Fidelius
Title: Fidelius
Author: nfwbls
Format & Word Count: fic, ~3650 words
Rating: PG
Prompt: prompts #15, #20 (picture of cigarette and glass, “People are like stained-glass windows...” Elisabeth Kubler-Ross)
Warning: none
Summary: Dumbledore performs a special version of the Fidelius charm on Remus and Tonks in preparation for Remus' mission to spy on the werewolves
Author's Note: This is the first chapter of what is supposed to be a work in progress which explores an alternate explanation for the Remus/Tonks relationship in HBP. It's not meant to be AU, but it invents a premise for their relationship moving beyond the platonic that also explains Tonks' patronus change, and sets up Tonks to be Remus' Order contact for his mission to join Fenrir's pack. It's the first chapter alluded to in a piece I did for the last ficathon called Burn. (Apologies to mrstater who kindly offered to beta this a year ago - Lisa I was going to ask you but then I ran out of time and gilpin25 unintentionally made me feel guilty for letting it languish so I thought I'd post it before I lost my nerve)
"Please, hold hands across the table." Dumbledore used his wand to light the candle between them. In the flickering glow, Remus' eyes were shuttered and wary; Tonks', curious and eager. "As I perform the charm, Nymphadora, you may become a bit disoriented. It is important that you remain in physical contact with Remus." Tonks grimaced at the hated name and her expression drew a reluctant smile from the werewolf which disappeared as quickly as it had come.
The elderly wizard began to chant an incantation, and as the words flowed over her, Tonks felt as if she was being immersed in warm, heavy water; the sounds around her deadened, superseded by the low thrum of her pulse as the corona of the candle flame rippled in her vision. She watched as a shimmery tendril wriggled its way out of Remus' temple and slithered through the air like a sinuous eel, blindly searching for her. It's beautiful, she thought in surprise, not at all like the stuff in a pensieve. Those ghostly vapours of memory had always reminded her of sepulchral rags, but there was nothing grave-like in this golden thread; it exuded life and purpose and, inexplicably, conviction.
Just before it touched her, she steeled herself for the faint tingle that accompanied the application of a Fidelius charm. It wasn't a painful sensation but in the past she'd always found it vaguely uncomfortable, like a claustrophobic prickle on the back of her neck that made her suddenly conscious of standing in a too-small room, untouched by any walls but unable to fling her arms wide with abandon. She wondered if the spell would feel different as the keeper.
There was a tickle on her brow and then, unexpectedly, a piercing sensation, like a cold needle slicing not quite effortlessly through her skin and into her brain. She gasped; it was unpleasant and for a moment her hands jerked and almost pulled themselves out of Remus' grasp, but his fingers tightened around her wrists, maintaining contact. She breathed deeply, willing herself to relax, and his grip loosened again. The needle turned into an icicle, cold enough to burn, and the river of ice flowed through her head and down her spine, filled her chest so that it was hard to expand her lungs properly, and then pushed itself down her arms and out her fingertips back into his skin, completing the circuit. This time it is her fingers that clench and pull his hands closer, and his breath that breaks in a raspy gasp.
Her vision doubled, the candlelight and faces of the two wizards overlaid with a vision of the same room, the same two men, but sitting face to face, the morning sunlight streaming through the high gilded window. She closed her eyes and the vision sharpened. The rhythmic murmuring of her heart distorted, lengthened and became irregular, morphing into voices tight with restraint and regret.
"I'm sorry to ask this of you so soon after Sirius' death." Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes peer at me sympathetically over his half-moon glasses.
"I understand the urgency, Headmaster." I'm careful keep my voice devoid of emotion, but I can't quite look him in the eye. "If your information is correct and Fenrir Greyback has allied himself with Voldemort, we must get someone into his pack immediately. I can leave by the end of the week."
The headmaster hesitates, then says delicately, "Remus, given your history with Fenrir... Frankly, if there was anyone else who could perform this mission..."
Now I do look into Dumbledore's eyes, and the bitter humour must be painful to behold because I swear he flinches. "No Headmaster, there is no one else. Thanks to Greyback I am uniquely suited for this task." I get to my feet and begin to roll up the parchments that are spread out on the table between the two of us. "There's very little for me to tie up here. We'll need to decide who will take over my Order duties, but everything is documented; there should be no trouble getting someone up to speed. We've just about finished emptying Grimmauld Place so, " I can't suppress the faint, wry smile twisting my lips, "this saves me the trouble of finding alternate accommodations."
