[Kaleidoscope update] And Yet So Far
I can't believe it has taken me since December to finish this chapter of Kaleidoscope. Actually, part of the problem is that the iceberg has calved yet again -- I posted an earlier draft of half of the first scene at rt_morelove in January under the title Taking Leave, but (because Remus just won't get on with it and leave, darn him ;) ) that title now belongs to the next chapter. At this point there are three whole chapters that were originally going to be "the one where Remus leaves" but have turned into something else...Next time. Really.
The short final scene also has a precursor- Invitation, at day_by_drabble in summer 2011. And of course Molly's dinner invitation itself is taken from HBP, chapter 5.
But the nice thing about finally posting this today is that I can dedicate it to sspring92, to wish her a happy birthday, and to thank her for being one of my first LJ friends and a long-time reader! ♥
And Yet So Far
“To Sirius,” said Tonks, raising her glass of firewhisky.
“To Sirius,” Remus echoed, raising his own. “Good old Padfoot.” His voice cracked, but only the tiniest bit. When she drank, he did too, and he met her gaze straight on, with something that was almost a smile.
The warmth she felt, slowly lighting her up from inside, might have been from the drink.
The Three Broomsticks was buzzing with noise and laughter and gossip-some of it even about Sirius, as the Evening Prophet had carried the sensational story of his posthumous acquittal. Tonks rather thought she saw people stealing sly glances in Remus’s direction before ducking their heads to whisper. Apparently, they hadn’t forgotten that he had been Sirius’s friend.
Madam Rosmerta certainly hadn’t forgotten. She’d brought them the firewhisky, setting each tumbler down on the table with a deliberate thunk. “On the house,” she said. “Toast him for me, will you?” She blinked hard before turning away.
And Remus had laughed, raw-edged but genuine. “Sirius always had a bit of a schoolboy crush on Rosmerta. Maybe she knew that.”
Tonks took another sip, watching him over the top of her glass. He’d barely been able to speak Sirius’s name aloud since the fight at the Ministry, and now here he was, laughing-really laughing-and even telling stories. Badgering him into joining her tonight might just have been the most useful thing she’d done in weeks.
“Did you two come here often?” she asked, blatantly fishing for more tales. But then she winced, hearing her own clumsy words. Sirius hadn’t gone much of anywhere at all for the last year of his life. “That is-before-”
But Remus only smiled into his glass. “We did. Mostly when we were still at Hogwarts.”
Tonks snorted, relieved. “School rules didn’t slow you lot down very much.”
He turned his smile on her-still a true smile, but shot through all the same with a sadness that settled far too easily on his worn, tired face. She wanted to reach out and curl her hand around his, to offer comfort and to find some for herself. The way she always used to do.
But when he wasn’t sipping his firewhisky, he kept his hands tucked carefully under the table.
“I remember once,” he began, slowly. His gaze slid out of focus, and he stared past her, into Rosmerta’s roaring fire. But his wistful smile sharpened, a little, until she could almost see the Marauder peeking through.
“Yeah?” Tonks leaned in toward him, planting her elbows on the table-one of them skidded right into a sticky patch, it was true, but that was what Scourgify was for. Some of the customers sitting along the bar counter were getting rowdy, and she didn’t want to miss a word, not when Remus was finally talking again. “Up to no good, were you?”
“You might say that.” He blinked, snapping back to the present, but with a gleam in his eye that she hadn’t seen in weeks. “We slipped out of school one evening and came down here, and-”
“I told you!”
The raucous shout cut straight through the usual cheerful chaos of the pub, and Remus wasn’t the only one to swallow a tale in the middle of the telling. Tonks looked up in time to see a tall, burly man slide off his barstool with a thump and wobble unsteadily on his feet.
“That one, there.”
The man flung his arm out, finger extended-pointing right at-them?
“He’s a werewolf.”
Tonks could only stare, helpless, as the sorely missed light in Remus’s eyes went out like a candle hit with a Nox.
“And what if he is?” Rosmerta’s voice rang out in challenge. “He’s a paying customer, same as you!”
But Remus flushed, pushing away the dregs of his firewhisky-which had, after all, been Rosmerta’s treat. He stood, very deliberately, and walked across the pub, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.
Tonks shook herself out of her gobsmacked stupor and followed.
“Good night, Rosmerta,” said Remus, very quietly. “And thank you.” He pulled the door open and slipped out into the damp, chilly darkness.
Tonks let the door slam shut behind her.“What a-a-dunderhead!”
Remus was walking fast, with his head down and his hands deep in his pockets.
She scrambled to catch up.
But he wouldn’t look at her, not even when she was walking right beside him, matching his long strides.
“Oi,” she said. “Don’t let one drunken arse ruin the evening.” She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and bumped her shoulder against his.
And Remus stopped walking so abruptly she stumbled.
“Sorry.” He caught her other arm, his hand warm and strong under her elbow, and held on until her feet were sorted. But then he let go at once and stepped away, shoving his hands in his pockets again, looking past her. “You do realise that man was only speaking the truth.”
The bitter twist of his smile hurt to see. She wanted to watch that mischievous gleam light up his eyes again.
To bloody well touch his hand without sending him running away.
Tonks took a very deep breath.
“That man was an arse, for making a fuss over nothing.” She scowled, scanning the dark, empty street. No dementors were visible, but their sodden mist hung thick and low about the village, blotting out what should have been soft summer twilight. “Come on,” she said. “It’s not safe to be standing around out of doors at night like this. Let’s go have a drink at the Hog’s Head.”
“It’s really rather late,” said Remus, steadily. “I’d best be getting home.”
“It’s not even ten o’clock,” Tonks countered. “And I want to hear the rest of your story about sneaking out of school.” She saw him start to shake his head, and hurried to cut him off. “Look, I don’t think either one of us should be spending this evening alone. Wouldn’t Sirius be glad to know we were keeping each other company?”
“I-can't.” Remus met her gaze, at last, but his jaw was clenched tight. “I simply can’t afford to go out for a drink. You know I have no idea when I’ll find paid work again.” He swallowed. “I should never have agreed to meet you at the Three Broomsticks in the first place. But I wanted-”
Her breath caught.
He pressed his lips together and looked away. “You need to understand that I’m too poor. We’ve been through this before.”
