Serpents, Chapter Six
Title: Serpents (6/6 + Epilogue)
Author: MrsTater
Rating & Warnings: R for sexuality
Prompts: weakness; "In the light of Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."
Word Count: 6828 words
Summary: Two years into a relationship with Remus, and the correct way to deal with full moons continues to elude Tonks, dredging up her insecurities and memories of painful past failures. Voldemort's attack on a fellow Order member puts everything into perspective for her...But will Remus see the light?
Author’s Notes: A leap into the future in the Caring For Magical Creatures universe, which I think should stand alone even if you've not read that fic, though the background might make more sense as it's a POA-era R/T romance.
Written feverishly, and under the wire, so if there's any weird typos or such-like, I'd be pleased to know about them! As always, thanks to Godricgal for her encouragement and help!
Prologue: Judgment Day | 1. Vicious Cycle | 2. Up From the Grave | 3. Between the Woman and the Serpent | 4. In the Waiting Room | 5. What Was and Is and Is To Come |
6. The Tip Of the Iceberg
"Oh, good," said Tonks, descending into the basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and finding Remus already at the table, all the places set and a serving platter of toast in front of him, removing a couple of teabags from the tarnished silver pot.
He looked up and, seeing her, pushed back his chair and stood. His usual smile was notably absent from his pale, drawn face.
"You got my owl?" she asked.
He nodded, drawing out the chair beside his for her. "We need to talk."
"S'why I owled." A bit of an edge crept into her voice, which she was unable to keep out even as she thanked him for the chair at the foot of the table, kitty-corner to his, which she did not immediately take.
In recent weeks -- when their paths managed to cross at all, that was, which wasn't often -- it seemed impossible not to speak to him that way. Which she hated, but...
That's the price you pay when you gamble your relationship and find out your boyfriend isn't on the same page as you. How long will you even be able to keep calling him boyfriend, now you've put this awkwardness between you?
"Forgive me," said Remus quietly, giving his head a little shake. "I did not greet you properly. Good morning."
He kissed her. Just a peck, not their usual lingering greeting kiss, and as their lips touched, Tonks had a strange sense that she was not actually kissing Remus. He was somewhere else, not here with her.
He doesn't want to marry you, but he's going through the motions of kissing you. Are you just a habit to him?
Is he to you? A two-year habit...
To silence her maddening inner voice, Tonks pulled away from Remus and, shifting into Auror mode, cast a wary eye around the mouldy kitchen. It seemed strange to find herself alone here with Remus, when the Weasley family and Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had been always underfoot for the past month, and though due to leave after breakfast, yet were asleep in the rooms above.
"I take it since you kissed me it's safe," she said in a low, cautious voice, scanning every nook and off-kilter door as she slipped into her seat. "No Kreacher about?"
"Just the Dark one."
At his short, acerbic laugh, Tonks jerked to face him, slamming her elbow on the edge of the table. She inhaled sharply through her teeth and clutched at her throbbing funny bone.
Why's it bloody called that, anyway? It jolly well doesn't feel funny.
Not unlike Remus' joke. Where in Merlin's name was this self-recrimination coming from?
"What in bloody hell happened last night?" she demanded.
As Remus resumed his seat, Tonks noticed how the slightly bitter smile playing around the corners of his mouth deepened the furrows of his face. "Our prank backfired. Tea?"
"So I gathered!" she said, ignoring the offer of tea, his damned politeness irking her even more. "When I got home from my shift last night, Hestia was waiting for me. Bit my head off about how wrong it was that you and I've been hiding our relationship from the Order."
Bit your head off about a lot of other things, too. Said it was positively shameful, after all Remus has been through, the way you've hidden him away like some dark secret...Said she wished he didn't think so lowly of himself that he could see how much better he deserved than a young girl too selfish to see what you're doing to him by not wearing him proudly on your arm...Said you're a disgrace to the Order of the Phoenix if you can't stand up in defiance against the likes of Dolores Umbridge.
A load of complete hogswallop, if you asked Tonks, and she certainly wasn't going to relay all of it to Remus, because he'd be mortified if he knew his Order colleagues said pitying things like after all he's been through behind his back.
As if this secret relationship business was all her idea. What she was doing to him? Bollocks! Remus coped wonderfully well, all things considered. If he was suffering for their secretiveness (which he obviously isn't, or he'd understand you better), it wasn't due to anything she'd done, seeing as she'd done nothing but stand by Remus through thick and thin, even when he held back (everything) from her.
"You've discovered you can morph additional heads, then?" he joked pleasantly, pouring her tea anyway, adding cream and sugar to her taste. "Only you haven't shown up looking like a member of the de Mimsy-Porpington family..." He tilted his head and inspected her collar, as if checking her neck severed and hanging on by a thread.
You see, Hestia Jones, you stupid cow? Tonks thought spitefully as they shared a quiet laugh. If Remus were really as miserable as you make him out to be, would he be cracking jokes at every turn, in the middle of what's meant to be a serious conversation? Or touching my arm like that as he sets my tea in front of me?
Almost the instant she'd thought serious conversation, Remus' raspy chuckle died, and the small smile faded, taking with it the light from his eyes and the colour from his cheeks. His hand slid away from her arm, and his eyes fixed on his fingers as they fiddled with the silver serpentine handle of the Black family china teacup.
"Yesterday afternoon," he said, "Sirius found me copying out your note from Hestia's secret admirer. Thinking it might cheer him up about the row with Severus, I let him in on our little prank."
"Good idea," said Tonks, "though I reckon only in theory, and it's Sirius that made our cunning plan go awry?"
"Indeed," said Remus, letting the word trail away with a sigh. "Apparently even Sirius' capacity to take the mickey out of Snape has a limit. I should have known when he told me to stop pining over you and doing every little thing you asked that sabotage was imminent, but I suppose in my desire to pacify him, my judgment became clouded."
Tonks had taken a drink of her tea as Remus spoke; it turned bitter in her mouth as she imagined Sirius talking about her with a great deal more venom than Remus was letting on.
And Remus, chivalrous as he can be, only defending you with mild platonic detachment in the name of bloody cover.
"Somehow he intercepted my owl," Remus went on, calmly -- infuriatingly, "a talent he cultivated in our school days, and exchanged it for one of his own composition. Which, as I discovered when he lured me into the drawing room last evening, invited Hestia for a romantic candlelight dinner. Not with Secret Admirer Severus."
"He didn't!" The teacup slipped from Tonks' hands, sending a wave of tea across the table.
Without looking at her, Remus dried up the mess with a flick of his wand, righted the cup, and poured her more tea, though Tonks knew it would remain untouched, sickening bile having lodged painfully in her throat.
"I never was one for Divination," Remus said, "but I doubt more prophetic words ever were spoken than Remusdirect her."
"What happened?" Tonks asked. "I mean, I know Hestia must have confessed her feelings for you and mortified herself, but what--?"
"She kissed me," said Remus.
For a moment Tonks sat, open-mouthed, a ringing sound in her ears.
Hestia Jones...
kissed...
That filthy little hussy touched your Remus? On the lips? With her mouth?
Oh God, she was going to be sick...
"I hate to be the one to tell you this," Remus' voice broke gently through the deafening drone in her ears, "but your hair..."
Tonks picked up a teaspoon and checked her distorted reflection in the convex back.
"Oh for the love of--!"
Her hair had spontaneously gone dark ringlets, like the object of her...whatever very negative emotion she was experiencing right now.
She scrunched up her nose and, without really picturing a specific change, morphed her hair.
It went green.
With envy?
Bollocks, she wasn't jealous! Mad as hell at that little cow, but why would she envy someone else for kissing her boyfriend?
Imagining the bubblegum pink she wore for Remus, she morphed again. The result was boring brown that looked like she'd tried to dye it with one of Gilderoy Lockhart's Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow Salon-At-Home kits.
"What did you do?" she asked Remus.
"Nothing!"
Two patches of red had bloomed above his cheekbones, accentuating his bone structure. He looked rather miffed that she would ask.
"Certainly I did not kiss her back. She got the point quickly enough. Whatever she may be, she is not stupid."
"Oh no, not stupid," Tonks snorted, "thinking you admired her from afar!"
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you rather counting on her to think that in order to carry off your little prank?"
"Didn't it stop being my little prank the second you agreed to help me?"
Their eyes held, locked in a brief duel of wills.
Which she won.
Remus looked away first, shoulders slumping as he sighed deeply.
