Snidgets (4/4)
Title: Snidgets
Author: MrsTater
Rating: PG-13
Prompts: Magical - Snidget; Character - Mundungus Fletcher; Action - Fancy; Genre - Mystery/Suspense, Romance
Word Count: 23,419
Summary: When third year Auror cadet Tonks is assigned a special case, it takes her back to school and into the Defence Against the Dark Arts office -- where the new professor presents her with a few mysteries of his own.
Author's Notes: This is what happens when you decide to write three things off your R/T To-Do List (a mystery, a proper first meeting fic, and a Prisoner of Azkaban-era piece) all in one fic. My apologies for posting this in four parts, but the LJ character limit wouldn't let me divide it any way that would leave scenes in tact...Special thanks to Bratty_Jedi for suggesting a name for an un-named canon character. And there aren't words to express how much I appreciate the cheerleading and beta efforts of Godricgal.
Continued from Part Three.
4. Cases Closed
Tonks sat in the Auror Training Room, where she and Kinglsey had remained for the past half an hour following the class to which she'd been almost twenty minutes late. She'd endured a lecture about her tardiness, which had been increased by a stop to morph her own face back, which Kingsley had been sure to let her know was ill-advised. After that, he'd moved on to pick apart, point-by-point her interview at the Hog's Head. All the time he paced the platform at the front of the room, hands clasped behind his back,
Apart from answering his questions, Tonks said nothing. Ordinarily, she'd have defended herself, but now she felt numb, incapably only of staring blearily at him through burning eyes.
Her behaviour didn't go unnoticed. "Tonks," Kingsley said firmly, stepping off the platform to stand over her desk, pinning her with eyes that were dark and intense beneath his heavy brow. "I've just said your Fletcher Is The Snidgetnapper theory's not a sure bet. Shouldn't you be saying, Like hell it's not?"
Shrugging, she picked at the too-short sleeve of her hag robe, which she hadn't transfigured back to her own clothing, and was beginning to chafe the sensitive skin above her wrist. "Because it's not," she whispered.
"Eh?"
Though her throat constricted painfully as a large knot lodged there, Tonks forced herself to speak louder. "Just what you said. Clues might fit a crime, but it doesn't mean they're actually clues. Re--Lupin could just as conceivably fit."
Kingsley arched his brows in an expression that almost looked like scepticism, though it couldn't be, not after he'd just torn her investigation to shreds. "Do you really believe that?"
Tonks' gaze dropped to her bony morphed ankles, accentuated by the ragged woollen stockings, the clunky men's work boots that gaped, untied, and baggy robes that stopped too far up her calves.
Look at yourself, Tonks, half-disguised and getting lectured after class. Some things never change. You're still just a schoolgirl who lacks the ability to behave herself.
"Tonks?"
"Yes," she gritted out between clenched teeth the answer to his previous question.
"Look at me, Tonks."
She did, and saw Kingsley's eyebrows arch. "Do you believe that?"
Dragging her fingers through her hair, she said, "I just told you--"
"A few minutes before that you were convinced only Fletcher fit the bill."
"You made me see other options."
"Did I?"
It was the moment where, at any previous encounter like this, Tonks' eyes would have locked with Kingsley's and she'd have sat up straight in her chair, chin jutted in defiance as she stood, immovably, by her own ideas. Not this time. Every ounce of energy and passion sapped by her row with Remus, Tonks couldn't even bring herself to meet Kingsley's stare properly, because her eyes kept blinking against the prick of tears.
As Kingsley studied her, the frustration etched on his powerful features gradually faded, leaving only a brow furrowed with confusion as his brown eyes softened in concern.
"Have you given up, Tonks?"
She looked down as she let out a shuddering breath. "Shouldn't I? Obviously I'm crap at investigation. Anyway it's interfering with my training."
Kingsley sighed heavily and ran a hand over his stubbly cheek. "You were only late tonight."
"I cut last night."
"I gave you permission to cut," Kingsley said, an edge creeping back into his deep tones even as he lowered himself to sit on the top of the desk beside hers, in the position of colleague rather than superior. "Why would you say that about your investigation skills? You've always had top marks, and even though I picked apart your theories just now, I didn't mean they were necessarily wrong. You know me, Tonks. You know how I drill."
She nodded, but still didn't look at him. "I just think..." Her lips felt parched, so she tried to moisten them with her tongue. But her tongue was dry, too. Swallowing didn't help, either. She croaked, "I ought to stop, and get back to normal cadet stuff. I'm no better than any of the others, but it looks like I think I am."
For a moment the room was heavy with silence, then Kingsley said, "I see. This is about what other people think. Have any of the other cadets said anything?"
"Not to me."
"Have you overheard anything?"
Tonks shook her head.
"Then this isn't about the other cadets. Who are you worried about thinking poorly--?"
Kingsley stopped so suddenly that Tonks reflexively looked up at him. Her stomach plummeted at the sight of his features lighting up with dawning realisation. She tore her eyes from his and slid out of her seat.
Trudging across the room, she stood with her back to him, hands balled into fists at her sides, bracing herself for the lecture she'd so wanted to avoid, about how the line between personal and professional had got so blurred.
"This...is about Lupin thinking poorly of you," said Kingsley, the pitch of his voice rising questioningly. "But why...?"
"You know what you said about him being as likely as Fletcher?"
"That was just an example. I didn't actually mean I thought Lupin--" He stopped short again. "Oh, Tonks, you didn't..."
"Yeah. I did actually. In fact I actually accused him."
"Of stealing the Snidgets?"
Though she wasn't looking at him, Tonks pictured Kingsley's eyes rounding in disbelief. Bowing her head, she raised a hand to rub cradle her forehead. "Of being part of some great underground magical creature trade."
Of all the reactions she'd imagined Kingsley might have, laughter -- of any sort, much less a rippling chuckle that rumbled richly through the classroom -- had not been among them.
Astonished, and at the end of her tether, Tonks whirled unsteadily to face him, grabbing at the blackboard's chalk rail to keep her balance, and shouted, "It's not funny!"
"It is, quite," puffed Kingsley, shoulders shaking. "Though you were supposed to be the one with the sense of humour."
"I am," Tonks ground out through gritted teeth. "And no. It's not."
Pulling himself together, Kingsley's long strides carried him across the room to her. Tonks flinched as he moved to put a hand on her shoulder, but she relaxed under the comforting weight of it when she saw that his gaze contained neither condescension nor criticism.
"I'm sorry I laughed," he said. "But you're too hard on yourself, Tonks. You're bound to make mistakes, you know. You're young."
Nodding, she tried to give him a little smile of thanks, but was pretty sure she failed as miserably at that as she had failed with Remus. With a heavy sigh, she shrugged from Kingsley's touch and walked way from him again, wrapping her arms around herself. "But not too young to hurt a man."