“No, you need to understand that I don’t care!” Tonks ground her teeth. Tonight had been going so well. “Look, I can buy us a round of drinks, and you can tell me more about the pranks you lot used to pull-”
He merely looked back at her, haggard and drawn, and then he closed his eyes and dropped his head. Giving up.
Tonks felt sick to her stomach. It was all too much. She had no energy left to keep fighting, not any more. She felt heavy, and sluggish, and bitterly cold, and-
Dark?
The nearest streetlight had just blinked out-
“Dementors,” she choked out, fumbling for her wand, just as Remus snapped his head up and barked, “Nymphadora!”
And then they were standing back to back, wands drawn. Tonks didn’t know whether it was her dogged determination not to let the evil things win, or whether it was the warmth of Remus’s back pressed solid against her shoulders, but she managed to conjure the brightest, strongest Patronus she’d produced since Sirius had died. Her silver hare took on three dementors at one go, driving them away until they melted into the shadows and vanished from sight.
Remus’s Patronus lit up the street behind her. She was too busy fending off a second wave of dementors with her own Patronus to give it a good look.
But it very clearly had four legs.
And then all the dementors were gone, just as quickly as they had appeared. The streetlight spluttered back to life.
“You all right?” Tonks, rather shaky and decidedly queasy from the close encounter, leaned back against Remus again as she inspected the narrow street they stood on, with its winding alleys branching off to the sides. “Looks like that was the lot.”
He leaned against her for a moment, too, drawing a long raspy breath, before straightening up and stepping away, rummaging clumsily in his pockets. “I have some chocolate-just let me find it-”
“Here-I’ve got some of the Auror-issue stuff.” She extracted a thick bar wrapped in plain brown paper from her own pocket and broke it in half. “It’s pretty strong.”
“Thanks.” Remus reached out to take the chocolate from her. His fingers, still unsteady, brushed against hers, and she couldn’t help but shiver, even though he snatched his hand away at once.
The chocolate, dark and bittersweet, did its work. Tonks felt her roiling stomach settle as warmth spread all the way to the tips of her toes, and she was certainly steadier on her feet. Remus looked better, too, she thought, not quite so green, although it was a bit hard to tell in the yellow glow of the streetlight.
And so she seized the moment. “I think you’d better show me your Patronus. So I’ll know it if I see it again.”
He stiffened.
“I couldn’t tell what it was, just now.” She crumpled the empty chocolate wrapper and stuffed it back into her pocket. “But it definitely had legs.” She grinned, a little. “I always reckoned you used a non-corporeal one on purpose. Harry told me you taught him to cast a corporeal Patronus when he was in his third year.”
Remus gave her half a smile in return. It was very, very wry.
“You’re quite right,” he said. “You ought to know what mine looks like, at least. There might be an emergency, and you might need to recognise it.” But he hesitated, shrinking into himself a little, before he set his jaw and raised his wand. “Expecto Patronum.”
Silver mist pooled at their feet, but all it did was spin itself into the amorphous cloud that Remus always used for sending messages.
“Sorry,” he muttered, Vanishing it with a flick of his wand. “It’s-not so easy, sometimes, finding the right memory.” The wry half-smile reappeared. “I think I was a bit inspired, before, when a dozen dementors swooped down on us out of nowhere.”
“Yeah,” said Tonks casually, around the lump that had lodged in her throat-he couldn’t even think of enough happy memories to conjure a reliable Patronus? “Me too.”
Remus drew a deep breath and shifted his grip on his wand. Then he looked right at her, in a way that made her shiver every bit as much as the brush of his fingers had done, before dropping his gaze to-
-her lips?
Bloody hell-was that his strongest happy memory? Merlin knew it was hers-
Remus closed his eyes and raised his wand again. “Expecto Patronum.”
Tonks blinked, and made herself go on breathing. She mustn’t miss seeing the bloody Patronus, not after all that. Although she had a pretty good idea what to expect, given how Remus seemed to feel about it.
And yes, it was a wolf. A fine handsome fellow. It circled Remus twice, sniffing at him, tail waving eagerly.
Remus hunched his shoulders and turned away.
It was only a Patronus, not a real wolf, and Tonks knew that perfectly well, but she just couldn’t stand seeing the ears and tail droop so. She whistled once under her breath, holding out her hand, and the wolf trotted over to her instead, alert again. It nudged at her fingers with its silvery nose, and then it raised its head toward the sky and voiced a silent howl before fading to nothing.
“I’m sure you can see,” said Remus quietly, “why I prefer to use a non-corporeal one.”
The lump was back in her throat. “But-he was magnificent. Wolves are brave, and loyal, and intelligent...That’s a fine Patronus.” And a wolf was not a werewolf.
Remus shrugged, and managed a very crooked smile. “It’s not so convenient, really, being forcibly reminded of the part of me I least like to think about.”
There wasn’t a whole lot she could say to that.
He sighed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets once more. “It truly is getting late, Tonks. I’ll see you in a couple of days, for the mission briefing, all right?”
It was not all right. She didn’t want this evening to end, not when they were mourning Sirius together. Not when she had felt Remus’s hand catch her elbow, his back press against her shoulders, his fingers brush past hers. Not when the air around them was still clammy from the dementors’ attack, and the light in Remus’s eyes that he had first found and then lost at the Three Broomsticks had never come back.
Not when he had only called her Nymphadora once.
“Yeah,” she said, swallowing. “See you Friday.”
“Good night.” He gave her another almost-smile, and Disapparated on the spot.
Tonks stared at the place where he had stood, stiff with shame, turning away from his own Patronus. His Patronus. One of the strongest forms of protective magic-the very embodiment of positive emotions. Her hare made her smile when she conjured it, made her feel warm and safe and lucky.
But Remus-far from taking comfort in his Patronus-couldn’t even stand the sight of it.
She pressed her fist against her mouth and bit her knuckle, hard. Because she would not cry.
~ * ~
“Security question, dear!” called Molly through the Burrow’s back door on Friday evening. “What did you trip over at headquarters last year?”
“There’d be a few things to choose from!” Tonks kept her voice light, even though thinking about last year, and the home she had unexpectedly found in that musty old house, made her heart hurt. “But you probably mean the troll’s-foot umbrella stand?”
