Consequences - Chapter 11
Title: Consequences
Author: me- pandorajones
Parings: Tonks/OMC, Tonks/Charlie, Tonks/Remus
Rated: NC-17
Summary: What she sees as a terrible mistake at The Department of Mysteries is followed by a poor choice a few days later.
Tonk's Life begins to spiral out of control.
Warnings: adult themes , violent imagery.
Chapter 11: Crossroads
*
Lionel’s Licentious Libations Liberator: All purpose hangover remedy and spot remover. “We’ll pick you up off the floor and we’ll even help you clean up the mess!”
Lionel’s, unfortunately, contains a form of nightshade extract, the same form contained in Sleeping Potion, and therefore, I am forbidden from taking Lionel’s. Bugger. Had I known that last night I may not have had quite so much to drink. I flick the box back across the table to Remus.
Remus has had his potion. Remus is right as rain. And smiling about it too. Bastard.
‘Still don’t know why we had to come all the way back here for breakfast,’ I whine, just so he knows I didn’t appreciate having to get up and drag myself back to Headquarters at half eight this morning.
‘Because,’ Remus answers, helping himself to another slice of toast, ‘there is a subtle difference between actual bacon and bacon flavoured Pot Noodle, that you may not be aware of.’
‘Stay out of my pantry.’
He laughs. ‘In calling it that, one would assume it’s a place where food is kept. This is not the case. I’ll have some of those sausages, Molly.’
Molly, who has been hovering over us with the frying pan, chuckles and slides sausages onto Remus’s plate and, as if to prove his point, drops a pile of bacon onto mine.
‘I don’t think I can eat.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she says, adding eggs and tomatoes to my plate. ‘The best thing for you this morning is a good strong breakfast. You’ll feel better.’
‘And drink your water,’ Remus adds, pushing my glass closer to me.
‘I’d rather a giant coffee and my bed.’
‘Nonsense, you’d only feel sick for longer. No good to anyone then.’ She shakes her head at Remus. ‘Honestly, getting her drunk, she’s still recovering...’
At first I think Remus may spit out his sausage but he chokes it down. ‘Me! I assure you, Molly, she needed no help from me on that account.’
‘Madam Pomfrey says I’m fine, Molly. Good as new. Besides,’ I nod toward Remus, ‘he needed a bit of fun.’
‘Did I?’ He raises an eyebrow at me as I shovel bacon and egg into my mouth.
Chew. Swallow. ‘You did. Molly, you should have seen all the women lined up for a snog.’
Molly looks a little shocked but dead interested.
‘And were any of them lucky enough...’ she doesn’t quite ask.
’No-’ I begin.
‘One was ... lucky.’ He grins.
I want to shout “Lucky?” across the table at him but doing so would only mean more questions from Molly, so I have to be content with mouthing it at him. My mouth is full of breakfast but it serves him right.
‘So you had fun then, did you?’ Molly asks.
‘We did,’ I answer after swallowing.
Remus just nods between mouthfuls of sausage. Molly, for some reason, looks pleased as punch. For a moment I think she might ruffle his hair.
‘Thanks so much for breakfast, Molly,’ I say, finishing my tomato and picking up my toast. ‘Hate to eat and run but I’ve got to meet Mad-Eye.’
‘Where are you off to today?’ Remus asks, opening his paper.
‘Can’t remember exactly. Somewhere in Devon.’
‘Be safe.’ Molly picks up my empty plate and piles it on the tray with the other dirty ones.
‘Always, Molly. I’m with Mad-Eye, constant vigilance and all that.’
I pause only to drink the rest of my water, making sure Remus watches. Molly, after clearing his plate, takes her tray to the kitchen. As soon as she leaves the room, Remus looks up at me.
‘Lucky girl.’
‘Lucky? Really? I was under the impression that I didn’t count.’
‘You don’t.’
‘Yet here you are counting it in front of Molly.’
‘Just telling her what she wanted to hear.’
‘Mmmm. Right.’ Picking up my cloak from the back of my chair, I turn to go. But I can’t help looking over my shoulder as I do and adding, ‘Made you blush.’
I hear the crack of his newspaper as he turns the page and then a soft chuckle. ‘Oh, shut up, Xena.’
***
Giants in the West Country.
Fucking giants in the fucking West Country. Uprooting trees, ripping roofs off houses, hurling cars, redirecting rivers. A mess. Five Muggles dead, more than a hundred injured; seven witches and wizards in St Mungo’s tonight; thirty odd not-so-serious injuries. I’ve got a nasty gash on my arm that had to be bandaged but other than that I’m fine. Luckily, I can move a hell of a lot faster than the average giant; even one swinging a tree.
Suppose we’re lucky more people weren’t killed.
Moody and I were in Teignmouth this morning looking for Morris Minor, another wizard on the Ministry’s wanted list, hoping to add more reward money to the Order’s coffers. Word reached us rather quickly that all hell was breaking loose.
There were only two of them but two giants can do a lot of damage in a very small amount of time. Dawlish, Kelly and Proudfoot were already there along with a handful of others. Dawlish asked me how it was I got there so quickly; he’d only just sent word and wasn’t I off today anyway? I told him I was but had been visiting a friend nearby and thought he could use the help. I think he’s rather impressed with me now.
He didn’t ask why Moody was there. Nobody ever questions Moody, they just stay out of his way. What a day. And here I was hoping for a quiet afternoon just me and my nausea.
Looking forward to being back here tonight though, just relaxing, curling up in front of the fire with a hot drink. I’ll read a book ... or be read one. I’d like that. Perhaps I can convince Remus to do that again.
Molly is the only occupant of the pub-room. She sits by the fire, knitting something with maroon wool.
‘Hi,’ I say, slumping down in the chair opposite, stretching my toes out toward the flames.
‘Hello, dear.’
‘Is that for Ron?’
‘Yes. The boy’s growing so much, it’s hard to keep up.’
‘How is he doing?’
‘He’ll be out of the hospital wing soon. Able to rejoin his classmates.’
‘They’ll be back next week, won’t they?’
‘Yes, and there’s still so much to do. With Arthur working so much now, and I’ve hardly been home. You’ve just missed Arthur. He only managed to pop in for a late supper and he was off again. Are you hungry at all? I can knock you up something if you like, egg and chips?
‘No, I’m all right, thanks. Is Remus here?’
‘No, he’s in Hogsmeade tonight, for Dumbledore.’
‘Oh.’ Shit. I can feel the panic beginning to rise in me. My chest instantly tightens and I can suddenly feel my heartbeat in my ears. Shit, shit, shit, shit. He’s helped me so much these past few days, can I really do without him? Of course I can. Being silly. Not as if I can sleep in his bed forever. He’s probably quite sick of me by now anyway. I shake my head. Being an idiot.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ Molly asks, making me jump and tear my gaze from the fire. I hadn’t realised I was staring into the flames. Little orange lights dance before my eyes as I look at her.
‘Yes. I’m fine,’ I say, shrugging my shoulders and trying to look fine.
‘He’ll be back first thing in the morning.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’ Pulling myself up out of the chair, I turn to go.
‘He’s reachable; you can owl him if you like.’ Molly smiles up at me, not pausing for a moment in her knitting.
‘No. It’s all right. It’s not important.’
But part of me really wants to send that owl. That would really be stupid, wouldn’t it? Remus could you please drop what you’re doing and return to London, Nymphadora can’t sleep.
How pathetic am I?
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Molly says softly.
‘Yes. Actually, I think I’m going to take a walk. Some of the lads from work were meeting at the Leaky. Think I’ll join them.’