Elbows on the table, he fisted his shaggy hair. "I take full responsibility," he said. "I ought to have been the one to put my foot down and say no."
"Why? Cos you're older?"
"Don't put words in my mouth," Remus hissed, glancing upward, where above floors creaked as the residence of the House of Black stirred, which set Walburga moaning in the corridor. "And keep your voice down."
"Weren't the words already there?"
That's not fair, Tonks. Just cos he's really upset you with that, "You're so young," rubbish the other day doesn't mean you've got the right to bring that quarrel into this one.
But aren't they the same quarrel, at the root of it? she countered herself.
Her conscience promptly shut up.
"Please, Tonks," Remus implored, "I've already got a quarrel with Sirius. I can't juggle one with you, as well. Again."
"Technically it's not quarrelling with me again since clearly it never ended the other day. More like resuming--"
"Don't," he cut her off, and somehow the very quietness of his voice contained an authority that reminded her she'd let her voice rise again with her temper. "You are correct, our quarrel did not end -- but I would like for it to."
Folding her arms across her chest, Tonks tilted her chair on its back legs. "Then give me a reason why you won't talk about the m-word with me."
His foot caught the support beam that connected the legs of her char, pushing it flat onto the ground again, and his eyes bored into hers. "I gave you one."
"You must be tired," said Remus, catching her hands, which had been mounting a Glow Star to the ceiling over their bed, and gently prising it away from her. "Otherwise you'd never be putting up that dinky little star where Pollux goes."
Tonks grinned sleepily at him. "George'd be right pissed off to know I tried to give him a tiny head."
"Or is that Fred?" Remus cocked his head to inspect their partially completed map of Gemini, which they had mutually agreed was the right and proper place to begin their glow-in-the-dark map of the constellations, in honour if the Weasley twins, from whom Remus had obtained the Glow Stars. "We never decided which of the Gemini represented which Weasley twin."
"No, it's definitely George. Pollux was the sweet twin in the myth. Or his name means sweet, anyway."
She moved to get a better-sized star from the selection scattered across the messy unmade sheets and duvet they were standing on, but the mattress shifted, and she narrowly avoided a plunge from the bed by Remus' sure hand catching her elbow.
"Hand me that nice big one, then?" she asked.
Remus Summoned the one she was pointing to, but kept his eyes on her face, scrutinising her.
"Ta," she said, turning to affix the proper star at the left twin's head, but Remus held her firmly, facing him.
"You do look tired," he said.
"Didn't sleep much," Tonks said with a shrug. "No big deal."
"Was I snoring?"
"You don't snore."
Remus' hand fell to his side. "At school James and Sirius always said my snores could wake Inferi."
Snorting, Tonks resumed her placement of Pollux. "I can't believe you'd have fallen for anything that pair of liars told you. What'd you do with that little star I had? It'll do for Upsilon Geminorum."
The mattress shifted again as Remus stretched over her to place the star for Pollux's chest. "If I wasn't snoring, what kept you up?"
Tonks wavered as she fought to keep her balance on the moving bed. Collapsing to her knees amid the plastic stars, she admitted, "Trying to figure out what you meant last night."
Remus added Pollux's left hand, then looked down at her with a furrowed brow. "Last night?"
Tonks' heart felt as if it had turned into a Snidget that had found itself in the middle of a Quidditch match. Though terrified of continuing with that train of thought, as Remus' apparent ignorance, whether real or feigned, seemed to confirm the worst fears she'd had during the wakeful night, she knew she must answer him honestly, because he knew something was wrong, and it was impossible to hide from him.
At least she had an excuse not to look into his intuitive blue eyes. She dropped her gaze, and pretended to hunt for a good Iota Geminorum for the twins' joined hands.
"You know," she said, "before we went to sleep."
Remus dropped onto the mattress, stretching his long, plaid pyjama-clad legs out as he reclined on one elbow. "If it was post-coital and I was falling asleep, chances are, I didn't mean a thing."
In spite of having just acknowledged the possibility of Remus' being completely unaware of the words they'd exchanged before he drifted off to sleep, his words, though lightly spoken, struck her like a slap in the face. She felt numb, immune to his touch, as his hand settled on her knee.
"What were we talking about?" he asked.
Tonks wondered if this wasn't a sign that she'd been spared something horrible, given a rare chance to alter a misstep without having to suffer the inevitably dire consequences of it. A sharp inward prick, however, as if that Snidget flitting around in her chest had pecked at her heart, compelled her to do something to satisfy the hunger for honesty which had gnawed at her for the past week, leaving her starved.
"It's just..."
She hesitated, drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them. Remus' hand remained on her knee, its weight comforting. His kind eyes bade her to continue, and she moved one hand to rest atop his, fingers curling lightly around his thumb, which had been stroking her red flannel pyjama bottoms with the cute grinning snowmen.
"The attack on Arthur got me thinking," she said. "We've been together two years now. Don't most couples who've been together that long usually start thinking about..." She looked away again, swallowed, drew a deep breath, blurted, "...moving in together...sharing a surname...making miniature people with the same surname...?"
She braced herself for the age of thick silence that was sure to follow, but was startled by Remus' immediate answer.
"I am certain that many couples do begin to think along those lines after two years, yes."
Hope burst within her like one of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Fireworks and, smiling, she raised her head to look at Remus.
No explosion of shimmering colour followed, as she saw his face, set in an expression of terrible, utter neutrality.
"I am equally certain" he went on, "that many other couples do not."
"What about this one?"
Then came the age of thick silence. Which, once it had been broken, Tonks wished had gone on forever.
Remus touched her cheek, smiling sadly at her. "You're so young, Elphine."
Recoiling from his touch as if it had been some cold, slithering thing, Tonks flung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. "What the bloody hell's that supposed to mean?"
Her bravado was a defence against the hurt she felt, but when Remus continued to smile at her, a measure of tolerance creeping into his expression, and addressed her as if she were Ginny Weasley or Hermione Granger or some other much-younger person he could have taught. "As you said, the attack on Arthur got you thinking about marriage. In wartime, people always rush into marriages because they fear time is short."
Tonks resisted an impulse to stamp her foot, settling for digging her bare heel into the rough wooden floor as she balled her hands into her fists at her sides, fingernails carving half-moons into her own palms. "But it is short!"
"That is no reason to make up your mind about something like marriage."
Remus shuffled the stars on the bed, selected one, and stood up on the bed once more. As he positioned it at Pollux's waist, he looked at Tonks, his face unperturbed.
"You'll see. In a few weeks, once the shock has worn off and you can step back from the situation and look at it objectively, you will not feel so pressed."
It had been a few weeks, but Tonks didn't feel she'd achieved any objectivity from the passage of time that she hadn't arrived at through her own realisations in the wake of Arthur Weasley's brush with death. True, they had been born of great emotional duress, but why didn't that make them legitimate feelings?
"I meant a good reason," Tonks flung at him. "Yours just smacked of a typical stupid man who's not in touch with emotions."
She'd spoken out of equal parts frustration and an odd desire to provoke him into some sort of emotional reaction, but Remus' face remained impassive and his body language communicated nothing.
Don't forget who you're dealing with, Tonks. Remus might not understand how your emotions work with your mind, but that doesn't mean he hasn't got feelings of his own, and that they aren't playing into what he thinks. He's just so damn good at hiding them.
"I will give you three good reasons," said Remus, so low that Tonks nearly missed it amid the rising volume of the sounds of a household awakening -- doors creaking open and slamming, pipes groaning and gurgling as rusty water struggled to flow through them, the muffled shouts of the kids doing last-minute packing as their mother scolded them.
"One: After eighteen months of unemployment, I am hardly in the position to marry."
"You've got a house!"
Immediately Tonks regretted her retort, as guilt hit her like a cold sea breaker that she'd forced him to admit things which surely killed his pride which she was clever enough to know without his saying. He wasn't meeting her eyes. Oh, Merlin...
Hestia was right about you! You are selfish, and--
She had to stop him from going on.
But thought occurred too late.
Remus had already said, "Two: With Voldemort rallying Dark Creatures to his side, it is entirely likely that much darker times lie ahead for my kind. Keeping a low profile will, more than ever, be of utmost importance if I am to continue to serve the Order effectively -- or to continue a relationship with you. Which brings me to my third point--"
"I see your point!" Tonks cried. As the echo of her voice off the rough stone walls died, she thought she heard the scuff of a slipper on the steps, and a muffled cough.
Remus' eyes flicked to the closed door, then back to her. "If secrecy is vital to our Order work," he whispered, leaning toward her, "not to mention to your career, how could we possibly marry?"
