[Kaleidoscope update] Taking Leave
Well. When I first started plotting the HBP section of Kaleidoscope, I did not think it would take six whole chapters to get rid of Remus. ;) But as it turns out, from mousy hair to Remus's history with Greyback to tea and sympathy to Patronus changes, there were a few things that needed to be pulled into the story.
But here we finally are. I've now filled in all the gaps up to Out of Sight, which was written quite a long time ago -- and therefore will need some editing and rewriting! That's the next project...
Taking Leave
Tonks had actually sat down with a blank piece of parchment and started to chew on the end of her much-abused quill, deciding to take matters into her own hands, when an owl came swooping in through the open window.
The owl wasn’t one she’d ever seen before, but the handwriting on the envelope-Nymphadora Tonks, in strong, square, letters-was utterly familiar.
She rummaged in the cupboards until she turned up an owl treat and then settled into her chair again, holding the letter tightly in both hands. She hadn’t been at all sure whether Remus really would write to her after his abrupt departure from the Burrow the night that Dumbledore brought Harry. Even though she had asked him to.
But he had.
It had taken four days, but he had.
Dear Tonks,
Greetings from unexpectedly drizzly Cornwall. I’m travelling on business for our orderly friends, and it seems I’ll be stuck here for a few days whilst certain potentially useful people decide whether to help us or not. It’s a good thing I’ve brought an umbrella.
And on he went-two dry, witty pages of anecdotes from his mission. She could hear his voice in her head, and it made her smile. She even laughed out loud. More than once.
But there were plenty of things he didn’t say. Such as exactly where he actually was, or when he would be back. Or anything at all about meeting up for a drink, even though that was why she had asked him to write.
And he didn’t call her Nymphadora.
“I could just Apparate down there, if I knew where to go,” she muttered to the rumpled-looking owl that sat blinking at her. “It’s not like he’s flown to Mars.”
Wotcher, Remus, she scribbled in reply.
Stay dry! And watch out for the likes of those little old ladies trailing poodles you saw in the town square-they could be up to all manner of mischief.
Where in Cornwall are you? I could meet you there for a drink, instead of at the Three Broomsticks, on my next night off. It would be a nice change from patrolling for dementors.
Good luck with the potentially useful people, and I’ll see you soon.
-T
Another letter came, two days later. Tonks was expecting it, this time, but of course the owl found her when she was on duty. The last hour of her shift, spent prowling round Hogsmeade just outside the limits of the village with wand in hand, was utterly interminable.
And even when she finally retreated into her own little room in the cottage to give the letter a good read, there was still not a word about where Remus was. Still not a word about meeting for a drink. This letter, like the first, was nothing but amusing anecdotes and observations-just the sort of tale Remus used to tell in the evenings they spent together with Sirius at Grimmauld Place.
Just the sort of tale Tonks wanted to hear him tell her himself, so she could watch the laughter crinkle his eyes. Maybe he would even let her rest her hand on his arm again, for a change, the way he always used to-
The letter crumpled in her fist.
“I see what he’s done,” she blurted, startling the patient little owl that was still there, waiting for her to send a reply. “He’s gone back to being friends while making sure he keeps the length of an entire bleeding country between us.”
~ * ~
Remus was spending another very long, very boring day in a small village in Cornwall, waiting for an exceedingly suspicious Ravenclaw, elderly but influential, to make up her mind about Dumbledore’s request for help.
Against all odds, it was raining again.
He had spent most of the day in the village’s public library, reading the Muggle newspapers and then a comfortingly trashy mystery novel. Now he and his frail, spell-strengthened umbrella (and a good Impervius Charm) were strolling along the seaside, watching gulls fight over scraps of food dropped by tourists who had long since fled for cover from the weather. One distant bird caught his eye, with its oddly ungainly flight, until he realised that it wasn’t a gull at all, but an owl bearing post.
The plucky little owl that Dumbledore had lent him for this journey.
“Use her for anything you need to take care of,” the old man had said breezily. Dumbledore meant, of course, that Remus should tie up all of the loose ends in his life before he vanished into Greyback’s wood for the forseeable future.
What Remus had been using the little owl for was to write to Nymphadora.
It was all entirely justified. He’d gone through this in his head a dozen times before sending the first letter. First, he’d already given up his flat, and he had no other business that needed wrapping up. Second, Nymphadora had asked him to owl her. And third, composing entertaining things to put in his letters gave him something to occupy his mind during these endless days of waiting-which was important, because that kept him from dwelling on things he’d rather not, like his upcoming undercover mission. Or on things he mustn’t, like how much he missed Sirius.
Not to mention how much he was going to miss Nymphadora after he had gone underground and could no longer even send her letters.
The owl glided down to perch on the stone wall that ran along the seaside walk, holding out its missive. Nymphadora’s exuberant handwriting looped across the envelope, and Remus found himself grinning at it, like the fool that he was. Trusting to his Impervius-the umbrella was mostly for camouflage in this primarily Muggle village-he opened the letter and began to read.
The grin crimped at once into something rather more wry.
Oi, Remus,
Your letters are giving me a good laugh-but don’t think I can’t tell you’re avoiding me. I want to see you. I want to buy us a round of butterbeers, or whatever touristy Muggle drink they have in Cornish seaside villages, and have you make me laugh in person.
I know you’ve got to go away soon. I know I won’t see you for ages after that. But I don’t care-I love you, and I want to spend as much time with you as I can before you go.
Tell me where you are? I’ll turn up for an evening, and we’ll have a drink, and we’ll make each other laugh.
Don’t be such a bloody stubborn prat. Listen to me: I love you.
-T
The last three words were underlined so emphatically that the parchment had torn.
Remus folded the letter, very carefully, smoothing the folds into neat sharp creases. He slipped it into an inside pocket of his cloak (currently Transfigured into a Muggle anorak), next to Nymphadora’s first letter, from a few days before.
Next to his heart.