‘All right, dear. Be safe. And it’s probably not a good idea to have a repeat of last night. Just saying.’
‘I know. I won’t. Night, Molly.’
‘Good night.’
*
It’s raining again, just for a change. Seems to always be raining now, raining and cold. Feels like November. Mad-Eye says the Dementors are breeding. That’s just a creepy thought in itself, more of those horrible creatures. Just the thought of it gives me gooseflesh.
The rain makes the lights of the Palace Theatre look all fuzzy as I turn into Charing Cross Road and begin the short walk to the Leaky Cauldron. It’s pretty though. I’ve always liked the rain at night. Unless, of course, I’m working in it.
A lot of people seem to have the same idea as I do tonight. But then, on a cold and rainy night there are few better places than a pub, with roaring fires, good food, and steaming Butterbeer. The place smells like a bakeshop, a tobacconist’s and a brewery all rolled into one and it’s lovely. It is also packed. I slip through the crowd, making for our usual table in the far corner, and find the same Ministry singletons that are here on any given Friday. The table, also as usual, is laden with steaming jugs of Butterbeer, a couple of bottles of Ogden’s and every type of greasy finger food imaginable.
‘Look what the Kneazle dragged in,’ Harris laughs.
‘Thought you weren’t coming,’ Kingsley says, as I duck under his arm to reach the empty seat against the wall. A mug is put in front of me almost instantly and a steaming jug of Butterbeer is pushed across the table in my direction.
‘Wasn’t going to; changed my mind.’ Filling my mug, I take a long sip, and shiver from my head to my toes. Lovely stuff.
‘Honestly, Tonks,’ Kelly pipes up, ‘when I saw that tree come down today I thought you were under it.’
‘Who me? Never. Far too quick for that. Nice black eye by the way. How long were you out for?’
‘You were out? Thought you said he just clipped you?’ Kingsley laughs, a rich, rolling sound that works with the Butterbeer to warm me.
‘Thanks, Tonks,’ Kelly says with a good-natured grin. ‘Thanks a lot.’
‘Anytime, Kels.’
Kingsley is still laughing.
‘Hey, at least I was there.’ Kelly smirks at him.
‘Yes, Mr Shacklebolt,’ I grin, ‘I did notice your absence today. Care to tell us why?’
‘Scrimgeour has singled him out. Given him a special tasking,’ comes a gruff voice from a bit further down the table as Salinger joins our conversation.
‘Special tasking? Where?’ Got both Kels and I interested now.
‘I’d tell you...’ Kingsley grins smugly to the whole group. ‘But then I’d have to kill you.’
‘How is it?’ Really I’m hoping to garner a bit more information.
‘Not bad, I can see it becoming a bit tedious, but not bad.’
‘So you think it’s going to be Scrimgeour then, for the new Minister?’ Kelly asks hopefully.
Kingsley nods. ‘Looks that way, it’s just a matter of time.’
‘Hey, Salinger,’ Harris calls down the table as he empties the jug into his goblet. ‘The jugs are empty.’
‘Really, is it me again already?’
‘I’ll get it,’ I say standing. ‘I haven’t bought a round yet.’
‘Tonks, Tonks, Tonks, Tonks!’ Comes a roar of approval from the table.
‘Calm down, I’ll be right back. And don’t let Harris have the last of those cheese claws. I want those.’ I slip past Kingsley again and through the crowded pub to the bar. I place my order, and try and make my way back to the table. Knowing Tom the drinks will arrive before I do. I’m almost there when suddenly Dawlish appears in front of me.
‘Tonks, just the person I wanted to see. Excellent work today, just excellent.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Just telling my colleagues what a hectic day we’ve had. Dawlish jerks his thumb toward a tall man standing behind him. ‘Tonks, have you met Jon Hammond?’
Oh ... fuck.
My heart leaps to my throat as Jon turns toward me.
Jon, this is Miss Tonks, one of the Ministry’s youngest Aurors. She did some wonderful work today.’
Jon nods. ‘We’ve met,’ he says coldly, looking somewhere over my head.
‘Splendid,’ Dawlish mutters, oblivious to the tension between Jon and me. ‘Ah, there’s Bagman, just have to rub it in about the Wasps spectacular loss to Manchester. Back in a mo.’
And he’s gone.
I stand looking Jon square in the chest. Too scared really to look him in the face. What I’m sure is only a few moments, seems like forever. When I do finally raise my eyes, he’s looking at me. What do I say? Where do I start?
‘What did you do to your arm?’ he asks, and I look down, just now realising that I probably should have changed clothes. My sleeve is ripped to the elbow and the white bandage is showing.
‘Giant hit me with a tree,’ I answer truthfully. Rather melodramatic version of the truth but the truth nonetheless. Doesn’t get much of a reaction.
‘You all right?’ he asks, in the same even tone.
I nod.
‘Good.’
‘Jon ... I just...’
He shakes his head. ‘I have nothing more to say to you. I’m glad you’re all right. Goodnight, Tonks.’ And he’s gone. Moving away, quickly disappearing in the sea of robes that surround me. Fuck.
Back at the table, I am greeted with an enthusiastic ‘Cheers’ from those enjoying more Butterbeer and whisky. I top up my mug, pick up a cheese claw and bite into it carefully. Always so good but the cheese in the middle is like molten lava, it’s so hot. They laugh and joke around me and, although I get a few good jabs in, I can’t help feeling a bit removed from it all, like an observer rather than a participant. Every now and again I think I glimpse Jon through the crowd. And every time I do it hurts. If I shut my eyes I can hear his voice in my head, ‘Did you sleep with him? Fucking answer me Tonks!’ my quiet ‘Yes,’ and then the sound of his mug shattering against the wall.
I want to be able to say I’m sorry. I want him to know that I mean it. I never wanted to hurt him. That I never meant to.
‘All right, Tonks? You look a bit dazed,’ Kingsley asks, elbowing me gently.
‘Fine. Just tired. Should probably go home, actually.’
‘Oh, come on, stay.’
‘Don’t think I can. I’m liable to fall asleep at the table.’
‘All right then,’ he says, as I duck under his arm.
‘Night,’ I call to the table and wave.
‘Night,’ they answer.
*
If I go back to Headquarters it means going to bed. If I go to bed and I can’t sleep, what do I do then? No Remus tonight, no Charlie, just me. So, instead of Charing Cross Road, I find myself standing in Diagon Alley, staring down the dark street at the only shop that’s still open: McGlacken’s All Sorts. It stays open almost all night. Convenient for the witch or wizard who needs to pick up a pint of milk, or a bar of chocolate, or a headache remedy...
…Or a sleeping draught.
I know I shouldn’t do it even as I push the front door open and the bell tinkles above me. But I do it anyway. Walk to the back of the shop; I know exactly where it is. They always have blackcurrant flavour. And I find myself picking up two boxes before heading to the counter to pay.
Just for tonight. Just in case.
Then why two boxes?
The bell tinkles above me again on the way out, a little blue box in each of my pockets. Honestly, I feel a little better, a bit scared but better.
It’s less than ten minutes back to Headquarters. There’s no one downstairs when I get in. So I put the kettle on, pick out a mug, sit by the fire and pull a small, blue box from my pocket. It looks so unassuming, with its little twinkling stars and the darling drawing of a sleepy sheep in a nightcap. I flip the box over to read the warnings on the back for the first time. Do not take if you have any of the following conditions: blah, blah, blah. Do not take for more than three consecutive nights. If insomnia persists consult a healer. DO NOT EXCEED RECOMMENDED DOSAGE. May be habit-forming.
Habit. I like that word better.
The kettle begins to whistle.