It was on the tip of Tonks' tongue to shout that she didn't know, but if they wanted it badly enough they would find a way. (She could only hope that he was rejecting the idea outright because he did want it, but did not want to be hurt by holding the dream too close; though she had no real foundation for that hope.) Her fingers itched to grab him by the front of his robes and shake him, and tell him that she didn't care what it meant to her career. In fact, sod her career. All she wanted was him--
--but the door creaked open, and Molly's face peeked around it, very pale between the contrasting flame red of her hair and deep purple of her quilted dressing gown. Her brown eyes were wide and obviously troubled as they darted back and forth from Tonks to Remus, but she smiled and said, "Good morning, dears. I don't mean to interrupt, but I need to start breakfast soon so we can get the children off in time."
"Come in," Remus said, "we were just--"
"Could you give us another minute or two, Molly?" Tonks interrupted.
No way was she letting this drag on. They had work to do today, and she was crap when things weren't right between them. She'd not been on top of her game since this marriage issue had cropped up, and Kingsley, though he thought she and Remus as romantic partners were a thing of the past, had told her she was moping about and mucking up like she had when she'd broken up with Remus.
"Of course," said Molly, just as something like an explosion, followed by peals of laughter, sounded several storeys up. "Anyway, I think the twins need another reminder that they're supposed to be packing."
The second the door closed behind her, Remus whispered urgently, "I know that's not what you wanted to hear, but that's how I feel, and I would appreciate if you could drop it, for now."
Though the phrase drop it put her on the defensive, she honoured his request.
"We won't be a secret from the Order now," she said, reaching for a slice of toast -- stone cold now -- and scraping butter across it. "You know Hestia won't be able to keep her big mouth shut about it, right?"
She spooned out a measure of orange marmalade, accidentally dabbing her thumb in it. She licked it off, then added, "And Sirius will harass us both every chance he gets."
"We should not have done it," said Remus. "Hestia is angry and mortified, and Sirius sees it as a betrayal." Clutching the handle of his teacup, he added, darkly, "I think he's angrier at me than he is at Severus."
Tonks took a bite of toast. "He's not really angry at Snape. He's just angry."
Remus shook his head.
"He is!" Tonks said.
"Well, yes," Remus whispered, again reminding her to keep her voice down. "But I believe he really was concerned about me not being able to get over you. Then he found out I was hiding from him that you and I really have been together all along."
"Sorry to cut your little guilt trip short, but I seriously doubt it had as much to do with you as it did with him wanting something to amuse him. Like hooking his best mate up with an annoying cow. He's still living in your Marauder days. Or trying to."
"You don't understand."
Tonks shot him a glare. "Because I'm so young?"
Looking up at the mouldy ceiling, Remus shut his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have never regretted a choice of words more."
"Cut it out with the regrets, will you?" Tonks said. "Going back to your earlier point, even if you hadn't agreed to go along with the prank, it's not like you could've stopped me. I'd have just gone ahead with it myself, tried to write like a bloke -- come to think of it, Snape's writing's a bit girly. Or I'd have thought the same as you, that a prank on Snape would cheer Sirius up, and asked him to write the stupid letter. Then we'd still be in this spot, and you wouldn't be responsible."
She crammed the rest of her toast in her mouth, then washed it down with a gulp of tea.
"Anyway, I'm glad it's out in the open, because much as I hate to admit it, Hestia's right. We should've trusted the Order."
"It wouldn't have been right for us to burden them with our secrets," said Remus. "They already keep enough--"
"It was more wrong not to trust them," Tonks cut him off.
She held up her left arm, pushing up her sleeve to reveal her rune bracelet, and held Mannaz, Rune of Humanity, in front of his face. It's opal caught the flickering candlelight from one of the wall sconces.
"You gave me this rune for the Order. You said the Order would bear us up. But how can they -- why would they -- when we're hiding?"
Remus said nothing, and his thoughtful silence encouraged Tonks.
"I'm sorry how it came out, with people getting hurt, but honestly I'm glad it's out in the open now. I can't do it anymore, Remus. I have too much to do -- we both have -- and too little time, to waste on this--"
"Tonks, let it go--"
"I'm not talking about marriage, Remus!"
His gaze darted to the door again, beyond which came the sounds of trunks thumping down the stairs. "Your voice...The kids..."
"All I've ever wanted is to wear my own face," Tonks whispered. "The Order are the only people I can be completely honest with anymore, but I haven't been, because of us. We've been a lie--"
Remus' face went ghastly pale, but Tonks assumed it was because at that moment, the kitchen door had banged open, revealing Harry, Ron, and Hermione gawping in the dark stairway.
During the hurried affair that was breakfast, Tonks began to rethink her assessment of Remus' pallor. He spoke little, which was odd for him. The uncomfortable atmosphere of the room was heightened by the continual concerned glances Molly kept throwing over her shoulder as she cooked, and Sirius' sullen presence at the head of the table.
Without eating more than a few bites of toast and taking a couple of sips of tea, Remus rose from the table. He looked down at Tonks with business-like detachment and asked, "How are you going today?"
Tonks knew the necessity of disguise for this assignment of accompanying the kids back to Hogwarts, but in the context of the last words she'd whispered to him, the question struck her like the opening spell in a duel.
Rising to her feet, not once allowing her glare to waver from his eyes, she morphed into a tall, tweedy witch with iron grey hair.
"Not so young now?" she muttered before she stalked off to Transfigure her clothes into the outfit of the sort of woman he, apparently, thought he might travel with and not arouse suspicion.
No thanks to the herky-jerky Knight Bus ride and the oblivion of its conductor, whom Tonks resorted to threatening with hexing to Oblivion before he got the point that it was urgent his next stop be Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she developed a banging headache which did nothing to improve her mood or outlook on life after her row with Remus.
She followed Remus' lead, re-boarding the bus for the return trip to Grimmauld Place, without argument, not wanting to give him the advantage of being able to say something superior like, See? Fretting over us has brought you nothing but a headache.
"There's two seats together at the back, where I sat with Ginny and the twins," Remus said. "Should be fairly private for conversation."
He looked at her appraisingly at first, then with concern deepening the lines at the corners of eyes. Lightly touching the elbow of her matronly tweed jacket, he asked, "Or would you prefer fresh air?"
She jerked her arm away, sneering. "Or would you prefer fresh air while I stay down here -- for cover?"
She stalked to the back of the bus, surprised that Remus followed. His gait was slow, cautious almost, and he barely took his seat before a BANG catapulted Tonks out of hers. Remus' arms shot out, catching her round the waist before she could slam her head into the armchair in front.
"Thanks," she muttered grudgingly as he eased her back into her chair.
Remus kept one hand resting lightly, protectively, on her shoulder. At any other time, Tonks would have loved the gesture, taken it as a true sign of how deeply, in every little detail, he cared for her. In point of fact, it held that precise effect over her now, perhaps even more so, because even though they were quarelling, he continued to look after her.
Less pleasant was the fair amount of guilt it heaped on her as well, which she didn't feel she deserved. She wouldn't quarrel with him if he wouldn't be unreasonable. It couldn't all be her fault, could it?
Look at him, Tonks. Does that expression say he blames you even a little bit?
Tonks obeyed her conscience, and gasped to see him wearing the face he'd worn that day the summer before last, when she'd broken up with him. It was a face she'd hoped never to see again.
"How long have you been unhappy with me?" he asked.
"What? I'm not--"
Hand falling away from her shoulder, into his lap, Remus turned his head and peered out the window at the Muggle traffic the Knight Bus was weaving through, which moved at a Streeler's pace in comparison to the magical vehicle. Though, the way her head pounded with every zig-zag of the bus, Tonks thought those Muggle might be on to something, with their slow pace and shortest-distance-between-two-points-is-a-straight-line routes.
"You said you can't do it anymore," Remus said, hoarsely, and in the daylight pouring through the window, his eyes look glassy. "You said we're a lie. Those are not the words of a happy woman."
Tonks winced, which sent a searing flash of pain behind her eyes. Her thoughts echoed Remus' earlier statement: she'd never regretted a choice of words more.
Don’t get too down on yourself. He's pulled them all out of context and pieced them together in a crazy patchwork that has nothing to do with what you meant.
She sat up straight -- no easy task since at that moment the bus gave another BANG that forced her to shoot her legs out and plant her heels firmly in the back of the seat in front of her. Which sent a little wizard flying out of his seat, but it was survival of the fittest on the Knight Bus.