A sudden gust from the sea blew his poor faithful umbrella inside-out, despite the Strengthening Charm. Remus decided he had had quite enough of the wind and the rain; it was time for him to take his daily ramble through the souvenir shops that lined the strand, pretending to be a tourist. After he had made his way along the High Street as slowly as he could, it would just about be late enough to find himself a cheap pub supper, and then another day of aimless waiting would nearly be over.
He was browsing his way through the third shell-themed gift shop in a row when a flash of pink caught his eye.
He leaned closer for a better look.
From a black silk cord hung a teardrop pendant of polished stone, deep pink with veins of white and gold. It was bright, and warm, and utterly beautiful.
For a mad, wild moment, he found himself holding the smooth stone in his hands, looking at the price tag (twenty Muggle pounds), and deciding that he really could manage to miss a few meals, if that would let him give this lovely thing to Nymphadora.
“Can I help you with something?”
Remus started. A shop assistant was hovering at his elbow, frowning.
He was certain he couldn’t possibly look as shabby as he usually did, with his robes Transfigured into decent-enough Muggle clothing. But a flush of shame heated his face, all the same.
He took a deep breath and returned the necklace to its hook. “No, thank you.” He tried a wry, self-deprecating little smile. “That necklace made me think of a certain young woman of my acquaintance, but I think if I gave it to her, things might get...complicated.”
“Ah.” The shop assistant returned his smile, tentatively. “Can’t be too careful, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” said Remus.
Partly to reassure the woman that he really wasn’t dodgy, he spent a moment browsing through a rack of postcards near the till. He found himself drawn to pink all over again-this time, to a postcard with a photo of a luminous sunset over the sea.
“Going to send your young lady a note instead, then?” The assistant was almost pleasant now, ringing him up.
“Yes.” Remus grinned at her, carefully friendly. “I think that’s more my speed.”
He slid the postcard into his pocket, with Nymphadora’s letters. Then he opened his battered umbrella and headed out once more into the rain.
~ * ~
The next time Tonks saw the rumpled little owl, it was carrying a postcard.
On the front was a frozen Muggle photograph of a sunset at sea-craggy boulders and crashing white foam under a deep pink sky, shading to purple. The colours were beautiful. If she’d been able, she would have tried some of them out on her hair right away.
On the back was-
-nothing?
Tonks thought for a moment.
“I solemnly swear,” she said, tapping the postcard with her wand, “that I am up to no good.”
Neat, careful handwriting spidered across the card.
Dear Tonks,
You’re my best mate. I’m grateful for your friendship, more than I can say.
-R
And that was all.
“Damn you,” Tonks snapped at the postcard, startling the owl into a hoot of alarm. “Sorry,” she told it, and gave it an extra treat. “It’s not your fault he’s an absolute, utter idiot.”
She looked at the deep rich colours in the photograph, and turned the postcard over to read the note again.
“Message bloody well received,” she muttered. “Mate, my arse.”
But to her great relief, letters kept arriving all the next week, even as the moon grew fatter. Remus never did say where he was, except that at some point he had left Cornwall for Dorset, and then Norfolk. Every time the little owl arrived bearing a letter full of cheer and humour and no actual information whatsoever, Tonks ground her teeth and cursed Remus for his stubborn bloodymindedness-and then took up her own quill to write the most lighthearted, entertaining reply she could possibly produce.
Anything to keep him writing.
Besides, she reckoned, he couldn’t avoid her forever. At some point, he would have to come back where she could find him. He was leaving for Greyback’s pack right after the full moon-but he had promised to be at the Burrow for Harry’s birthday.
Finally, inevitably, there came the night when the moon swelled to full.
Tonks lay awake in her tiny bedroom in the Aurors’ Hogsmeade cottage, kicking restlessly at the bedclothes and scowling at the cold light that flooded the mist-sodden sky. Dumbledore had assured her that there would be Wolfsbane this month. But that was before Remus had gone away. She could only pray that somehow, the promised potion had found its way to Dorset, or Norfolk, or wherever he’d been when he’d needed to swallow his daily doses.
His letters, naturally, hadn’t mentioned the moon at all.
She dozed off at last, snatching a few hours of fitful sleep, but woke promptly at moonset, when she’d charmed her wand to chime and wake her. She dressed hurriedly, choked down a piece of toast and a cup of tea, and forced herself to wait five extra minutes. But that was as much as she could stand.
It was a bit early to be bothering Remus, really. He would only just have come through the transformation. But she had to start a duty shift in-she squinted at the clock on the wall-forty-five minutes. She simply had to know-was he all right? Had he hurt himself as badly as the last time? Was anyone looking after him?
And-that was not, in fact, the whole story. She was a little ashamed of herself for this, but-she wanted to see him right after the moon. While he was still too exhausted to hide what he was thinking. Because this was her last chance to break through his bloody noble self-sacrificing idiocy and find some happiness for them both, before he left on this mission that would keep him away for months.
Tonks took a very deep breath, grabbed a large pinch of Floo powder, and hurtled into the fireplace.
The next thing she knew, she was right back in the Aurors’ cottage, coughing up soot.
Remus’s Floo was blocked.
“Right, then,” she muttered.
She Transfigured her Auror robes into a faded denim jacket, held her wand at the ready, and Apparated.
The courtyard behind the old building was full of dustbins, skips, and assorted rubbish. One seedy-looking man in Muggle clothing was snoring in a corner, but otherwise it was deserted at this early hour.
A sign in one of the basement windows caught her eye.
To Let, it announced.
She crept closer and peered past the sign into the dark, cramped flat. The familiar furniture was all there-the battered metal table, the rickety chairs, the sagging wall bed done up as an attempt at a sofa. But not a book or a stack of parchment to be seen. And certainly no one sleeping off the effects of the transformation, with or without the help of Wolfsbane.
It was exactly as though no Remus Lupin had ever lived there.
“He hasn’t left for good already,” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry. “He can’t have done.” Hadn’t he promised Molly he would be at Harry’s birthday tea?
Another man had come shambling unsteadily into the courtyard, and he was advancing on Tonks with a look in his eye she didn’t much like. She ducked behind the largest skip bin and Disapparated.