"You probably offended him a bit, yeah," said Kingsley, "but that's not quite the same thing as hurt."
"I know hurt when I see it, Kingsley." Her voice broke. "Remus definitely was."
"Remus," Kingsley repeated. She heard the faint scratch of his stubble against his palm as he rubbed his face again. "Do you...fancy him?"
Her chin dropped onto her chest as a few blue curls fell over her forehead.
"Bugger," he muttered. "Tonks, if my joke put that idea into your head--"
"You didn't. He did." She couldn't stop herself smiling slightly. "He is quite fanciable. You said yourself, there were always at least a dozen girls that did."
"That may be," Kingsley said, coming back into possession of his usual commanding tone, "but you do realise, don't you, that this can't be a precedent? Over the course of your career, you'll encounter a lot of fanciable people, but you simply can't give into it--"
"It won't be a problem." Considering how low her overall confidence level was at the moment, Tonks surprised herself with the assertiveness of the statement. For the first time since she'd got back to the Ministry, Tonks held her shoulders erect and met Kingsley's eye steadily. "I wouldn't have got interested at all if Remus hadn't fancied me first."
Kingsley gave an indulgent half-grin.
"What's that?" Tonks' arms crossed. "Think I'm too young to be fancied?"
Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Will you sue me for sexual harassment if I say you're twenty and hot, and I'd have to make certain assumptions about any bloke who didn't flirt with you?"
"And will you sue me if I ask if that's you confessing you're gay?"
Hands flying to his hips, Kingsley tried to glower, but laughed. "And you're a right comedienne, as well."
"I really need to drop this Auror thing and get a different career."
Grin falling, Kingsley stepped toward her. "I'm serious, Tonks. Being that you're twenty and attractive in every sense, don't you think you'll encounter this again?"
Tonks jutted her chin and gave her head a defiant little toss.
You're coming back into your own again, Tonks. Don't give up.
"No. I don't."
Kingsley arched his eyebrow, but Tonks, for once, defied his request for a further explanation. There was no way to make another person understand that what she'd felt with Remus was a connection which, in her experience, was a rare thing. Practically nonexistent.
"It won't be a problem," she repeated. "I don't need a sodding boyfriend. I just need to find these bloody Snidgets."
"And I need to find Sirius Sodding Black," said Kingsley, "but that's not the only thing I need."
Knowing exactly where this was headed, Tonks said, "Kingsley, please don't lecture me about my social life."
"You were tardy to my class, Tonks. It's my prerogative to lecture you about anything I think relates to that."
He launched into the rant she'd heard a million times, about how, as an Auror, it was important to be a well-rounded individual, and to look after relationships beyond the squad. Precisely because of situations such as this, where the relationship between investigators and subjects were often entrenched with emotion. This had been a wake-up call to him, as well, that he needed to pay more attention to his personal life--
Not for the first time since she'd started the Auror training programme, Tonks blessed the purple paper aeroplane memo that zoomed into the classroom at exactly the right moment, interrupting Kingsley.
Kingsley caught it, but it was her name that was scrawled on the wing flap.
She opened it as he taunted her about the suspicious timing and whether she had charms that sent memos when she didn't want to hear his lectures, and read the department secretary's writing: Floo call from Professor R.J. Lupin. Tonks' first hunch correct. Hogwarts, ASAP.
First hunch?
Hagrid?
He had the Snidgets, after all?
She didn't want to believe that Remus had known all along, but unless she'd pricked his conscious, why would he tell her now, after--?
Doesn't matter. Time to work.
"Kingsley!" She grabbed his arm. "You've got to go to Hogwarts now."
"Why?"
"Rubeus Hagrid's got the Snidgets, and I'm not qualified to arrest."
"Right." Immediately, Kingsley was racing from the classroom. In the corridor, he threw back over his shoulder. "Well -- aren't you coming along?"
"I--"
"I may be the arresting Auror, but I won't take credit for solving your case."
A very huge, very un-Aurorly, smile broke across her face as she followed him, and she didn't care. Not at all.
In the Emergency Portkey Room, Tonks immediately reached for the first edition copy of Hogwarts, A History that would take them to the school -- but Kingsley caught her arm.
"One more thing."
She held her breath, waiting for him to tell her not to let Remus be a distraction.
"Transfigure your own clothes back. You don't want to be dressed like a hag when the Prophet reporters come to photograph the hot, funny, twenty-year-old Auror cadet who saved Great Britain's Snidget population from extinction."
Accustomed as Tonks was to her body being stretched and pulled and pressed into all sorts of unfamiliar shapes, the strange sensations described by most people who travelled by Portkey had never phased her. Thus her surprise when this one deposited her outside the front gates of Hogwarts, and she felt a sharp tug at her navel, followed by a buckling sensation in every organ in her stomach region. She started to ask Kingsley if that was what it always felt like, when her brain registered, with a jolt, that the way she felt had nothing to do with the Portkey...
...and everything to do with Remus standing on the other gate, blue fire in hand.
Exactly like the first time you laid eyes on him.
He was looking at her, as if he'd known the precise spot in the grass where she would appear, and his gaze never wavered from her as he swiftly unlocked the gate, not even when Kingsley greeted him with a genial, "Long time no see, mate."
Behind her, lightning flashed, reflected in Remus' eyes.
Her own heart pounded as she was struck with a torrent of feelings: from wishing he was looking at her with tenderness, to acknowledging that at best it could be described as an intense look. At least it didn't seem to be an overly negative intensity...
Mind on the job, Tonks. You still don't know where he stands on this. If he covered for Hagrid, even under Dumbledore's orders, he's still guilty, an accessory to the crime.
She strode ahead of the men, toward Hagrid's cabin, and called back over her shoulder to Remus. "How long have you known the Snidgets were here?"
Before she turned to watch where she was walking, she glimpsed confusion flicker in a furrowed brow. "A quarter of an hour, perhaps? Maybe ten minutes? Hagrid sent me an SOS that Dung had turned up, and he was in danger of getting himself in even greater trouble than he already is over the Hippogriff."
Tonks span so suddenly on her heel that Remus didn't have time to stop, and she tumbled into him. His hand on her upper arm steadied her; she tried not to think about his breath feeling like a caress on her forehead as she looked up at him.
"Fletcher's in the cabin?" she asked breathlessly.
Nodding, Remus replied, very quietly, "Yes."
He kept his hand on her arm, and Tonks remained rooted to the ground. In her heart, she knew that her steady gaze was a silent plea for him to show her what he was feeling so she could do her job; her mind told her it was ridiculous -- he couldn't possibly understand what she was asking.
Except that in that instant, the flame he held at her shoulder dispelled the darkness from his eyes, at once revealing a pain that stopped in her heart as the lightning shocked the sky; and deeper, a fainter light that could only be hope, because the sight of it made her pulse beat again.