"All the i's dotted and t's crossed? Thank you, Remus." I hear the gratitude in Dumbledore's voice for making an unpleasant task easier, and despite everything it warms me. "For now, I think it would be best if we parceled out your responsibilities among various members. I trust you'll delegate those appropriately and inform me and others as necessary."
"Very well, Headmaster." I'm such a fool, to flush with pleasure at his trust, the legacy of the boy prefect still seeking approval from his professor. "If that is all?"
"There is one more thing, Remus. I would like you to choose a secret keeper for your mission."
This surprises me into parroting his words. "A secret keeper, Headmaster?"
"Yes. I have recently perfected a new version of the Fidelius charm, an unusually complicated one that is rather difficult to perform, if I do say so myself. that will protect the secret even within your own thoughts. Not even a Legilimens as powerful as Voldemort would be able to take the secret from your mind without the secret keeper's consent, nor could he take it from the mind of anyone to whom you'd confided."
"Is that really necessary?" I try to remain detached but the discomfort must plain to read on my face.
"Perhaps it will be, Remus. You carry many Order secrets within you, and are privy to some of its most strategic plans. Should your dual role be discovered, it could endanger not only you but many of your colleagues if your mind is violated. Forgive me, but you are not particularly skilled in Occlumency..."
Ah, so much for hubris. This time the flush on my face has nothing to do with pleasure. But it's not exactly a secret between the Headmaster and me, so what can I do but sigh and admit it with as much grace and regret as I can? "No, I'm unusually ungifted in that respect. If I had even the most rudimentary ability, perhaps I could have taught Harry..."
"It is a talent useful in espionage, but you should not regret its lack, Remus. “ His eyes twinkle at me but I can't help feel that I've failed him in this. “The clarity of your mind resists subterfuge at its most basic level, and that is to be commended." I must be doing a very poor job of hiding my feelings as he's gone so far as to pat me on the shoulder before he continues. "Do you have anyone in mind for a secret keeper? I caution you in advance. The secret keeper should be someone you trust implicitly, someone with whom you'd risk revealing your innermost emotions, as this version of the charm will bind the two of you on the deepest level."
"I... I can't think of anyone I would trust that much except you, Headmaster."
A faraway look creeps into Dumbledore's eyes and he rubs the back of his hand almost reflexively. "As flattering as that is, I fear it may not be wise. I am already secret keeper for the Order and a target for Voldemort. I think another Order member would be safer." Though kind, his tone brooks no opposition. I've seen that distant look on his face more and more and it's beginning to worry me enough that I don't push.
Instead I look out the window at the green grounds below, thinking hard. "Maybe.... Arthur? Alistair? Minerva?" My reluctance is so strong I feel as if the names are being dragged out of me by force.
Bloody Hell. Bad enough that I can't manage to shield my basic thoughts from any seventh year dabbling in Legilimency, now I'm going to have to strip bare to the core for someone who knows me?
“Maybe there is another way, Professor? Perhaps I could use a memory charm to erase any important information before I leave.” Even before I finish I know that's a ridiculous idea. I am in possession of too much data to erase with anything less than a Gilderoy Lockhart special, and I wouldn't be much use spying from a bed in St. Mungo's blithering idiot ward.
Even as he shakes his head I catch a flash of something in his eyes. Anger? Remorse? Neither word is quite right but the strong emotion I see is probably cousin to both. “Remus, the last time...”
He falters a little but I already know what is coming and I grit my teeth in preparation.
“The last time you volunteered for a similar mission, I decided that to protect both you and the Order, you would cut yourself off from the Order, your friends, all who knew you, without explanation. It was a tragic error on my part.”
He doesn't need to elaborate. If I'd been there instead of underground; if I hadn't worked so hard to convince everyone that I was well and truly quit of the Order, then Sirius and James might never have been such willing dupes of Peter's...
For a second there's a hotness behind my eyes and a shameful lump in my throat, "If only Sirius were alive...." I swallow hard, trying not to dwell on what-ifs, and almost miss the gleam in Dumbledore's eyes.
"Ah, there's an idea, Remus. Not Sirius but, perhaps, one who was close to him? A relative and possibly a surrogate? Young Nymphadora?"
I recoil in indignation. "I don't think of Tonks as a surrogate for Sirius!" Temper, temper - I need to bring my voice back under control but my rejection is visceral.
"No, no, of course not. But there is a... comfort there, knowing that you shared a common bond through Sirius, yes?"