The door swung open, and Molly ushered her into the bright, warm kitchen.
The first thing she saw was Remus, sitting at the big round table with a mug of tea in his hands. Their eyes met, and a sudden brilliant smile chased the shadows from his face. Her pulse skittered.
“Hullo, lass,” Mad-Eye rumbled.
“Wotcher.” She mustered up an ordinary cheeky grin for her mentor, and even managed not to blush-which was particularly important, as she couldn’t hide a blush these days!-when his magical eye swung round to inspect her as though she were a bug on the end of a pin.
She slid into a chair next to Remus. He smiled at her again, but it was a careful smile this time, and he even pulled away a little, tucking his elbows close against his sides.
She sighed.
Molly set a steaming mug of tea in front of her. “Now that you’re all three here, I’ll leave you to it. Help yourself to as much tea as you’d like, and there are biscuits in the tin.”
“Thank you, Molly,” said Remus quietly, “for letting us impose on your hospitality like this.”
“Nonsense, dear.” Molly rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. “With the security spells in place for Harry’s visit, surely this is the safest place for the Order to meet.”
“When is Harry coming?” asked Tonks. “Have you heard yet?”
“Early tomorrow morning.” Molly beamed. “Albus said he’s going to fetch him late tonight, but they’ve something to do on the way. I’m about to go to make up a bed for him in the twins’ room, so that everything is ready when he gets here!”
She bustled out, closing the door to the kitchen behind her.
“Right, then,” said Mad-Eye, never one for small talk. “Lupin, what’s the status of your preparations?”
Tonks turned to look at Remus, and found he had been looking at her. At Mad-Eye’s words, he blinked, and turned his attention to the old Auror instead.
But he had been looking at her, when she was looking away. And his eyes had been almost-hungry.
Oh, how her heart hurt. If he weren’t being such an obstinate prat-
“I have completed my surveillance of Greyback’s werewolf camp,” said Remus steadily, in answer to Mad-Eye’s question, “and I’m more or less ready to begin the mission.” He swallowed. “However, as we agreed at the last Order meeting, I won’t set out to join the camp until after the full moon, so as to have an entire month to establish some sort of position in the pack before my first transformation there.” He unclenched white-knuckled fingers from around his mug and flattened his hands on the table. “That gives me a little more than two weeks to finish a few other pieces of Order business before I leave.”
Two weeks.
Tonks wondered how long it would be before he came home again after that.
She forced down a swallow of tea.
“What have you learned about the pack?” Mad-Eye’s magical eye, which had been rolling systematically in slow (dizzying) circles, came to rest on Remus for a moment.
“They have quite an orderly lifestyle, really,” said Remus, with half a smile. “They spend their days hunting, one way or another. Some of them set snares for birds and rabbits in the wood. Others walk into town and scrounge through rubbish.” His smile faded. “Or they steal, from shops or homes or vegetable gardens.” He pressed his lips together. “I’ve also seen some of them rough up people who happened to wander into the wood, relieving them of their money and any food they’re carrying.” One finger traced slow patterns along the handle of his mug. “I’m planning to develop exceptional skills at scrounging through rubbish, that or setting snares. The other options for finding a place in the pack are...considerably less appealing.”
Tonks thought of one late night at Grimmauld Place the winter before, when a slightly tipsy Remus had let slip what a point of pride it was for him that, no matter how badly off he had been since finishing at Hogwarts-and, she had begun to guess, that was sometimes very badly off indeed-he had never resorted to theft for survival.
“And of course, you’ve never made off with anyone else’s Charms homework,” Sirius had sniggered, breaking the firewhisky-fuelled contemplative mood.
“Or with a pair of McGonagall’s tartan socks,” Remus had promptly retorted, eyes bright with laughter. “Really, Padfoot, you of all people should know that pilfering in the service of a prank is another matter altogether.”
It wasn’t laughter Tonks saw on his face now. In fact, there was nothing much to see there at all. To the casual observer, his expression would seem calm. Mild. Bland, even.
But Tonks had known Remus better than that for months.
Her throat ached. It was all she could do not to catch his hand and hold it, warm and tight, in her own. But his elbows, still folded carefully against his sides, made it clear that this would be a losing proposition.
Mad-Eye took a sip from his flask (he wouldn’t even drink tea that he’d watched Molly make with her own hands). “How firm is Greyback’s control of the pack?”
Remus drew a breath and loosened the set of his shoulders. “I would say, fairly solid. He spends most of his time with just a few of the werewolves-likely his closest supporters. But he seems to be keeping an eye on the whole group, and I’ve seen several different people back down from confrontations with him.”
“Confrontations, eh?” Mad-Eye leaned forward on his elbows. “What about?”
“I wish I knew.” Remus smiled again, but it was rather grim. “I’ve been unable to get close enough to hear what they’re discussing without risking discovery, so I can only watch.” He lifted his mug and took a sip of tea. “But I will certainly make it my business to identify points of conflict in the camp, and make use of them to weaken Greyback’s influence in any way I can.”
“And you’ll keep us informed,” said Mad-Eye, “about any Death Eater activity in the pack.”
Remus nodded. “That reminds me-we should go over the communication protocols.”
Tonks fished a quill and some parchment out of her satchel. As the backup Order contact for this mission, she might have to-she hoped she would have to-fill in for Mad-Eye at some point. So she took careful notes as Remus talked.
But what she heard make her feel utterly sick.
Remus’s wand was to be kept hidden in a hollow tree, so it wouldn’t be found on him if he were searched-even though that would leave him all but defenceless, save whatever spells he could cast wandlessly. Mad-Eye would check the tree once each day for any messages Remus might have left, scribbled on pages torn from a Muggle notebook, and would meet Remus in the wood for clandestine debriefing meetings once a week-but otherwise, Remus would be left entirely on his own with the werewolf pack. With Fenrir Greyback’s werewolf pack.
For months.
Moon after moon after moon.
And as Remus spoke, his voice grew more and more quiet, and his face went more and more bland.
She took another gulp of tea, swallowing bile.
“Your plan will do,” said Mad-Eye-high praise, from him.
But that only made Tonks wonder why no one had been able to come up with anything better.
“That’s settled, then.” Remus folded his notes and tucked them into a pocket in his robes. “We should let Molly have her kitchen back. It’s rather late.”