Minutes...hours...days...passed in that moment. When Tonks stepped back from Remus, and she watched his hand fall from her arm to his side once again, and saw Kingsley's arm still hovering in the air as he, too, had reached to catch her, it became evident that only a split-second had elapsed since she'd collided with him.
"Have you been in the cabin?" she asked.
"That's your job," Remus answered.
They shared another brief look, then, at a nod from Kingsley, the two Aurors drew their wands and ran the rest of the way to the cabin.
Kingsley's longer strides carried him there first, but Tonks made up for height by increasing her speed and sprinting through the door as Kingsley opened it.
"Aurors, freeze!" Kingsley bellowed over the pounding of her boots on the floorboards and the rumble of thunder outside. "Hands in the air, wands down!"
Automatically, Tonks pointed her wand at the immediately visible hulking form of Hagrid, who put his hands up; but then, her brain registering that hers wasn't the only wand trained on him, she lowered it to the squat figure of Mundungus Fletcher.
Who had just waved his wand and croaked, "Imperial! You will buy the Snidgets!"
"Expelliarmus!" Tonks shouted, as Kingsley roared, "Incarcerous!"
Fletcher startled, ever-present, reeking pipe falling from his gaping mouth. His wand flew from his hand as heavy robes materialised in the air, and then shot toward him, binding his hands behind his back and his feet together at the ankles. He toppled, wriggling, to the floor, a stream of incomprehensible babble pouring from his mouth which Tonks assumed must be every swear word in the English language.
Kingsley silenced him, and as he read Fletcher his rights, Tonks caught her breath and finally had a chance to take in the scene.
Rubeus Hagrid, standing frozen in the middle of his living room, arms still raised, was indeed in possession of the stolen Snidgets.
Or rather, they seemed to be in possession of him.
His long, shaggy mane and wild beard resembled a black, hairy Christmas tree, barely visible beneath dozens of golden, bejewelled baubles. Apparently the Hogwarts groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher was the ideal nesting place for a flock of Snidgets.
"I know yer can use it against me before the Wizengamot," said Hagrid, eyes welling with great tears, "but it ain't what it looks like. Little blighters flew at me when Dung opened their cage!"
His black eyes darted sidelong, to a wicker cage stood on the table. How on earth had Dung fit all the Snidgets in there?
"You can lower your hands now, Hagrid," Tonks said, trying not to laugh. Merlin's beard -- this was the most ridiculous crime in the history of Wizarding law. Snidgets nesting in a beard...Fletcher trying to cast the Imperius Curse but saying Imperial.
Stop it, Tonks, don't you dare laugh, even if Scrimgeour would hire you for your sense of humour.
Poor Hagrid -- he must have been terrified.
Just as the actual arrest had been a bit of a blur, Tonks only had a vague impression of the aftermath. One moment she was comforting Hagrid, the next sending word to Scrimgeour that he could tell Amelia Bones the Snidget case was closed, and that they needed to transport a prisoner to Azkaban. Then cam the matter of getting the Snidgets out of Hagrid's beard and back in their cage, for which she and Kingsley were both woefully untrained. Luckily, just as they'd succeeded in pissing off the flock, as evidenced by the angry red eyes and onslaught of pecking, someone from the Sheringham Snidget Sanctuary turned up and took over that task.
From that point on, Tonks was caught in a steady flow of congratulations from people who kept turning up: MLE department heads and other Ministry officials; Dumbledore, who thanked her for her personal dedication and discipline, which had protected not only Hagrid from imprisonment, but preserved the school's reputation; someone from The Quibbler who wanted to know whether the Dementors would be leaving Hogwarts now there was no longer any need to pretend Sirius Black had escaped; Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet, who rattled off something about Sirius Black's second-cousin, whose application to the Auror department had been rejected, proved her worth by apprehending a Snidgetnapper the MLE couldn't be bothered with; and magical creatures rights activists, who wanted her to attend dinners and conferences and said that if there was anything, anything at all they could do to express their gratitude, she had only to say the word.
But the only thing Tonks could think of that they could do for her was to leave, so she could go track Remus.
And his was the only face she kept searching for in the crowd, but never did find.
It was the rain that at last drove the influx of people off the school grounds. Tonks was still stuck in Hagrid's cabin getting a crash course in the aftermath of an arrest: finalising the crime scene report with Dawlish, going over the prisoner transport preparations with Kingsley. Scrimgeour, who hadn't stopped singing the praises of his youngest cadet, which was both flattering and rather annoying, encouraged her to accompany Kingsley to Azkaban, but she begged off.
"If it's all the same to you, Sir," she said, "I've put in a lot of extra time the past two nights, and I'd really like to..." She glanced sideways at Kingsley. "...look to my social life."
He gladly granted her request, and without another glance or word to anyone, Tonks bolted from the cabin.
The rain was coming down in sheets, instantly soaking her to the skin, and making the ground soggy. She didn't let the terrain or her heavy clothes slow her down, and she pressed on up the hill to the castle even when a stitch in her side begged her to stop and catch her breath. The light shone from Remus' office window.
Inside, her shoes squeaked and slipped on the marble floors, and she knew she was leaving a watermark on the carpets. If she'd been a student, and Filch had caught her, she'd have had detention for the rest of her life; hell, if he caught her now, he'd probably try to give her detention. But still she raced through the castle, up the stairs, down the corridor, not bothering to take out her wand and dry her hair or clothes.
At last, the Defence Against the Dark Arts office door loomed before her, and she slowed...then stopped.
She didn't wait to catch her breath.
She knocked on the door.
Eternity seemed to pass between the knock and the sound of Remus' chair creaking as he stood. She almost reached for the doorknob and opened it herself.
She settled for another knock.
"Just a moment," came Remus' muffled voice.
No, she couldn't wait another moment. She grabbed the doorknob.
As she touched it, Remus' hand, on the other side, turned it.
The door swung inward, open.
There stood Remus.
Thin, pale Remus, the lines of his face deeply etched in the darkened corridor, with only the dim light from the office behind, and the lightning flashing at the windows, making him look tired.
No -- you made him look tired, Tonks.
His blue eyes, open wide in surprise, but brilliant with hope, told her she could make it right.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the tatty lapels of his robes and pulled him toward her as she arched up on her toes to meet his mouth with hers.
She kissed him hard, briefly.
His eyes stayed open. One hand hung at his side. The other still clutched the doorknob.
She pulled back. Her heart thudded, once. Heavily.
His eyes were dark. He whispered, "What was that for?"
"That was I'm sorry."
Imperceptibly, the lines smoothed from his face. She looked into his eyes and saw, so clearly, that he wanted her to kiss him again.
Her fingers clutched his robes again as she leant toward him.