Her reappearance in the front room of the cottage startled Savage, who was frying eggs in the kitchen. “Oi, what’d you come back for?” he called. “Thought you had a shift.”
“Not yet,” she called back. “Anyway, I forgot, I’ve got to send an owl.”
She scrabbled through the cottage’s rather musty writing desk and turned up a piece of parchment, a quill, and a half-full bottle of ink.
R-
Where are you? Did things go all right last night? I thought you’d have come back from Norfolk by now, but this morning I saw you’ve moved out of your flat!
I’ve a shift today and I can’t get away until five, but I’ll be at the party as soon as I can. Don’t you dare set off without giving me a chance to say goodbye! Not if you’re my best mate.
Also, there’s something I’ve got to show you-in person-before you go.
Wish our friend a happy birthday, and I’ll see you soon.
-T
“If he’s already left without so much as a word,” she growled to Malachi, her own little owl, “he’ll be one sorry git when he sees me next.” Her scowl was fierce.
But her hands were shaking.
~ * ~
“Goodbye, you lot,” said Remus lightly. “I need to be on my way. Happy birthday, Harry!”
A fast-paced game of Exploding Snap had drawn in all the young people in the Burrow-even a slightly nervous-looking Hermione, who Remus strongly suspected was only playing because it was Harry’s birthday party.
Harry looked up with a ready grin that did his heart good to see. “Bye, Remus. And thanks!”
Some of the others called out their goodbyes to him as well, but then Ginny’s hand of cards exploded, and all the players convulsed with laughter. Remus smiled and turned away.
“Best of luck to you.” Arthur gripped his hand, hard.
Bill did the same, with a resolute nod that Remus returned in kind.
“Oh, Remus. Be careful! We’ll miss you!” Molly pulled him into a very long, very tight hug. “But aren’t you going to wait for Tonks? I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”
“It will soon be time for me to meet Alastor at the wood,” said Remus, pitching his voice too low for the children to hear. “I thought I’d wait outside and try to catch Tonks as she arrives.”
“I see,” said Molly, suddenly looking disproportionately pleased. “Be sure to tell her we’ve saved her a piece of the birthday cake.”
It was quiet outside in the chilly mist, a sharp contrast to the cosy chaos of the Burrow. Remus set his rucksack down and paced, slowly, back and forth along the edge of the vegetable garden. It was amazing what a difference the Wolfsbane Potion made, that and a good long nap in the Hogwarts hospital wing. He was a little tired, and a little sore, but he felt almost-ha!-human again already.
Even so, he was restless. Anxious.
Two weeks on his own amongst strangers, running errands for Dumbledore, and he had been ready enough to leave his life behind. He had cut loose all of his ties-except for sending those last self-indulgent owls to Nymphadora-and steeled himself to face what he had to do.
But then today there had been Poppy Pomfrey’s firm but gentle fussing after the transformation, and Harry’s spontaneous smile when Remus turned up at his birthday tea, and Molly and Arthur’s way of making him feel truly welcome in their home. Questions from Hermione, and jokes from the twins-
The careful distance he had spent the last two weeks building, between himself and the people he knew he had to leave behind, had shattered in the space of a day.
And now, he had to take his leave of Nymphadora.
Don’t you dare set off without giving me a chance to say goodbye, her hastily scribbled letter that morning had warned.
That was precisely what he had planned to do, of course. He would have sent one last owl, wishing her well, and promising to write again when he could-which would have been at Christmas, when Dumbledore had requested that he slip away from the camp and come back to the Burrow to make a full report to the Order. An attempt, perhaps, to placate him with the prospect of a respite after a mere five months underground.
Remus pressed his lips together and went on pacing with slow, weary steps.
He had done so well, these two weeks away, remembering to think of Nymphadora as a friend. The cheery mate who had spent so many evenings brightening up the old Black house for Sirius-and for him. He would miss that dear friend, of course; her cheeky jokes, and her bright colours, and her bravery and quick thinking on missions. But it was so much safer to miss those things than to miss-
No.
And it was the day after the moon. Dangerous. Exhaustion led to mistakes, sometimes. He probably should have just sent an owl, after all.
But Nymphadora had asked him to wait for her.
And she did say she had something important she had to show him.
If a weak, selfish part of Remus was secretly glad that circumstances had manoeuvered him into seeing her once more before he left-
-that was something he absolutely must not think about.
A soft pop of Apparition announced Nymphadora’s arrival. Remus turned, quickly, and couldn’t stop himself from grinning-it had been more than two weeks since he’d seen her, after all. His best mate.
She smiled back, her eyes bright. “Wotcher. You are still here.”
But his grin faltered when he saw just how tired she looked. She still had the dark smudges under her eyes that had first appeared after Bellatrix had hexed her-after Sirius had-well. And her hair was still the fine, soft brown Remus had first seen when he kept his grief-stricken vigil at her bedside in St. Mungo’s. It was pretty in its own way. Delicate.
But he missed the pink.
And he hated to think of the moment when he’d seen the colour fade away-that night in his flat, when the two of them had worked out the truth about his history with Greyback.
His fault.
Just one of the many reasons she would be so much better off with him gone away for a while.
“Are you all right?” he asked, shoving his hands safely into his pockets and allowing himself to take a couple of steps toward her. “Are you-not Metamorphosing, yet?”
A faint flush stained her cheeks, which was all the answer he needed. Normally, she would have hidden any incipient blush before it had a chance to show.
“Not yet,” she muttered. But then she straightened her shoulders. “It’s a mix of things, I reckon. Grief-” he winced- “and non-stop dementor duty in Hogsmeade, and being busy all the time with Order work, and recovering from that hex of Auntie Bella’s.”
Her chin went up, and she took a step nearer.
Near enough that he could breathe the faintest scent of lavender, and see her pulse flutter in her throat.
Deep, deep in his pockets, his hands clenched into fists.
“Not to mention,” she said, low and intense, “the man I love being an absolute, utter prat.”