Tonks watched him, measuring the tension in his jaw and the stiff angle of his shoulders, entirely at odds with his calm, steady voice.
He looked up. Their eyes met again, at last. Hers, she knew, were full of worry-and probably more.
Remus drew a sharp, quick breath, and swallowed hard. His hand clenched around his mug.
His eyes were hungry again.
“There’s one more thing.” Mad-Eye’s gruff voice shattered the silence.
Remus blinked and turned to face him. Tonks tried to remember how to breathe.
“We all know Greyback is a nasty piece of work.” The old Auror hesitated, uncharacteristically. “Have you read through his Ministry file, lad? All of it?”
Remus stilled. “I have.”
“That bite report, near Cardiff, in 1965.” Mad-Eye cleared his throat. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
“St. Mellons,” said Remus, very quietly. “Yes.”
“If Greyback remembers you, he’s likely to take a...personal interest.” Mad-Eye was staring straight at Remus with both eyes again. “Do you have a plan for that?”
“Yes,” Remus repeated. He forced a tiny smile. “The plan is to keep my head down and stay out of his way. I’ll work on being so very boring that he’ll tire of me quickly, even if he does try to take an interest at first.”
Calm, mild, bland.
But not entirely. The mask slipped for just an instant, leaving him-bleak. Desolate.
And no bloody wonder.
She ached to touch him. To rest her hand on his shoulder as Molly had done, to slip her arm through his and pull him close against her side.
To tangle her fingers in the hair that brushed his collar and pull him toward her for a long, sweet kiss.
Instead, she blinked, twice, and held on to her mug with both hands.
Remus stood abruptly, almost clumsily. “Good night, Alastor. Tonks.”
He was never clumsy, except right around the moon. Which this was not.
“Good night,” she said, and a little quaver got past her guard. “Owl me, yeah? I still owe you a drink.”
This time, he didn’t look at her. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders and slipped through the back door, closing it silently behind him.
Remus, the consummately polite, had actually fled without saying good night to Molly.
Tonks bit her knuckle. Hard.
Mad-Eye was watching her with both eyes, now. “You all right?”
She gave a bitter snort. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who’s got to go and live with Fenrir bloody Greyback.”
“True enough.” Mad-Eye took a deep pull from his flask.
“He’s frightened,” she said, in a small voice. “I’ve never seen him frightened before.” Well, just the one time-Remus had been downright terrified after he’d let himself respond to her kiss. But never when it came to Order business.
“This won’t be an easy mission,” said Mad-Eye, blunt as always. “But Lupin’s strong. I wouldn’t let Dumbledore send him if I didn’t think he could handle it.” He rested one gnarled hand on Tonks’s arm for a moment, surprisingly gently. “The Order needs him, lass. No one else can do this job. And we’ve got to stop the werewolves going over to Voldemort.”
“I know,” she said, miserably.
Mad-Eye stood and pushed open the door leading from the kitchen. “Molly?” he rumbled. “We’re finished here.”
Hurried footsteps sounded, and Molly appeared. She was in her nightclothes now, under a comfortable-looking green housecoat, but she seemed to be wide awake.
“Good night,” said Mad-Eye. “See you Sunday, then.” He stumped through the back door, closing it behind him with a sharp click.
“Erm.” Tonks stood as well, carefully disentangling her feet from all the chair and table legs lying in wait, and smiled awkwardly. “Thanks.” Someone ought to say it, and she seemed to be the only one left.
“Not at all, dear,” said Molly absently, frowning at the door. “Has Remus already gone?”
“Yeah.”
Her voice cracked enough on that single word that Molly turned to frown at her instead.
“Stay for a minute.” Molly refilled Tonks’s mug and poured one for herself. “You look like you could use some more tea.” She sat down at the table and waited for Tonks to settle back into her chair.
For once, the insatiably curious Molly Weasley didn’t ask a single question. She merely reached out and patted Tonks on the arm. But Molly’s silent sympathy lost Tonks the battle she’d been fighting for the last hour. A tear slid down her cheek, and then another, and she only just managed to stop a full-on flood by pressing her fists against her eyes.
“He’s almost ready to leave for his mission,” she said, from behind her hands. “He’s going to have to compromise practically all of his principles just to survive. And-it’s Fenrir Greyback.”
She gulped down something that would have turned into a sob if she had let it.
“He’s afraid, Molly. He’s terrified, and he’s trying so hard not to show it-”
Molly squeezed her shoulder.
Tonks took a deep breath, and another, and then she sat up and drank a long swallow of tea.
“I remember,” said Molly, very quietly, “waiting for my brothers to come home, when they had gone out on Order missions. The waiting is never easy, when there’s someone you love to worry about.”
Now it was Tonks who reached over and squeezed Molly’s hand. In the end, her brothers hadn’t come home.
“If only,” Tonks whispered, “he would let me love him. Let himself love me. It would make all the rest of it a little better.”
“He is being a bit of an idiot,” said Molly, in fond exasperation. “You’ll keep after him, won’t you?”
“Not half,” said Tonks, and a smile worked its way out-even if it was a bit watery for her liking.
~ * ~
Dumbledore’s unexpectedly early arrival with Harry in tow sent Tonks fleeing almost as fast as Remus had done. She spun on her heel, away from the light spilling out from the Burrow’s kitchen window, away from Harry’s curiosity and Dumbledore’s unwelcome sympathy.
The squeeze of Apparition twisted hardest at the lump in her throat.
“Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend,” Molly had urged. “Remus and Mad-Eye are coming-”
Dinner. At the Burrow. With Mad-Eye and Harry and Hermione and the whole Weasley clan watching?
She bloody well thought not.
Not until she worked out how to stop her heart from breaking every time she caught sight of the dread-or the loneliness-behind Remus’s meticulously neutral mask. Or, worst of all, the hungry desperate gaze that followed her when he thought no one was looking.
Because she would not cry.
She landed in the lane in front of the Aurors’ hired cottage and looked around reflexively for dementors, even before she noticed that she had already begun to shiver. When she spotted it-a small one, on its own, down toward the end of the lane-she cast her Patronus.
And almost dropped her wand in shock.
Her Patronus did exactly what it was supposed to do-it made for the dementor, and drove it away out of sight.