His fingers curling around her upper arm gently held her back.
His breath caressed her forehead. Or was it his lips?
"I'm sorry, too."
Tonks shook her head. "Don't be. You were right."
She leant into him again, and this time he was more yielding, one hand sliding over her forearm, covering her hands, as she kissed him. Softly this time, though still briefly.
He closed his eyes.
They stayed closed, golden lashes brushing his fair skin, until Tonks whispered, "That was Thank you."
The lashes parted, and his eyes were so, so blue. "For what?"
"For my case. And for making me see I..." She hesitated then, catching herself about to say need, when she really meant, "I want something more than work in my life. Or a cat."
Even as his fingertips trailed down her arm to her elbow, then brushed her side as his palm settled on her waist, she kept glancing at the hand still grasping the doorknob. She wanted to feel both hands fitted so perfectly over her hips as he dipped his head to...
...rest his forehead against hers.
The look in his eyes was, unmistakably, longing.
But he was waiting.
For her.
At the same moment, they exhaled. They breathed in again, together.
Tonks tilted her face upward, and Remus remained perfectly still, allowing her to kiss him again. This time, her lips glided lingeringly over his, taking in their softness; she just parted them with her tongue, and tasted his sweetness.
When she tried to pull away, his hands -- both of them -- settled on her hips, holding her firmly in place.
"And what was that one -- Elphine?"
The caress of his low, rasping voice, like a tender stroke of her skin, made her eyelids briefly flutter closed. "That was, Can I solve your mysteries?"
She felt, rather than saw his smile as, his hands sliding round to her back, he pressed his cheek to hers. "Are you asking me to go out with you?"
Against his shoulder -- more solid than she had believed just by looking at his thin frame -- she nodded. "Yes."
His lips brushed her ear.
She held her breath, so as not to miss his rasping...
"No."
She blinked.
And exhaled.
No.
She pulled her head back from his shoulder. He couldn't have said no. Not after--
Yes, after. After she'd hurt him.
Eyes down, releasing his robes, rumpled from her fingers twisting the fabric, she whispered, "I understand."
But when she tried to pull away, his hands at her back held her against him. "I haven't finished."
Her head snapped up, mouth open to ask him what he meant, why he was doing this. She had been cruel, but this was crueller. He--
--was pulling her through the door, and pushing it to, in one swift motion, like a dance step. Then he was pressing her back against it, pressing himself against her, covering her mouth with his.
Breath hot.
Lips firm -- yet also soft.
Careful, but thorough, as well.
Tender, and yet leaving her in no doubt of his strength as she realised that it was his arm around her waist, and not her desperate clinging to his robes, that was even keeping her upright now.
Teeth, raking lightly over her bottom lip.
Tongue, tracing the inside edge of the upper.
Lips, opening and closing over hers.
Fingertips tracing her cheekbone.
Remus.
As his mouth left hers, she opened her eyes to his twinkling ones looking into them.
"I was asking you to go out with me," he said huskily. "Someplace nice. You know. Because I've made a success of the magical creature black market."
He was teasing. Teasing about her ridiculous accusation. She'd hurt him, but he could laugh about it.
He's forgiven you.
She laughed, and burrowed her face in his robes. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
His chest rumbled against her, soothingly, as he continued to chuckle, bending to kiss her hair, which he was running his fingers through. "Highly unlikely. Does that surprise you?"
"Not really."
"Nor," he said, sliding one of his lovely hands under her chin, to tilt her face up to his, "am I going to neglect to tease you about this being the sort of night a person really ought to wear a Mackintosh and Wellington boots."
"Oh, Merlin!" Face aflame, Tonks pushed him away and looked down at the floor. "I've tracked mud your floor all over your rug!"
"Yes, I definitely want to take you out, seeing as you've got your priorities straight. Muddy rug -- always a greater concern than sopping clothes."
Face hotter, she looked up again, and saw how drenched the front of his robes were. Even his face shimmered from where he'd leant against her wet hair.
"Really, it's very considerate," said Remus, whipping out his wand, twirling it over his knuckles. "Drying Charms are much simpler than carpet cleaning spells."
He dried them both off, then slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, resting his check against her blue curls. "Ah, much better. It's a date, then?"
"Does that mean I've got to tell you my name?"
"I already know it...Nymphadora."
She looked up at him, mouth agape.
"You really shouldn't have thanked me for helping with your case," he said. "My motive was entirely selfish -- I had to solve mine."
"How--?"
"Accio Evening Prophet."
Releasing her with one arm, he caught the evening paper, and unfurled it to reveal the front page covered with a photograph of her cupping one of the golden Snidgets in her hands, handing it over to the warden of the Sheringham Sanctuary. Above it, in bold capitals, was printed: AUROR CADET NYMPHADORA TONKS CRACKS SNIDGET CASE THAT BAFFLED TOP MLE OFFICIALS.
"Does reading the paper count as solving a mystery?"
"Does having Dung stand up in the Hog's Head and all but shout his guilt?"
"You bet it does!" Tonks elbowed him in the ribs, but laughed as she re-read the newspaper headline. "Bit of an exaggeration, that. Especially considering how cracked some of my theories were."
Chuckling, Remus leant in to kiss the tip of her nose. "My theories, on the other hand--"
"Blimey -- have you got the Second Sight?" Tonks interrupted. "You could've knocked me over with a quill after you said Elphine."
There was just a touch of smugness in his grin. "I knew I was on to something when I couldn't stop thinking that you had an elfin quality about you. Nymph did occur to me--"
"Like hell it did!"
''--except that I couldn't think of any names that incorporated it."
"That's because there's only one, which my mum made up, and it's bloody awful."
"It's lovely," he said, surprising her a little with the assertiveness of his tone, and he squeezed her middle. "But if you prefer, I'll still call you Elphine."
"I do prefer," Tonks replied. Not just because she hated her name, but because she loved having a name -- not a clichéd pet name or endearment, but a real name -- only he called her.
"Of course I do reserve the right to use Nymphadora should the occasion arise to tease you."
"But you tease all the time!"
Remus waggled his eyebrows. "I daresay you'll find plenty to tease me about."
"I prefer this sort of teasing," Tonks said, tilting her face up to brush her lips to his -- just barely -- and then pulling away.
He feigned a sulk. "No fair."
"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," she said, stretching up to kiss the corner of his mouth, "and you won't have to worry about that."
He'd just captured her mouth for a proper kiss, when a crash of thunder that rattled the windowpanes made them jump and bump noses.
"It was a dark and stormy night," said Remus, wrapping his arm more securely around her, tucking her head under his chin, "and two mysteries were solved."
Tonks looked up at him. "But not case closed?"
"No," he said, letting the Evening Prophet fall to the floor so he could occupy his hands with other things. "Our file's only just been opened."