I take it from the hearth and put it on the table beside me. Break the seal on the box. Take out one packet. Just one. I have twelve. Look around the room to be sure I am alone. Tear packet open. Tip purple powder into mug. Pour water. It bubbles and fizzles and I lean over it feeling the heat on my face. I love that smell.
But one won’t be enough. I know it won’t.
I slide another packet out of the little blue box. Just two. Two is all right; I’ve done two before. Tearing off the top of the next packet, I watch as the powder drops to the surface of the liquid and dissolves. It all bubbles and spurts furiously. I stir it with my wand tip, then fold the empty packets carefully and throw them into the fire. The box, I return to my pocket.
I’d better go up to bed. It’s very quiet down here now but there’s no guarantee that it will stay that way.
My boots make a hollow noise on the stairs as I walk up.
Will two be enough? What if it’s like last time? What if it doesn’t work?
If it doesn’t work… I don’t know.
And I don’t know what to do. It’s odd, to be terrified of lying down and shutting my eyes. But I’m shaking; I’m fucking shaking. This is so stupid.
The hollow clunk of my boots slows and stops. I can feel tears burning behind my eyes. But I can’t help telling myself to just suck it up. It’s just for tonight. Things will be better in the morning.
Will they?
I have another ten packets of sleeping potion in my robes. I don’t need that many. Four should do it.
Stop it.
Wiping my hand across my eyes, I take a long, deep breath and look up. Door number twelve looms before me. There is no light coming from under it. Charlie’s not here. He left Wednesday.
If I knock ... If I knock and he is here, I’ll give him my mug. If not, I’ll continue to my room. Crossing the landing, I rap swiftly on the door. Nothing. No light, no noise. Thought as much.
I jump when it swings open before me.
I’ve woken him up. He yawns, running a hand across his face and into his hair.
‘Hi,’ he says sleepily.
‘Hi,’ I whisper. ‘I didn’t think you’d be here.’
‘And I didn’t realise you were still speaking to me.’ He squints in the dim light of the hall and yawns. ‘What do you need?’
‘Nothing.’ I push the mug into his hands. ‘Just take this.’
‘What is it?’
I turn from him, shaking my head. ‘It’s nothing.’
But I don’t get far, a strong hand clamps down on my shoulder and his voice suddenly becomes rough and demanding in my ear. ‘Is this sleeping draught?’
I turn back to him but can’t bring myself to say anything.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To my room.’
‘No, you’re not.’ His grip tightens on my shoulder and he steers me into his room, shutting and locking the door behind us. He lights the lamp with a wave of his wand. ‘Sit,’ he commands, gesturing toward the bed. He sets my mug down on the mantel and tends to the fire.
But I don’t want to sit. Sitting will entail a lecture. I don’t want a lecture. Don’t need one. I can’t deal with another lecture. So instead, I move behind him, sliding my hands around his waist. He turns toward me.
‘What happened to your arm?’ he asks, pushing my sleeve up.
‘Giants,’ I whisper, pulling my hand back. Standing on tiptoe, I kiss the side of his face and down his neck.
Why won’t he touch me?
But his arms stay firmly at his sides. Running my hand through his hair, I kiss the side of his face again, up to his ear, flicking my tongue and letting the warmth of my breath wash over it. My other hand moves down over his abdomen and I slide the tips of my fingers into the waistband of his pyjamas.
He reacts. His hand is suddenly on the back of my neck, and he turns my head and kisses me hard. And it’s rough, and warm, and hungry and I can deal with this. His other hand slides into my robes over my ribs, under my bra, covering my breast with his callused palm. He undoes the clasps at the front of my robes with his wand and I let them slide to the floor. And then he’s propelling us back to the bed and he’s so warm and familiar and I can ... But then he’s pulling away, standing up, his breathing heavy.
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘No, I’m not playing.’
What? ‘Why? What did I do?’
‘Where’s the rest of it?’
‘Rest of what?’
‘You know damn well, what. They don’t sell it by the packet, Nymph!’
‘In my robes,’ I breathe, disappointed.
He picks my robes up off the floor and chucks them at me. ‘Give them to me.’
I dig around in my pockets until I find what I’m sure is the open box and hand it to him. He rips the top off the box and tips the contents onto his beside table. Four packets.
‘There are only four packets here.’
‘I can count.’
‘There’s a double dose in that mug, isn’t there?’ He points to it on the mantel, anger growing in his face.
‘It’s only two, Charlie. I’ve done two before. Two’s fine.’
‘No, it’s not fucking fine, Nymph! One isn’t fucking fine. Not for you.’ He’s just getting angry now, stepping backward to the wall. He always steps back. ‘You can’t have any. You’re addicted!’
‘I am not addic-’
‘Yes, you are!’
‘No ... I just...’
‘You just nothing, Nymph,’ he says, stepping toward me again. ‘You told me you weren’t sleeping the night we met for coffee. Fuck, I knew I should have asked more questions.’
‘Charlie...’
He grips the bedpost over my head. ‘Last weekend, in Sligo, did you leave so that you could go home and take it?’
‘No.’
‘Did you take it?’ He leans closer, standing over me, one hand in his hair.
‘Yes.’
‘Fuck!’ He spins away so quickly, for a moment I think he might punch the wall. But instead he hits it with open palms. Running both hands through his hair now, he takes a deep breath and turns back to me. ‘You should’ve just stayed with me. Why didn’t you just stay with me?’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Why the hell not!’
‘Because it’s too hard!’ I shoot back.
‘Too hard! Too hard! But killing yourself isn’t?’
‘Charlie, you broke my heart!’
God, I wish I hadn’t said that. Just the look on his face; I may as well have hit him.
And then it’s like we’re suspended in air, in a strange, never-ending silence, just staring at each other.
Charlie draws a deep breath and sets his jaw. ‘Nymph, we fought all the time.’
‘That's not true. Sometimes, maybe more but not all the time. And even if it were true, Charlie, that’s no reason...’ I twist my robes around my hands. Is he really that thick? Gawd, I shouldn’t have come here.
‘When two dragons meet, they do one of three things. The three F’s we call it. They either fight, fuck, or flee. I think that pretty much described our relationship at the end!’
He turns his back and walks away from me. Like the conversation is over. I should probably put my robes back on and go but I can’t let it go, can’t let him get away with that. Leaping off the bed I go after him.
‘As I recall you were really good at fucking and not just me.’
He stops dead and turns on me. ‘Are you going to punish me for that forever?’
‘No, ‘cause I don’t really give a flying fuck anymore, Charlie.’ The sound of my hand slapping against my thigh echoes in the room. ‘I don’t care that you shagged Gretchen or Greta or whatever the hell her name was.’
‘Amy.’
‘See, I don’t care. It’s not about that.’
‘Then what?’ He slumps down into the chair by the fire. ‘Tell me Nymph, ‘cause I don’t fucking know.’
There’s nowhere else to sit and at the moment I don’t think I could anyway, so I just keep moving. Pacing the floor in front of him. ‘We have this fabulous weekend together,’ I hear myself say, as my stomach begins turning itself into knots, ‘and that weekend starts me thinking that maybe, just maybe, things are getting better between us and then two weeks later ... Two weeks later Derek is in town and I meet him for drinks. He asks if I’m seeing anyone. I say “Still Charlie,” and he says “Oh,” and then goes quiet. Took me forever to get it out of him. You’d been seeing some blonde Australian researcher for a while now. Amy, I presume.’ Charlie buries his face in his hands and peers at me through his fingers. ‘So I sent you an owl,’ I continue. Charlie shuts his eyes. ‘I didn’t ask you outright, just my usual Monday owl. But I get no response and no response and no response. Finally, after a couple more weeks go by, I get a letter telling me that perhaps we should see other people. That you love me and you don’t want to stop seeing me but we live so far apart and you don’t want to hold me back. You put it all back on me, Charlie. And it was such tremendous bullshit. And I knew it.’