Putting her feet on the floor again, she turned to Remus and said, "Not three weeks ago I all but asked you to marry me. Why the hell would I ask for a permanent relationship with you if I wasn't happy?"
Remus met her eye. "Perhaps you thought marriage might be the cure-all to make you happy?"
Tonks gawped at him. He had not just...! Did he really think...?
You're so young.
Battling the sting of tears, Tonks slid in her seat to face front. "Not if we're acting like this."
They rode silently for several minutes -- apart from the BANGS which, for all they worsened the throbbing in Tonks' temples and made her even more irritable, also jarred her into action.
"I meant I'd had enough of secrets, you daft great prat!" she hissed, clutching the edges of her seat to keep from being jostled around. How was Remus managing to sit so steady on this wild ride? Typical. "I can't keep us a secret anymore."
"Do you think I like hiding you?" Remus asked. "You're the sort of witch I'd very much like to stand in the middle of Diagon Alley and shout to the whole Wizarding community that I'm the luckiest man in the world because Nymphadora Tonks is my girlfriend." His eyes, bright with emotion, held hers and he added, very softly, "Or my wife."
As if he'd given her a headache potion, the throbbing abated, and even though she knew it was impossible, the Knight Bus seemed to have adopted a smoother course.
He does feel what you do.
She drew her seat closer to his, so that her shoulder touched his upper arm. Discreetly, she stretched out her ring and pinky fingers to touch his knee.
"I don't want the whole Wizarding community, Remus. The Order's enough, really, and we've got that now..."
Glancing up at him, she noticed the tight set of his jaw, his cheek muscle flexing almost imperceptibly beneath his pale skin. He didn't seem pleased that the Order knew.
"It's just..." She turned to face him. "How far do you plan on taking this? You're the one that got emotional after and said that could've been me Nagini nearly killed. What if it had been? Wouldn't you have blown cover and sat by my bed and held my hand till I woke up?"
She paused so he could answer.
And waited.
And waited longer.
In a way, his silence was worse than if he had said no.
He has to think about it.
How can he have to think about it?
"Healer Smethwyk said it was Molly as much as magic that kept Arthur with us," she went on, desperately, now clutching at his robe as it lay over his thigh. "If it was you, I wouldn't be able to stay away, cover or no cover. There are a lot of things worth dying for, but a lie isn't one of them."
With a glance up ahead at the other passengers, Remus laid his hand over hers. "You do know it was never my intent to do anything but protect you, don't you? I couldn't let you lose your job before you even got it, or your reputation. Not for me."
Tonks shook her head. "But I have lost it."
"No--"
"All that stuff about me in the Prophet--"
"--made you out to be a victim. I am the villain."
"Not to the Order of the Phoenix!"
Tonks just glimpsed his stunned face before another BANG flung her onto the floor.
"What do you mean?" Remus asked, not offering her the hand up she would've expected from a man who'd just talked about how protective of her he was. Which was a real testament to how shocked he was by what she'd said. Which was one thing she really hadn't meant to go into.
But if it would get the point across....
"You're not the only person in the world who likes to be liked, Remus. Everyone in the Order loves you. Hell," she added, feeling her mouth twist in a sickened expression at the image of Hestia throwing herself at Remus, kissing him, "they're bloody in love with you. But as far as they're concerned about me, I might as well endorse Dolores Umbridge's anti-werewolf legislation."
"Just because they think you broke up with me because of what I am doesn't make you a bigot in their eyes."
"Bollocks!" Tonks shouted from the floor. Even though Remus' gaze drifted over her head, to the other passengers whom she saw out the corner of her eye were watching with undisguised interest, she didn't lower her voice. Maybe it was because he was still so damned worried that she didn't lower her voice.
"Unless you plan on standing up and telling them all our entire torrid love story, which I know you won't Mister Remus John Taciturn Lupin, they'll go right on thinking, even if we are together, that at one point I broke up with you because of what you are!"
Remus extended his hand to her with a rueful smile. "No one would blame you one iota for saying no, thanks to the life a werewolf can offer."
Tonks had grabbed his hand to allow him to pull her up, but her grip went slack, and she fell back onto her bum.
It was just as well, as the BANG at the same moment would have sent her there anyway.
"No one?" she repeated, incredulous. Not for me...The life a werewolf can offer. "Not even you?"
Remus remained silent, and did not meet her eyes.
It dawned on Tonks quite suddenly and painfully how poorly Remus thought of himself.
"How I wish Remus didn't think so lowly of himself," Hestia's accusation reverberated in her memory, "that he could see how much better he deserves than a young girl too selfish see what you're doing to him by not wearing him proudly on your arm!"
He didn't see how she saw him. She wasn't sure how he didn't, but somehow he didn't. She couldn't imagine what she'd have done differently, to make him see.
Then again, if she'd realised he saw himself as a man -- not even a man, a Dark Creature, as he'd said this morning -- with nothing to offer, she'd likely have done a lot of things differently. Not that she could think of a single thing right now.
Except for badgering him about marriage, and saying that having a house meant he was in the position to be your husband.
But if it was the secrecy...He had been the one to impose it on them, hadn't he? After the scandal surrounding his departure from Hogwarts had died down and she was a full-fledged member of the Auror force, she'd thought from time to time that she'd give up the games in a heartbeat if he were okay with it. Or had she'd have done something, said something, that made him think she wouldn't? Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't said anything, that she'd let him take the lead...Maybe he assumed her willingness to follow meant a willingness to hide him.
You're so young.
Frustration welled. She was young. She only had twenty-two years to his thirty-five, and while the difference in numbers didn't trouble her, or even the experience, really, the lack of communication did. Remus should have known that she was too young, too inexperienced, too naïve, to recognise the fear and insecurity he'd learnt to hide. Why hadn't he shown her more? Was that all that in the name of protection, too? Or didn’t he trust her?
"Jus' outside London!" called Stan Shunpike, and Tonks guessed that since Remus, looking over her head, nodded, that the conductor had turned around in his seat to address them.
"You shouldn't ride on the floor," Remus said, offering his hand again.
Tonks was unaware of taking it, but the next thing she knew, the Knight Bus had rolled to a stop, and she, from her seat beside Remus, was looking blankly out the window at decrepit, rubbish-strewn Grimmauld Place, and she and Remus were the only passengers still onboard.
He'd already stood and stepped into the aisle. "Are you coming in?"
Continuing to stare at Numbers Eleven and Thirteen, between which Number Twelve nestled unseen, Tonks pictured Sirius, at the table this morning, looking at her with the same expression that entered his eyes when he spoke of every other member of his family. In the state she was in, she'd either do something brash and wind up duelling him, or she'd just crumple up in a mouldy corner and cry. Which wouldn't help her bolster Remus' self-esteem.
"Depends," she said hollowly.
"On?"
"What we'd be going in as," she said, looking at him. "Would you hold my hand? Call me Elphine in front of Sirius?"
Remus shook his head.
"It wouldn't be fair to you," he said, taking a step backward in the aisle. "I have not been fair to you. If it's a husband you are looking for," he said, turning, "I am afraid you are looking in the wrong place. Forgive me."
Ducking his head, turning up his collar against the bitter January cold, he turned and disembarked the Knight Bus.
"You gettin' orf, Lady?" asked Stan.
Tonks shook her head. "No."
"Where to, then?"
"I don't know. Anywhere."
Stan looked at her for a moment, then, with a grin, slapped the dashboard with his palm. "'ow abou' the Leaky Cauldron? Look like you could do wiff a drink."
"Yeah. I could."
"S'on me," Stan added, gesturing to himself with his thumb.
Tonks thanked him with a quiet, "Ta," then looked out at the window again.
Remus was stood in front of invisible Number Twelve, watching until the Knight Bus vanished with a BANG.
A/N: A bit of a downer ending, but there shall be an Epilogue. Though I'm sorry to say it shan't be finished before my carriage turns into a pumpkin. Look for it on my personal journal tomorrow sometime!
I cannot say thank you enough to all who have read and reviewed this fic and encouraged me to keep at it even when I thought I'd never finish.
As always, feedback is very much appreciated. This time, reviewers get a drink, courtesy of the Harry Potter wizard of your choice. I guess if you'd like you can have a Squib or a Muggle, too, but I cannot imagine anyone wanting a drink with Filch or Vernon Dursley in return for a review. Remus is, of course, an option, but he might require a bit of cheering up first. Not that most of you would like have much of a problem with that.