The End
Author: MrsTater
Rating: PG-13
Prompts: Magical - Snidget; Character - Mundungus Fletcher; Action - Fancy; Genre - Mystery/Suspense, Romance
Word Count: 23,419
Summary: When third year Auror cadet Tonks is assigned a special case, it takes her back to school and into the Defence Against the Dark Arts office -- where the new professor presents her with a few mysteries of his own.
Author's Notes: This is what happens when you decide to write three things off your R/T To-Do List (a mystery, a proper first meeting fic, and a Prisoner of Azkaban-era piece) all in one fic. My apologies for posting this in four parts, but the LJ character limit wouldn't let me divide it any way that would leave scenes in tact...Special thanks to Bratty_Jedi for suggesting a name for an un-named canon character. And there aren't words to express how much I appreciate the cheerleading and beta efforts of Godricgal.
Continued from Part Three.
4. Cases Closed
Tonks sat in the Auror Training Room, where she and Kinglsey had remained for the past half an hour following the class to which she'd been almost twenty minutes late. She'd endured a lecture about her tardiness, which had been increased by a stop to morph her own face back, which Kingsley had been sure to let her know was ill-advised. After that, he'd moved on to pick apart, point-by-point her interview at the Hog's Head. All the time he paced the platform at the front of the room, hands clasped behind his back,
Apart from answering his questions, Tonks said nothing. Ordinarily, she'd have defended herself, but now she felt numb, incapably only of staring blearily at him through burning eyes.
Her behaviour didn't go unnoticed. "Tonks," Kingsley said firmly, stepping off the platform to stand over her desk, pinning her with eyes that were dark and intense beneath his heavy brow. "I've just said your Fletcher Is The Snidgetnapper theory's not a sure bet. Shouldn't you be saying, Like hell it's not?"
Shrugging, she picked at the too-short sleeve of her hag robe, which she hadn't transfigured back to her own clothing, and was beginning to chafe the sensitive skin above her wrist. "Because it's not," she whispered.
"Eh?"
Though her throat constricted painfully as a large knot lodged there, Tonks forced herself to speak louder. "Just what you said. Clues might fit a crime, but it doesn't mean they're actually clues. Re--Lupin could just as conceivably fit."
Kingsley arched his brows in an expression that almost looked like scepticism, though it couldn't be, not after he'd just torn her investigation to shreds. "Do you really believe that?"
Tonks' gaze dropped to her bony morphed ankles, accentuated by the ragged woollen stockings, the clunky men's work boots that gaped, untied, and baggy robes that stopped too far up her calves.
Look at yourself, Tonks, half-disguised and getting lectured after class. Some things never change. You're still just a schoolgirl who lacks the ability to behave herself.
"Tonks?"
"Yes," she gritted out between clenched teeth the answer to his previous question.
"Look at me, Tonks."
She did, and saw Kingsley's eyebrows arch. "Do you believe that?"
Dragging her fingers through her hair, she said, "I just told you--"
"A few minutes before that you were convinced only Fletcher fit the bill."
"You made me see other options."
"Did I?"
It was the moment where, at any previous encounter like this, Tonks' eyes would have locked with Kingsley's and she'd have sat up straight in her chair, chin jutted in defiance as she stood, immovably, by her own ideas. Not this time. Every ounce of energy and passion sapped by her row with Remus, Tonks couldn't even bring herself to meet Kingsley's stare properly, because her eyes kept blinking against the prick of tears.
As Kingsley studied her, the frustration etched on his powerful features gradually faded, leaving only a brow furrowed with confusion as his brown eyes softened in concern.
"Have you given up, Tonks?"
She looked down as she let out a shuddering breath. "Shouldn't I? Obviously I'm crap at investigation. Anyway it's interfering with my training."
Kingsley sighed heavily and ran a hand over his stubbly cheek. "You were only late tonight."
"I cut last night."
"I gave you permission to cut," Kingsley said, an edge creeping back into his deep tones even as he lowered himself to sit on the top of the desk beside hers, in the position of colleague rather than superior. "Why would you say that about your investigation skills? You've always had top marks, and even though I picked apart your theories just now, I didn't mean they were necessarily wrong. You know me, Tonks. You know how I drill."
She nodded, but still didn't look at him. "I just think..." Her lips felt parched, so she tried to moisten them with her tongue. But her tongue was dry, too. Swallowing didn't help, either. She croaked, "I ought to stop, and get back to normal cadet stuff. I'm no better than any of the others, but it looks like I think I am."
For a moment the room was heavy with silence, then Kingsley said, "I see. This is about what other people think. Have any of the other cadets said anything?"
"Not to me."
"Have you overheard anything?"
Tonks shook her head.
"Then this isn't about the other cadets. Who are you worried about thinking poorly--?"
Kingsley stopped so suddenly that Tonks reflexively looked up at him. Her stomach plummeted at the sight of his features lighting up with dawning realisation. She tore her eyes from his and slid out of her seat.
Trudging across the room, she stood with her back to him, hands balled into fists at her sides, bracing herself for the lecture she'd so wanted to avoid, about how the line between personal and professional had got so blurred.
"This...is about Lupin thinking poorly of you," said Kingsley, the pitch of his voice rising questioningly. "But why...?"
"You know what you said about him being as likely as Fletcher?"
"That was just an example. I didn't actually mean I thought Lupin--" He stopped short again. "Oh, Tonks, you didn't..."
"Yeah. I did actually. In fact I actually accused him."
"Of stealing the Snidgets?"
Though she wasn't looking at him, Tonks pictured Kingsley's eyes rounding in disbelief. Bowing her head, she raised a hand to rub cradle her forehead. "Of being part of some great underground magical creature trade."
Of all the reactions she'd imagined Kingsley might have, laughter -- of any sort, much less a rippling chuckle that rumbled richly through the classroom -- had not been among them.
Astonished, and at the end of her tether, Tonks whirled unsteadily to face him, grabbing at the blackboard's chalk rail to keep her balance, and shouted, "It's not funny!"
"It is, quite," puffed Kingsley, shoulders shaking. "Though you were supposed to be the one with the sense of humour."
"I am," Tonks ground out through gritted teeth. "And no. It's not."
Pulling himself together, Kingsley's long strides carried him across the room to her. Tonks flinched as he moved to put a hand on her shoulder, but she relaxed under the comforting weight of it when she saw that his gaze contained neither condescension nor criticism.
"I'm sorry I laughed," he said. "But you're too hard on yourself, Tonks. You're bound to make mistakes, you know. You're young."
Nodding, she tried to give him a little smile of thanks, but was pretty sure she failed as miserably at that as she had failed with Remus. With a heavy sigh, she shrugged from Kingsley's touch and walked way from him again, wrapping her arms around herself. "But not too young to hurt a man."
