Messages
Title: Messages
Author: shimotsuki
Rating & Warnings: PG, for mild profanity
Prompts: time away from work; “Well...all right. I’ll try and help. But it’ll have to wait...I’m afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”-J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Word Count: 3841 words
Summary: Tonks has a lot to worry about as Christmas approaches -- her decreasing usefulness as an undercover agent, her father's fate as a Muggle-born wizard on the run, and the fact that her parents and her husband still don't seem to understand each other. (Part of the Kaleidoscope series, but stands alone.)
Author’s Notes: Being pregnant isn’t exactly falling ill, but I hope I’m following the spirit of the PoA prompt, if not the letter...
Messages
“Dora?”
A finger traced its way gently along her cheek.
Tonks blinked sleepily and peered up from behind the arm she had flung across her face. Warm brown eyes smiled down into hers, with that particular tender light that never failed to start her stomach fluttering.
Remus was sitting on the edge of their bed, already dressed in the Muggle clothes he used for driving the taxi. He bent down and kissed her, lingeringly.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” he murmured, “but I should go now if I want to take advantage of the morning commuters.”
“Mmm.” She yawned and stretched, still not feeling quite coherent.
He brushed his fingers against her cheek again. “I may be a little later than usual tonight, because if I’m lucky there will be Christmas shoppers all day.” Then he looked directly into her eyes and waited to be certain she was looking back at him. “But I’ll be home by suppertime, at the latest.”
Remus was always like this now. He never left the house without coming to her and letting her know exactly where he was going and when he planned to be back. And he never settled for leaving a mere note, unless she was actually away from home herself when he had to go. He made a point of directly telling her-as gravely as though he were pledging an Unbreakable Vow-every single time.
Tonks wondered if her husband would ever stop doing penance for something that wasn’t even really a betrayal, not once she’d understood his reasons (irrational though his thinking might have been at the time).
“Okay.” Her voice came out as a sleepy whisper, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Good luck. I bet there’ll be loads of Muggles who don’t want to carry all their Christmas parcels home.”
Remus grinned at that. Then he kissed her one more time, laid a hand lightly on her stomach for a moment, and headed downstairs in his socks, carrying his well-shined shoes in one hand in case Mum was still asleep.
Tonks was sorely tempted to roll right over and go back to sleep herself. But she had an undercover mission that day, and the cheery little clock on her bedside table informed her that it was almost eight already, so with a tiny sigh she climbed out of her warm nest of covers and reached for her puffy purple dressing gown.
. * . * .
When Tonks made it to the kitchen, she found Mum already there, sipping a cup of tea and watching Remus tie his shoes.
“You’ll be out driving today, then?”
It was only Mum’s making-polite-conversation voice, but Tonks could see Remus hesitate, checking for signs of criticism underneath her neutral words.
“That’s right,” he said at last, carefully. “I don’t have any pressing Order business, and our stash of Muggle money is getting low, so I talked to Arthur, and he’ll let me have the car for the day.” He stood and reached for his gloves. “I’ll pick up some groceries on the way home.” Then he shot a glance at Tonks before turning back to Mum with a small smile. “And I thought I might stop by the Forbidden Forest and bring back a little fir tree.”
Mum’s eyebrows went up. “You can Apparate that car all the way to Hogsmeade?”
Remus nodded, and Tonks thought she even saw a gleam of pride surface for an instant. “This one doesn’t fly, but Arthur and I have charmed it to do anything the Knight Bus can do.”
“I see.” Mum took another sip of tea and looked away, gazing out the kitchen window. She said nothing about the tree.
If Tonks hadn’t known Remus so very well, the disappointed sag of his shoulders would have been too subtle to notice.
She caught his eye and sent him a wry grin, shrugging slightly in Mum’s direction. “A tree would be great. I’ll see what decorations I can find up in the attic when I get back from London today.”