Oh Merlin, no! There's no comfort at all in thinking about Tonks having anything in common with Sirius. There's no comfort in thinking of Tonks whatsoever. There's only prickly heat and a queasiness in my stomach not unlike the sensation of suddenly diving toward the ground while your broom spins out of control. It suddenly occurs to me that if I'm going to be laid open like a fish beneath the filleting knife, I'd rather not pursue this train of thought. Reasons, I need to think of reasons.
"It's out of the question. It would be too dangerous for her. She's too young and inexperienced."
Dumbledore laughs aloud. "My dear Remus, please do not let Nymphadora hear you say that, or I fear you will not live to carry out your mission." His voice gentles. "Really Remus, she is an excellent choice. As an Auror she is trained to defend herself, and there is no one more trustworthy. Truly, loyalty has always run strong in the Black family, though not often to noble causes."
Of course I trust her. How could I not? She practically radiates loyalty from every pore, the one constant in her ever changing face. But my intestines are twisting into watery knots at the thought of letting her into my head, glimpsing thoughts that I won't even acknowledge in the cold light of day, no matter that they taunt me to sleep at night and wake me up breathless in the morning.
I'm exhausted. It feels like we've been arguing for hours though it's only been a few minutes. I know it's a losing battle; Dumbledore's made up his mind and he'll bring me into agreement with him eventually because he is, of course, right.
I give it one last try. "But if somehow it was discovered that she held such a key, then -"
"Then matters would be very dire indeed, and all the Order would most likely be in danger."
His tone makes it clear that regardless, that time of danger was fast arriving and he could not afford to let me dither about or refuse to take this extra precaution.
I concede, though I'm squirming inside. "I'll ask her to join us tonight then, after dinner, around eight-ish?"
"Excellent. I will see you both here at that time."
Tonks peeled her eyelids open a fraction.
She was mortified by this unintentional mental eavesdropping and desperately wanted to divert them both with a funny or sarcastic comment about youth and inexperience. But she could barely manage a croak and she saw that whatever comment she might make would go unheard anyway. Remus' eyes were closed and his face was strained as if he were engaged in a tug-of-war with the glittering thread connecting them, but even as his head pulled back against it, the strand thickened into a gleaming rope, quickening across the distance between them.
The disconcerting overlay of Remus' memories across her vision continued, gathering speed. The halls of Hogwarts flickered by and then exploded abruptly into green grass and open blue sky. Paradoxically it was only then that she felt that curious claustrophobia that she associated with the Fidelius charm. Bound by magic and circumscribed by his presence, Tonks sensed the blocks that prevented this memory of his from fleeing out into the world except through her. His secret took on a physical force, pushing at her like a dog trying to nose its way out of a closed door, and she was suddenly aware that she would need to be an active guardian and not just a passive vessel as Remus' keeper.
Secrets want to be told.
Was that her thought or his? A whispering started to fill the space around her. She recognized Remus' voice, hoarse and low, but she'd never heard him speak with such bitterness and emotion. She wanted to put an end to this. She didn't want to be a spy to his thoughts any more.
"Headmaster?" she ground out through clenched teeth. "I think...”
Nobody loves a spy.
She gasped at the curious echo of his mind in hers.
I suppose if Snape can stand it, so can I. It's just that I'd hoped that this time, if I'd worked hard enough, did enough, I'd... what? Be indispensable? Merlin, I'm a fool. No one but Dumbledore is indispensable. What a great big fat head I've got. Did I really think that I was irreplaceable? Or that the others would forget the beast inside me?
Although... there were a few times this last year...
The scene shifted and Tonks inhaled a familiar scent. It was the cheap cigarettes that Sirius smoked by the dozen, but only after midnight when he was sure Molly wouldn't be around to nag him about the smell. She saw Sirius and, somewhat unnervingly, herself, splayed out around the massive kitchen table, sharing a bottle of firewhiskey. She was telling a funny story about Kingsley and his dog, a fluffy white Pekinese with the improbable name of Pookie, made all the funnier by the way her face morphed into Shacklebolt's as she scolded the imaginary pet.
She heard his laughter emanating from her own throat while her face stared at her, curiously reversed from the face she normally saw in the mirror. She remembered that night clearly; too much firewhiskey and the acrid smoke had made her head hurt and she had an early rotation the next morning, but she'd been unwilling to leave the excess of camaraderie. Back then most of the Order still managed to make her feel like a kid, superficially tolerated by the grownups even as they privately rolled their eyes whenever she tripped over that cursed umbrella stand or showed up in t-shirt and ripped jeans. Even Sirius, with his “little coz” routine, could sometimes make her feel twelve instead of twenty-three. But never Remus. He had a trick of looking at her like she was really there.