He raises his head and I back away. I don’t even want to look at him right now.
‘I’m sorry.’ He shakes his head and stands up. ‘I’m sorry, all right! I’m sorry about the letter. I’m sorry I fucked Amy and didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t fucking get it!’ I take another step backward and bump into the bed.
‘Get what? What else can I say!’
‘You were supposed to be my best friend! You were my best friend, Charlie! And you couldn't be honest with me.’ I smack my hand against the bedpost in frustration. Fuck, that hurts. But I don’t care. ‘I thought I was more to you than just a girl you used to fuck and it hurt like hell to find out that I wasn't!' My arm is throbbing now. I can’t do this. Can’t, can’t, can’t. I feel the tears in my eyes again and I’m not strong enough to stop them this time. I lean forward and find myself sinking to my knees on the floor.
Then he’s beside me. 'Please, don't ever say that, you are so much more to me.'
‘You told me we’d never be friends again,’ I whisper. I can feel the heat of his body as his arms envelop me, as he lifts me easily from the floor and lays me on his bed. In the warm indent in which his body lay not so long ago, before I so rudely interrupted him.
He covers me with the blankets, then walks around to the other side and crawls in behind me. He wraps both arms around him and pulls me back tightly against him. For a few minutes there's silence but then Charlie starts to talk, his voice little more than a whisper even in the quiet of the room.
'In the camps, we worked hard but we partied hard too. They were always in the clubs, always in and out of each others beds in the camp and I didn't because I had you. And for a long time that was enough. But... invitations kept coming. And everyone else seemed to be having so much fun.'
Invitations?
He keeps going, 'I started to think I was missing out on something. Started to resent that you were so far way. Amy was there and you weren't and I told myself that my life in the camp and my life at home could be separate. I believed it for a bit too. And it was foolish and it was self-serving and I didn't realise then how much I would regret it.' He threads his fingers though my hair, tightens his embrace and kisses my shoulder. 'When did I say we would never be friends?'
‘When I invited you to my party - the one I had when I completed training. You said you weren’t coming and it was foolish of me to think you and I could ever be friends.’
I feel his soft breath on the side of my face. 'I did, didn't I? Fuck...'
I nod.
I watch him press his right thumb against the round scar on the palm of his left hand and close his fingers around it. He draws his breath in deeply and lets it out slowly, like he's trying to regulate his breathing. Why?
'Charlie?'
'I went to your party,' he whispers against my hair.
'What?'
'I went to your party.'
'When? Why?'
'I wanted to see you. Wanted to talk to you. It was late. I stood by the spiked gate between the garden and the woods - where I always stood waiting for you to sneak me in - where I could see directly into your bedroom...
Fuck. I know what he's going to say and I don't want him to say it. I screw my eyes tight shut in anticipation.
'I saw you... with him. Saw him... with you...'
The knot is back in my stomach, tighter than before. I hate the pain in his voice, the--
'He changed your hair...'
I don't remember.
'Charlie, we had so much to drink and I--'
He presses his lips hard against my neck, behind my ear before he continues. 'And... I knew then, right then, what I had done.'
His right hand releases his left and he holds it up - shiny round scars front and back.
'Garden gate behind your parents' house - nearly three years ago.'
No. No. No. No, No.
I feel myself pull away from him, feel my whole body contract - I draw my knees up, curling myself around them. 'Charlie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'
'No, Nymph. Don't'
I feel his hands slide over me as he rolls me over, then his fingers on the sides of my face and I raise my head to look at him. 'Charlie, I'm--' I begin again. But his eyes lock mine and he shakes his head at me.
'Don't apologise. Do not apologise to me. I am the bastard in this piece. You did nothing wrong. You did nothing.'
But he doesn't understand and I don't want him to. The only reason that I was drinking with Adrian, the only reason that any of that ever happened is because I was so angry with Charlie. I wanted vengence. And now... I know... I got it. And I hate this feeling. I can't believe that he did that. I hate that I've hurt him this much.
He pulls me to him and I bury my face in his chest. My hands pull at his t-shirt, seeking out the warmth of his skin beneath it, sliding them up his back and pulling myself closer, as close as I can get. His arms tighten around me. So tight, like he might crush me. We lie like this for ages and ages, wrapped around each other, neither of us willing to let go. Then he kisses my temple and again and again. Pulling back, I look up at him, there are tears in his eyes and I can’t remember the last time I saw him cry. His hands cup my face and he brushes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.
‘You fell into my lap on the train,’ he says, smiling at me. ‘And I thought you were odd, and pretty, and funny and I knew then that I wanted to know you.’
I laugh at the memory. I was so scared that day, so nervous until I met Charlie and Bill. ‘I wanted to know you, too. Any boy that helps me load my trunk onto the rack, after I’ve fallen on him, must be worth knowing. And then you traded me half your egg salad sandwich for half my tuna fish. So I had to like you, really.’
‘I hate egg salad.’
‘I know.’ I laugh some more, which only makes more tears come; which doesn’t make any sense.
‘Why did you come to me?’ he asks, his voice soft against my ear.
‘What?’
‘Why did you come to me? After everything that’s happened, everything we’ve been through, why me?’
‘Hard to explain.’
‘Try.’
'I needed to run away. I needed to run... back in time. I needed... to feel safe.'
'Safe?'
I nod. ‘Do you remember when I was fourteen and my cousin Sean was killed on his motorbike?’
‘Yes,’ he says, squeezing my shoulders. Sean meant the world to me.
‘We stayed on the sofa in the your common room all night. McGonagall and Sprout knew we were there but they also knew what had happened and they let us stay.’
‘They did.’
‘We had a big blanket and you made us tea.’
‘Sorry,’ he says.
‘But you didn’t ask me any questions. You didn’t try and get me to talk. You never complained. You were just you. You just sat beside me, made me god-awful tea and stayed with me all night.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘So I suppose ... I couldn’t think of anywhere else, anyone else...’
‘More of a gentleman at fourteen than I am at twenty-four.’
‘Nonsense. I needed you that night and you indulged me. Besides, if I remember correctly, I made the first move.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ He shakes his head.
‘I didn’t?’ I pull myself up onto my elbow to look down at him.
‘No. I took your top off.’
‘You did. That’s right. But I don't consider that was the first move.'
‘You don't?'’
Sliding back down, I settle myself against his chest once more. ‘No. I kissed you.’
‘You did.’ He takes a deep breath and squeezes me again. He kisses my forehead again and silence once more fills the room. All I can hear is the soft sounds of his breathing and the fire crackling happily to itself.
‘Where does all this leave us?’ I ask the darkness.
‘I dunno,’ Charlie whispers, kissing my temple. ‘But if you'll let me, I would really love to be your friend again.’
'Charlie, I think you already are.'
*
Charlie has been asleep for two hours when I slide out of bed. It’s just before six in the morning and I’m not really sure if I slept at all. Not for any length of time, anyway. My eyes ache and I can’t stop yawning. Still, I’ve got to be at work for seven. I push my hands into the pockets of my robes and finger my final box of sleeping draught. For a moment I consider placing it on his bedside table with the other one. But I don’t. I think I’ll keep it. I’m not ready to part with it just yet.
I slip out of the door, close it quietly behind me and turn, only to come face to face with a figure on the stairs, the dim light of the corridor reflecting in his solemn expression.