"You probably offended him a bit, yeah," said Kingsley, "but that's not quite the same thing as hurt."
"I know hurt when I see it, Kingsley." Her voice broke. "Remus definitely was."
"Remus," Kingsley repeated. She heard the faint scratch of his stubble against his palm as he rubbed his face again. "Do you...fancy him?"
Her chin dropped onto her chest as a few blue curls fell over her forehead.
"Bugger," he muttered. "Tonks, if my joke put that idea into your head--"
"You didn't. He did." She couldn't stop herself smiling slightly. "He is quite fanciable. You said yourself, there were always at least a dozen girls that did."
"That may be," Kingsley said, coming back into possession of his usual commanding tone, "but you do realise, don't you, that this can't be a precedent? Over the course of your career, you'll encounter a lot of fanciable people, but you simply can't give into it--"
"It won't be a problem." Considering how low her overall confidence level was at the moment, Tonks surprised herself with the assertiveness of the statement. For the first time since she'd got back to the Ministry, Tonks held her shoulders erect and met Kingsley's eye steadily. "I wouldn't have got interested at all if Remus hadn't fancied me first."
Kingsley gave an indulgent half-grin.
"What's that?" Tonks' arms crossed. "Think I'm too young to be fancied?"
Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Will you sue me for sexual harassment if I say you're twenty and hot, and I'd have to make certain assumptions about any bloke who didn't flirt with you?"
"And will you sue me if I ask if that's you confessing you're gay?"
Hands flying to his hips, Kingsley tried to glower, but laughed. "And you're a right comedienne, as well."
"I really need to drop this Auror thing and get a different career."
Grin falling, Kingsley stepped toward her. "I'm serious, Tonks. Being that you're twenty and attractive in every sense, don't you think you'll encounter this again?"
Tonks jutted her chin and gave her head a defiant little toss.
You're coming back into your own again, Tonks. Don't give up.
"No. I don't."
Kingsley arched his eyebrow, but Tonks, for once, defied his request for a further explanation. There was no way to make another person understand that what she'd felt with Remus was a connection which, in her experience, was a rare thing. Practically nonexistent.
"It won't be a problem," she repeated. "I don't need a sodding boyfriend. I just need to find these bloody Snidgets."
"And I need to find Sirius Sodding Black," said Kingsley, "but that's not the only thing I need."
Knowing exactly where this was headed, Tonks said, "Kingsley, please don't lecture me about my social life."
"You were tardy to my class, Tonks. It's my prerogative to lecture you about anything I think relates to that."
He launched into the rant she'd heard a million times, about how, as an Auror, it was important to be a well-rounded individual, and to look after relationships beyond the squad. Precisely because of situations such as this, where the relationship between investigators and subjects were often entrenched with emotion. This had been a wake-up call to him, as well, that he needed to pay more attention to his personal life--
Not for the first time since she'd started the Auror training programme, Tonks blessed the purple paper aeroplane memo that zoomed into the classroom at exactly the right moment, interrupting Kingsley.
Kingsley caught it, but it was her name that was scrawled on the wing flap.
She opened it as he taunted her about the suspicious timing and whether she had charms that sent memos when she didn't want to hear his lectures, and read the department secretary's writing: Floo call from Professor R.J. Lupin. Tonks' first hunch correct. Hogwarts, ASAP.
First hunch?
Hagrid?
He had the Snidgets, after all?
She didn't want to believe that Remus had known all along, but unless she'd pricked his conscious, why would he tell her now, after--?
Doesn't matter. Time to work.
"Kingsley!" She grabbed his arm. "You've got to go to Hogwarts now."
"Why?"
"Rubeus Hagrid's got the Snidgets, and I'm not qualified to arrest."
"Right." Immediately, Kingsley was racing from the classroom. In the corridor, he threw back over his shoulder. "Well -- aren't you coming along?"
"I--"
"I may be the arresting Auror, but I won't take credit for solving your case."
A very huge, very un-Aurorly, smile broke across her face as she followed him, and she didn't care. Not at all.
In the Emergency Portkey Room, Tonks immediately reached for the first edition copy of Hogwarts, A History that would take them to the school -- but Kingsley caught her arm.
"One more thing."
She held her breath, waiting for him to tell her not to let Remus be a distraction.
"Transfigure your own clothes back. You don't want to be dressed like a hag when the Prophet reporters come to photograph the hot, funny, twenty-year-old Auror cadet who saved Great Britain's Snidget population from extinction."
Accustomed as Tonks was to her body being stretched and pulled and pressed into all sorts of unfamiliar shapes, the strange sensations described by most people who travelled by Portkey had never phased her. Thus her surprise when this one deposited her outside the front gates of Hogwarts, and she felt a sharp tug at her navel, followed by a buckling sensation in every organ in her stomach region. She started to ask Kingsley if that was what it always felt like, when her brain registered, with a jolt, that the way she felt had nothing to do with the Portkey...
...and everything to do with Remus standing on the other gate, blue fire in hand.
Exactly like the first time you laid eyes on him.
He was looking at her, as if he'd known the precise spot in the grass where she would appear, and his gaze never wavered from her as he swiftly unlocked the gate, not even when Kingsley greeted him with a genial, "Long time no see, mate."
Behind her, lightning flashed, reflected in Remus' eyes.
Her own heart pounded as she was struck with a torrent of feelings: from wishing he was looking at her with tenderness, to acknowledging that at best it could be described as an intense look. At least it didn't seem to be an overly negative intensity...
Mind on the job, Tonks. You still don't know where he stands on this. If he covered for Hagrid, even under Dumbledore's orders, he's still guilty, an accessory to the crime.
She strode ahead of the men, toward Hagrid's cabin, and called back over her shoulder to Remus. "How long have you known the Snidgets were here?"
Before she turned to watch where she was walking, she glimpsed confusion flicker in a furrowed brow. "A quarter of an hour, perhaps? Maybe ten minutes? Hagrid sent me an SOS that Dung had turned up, and he was in danger of getting himself in even greater trouble than he already is over the Hippogriff."
Tonks span so suddenly on her heel that Remus didn't have time to stop, and she tumbled into him. His hand on her upper arm steadied her; she tried not to think about his breath feeling like a caress on her forehead as she looked up at him.
"Fletcher's in the cabin?" she asked breathlessly.
Nodding, Remus replied, very quietly, "Yes."
He kept his hand on her arm, and Tonks remained rooted to the ground. In her heart, she knew that her steady gaze was a silent plea for him to show her what he was feeling so she could do her job; her mind told her it was ridiculous -- he couldn't possibly understand what she was asking.
Except that in that instant, the flame he held at her shoulder dispelled the darkness from his eyes, at once revealing a pain that stopped in her heart as the lightning shocked the sky; and deeper, a fainter light that could only be hope, because the sight of it made her pulse beat again.