Merlin but she's beautiful when she laughs. Although... not so much when she's got Shacklebolt's face.
“Stop, please!", I beg. "I won't be able to look Kingsley in the eye tomorrow!”
“Ha! How do you think I feel having to work with him every day? He's plenty scary yelling 'Halt! Magical Enforcement!' until you've heard him use that exact same tone of voice to say 'No wee-wees, Pookie! Bad dog!'”
“Oh bloody hell! I've snorted whiskey out my nose. Bollocks, that burns.” Tonks and I look at each other in concern. The slur in his voice makes it obvious that Sirius has tipped perilously close to passing-out territory and it's time to wrap up the party. She stands up and puts a hand on his arm.
“Hey, coz. I'm knackered. Shall we head up on to bed?”
He shakes her off with a muttered, “Lightweight.” She looks at me and I give her the head jerk that says, “Don't bother, I can get him up to bed.” She answers with the universal “let it be on your head then” shrug and blows me a kiss before sashaying out the door, her tipsiness adding a delightful swing to her hips.
"Fancy her, don't you, Moony?" Sirius' sunken eyes mock me from across the scarred kitchen table. I concentrate on the scrape of wood against my finger as I trace the gouges on the table. Convenient, how easy it is to avoid thinking when you're doing something mindless like that.
I'm listening to her progress up the stairs, the clang of the umbrella stand knocking against the wall, the clomp of her boots up to the landing and then the creak of the floorboards as she tiptoes past the curtained portrait before clomping once again up the remaining stairs to the floor above.
“Well?” I hate when Sirius gets like this. Pushy. Inebriated.
Perceptive.
Drunk, Sirius loses the egocentric view of the world that usually curtails his observations of his fellow man. It makes him keenly aware of the others around him, even as he becomes increasingly unmoored himself. I need to make more of an effort to keep him sober.
"Is it that obvious?"
Sirius leers at me and puts a finger lopsidedly to one side of his nose. "No Moony, your impression of a cold fish is as impeccable as ever. But I've been spying on you. Seen you watching my little coz when you think no one's looking."
I snort at my friend, so pleased with himself to have ferreted out my secret crush on a girl nearly half my age, while I secretly mourn that he's been reduced to this kind of spying. The boy who used to run with me in the woods would have sneered at this broken down old man sitting next to me.
The scene shifted again. Nighttime. The abrupt change made her nauseated, her head spun in a kind of vertigo. Tonks felt nameless, uncontrollable terror rising through her. She opened her mouth to scream...
I open my mouth to scream but it stretches painfully, elongating into a snout.
“Professor, finish it! Now!” Remus choked out the words. A bulge in the line between him and Tonks appears, galloping toward her. The bulge takes on a shape, pointed ears, moon-blind eyes and nightmare teeth in a protruding jaw.
Pain everywhere. Breathe. Deep breaths against the agony that do nothing. Bones pushing out toward skin, skin stretching impossibly over muscles gone ropey and whipcord strong until it all burns.
Hunger. Hunger devouring me, crawling into my belly like a burrowing animal, growing inside me. Blotting out everything else.
Tonks finally screamed, high and thin but then it deepened frighteningly into a howl, and then a growl.
Dumbledore moved as quickly as he could to finish the spell and bind it off but already the shimmering thread between Remus and Tonks had started to attenuate. Thinner and thinner it stretched, like a piece of golden taffy, until it finally disintegrated, the ends curling into wispy smoke as they separated.
Released, the two collapsed in their chairs, panting. The three sat, exhausted, until Dumbledore mustered the energy to conjure goblets of wine for them all. Tonks took a sip and cleared her throat before croaking, “Is it done, then?”
“Yes, my dear.” The headmaster own face was pale and a faint sheen of sweat dampened his beard. More moments passed, until they managed to compose themselves. Tonks felt a strange fullness within her, this new knowledge of Remus pushing outward, threatening to spill like water over the top of a cup. And underneath it, something else. Something foreign that she would have to examine more closely later.
Dumbledore removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. “I dislike being so abrupt, but I'm afraid that was a rather strenuous spell. Remus, perhaps you could inform Nymphadora of the particulars of your mission on your way back to Grimmauld Place?”
Remus hesitated only a moment before saying, “Certainly, Headmaster.” A flush hovered over his cheekbones and his eyes were focused on a spot at least a full two feet to the left of Nymphadora's head, but he pushed himself to his feet and held out his arm courteously. “Tonks? There's a lot for us to go over before I leave.”
She looked at him consideringly before standing and taking his arm. “Yes, I think there is.”