The tree was important, actually, because Dad might make it home for Christmas. On the other hand, of course, he might not. They had no way to communicate with him-owls might be spotted heading for his hiding place, and McGonagall had realised soon after the Ministry fell that with Snape on the other side, Patronus messages were no longer secure. So Dad simply Apparated straight into the house every few weeks. He’d have a shower and a hot meal, tinker with the portable wireless transmitter they used for Potterwatch, beam delightedly at Tonks when the baby kicked, and hold Mum close until the tight little lines around her mouth relaxed and she began to smile again.
And if Dad did come home this week, there had to be a tree. He loved Christmas more than anything.
Tonks rather thought that was why Mum didn’t seem to want them to get one. Assuming from the start that Dad wouldn’t be home for Christmas left no room for disappointment if, in the end, he wasn’t.
. * . * .
Scowling at the mirror in deep concentration, Tonks made her cheekbones smaller, turned her eyes light hazel, and lengthened her hair into a thick, sand-coloured plait-all the while being very, very careful not to change the shape of anything below her neck.
She pulled on a loose set of plain black robes and turned sideways, studying her profile. She looked a little thick-waisted, maybe, but she really didn’t think the pregnancy was obvious yet, at least not under the deliberately shapeless robes.
So today she was still a viable undercover agent for the Order. She would see about tomorrow when tomorrow came.
Tonks picked up a heavy, ugly pocket watch from her dressing table and poked it with her wand. It kept terrible time, but it was one of the prototype Confundus Portkeys that the Weasley twins were developing for the Order-untraceable, because it automatically Confunded anyone who saw it appear or disappear.
She poked it again, activating the Portkey and arriving with a lurch in Aberforth’s goat shed behind the Hog’s Head. It was best not to Apparate while pregnant, since even a minor splinch could have devastating consequences. That meant that the only way for Tonks to arrive anonymously in London was by public Floo, and Hogsmeade was a safely crowded place to start out from.
A few minutes later, still brushing soot from her robes, Tonks slipped into a small, dingy pub that squatted sullenly at the end of a side street near the Ministry. Today, she ordered a cup of tea (sometimes it was coffee, or cocoa, or even a baguette with jam) and sat down with a sketchbook to doodle in (sometimes it was the Prophet, or a novel, or a chatty letter to a nonexistent friend). It was still a little early for the lunch rush, so she chose a table along the wall, not too far from where her quarry Travers liked to sit, and settled in to wait.
She didn’t have to wait long. Travers strode in, looking just as self-important as always, and commandeered a table. He kept glancing at his watch and glaring at the door. That was an encouraging sign, since spying on someone eating lunch alone is not a very effective means of gathering information.
Tonks sipped her tea and set a pencil down on the table, angling it carefully toward Travers. The Eavesdropping Pencil was another invention of the twins’-a variation on Extendable Ears that magically amplified a designated conversation for the wielder’s ears only.
Travers glanced idly around the room, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. He looked up quickly once and caught Tonks watching him, and his eyes narrowed slightly. She carefully exuded utter boredom, sliding her gaze absently away from his and back to her sketchbook.
The door opened again, and Travers turned that way, uttering a grunt of satisfaction when he saw the tall, slightly stooped man who appeared. It was Rabastan Lestrange: Travers’s frequent lunch companion, member of You-Know-Who’s inner circle-and, incidentally, Auntie Bellatrix’s brother in law, although Tonks was not particularly interested in forging family ties with him.
Lestrange took a large gulp of ale and wiped his mouth with his hand. “I’ve got some interesting news for you today.”
Tonks held her breath, watching the two men over the top of her sketchbook. It was shaping up to be a lucky day for the Order.
“Good.” Travers smirked. “But I’ve got news for you, too-our little friend is back.”
“Ah.” A crafty grin crawled across Lestrange’s face. “Where?”
Travers pointed casually with his chin.
Right at Tonks.
She swallowed hard and focussed her attention on her drawing, not even glancing up when she heard the creak of a chair and heavy footsteps heading her way.
