Fic: Sanctuary
Title: Sanctuary
Author: shimotsuki
Rating & Warnings: PG; mild profanity
Prompt(s): a prank, "I’ll have a blue Christmas without you..." -Blue Christmas
Format & Word Count: Fic, 3045 words
Summary: Tonks wasn't going to go to the Burrow on Christmas, until she got Molly's owl.
Author’s Notes: Whew -- made it! This story stands alone, but it is part of the Kaleidoscope series and makes brief reference to events in Catching Hold and Subterfuge.
Sanctuary
Tonks trudged up the snow-covered path to the little cottage that the Aurors used when they were stationed in Hogsmeade. The light was just starting to turn a deeper gold as the sun began to sink toward the distant hills-Christmas wasn’t quite over yet.
She laughed a little, bitterly, under her breath. Last year, when she’d have given just about anything to join in the fun at Grimmauld Place, she’d been assigned a double shift on Christmas Day. This year, with nowhere to go, she had the whole evening free.
She worked her way through a web of security spells that even Mad-Eye would have found tolerably adequate and let herself into the cottage, shaking out her cloak and pulling off her soggy boots.
“Oi, Tonks,” said Savage, snatching up his own cloak on his way out the door, “you’ve had an owl. Only it fell asleep in the kitchen, waiting for you.”
“Thanks,” she called over her shoulder, and scrambled for the cosy flagstone kitchen. It’s not him, warned the sharp little voice in her head. Not him not him not-
But the sleeping owl was Errol, and despite the little voice Tonks felt a stubborn flash of hope-Remus was at the Burrow for Christmas.
Except that the handwriting on the letter turned out to be Molly’s.
Tonks, dear-
Happy Christmas!
Won’t you change your mind and come to the Burrow for a while this evening? I know you said you didn’t feel you could unless Remus himself suggested it. But you see, I just don’t think it has occurred to him to ask you-I’ve been dropping hints on your behalf for days, but no matter how much we urge him to treat the Burrow as his home, he still acts as though he’s only a guest here.
He’s been so sad and quiet, staring into the fire and going for long walks on his own. I think he misses you, dear. I think it would make his Christmas if you came.
We’re having a late supper tonight, with lots of pies and plum pudding, and we would love to have you join us.
Fondly,
-Molly
Tonks fed the drowsy Errol a gingerbread biscuit from a tin that Proudfoot’s gran had sent, holding Molly’s letter half-crumpled in her other hand. She hadn’t seen Remus since October, since the day he’d given her his wand for safekeeping. And she hadn’t planned to see him for Christmas; she’d carefully left his wand with Molly the day before he was due at the Burrow.
Did she dare go and see him now, in front of all those Weasleys and Harry? Could she sit there and chat, smiling politely, talking about nothing, when what she really wanted to do was either fling herself at him or shake him until he saw reason?
Or both...
Tonks looked at the letter again. I think he misses you, dear. I think it would make his Christmas if you came.
He’d called her his best mate, that day last autumn.
If he still thought that way, maybe he would want to see her at Christmas.
And he was going back to the werewolf camp in the morning. If she didn’t see him today, she might not have another chance for months.
Her resolve to stay away crumbled like Errol’s gingerbread biscuit. She marched into the bedroom she was using and exchanged her Auror robes for a pair of jeans and the pink jumper Molly had knitted for her last Christmas. She pulled a face at her drab reflection in the mirror, tying a vivid red silk scarf around her lank brown hair. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she pulled her boots back on, wrapped herself up in her cloak, and Apparated straight into the back garden at the Burrow.
. * . * .
“Oh! Look out!” came Ginny’s voice.
Tonks whirled and ducked, and a large wet snowball missed her by inches.
“Sorry!” Ginny swooped down, landing her broom. Ron, Harry, and the twins were zooming about overhead, having some kind of fierce-looking mid-air snowball fight. Tonks grinned a little, watching them.
“Good training for my Auror reflexes,” she said. “Is-erm-are the others inside?”
“In the kitchen,” said Ginny, before kicking off to rejoin the fray. “Merry Christmas!”
Tonks found her steps slowing as she neared the kitchen door. How would Remus react when she appeared? Was she about to make a fool of herself-and him-in front of half the Order?