Author: nfwbls
Format & Word Count: fic, ~3650 words
Rating: PG
Prompt: prompts #15, #20 (picture of cigarette and glass, “People are like stained-glass windows...” Elisabeth Kubler-Ross)
Warning: none
Summary: Dumbledore performs a special version of the Fidelius charm on Remus and Tonks in preparation for Remus' mission to spy on the werewolves
Author's Note: This is the first chapter of what is supposed to be a work in progress which explores an alternate explanation for the Remus/Tonks relationship in HBP. It's not meant to be AU, but it invents a premise for their relationship moving beyond the platonic that also explains Tonks' patronus change, and sets up Tonks to be Remus' Order contact for his mission to join Fenrir's pack. It's the first chapter alluded to in a piece I did for the last ficathon called Burn. (Apologies to mrstater who kindly offered to beta this a year ago - Lisa I was going to ask you but then I ran out of time and gilpin25 unintentionally made me feel guilty for letting it languish so I thought I'd post it before I lost my nerve)
"Please, hold hands across the table." Dumbledore used his wand to light the candle between them. In the flickering glow, Remus' eyes were shuttered and wary; Tonks', curious and eager. "As I perform the charm, Nymphadora, you may become a bit disoriented. It is important that you remain in physical contact with Remus." Tonks grimaced at the hated name and her expression drew a reluctant smile from the werewolf which disappeared as quickly as it had come.
The elderly wizard began to chant an incantation, and as the words flowed over her, Tonks felt as if she was being immersed in warm, heavy water; the sounds around her deadened, superseded by the low thrum of her pulse as the corona of the candle flame rippled in her vision. She watched as a shimmery tendril wriggled its way out of Remus' temple and slithered through the air like a sinuous eel, blindly searching for her. It's beautiful, she thought in surprise, not at all like the stuff in a pensieve. Those ghostly vapours of memory had always reminded her of sepulchral rags, but there was nothing grave-like in this golden thread; it exuded life and purpose and, inexplicably, conviction.
Just before it touched her, she steeled herself for the faint tingle that accompanied the application of a Fidelius charm. It wasn't a painful sensation but in the past she'd always found it vaguely uncomfortable, like a claustrophobic prickle on the back of her neck that made her suddenly conscious of standing in a too-small room, untouched by any walls but unable to fling her arms wide with abandon. She wondered if the spell would feel different as the keeper.
There was a tickle on her brow and then, unexpectedly, a piercing sensation, like a cold needle slicing not quite effortlessly through her skin and into her brain. She gasped; it was unpleasant and for a moment her hands jerked and almost pulled themselves out of Remus' grasp, but his fingers tightened around her wrists, maintaining contact. She breathed deeply, willing herself to relax, and his grip loosened again. The needle turned into an icicle, cold enough to burn, and the river of ice flowed through her head and down her spine, filled her chest so that it was hard to expand her lungs properly, and then pushed itself down her arms and out her fingertips back into his skin, completing the circuit. This time it is her fingers that clench and pull his hands closer, and his breath that breaks in a raspy gasp.
Her vision doubled, the candlelight and faces of the two wizards overlaid with a vision of the same room, the same two men, but sitting face to face, the morning sunlight streaming through the high gilded window. She closed her eyes and the vision sharpened. The rhythmic murmuring of her heart distorted, lengthened and became irregular, morphing into voices tight with restraint and regret.
"I'm sorry to ask this of you so soon after Sirius' death." Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes peer at me sympathetically over his half-moon glasses.
"I understand the urgency, Headmaster." I'm careful keep my voice devoid of emotion, but I can't quite look him in the eye. "If your information is correct and Fenrir Greyback has allied himself with Voldemort, we must get someone into his pack immediately. I can leave by the end of the week."
The headmaster hesitates, then says delicately, "Remus, given your history with Fenrir... Frankly, if there was anyone else who could perform this mission..."
Now I do look into Dumbledore's eyes, and the bitter humour must be painful to behold because I swear he flinches. "No Headmaster, there is no one else. Thanks to Greyback I am uniquely suited for this task." I get to my feet and begin to roll up the parchments that are spread out on the table between the two of us. "There's very little for me to tie up here. We'll need to decide who will take over my Order duties, but everything is documented; there should be no trouble getting someone up to speed. We've just about finished emptying Grimmauld Place so, " I can't suppress the faint, wry smile twisting my lips, "this saves me the trouble of finding alternate accommodations."