Nymphadora, he wanted to say. He wanted so badly to touch her warm hands, her soft hair, the curve of her shoulder-
He swallowed, hard. His hands stayed where they were.
She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “How are you feeling?” She tilted her head, studying him. “You look pretty good, considering. Did you have Wolfsbane? Where did you stay last night?”
“I’m fine.” He managed a smile. “I did have the potion. And I was at Hogwarts last night-Poppy wanted me there so she could hover in the morning.”
“Hogwarts.” Hurt shadowed her eyes, making him swallow again. “I’ve been in Hogsmeade all week. I could have stopped in to see you, this morning.”
He knew that.
He also knew what an enormous mistake it would have been to see her when he was utterly exhausted from the transformation, when he couldn’t trust himself to be strong enough to do what was right.
Especially considering what a struggle it was even now. He was still so weary, and his nerves were stretched taut just thinking about what he had to do-
-holding Nymphadora close against his heart would feel so very warm-
“Tonks.” He took a deep breath and forced his fists, still deep in his pockets, to unclench. “You-you said there was something you needed to show me, before I left?”
She huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Watch this.”
She took a couple of steps back and fixed him with a long, level look. Then she raised her wand.
“Expecto Patronum.”
He blinked at her, puzzled, as silver mist swirled and began to take shape. Why did she need to show him her Patronus? He’d seen it dozens of times-
And then he stared.
The shape was all wrong-it was too tall, the legs too long, the tail trailing too far behind-
“Oh, no,” he choked. “Merlin, no.”
Looking up at him, plumed tail waving gently, was a perfect twin to his own silver wolf.
~ * ~
Tonks watched Remus watching her wolf. He looked gutted.
When he finally met her gaze, his face was twisted with shame. “It changed,” he said, his voice hoarser than it had been. “That only happens if-some great emotional upheaval-”
She shoved her wand back in her pocket and crossed her arms again. Her eyes held his until he grimaced and looked away.
“It’s not worth it,” he whispered. “I’m not worth it.”
Damn him. But the trouble was, he really believed that.
“I didn’t choose to change my Patronus,” she snapped. He flinched, and she sighed, her face softening. “But I wanted to you to see what’s happened. Because you seem to think I’m suffering from some kind of temporary delusion. I think this proves that I really, truly love you.”
For just an instant, there was so much hunger in his eyes that it made her mouth go dry.
But then he blinked and rubbed a hand slowly across his face. “That’s not the only emotional upheaval you’ve had lately,” he said, slowly. Calmly. “I think it’s most likely the combination of-of everything-”
“Would you shut up!”
He did, mouth slighly agape.
A small, sane part of her brain was now pointing out that maybe shouting at Remus wasn’t quite the right way to go about wooing him. But he was so utterly infuriating.
She clenched her fists and took a step nearer.
He swallowed, hard, and his hands went right back into his pockets again.
“Of course I miss Sirius,” she said, wincing as Remus flinched again. “Of course it’s hard being on dementor patrols all the bloody time. Of course I’m worried about everyone in the Order, and you in particular with this new mission of yours.”
She reached out and curled her fingers around his forearm, above where his hand disappeared into his pocket.
He closed his eyes before she could look for that flash of hunger again, but she felt him shiver.
She pressed on. “But mostly all this is because I love you, and I know that you love me, and it’s killing me to see you denying both of us a chance to be happy.”
He shook his head, hopelessly, and slid away from her grip on his arm. “Being with me would never make you happy, Tonks, not in the long run.” He drew a long, shaky breath. “Look, it will be months before we see each other again. Time apart is exactly what we need. You’ll find someone else-someone who isn’t so old and poor and dangerous. You’ll be able to forget about all this, and we can go on being friends.” He tried to smile at her. “We’re very good as friends, don’t you think?”
“That,” she snapped, “is quite possibly the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard you say. I am not going to stop loving you.” She pushed her hands through her limp, drab hair and tugged at it in frustration. “I will wait for you, for as long as it takes, until you stop being such a prat and-and help me turn our friendship into something amazing.”
He was silent, then, for a very long time. His face was unreadable, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes at all.
She waited.
“I do have to be going,” he said at last. “Mad-Eye must be waiting for me at the wood by now.” He attempted another smile. “Let’s take our leave-as friends.”
Her throat closed up. This was it. Remus was really leaving.
“I want a hug, at least,” she said. There was nothing to lose at this point.
He went very still for a moment, but then he managed to raise an eyebrow. “I’m not so certain that’s something we’d do if we’re trying to be friends.”
Tonks rolled her eyes (it helped keep them from filling with tears, for one thing). “That is absolute bollocks. If my best mate is going away for months and months, I’m bloody well going to hug him goodbye.”
She gave him her very fiercest glare.
He stared at her.
She raised an eyebrow and tapped her foot, ostentatiously. “Hug, Lupin.”
After another silent moment, the corner of his mouth twitched. He huffed a rueful half-laugh and opened his arms.
She closed the distance between them in an instant and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.
He held himself absolutely rigid. His hands came up and settled gingerly on her back, barely touching. She didn’t think he was breathing at all.
But she could feel the tension vibrating through him, like a tightly coiled spring.
What would happen if he ever let go of that iron control?
She raised her head without even thinking, her lips starving for the taste of his.
“No,” he whispered. “Nymphadora-”
He broke away from her grasp and took two steps back, breathing very hard.
“I’ve got to go.” His voice was hoarse. “Mad-Eye-”
“Go, then,” she said, “and stay safe.” Her chin went up. “But I don’t care how long you’ll be gone. I’ll be waiting, Remus. I love you.”
Remus hitched his shabby rucksack over one shoulder, drank her in with one last long, desperate look, and spun on his heel, Disapparating with a tidy little pop.
Tonks spent a moment trying to breathe, and another moment digging her fingernails into her palms until there was no longer any danger of tears.
And then she squared her shoulders, set her jaw, and marched up to the door of the Burrow.
There was a birthday party, and she was invited.