She stretched a smile across her face, knocked politely, and pushed the door open. “Wotcher! Happy Christmas!”
The kitchen was warm and bright, festooned with pine garland and holly, smelling of cinnamon.
And he wasn’t there.
There was a brief bustle, as Molly and Arthur and Bill all hugged her, and Molly offered tea, and Fleur nodded regally from across the table. One part of Tonks’s mind kept her smile intact and said friendly things.
But most of her was stuck on that one realization: He wasn’t there.
“Tea first,” said Molly, steering her into a seat at the table and pushing a warm cup into her cold hands. “Then you might like to go and find Remus. I think he’s gone for a walk again.”
“Thanks,” said Tonks, more for the information than for the cup of tea. Molly patted her shoulder and sat back down. Tonks sipped at the hot, sweet tea as quickly as she could.
“Remus is out walking again?” Fleur tucked a strand of silvery hair behind one ear and shook her head. “’E ’as not been ’eemself this Christmas. I suppose ’e is tired of living with those savages.”
Arthur, watching Tonks’s face, said, “He’s been a bit quieter than usual, maybe, but I think he’s doing all right. He’s quite strong, you know.”
Tonks set the half-empty teacup down abruptly and stood. Her chair nearly went over, but Arthur caught it and steadied it.
“I think I’ll go see if I can find him,” she said. “Be back in a few minutes, yeah?” She found another smile somewhere and slipped back out through the door.
Outside, the snowball fight had given way to snowman construction. The younger children were rolling snowballs now, and the twins had their wands out, trying to charm snow into place.
“Molly says Remus went for a walk,” said Tonks, aiming for casual. “Anyone happen to see which way he went?”
“Not really,” said Ron. Harry and Ginny shook their heads.
But the twins exchanged a glance.
“I think he usually goes walking down by the river,” said George. “But this time was different.”
“Yeah,” said Fred. “As soon as he was past the security spells, he Disapparated. No idea where he was going.”
“We, erm, might have upset him a bit,” said George.
Fred nodded. “He looked like he could do with a bit of cheering up-”
“-so we pranked him with a new Christmas Wheeze-”
“-we thought he’d like it, he always did last year-”
“-but he only smiled that ghastly tight smile of his, you know the one-”
“-and he said he thought he’d take a turn in the fresh air.”
Both twins looked glum.
Disapparated. And he’d been visibly upset. Tonks nodded, slowly. “I think I know where he’s gone.”
. * . * .
Tonks Apparated near the base of the cliff, on the far side of the beach from the crashing waves.
She’d guessed right. Remus was here, at the nearly inaccessible cove he’d shown her last spring after Sirius died. The secret place he came to let the sound of the waves fill his head when thinking hurt too much.
He was facing away from her, walking slowly along the water’s edge. He wore a bright red jumper that had the look of a Weasley Christmas present, but he was huddled into it-head down, arms and shoulders drawn in. Wrapped tightly around his neck, several times, was the lumpy, misshapen muffler she’d made for him last winter.
Tonks picked her way carefully down toward the water. The sea winds had blown away most of the snow, but her boots slipped in the sand until she reached the narrow strip that was washed flat at high tide and now waited, damply, to collect footprints. Her steps made a second trail that crossed over Remus’s as she hurried after him. She didn’t call out; he wouldn’t hear her over the roar of the surf.
She had almost caught up when he reached the point where the beach ended, a curve of jagged cliff that swept into the sea. He stood still for a moment, gazing out over the water, and then turned around to walk back the other way. From this angle, he looked just as gaunt as he had when she’d seen him in the autumn, despite several days of rest and bountiful meals at the Burrow. Even his Weasley jumper was too big, as though Molly had knitted it for the Remus she remembered from before he’d gone away.
He froze when he saw her, eyes wide with surprise.
But then a broad smile lit his face, dispelling the shadows of whatever thoughts he’d been lost in. He uncrossed his arms and straightened up, and looked almost himself.
“Tonks,” he said. “Happy Christmas! How on earth did you find me here?”
Wounded by the brightness of his smile, she couldn’t answer at first. If the mere sight of her made him this happy, why did he insist on pushing her away?
“They said at the Burrow you’d gone for a walk,” she managed. “I thought I’d see if this was where.”