"All the i's dotted and t's crossed? Thank you, Remus." I hear the gratitude in Dumbledore's voice for making an unpleasant task easier, and despite everything it warms me. "For now, I think it would be best if we parceled out your responsibilities among various members. I trust you'll delegate those appropriately and inform me and others as necessary."
"Very well, Headmaster." I'm such a fool, to flush with pleasure at his trust, the legacy of the boy prefect still seeking approval from his professor. "If that is all?"
"There is one more thing, Remus. I would like you to choose a secret keeper for your mission."
This surprises me into parroting his words. "A secret keeper, Headmaster?"
"Yes. I have recently perfected a new version of the Fidelius charm, an unusually complicated one that is rather difficult to perform, if I do say so myself. that will protect the secret even within your own thoughts. Not even a Legilimens as powerful as Voldemort would be able to take the secret from your mind without the secret keeper's consent, nor could he take it from the mind of anyone to whom you'd confided."
"Is that really necessary?" I try to remain detached but the discomfort must plain to read on my face.
"Perhaps it will be, Remus. You carry many Order secrets within you, and are privy to some of its most strategic plans. Should your dual role be discovered, it could endanger not only you but many of your colleagues if your mind is violated. Forgive me, but you are not particularly skilled in Occlumency..."
Ah, so much for hubris. This time the flush on my face has nothing to do with pleasure. But it's not exactly a secret between the Headmaster and me, so what can I do but sigh and admit it with as much grace and regret as I can? "No, I'm unusually ungifted in that respect. If I had even the most rudimentary ability, perhaps I could have taught Harry..."
"It is a talent useful in espionage, but you should not regret its lack, Remus. “ His eyes twinkle at me but I can't help feel that I've failed him in this. “The clarity of your mind resists subterfuge at its most basic level, and that is to be commended." I must be doing a very poor job of hiding my feelings as he's gone so far as to pat me on the shoulder before he continues. "Do you have anyone in mind for a secret keeper? I caution you in advance. The secret keeper should be someone you trust implicitly, someone with whom you'd risk revealing your innermost emotions, as this version of the charm will bind the two of you on the deepest level."
"I... I can't think of anyone I would trust that much except you, Headmaster."
A faraway look creeps into Dumbledore's eyes and he rubs the back of his hand almost reflexively. "As flattering as that is, I fear it may not be wise. I am already secret keeper for the Order and a target for Voldemort. I think another Order member would be safer." Though kind, his tone brooks no opposition. I've seen that distant look on his face more and more and it's beginning to worry me enough that I don't push.
Instead I look out the window at the green grounds below, thinking hard. "Maybe.... Arthur? Alistair? Minerva?" My reluctance is so strong I feel as if the names are being dragged out of me by force.
Bloody Hell. Bad enough that I can't manage to shield my basic thoughts from any seventh year dabbling in Legilimency, now I'm going to have to strip bare to the core for someone who knows me?
“Maybe there is another way, Professor? Perhaps I could use a memory charm to erase any important information before I leave.” Even before I finish I know that's a ridiculous idea. I am in possession of too much data to erase with anything less than a Gilderoy Lockhart special, and I wouldn't be much use spying from a bed in St. Mungo's blithering idiot ward.
Even as he shakes his head I catch a flash of something in his eyes. Anger? Remorse? Neither word is quite right but the strong emotion I see is probably cousin to both. “Remus, the last time...”
He falters a little but I already know what is coming and I grit my teeth in preparation.
“The last time you volunteered for a similar mission, I decided that to protect both you and the Order, you would cut yourself off from the Order, your friends, all who knew you, without explanation. It was a tragic error on my part.”
He doesn't need to elaborate. If I'd been there instead of underground; if I hadn't worked so hard to convince everyone that I was well and truly quit of the Order, then Sirius and James might never have been such willing dupes of Peter's...
For a second there's a hotness behind my eyes and a shameful lump in my throat, "If only Sirius were alive...." I swallow hard, trying not to dwell on what-ifs, and almost miss the gleam in Dumbledore's eyes.
"Ah, there's an idea, Remus. Not Sirius but, perhaps, one who was close to him? A relative and possibly a surrogate? Young Nymphadora?"
I recoil in indignation. "I don't think of Tonks as a surrogate for Sirius!" Temper, temper - I need to bring my voice back under control but my rejection is visceral.
"No, no, of course not. But there is a... comfort there, knowing that you shared a common bond through Sirius, yes?"