“Hello again,” Lestrange hissed.
Tonks raised her head and tilted an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”
The man scowled. “My friend here tells me there’s almost always a bird in the pub, sitting alone, when he’s here for lunch. I’ve seen her myself from time to time.”
Tonks, channelling Remus, called forth a bland, polite smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been here before.”
Lestrange leaned closer. He reeked of the same pipe tobacco that Dung favoured. “A different face every time, but always about your height and build.” He leered. “And the last few times, he says, they’ve all been preggers.”
Tonks felt her insides freeze. She had gone on spying too long.
“You’re the little shape-shifting freak,” he declared, with great glee. “Bella’s sister’s brat.”
“Look,” said Tonks acerbically, “you’re making no sense at all.” Have to get out of here-have to get the baby away from here... She hid her shaking hands in her lap and glared at him. “You must have mistaken me for someone else.”
He laughed. It was not a friendly sound. “I could kill you now, I suppose; we’d only have to say we didn’t recognise you-how thoughtful of you to change your face for us. Who’d blame us for thinking you were an unregistered Mudblood, resisting arrest?”
Tonks began to edge her wand slowly out of her sleeve.
“But if I kill you, that will make Bella happy.” Lestrange cocked his head to one side. “If I let you go instead, I can tell her that her sister’s half-blood freak and that werewolf you’ve taken up with are spawning.” The crafty grin came back. “It’s more fun to make Bella go spare.”
Tonks leapt to her feet. Maybe if she played this right, she could keep her cover. She shoved the Eavesdropping Pencil into her pocket, dropped a few Sickles on the table for her cup of tea, tucked the sketchbook under her arm, and glared right into Lestrange’s face. “I do not have to sit here and listen to your mad threats and foul language. Good day to you, whoever you are.”
Lestrange’s face darkened. He reached for his wand.
Tonks grabbed the Portkey in her pocket, stabbed at it with her own wand, and collapsed, shivering violently, on the warm fragrant hay in Aberforth’s goat shed.
. * . * .
An hour later, the shivering had mostly stopped.
The contents of three trunkfuls of Christmas decorations were strewn around Mum and Dad’s living room in an explosion of tissue paper. Tonks stood over the kitchen table, where she had spread out a long string of white beads, trying to remember the very trickiest Colour-Change Charm that Flitwick had ever taught in her N.E.W.T.-level Charms class.
Anything to distract herself from the voices in her head.
You had to go and get pregnant during a war. What good are you to the Order now? Can’t Apparate, can’t Metamorphose, can’t even go to London without being recognised...
Tonks felt hot tears well up, and she blinked them away, scowling. She wanted this baby, more than anything. But even she had to admit that the timing was absolutely crap. And knowing that she was no longer of any use to the Order was-it was-
It made her feel like she wasn’t any use to anyone at all.
Being sacked from the Auror squad last summer had hurt. A lot. But within days of her sudden dismissal, the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry, and the Aurors were all sacked, or forced to spend their time tracking down Muggle-borns, or ...worse. So she probably would have had to quit her job-or flee-anyway.
And she hadn’t been useless, then-losing her job had only meant that she could start working for the Order full time.
Now, all she was good for were these blasted Christmas decorations.
Well, by Merlin, she was going to decorate.
And she was bloody well going to get over this fit of the blues before Remus came home. The last thing on earth Tonks wanted to do was to start him worrying that she was sorry they were having a baby.
The front door opened and closed. Tonks glanced at the window, surprised to see that it was already dark. She must have been fussing over that string of beads for longer than she had realised.
“Nymphadora!” Mum came through into the kitchen. “For heaven’s sake, it looks like there’s been a cauldron explosion in the living room-”
She broke off, unexpectedly, and Tonks looked up to see what was wrong.
Mum was staring, her face whiter than the lace curtains on the windows. “What’s happened? Was there news-”
“No news,” said Tonks at once. “I’m sure Dad’s fine.” She frowned. “Why?”
