. If you didn't look too closely, she mused, you’d probably think that Remus is doing just fine. Level-headed. Capable. Remus was the one who had come here with Kingsley right away-when Tonks herself was still in hospital, unconscious-to gather up all the Order’s documents in case the house had been compromised. He had already started working with Dumbledore to develop new plans for surveillance on Death Eaters. He had even stayed late after last night’s Order meeting at the Burrow to help Molly with the washing-up, just like always.
But his eyes were so very far away.
Tonks bit her lip. He hadn’t been this remote three days ago, when he had come to see her at St. Mungo’s. Then, she had seen his grief and his pain, had felt his hand grip hers as much to seek comfort as to offer it.
So this distance was a new development.
Unless it was an old one-unless this was the Remus of 1981, cutting loose all his ties...
She scowled.
There had to be something she could do to bring him back.
. * . * .
Tonks herself was doing just fine until she pushed open the door to the dark, empty basement kitchen and saw the chair.
The scuffed wooden chair, still standing a little askew as though pushed back hastily from the table, had been Sirius’s favourite perch. He had slumped in it, tipped it back on two legs, kicked its rungs with his boots, pounded on its arms when he was winning at Exploding Poker-
Her satchel thudded to the floor as she covered her face with her hands, shaking with the force of her sobs.
“Tonks?”
Footsteps started slowly down the stairs-and then hurried to the bottom. A warm hand found her shoulder.
“Oh, Tonks.” Remus’s voice was bleak.
“Sorry,” she gasped from between her fingers. “I’m sorry-” She never cried. Not in front of other people, anyway. And Remus had his own burden of grief to worry about.
The hand on her shoulder pressed harder, turning her toward him. Before she realised what he was going to do, he had already done it.
He was holding her.
Remus Lupin, who never touched her except to catch her gently by the arm when she was in danger of losing her balance, was holding her.
The shock stopped her tears. She pushed her damp face into his robes and slid her arms around him, palms flat and open over the sharp edges of his shoulder blades.
“Ssh,” he said, patting her gently on the back. “That’s right.”
Her heart was pounding hard enough to hurt. How many nights had she dreamed of exactly this?
Well-not exactly this. Her dreams had not in fact featured Remus hugging her the way he might hug Molly or Hermione or Ginny, or possibly even Harry-offering simple comfort and friendship in the face of grief.
But he was holding her, all the same.
She kept her eyes closed and concentrated, trying to memorise everything: the faint scent of soap and tea, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, the warmth of his arms.
And then, reluctantly, she straightened and pulled away, fishing for a handkerchief in her pocket. What Remus was actually offering her was comfort. It wouldn’t be fair to try to take too many other things.
“Tonks?” He touched her shoulder again, lightly, with the tips of his fingers. She looked up and met his gaze, and had her second shock.
His brow was knitted in concern, and he was looking straight at her with eyes that were indisputably right there.
Wherever he had been for the last few days, he was back now.
“Do you...” He frowned, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Are you busy this afternoon?”
“Me? No, not really.” She cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. “I’m on medical leave for a few days.”
“There’s a-place. Somewhere I’d like to show you. Will you come with me, by Side-Along?”
Tonks found she was holding her breath. She had never gone anywhere with Remus that wasn’t for an Order mission.
“Yeah.” She tried to smile at him. “Just let me get my mug from the cupboard. That’s the last of my things.”
She rested her hand for an instant on the back of Sirius’s chair as she walked past.
. * . * .
When Tonks emerged from the dark squeeze of Apparition, there was uneven, shifting sand underfoot. She found herself-what else?-off-balance. But the iron grip she still had on Remus’s arm let her regain her footing.
Releasing her hold, she spun in a circle, looking around curiously.
They stood in a small cove, a few paces away from the sea. Rocky cliffs, leaning out over their heads, hid the cove from anyone who might be peering down from above. Jagged rocks littered the water, breaking the surf into swirls of white. The beach was effectively inaccessible from either land or sea, she realised. It was certainly a safe place to Apparate undetected.
A stiff breeze whipped through her short curls-she had managed a pale blue today, which proved she was healing-and sent the waves crashing against the rocks and onto the shore. The pounding surf beat out a harsh but somehow soothing rhythm. She saw the set of Remus’s shoulders relax a fraction, and his breathing slowed and deepened; surely that was a good thing. But his eyes were distant again.