Oh Merlin, no! There's no comfort at all in thinking about Tonks having anything in common with Sirius. There's no comfort in thinking of Tonks whatsoever. There's only prickly heat and a queasiness in my stomach not unlike the sensation of suddenly diving toward the ground while your broom spins out of control. It suddenly occurs to me that if I'm going to be laid open like a fish beneath the filleting knife, I'd rather not pursue this train of thought. Reasons, I need to think of reasons.
"It's out of the question. It would be too dangerous for her. She's too young and inexperienced."
Dumbledore laughs aloud. "My dear Remus, please do not let Nymphadora hear you say that, or I fear you will not live to carry out your mission." His voice gentles. "Really Remus, she is an excellent choice. As an Auror she is trained to defend herself, and there is no one more trustworthy. Truly, loyalty has always run strong in the Black family, though not often to noble causes."
Of course I trust her. How could I not? She practically radiates loyalty from every pore, the one constant in her ever changing face. But my intestines are twisting into watery knots at the thought of letting her into my head, glimpsing thoughts that I won't even acknowledge in the cold light of day, no matter that they taunt me to sleep at night and wake me up breathless in the morning.
I'm exhausted. It feels like we've been arguing for hours though it's only been a few minutes. I know it's a losing battle; Dumbledore's made up his mind and he'll bring me into agreement with him eventually because he is, of course, right.
I give it one last try. "But if somehow it was discovered that she held such a key, then -"
"Then matters would be very dire indeed, and all the Order would most likely be in danger."
His tone makes it clear that regardless, that time of danger was fast arriving and he could not afford to let me dither about or refuse to take this extra precaution.
I concede, though I'm squirming inside. "I'll ask her to join us tonight then, after dinner, around eight-ish?"
"Excellent. I will see you both here at that time."
Tonks peeled her eyelids open a fraction.
She was mortified by this unintentional mental eavesdropping and desperately wanted to divert them both with a funny or sarcastic comment about youth and inexperience. But she could barely manage a croak and she saw that whatever comment she might make would go unheard anyway. Remus' eyes were closed and his face was strained as if he were engaged in a tug-of-war with the glittering thread connecting them, but even as his head pulled back against it, the strand thickened into a gleaming rope, quickening across the distance between them.
The disconcerting overlay of Remus' memories across her vision continued, gathering speed. The halls of Hogwarts flickered by and then exploded abruptly into green grass and open blue sky. Paradoxically it was only then that she felt that curious claustrophobia that she associated with the Fidelius charm. Bound by magic and circumscribed by his presence, Tonks sensed the blocks that prevented this memory of his from fleeing out into the world except through her. His secret took on a physical force, pushing at her like a dog trying to nose its way out of a closed door, and she was suddenly aware that she would need to be an active guardian and not just a passive vessel as Remus' keeper.
Secrets want to be told.
Was that her thought or his? A whispering started to fill the space around her. She recognized Remus' voice, hoarse and low, but she'd never heard him speak with such bitterness and emotion. She wanted to put an end to this. She didn't want to be a spy to his thoughts any more.
"Headmaster?" she ground out through clenched teeth. "I think...”
Nobody loves a spy.
She gasped at the curious echo of his mind in hers.
I suppose if Snape can stand it, so can I. It's just that I'd hoped that this time, if I'd worked hard enough, did enough, I'd... what? Be indispensable? Merlin, I'm a fool. No one but Dumbledore is indispensable. What a great big fat head I've got. Did I really think that I was irreplaceable? Or that the others would forget the beast inside me?
Although... there were a few times this last year...
The scene shifted and Tonks inhaled a familiar scent. It was the cheap cigarettes that Sirius smoked by the dozen, but only after midnight when he was sure Molly wouldn't be around to nag him about the smell. She saw Sirius and, somewhat unnervingly, herself, splayed out around the massive kitchen table, sharing a bottle of firewhiskey. She was telling a funny story about Kingsley and his dog, a fluffy white Pekinese with the improbable name of Pookie, made all the funnier by the way her face morphed into Shacklebolt's as she scolded the imaginary pet.
She heard his laughter emanating from her own throat while her face stared at her, curiously reversed from the face she normally saw in the mirror. She remembered that night clearly; too much firewhiskey and the acrid smoke had made her head hurt and she had an early rotation the next morning, but she'd been unwilling to leave the excess of camaraderie. Back then most of the Order still managed to make her feel like a kid, superficially tolerated by the grownups even as they privately rolled their eyes whenever she tripped over that cursed umbrella stand or showed up in t-shirt and ripped jeans. Even Sirius, with his “little coz” routine, could sometimes make her feel twelve instead of twenty-three. But never Remus. He had a trick of looking at her like she was really there.