Read the Epilogue.
Author: MrsTater
Rating & Warnings: R for sexuality
Prompts: weakness; "In the light of Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."
Word Count: 6828 words
Summary: Two years into a relationship with Remus, and the correct way to deal with full moons continues to elude Tonks, dredging up her insecurities and memories of painful past failures. Voldemort's attack on a fellow Order member puts everything into perspective for her...But will Remus see the light?
Author’s Notes: A leap into the future in the Caring For Magical Creatures universe, which I think should stand alone even if you've not read that fic, though the background might make more sense as it's a POA-era R/T romance.
Written feverishly, and under the wire, so if there's any weird typos or such-like, I'd be pleased to know about them! As always, thanks to Godricgal for her encouragement and help!
Prologue: Judgment Day | 1. Vicious Cycle | 2. Up From the Grave | 3. Between the Woman and the Serpent | 4. In the Waiting Room | 5. What Was and Is and Is To Come |
6. The Tip Of the Iceberg
"Oh, good," said Tonks, descending into the basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and finding Remus already at the table, all the places set and a serving platter of toast in front of him, removing a couple of teabags from the tarnished silver pot.
He looked up and, seeing her, pushed back his chair and stood. His usual smile was notably absent from his pale, drawn face.
"You got my owl?" she asked.
He nodded, drawing out the chair beside his for her. "We need to talk."
"S'why I owled." A bit of an edge crept into her voice, which she was unable to keep out even as she thanked him for the chair at the foot of the table, kitty-corner to his, which she did not immediately take.
In recent weeks -- when their paths managed to cross at all, that was, which wasn't often -- it seemed impossible not to speak to him that way. Which she hated, but...
That's the price you pay when you gamble your relationship and find out your boyfriend isn't on the same page as you. How long will you even be able to keep calling him boyfriend, now you've put this awkwardness between you?
"Forgive me," said Remus quietly, giving his head a little shake. "I did not greet you properly. Good morning."
He kissed her. Just a peck, not their usual lingering greeting kiss, and as their lips touched, Tonks had a strange sense that she was not actually kissing Remus. He was somewhere else, not here with her.
He doesn't want to marry you, but he's going through the motions of kissing you. Are you just a habit to him?
Is he to you? A two-year habit...
To silence her maddening inner voice, Tonks pulled away from Remus and, shifting into Auror mode, cast a wary eye around the mouldy kitchen. It seemed strange to find herself alone here with Remus, when the Weasley family and Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had been always underfoot for the past month, and though due to leave after breakfast, yet were asleep in the rooms above.
"I take it since you kissed me it's safe," she said in a low, cautious voice, scanning every nook and off-kilter door as she slipped into her seat. "No Kreacher about?"
"Just the Dark one."
At his short, acerbic laugh, Tonks jerked to face him, slamming her elbow on the edge of the table. She inhaled sharply through her teeth and clutched at her throbbing funny bone.
Why's it bloody called that, anyway? It jolly well doesn't feel funny.
Not unlike Remus' joke. Where in Merlin's name was this self-recrimination coming from?
"What in bloody hell happened last night?" she demanded.
As Remus resumed his seat, Tonks noticed how the slightly bitter smile playing around the corners of his mouth deepened the furrows of his face. "Our prank backfired. Tea?"
"So I gathered!" she said, ignoring the offer of tea, his damned politeness irking her even more. "When I got home from my shift last night, Hestia was waiting for me. Bit my head off about how wrong it was that you and I've been hiding our relationship from the Order."
Bit your head off about a lot of other things, too. Said it was positively shameful, after all Remus has been through, the way you've hidden him away like some dark secret...Said she wished he didn't think so lowly of himself that he could see how much better he deserved than a young girl too selfish to see what you're doing to him by not wearing him proudly on your arm...Said you're a disgrace to the Order of the Phoenix if you can't stand up in defiance against the likes of Dolores Umbridge.
A load of complete hogswallop, if you asked Tonks, and she certainly wasn't going to relay all of it to Remus, because he'd be mortified if he knew his Order colleagues said pitying things like after all he's been through behind his back.
As if this secret relationship business was all her idea. What she was doing to him? Bollocks! Remus coped wonderfully well, all things considered. If he was suffering for their secretiveness (which he obviously isn't, or he'd understand you better), it wasn't due to anything she'd done, seeing as she'd done nothing but stand by Remus through thick and thin, even when he held back (everything) from her.
"You've discovered you can morph additional heads, then?" he joked pleasantly, pouring her tea anyway, adding cream and sugar to her taste. "Only you haven't shown up looking like a member of the de Mimsy-Porpington family..." He tilted his head and inspected her collar, as if checking her neck severed and hanging on by a thread.
You see, Hestia Jones, you stupid cow? Tonks thought spitefully as they shared a quiet laugh. If Remus were really as miserable as you make him out to be, would he be cracking jokes at every turn, in the middle of what's meant to be a serious conversation? Or touching my arm like that as he sets my tea in front of me?
Almost the instant she'd thought serious conversation, Remus' raspy chuckle died, and the small smile faded, taking with it the light from his eyes and the colour from his cheeks. His hand slid away from her arm, and his eyes fixed on his fingers as they fiddled with the silver serpentine handle of the Black family china teacup.
"Yesterday afternoon," he said, "Sirius found me copying out your note from Hestia's secret admirer. Thinking it might cheer him up about the row with Severus, I let him in on our little prank."
"Good idea," said Tonks, "though I reckon only in theory, and it's Sirius that made our cunning plan go awry?"
"Indeed," said Remus, letting the word trail away with a sigh. "Apparently even Sirius' capacity to take the mickey out of Snape has a limit. I should have known when he told me to stop pining over you and doing every little thing you asked that sabotage was imminent, but I suppose in my desire to pacify him, my judgment became clouded."
Tonks had taken a drink of her tea as Remus spoke; it turned bitter in her mouth as she imagined Sirius talking about her with a great deal more venom than Remus was letting on.
And Remus, chivalrous as he can be, only defending you with mild platonic detachment in the name of bloody cover.
"Somehow he intercepted my owl," Remus went on, calmly -- infuriatingly, "a talent he cultivated in our school days, and exchanged it for one of his own composition. Which, as I discovered when he lured me into the drawing room last evening, invited Hestia for a romantic candlelight dinner. Not with Secret Admirer Severus."
"He didn't!" The teacup slipped from Tonks' hands, sending a wave of tea across the table.
Without looking at her, Remus dried up the mess with a flick of his wand, righted the cup, and poured her more tea, though Tonks knew it would remain untouched, sickening bile having lodged painfully in her throat.
"I never was one for Divination," Remus said, "but I doubt more prophetic words ever were spoken than Remusdirect her."
"What happened?" Tonks asked. "I mean, I know Hestia must have confessed her feelings for you and mortified herself, but what--?"
"She kissed me," said Remus.
For a moment Tonks sat, open-mouthed, a ringing sound in her ears.
Hestia Jones...
kissed...
That filthy little hussy touched your Remus? On the lips? With her mouth?
Oh God, she was going to be sick...
"I hate to be the one to tell you this," Remus' voice broke gently through the deafening drone in her ears, "but your hair..."
Tonks picked up a teaspoon and checked her distorted reflection in the convex back.
"Oh for the love of--!"
Her hair had spontaneously gone dark ringlets, like the object of her...whatever very negative emotion she was experiencing right now.
She scrunched up her nose and, without really picturing a specific change, morphed her hair.
It went green.
With envy?
Bollocks, she wasn't jealous! Mad as hell at that little cow, but why would she envy someone else for kissing her boyfriend?
Imagining the bubblegum pink she wore for Remus, she morphed again. The result was boring brown that looked like she'd tried to dye it with one of Gilderoy Lockhart's Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow Salon-At-Home kits.
"What did you do?" she asked Remus.
"Nothing!"
Two patches of red had bloomed above his cheekbones, accentuating his bone structure. He looked rather miffed that she would ask.
"Certainly I did not kiss her back. She got the point quickly enough. Whatever she may be, she is not stupid."
"Oh no, not stupid," Tonks snorted, "thinking you admired her from afar!"
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you rather counting on her to think that in order to carry off your little prank?"
"Didn't it stop being my little prank the second you agreed to help me?"
Their eyes held, locked in a brief duel of wills.
Which she won.
Remus looked away first, shoulders slumping as he sighed deeply.
Elbows on the table, he fisted his shaggy hair. "I take full responsibility," he said. "I ought to have been the one to put my foot down and say no."