Tonks touched his arm. “Where are we?”
“In Devon.” Remus turned toward her, focussed now. Maybe he had simply been gazing out to sea. “Not too far from Lynton. My father found this place, years ago.”
He shrugged out of his robes, revealing a frayed shirt and worn pair of trousers. “Shall we sit for a few minutes?”
When she nodded, he spread the robes out on the sand and waited for to Tonks to sit before settling himself beside her.
He gave her half a smile. “Dad used to bring me here after moons sometimes, especially when I’d had a bad transformation.” His gaze slid away, then, but that was all right; it was only his familiar discomfort with anything that had to do with the topic of lycanthropy.
“It’s nice.” She looked out across the water. “Peaceful.”
“Yes.” Remus scooped up a handful of sand and let it run out between his fingers. They both watched it fall.
“I like the sound of the waves,” he said, quietly. “You don’t have to think, here. You can just listen. That’s why-” He broke off.
Tonks looked up at him and caught her breath. His gaze was as intense as she had ever seen it, and he was looking straight at her.
She had the wild thought that he was more present than usual, just now.
“I spent a lot of time here after James and Lily died. It-it helped.” He tried another smile. It wasn’t quite successful, but he didn’t look away.
“Oh,” she said, very softly. She shivered, imagining a Remus younger than she was now, coming to this place because his world had ended.
Coming to this place because he was alone.
He picked up more sand, but this time he turned his hand over and opened his fist, letting it fall all at once.
“Grief-” He stopped again, searching for words, smoothing the sand flat under his fingers. “It’s like a flood. If you let it, it will pull you in and sweep you away.”
“Yeah.” Tonks swallowed, hard. “I think I know what you mean.” It was like that, especially at night, when she was alone in the dark. She would imagine, over and over again, what she had not actually seen: Sirius falling through the grasping tattered curtains of the veil. She would be haunted by that moment when her hex had missed and Bellatrix’s had found its target. And she would feel herself crushed under the weight of the knowledge that if only she had taken Bellatrix down-as she was trained to do, for Merlin’s sake-Sirius might still be alive.
But then she saw Remus looking at her, and she forced herself to straighten her shoulders and raise her chin. He had known Sirius much longer and better than she had, and this was the second time he had mourned the loss of that friendship. The last thing in the world he needed was to have to take care of her.
Remus wrapped his arms around his knees and looked out over the water. “I’ve found that what you have to do with grief is to push it back, push it down.” His jaw clenched. “Make it small, and lock it away where it can’t get out.”
That’s what he’s doing, when he looks like he’s gone off somewhere, she realised all at once. Trying to push back his flood of grief.
She watched him from the corner of her eye, feeling chilled to the bone.
Does that work?
There was no doubt that Remus had much more experience with grief than she had. But she had always thought that grief needed to be aired out-exposed to the light of day until its pain faded with time.
If you bottle it up, won’t it be there, inside you, forever?
He took a deep breath and let it out again, slowly. “I find the pushing down much easier to do, here.” He turned back to face her, eyes still burning with that unexpected intensity. “That’s why I wanted to show you this place.”
Tonks stared back, lost in those eyes that held worry and sympathy as much as they held pain and grief.
He reached out and touched her hand. “I want you to feel you can come here. Anytime you need to.”
His fingers slid away, but she could still feel exactly where his skin had touched hers.
“Thanks,” she said, even though the word was utterly inadequate.
She watched him watching the pounding surf.
Remus had brought her here, to this hidden place from his past-a place he had never even told Sirius about, it seemed-because it was the best way he knew of coping with the pain of loss.
Because he wanted her to have a refuge, too.
And today, hadn’t it been those moments when he was the most concerned about her that had pulled him out of his own fog of grief?
She thought of the words that Sirius had spoken-only days ago, although it felt much longer ago than that. I’m positive he’s halfway besotted with you already, even if he doesn't know it.
She wanted Remus to hold her again. She wanted it so badly that it threatened to bring more tears to her eyes. Not that their brief hug in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place had erased the pain of Sirius’s death, but it had surrounded her cold lonely grief with a moment of warmth and comfort that had made the loss more bearable, while it lasted.