His eyes slid away, sheepishly. “I-well. Fred and George came up with a clever little prank, a Charmed ornament. When you pick it up, it swarms around your head and bellows ‘Deck the Halls’ at you.”
“Ah,” said Tonks, carefully. Sirius had done something very similar last December, once when the three of them had been laughing and drinking late into the night. Only that had been a wassailing song, naturally.
“I’m afraid I rather disappointed them, with my lack of appreciation.” Remus shook his head. “But it surprised me so, and I just couldn’t-”
The lost look in his eyes frightened her. She stepped closer, and without even thinking started to reach out to touch his arm, but he collected himself and smiled again, if a little ruefully.
She crossed her arms over her chest instead.
“I’ll just have to make it up to them later,” he said. “They’re doing wonders with that shop of theirs, you know.”
She nodded, but it wasn’t Fred and George she wanted to hear about. “How have you been? How are things going with the mission?”
She wondered what answers he would be willing to give.
The smile remained, although it turned a shade sardonic. “You’ve heard the reports I’ve sent back with Mad-Eye?”
Tonks nodded. No measurable progress, the reports generally said. No allies yet. Increased Death Eater activity this week. Greyback and inner circle sympathetic to Death Eaters; no one willing to challenge Greyback.
“Well, then. They haven’t turned on me, thrown me out, or torn me to pieces.” The smile was bitter now. “I think that has to count as some measure of success. And so, I’ll press on.”
“But-how are you? Really.” Talk to me, she pleaded silently. Trust me.
The bitter smile fell away. “I’m all right,” he said, quietly. “I don’t think I’m doing much good, but the Order needs this, so I’ll keep trying for as long as I can.” He sighed. “I’ve been taking raw aconite before moons, to keep myself from biting anyone-”
Tonks winced. Raw aconite wouldn’t work like the Wolfsbane Potion; it would only make the wolf, and the man, terribly nauseous.
“-and I think I’ve talked one other werewolf into giving it a try this month.”
“Oh!” she said, surprised. “That sounds like real progress!”
He shrugged. “It’s something. We’ll see what happens after the moon.” And then he smiled at her, a real smile again. “I really am all right, you know. But I do miss coming to Order meetings and seeing everyone. I miss-I miss you. It’s good to see you today.”
The light in his eyes was warm-so warm-
Her throat ached with tears that she would not shed. Her heart ached with love and loneliness, worry and need.
“Remus-” She stepped closer again, and then, even before she realised what she was doing, her shaking fingers had reached out to touch his cheek.
“Don’t.” He jerked away, and the light vanished from his eyes, to be replaced by pain and longing for a brief instant before his walls came crashing down. Tonks wasn’t sure whether to kick herself for making him unhappy, or to shake him for letting this be one more problem instead of their salvation.
Either way, the feel of the faint scratch of stubble on his cold, wind-roughened cheek was burned into her fingertips.
Remus had stepped away a pace, and now he crossed his arms and huddled into his jumper again. When he turned back, his face was bleak.
“Tonks,” he rasped. “Please. Your friendship is-it’s one of the most important things I have left, and I couldn’t bear to lose it. But-please don’t start pushing for things we can never have.”
His words stung. But she made note that he’d said we, not you.
And she’d seen the look in his eyes.
So she dug in her heels and tried again.
“It’s hard,” she said, around the ache in her throat. “You’re out there alone, with those dangerous people and no one you can trust. And I’m spending my work shifts chasing off Dementors and the rest of my time trying to spy on Death Eaters. We’re both cold, and exhausted, and lonely, all the time.”
She saw from the way his lips tightened that her words had hit home.
“I know we can’t be together. I know I’ll hardly ever see you while you’re on this mission.”
She took a step closer to him, holding his gaze, and he didn’t back away.
“But we would be so much stronger, both of us, if we had our-” her voice cracked-“our love to depend on. To carry in our hearts through the dark times.”
He shook his head, and his face was about as closed as she’d ever seen it. “The last thing you need is a relationship with an impoverished old werewolf as one more millstone around your neck.”
Oh, how she wanted to shake him. But she kept her fists at her sides.