~ * ~
[ Kaleidoscope series index ]
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But here we finally are. I've now filled in all the gaps up to Out of Sight, which was written quite a long time ago -- and therefore will need some editing and rewriting! That's the next project...
- Taking Leave (4950 words | PG/mild profanity | HBP)
Remus is cutting all his ties, steeling himself to leave the Order behind and join up with Greyback's pack. Tonks knows he has to leave, but that doesn't mean she is willing to give up.
Taking Leave
Tonks had actually sat down with a blank piece of parchment and started to chew on the end of her much-abused quill, deciding to take matters into her own hands, when an owl came swooping in through the open window.
The owl wasn’t one she’d ever seen before, but the handwriting on the envelope-Nymphadora Tonks, in strong, square, letters-was utterly familiar.
She rummaged in the cupboards until she turned up an owl treat and then settled into her chair again, holding the letter tightly in both hands. She hadn’t been at all sure whether Remus really would write to her after his abrupt departure from the Burrow the night that Dumbledore brought Harry. Even though she had asked him to.
But he had.
It had taken four days, but he had.
Dear Tonks,
Greetings from unexpectedly drizzly Cornwall. I’m travelling on business for our orderly friends, and it seems I’ll be stuck here for a few days whilst certain potentially useful people decide whether to help us or not. It’s a good thing I’ve brought an umbrella.
And on he went-two dry, witty pages of anecdotes from his mission. She could hear his voice in her head, and it made her smile. She even laughed out loud. More than once.
But there were plenty of things he didn’t say. Such as exactly where he actually was, or when he would be back. Or anything at all about meeting up for a drink, even though that was why she had asked him to write.
And he didn’t call her Nymphadora.
“I could just Apparate down there, if I knew where to go,” she muttered to the rumpled-looking owl that sat blinking at her. “It’s not like he’s flown to Mars.”
Wotcher, Remus, she scribbled in reply.
Stay dry! And watch out for the likes of those little old ladies trailing poodles you saw in the town square-they could be up to all manner of mischief.
Where in Cornwall are you? I could meet you there for a drink, instead of at the Three Broomsticks, on my next night off. It would be a nice change from patrolling for dementors.
Good luck with the potentially useful people, and I’ll see you soon.
-T
Another letter came, two days later. Tonks was expecting it, this time, but of course the owl found her when she was on duty. The last hour of her shift, spent prowling round Hogsmeade just outside the limits of the village with wand in hand, was utterly interminable.
And even when she finally retreated into her own little room in the cottage to give the letter a good read, there was still not a word about where Remus was. Still not a word about meeting for a drink. This letter, like the first, was nothing but amusing anecdotes and observations-just the sort of tale Remus used to tell in the evenings they spent together with Sirius at Grimmauld Place.
Just the sort of tale Tonks wanted to hear him tell her himself, so she could watch the laughter crinkle his eyes. Maybe he would even let her rest her hand on his arm again, for a change, the way he always used to-
The letter crumpled in her fist.
“I see what he’s done,” she blurted, startling the patient little owl that was still there, waiting for her to send a reply. “He’s gone back to being friends while making sure he keeps the length of an entire bleeding country between us.”
~ * ~
Remus was spending another very long, very boring day in a small village in Cornwall, waiting for an exceedingly suspicious Ravenclaw, elderly but influential, to make up her mind about Dumbledore’s request for help.
Against all odds, it was raining again.
He had spent most of the day in the village’s public library, reading the Muggle newspapers and then a comfortingly trashy mystery novel. Now he and his frail, spell-strengthened umbrella (and a good Impervius Charm) were strolling along the seaside, watching gulls fight over scraps of food dropped by tourists who had long since fled for cover from the weather. One distant bird caught his eye, with its oddly ungainly flight, until he realised that it wasn’t a gull at all, but an owl bearing post.
The plucky little owl that Dumbledore had lent him for this journey.
“Use her for anything you need to take care of,” the old man had said breezily. Dumbledore meant, of course, that Remus should tie up all of the loose ends in his life before he vanished into Greyback’s wood for the forseeable future.
What Remus had been using the little owl for was to write to Nymphadora.
It was all entirely justified. He’d gone through this in his head a dozen times before sending the first letter. First, he’d already given up his flat, and he had no other business that needed wrapping up. Second, Nymphadora had asked him to owl her. And third, composing entertaining things to put in his letters gave him something to occupy his mind during these endless days of waiting-which was important, because that kept him from dwelling on things he’d rather not, like his upcoming undercover mission. Or on things he mustn’t, like how much he missed Sirius.
Not to mention how much he was going to miss Nymphadora after he had gone underground and could no longer even send her letters.
The owl glided down to perch on the stone wall that ran along the seaside walk, holding out its missive. Nymphadora’s exuberant handwriting looped across the envelope, and Remus found himself grinning at it, like the fool that he was. Trusting to his Impervius-the umbrella was mostly for camouflage in this primarily Muggle village-he opened the letter and began to read.
The grin crimped at once into something rather more wry.
Oi, Remus,
Your letters are giving me a good laugh-but don’t think I can’t tell you’re avoiding me. I want to see you. I want to buy us a round of butterbeers, or whatever touristy Muggle drink they have in Cornish seaside villages, and have you make me laugh in person.
I know you’ve got to go away soon. I know I won’t see you for ages after that. But I don’t care-I love you, and I want to spend as much time with you as I can before you go.
Tell me where you are? I’ll turn up for an evening, and we’ll have a drink, and we’ll make each other laugh.
Don’t be such a bloody stubborn prat. Listen to me: I love you.
-T
The last three words were underlined so emphatically that the parchment had torn.
Remus folded the letter, very carefully, smoothing the folds into neat sharp creases. He slipped it into an inside pocket of his cloak (currently Transfigured into a Muggle anorak), next to Nymphadora’s first letter, from a few days before.
Next to his heart.