She blinked, hard, and made her own attempt at a smile. “It means a lot that you’ve brought me here.”
His eyes found hers.
“And it means a lot,” she said softly, “that I’m not alone. Not like you were when James and Lily died.”
His hand, on the robes between them, clenched into a fist.
She rested her hand on top of it.
After a moment, the fist uncurled. He wrapped his fingers gently around hers. She gave a little squeeze, and he squeezed back.
Maybe Sirius had been right.
Maybe this was a start.
. * fin * .
Author: shimotsuki
Rating & warnings: PG/mild profanity, reference to character death
Prompt: tourist
Word count: 2536 words
Summary: Remus finds an unexpected way to help Tonks deal with Sirius’s death. She can’t help wondering whether it means that Sirius was right about Remus’s feelings for her.
Author’s notes: This is a stand-alone story, but it fits into the Kaleidoscope series, and it is something of a sequel to Friends. Many thanks to gilpin25 and katyhasclogs for help with British coastal geography -- and thanks to the mods for the deadline extension, which gave me a chance to rewrite the ending!
Catching Hold
Tonks very narrowly avoided tripping over the troll’s foot umbrella stand that guarded the entrance hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Her close brush with chaos was normal and familiar, and for an instant it nearly made her smile-but only nearly.
Because everything else was terribly, terribly wrong.
Even the silence of the old house was wrong. It should have been the bored silence of Sirius taking one of his lazy naps on some musty sofa somewhere, or even the sullen silence of Sirius drinking himself into a stupor in the middle of the afternoon.
But not this.
Not this barren silence that meant Sirius would never come home again.
It didn’t seem right that the umbrella stand could still wobble in its usual way, under the circumstances. At least she was saved from a frustrating spill when Remus’s hand, strong and reassuring, closed around her elbow to steady her.
“Thanks,” she whispered, automatically glancing at the portrait of old Great-Aunt Walburga to see if they had disturbed it, but the strident voice remained silent behind the tattered curtains.
A familiar swift smile flashed across Remus’s face in response. Only, it didn’t reach his eyes.
That was wrong, too.
And she didn’t know a bloody thing she could do to fix it.
“Will you be all right on your own?” he asked, his voice a low murmur. “I want to liberate a few of the more useful books from the library. It doesn’t look like ownership of the house has passed to Bellatrix, but we probably shouldn’t risk coming here again until we know for certain.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Tonks disengaged her elbow from his careful grip. “I have a few T-shirts upstairs, and my favourite mug is in the kitchen, but I think that’s all.”
Remus nodded. They started up the stairs together, but he left her at the first-floor landing to head for the library. She went on, up two more flights, to the bedroom she had used on the rare occasions when she had stayed at headquarters overnight or caught a nap between shifts.
Pulling open the top drawer of an ornate dresser, she scooped up a handful of T-shirts and a small pile of clean knickers, stuffing everything into her satchel. She checked the rest of the room for anything else she might have left there, mechanically following standard Auror search procedures.
Her mind, however, was on Remus.
“I don’t know what he did after that Hallowe’en,” Sirius had told her once, frustrated. “I can’t get him to talk about the first year or two at all. The only thing I know is, he gave up his flat and started travelling. He says he was simply looking for work, but knowing Moony-” He sighed. “I can just see him, pulling away from Dumbledore and the rest of the Order-wandering aimlessly through his own damn life like a bloody tourist, with no connection to anything or anyone-”
Tonks had shivered. “He’s all right now, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, I think he is.” Sirius had smiled grimly and taken a slug of firewhisky. “But we need to make sure he stays all right, peanut. You and I.”
Now, Tonks closed the bedroom door firmly behind her and started down the long staircase again. If you didn't look too closely, she mused, you’d probably think that Remus is doing just fine. Level-headed. Capable. Remus was the one who had come here with Kingsley right away-when Tonks herself was still in hospital, unconscious-to gather up all the Order’s documents in case the house had been compromised. He had already started working with Dumbledore to develop new plans for surveillance on Death Eaters. He had even stayed late after last night’s Order meeting at the Burrow to help Molly with the washing-up, just like always.
But his eyes were so very far away.