“I don’t care,” she shouted instead. He flinched. Good. “We’ve been over this before. It doesn’t matter one whit if you’re older than me. And I’m not looking for someone rich-I love my job, and it pays enough.”
“I’m still a werewolf,” he said, woodenly. “No amount of optimism on your part can conjure up anything to say about that.”
She stepped toward him again, and leaned forward, staring him down. “It’s not optimism, Remus. It’s realism. I’m an Auror, for Merlin’s sake. I know how to take care of myself.”
He shook his head and stepped back, staring past her, eyes hooded and mouth tight. Tonks made to run her fingers through her hair out of sheer frustration, and she dislodged the red scarf she’d forgotten she was wearing. She swore, grabbing for it, but the wind tore it away. By the time she had drawn her wand to Summon it back, Remus had snatched it out of the air. He held it, running it through his fingers until the silk snagged on his calloused skin and he sighed, stilling the restless motion.
He held the scarf out, and she took it, stuffing it unceremoniously into the pocket of her jeans.
The waves rolled and crashed in a rhythm that was violent and soothing at the same time. Tonks rather thought she understood why Remus needed this place.
“I didn’t mean to fight with you on Christmas,” she said, quietly. “I just wanted to see you today. I’ve missed you, too.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m glad you found me.”
Deliberately, she reached over and took his hand. He stiffened, at first, but then he let his fingers curl around hers.
She was careful not to hold on too tightly.
The waves rolled on, crashing, and she saw Remus close his eyes to listen. But the light was fading now, and the wind really had turned quite cold.
“Molly promised pies for supper,” she said. “Shall we go and find some?”
“That sounds like a fine plan,” said Remus. “The kitchen smelled wonderful all afternoon.”
And then he smiled, one more true smile, and his hand squeezed hers. Tonks caught her breath. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, but it would do for Christmas night.
“There’s one condition, though,” he warned.
Tonks looked up, frowning until she spotted the familiar-and dearly missed-gleam in his eye.
“Of course.” Her frown vanished in a grin of anticipation. “What is it?”
“I’ll need your help.” The mischief in his smile, with his fingers still wrapped around hers, was better than a hundred Warming Charms. “I owe the twins a Christmas prank, you see.”
. * fin * .
Author: shimotsuki
Rating & Warnings: PG; mild profanity
Prompt(s): a prank, "I’ll have a blue Christmas without you..." -Blue Christmas
Format & Word Count: Fic, 3045 words
Summary: Tonks wasn't going to go to the Burrow on Christmas, until she got Molly's owl.
Author’s Notes: Whew -- made it! This story stands alone, but it is part of the Kaleidoscope series and makes brief reference to events in Catching Hold and Subterfuge.
Sanctuary
Tonks trudged up the snow-covered path to the little cottage that the Aurors used when they were stationed in Hogsmeade. The light was just starting to turn a deeper gold as the sun began to sink toward the distant hills-Christmas wasn’t quite over yet.
She laughed a little, bitterly, under her breath. Last year, when she’d have given just about anything to join in the fun at Grimmauld Place, she’d been assigned a double shift on Christmas Day. This year, with nowhere to go, she had the whole evening free.
She worked her way through a web of security spells that even Mad-Eye would have found tolerably adequate and let herself into the cottage, shaking out her cloak and pulling off her soggy boots.
“Oi, Tonks,” said Savage, snatching up his own cloak on his way out the door, “you’ve had an owl. Only it fell asleep in the kitchen, waiting for you.”
“Thanks,” she called over her shoulder, and scrambled for the cosy flagstone kitchen. It’s not him, warned the sharp little voice in her head. Not him not him not-
But the sleeping owl was Errol, and despite the little voice Tonks felt a stubborn flash of hope-Remus was at the Burrow for Christmas.
Except that the handwriting on the letter turned out to be Molly’s.
Tonks, dear-
Happy Christmas!
Won’t you change your mind and come to the Burrow for a while this evening? I know you said you didn’t feel you could unless Remus himself suggested it. But you see, I just don’t think it has occurred to him to ask you-I’ve been dropping hints on your behalf for days, but no matter how much we urge him to treat the Burrow as his home, he still acts as though he’s only a guest here.
He’s been so sad and quiet, staring into the fire and going for long walks on his own. I think he misses you, dear. I think it would make his Christmas if you came.