A sudden gust from the sea blew his poor faithful umbrella inside-out, despite the Strengthening Charm. Remus decided he had had quite enough of the wind and the rain; it was time for him to take his daily ramble through the souvenir shops that lined the strand, pretending to be a tourist. After he had made his way along the High Street as slowly as he could, it would just about be late enough to find himself a cheap pub supper, and then another day of aimless waiting would nearly be over.
He was browsing his way through the third shell-themed gift shop in a row when a flash of pink caught his eye.
He leaned closer for a better look.
From a black silk cord hung a teardrop pendant of polished stone, deep pink with veins of white and gold. It was bright, and warm, and utterly beautiful.
For a mad, wild moment, he found himself holding the smooth stone in his hands, looking at the price tag (twenty Muggle pounds), and deciding that he really could manage to miss a few meals, if that would let him give this lovely thing to Nymphadora.
“Can I help you with something?”
Remus started. A shop assistant was hovering at his elbow, frowning.
He was certain he couldn’t possibly look as shabby as he usually did, with his robes Transfigured into decent-enough Muggle clothing. But a flush of shame heated his face, all the same.
He took a deep breath and returned the necklace to its hook. “No, thank you.” He tried a wry, self-deprecating little smile. “That necklace made me think of a certain young woman of my acquaintance, but I think if I gave it to her, things might get...complicated.”
“Ah.” The shop assistant returned his smile, tentatively. “Can’t be too careful, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” said Remus.
Partly to reassure the woman that he really wasn’t dodgy, he spent a moment browsing through a rack of postcards near the till. He found himself drawn to pink all over again-this time, to a postcard with a photo of a luminous sunset over the sea.
“Going to send your young lady a note instead, then?” The assistant was almost pleasant now, ringing him up.
“Yes.” Remus grinned at her, carefully friendly. “I think that’s more my speed.”
He slid the postcard into his pocket, with Nymphadora’s letters. Then he opened his battered umbrella and headed out once more into the rain.
~ * ~
The next time Tonks saw the rumpled little owl, it was carrying a postcard.
On the front was a frozen Muggle photograph of a sunset at sea-craggy boulders and crashing white foam under a deep pink sky, shading to purple. The colours were beautiful. If she’d been able, she would have tried some of them out on her hair right away.
On the back was-
-nothing?
Tonks thought for a moment.
“I solemnly swear,” she said, tapping the postcard with her wand, “that I am up to no good.”
Neat, careful handwriting spidered across the card.
Dear Tonks,
You’re my best mate. I’m grateful for your friendship, more than I can say.
-R
And that was all.
“Damn you,” Tonks snapped at the postcard, startling the owl into a hoot of alarm. “Sorry,” she told it, and gave it an extra treat. “It’s not your fault he’s an absolute, utter idiot.”
She looked at the deep rich colours in the photograph, and turned the postcard over to read the note again.
“Message bloody well received,” she muttered. “Mate, my arse.”
But to her great relief, letters kept arriving all the next week, even as the moon grew fatter. Remus never did say where he was, except that at some point he had left Cornwall for Dorset, and then Norfolk. Every time the little owl arrived bearing a letter full of cheer and humour and no actual information whatsoever, Tonks ground her teeth and cursed Remus for his stubborn bloodymindedness-and then took up her own quill to write the most lighthearted, entertaining reply she could possibly produce.
Anything to keep him writing.
Besides, she reckoned, he couldn’t avoid her forever. At some point, he would have to come back where she could find him. He was leaving for Greyback’s pack right after the full moon-but he had promised to be at the Burrow for Harry’s birthday.
Finally, inevitably, there came the night when the moon swelled to full.
Tonks lay awake in her tiny bedroom in the Aurors’ Hogsmeade cottage, kicking restlessly at the bedclothes and scowling at the cold light that flooded the mist-sodden sky. Dumbledore had assured her that there would be Wolfsbane this month. But that was before Remus had gone away. She could only pray that somehow, the promised potion had found its way to Dorset, or Norfolk, or wherever he’d been when he’d needed to swallow his daily doses.
His letters, naturally, hadn’t mentioned the moon at all.
She dozed off at last, snatching a few hours of fitful sleep, but woke promptly at moonset, when she’d charmed her wand to chime and wake her. She dressed hurriedly, choked down a piece of toast and a cup of tea, and forced herself to wait five extra minutes. But that was as much as she could stand.
It was a bit early to be bothering Remus, really. He would only just have come through the transformation. But she had to start a duty shift in-she squinted at the clock on the wall-forty-five minutes. She simply had to know-was he all right? Had he hurt himself as badly as the last time? Was anyone looking after him?
And-that was not, in fact, the whole story. She was a little ashamed of herself for this, but-she wanted to see him right after the moon. While he was still too exhausted to hide what he was thinking. Because this was her last chance to break through his bloody noble self-sacrificing idiocy and find some happiness for them both, before he left on this mission that would keep him away for months.
Tonks took a very deep breath, grabbed a large pinch of Floo powder, and hurtled into the fireplace.
The next thing she knew, she was right back in the Aurors’ cottage, coughing up soot.
Remus’s Floo was blocked.
“Right, then,” she muttered.
She Transfigured her Auror robes into a faded denim jacket, held her wand at the ready, and Apparated.
The courtyard behind the old building was full of dustbins, skips, and assorted rubbish. One seedy-looking man in Muggle clothing was snoring in a corner, but otherwise it was deserted at this early hour.
A sign in one of the basement windows caught her eye.
To Let, it announced.
She crept closer and peered past the sign into the dark, cramped flat. The familiar furniture was all there-the battered metal table, the rickety chairs, the sagging wall bed done up as an attempt at a sofa. But not a book or a stack of parchment to be seen. And certainly no one sleeping off the effects of the transformation, with or without the help of Wolfsbane.
It was exactly as though no Remus Lupin had ever lived there.
“He hasn’t left for good already,” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry. “He can’t have done.” Hadn’t he promised Molly he would be at Harry’s birthday tea?
Another man had come shambling unsteadily into the courtyard, and he was advancing on Tonks with a look in his eye she didn’t much like. She ducked behind the largest skip bin and Disapparated.