Only, it wasn’t a hare anymore.
~ * ~
[ Kaleidoscope series index ]
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The short final scene also has a precursor- Invitation, at day_by_drabble in summer 2011. And of course Molly's dinner invitation itself is taken from HBP, chapter 5.
But the nice thing about finally posting this today is that I can dedicate it to sspring92, to wish her a happy birthday, and to thank her for being one of my first LJ friends and a long-time reader! ♥
- And Yet So Far (4840 words | PG/mild profanity | HBP)
What with missing Sirius, spending every day driving off dementors from Hogsmeade, and helping Remus get ready for an Order mission straight out of his worst nightmares, Tonks isn’t feeling very pink. Which may explain why it’s so hard to keep herself together as Remus lets her further in and pushes her further away, all at the same time.
And Yet So Far
“To Sirius,” said Tonks, raising her glass of firewhisky.
“To Sirius,” Remus echoed, raising his own. “Good old Padfoot.” His voice cracked, but only the tiniest bit. When she drank, he did too, and he met her gaze straight on, with something that was almost a smile.
The warmth she felt, slowly lighting her up from inside, might have been from the drink.
The Three Broomsticks was buzzing with noise and laughter and gossip-some of it even about Sirius, as the Evening Prophet had carried the sensational story of his posthumous acquittal. Tonks rather thought she saw people stealing sly glances in Remus’s direction before ducking their heads to whisper. Apparently, they hadn’t forgotten that he had been Sirius’s friend.
Madam Rosmerta certainly hadn’t forgotten. She’d brought them the firewhisky, setting each tumbler down on the table with a deliberate thunk. “On the house,” she said. “Toast him for me, will you?” She blinked hard before turning away.
And Remus had laughed, raw-edged but genuine. “Sirius always had a bit of a schoolboy crush on Rosmerta. Maybe she knew that.”
Tonks took another sip, watching him over the top of her glass. He’d barely been able to speak Sirius’s name aloud since the fight at the Ministry, and now here he was, laughing-really laughing-and even telling stories. Badgering him into joining her tonight might just have been the most useful thing she’d done in weeks.
“Did you two come here often?” she asked, blatantly fishing for more tales. But then she winced, hearing her own clumsy words. Sirius hadn’t gone much of anywhere at all for the last year of his life. “That is-before-”
But Remus only smiled into his glass. “We did. Mostly when we were still at Hogwarts.”
Tonks snorted, relieved. “School rules didn’t slow you lot down very much.”
He turned his smile on her-still a true smile, but shot through all the same with a sadness that settled far too easily on his worn, tired face. She wanted to reach out and curl her hand around his, to offer comfort and to find some for herself. The way she always used to do.
But when he wasn’t sipping his firewhisky, he kept his hands tucked carefully under the table.
“I remember once,” he began, slowly. His gaze slid out of focus, and he stared past her, into Rosmerta’s roaring fire. But his wistful smile sharpened, a little, until she could almost see the Marauder peeking through.
“Yeah?” Tonks leaned in toward him, planting her elbows on the table-one of them skidded right into a sticky patch, it was true, but that was what Scourgify was for. Some of the customers sitting along the bar counter were getting rowdy, and she didn’t want to miss a word, not when Remus was finally talking again. “Up to no good, were you?”
“You might say that.” He blinked, snapping back to the present, but with a gleam in his eye that she hadn’t seen in weeks. “We slipped out of school one evening and came down here, and-”
“I told you!”
The raucous shout cut straight through the usual cheerful chaos of the pub, and Remus wasn’t the only one to swallow a tale in the middle of the telling. Tonks looked up in time to see a tall, burly man slide off his barstool with a thump and wobble unsteadily on his feet.
“That one, there.”
The man flung his arm out, finger extended-pointing right at-them?
“He’s a werewolf.”
Tonks could only stare, helpless, as the sorely missed light in Remus’s eyes went out like a candle hit with a Nox.
“And what if he is?” Rosmerta’s voice rang out in challenge. “He’s a paying customer, same as you!”
But Remus flushed, pushing away the dregs of his firewhisky-which had, after all, been Rosmerta’s treat. He stood, very deliberately, and walked across the pub, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.
Tonks shook herself out of her gobsmacked stupor and followed.
“Good night, Rosmerta,” said Remus, very quietly. “And thank you.” He pulled the door open and slipped out into the damp, chilly darkness.
Tonks let the door slam shut behind her.“What a-a-dunderhead!”
Remus was walking fast, with his head down and his hands deep in his pockets.
She scrambled to catch up.
But he wouldn’t look at her, not even when she was walking right beside him, matching his long strides.
“Oi,” she said. “Don’t let one drunken arse ruin the evening.” She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and bumped her shoulder against his.
And Remus stopped walking so abruptly she stumbled.
“Sorry.” He caught her other arm, his hand warm and strong under her elbow, and held on until her feet were sorted. But then he let go at once and stepped away, shoving his hands in his pockets again, looking past her. “You do realise that man was only speaking the truth.”
The bitter twist of his smile hurt to see. She wanted to watch that mischievous gleam light up his eyes again.
To bloody well touch his hand without sending him running away.
Tonks took a very deep breath.
“That man was an arse, for making a fuss over nothing.” She scowled, scanning the dark, empty street. No dementors were visible, but their sodden mist hung thick and low about the village, blotting out what should have been soft summer twilight. “Come on,” she said. “It’s not safe to be standing around out of doors at night like this. Let’s go have a drink at the Hog’s Head.”
“It’s really rather late,” said Remus, steadily. “I’d best be getting home.”
“It’s not even ten o’clock,” Tonks countered. “And I want to hear the rest of your story about sneaking out of school.” She saw him start to shake his head, and hurried to cut him off. “Look, I don’t think either one of us should be spending this evening alone. Wouldn’t Sirius be glad to know we were keeping each other company?”
“I-can't.” Remus met her gaze, at last, but his jaw was clenched tight. “I simply can’t afford to go out for a drink. You know I have no idea when I’ll find paid work again.” He swallowed. “I should never have agreed to meet you at the Three Broomsticks in the first place. But I wanted-”
Her breath caught.
He pressed his lips together and looked away. “You need to understand that I’m too poor. We’ve been through this before.”