Minutes...hours...days...passed in that moment. When Tonks stepped back from Remus, and she watched his hand fall from her arm to his side once again, and saw Kingsley's arm still hovering in the air as he, too, had reached to catch her, it became evident that only a split-second had elapsed since she'd collided with him.
"Have you been in the cabin?" she asked.
"That's your job," Remus answered.
They shared another brief look, then, at a nod from Kingsley, the two Aurors drew their wands and ran the rest of the way to the cabin.
Kingsley's longer strides carried him there first, but Tonks made up for height by increasing her speed and sprinting through the door as Kingsley opened it.
"Aurors, freeze!" Kingsley bellowed over the pounding of her boots on the floorboards and the rumble of thunder outside. "Hands in the air, wands down!"
Automatically, Tonks pointed her wand at the immediately visible hulking form of Hagrid, who put his hands up; but then, her brain registering that hers wasn't the only wand trained on him, she lowered it to the squat figure of Mundungus Fletcher.
Who had just waved his wand and croaked, "Imperial! You will buy the Snidgets!"
"Expelliarmus!" Tonks shouted, as Kingsley roared, "Incarcerous!"
Fletcher startled, ever-present, reeking pipe falling from his gaping mouth. His wand flew from his hand as heavy robes materialised in the air, and then shot toward him, binding his hands behind his back and his feet together at the ankles. He toppled, wriggling, to the floor, a stream of incomprehensible babble pouring from his mouth which Tonks assumed must be every swear word in the English language.
Kingsley silenced him, and as he read Fletcher his rights, Tonks caught her breath and finally had a chance to take in the scene.
Rubeus Hagrid, standing frozen in the middle of his living room, arms still raised, was indeed in possession of the stolen Snidgets.
Or rather, they seemed to be in possession of him.
His long, shaggy mane and wild beard resembled a black, hairy Christmas tree, barely visible beneath dozens of golden, bejewelled baubles. Apparently the Hogwarts groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher was the ideal nesting place for a flock of Snidgets.
"I know yer can use it against me before the Wizengamot," said Hagrid, eyes welling with great tears, "but it ain't what it looks like. Little blighters flew at me when Dung opened their cage!"
His black eyes darted sidelong, to a wicker cage stood on the table. How on earth had Dung fit all the Snidgets in there?
"You can lower your hands now, Hagrid," Tonks said, trying not to laugh. Merlin's beard -- this was the most ridiculous crime in the history of Wizarding law. Snidgets nesting in a beard...Fletcher trying to cast the Imperius Curse but saying Imperial.
Stop it, Tonks, don't you dare laugh, even if Scrimgeour would hire you for your sense of humour.
Poor Hagrid -- he must have been terrified.
Just as the actual arrest had been a bit of a blur, Tonks only had a vague impression of the aftermath. One moment she was comforting Hagrid, the next sending word to Scrimgeour that he could tell Amelia Bones the Snidget case was closed, and that they needed to transport a prisoner to Azkaban. Then cam the matter of getting the Snidgets out of Hagrid's beard and back in their cage, for which she and Kingsley were both woefully untrained. Luckily, just as they'd succeeded in pissing off the flock, as evidenced by the angry red eyes and onslaught of pecking, someone from the Sheringham Snidget Sanctuary turned up and took over that task.
From that point on, Tonks was caught in a steady flow of congratulations from people who kept turning up: MLE department heads and other Ministry officials; Dumbledore, who thanked her for her personal dedication and discipline, which had protected not only Hagrid from imprisonment, but preserved the school's reputation; someone from The Quibbler who wanted to know whether the Dementors would be leaving Hogwarts now there was no longer any need to pretend Sirius Black had escaped; Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet, who rattled off something about Sirius Black's second-cousin, whose application to the Auror department had been rejected, proved her worth by apprehending a Snidgetnapper the MLE couldn't be bothered with; and magical creatures rights activists, who wanted her to attend dinners and conferences and said that if there was anything, anything at all they could do to express their gratitude, she had only to say the word.
But the only thing Tonks could think of that they could do for her was to leave, so she could go track Remus.
And his was the only face she kept searching for in the crowd, but never did find.
It was the rain that at last drove the influx of people off the school grounds. Tonks was still stuck in Hagrid's cabin getting a crash course in the aftermath of an arrest: finalising the crime scene report with Dawlish, going over the prisoner transport preparations with Kingsley. Scrimgeour, who hadn't stopped singing the praises of his youngest cadet, which was both flattering and rather annoying, encouraged her to accompany Kingsley to Azkaban, but she begged off.
"If it's all the same to you, Sir," she said, "I've put in a lot of extra time the past two nights, and I'd really like to..." She glanced sideways at Kingsley. "...look to my social life."
He gladly granted her request, and without another glance or word to anyone, Tonks bolted from the cabin.
The rain was coming down in sheets, instantly soaking her to the skin, and making the ground soggy. She didn't let the terrain or her heavy clothes slow her down, and she pressed on up the hill to the castle even when a stitch in her side begged her to stop and catch her breath. The light shone from Remus' office window.
Inside, her shoes squeaked and slipped on the marble floors, and she knew she was leaving a watermark on the carpets. If she'd been a student, and Filch had caught her, she'd have had detention for the rest of her life; hell, if he caught her now, he'd probably try to give her detention. But still she raced through the castle, up the stairs, down the corridor, not bothering to take out her wand and dry her hair or clothes.
At last, the Defence Against the Dark Arts office door loomed before her, and she slowed...then stopped.
She didn't wait to catch her breath.
She knocked on the door.
Eternity seemed to pass between the knock and the sound of Remus' chair creaking as he stood. She almost reached for the doorknob and opened it herself.
She settled for another knock.
"Just a moment," came Remus' muffled voice.
No, she couldn't wait another moment. She grabbed the doorknob.
As she touched it, Remus' hand, on the other side, turned it.
The door swung inward, open.
There stood Remus.
Thin, pale Remus, the lines of his face deeply etched in the darkened corridor, with only the dim light from the office behind, and the lightning flashing at the windows, making him look tired.
No -- you made him look tired, Tonks.
His blue eyes, open wide in surprise, but brilliant with hope, told her she could make it right.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the tatty lapels of his robes and pulled him toward her as she arched up on her toes to meet his mouth with hers.
She kissed him hard, briefly.
His eyes stayed open. One hand hung at his side. The other still clutched the doorknob.
She pulled back. Her heart thudded, once. Heavily.
His eyes were dark. He whispered, "What was that for?"
"That was I'm sorry."
Imperceptibly, the lines smoothed from his face. She looked into his eyes and saw, so clearly, that he wanted her to kiss him again.
Her fingers clutched his robes again as she leant toward him.