Remus.
Author: me- pandorajones
Parings: Tonks/OMC, Tonks/Charlie, Tonks/Remus
Rated: NC-17
Summary: What she sees as a terrible mistake at The Department of Mysteries is followed by a poor choice a few days later.
Tonk's Life begins to spiral out of control.
Warnings: adult themes , violent imagery.
Chapter 11: Crossroads
*
Lionel’s Licentious Libations Liberator: All purpose hangover remedy and spot remover. “We’ll pick you up off the floor and we’ll even help you clean up the mess!”
Lionel’s, unfortunately, contains a form of nightshade extract, the same form contained in Sleeping Potion, and therefore, I am forbidden from taking Lionel’s. Bugger. Had I known that last night I may not have had quite so much to drink. I flick the box back across the table to Remus.
Remus has had his potion. Remus is right as rain. And smiling about it too. Bastard.
‘Still don’t know why we had to come all the way back here for breakfast,’ I whine, just so he knows I didn’t appreciate having to get up and drag myself back to Headquarters at half eight this morning.
‘Because,’ Remus answers, helping himself to another slice of toast, ‘there is a subtle difference between actual bacon and bacon flavoured Pot Noodle, that you may not be aware of.’
‘Stay out of my pantry.’
He laughs. ‘In calling it that, one would assume it’s a place where food is kept. This is not the case. I’ll have some of those sausages, Molly.’
Molly, who has been hovering over us with the frying pan, chuckles and slides sausages onto Remus’s plate and, as if to prove his point, drops a pile of bacon onto mine.
‘I don’t think I can eat.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she says, adding eggs and tomatoes to my plate. ‘The best thing for you this morning is a good strong breakfast. You’ll feel better.’
‘And drink your water,’ Remus adds, pushing my glass closer to me.
‘I’d rather a giant coffee and my bed.’
‘Nonsense, you’d only feel sick for longer. No good to anyone then.’ She shakes her head at Remus. ‘Honestly, getting her drunk, she’s still recovering...’
At first I think Remus may spit out his sausage but he chokes it down. ‘Me! I assure you, Molly, she needed no help from me on that account.’
‘Madam Pomfrey says I’m fine, Molly. Good as new. Besides,’ I nod toward Remus, ‘he needed a bit of fun.’
‘Did I?’ He raises an eyebrow at me as I shovel bacon and egg into my mouth.
Chew. Swallow. ‘You did. Molly, you should have seen all the women lined up for a snog.’
Molly looks a little shocked but dead interested.
‘And were any of them lucky enough...’ she doesn’t quite ask.
’No-’ I begin.
‘One was ... lucky.’ He grins.
I want to shout “Lucky?” across the table at him but doing so would only mean more questions from Molly, so I have to be content with mouthing it at him. My mouth is full of breakfast but it serves him right.
‘So you had fun then, did you?’ Molly asks.
‘We did,’ I answer after swallowing.
Remus just nods between mouthfuls of sausage. Molly, for some reason, looks pleased as punch. For a moment I think she might ruffle his hair.
‘Thanks so much for breakfast, Molly,’ I say, finishing my tomato and picking up my toast. ‘Hate to eat and run but I’ve got to meet Mad-Eye.’
‘Where are you off to today?’ Remus asks, opening his paper.
‘Can’t remember exactly. Somewhere in Devon.’
‘Be safe.’ Molly picks up my empty plate and piles it on the tray with the other dirty ones.
‘Always, Molly. I’m with Mad-Eye, constant vigilance and all that.’
I pause only to drink the rest of my water, making sure Remus watches. Molly, after clearing his plate, takes her tray to the kitchen. As soon as she leaves the room, Remus looks up at me.
‘Lucky girl.’
‘Lucky? Really? I was under the impression that I didn’t count.’
‘You don’t.’
‘Yet here you are counting it in front of Molly.’
‘Just telling her what she wanted to hear.’
‘Mmmm. Right.’ Picking up my cloak from the back of my chair, I turn to go. But I can’t help looking over my shoulder as I do and adding, ‘Made you blush.’
I hear the crack of his newspaper as he turns the page and then a soft chuckle. ‘Oh, shut up, Xena.’
***
Giants in the West Country.
Fucking giants in the fucking West Country. Uprooting trees, ripping roofs off houses, hurling cars, redirecting rivers. A mess. Five Muggles dead, more than a hundred injured; seven witches and wizards in St Mungo’s tonight; thirty odd not-so-serious injuries. I’ve got a nasty gash on my arm that had to be bandaged but other than that I’m fine. Luckily, I can move a hell of a lot faster than the average giant; even one swinging a tree.
Suppose we’re lucky more people weren’t killed.
Moody and I were in Teignmouth this morning looking for Morris Minor, another wizard on the Ministry’s wanted list, hoping to add more reward money to the Order’s coffers. Word reached us rather quickly that all hell was breaking loose.
There were only two of them but two giants can do a lot of damage in a very small amount of time. Dawlish, Kelly and Proudfoot were already there along with a handful of others. Dawlish asked me how it was I got there so quickly; he’d only just sent word and wasn’t I off today anyway? I told him I was but had been visiting a friend nearby and thought he could use the help. I think he’s rather impressed with me now.
He didn’t ask why Moody was there. Nobody ever questions Moody, they just stay out of his way. What a day. And here I was hoping for a quiet afternoon just me and my nausea.
Looking forward to being back here tonight though, just relaxing, curling up in front of the fire with a hot drink. I’ll read a book ... or be read one. I’d like that. Perhaps I can convince Remus to do that again.
Molly is the only occupant of the pub-room. She sits by the fire, knitting something with maroon wool.
‘Hi,’ I say, slumping down in the chair opposite, stretching my toes out toward the flames.
‘Hello, dear.’
‘Is that for Ron?’
‘Yes. The boy’s growing so much, it’s hard to keep up.’
‘How is he doing?’
‘He’ll be out of the hospital wing soon. Able to rejoin his classmates.’
‘They’ll be back next week, won’t they?’
‘Yes, and there’s still so much to do. With Arthur working so much now, and I’ve hardly been home. You’ve just missed Arthur. He only managed to pop in for a late supper and he was off again. Are you hungry at all? I can knock you up something if you like, egg and chips?
‘No, I’m all right, thanks. Is Remus here?’
‘No, he’s in Hogsmeade tonight, for Dumbledore.’
‘Oh.’ Shit. I can feel the panic beginning to rise in me. My chest instantly tightens and I can suddenly feel my heartbeat in my ears. Shit, shit, shit, shit. He’s helped me so much these past few days, can I really do without him? Of course I can. Being silly. Not as if I can sleep in his bed forever. He’s probably quite sick of me by now anyway. I shake my head. Being an idiot.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ Molly asks, making me jump and tear my gaze from the fire. I hadn’t realised I was staring into the flames. Little orange lights dance before my eyes as I look at her.
‘Yes. I’m fine,’ I say, shrugging my shoulders and trying to look fine.
‘He’ll be back first thing in the morning.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’ Pulling myself up out of the chair, I turn to go.
‘He’s reachable; you can owl him if you like.’ Molly smiles up at me, not pausing for a moment in her knitting.
‘No. It’s all right. It’s not important.’
But part of me really wants to send that owl. That would really be stupid, wouldn’t it? Remus could you please drop what you’re doing and return to London, Nymphadora can’t sleep.
How pathetic am I?
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Molly says softly.
‘Yes. Actually, I think I’m going to take a walk. Some of the lads from work were meeting at the Leaky. Think I’ll join them.’
‘All right, dear. Be safe. And it’s probably not a good idea to have a repeat of last night. Just saying.’