“No, you need to understand that I don’t care!” Tonks ground her teeth. Tonight had been going so well. “Look, I can buy us a round of drinks, and you can tell me more about the pranks you lot used to pull-”
He merely looked back at her, haggard and drawn, and then he closed his eyes and dropped his head. Giving up.
Tonks felt sick to her stomach. It was all too much. She had no energy left to keep fighting, not any more. She felt heavy, and sluggish, and bitterly cold, and-
Dark?
The nearest streetlight had just blinked out-
“Dementors,” she choked out, fumbling for her wand, just as Remus snapped his head up and barked, “Nymphadora!”
And then they were standing back to back, wands drawn. Tonks didn’t know whether it was her dogged determination not to let the evil things win, or whether it was the warmth of Remus’s back pressed solid against her shoulders, but she managed to conjure the brightest, strongest Patronus she’d produced since Sirius had died. Her silver hare took on three dementors at one go, driving them away until they melted into the shadows and vanished from sight.
Remus’s Patronus lit up the street behind her. She was too busy fending off a second wave of dementors with her own Patronus to give it a good look.
But it very clearly had four legs.
And then all the dementors were gone, just as quickly as they had appeared. The streetlight spluttered back to life.
“You all right?” Tonks, rather shaky and decidedly queasy from the close encounter, leaned back against Remus again as she inspected the narrow street they stood on, with its winding alleys branching off to the sides. “Looks like that was the lot.”
He leaned against her for a moment, too, drawing a long raspy breath, before straightening up and stepping away, rummaging clumsily in his pockets. “I have some chocolate-just let me find it-”
“Here-I’ve got some of the Auror-issue stuff.” She extracted a thick bar wrapped in plain brown paper from her own pocket and broke it in half. “It’s pretty strong.”
“Thanks.” Remus reached out to take the chocolate from her. His fingers, still unsteady, brushed against hers, and she couldn’t help but shiver, even though he snatched his hand away at once.
The chocolate, dark and bittersweet, did its work. Tonks felt her roiling stomach settle as warmth spread all the way to the tips of her toes, and she was certainly steadier on her feet. Remus looked better, too, she thought, not quite so green, although it was a bit hard to tell in the yellow glow of the streetlight.
And so she seized the moment. “I think you’d better show me your Patronus. So I’ll know it if I see it again.”
He stiffened.
“I couldn’t tell what it was, just now.” She crumpled the empty chocolate wrapper and stuffed it back into her pocket. “But it definitely had legs.” She grinned, a little. “I always reckoned you used a non-corporeal one on purpose. Harry told me you taught him to cast a corporeal Patronus when he was in his third year.”
Remus gave her half a smile in return. It was very, very wry.
“You’re quite right,” he said. “You ought to know what mine looks like, at least. There might be an emergency, and you might need to recognise it.” But he hesitated, shrinking into himself a little, before he set his jaw and raised his wand. “Expecto Patronum.”
Silver mist pooled at their feet, but all it did was spin itself into the amorphous cloud that Remus always used for sending messages.
“Sorry,” he muttered, Vanishing it with a flick of his wand. “It’s-not so easy, sometimes, finding the right memory.” The wry half-smile reappeared. “I think I was a bit inspired, before, when a dozen dementors swooped down on us out of nowhere.”
“Yeah,” said Tonks casually, around the lump that had lodged in her throat-he couldn’t even think of enough happy memories to conjure a reliable Patronus? “Me too.”
Remus drew a deep breath and shifted his grip on his wand. Then he looked right at her, in a way that made her shiver every bit as much as the brush of his fingers had done, before dropping his gaze to-
-her lips?
Bloody hell-was that his strongest happy memory? Merlin knew it was hers-
Remus closed his eyes and raised his wand again. “Expecto Patronum.”
Tonks blinked, and made herself go on breathing. She mustn’t miss seeing the bloody Patronus, not after all that. Although she had a pretty good idea what to expect, given how Remus seemed to feel about it.
And yes, it was a wolf. A fine handsome fellow. It circled Remus twice, sniffing at him, tail waving eagerly.
Remus hunched his shoulders and turned away.
It was only a Patronus, not a real wolf, and Tonks knew that perfectly well, but she just couldn’t stand seeing the ears and tail droop so. She whistled once under her breath, holding out her hand, and the wolf trotted over to her instead, alert again. It nudged at her fingers with its silvery nose, and then it raised its head toward the sky and voiced a silent howl before fading to nothing.
“I’m sure you can see,” said Remus quietly, “why I prefer to use a non-corporeal one.”
The lump was back in her throat. “But-he was magnificent. Wolves are brave, and loyal, and intelligent...That’s a fine Patronus.” And a wolf was not a werewolf.
Remus shrugged, and managed a very crooked smile. “It’s not so convenient, really, being forcibly reminded of the part of me I least like to think about.”
There wasn’t a whole lot she could say to that.
He sighed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets once more. “It truly is getting late, Tonks. I’ll see you in a couple of days, for the mission briefing, all right?”
It was not all right. She didn’t want this evening to end, not when they were mourning Sirius together. Not when she had felt Remus’s hand catch her elbow, his back press against her shoulders, his fingers brush past hers. Not when the air around them was still clammy from the dementors’ attack, and the light in Remus’s eyes that he had first found and then lost at the Three Broomsticks had never come back.
Not when he had only called her Nymphadora once.
“Yeah,” she said, swallowing. “See you Friday.”
“Good night.” He gave her another almost-smile, and Disapparated on the spot.
Tonks stared at the place where he had stood, stiff with shame, turning away from his own Patronus. His Patronus. One of the strongest forms of protective magic-the very embodiment of positive emotions. Her hare made her smile when she conjured it, made her feel warm and safe and lucky.
But Remus-far from taking comfort in his Patronus-couldn’t even stand the sight of it.
She pressed her fist against her mouth and bit her knuckle, hard. Because she would not cry.
~ * ~
“Security question, dear!” called Molly through the Burrow’s back door on Friday evening. “What did you trip over at headquarters last year?”
“There’d be a few things to choose from!” Tonks kept her voice light, even though thinking about last year, and the home she had unexpectedly found in that musty old house, made her heart hurt. “But you probably mean the troll’s-foot umbrella stand?”
The door swung open, and Molly ushered her into the bright, warm kitchen.