His fingers curling around her upper arm gently held her back.
His breath caressed her forehead. Or was it his lips?
"I'm sorry, too."
Tonks shook her head. "Don't be. You were right."
She leant into him again, and this time he was more yielding, one hand sliding over her forearm, covering her hands, as she kissed him. Softly this time, though still briefly.
He closed his eyes.
They stayed closed, golden lashes brushing his fair skin, until Tonks whispered, "That was Thank you."
The lashes parted, and his eyes were so, so blue. "For what?"
"For my case. And for making me see I..." She hesitated then, catching herself about to say need, when she really meant, "I want something more than work in my life. Or a cat."
Even as his fingertips trailed down her arm to her elbow, then brushed her side as his palm settled on her waist, she kept glancing at the hand still grasping the doorknob. She wanted to feel both hands fitted so perfectly over her hips as he dipped his head to...
...rest his forehead against hers.
The look in his eyes was, unmistakably, longing.
But he was waiting.
For her.
At the same moment, they exhaled. They breathed in again, together.
Tonks tilted her face upward, and Remus remained perfectly still, allowing her to kiss him again. This time, her lips glided lingeringly over his, taking in their softness; she just parted them with her tongue, and tasted his sweetness.
When she tried to pull away, his hands -- both of them -- settled on her hips, holding her firmly in place.
"And what was that one -- Elphine?"
The caress of his low, rasping voice, like a tender stroke of her skin, made her eyelids briefly flutter closed. "That was, Can I solve your mysteries?"
She felt, rather than saw his smile as, his hands sliding round to her back, he pressed his cheek to hers. "Are you asking me to go out with you?"
Against his shoulder -- more solid than she had believed just by looking at his thin frame -- she nodded. "Yes."
His lips brushed her ear.
She held her breath, so as not to miss his rasping...
"No."
She blinked.
And exhaled.
No.
She pulled her head back from his shoulder. He couldn't have said no. Not after--
Yes, after. After she'd hurt him.
Eyes down, releasing his robes, rumpled from her fingers twisting the fabric, she whispered, "I understand."
But when she tried to pull away, his hands at her back held her against him. "I haven't finished."
Her head snapped up, mouth open to ask him what he meant, why he was doing this. She had been cruel, but this was crueller. He--
--was pulling her through the door, and pushing it to, in one swift motion, like a dance step. Then he was pressing her back against it, pressing himself against her, covering her mouth with his.
Breath hot.
Lips firm -- yet also soft.
Careful, but thorough, as well.
Tender, and yet leaving her in no doubt of his strength as she realised that it was his arm around her waist, and not her desperate clinging to his robes, that was even keeping her upright now.
Teeth, raking lightly over her bottom lip.
Tongue, tracing the inside edge of the upper.
Lips, opening and closing over hers.
Fingertips tracing her cheekbone.
Remus.
As his mouth left hers, she opened her eyes to his twinkling ones looking into them.
"I was asking you to go out with me," he said huskily. "Someplace nice. You know. Because I've made a success of the magical creature black market."
He was teasing. Teasing about her ridiculous accusation. She'd hurt him, but he could laugh about it.
He's forgiven you.
She laughed, and burrowed her face in his robes. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
His chest rumbled against her, soothingly, as he continued to chuckle, bending to kiss her hair, which he was running his fingers through. "Highly unlikely. Does that surprise you?"
"Not really."
"Nor," he said, sliding one of his lovely hands under her chin, to tilt her face up to his, "am I going to neglect to tease you about this being the sort of night a person really ought to wear a Mackintosh and Wellington boots."
"Oh, Merlin!" Face aflame, Tonks pushed him away and looked down at the floor. "I've tracked mud your floor all over your rug!"
"Yes, I definitely want to take you out, seeing as you've got your priorities straight. Muddy rug -- always a greater concern than sopping clothes."
Face hotter, she looked up again, and saw how drenched the front of his robes were. Even his face shimmered from where he'd leant against her wet hair.
"Really, it's very considerate," said Remus, whipping out his wand, twirling it over his knuckles. "Drying Charms are much simpler than carpet cleaning spells."
He dried them both off, then slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, resting his check against her blue curls. "Ah, much better. It's a date, then?"
"Does that mean I've got to tell you my name?"
"I already know it...Nymphadora."
She looked up at him, mouth agape.
"You really shouldn't have thanked me for helping with your case," he said. "My motive was entirely selfish -- I had to solve mine."
"How--?"
"Accio Evening Prophet."
Releasing her with one arm, he caught the evening paper, and unfurled it to reveal the front page covered with a photograph of her cupping one of the golden Snidgets in her hands, handing it over to the warden of the Sheringham Sanctuary. Above it, in bold capitals, was printed: AUROR CADET NYMPHADORA TONKS CRACKS SNIDGET CASE THAT BAFFLED TOP MLE OFFICIALS.
"Does reading the paper count as solving a mystery?"
"Does having Dung stand up in the Hog's Head and all but shout his guilt?"
"You bet it does!" Tonks elbowed him in the ribs, but laughed as she re-read the newspaper headline. "Bit of an exaggeration, that. Especially considering how cracked some of my theories were."
Chuckling, Remus leant in to kiss the tip of her nose. "My theories, on the other hand--"
"Blimey -- have you got the Second Sight?" Tonks interrupted. "You could've knocked me over with a quill after you said Elphine."
There was just a touch of smugness in his grin. "I knew I was on to something when I couldn't stop thinking that you had an elfin quality about you. Nymph did occur to me--"
"Like hell it did!"
''--except that I couldn't think of any names that incorporated it."
"That's because there's only one, which my mum made up, and it's bloody awful."
"It's lovely," he said, surprising her a little with the assertiveness of his tone, and he squeezed her middle. "But if you prefer, I'll still call you Elphine."
"I do prefer," Tonks replied. Not just because she hated her name, but because she loved having a name -- not a clichéd pet name or endearment, but a real name -- only he called her.
"Of course I do reserve the right to use Nymphadora should the occasion arise to tease you."
"But you tease all the time!"
Remus waggled his eyebrows. "I daresay you'll find plenty to tease me about."
"I prefer this sort of teasing," Tonks said, tilting her face up to brush her lips to his -- just barely -- and then pulling away.
He feigned a sulk. "No fair."
"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," she said, stretching up to kiss the corner of his mouth, "and you won't have to worry about that."
He'd just captured her mouth for a proper kiss, when a crash of thunder that rattled the windowpanes made them jump and bump noses.
"It was a dark and stormy night," said Remus, wrapping his arm more securely around her, tucking her head under his chin, "and two mysteries were solved."
Tonks looked up at him. "But not case closed?"
"No," he said, letting the Evening Prophet fall to the floor so he could occupy his hands with other things. "Our file's only just been opened."
The End