"Why? Cos you're older?"
"Don't put words in my mouth," Remus hissed, glancing upward, where above floors creaked as the residence of the House of Black stirred, which set Walburga moaning in the corridor. "And keep your voice down."
"Weren't the words already there?"
That's not fair, Tonks. Just cos he's really upset you with that, "You're so young," rubbish the other day doesn't mean you've got the right to bring that quarrel into this one.
But aren't they the same quarrel, at the root of it? she countered herself.
Her conscience promptly shut up.
"Please, Tonks," Remus implored, "I've already got a quarrel with Sirius. I can't juggle one with you, as well. Again."
"Technically it's not quarrelling with me again since clearly it never ended the other day. More like resuming--"
"Don't," he cut her off, and somehow the very quietness of his voice contained an authority that reminded her she'd let her voice rise again with her temper. "You are correct, our quarrel did not end -- but I would like for it to."
Folding her arms across her chest, Tonks tilted her chair on its back legs. "Then give me a reason why you won't talk about the m-word with me."
His foot caught the support beam that connected the legs of her char, pushing it flat onto the ground again, and his eyes bored into hers. "I gave you one."
"You must be tired," said Remus, catching her hands, which had been mounting a Glow Star to the ceiling over their bed, and gently prising it away from her. "Otherwise you'd never be putting up that dinky little star where Pollux goes."
Tonks grinned sleepily at him. "George'd be right pissed off to know I tried to give him a tiny head."
"Or is that Fred?" Remus cocked his head to inspect their partially completed map of Gemini, which they had mutually agreed was the right and proper place to begin their glow-in-the-dark map of the constellations, in honour if the Weasley twins, from whom Remus had obtained the Glow Stars. "We never decided which of the Gemini represented which Weasley twin."
"No, it's definitely George. Pollux was the sweet twin in the myth. Or his name means sweet, anyway."
She moved to get a better-sized star from the selection scattered across the messy unmade sheets and duvet they were standing on, but the mattress shifted, and she narrowly avoided a plunge from the bed by Remus' sure hand catching her elbow.
"Hand me that nice big one, then?" she asked.
Remus Summoned the one she was pointing to, but kept his eyes on her face, scrutinising her.
"Ta," she said, turning to affix the proper star at the left twin's head, but Remus held her firmly, facing him.
"You do look tired," he said.
"Didn't sleep much," Tonks said with a shrug. "No big deal."
"Was I snoring?"
"You don't snore."
Remus' hand fell to his side. "At school James and Sirius always said my snores could wake Inferi."
Snorting, Tonks resumed her placement of Pollux. "I can't believe you'd have fallen for anything that pair of liars told you. What'd you do with that little star I had? It'll do for Upsilon Geminorum."
The mattress shifted again as Remus stretched over her to place the star for Pollux's chest. "If I wasn't snoring, what kept you up?"
Tonks wavered as she fought to keep her balance on the moving bed. Collapsing to her knees amid the plastic stars, she admitted, "Trying to figure out what you meant last night."
Remus added Pollux's left hand, then looked down at her with a furrowed brow. "Last night?"
Tonks' heart felt as if it had turned into a Snidget that had found itself in the middle of a Quidditch match. Though terrified of continuing with that train of thought, as Remus' apparent ignorance, whether real or feigned, seemed to confirm the worst fears she'd had during the wakeful night, she knew she must answer him honestly, because he knew something was wrong, and it was impossible to hide from him.
At least she had an excuse not to look into his intuitive blue eyes. She dropped her gaze, and pretended to hunt for a good Iota Geminorum for the twins' joined hands.
"You know," she said, "before we went to sleep."
Remus dropped onto the mattress, stretching his long, plaid pyjama-clad legs out as he reclined on one elbow. "If it was post-coital and I was falling asleep, chances are, I didn't mean a thing."
In spite of having just acknowledged the possibility of Remus' being completely unaware of the words they'd exchanged before he drifted off to sleep, his words, though lightly spoken, struck her like a slap in the face. She felt numb, immune to his touch, as his hand settled on her knee.
"What were we talking about?" he asked.
Tonks wondered if this wasn't a sign that she'd been spared something horrible, given a rare chance to alter a misstep without having to suffer the inevitably dire consequences of it. A sharp inward prick, however, as if that Snidget flitting around in her chest had pecked at her heart, compelled her to do something to satisfy the hunger for honesty which had gnawed at her for the past week, leaving her starved.
"It's just..."
She hesitated, drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them. Remus' hand remained on her knee, its weight comforting. His kind eyes bade her to continue, and she moved one hand to rest atop his, fingers curling lightly around his thumb, which had been stroking her red flannel pyjama bottoms with the cute grinning snowmen.
"The attack on Arthur got me thinking," she said. "We've been together two years now. Don't most couples who've been together that long usually start thinking about..." She looked away again, swallowed, drew a deep breath, blurted, "...moving in together...sharing a surname...making miniature people with the same surname...?"
She braced herself for the age of thick silence that was sure to follow, but was startled by Remus' immediate answer.
"I am certain that many couples do begin to think along those lines after two years, yes."
Hope burst within her like one of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Fireworks and, smiling, she raised her head to look at Remus.
No explosion of shimmering colour followed, as she saw his face, set in an expression of terrible, utter neutrality.
"I am equally certain" he went on, "that many other couples do not."
"What about this one?"
Then came the age of thick silence. Which, once it had been broken, Tonks wished had gone on forever.
Remus touched her cheek, smiling sadly at her. "You're so young, Elphine."
Recoiling from his touch as if it had been some cold, slithering thing, Tonks flung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. "What the bloody hell's that supposed to mean?"
Her bravado was a defence against the hurt she felt, but when Remus continued to smile at her, a measure of tolerance creeping into his expression, and addressed her as if she were Ginny Weasley or Hermione Granger or some other much-younger person he could have taught. "As you said, the attack on Arthur got you thinking about marriage. In wartime, people always rush into marriages because they fear time is short."
Tonks resisted an impulse to stamp her foot, settling for digging her bare heel into the rough wooden floor as she balled her hands into her fists at her sides, fingernails carving half-moons into her own palms. "But it is short!"
"That is no reason to make up your mind about something like marriage."
Remus shuffled the stars on the bed, selected one, and stood up on the bed once more. As he positioned it at Pollux's waist, he looked at Tonks, his face unperturbed.
"You'll see. In a few weeks, once the shock has worn off and you can step back from the situation and look at it objectively, you will not feel so pressed."
It had been a few weeks, but Tonks didn't feel she'd achieved any objectivity from the passage of time that she hadn't arrived at through her own realisations in the wake of Arthur Weasley's brush with death. True, they had been born of great emotional duress, but why didn't that make them legitimate feelings?
"I meant a good reason," Tonks flung at him. "Yours just smacked of a typical stupid man who's not in touch with emotions."
She'd spoken out of equal parts frustration and an odd desire to provoke him into some sort of emotional reaction, but Remus' face remained impassive and his body language communicated nothing.
Don't forget who you're dealing with, Tonks. Remus might not understand how your emotions work with your mind, but that doesn't mean he hasn't got feelings of his own, and that they aren't playing into what he thinks. He's just so damn good at hiding them.
"I will give you three good reasons," said Remus, so low that Tonks nearly missed it amid the rising volume of the sounds of a household awakening -- doors creaking open and slamming, pipes groaning and gurgling as rusty water struggled to flow through them, the muffled shouts of the kids doing last-minute packing as their mother scolded them.
"One: After eighteen months of unemployment, I am hardly in the position to marry."
"You've got a house!"
Immediately Tonks regretted her retort, as guilt hit her like a cold sea breaker that she'd forced him to admit things which surely killed his pride which she was clever enough to know without his saying. He wasn't meeting her eyes. Oh, Merlin...
Hestia was right about you! You are selfish, and--
She had to stop him from going on.
But thought occurred too late.
Remus had already said, "Two: With Voldemort rallying Dark Creatures to his side, it is entirely likely that much darker times lie ahead for my kind. Keeping a low profile will, more than ever, be of utmost importance if I am to continue to serve the Order effectively -- or to continue a relationship with you. Which brings me to my third point--"
"I see your point!" Tonks cried. As the echo of her voice off the rough stone walls died, she thought she heard the scuff of a slipper on the steps, and a muffled cough.
Remus' eyes flicked to the closed door, then back to her. "If secrecy is vital to our Order work," he whispered, leaning toward her, "not to mention to your career, how could we possibly marry?"