Her reappearance in the front room of the cottage startled Savage, who was frying eggs in the kitchen. “Oi, what’d you come back for?” he called. “Thought you had a shift.”
“Not yet,” she called back. “Anyway, I forgot, I’ve got to send an owl.”
She scrabbled through the cottage’s rather musty writing desk and turned up a piece of parchment, a quill, and a half-full bottle of ink.
R-
Where are you? Did things go all right last night? I thought you’d have come back from Norfolk by now, but this morning I saw you’ve moved out of your flat!
I’ve a shift today and I can’t get away until five, but I’ll be at the party as soon as I can. Don’t you dare set off without giving me a chance to say goodbye! Not if you’re my best mate.
Also, there’s something I’ve got to show you-in person-before you go.
Wish our friend a happy birthday, and I’ll see you soon.
-T
“If he’s already left without so much as a word,” she growled to Malachi, her own little owl, “he’ll be one sorry git when he sees me next.” Her scowl was fierce.
But her hands were shaking.
~ * ~
“Goodbye, you lot,” said Remus lightly. “I need to be on my way. Happy birthday, Harry!”
A fast-paced game of Exploding Snap had drawn in all the young people in the Burrow-even a slightly nervous-looking Hermione, who Remus strongly suspected was only playing because it was Harry’s birthday party.
Harry looked up with a ready grin that did his heart good to see. “Bye, Remus. And thanks!”
Some of the others called out their goodbyes to him as well, but then Ginny’s hand of cards exploded, and all the players convulsed with laughter. Remus smiled and turned away.
“Best of luck to you.” Arthur gripped his hand, hard.
Bill did the same, with a resolute nod that Remus returned in kind.
“Oh, Remus. Be careful! We’ll miss you!” Molly pulled him into a very long, very tight hug. “But aren’t you going to wait for Tonks? I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”
“It will soon be time for me to meet Alastor at the wood,” said Remus, pitching his voice too low for the children to hear. “I thought I’d wait outside and try to catch Tonks as she arrives.”
“I see,” said Molly, suddenly looking disproportionately pleased. “Be sure to tell her we’ve saved her a piece of the birthday cake.”
It was quiet outside in the chilly mist, a sharp contrast to the cosy chaos of the Burrow. Remus set his rucksack down and paced, slowly, back and forth along the edge of the vegetable garden. It was amazing what a difference the Wolfsbane Potion made, that and a good long nap in the Hogwarts hospital wing. He was a little tired, and a little sore, but he felt almost-ha!-human again already.
Even so, he was restless. Anxious.
Two weeks on his own amongst strangers, running errands for Dumbledore, and he had been ready enough to leave his life behind. He had cut loose all of his ties-except for sending those last self-indulgent owls to Nymphadora-and steeled himself to face what he had to do.
But then today there had been Poppy Pomfrey’s firm but gentle fussing after the transformation, and Harry’s spontaneous smile when Remus turned up at his birthday tea, and Molly and Arthur’s way of making him feel truly welcome in their home. Questions from Hermione, and jokes from the twins-
The careful distance he had spent the last two weeks building, between himself and the people he knew he had to leave behind, had shattered in the space of a day.
And now, he had to take his leave of Nymphadora.
Don’t you dare set off without giving me a chance to say goodbye, her hastily scribbled letter that morning had warned.
That was precisely what he had planned to do, of course. He would have sent one last owl, wishing her well, and promising to write again when he could-which would have been at Christmas, when Dumbledore had requested that he slip away from the camp and come back to the Burrow to make a full report to the Order. An attempt, perhaps, to placate him with the prospect of a respite after a mere five months underground.
Remus pressed his lips together and went on pacing with slow, weary steps.
He had done so well, these two weeks away, remembering to think of Nymphadora as a friend. The cheery mate who had spent so many evenings brightening up the old Black house for Sirius-and for him. He would miss that dear friend, of course; her cheeky jokes, and her bright colours, and her bravery and quick thinking on missions. But it was so much safer to miss those things than to miss-
No.
And it was the day after the moon. Dangerous. Exhaustion led to mistakes, sometimes. He probably should have just sent an owl, after all.
But Nymphadora had asked him to wait for her.
And she did say she had something important she had to show him.
If a weak, selfish part of Remus was secretly glad that circumstances had manoeuvered him into seeing her once more before he left-
-that was something he absolutely must not think about.
A soft pop of Apparition announced Nymphadora’s arrival. Remus turned, quickly, and couldn’t stop himself from grinning-it had been more than two weeks since he’d seen her, after all. His best mate.
She smiled back, her eyes bright. “Wotcher. You are still here.”
But his grin faltered when he saw just how tired she looked. She still had the dark smudges under her eyes that had first appeared after Bellatrix had hexed her-after Sirius had-well. And her hair was still the fine, soft brown Remus had first seen when he kept his grief-stricken vigil at her bedside in St. Mungo’s. It was pretty in its own way. Delicate.
But he missed the pink.
And he hated to think of the moment when he’d seen the colour fade away-that night in his flat, when the two of them had worked out the truth about his history with Greyback.
His fault.
Just one of the many reasons she would be so much better off with him gone away for a while.
“Are you all right?” he asked, shoving his hands safely into his pockets and allowing himself to take a couple of steps toward her. “Are you-not Metamorphosing, yet?”
A faint flush stained her cheeks, which was all the answer he needed. Normally, she would have hidden any incipient blush before it had a chance to show.
“Not yet,” she muttered. But then she straightened her shoulders. “It’s a mix of things, I reckon. Grief-” he winced- “and non-stop dementor duty in Hogsmeade, and being busy all the time with Order work, and recovering from that hex of Auntie Bella’s.”
Her chin went up, and she took a step nearer.
Near enough that he could breathe the faintest scent of lavender, and see her pulse flutter in her throat.
Deep, deep in his pockets, his hands clenched into fists.
“Not to mention,” she said, low and intense, “the man I love being an absolute, utter prat.”