We’re having a late supper tonight, with lots of pies and plum pudding, and we would love to have you join us.
Fondly,
-Molly
Tonks fed the drowsy Errol a gingerbread biscuit from a tin that Proudfoot’s gran had sent, holding Molly’s letter half-crumpled in her other hand. She hadn’t seen Remus since October, since the day he’d given her his wand for safekeeping. And she hadn’t planned to see him for Christmas; she’d carefully left his wand with Molly the day before he was due at the Burrow.
Did she dare go and see him now, in front of all those Weasleys and Harry? Could she sit there and chat, smiling politely, talking about nothing, when what she really wanted to do was either fling herself at him or shake him until he saw reason?
Or both...
Tonks looked at the letter again. I think he misses you, dear. I think it would make his Christmas if you came.
He’d called her his best mate, that day last autumn.
If he still thought that way, maybe he would want to see her at Christmas.
And he was going back to the werewolf camp in the morning. If she didn’t see him today, she might not have another chance for months.
Her resolve to stay away crumbled like Errol’s gingerbread biscuit. She marched into the bedroom she was using and exchanged her Auror robes for a pair of jeans and the pink jumper Molly had knitted for her last Christmas. She pulled a face at her drab reflection in the mirror, tying a vivid red silk scarf around her lank brown hair. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she pulled her boots back on, wrapped herself up in her cloak, and Apparated straight into the back garden at the Burrow.
. * . * .
“Oh! Look out!” came Ginny’s voice.
Tonks whirled and ducked, and a large wet snowball missed her by inches.
“Sorry!” Ginny swooped down, landing her broom. Ron, Harry, and the twins were zooming about overhead, having some kind of fierce-looking mid-air snowball fight. Tonks grinned a little, watching them.
“Good training for my Auror reflexes,” she said. “Is-erm-are the others inside?”
“In the kitchen,” said Ginny, before kicking off to rejoin the fray. “Merry Christmas!”
Tonks found her steps slowing as she neared the kitchen door. How would Remus react when she appeared? Was she about to make a fool of herself-and him-in front of half the Order?
She stretched a smile across her face, knocked politely, and pushed the door open. “Wotcher! Happy Christmas!”
The kitchen was warm and bright, festooned with pine garland and holly, smelling of cinnamon.
And he wasn’t there.
There was a brief bustle, as Molly and Arthur and Bill all hugged her, and Molly offered tea, and Fleur nodded regally from across the table. One part of Tonks’s mind kept her smile intact and said friendly things.
But most of her was stuck on that one realization: He wasn’t there.
“Tea first,” said Molly, steering her into a seat at the table and pushing a warm cup into her cold hands. “Then you might like to go and find Remus. I think he’s gone for a walk again.”
“Thanks,” said Tonks, more for the information than for the cup of tea. Molly patted her shoulder and sat back down. Tonks sipped at the hot, sweet tea as quickly as she could.
“Remus is out walking again?” Fleur tucked a strand of silvery hair behind one ear and shook her head. “’E ’as not been ’eemself this Christmas. I suppose ’e is tired of living with those savages.”
Arthur, watching Tonks’s face, said, “He’s been a bit quieter than usual, maybe, but I think he’s doing all right. He’s quite strong, you know.”
Tonks set the half-empty teacup down abruptly and stood. Her chair nearly went over, but Arthur caught it and steadied it.
“I think I’ll go see if I can find him,” she said. “Be back in a few minutes, yeah?” She found another smile somewhere and slipped back out through the door.
Outside, the snowball fight had given way to snowman construction. The younger children were rolling snowballs now, and the twins had their wands out, trying to charm snow into place.
“Molly says Remus went for a walk,” said Tonks, aiming for casual. “Anyone happen to see which way he went?”
“Not really,” said Ron. Harry and Ginny shook their heads.
But the twins exchanged a glance.
“I think he usually goes walking down by the river,” said George. “But this time was different.”
“Yeah,” said Fred. “As soon as he was past the security spells, he Disapparated. No idea where he was going.”
“We, erm, might have upset him a bit,” said George.