Tonks bit her lip. He hadn’t been this remote three days ago, when he had come to see her at St. Mungo’s. Then, she had seen his grief and his pain, had felt his hand grip hers as much to seek comfort as to offer it.
So this distance was a new development.
Unless it was an old one-unless this was the Remus of 1981, cutting loose all his ties...
She scowled.
There had to be something she could do to bring him back.
. * . * .
Tonks herself was doing just fine until she pushed open the door to the dark, empty basement kitchen and saw the chair.
The scuffed wooden chair, still standing a little askew as though pushed back hastily from the table, had been Sirius’s favourite perch. He had slumped in it, tipped it back on two legs, kicked its rungs with his boots, pounded on its arms when he was winning at Exploding Poker-
Her satchel thudded to the floor as she covered her face with her hands, shaking with the force of her sobs.
“Tonks?”
Footsteps started slowly down the stairs-and then hurried to the bottom. A warm hand found her shoulder.
“Oh, Tonks.” Remus’s voice was bleak.
“Sorry,” she gasped from between her fingers. “I’m sorry-” She never cried. Not in front of other people, anyway. And Remus had his own burden of grief to worry about.
The hand on her shoulder pressed harder, turning her toward him. Before she realised what he was going to do, he had already done it.
He was holding her.
Remus Lupin, who never touched her except to catch her gently by the arm when she was in danger of losing her balance, was holding her.
The shock stopped her tears. She pushed her damp face into his robes and slid her arms around him, palms flat and open over the sharp edges of his shoulder blades.
“Ssh,” he said, patting her gently on the back. “That’s right.”
Her heart was pounding hard enough to hurt. How many nights had she dreamed of exactly this?
Well-not exactly this. Her dreams had not in fact featured Remus hugging her the way he might hug Molly or Hermione or Ginny, or possibly even Harry-offering simple comfort and friendship in the face of grief.
But he was holding her, all the same.
She kept her eyes closed and concentrated, trying to memorise everything: the faint scent of soap and tea, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, the warmth of his arms.
And then, reluctantly, she straightened and pulled away, fishing for a handkerchief in her pocket. What Remus was actually offering her was comfort. It wouldn’t be fair to try to take too many other things.
“Tonks?” He touched her shoulder again, lightly, with the tips of his fingers. She looked up and met his gaze, and had her second shock.
His brow was knitted in concern, and he was looking straight at her with eyes that were indisputably right there.
Wherever he had been for the last few days, he was back now.
“Do you...” He frowned, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Are you busy this afternoon?”
“Me? No, not really.” She cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. “I’m on medical leave for a few days.”
“There’s a-place. Somewhere I’d like to show you. Will you come with me, by Side-Along?”
Tonks found she was holding her breath. She had never gone anywhere with Remus that wasn’t for an Order mission.
“Yeah.” She tried to smile at him. “Just let me get my mug from the cupboard. That’s the last of my things.”
She rested her hand for an instant on the back of Sirius’s chair as she walked past.
. * . * .
When Tonks emerged from the dark squeeze of Apparition, there was uneven, shifting sand underfoot. She found herself-what else?-off-balance. But the iron grip she still had on Remus’s arm let her regain her footing.
Releasing her hold, she spun in a circle, looking around curiously.
They stood in a small cove, a few paces away from the sea. Rocky cliffs, leaning out over their heads, hid the cove from anyone who might be peering down from above. Jagged rocks littered the water, breaking the surf into swirls of white. The beach was effectively inaccessible from either land or sea, she realised. It was certainly a safe place to Apparate undetected.
A stiff breeze whipped through her short curls-she had managed a pale blue today, which proved she was healing-and sent the waves crashing against the rocks and onto the shore. The pounding surf beat out a harsh but somehow soothing rhythm. She saw the set of Remus’s shoulders relax a fraction, and his breathing slowed and deepened; surely that was a good thing. But his eyes were distant again.
Tonks touched his arm. “Where are we?”
“In Devon.” Remus turned toward her, focussed now. Maybe he had simply been gazing out to sea. “Not too far from Lynton. My father found this place, years ago.”
He shrugged out of his robes, revealing a frayed shirt and worn pair of trousers. “Shall we sit for a few minutes?”
When she nodded, he spread the robes out on the sand and waited for to Tonks to sit before settling himself beside her.