It was on the tip of Tonks' tongue to shout that she didn't know, but if they wanted it badly enough they would find a way. (She could only hope that he was rejecting the idea outright because he did want it, but did not want to be hurt by holding the dream too close; though she had no real foundation for that hope.) Her fingers itched to grab him by the front of his robes and shake him, and tell him that she didn't care what it meant to her career. In fact, sod her career. All she wanted was him--
--but the door creaked open, and Molly's face peeked around it, very pale between the contrasting flame red of her hair and deep purple of her quilted dressing gown. Her brown eyes were wide and obviously troubled as they darted back and forth from Tonks to Remus, but she smiled and said, "Good morning, dears. I don't mean to interrupt, but I need to start breakfast soon so we can get the children off in time."
"Come in," Remus said, "we were just--"
"Could you give us another minute or two, Molly?" Tonks interrupted.
No way was she letting this drag on. They had work to do today, and she was crap when things weren't right between them. She'd not been on top of her game since this marriage issue had cropped up, and Kingsley, though he thought she and Remus as romantic partners were a thing of the past, had told her she was moping about and mucking up like she had when she'd broken up with Remus.
"Of course," said Molly, just as something like an explosion, followed by peals of laughter, sounded several storeys up. "Anyway, I think the twins need another reminder that they're supposed to be packing."
The second the door closed behind her, Remus whispered urgently, "I know that's not what you wanted to hear, but that's how I feel, and I would appreciate if you could drop it, for now."
Though the phrase drop it put her on the defensive, she honoured his request.
"We won't be a secret from the Order now," she said, reaching for a slice of toast -- stone cold now -- and scraping butter across it. "You know Hestia won't be able to keep her big mouth shut about it, right?"
She spooned out a measure of orange marmalade, accidentally dabbing her thumb in it. She licked it off, then added, "And Sirius will harass us both every chance he gets."
"We should not have done it," said Remus. "Hestia is angry and mortified, and Sirius sees it as a betrayal." Clutching the handle of his teacup, he added, darkly, "I think he's angrier at me than he is at Severus."
Tonks took a bite of toast. "He's not really angry at Snape. He's just angry."
Remus shook his head.
"He is!" Tonks said.
"Well, yes," Remus whispered, again reminding her to keep her voice down. "But I believe he really was concerned about me not being able to get over you. Then he found out I was hiding from him that you and I really have been together all along."
"Sorry to cut your little guilt trip short, but I seriously doubt it had as much to do with you as it did with him wanting something to amuse him. Like hooking his best mate up with an annoying cow. He's still living in your Marauder days. Or trying to."
"You don't understand."
Tonks shot him a glare. "Because I'm so young?"
Looking up at the mouldy ceiling, Remus shut his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have never regretted a choice of words more."
"Cut it out with the regrets, will you?" Tonks said. "Going back to your earlier point, even if you hadn't agreed to go along with the prank, it's not like you could've stopped me. I'd have just gone ahead with it myself, tried to write like a bloke -- come to think of it, Snape's writing's a bit girly. Or I'd have thought the same as you, that a prank on Snape would cheer Sirius up, and asked him to write the stupid letter. Then we'd still be in this spot, and you wouldn't be responsible."
She crammed the rest of her toast in her mouth, then washed it down with a gulp of tea.
"Anyway, I'm glad it's out in the open, because much as I hate to admit it, Hestia's right. We should've trusted the Order."
"It wouldn't have been right for us to burden them with our secrets," said Remus. "They already keep enough--"
"It was more wrong not to trust them," Tonks cut him off.
She held up her left arm, pushing up her sleeve to reveal her rune bracelet, and held Mannaz, Rune of Humanity, in front of his face. It's opal caught the flickering candlelight from one of the wall sconces.
"You gave me this rune for the Order. You said the Order would bear us up. But how can they -- why would they -- when we're hiding?"
Remus said nothing, and his thoughtful silence encouraged Tonks.
"I'm sorry how it came out, with people getting hurt, but honestly I'm glad it's out in the open now. I can't do it anymore, Remus. I have too much to do -- we both have -- and too little time, to waste on this--"
"Tonks, let it go--"
"I'm not talking about marriage, Remus!"
His gaze darted to the door again, beyond which came the sounds of trunks thumping down the stairs. "Your voice...The kids..."
"All I've ever wanted is to wear my own face," Tonks whispered. "The Order are the only people I can be completely honest with anymore, but I haven't been, because of us. We've been a lie--"
Remus' face went ghastly pale, but Tonks assumed it was because at that moment, the kitchen door had banged open, revealing Harry, Ron, and Hermione gawping in the dark stairway.
During the hurried affair that was breakfast, Tonks began to rethink her assessment of Remus' pallor. He spoke little, which was odd for him. The uncomfortable atmosphere of the room was heightened by the continual concerned glances Molly kept throwing over her shoulder as she cooked, and Sirius' sullen presence at the head of the table.
Without eating more than a few bites of toast and taking a couple of sips of tea, Remus rose from the table. He looked down at Tonks with business-like detachment and asked, "How are you going today?"
Tonks knew the necessity of disguise for this assignment of accompanying the kids back to Hogwarts, but in the context of the last words she'd whispered to him, the question struck her like the opening spell in a duel.
Rising to her feet, not once allowing her glare to waver from his eyes, she morphed into a tall, tweedy witch with iron grey hair.
"Not so young now?" she muttered before she stalked off to Transfigure her clothes into the outfit of the sort of woman he, apparently, thought he might travel with and not arouse suspicion.
No thanks to the herky-jerky Knight Bus ride and the oblivion of its conductor, whom Tonks resorted to threatening with hexing to Oblivion before he got the point that it was urgent his next stop be Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she developed a banging headache which did nothing to improve her mood or outlook on life after her row with Remus.
She followed Remus' lead, re-boarding the bus for the return trip to Grimmauld Place, without argument, not wanting to give him the advantage of being able to say something superior like, See? Fretting over us has brought you nothing but a headache.
"There's two seats together at the back, where I sat with Ginny and the twins," Remus said. "Should be fairly private for conversation."
He looked at her appraisingly at first, then with concern deepening the lines at the corners of eyes. Lightly touching the elbow of her matronly tweed jacket, he asked, "Or would you prefer fresh air?"
She jerked her arm away, sneering. "Or would you prefer fresh air while I stay down here -- for cover?"
She stalked to the back of the bus, surprised that Remus followed. His gait was slow, cautious almost, and he barely took his seat before a BANG catapulted Tonks out of hers. Remus' arms shot out, catching her round the waist before she could slam her head into the armchair in front.
"Thanks," she muttered grudgingly as he eased her back into her chair.
Remus kept one hand resting lightly, protectively, on her shoulder. At any other time, Tonks would have loved the gesture, taken it as a true sign of how deeply, in every little detail, he cared for her. In point of fact, it held that precise effect over her now, perhaps even more so, because even though they were quarelling, he continued to look after her.
Less pleasant was the fair amount of guilt it heaped on her as well, which she didn't feel she deserved. She wouldn't quarrel with him if he wouldn't be unreasonable. It couldn't all be her fault, could it?
Look at him, Tonks. Does that expression say he blames you even a little bit?
Tonks obeyed her conscience, and gasped to see him wearing the face he'd worn that day the summer before last, when she'd broken up with him. It was a face she'd hoped never to see again.
"How long have you been unhappy with me?" he asked.
"What? I'm not--"
Hand falling away from her shoulder, into his lap, Remus turned his head and peered out the window at the Muggle traffic the Knight Bus was weaving through, which moved at a Streeler's pace in comparison to the magical vehicle. Though, the way her head pounded with every zig-zag of the bus, Tonks thought those Muggle might be on to something, with their slow pace and shortest-distance-between-two-points-is-a-straight-line routes.
"You said you can't do it anymore," Remus said, hoarsely, and in the daylight pouring through the window, his eyes look glassy. "You said we're a lie. Those are not the words of a happy woman."
Tonks winced, which sent a searing flash of pain behind her eyes. Her thoughts echoed Remus' earlier statement: she'd never regretted a choice of words more.
Don’t get too down on yourself. He's pulled them all out of context and pieced them together in a crazy patchwork that has nothing to do with what you meant.
She sat up straight -- no easy task since at that moment the bus gave another BANG that forced her to shoot her legs out and plant her heels firmly in the back of the seat in front of her. Which sent a little wizard flying out of his seat, but it was survival of the fittest on the Knight Bus.