Fred nodded. “He looked like he could do with a bit of cheering up-”
“-so we pranked him with a new Christmas Wheeze-”
“-we thought he’d like it, he always did last year-”
“-but he only smiled that ghastly tight smile of his, you know the one-”
“-and he said he thought he’d take a turn in the fresh air.”
Both twins looked glum.
Disapparated. And he’d been visibly upset. Tonks nodded, slowly. “I think I know where he’s gone.”
. * . * .
Tonks Apparated near the base of the cliff, on the far side of the beach from the crashing waves.
She’d guessed right. Remus was here, at the nearly inaccessible cove he’d shown her last spring after Sirius died. The secret place he came to let the sound of the waves fill his head when thinking hurt too much.
He was facing away from her, walking slowly along the water’s edge. He wore a bright red jumper that had the look of a Weasley Christmas present, but he was huddled into it-head down, arms and shoulders drawn in. Wrapped tightly around his neck, several times, was the lumpy, misshapen muffler she’d made for him last winter.
Tonks picked her way carefully down toward the water. The sea winds had blown away most of the snow, but her boots slipped in the sand until she reached the narrow strip that was washed flat at high tide and now waited, damply, to collect footprints. Her steps made a second trail that crossed over Remus’s as she hurried after him. She didn’t call out; he wouldn’t hear her over the roar of the surf.
She had almost caught up when he reached the point where the beach ended, a curve of jagged cliff that swept into the sea. He stood still for a moment, gazing out over the water, and then turned around to walk back the other way. From this angle, he looked just as gaunt as he had when she’d seen him in the autumn, despite several days of rest and bountiful meals at the Burrow. Even his Weasley jumper was too big, as though Molly had knitted it for the Remus she remembered from before he’d gone away.
He froze when he saw her, eyes wide with surprise.
But then a broad smile lit his face, dispelling the shadows of whatever thoughts he’d been lost in. He uncrossed his arms and straightened up, and looked almost himself.
“Tonks,” he said. “Happy Christmas! How on earth did you find me here?”
Wounded by the brightness of his smile, she couldn’t answer at first. If the mere sight of her made him this happy, why did he insist on pushing her away?
“They said at the Burrow you’d gone for a walk,” she managed. “I thought I’d see if this was where.”
His eyes slid away, sheepishly. “I-well. Fred and George came up with a clever little prank, a Charmed ornament. When you pick it up, it swarms around your head and bellows ‘Deck the Halls’ at you.”
“Ah,” said Tonks, carefully. Sirius had done something very similar last December, once when the three of them had been laughing and drinking late into the night. Only that had been a wassailing song, naturally.
“I’m afraid I rather disappointed them, with my lack of appreciation.” Remus shook his head. “But it surprised me so, and I just couldn’t-”
The lost look in his eyes frightened her. She stepped closer, and without even thinking started to reach out to touch his arm, but he collected himself and smiled again, if a little ruefully.
She crossed her arms over her chest instead.
“I’ll just have to make it up to them later,” he said. “They’re doing wonders with that shop of theirs, you know.”
She nodded, but it wasn’t Fred and George she wanted to hear about. “How have you been? How are things going with the mission?”
She wondered what answers he would be willing to give.
The smile remained, although it turned a shade sardonic. “You’ve heard the reports I’ve sent back with Mad-Eye?”
Tonks nodded. No measurable progress, the reports generally said. No allies yet. Increased Death Eater activity this week. Greyback and inner circle sympathetic to Death Eaters; no one willing to challenge Greyback.
“Well, then. They haven’t turned on me, thrown me out, or torn me to pieces.” The smile was bitter now. “I think that has to count as some measure of success. And so, I’ll press on.”
“But-how are you? Really.” Talk to me, she pleaded silently. Trust me.
The bitter smile fell away. “I’m all right,” he said, quietly. “I don’t think I’m doing much good, but the Order needs this, so I’ll keep trying for as long as I can.” He sighed. “I’ve been taking raw aconite before moons, to keep myself from biting anyone-”
Tonks winced. Raw aconite wouldn’t work like the Wolfsbane Potion; it would only make the wolf, and the man, terribly nauseous.
“-and I think I’ve talked one other werewolf into giving it a try this month.”
“Oh!” she said, surprised. “That sounds like real progress!”