He gave her half a smile. “Dad used to bring me here after moons sometimes, especially when I’d had a bad transformation.” His gaze slid away, then, but that was all right; it was only his familiar discomfort with anything that had to do with the topic of lycanthropy.
“It’s nice.” She looked out across the water. “Peaceful.”
“Yes.” Remus scooped up a handful of sand and let it run out between his fingers. They both watched it fall.
“I like the sound of the waves,” he said, quietly. “You don’t have to think, here. You can just listen. That’s why-” He broke off.
Tonks looked up at him and caught her breath. His gaze was as intense as she had ever seen it, and he was looking straight at her.
She had the wild thought that he was more present than usual, just now.
“I spent a lot of time here after James and Lily died. It-it helped.” He tried another smile. It wasn’t quite successful, but he didn’t look away.
“Oh,” she said, very softly. She shivered, imagining a Remus younger than she was now, coming to this place because his world had ended.
Coming to this place because he was alone.
He picked up more sand, but this time he turned his hand over and opened his fist, letting it fall all at once.
“Grief-” He stopped again, searching for words, smoothing the sand flat under his fingers. “It’s like a flood. If you let it, it will pull you in and sweep you away.”
“Yeah.” Tonks swallowed, hard. “I think I know what you mean.” It was like that, especially at night, when she was alone in the dark. She would imagine, over and over again, what she had not actually seen: Sirius falling through the grasping tattered curtains of the veil. She would be haunted by that moment when her hex had missed and Bellatrix’s had found its target. And she would feel herself crushed under the weight of the knowledge that if only she had taken Bellatrix down-as she was trained to do, for Merlin’s sake-Sirius might still be alive.
But then she saw Remus looking at her, and she forced herself to straighten her shoulders and raise her chin. He had known Sirius much longer and better than she had, and this was the second time he had mourned the loss of that friendship. The last thing in the world he needed was to have to take care of her.
Remus wrapped his arms around his knees and looked out over the water. “I’ve found that what you have to do with grief is to push it back, push it down.” His jaw clenched. “Make it small, and lock it away where it can’t get out.”
That’s what he’s doing, when he looks like he’s gone off somewhere, she realised all at once. Trying to push back his flood of grief.
She watched him from the corner of her eye, feeling chilled to the bone.
Does that work?
There was no doubt that Remus had much more experience with grief than she had. But she had always thought that grief needed to be aired out-exposed to the light of day until its pain faded with time.
If you bottle it up, won’t it be there, inside you, forever?
He took a deep breath and let it out again, slowly. “I find the pushing down much easier to do, here.” He turned back to face her, eyes still burning with that unexpected intensity. “That’s why I wanted to show you this place.”
Tonks stared back, lost in those eyes that held worry and sympathy as much as they held pain and grief.
He reached out and touched her hand. “I want you to feel you can come here. Anytime you need to.”
His fingers slid away, but she could still feel exactly where his skin had touched hers.
“Thanks,” she said, even though the word was utterly inadequate.
She watched him watching the pounding surf.
Remus had brought her here, to this hidden place from his past-a place he had never even told Sirius about, it seemed-because it was the best way he knew of coping with the pain of loss.
Because he wanted her to have a refuge, too.
And today, hadn’t it been those moments when he was the most concerned about her that had pulled him out of his own fog of grief?
She thought of the words that Sirius had spoken-only days ago, although it felt much longer ago than that. I’m positive he’s halfway besotted with you already, even if he doesn't know it.
She wanted Remus to hold her again. She wanted it so badly that it threatened to bring more tears to her eyes. Not that their brief hug in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place had erased the pain of Sirius’s death, but it had surrounded her cold lonely grief with a moment of warmth and comfort that had made the loss more bearable, while it lasted.
She blinked, hard, and made her own attempt at a smile. “It means a lot that you’ve brought me here.”
His eyes found hers.
“And it means a lot,” she said softly, “that I’m not alone. Not like you were when James and Lily died.”
His hand, on the robes between them, clenched into a fist.
She rested her hand on top of it.
After a moment, the fist uncurled. He wrapped his fingers gently around hers. She gave a little squeeze, and he squeezed back.
Maybe Sirius had been right.
Maybe this was a start.
. * fin * .