‘I know. I won’t. Night, Molly.’
‘Good night.’
*
It’s raining again, just for a change. Seems to always be raining now, raining and cold. Feels like November. Mad-Eye says the Dementors are breeding. That’s just a creepy thought in itself, more of those horrible creatures. Just the thought of it gives me gooseflesh.
The rain makes the lights of the Palace Theatre look all fuzzy as I turn into Charing Cross Road and begin the short walk to the Leaky Cauldron. It’s pretty though. I’ve always liked the rain at night. Unless, of course, I’m working in it.
A lot of people seem to have the same idea as I do tonight. But then, on a cold and rainy night there are few better places than a pub, with roaring fires, good food, and steaming Butterbeer. The place smells like a bakeshop, a tobacconist’s and a brewery all rolled into one and it’s lovely. It is also packed. I slip through the crowd, making for our usual table in the far corner, and find the same Ministry singletons that are here on any given Friday. The table, also as usual, is laden with steaming jugs of Butterbeer, a couple of bottles of Ogden’s and every type of greasy finger food imaginable.
‘Look what the Kneazle dragged in,’ Harris laughs.
‘Thought you weren’t coming,’ Kingsley says, as I duck under his arm to reach the empty seat against the wall. A mug is put in front of me almost instantly and a steaming jug of Butterbeer is pushed across the table in my direction.
‘Wasn’t going to; changed my mind.’ Filling my mug, I take a long sip, and shiver from my head to my toes. Lovely stuff.
‘Honestly, Tonks,’ Kelly pipes up, ‘when I saw that tree come down today I thought you were under it.’
‘Who me? Never. Far too quick for that. Nice black eye by the way. How long were you out for?’
‘You were out? Thought you said he just clipped you?’ Kingsley laughs, a rich, rolling sound that works with the Butterbeer to warm me.
‘Thanks, Tonks,’ Kelly says with a good-natured grin. ‘Thanks a lot.’
‘Anytime, Kels.’
Kingsley is still laughing.
‘Hey, at least I was there.’ Kelly smirks at him.
‘Yes, Mr Shacklebolt,’ I grin, ‘I did notice your absence today. Care to tell us why?’
‘Scrimgeour has singled him out. Given him a special tasking,’ comes a gruff voice from a bit further down the table as Salinger joins our conversation.
‘Special tasking? Where?’ Got both Kels and I interested now.
‘I’d tell you...’ Kingsley grins smugly to the whole group. ‘But then I’d have to kill you.’
‘How is it?’ Really I’m hoping to garner a bit more information.
‘Not bad, I can see it becoming a bit tedious, but not bad.’
‘So you think it’s going to be Scrimgeour then, for the new Minister?’ Kelly asks hopefully.
Kingsley nods. ‘Looks that way, it’s just a matter of time.’
‘Hey, Salinger,’ Harris calls down the table as he empties the jug into his goblet. ‘The jugs are empty.’
‘Really, is it me again already?’
‘I’ll get it,’ I say standing. ‘I haven’t bought a round yet.’
‘Tonks, Tonks, Tonks, Tonks!’ Comes a roar of approval from the table.
‘Calm down, I’ll be right back. And don’t let Harris have the last of those cheese claws. I want those.’ I slip past Kingsley again and through the crowded pub to the bar. I place my order, and try and make my way back to the table. Knowing Tom the drinks will arrive before I do. I’m almost there when suddenly Dawlish appears in front of me.
‘Tonks, just the person I wanted to see. Excellent work today, just excellent.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Just telling my colleagues what a hectic day we’ve had. Dawlish jerks his thumb toward a tall man standing behind him. ‘Tonks, have you met Jon Hammond?’
Oh ... fuck.
My heart leaps to my throat as Jon turns toward me.
Jon, this is Miss Tonks, one of the Ministry’s youngest Aurors. She did some wonderful work today.’
Jon nods. ‘We’ve met,’ he says coldly, looking somewhere over my head.
‘Splendid,’ Dawlish mutters, oblivious to the tension between Jon and me. ‘Ah, there’s Bagman, just have to rub it in about the Wasps spectacular loss to Manchester. Back in a mo.’
And he’s gone.
I stand looking Jon square in the chest. Too scared really to look him in the face. What I’m sure is only a few moments, seems like forever. When I do finally raise my eyes, he’s looking at me. What do I say? Where do I start?
‘What did you do to your arm?’ he asks, and I look down, just now realising that I probably should have changed clothes. My sleeve is ripped to the elbow and the white bandage is showing.
‘Giant hit me with a tree,’ I answer truthfully. Rather melodramatic version of the truth but the truth nonetheless. Doesn’t get much of a reaction.
‘You all right?’ he asks, in the same even tone.
I nod.
‘Good.’
‘Jon ... I just...’
He shakes his head. ‘I have nothing more to say to you. I’m glad you’re all right. Goodnight, Tonks.’ And he’s gone. Moving away, quickly disappearing in the sea of robes that surround me. Fuck.
Back at the table, I am greeted with an enthusiastic ‘Cheers’ from those enjoying more Butterbeer and whisky. I top up my mug, pick up a cheese claw and bite into it carefully. Always so good but the cheese in the middle is like molten lava, it’s so hot. They laugh and joke around me and, although I get a few good jabs in, I can’t help feeling a bit removed from it all, like an observer rather than a participant. Every now and again I think I glimpse Jon through the crowd. And every time I do it hurts. If I shut my eyes I can hear his voice in my head, ‘Did you sleep with him? Fucking answer me Tonks!’ my quiet ‘Yes,’ and then the sound of his mug shattering against the wall.
I want to be able to say I’m sorry. I want him to know that I mean it. I never wanted to hurt him. That I never meant to.
‘All right, Tonks? You look a bit dazed,’ Kingsley asks, elbowing me gently.
‘Fine. Just tired. Should probably go home, actually.’
‘Oh, come on, stay.’
‘Don’t think I can. I’m liable to fall asleep at the table.’
‘All right then,’ he says, as I duck under his arm.
‘Night,’ I call to the table and wave.
‘Night,’ they answer.
*
If I go back to Headquarters it means going to bed. If I go to bed and I can’t sleep, what do I do then? No Remus tonight, no Charlie, just me. So, instead of Charing Cross Road, I find myself standing in Diagon Alley, staring down the dark street at the only shop that’s still open: McGlacken’s All Sorts. It stays open almost all night. Convenient for the witch or wizard who needs to pick up a pint of milk, or a bar of chocolate, or a headache remedy...
…Or a sleeping draught.
I know I shouldn’t do it even as I push the front door open and the bell tinkles above me. But I do it anyway. Walk to the back of the shop; I know exactly where it is. They always have blackcurrant flavour. And I find myself picking up two boxes before heading to the counter to pay.
Just for tonight. Just in case.
Then why two boxes?
The bell tinkles above me again on the way out, a little blue box in each of my pockets. Honestly, I feel a little better, a bit scared but better.
It’s less than ten minutes back to Headquarters. There’s no one downstairs when I get in. So I put the kettle on, pick out a mug, sit by the fire and pull a small, blue box from my pocket. It looks so unassuming, with its little twinkling stars and the darling drawing of a sleepy sheep in a nightcap. I flip the box over to read the warnings on the back for the first time. Do not take if you have any of the following conditions: blah, blah, blah. Do not take for more than three consecutive nights. If insomnia persists consult a healer. DO NOT EXCEED RECOMMENDED DOSAGE. May be habit-forming.
Habit. I like that word better.
The kettle begins to whistle.