Merlin but she's beautiful when she laughs. Although... not so much when she's got Shacklebolt's face.
“Stop, please!", I beg. "I won't be able to look Kingsley in the eye tomorrow!”
“Ha! How do you think I feel having to work with him every day? He's plenty scary yelling 'Halt! Magical Enforcement!' until you've heard him use that exact same tone of voice to say 'No wee-wees, Pookie! Bad dog!'”
“Oh bloody hell! I've snorted whiskey out my nose. Bollocks, that burns.” Tonks and I look at each other in concern. The slur in his voice makes it obvious that Sirius has tipped perilously close to passing-out territory and it's time to wrap up the party. She stands up and puts a hand on his arm.
“Hey, coz. I'm knackered. Shall we head up on to bed?”
He shakes her off with a muttered, “Lightweight.” She looks at me and I give her the head jerk that says, “Don't bother, I can get him up to bed.” She answers with the universal “let it be on your head then” shrug and blows me a kiss before sashaying out the door, her tipsiness adding a delightful swing to her hips.
"Fancy her, don't you, Moony?" Sirius' sunken eyes mock me from across the scarred kitchen table. I concentrate on the scrape of wood against my finger as I trace the gouges on the table. Convenient, how easy it is to avoid thinking when you're doing something mindless like that.
I'm listening to her progress up the stairs, the clang of the umbrella stand knocking against the wall, the clomp of her boots up to the landing and then the creak of the floorboards as she tiptoes past the curtained portrait before clomping once again up the remaining stairs to the floor above.
“Well?” I hate when Sirius gets like this. Pushy. Inebriated.
Perceptive.
Drunk, Sirius loses the egocentric view of the world that usually curtails his observations of his fellow man. It makes him keenly aware of the others around him, even as he becomes increasingly unmoored himself. I need to make more of an effort to keep him sober.
"Is it that obvious?"
Sirius leers at me and puts a finger lopsidedly to one side of his nose. "No Moony, your impression of a cold fish is as impeccable as ever. But I've been spying on you. Seen you watching my little coz when you think no one's looking."
I snort at my friend, so pleased with himself to have ferreted out my secret crush on a girl nearly half my age, while I secretly mourn that he's been reduced to this kind of spying. The boy who used to run with me in the woods would have sneered at this broken down old man sitting next to me.
The scene shifted again. Nighttime. The abrupt change made her nauseated, her head spun in a kind of vertigo. Tonks felt nameless, uncontrollable terror rising through her. She opened her mouth to scream...
I open my mouth to scream but it stretches painfully, elongating into a snout.
“Professor, finish it! Now!” Remus choked out the words. A bulge in the line between him and Tonks appears, galloping toward her. The bulge takes on a shape, pointed ears, moon-blind eyes and nightmare teeth in a protruding jaw.
Pain everywhere. Breathe. Deep breaths against the agony that do nothing. Bones pushing out toward skin, skin stretching impossibly over muscles gone ropey and whipcord strong until it all burns.
Hunger. Hunger devouring me, crawling into my belly like a burrowing animal, growing inside me. Blotting out everything else.
Tonks finally screamed, high and thin but then it deepened frighteningly into a howl, and then a growl.
Dumbledore moved as quickly as he could to finish the spell and bind it off but already the shimmering thread between Remus and Tonks had started to attenuate. Thinner and thinner it stretched, like a piece of golden taffy, until it finally disintegrated, the ends curling into wispy smoke as they separated.
Released, the two collapsed in their chairs, panting. The three sat, exhausted, until Dumbledore mustered the energy to conjure goblets of wine for them all. Tonks took a sip and cleared her throat before croaking, “Is it done, then?”
“Yes, my dear.” The headmaster own face was pale and a faint sheen of sweat dampened his beard. More moments passed, until they managed to compose themselves. Tonks felt a strange fullness within her, this new knowledge of Remus pushing outward, threatening to spill like water over the top of a cup. And underneath it, something else. Something foreign that she would have to examine more closely later.
Dumbledore removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. “I dislike being so abrupt, but I'm afraid that was a rather strenuous spell. Remus, perhaps you could inform Nymphadora of the particulars of your mission on your way back to Grimmauld Place?”
Remus hesitated only a moment before saying, “Certainly, Headmaster.” A flush hovered over his cheekbones and his eyes were focused on a spot at least a full two feet to the left of Nymphadora's head, but he pushed himself to his feet and held out his arm courteously. “Tonks? There's a lot for us to go over before I leave.”
She looked at him consideringly before standing and taking his arm. “Yes, I think there is.”