Nymphadora, he wanted to say. He wanted so badly to touch her warm hands, her soft hair, the curve of her shoulder-
He swallowed, hard. His hands stayed where they were.
She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “How are you feeling?” She tilted her head, studying him. “You look pretty good, considering. Did you have Wolfsbane? Where did you stay last night?”
“I’m fine.” He managed a smile. “I did have the potion. And I was at Hogwarts last night-Poppy wanted me there so she could hover in the morning.”
“Hogwarts.” Hurt shadowed her eyes, making him swallow again. “I’ve been in Hogsmeade all week. I could have stopped in to see you, this morning.”
He knew that.
He also knew what an enormous mistake it would have been to see her when he was utterly exhausted from the transformation, when he couldn’t trust himself to be strong enough to do what was right.
Especially considering what a struggle it was even now. He was still so weary, and his nerves were stretched taut just thinking about what he had to do-
-holding Nymphadora close against his heart would feel so very warm-
“Tonks.” He took a deep breath and forced his fists, still deep in his pockets, to unclench. “You-you said there was something you needed to show me, before I left?”
She huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Watch this.”
She took a couple of steps back and fixed him with a long, level look. Then she raised her wand.
“Expecto Patronum.”
He blinked at her, puzzled, as silver mist swirled and began to take shape. Why did she need to show him her Patronus? He’d seen it dozens of times-
And then he stared.
The shape was all wrong-it was too tall, the legs too long, the tail trailing too far behind-
“Oh, no,” he choked. “Merlin, no.”
Looking up at him, plumed tail waving gently, was a perfect twin to his own silver wolf.
~ * ~
Tonks watched Remus watching her wolf. He looked gutted.
When he finally met her gaze, his face was twisted with shame. “It changed,” he said, his voice hoarser than it had been. “That only happens if-some great emotional upheaval-”
She shoved her wand back in her pocket and crossed her arms again. Her eyes held his until he grimaced and looked away.
“It’s not worth it,” he whispered. “I’m not worth it.”
Damn him. But the trouble was, he really believed that.
“I didn’t choose to change my Patronus,” she snapped. He flinched, and she sighed, her face softening. “But I wanted to you to see what’s happened. Because you seem to think I’m suffering from some kind of temporary delusion. I think this proves that I really, truly love you.”
For just an instant, there was so much hunger in his eyes that it made her mouth go dry.
But then he blinked and rubbed a hand slowly across his face. “That’s not the only emotional upheaval you’ve had lately,” he said, slowly. Calmly. “I think it’s most likely the combination of-of everything-”
“Would you shut up!”
He did, mouth slighly agape.
A small, sane part of her brain was now pointing out that maybe shouting at Remus wasn’t quite the right way to go about wooing him. But he was so utterly infuriating.
She clenched her fists and took a step nearer.
He swallowed, hard, and his hands went right back into his pockets again.
“Of course I miss Sirius,” she said, wincing as Remus flinched again. “Of course it’s hard being on dementor patrols all the bloody time. Of course I’m worried about everyone in the Order, and you in particular with this new mission of yours.”
She reached out and curled her fingers around his forearm, above where his hand disappeared into his pocket.
He closed his eyes before she could look for that flash of hunger again, but she felt him shiver.
She pressed on. “But mostly all this is because I love you, and I know that you love me, and it’s killing me to see you denying both of us a chance to be happy.”
He shook his head, hopelessly, and slid away from her grip on his arm. “Being with me would never make you happy, Tonks, not in the long run.” He drew a long, shaky breath. “Look, it will be months before we see each other again. Time apart is exactly what we need. You’ll find someone else-someone who isn’t so old and poor and dangerous. You’ll be able to forget about all this, and we can go on being friends.” He tried to smile at her. “We’re very good as friends, don’t you think?”
“That,” she snapped, “is quite possibly the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard you say. I am not going to stop loving you.” She pushed her hands through her limp, drab hair and tugged at it in frustration. “I will wait for you, for as long as it takes, until you stop being such a prat and-and help me turn our friendship into something amazing.”
He was silent, then, for a very long time. His face was unreadable, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes at all.
She waited.
“I do have to be going,” he said at last. “Mad-Eye must be waiting for me at the wood by now.” He attempted another smile. “Let’s take our leave-as friends.”
Her throat closed up. This was it. Remus was really leaving.
“I want a hug, at least,” she said. There was nothing to lose at this point.
He went very still for a moment, but then he managed to raise an eyebrow. “I’m not so certain that’s something we’d do if we’re trying to be friends.”
Tonks rolled her eyes (it helped keep them from filling with tears, for one thing). “That is absolute bollocks. If my best mate is going away for months and months, I’m bloody well going to hug him goodbye.”
She gave him her very fiercest glare.
He stared at her.
She raised an eyebrow and tapped her foot, ostentatiously. “Hug, Lupin.”
After another silent moment, the corner of his mouth twitched. He huffed a rueful half-laugh and opened his arms.
She closed the distance between them in an instant and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.
He held himself absolutely rigid. His hands came up and settled gingerly on her back, barely touching. She didn’t think he was breathing at all.
But she could feel the tension vibrating through him, like a tightly coiled spring.
What would happen if he ever let go of that iron control?
She raised her head without even thinking, her lips starving for the taste of his.
“No,” he whispered. “Nymphadora-”
He broke away from her grasp and took two steps back, breathing very hard.
“I’ve got to go.” His voice was hoarse. “Mad-Eye-”
“Go, then,” she said, “and stay safe.” Her chin went up. “But I don’t care how long you’ll be gone. I’ll be waiting, Remus. I love you.”
Remus hitched his shabby rucksack over one shoulder, drank her in with one last long, desperate look, and spun on his heel, Disapparating with a tidy little pop.
Tonks spent a moment trying to breathe, and another moment digging her fingernails into her palms until there was no longer any danger of tears.
And then she squared her shoulders, set her jaw, and marched up to the door of the Burrow.
There was a birthday party, and she was invited.
~ * ~
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