I take it from the hearth and put it on the table beside me. Break the seal on the box. Take out one packet. Just one. I have twelve. Look around the room to be sure I am alone. Tear packet open. Tip purple powder into mug. Pour water. It bubbles and fizzles and I lean over it feeling the heat on my face. I love that smell.
But one won’t be enough. I know it won’t.
I slide another packet out of the little blue box. Just two. Two is all right; I’ve done two before. Tearing off the top of the next packet, I watch as the powder drops to the surface of the liquid and dissolves. It all bubbles and spurts furiously. I stir it with my wand tip, then fold the empty packets carefully and throw them into the fire. The box, I return to my pocket.
I’d better go up to bed. It’s very quiet down here now but there’s no guarantee that it will stay that way.
My boots make a hollow noise on the stairs as I walk up.
Will two be enough? What if it’s like last time? What if it doesn’t work?
If it doesn’t work… I don’t know.
And I don’t know what to do. It’s odd, to be terrified of lying down and shutting my eyes. But I’m shaking; I’m fucking shaking. This is so stupid.
The hollow clunk of my boots slows and stops. I can feel tears burning behind my eyes. But I can’t help telling myself to just suck it up. It’s just for tonight. Things will be better in the morning.
Will they?
I have another ten packets of sleeping potion in my robes. I don’t need that many. Four should do it.
Stop it.
Wiping my hand across my eyes, I take a long, deep breath and look up. Door number twelve looms before me. There is no light coming from under it. Charlie’s not here. He left Wednesday.
If I knock ... If I knock and he is here, I’ll give him my mug. If not, I’ll continue to my room. Crossing the landing, I rap swiftly on the door. Nothing. No light, no noise. Thought as much.
I jump when it swings open before me.
I’ve woken him up. He yawns, running a hand across his face and into his hair.
‘Hi,’ he says sleepily.
‘Hi,’ I whisper. ‘I didn’t think you’d be here.’
‘And I didn’t realise you were still speaking to me.’ He squints in the dim light of the hall and yawns. ‘What do you need?’
‘Nothing.’ I push the mug into his hands. ‘Just take this.’
‘What is it?’
I turn from him, shaking my head. ‘It’s nothing.’
But I don’t get far, a strong hand clamps down on my shoulder and his voice suddenly becomes rough and demanding in my ear. ‘Is this sleeping draught?’
I turn back to him but can’t bring myself to say anything.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To my room.’
‘No, you’re not.’ His grip tightens on my shoulder and he steers me into his room, shutting and locking the door behind us. He lights the lamp with a wave of his wand. ‘Sit,’ he commands, gesturing toward the bed. He sets my mug down on the mantel and tends to the fire.
But I don’t want to sit. Sitting will entail a lecture. I don’t want a lecture. Don’t need one. I can’t deal with another lecture. So instead, I move behind him, sliding my hands around his waist. He turns toward me.
‘What happened to your arm?’ he asks, pushing my sleeve up.
‘Giants,’ I whisper, pulling my hand back. Standing on tiptoe, I kiss the side of his face and down his neck.
Why won’t he touch me?
But his arms stay firmly at his sides. Running my hand through his hair, I kiss the side of his face again, up to his ear, flicking my tongue and letting the warmth of my breath wash over it. My other hand moves down over his abdomen and I slide the tips of my fingers into the waistband of his pyjamas.
He reacts. His hand is suddenly on the back of my neck, and he turns my head and kisses me hard. And it’s rough, and warm, and hungry and I can deal with this. His other hand slides into my robes over my ribs, under my bra, covering my breast with his callused palm. He undoes the clasps at the front of my robes with his wand and I let them slide to the floor. And then he’s propelling us back to the bed and he’s so warm and familiar and I can ... But then he’s pulling away, standing up, his breathing heavy.
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘No, I’m not playing.’
What? ‘Why? What did I do?’
‘Where’s the rest of it?’
‘Rest of what?’
‘You know damn well, what. They don’t sell it by the packet, Nymph!’
‘In my robes,’ I breathe, disappointed.
He picks my robes up off the floor and chucks them at me. ‘Give them to me.’
I dig around in my pockets until I find what I’m sure is the open box and hand it to him. He rips the top off the box and tips the contents onto his beside table. Four packets.
‘There are only four packets here.’
‘I can count.’
‘There’s a double dose in that mug, isn’t there?’ He points to it on the mantel, anger growing in his face.
‘It’s only two, Charlie. I’ve done two before. Two’s fine.’
‘No, it’s not fucking fine, Nymph! One isn’t fucking fine. Not for you.’ He’s just getting angry now, stepping backward to the wall. He always steps back. ‘You can’t have any. You’re addicted!’
‘I am not addic-’
‘Yes, you are!’
‘No ... I just...’
‘You just nothing, Nymph,’ he says, stepping toward me again. ‘You told me you weren’t sleeping the night we met for coffee. Fuck, I knew I should have asked more questions.’
‘Charlie...’
He grips the bedpost over my head. ‘Last weekend, in Sligo, did you leave so that you could go home and take it?’
‘No.’
‘Did you take it?’ He leans closer, standing over me, one hand in his hair.
‘Yes.’
‘Fuck!’ He spins away so quickly, for a moment I think he might punch the wall. But instead he hits it with open palms. Running both hands through his hair now, he takes a deep breath and turns back to me. ‘You should’ve just stayed with me. Why didn’t you just stay with me?’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Why the hell not!’
‘Because it’s too hard!’ I shoot back.
‘Too hard! Too hard! But killing yourself isn’t?’
‘Charlie, you broke my heart!’
God, I wish I hadn’t said that. Just the look on his face; I may as well have hit him.
And then it’s like we’re suspended in air, in a strange, never-ending silence, just staring at each other.
Charlie draws a deep breath and sets his jaw. ‘Nymph, we fought all the time.’
‘That's not true. Sometimes, maybe more but not all the time. And even if it were true, Charlie, that’s no reason...’ I twist my robes around my hands. Is he really that thick? Gawd, I shouldn’t have come here.
‘When two dragons meet, they do one of three things. The three F’s we call it. They either fight, fuck, or flee. I think that pretty much described our relationship at the end!’
He turns his back and walks away from me. Like the conversation is over. I should probably put my robes back on and go but I can’t let it go, can’t let him get away with that. Leaping off the bed I go after him.
‘As I recall you were really good at fucking and not just me.’
He stops dead and turns on me. ‘Are you going to punish me for that forever?’
‘No, ‘cause I don’t really give a flying fuck anymore, Charlie.’ The sound of my hand slapping against my thigh echoes in the room. ‘I don’t care that you shagged Gretchen or Greta or whatever the hell her name was.’
‘Amy.’
‘See, I don’t care. It’s not about that.’
‘Then what?’ He slumps down into the chair by the fire. ‘Tell me Nymph, ‘cause I don’t fucking know.’
There’s nowhere else to sit and at the moment I don’t think I could anyway, so I just keep moving. Pacing the floor in front of him. ‘We have this fabulous weekend together,’ I hear myself say, as my stomach begins turning itself into knots, ‘and that weekend starts me thinking that maybe, just maybe, things are getting better between us and then two weeks later ... Two weeks later Derek is in town and I meet him for drinks. He asks if I’m seeing anyone. I say “Still Charlie,” and he says “Oh,” and then goes quiet. Took me forever to get it out of him. You’d been seeing some blonde Australian researcher for a while now. Amy, I presume.’ Charlie buries his face in his hands and peers at me through his fingers. ‘So I sent you an owl,’ I continue. Charlie shuts his eyes. ‘I didn’t ask you outright, just my usual Monday owl. But I get no response and no response and no response. Finally, after a couple more weeks go by, I get a letter telling me that perhaps we should see other people. That you love me and you don’t want to stop seeing me but we live so far apart and you don’t want to hold me back. You put it all back on me, Charlie. And it was such tremendous bullshit. And I knew it.’