He shrugged. “It’s something. We’ll see what happens after the moon.” And then he smiled at her, a real smile again. “I really am all right, you know. But I do miss coming to Order meetings and seeing everyone. I miss-I miss you. It’s good to see you today.”
The light in his eyes was warm-so warm-
Her throat ached with tears that she would not shed. Her heart ached with love and loneliness, worry and need.
“Remus-” She stepped closer again, and then, even before she realised what she was doing, her shaking fingers had reached out to touch his cheek.
“Don’t.” He jerked away, and the light vanished from his eyes, to be replaced by pain and longing for a brief instant before his walls came crashing down. Tonks wasn’t sure whether to kick herself for making him unhappy, or to shake him for letting this be one more problem instead of their salvation.
Either way, the feel of the faint scratch of stubble on his cold, wind-roughened cheek was burned into her fingertips.
Remus had stepped away a pace, and now he crossed his arms and huddled into his jumper again. When he turned back, his face was bleak.
“Tonks,” he rasped. “Please. Your friendship is-it’s one of the most important things I have left, and I couldn’t bear to lose it. But-please don’t start pushing for things we can never have.”
His words stung. But she made note that he’d said we, not you.
And she’d seen the look in his eyes.
So she dug in her heels and tried again.
“It’s hard,” she said, around the ache in her throat. “You’re out there alone, with those dangerous people and no one you can trust. And I’m spending my work shifts chasing off Dementors and the rest of my time trying to spy on Death Eaters. We’re both cold, and exhausted, and lonely, all the time.”
She saw from the way his lips tightened that her words had hit home.
“I know we can’t be together. I know I’ll hardly ever see you while you’re on this mission.”
She took a step closer to him, holding his gaze, and he didn’t back away.
“But we would be so much stronger, both of us, if we had our-” her voice cracked-“our love to depend on. To carry in our hearts through the dark times.”
He shook his head, and his face was about as closed as she’d ever seen it. “The last thing you need is a relationship with an impoverished old werewolf as one more millstone around your neck.”
Oh, how she wanted to shake him. But she kept her fists at her sides.
“I don’t care,” she shouted instead. He flinched. Good. “We’ve been over this before. It doesn’t matter one whit if you’re older than me. And I’m not looking for someone rich-I love my job, and it pays enough.”
“I’m still a werewolf,” he said, woodenly. “No amount of optimism on your part can conjure up anything to say about that.”
She stepped toward him again, and leaned forward, staring him down. “It’s not optimism, Remus. It’s realism. I’m an Auror, for Merlin’s sake. I know how to take care of myself.”
He shook his head and stepped back, staring past her, eyes hooded and mouth tight. Tonks made to run her fingers through her hair out of sheer frustration, and she dislodged the red scarf she’d forgotten she was wearing. She swore, grabbing for it, but the wind tore it away. By the time she had drawn her wand to Summon it back, Remus had snatched it out of the air. He held it, running it through his fingers until the silk snagged on his calloused skin and he sighed, stilling the restless motion.
He held the scarf out, and she took it, stuffing it unceremoniously into the pocket of her jeans.
The waves rolled and crashed in a rhythm that was violent and soothing at the same time. Tonks rather thought she understood why Remus needed this place.
“I didn’t mean to fight with you on Christmas,” she said, quietly. “I just wanted to see you today. I’ve missed you, too.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m glad you found me.”
Deliberately, she reached over and took his hand. He stiffened, at first, but then he let his fingers curl around hers.
She was careful not to hold on too tightly.
The waves rolled on, crashing, and she saw Remus close his eyes to listen. But the light was fading now, and the wind really had turned quite cold.
“Molly promised pies for supper,” she said. “Shall we go and find some?”
“That sounds like a fine plan,” said Remus. “The kitchen smelled wonderful all afternoon.”
And then he smiled, one more true smile, and his hand squeezed hers. Tonks caught her breath. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, but it would do for Christmas night.
“There’s one condition, though,” he warned.
Tonks looked up, frowning until she spotted the familiar-and dearly missed-gleam in his eye.
“Of course.” Her frown vanished in a grin of anticipation. “What is it?”
“I’ll need your help.” The mischief in his smile, with his fingers still wrapped around hers, was better than a hundred Warming Charms. “I owe the twins a Christmas prank, you see.”
. * fin * .