Putting her feet on the floor again, she turned to Remus and said, "Not three weeks ago I all but asked you to marry me. Why the hell would I ask for a permanent relationship with you if I wasn't happy?"
Remus met her eye. "Perhaps you thought marriage might be the cure-all to make you happy?"
Tonks gawped at him. He had not just...! Did he really think...?
You're so young.
Battling the sting of tears, Tonks slid in her seat to face front. "Not if we're acting like this."
They rode silently for several minutes -- apart from the BANGS which, for all they worsened the throbbing in Tonks' temples and made her even more irritable, also jarred her into action.
"I meant I'd had enough of secrets, you daft great prat!" she hissed, clutching the edges of her seat to keep from being jostled around. How was Remus managing to sit so steady on this wild ride? Typical. "I can't keep us a secret anymore."
"Do you think I like hiding you?" Remus asked. "You're the sort of witch I'd very much like to stand in the middle of Diagon Alley and shout to the whole Wizarding community that I'm the luckiest man in the world because Nymphadora Tonks is my girlfriend." His eyes, bright with emotion, held hers and he added, very softly, "Or my wife."
As if he'd given her a headache potion, the throbbing abated, and even though she knew it was impossible, the Knight Bus seemed to have adopted a smoother course.
He does feel what you do.
She drew her seat closer to his, so that her shoulder touched his upper arm. Discreetly, she stretched out her ring and pinky fingers to touch his knee.
"I don't want the whole Wizarding community, Remus. The Order's enough, really, and we've got that now..."
Glancing up at him, she noticed the tight set of his jaw, his cheek muscle flexing almost imperceptibly beneath his pale skin. He didn't seem pleased that the Order knew.
"It's just..." She turned to face him. "How far do you plan on taking this? You're the one that got emotional after and said that could've been me Nagini nearly killed. What if it had been? Wouldn't you have blown cover and sat by my bed and held my hand till I woke up?"
She paused so he could answer.
And waited.
And waited longer.
In a way, his silence was worse than if he had said no.
He has to think about it.
How can he have to think about it?
"Healer Smethwyk said it was Molly as much as magic that kept Arthur with us," she went on, desperately, now clutching at his robe as it lay over his thigh. "If it was you, I wouldn't be able to stay away, cover or no cover. There are a lot of things worth dying for, but a lie isn't one of them."
With a glance up ahead at the other passengers, Remus laid his hand over hers. "You do know it was never my intent to do anything but protect you, don't you? I couldn't let you lose your job before you even got it, or your reputation. Not for me."
Tonks shook her head. "But I have lost it."
"No--"
"All that stuff about me in the Prophet--"
"--made you out to be a victim. I am the villain."
"Not to the Order of the Phoenix!"
Tonks just glimpsed his stunned face before another BANG flung her onto the floor.
"What do you mean?" Remus asked, not offering her the hand up she would've expected from a man who'd just talked about how protective of her he was. Which was a real testament to how shocked he was by what she'd said. Which was one thing she really hadn't meant to go into.
But if it would get the point across....
"You're not the only person in the world who likes to be liked, Remus. Everyone in the Order loves you. Hell," she added, feeling her mouth twist in a sickened expression at the image of Hestia throwing herself at Remus, kissing him, "they're bloody in love with you. But as far as they're concerned about me, I might as well endorse Dolores Umbridge's anti-werewolf legislation."
"Just because they think you broke up with me because of what I am doesn't make you a bigot in their eyes."
"Bollocks!" Tonks shouted from the floor. Even though Remus' gaze drifted over her head, to the other passengers whom she saw out the corner of her eye were watching with undisguised interest, she didn't lower her voice. Maybe it was because he was still so damned worried that she didn't lower her voice.
"Unless you plan on standing up and telling them all our entire torrid love story, which I know you won't Mister Remus John Taciturn Lupin, they'll go right on thinking, even if we are together, that at one point I broke up with you because of what you are!"
Remus extended his hand to her with a rueful smile. "No one would blame you one iota for saying no, thanks to the life a werewolf can offer."
Tonks had grabbed his hand to allow him to pull her up, but her grip went slack, and she fell back onto her bum.
It was just as well, as the BANG at the same moment would have sent her there anyway.
"No one?" she repeated, incredulous. Not for me...The life a werewolf can offer. "Not even you?"
Remus remained silent, and did not meet her eyes.
It dawned on Tonks quite suddenly and painfully how poorly Remus thought of himself.
"How I wish Remus didn't think so lowly of himself," Hestia's accusation reverberated in her memory, "that he could see how much better he deserves than a young girl too selfish see what you're doing to him by not wearing him proudly on your arm!"
He didn't see how she saw him. She wasn't sure how he didn't, but somehow he didn't. She couldn't imagine what she'd have done differently, to make him see.
Then again, if she'd realised he saw himself as a man -- not even a man, a Dark Creature, as he'd said this morning -- with nothing to offer, she'd likely have done a lot of things differently. Not that she could think of a single thing right now.
Except for badgering him about marriage, and saying that having a house meant he was in the position to be your husband.
But if it was the secrecy...He had been the one to impose it on them, hadn't he? After the scandal surrounding his departure from Hogwarts had died down and she was a full-fledged member of the Auror force, she'd thought from time to time that she'd give up the games in a heartbeat if he were okay with it. Or had she'd have done something, said something, that made him think she wouldn't? Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't said anything, that she'd let him take the lead...Maybe he assumed her willingness to follow meant a willingness to hide him.
You're so young.
Frustration welled. She was young. She only had twenty-two years to his thirty-five, and while the difference in numbers didn't trouble her, or even the experience, really, the lack of communication did. Remus should have known that she was too young, too inexperienced, too naïve, to recognise the fear and insecurity he'd learnt to hide. Why hadn't he shown her more? Was that all that in the name of protection, too? Or didn’t he trust her?
"Jus' outside London!" called Stan Shunpike, and Tonks guessed that since Remus, looking over her head, nodded, that the conductor had turned around in his seat to address them.
"You shouldn't ride on the floor," Remus said, offering his hand again.
Tonks was unaware of taking it, but the next thing she knew, the Knight Bus had rolled to a stop, and she, from her seat beside Remus, was looking blankly out the window at decrepit, rubbish-strewn Grimmauld Place, and she and Remus were the only passengers still onboard.
He'd already stood and stepped into the aisle. "Are you coming in?"
Continuing to stare at Numbers Eleven and Thirteen, between which Number Twelve nestled unseen, Tonks pictured Sirius, at the table this morning, looking at her with the same expression that entered his eyes when he spoke of every other member of his family. In the state she was in, she'd either do something brash and wind up duelling him, or she'd just crumple up in a mouldy corner and cry. Which wouldn't help her bolster Remus' self-esteem.
"Depends," she said hollowly.
"On?"
"What we'd be going in as," she said, looking at him. "Would you hold my hand? Call me Elphine in front of Sirius?"
Remus shook his head.
"It wouldn't be fair to you," he said, taking a step backward in the aisle. "I have not been fair to you. If it's a husband you are looking for," he said, turning, "I am afraid you are looking in the wrong place. Forgive me."
Ducking his head, turning up his collar against the bitter January cold, he turned and disembarked the Knight Bus.
"You gettin' orf, Lady?" asked Stan.
Tonks shook her head. "No."
"Where to, then?"
"I don't know. Anywhere."
Stan looked at her for a moment, then, with a grin, slapped the dashboard with his palm. "'ow abou' the Leaky Cauldron? Look like you could do wiff a drink."
"Yeah. I could."
"S'on me," Stan added, gesturing to himself with his thumb.
Tonks thanked him with a quiet, "Ta," then looked out at the window again.
Remus was stood in front of invisible Number Twelve, watching until the Knight Bus vanished with a BANG.
A/N: A bit of a downer ending, but there shall be an Epilogue. Though I'm sorry to say it shan't be finished before my carriage turns into a pumpkin. Look for it on my personal journal tomorrow sometime!
I cannot say thank you enough to all who have read and reviewed this fic and encouraged me to keep at it even when I thought I'd never finish.
As always, feedback is very much appreciated. This time, reviewers get a drink, courtesy of the Harry Potter wizard of your choice. I guess if you'd like you can have a Squib or a Muggle, too, but I cannot imagine anyone wanting a drink with Filch or Vernon Dursley in return for a review. Remus is, of course, an option, but he might require a bit of cheering up first. Not that most of you would like have much of a problem with that.
Read the Epilogue.