The first thing she saw was Remus, sitting at the big round table with a mug of tea in his hands. Their eyes met, and a sudden brilliant smile chased the shadows from his face. Her pulse skittered.
“Hullo, lass,” Mad-Eye rumbled.
“Wotcher.” She mustered up an ordinary cheeky grin for her mentor, and even managed not to blush-which was particularly important, as she couldn’t hide a blush these days!-when his magical eye swung round to inspect her as though she were a bug on the end of a pin.
She slid into a chair next to Remus. He smiled at her again, but it was a careful smile this time, and he even pulled away a little, tucking his elbows close against his sides.
She sighed.
Molly set a steaming mug of tea in front of her. “Now that you’re all three here, I’ll leave you to it. Help yourself to as much tea as you’d like, and there are biscuits in the tin.”
“Thank you, Molly,” said Remus quietly, “for letting us impose on your hospitality like this.”
“Nonsense, dear.” Molly rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. “With the security spells in place for Harry’s visit, surely this is the safest place for the Order to meet.”
“When is Harry coming?” asked Tonks. “Have you heard yet?”
“Early tomorrow morning.” Molly beamed. “Albus said he’s going to fetch him late tonight, but they’ve something to do on the way. I’m about to go to make up a bed for him in the twins’ room, so that everything is ready when he gets here!”
She bustled out, closing the door to the kitchen behind her.
“Right, then,” said Mad-Eye, never one for small talk. “Lupin, what’s the status of your preparations?”
Tonks turned to look at Remus, and found he had been looking at her. At Mad-Eye’s words, he blinked, and turned his attention to the old Auror instead.
But he had been looking at her, when she was looking away. And his eyes had been almost-hungry.
Oh, how her heart hurt. If he weren’t being such an obstinate prat-
“I have completed my surveillance of Greyback’s werewolf camp,” said Remus steadily, in answer to Mad-Eye’s question, “and I’m more or less ready to begin the mission.” He swallowed. “However, as we agreed at the last Order meeting, I won’t set out to join the camp until after the full moon, so as to have an entire month to establish some sort of position in the pack before my first transformation there.” He unclenched white-knuckled fingers from around his mug and flattened his hands on the table. “That gives me a little more than two weeks to finish a few other pieces of Order business before I leave.”
Two weeks.
Tonks wondered how long it would be before he came home again after that.
She forced down a swallow of tea.
“What have you learned about the pack?” Mad-Eye’s magical eye, which had been rolling systematically in slow (dizzying) circles, came to rest on Remus for a moment.
“They have quite an orderly lifestyle, really,” said Remus, with half a smile. “They spend their days hunting, one way or another. Some of them set snares for birds and rabbits in the wood. Others walk into town and scrounge through rubbish.” His smile faded. “Or they steal, from shops or homes or vegetable gardens.” He pressed his lips together. “I’ve also seen some of them rough up people who happened to wander into the wood, relieving them of their money and any food they’re carrying.” One finger traced slow patterns along the handle of his mug. “I’m planning to develop exceptional skills at scrounging through rubbish, that or setting snares. The other options for finding a place in the pack are...considerably less appealing.”
Tonks thought of one late night at Grimmauld Place the winter before, when a slightly tipsy Remus had let slip what a point of pride it was for him that, no matter how badly off he had been since finishing at Hogwarts-and, she had begun to guess, that was sometimes very badly off indeed-he had never resorted to theft for survival.
“And of course, you’ve never made off with anyone else’s Charms homework,” Sirius had sniggered, breaking the firewhisky-fuelled contemplative mood.
“Or with a pair of McGonagall’s tartan socks,” Remus had promptly retorted, eyes bright with laughter. “Really, Padfoot, you of all people should know that pilfering in the service of a prank is another matter altogether.”
It wasn’t laughter Tonks saw on his face now. In fact, there was nothing much to see there at all. To the casual observer, his expression would seem calm. Mild. Bland, even.
But Tonks had known Remus better than that for months.
Her throat ached. It was all she could do not to catch his hand and hold it, warm and tight, in her own. But his elbows, still folded carefully against his sides, made it clear that this would be a losing proposition.
Mad-Eye took a sip from his flask (he wouldn’t even drink tea that he’d watched Molly make with her own hands). “How firm is Greyback’s control of the pack?”
Remus drew a breath and loosened the set of his shoulders. “I would say, fairly solid. He spends most of his time with just a few of the werewolves-likely his closest supporters. But he seems to be keeping an eye on the whole group, and I’ve seen several different people back down from confrontations with him.”
“Confrontations, eh?” Mad-Eye leaned forward on his elbows. “What about?”
“I wish I knew.” Remus smiled again, but it was rather grim. “I’ve been unable to get close enough to hear what they’re discussing without risking discovery, so I can only watch.” He lifted his mug and took a sip of tea. “But I will certainly make it my business to identify points of conflict in the camp, and make use of them to weaken Greyback’s influence in any way I can.”
“And you’ll keep us informed,” said Mad-Eye, “about any Death Eater activity in the pack.”
Remus nodded. “That reminds me-we should go over the communication protocols.”
Tonks fished a quill and some parchment out of her satchel. As the backup Order contact for this mission, she might have to-she hoped she would have to-fill in for Mad-Eye at some point. So she took careful notes as Remus talked.
But what she heard make her feel utterly sick.
Remus’s wand was to be kept hidden in a hollow tree, so it wouldn’t be found on him if he were searched-even though that would leave him all but defenceless, save whatever spells he could cast wandlessly. Mad-Eye would check the tree once each day for any messages Remus might have left, scribbled on pages torn from a Muggle notebook, and would meet Remus in the wood for clandestine debriefing meetings once a week-but otherwise, Remus would be left entirely on his own with the werewolf pack. With Fenrir Greyback’s werewolf pack.
For months.
Moon after moon after moon.
And as Remus spoke, his voice grew more and more quiet, and his face went more and more bland.
She took another gulp of tea, swallowing bile.
“Your plan will do,” said Mad-Eye-high praise, from him.
But that only made Tonks wonder why no one had been able to come up with anything better.
“That’s settled, then.” Remus folded his notes and tucked them into a pocket in his robes. “We should let Molly have her kitchen back. It’s rather late.”