He raises his head and I back away. I don’t even want to look at him right now.
‘I’m sorry.’ He shakes his head and stands up. ‘I’m sorry, all right! I’m sorry about the letter. I’m sorry I fucked Amy and didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t fucking get it!’ I take another step backward and bump into the bed.
‘Get what? What else can I say!’
‘You were supposed to be my best friend! You were my best friend, Charlie! And you couldn't be honest with me.’ I smack my hand against the bedpost in frustration. Fuck, that hurts. But I don’t care. ‘I thought I was more to you than just a girl you used to fuck and it hurt like hell to find out that I wasn't!' My arm is throbbing now. I can’t do this. Can’t, can’t, can’t. I feel the tears in my eyes again and I’m not strong enough to stop them this time. I lean forward and find myself sinking to my knees on the floor.
Then he’s beside me. 'Please, don't ever say that, you are so much more to me.'
‘You told me we’d never be friends again,’ I whisper. I can feel the heat of his body as his arms envelop me, as he lifts me easily from the floor and lays me on his bed. In the warm indent in which his body lay not so long ago, before I so rudely interrupted him.
He covers me with the blankets, then walks around to the other side and crawls in behind me. He wraps both arms around him and pulls me back tightly against him. For a few minutes there's silence but then Charlie starts to talk, his voice little more than a whisper even in the quiet of the room.
'In the camps, we worked hard but we partied hard too. They were always in the clubs, always in and out of each others beds in the camp and I didn't because I had you. And for a long time that was enough. But... invitations kept coming. And everyone else seemed to be having so much fun.'
Invitations?
He keeps going, 'I started to think I was missing out on something. Started to resent that you were so far way. Amy was there and you weren't and I told myself that my life in the camp and my life at home could be separate. I believed it for a bit too. And it was foolish and it was self-serving and I didn't realise then how much I would regret it.' He threads his fingers though my hair, tightens his embrace and kisses my shoulder. 'When did I say we would never be friends?'
‘When I invited you to my party - the one I had when I completed training. You said you weren’t coming and it was foolish of me to think you and I could ever be friends.’
I feel his soft breath on the side of my face. 'I did, didn't I? Fuck...'
I nod.
I watch him press his right thumb against the round scar on the palm of his left hand and close his fingers around it. He draws his breath in deeply and lets it out slowly, like he's trying to regulate his breathing. Why?
'Charlie?'
'I went to your party,' he whispers against my hair.
'What?'
'I went to your party.'
'When? Why?'
'I wanted to see you. Wanted to talk to you. It was late. I stood by the spiked gate between the garden and the woods - where I always stood waiting for you to sneak me in - where I could see directly into your bedroom...
Fuck. I know what he's going to say and I don't want him to say it. I screw my eyes tight shut in anticipation.
'I saw you... with him. Saw him... with you...'
The knot is back in my stomach, tighter than before. I hate the pain in his voice, the--
'He changed your hair...'
I don't remember.
'Charlie, we had so much to drink and I--'
He presses his lips hard against my neck, behind my ear before he continues. 'And... I knew then, right then, what I had done.'
His right hand releases his left and he holds it up - shiny round scars front and back.
'Garden gate behind your parents' house - nearly three years ago.'
No. No. No. No, No.
I feel myself pull away from him, feel my whole body contract - I draw my knees up, curling myself around them. 'Charlie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'
'No, Nymph. Don't'
I feel his hands slide over me as he rolls me over, then his fingers on the sides of my face and I raise my head to look at him. 'Charlie, I'm--' I begin again. But his eyes lock mine and he shakes his head at me.
'Don't apologise. Do not apologise to me. I am the bastard in this piece. You did nothing wrong. You did nothing.'
But he doesn't understand and I don't want him to. The only reason that I was drinking with Adrian, the only reason that any of that ever happened is because I was so angry with Charlie. I wanted vengence. And now... I know... I got it. And I hate this feeling. I can't believe that he did that. I hate that I've hurt him this much.
He pulls me to him and I bury my face in his chest. My hands pull at his t-shirt, seeking out the warmth of his skin beneath it, sliding them up his back and pulling myself closer, as close as I can get. His arms tighten around me. So tight, like he might crush me. We lie like this for ages and ages, wrapped around each other, neither of us willing to let go. Then he kisses my temple and again and again. Pulling back, I look up at him, there are tears in his eyes and I can’t remember the last time I saw him cry. His hands cup my face and he brushes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.
‘You fell into my lap on the train,’ he says, smiling at me. ‘And I thought you were odd, and pretty, and funny and I knew then that I wanted to know you.’
I laugh at the memory. I was so scared that day, so nervous until I met Charlie and Bill. ‘I wanted to know you, too. Any boy that helps me load my trunk onto the rack, after I’ve fallen on him, must be worth knowing. And then you traded me half your egg salad sandwich for half my tuna fish. So I had to like you, really.’
‘I hate egg salad.’
‘I know.’ I laugh some more, which only makes more tears come; which doesn’t make any sense.
‘Why did you come to me?’ he asks, his voice soft against my ear.
‘What?’
‘Why did you come to me? After everything that’s happened, everything we’ve been through, why me?’
‘Hard to explain.’
‘Try.’
'I needed to run away. I needed to run... back in time. I needed... to feel safe.'
'Safe?'
I nod. ‘Do you remember when I was fourteen and my cousin Sean was killed on his motorbike?’
‘Yes,’ he says, squeezing my shoulders. Sean meant the world to me.
‘We stayed on the sofa in the your common room all night. McGonagall and Sprout knew we were there but they also knew what had happened and they let us stay.’
‘They did.’
‘We had a big blanket and you made us tea.’
‘Sorry,’ he says.
‘But you didn’t ask me any questions. You didn’t try and get me to talk. You never complained. You were just you. You just sat beside me, made me god-awful tea and stayed with me all night.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘So I suppose ... I couldn’t think of anywhere else, anyone else...’
‘More of a gentleman at fourteen than I am at twenty-four.’
‘Nonsense. I needed you that night and you indulged me. Besides, if I remember correctly, I made the first move.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ He shakes his head.
‘I didn’t?’ I pull myself up onto my elbow to look down at him.
‘No. I took your top off.’
‘You did. That’s right. But I don't consider that was the first move.'
‘You don't?'’
Sliding back down, I settle myself against his chest once more. ‘No. I kissed you.’
‘You did.’ He takes a deep breath and squeezes me again. He kisses my forehead again and silence once more fills the room. All I can hear is the soft sounds of his breathing and the fire crackling happily to itself.
‘Where does all this leave us?’ I ask the darkness.
‘I dunno,’ Charlie whispers, kissing my temple. ‘But if you'll let me, I would really love to be your friend again.’
'Charlie, I think you already are.'
*
Charlie has been asleep for two hours when I slide out of bed. It’s just before six in the morning and I’m not really sure if I slept at all. Not for any length of time, anyway. My eyes ache and I can’t stop yawning. Still, I’ve got to be at work for seven. I push my hands into the pockets of my robes and finger my final box of sleeping draught. For a moment I consider placing it on his bedside table with the other one. But I don’t. I think I’ll keep it. I’m not ready to part with it just yet.
I slip out of the door, close it quietly behind me and turn, only to come face to face with a figure on the stairs, the dim light of the corridor reflecting in his solemn expression.
Remus.