Tonks watched him, measuring the tension in his jaw and the stiff angle of his shoulders, entirely at odds with his calm, steady voice.
He looked up. Their eyes met again, at last. Hers, she knew, were full of worry-and probably more.
Remus drew a sharp, quick breath, and swallowed hard. His hand clenched around his mug.
His eyes were hungry again.
“There’s one more thing.” Mad-Eye’s gruff voice shattered the silence.
Remus blinked and turned to face him. Tonks tried to remember how to breathe.
“We all know Greyback is a nasty piece of work.” The old Auror hesitated, uncharacteristically. “Have you read through his Ministry file, lad? All of it?”
Remus stilled. “I have.”
“That bite report, near Cardiff, in 1965.” Mad-Eye cleared his throat. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
“St. Mellons,” said Remus, very quietly. “Yes.”
“If Greyback remembers you, he’s likely to take a...personal interest.” Mad-Eye was staring straight at Remus with both eyes again. “Do you have a plan for that?”
“Yes,” Remus repeated. He forced a tiny smile. “The plan is to keep my head down and stay out of his way. I’ll work on being so very boring that he’ll tire of me quickly, even if he does try to take an interest at first.”
Calm, mild, bland.
But not entirely. The mask slipped for just an instant, leaving him-bleak. Desolate.
And no bloody wonder.
She ached to touch him. To rest her hand on his shoulder as Molly had done, to slip her arm through his and pull him close against her side.
To tangle her fingers in the hair that brushed his collar and pull him toward her for a long, sweet kiss.
Instead, she blinked, twice, and held on to her mug with both hands.
Remus stood abruptly, almost clumsily. “Good night, Alastor. Tonks.”
He was never clumsy, except right around the moon. Which this was not.
“Good night,” she said, and a little quaver got past her guard. “Owl me, yeah? I still owe you a drink.”
This time, he didn’t look at her. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders and slipped through the back door, closing it silently behind him.
Remus, the consummately polite, had actually fled without saying good night to Molly.
Tonks bit her knuckle. Hard.
Mad-Eye was watching her with both eyes, now. “You all right?”
She gave a bitter snort. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who’s got to go and live with Fenrir bloody Greyback.”
“True enough.” Mad-Eye took a deep pull from his flask.
“He’s frightened,” she said, in a small voice. “I’ve never seen him frightened before.” Well, just the one time-Remus had been downright terrified after he’d let himself respond to her kiss. But never when it came to Order business.
“This won’t be an easy mission,” said Mad-Eye, blunt as always. “But Lupin’s strong. I wouldn’t let Dumbledore send him if I didn’t think he could handle it.” He rested one gnarled hand on Tonks’s arm for a moment, surprisingly gently. “The Order needs him, lass. No one else can do this job. And we’ve got to stop the werewolves going over to Voldemort.”
“I know,” she said, miserably.
Mad-Eye stood and pushed open the door leading from the kitchen. “Molly?” he rumbled. “We’re finished here.”
Hurried footsteps sounded, and Molly appeared. She was in her nightclothes now, under a comfortable-looking green housecoat, but she seemed to be wide awake.
“Good night,” said Mad-Eye. “See you Sunday, then.” He stumped through the back door, closing it behind him with a sharp click.
“Erm.” Tonks stood as well, carefully disentangling her feet from all the chair and table legs lying in wait, and smiled awkwardly. “Thanks.” Someone ought to say it, and she seemed to be the only one left.
“Not at all, dear,” said Molly absently, frowning at the door. “Has Remus already gone?”
“Yeah.”
Her voice cracked enough on that single word that Molly turned to frown at her instead.
“Stay for a minute.” Molly refilled Tonks’s mug and poured one for herself. “You look like you could use some more tea.” She sat down at the table and waited for Tonks to settle back into her chair.
For once, the insatiably curious Molly Weasley didn’t ask a single question. She merely reached out and patted Tonks on the arm. But Molly’s silent sympathy lost Tonks the battle she’d been fighting for the last hour. A tear slid down her cheek, and then another, and she only just managed to stop a full-on flood by pressing her fists against her eyes.
“He’s almost ready to leave for his mission,” she said, from behind her hands. “He’s going to have to compromise practically all of his principles just to survive. And-it’s Fenrir Greyback.”
She gulped down something that would have turned into a sob if she had let it.
“He’s afraid, Molly. He’s terrified, and he’s trying so hard not to show it-”
Molly squeezed her shoulder.
Tonks took a deep breath, and another, and then she sat up and drank a long swallow of tea.
“I remember,” said Molly, very quietly, “waiting for my brothers to come home, when they had gone out on Order missions. The waiting is never easy, when there’s someone you love to worry about.”
Now it was Tonks who reached over and squeezed Molly’s hand. In the end, her brothers hadn’t come home.
“If only,” Tonks whispered, “he would let me love him. Let himself love me. It would make all the rest of it a little better.”
“He is being a bit of an idiot,” said Molly, in fond exasperation. “You’ll keep after him, won’t you?”
“Not half,” said Tonks, and a smile worked its way out-even if it was a bit watery for her liking.
~ * ~
Dumbledore’s unexpectedly early arrival with Harry in tow sent Tonks fleeing almost as fast as Remus had done. She spun on her heel, away from the light spilling out from the Burrow’s kitchen window, away from Harry’s curiosity and Dumbledore’s unwelcome sympathy.
The squeeze of Apparition twisted hardest at the lump in her throat.
“Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend,” Molly had urged. “Remus and Mad-Eye are coming-”
Dinner. At the Burrow. With Mad-Eye and Harry and Hermione and the whole Weasley clan watching?
She bloody well thought not.
Not until she worked out how to stop her heart from breaking every time she caught sight of the dread-or the loneliness-behind Remus’s meticulously neutral mask. Or, worst of all, the hungry desperate gaze that followed her when he thought no one was looking.
Because she would not cry.
She landed in the lane in front of the Aurors’ hired cottage and looked around reflexively for dementors, even before she noticed that she had already begun to shiver. When she spotted it-a small one, on its own, down toward the end of the lane-she cast her Patronus.
And almost dropped her wand in shock.
Her Patronus did exactly what it was supposed to do-it made for the dementor, and drove it away out of sight.
Only, it wasn’t a hare anymore.
~ * ~
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