Mum clenched her teeth, and her eyebrows drew together menacingly. “It’s Remus, then. He’s run off on you and the baby again!”
“No, Mum.” Tonks, furious with herself for being so weak, felt more tears threatening. Won’t Mum ever learn to trust him? She tucked her wand into her pocket and put her hands on her hips. “You heard him this morning-he’s out driving the taxi today. To earn money. So we can all eat.”
Mum’s eyes were still suspicious. Tonks hesitated, for just an instant, and then she blinked hard, went to her mother, and touched her arm. “He promises me every day, Mum. Not only with words, but in a million different ways. He promises that he’s through being scared-that he’ll always be there for me-that he’ll be the best father he can for our son.”
“I don’t see it.” Mum shook her head stiffly. “I see a quiet man who keeps to himself.”
Tonks sighed. Of course Remus was cautious around Mum. He didn’t think she approved of him. “Can’t you at least see how hard he’s trying to be part of this family? He bought sprouts for supper last week, after you said you like them. And this morning, when he asked about bringing home a tree-that was for you as well as for me, you know.”
“If those are the messages he’s sending,” said Mum wearily, “then I’m not receiving them. Perhaps Remus isn’t much of a communicator.” She looked sharply at Tonks again. “But if it’s not Dad, and it’s not Remus, then whatever is wrong?”
The front door opened and closed again. Remus came into the kitchen, carrying bags from Tesco and Boots, because what he earned these days was Muggle money. This was illegal, of course, according to the Ministry. But right now, so was being a Muggle-born witch or wizard-not to mention being married to a werewolf. Somehow, breaking the old Non-Magical Employment laws didn’t feel particularly worrisome any more.
“Oh, Dora.” He deposited everything in a great heap on the counter and went straight to her. “What’s happened?”
“What?” Tonks scowled, because what she really wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and sob with frustration and worry. “What are both of you on about?”
“You’ve gone brown,” said Remus gently, reaching out and winding a lock of-oh, bugger-lank, mousy-brown hair around his finger.
“Oh.” Tonks flushed. She hadn’t lost control of her Metamorphosing like this in months. “I’m all right. It’s just-I’ve decided that the baby’s too far along for me to hide it any more. So no more eavesdropping on Death Eaters.” She managed a lopsided smile. “I guess I was just feeling a little disappointed.”
There was no point in saying more, in frightening anyone with how narrow her escape had been. Besides, maybe the Confundus Portkey would have made Rabastan Lestrange forget that he’d discovered the pregnancy before he could pass the information on to Bellatrix.
Maybe.
Grimacing from the effort, she turned her hair turquoise and spiky.
“The good news is, now I have loads of time to decorate for Christmas,” she announced brightly, drawing her wand again. “Wait ’til you see what I’m going to Charm these beads to do!”
. * . * .
The next day was Christmas Eve, and Tonks plunged furiously into decorating. It kept her from wondering what she was going to do with herself, and it kept her from worrying about Dad. She even tried to bake a Christmas cake from the meagre stores in their pantry-it came out a bit wrong, because they didn’t have enough eggs, but at least it smelled nice.
Mum still wouldn’t touch the decorations. But she looked on thoughtfully at Tonks’s whirlwind of activity while she sipped a cup of tea, and then suddenly she started to clean the already spotless house from top to bottom.
Remus spent most of the day closeted in the bedroom. Every time he came out, he had a certain sparkle in his eye that suggested he might be up to something, but he wouldn’t answer questions-not even the most devious ones Tonks could invent.
And then, at suppertime, just as Tonks was setting the table and Remus was putting the finishing touches on his favourite lentil stew, there was a soft pop of Apparition in the living room, and a cheery voice called out, “Merry Christmas!”
Dad was home.
Mum ran pell-mell down from upstairs and into his arms.
The next hour was something of a blur. Dad had a hot shower, changed into clean clothes, and ate bowl after bowl of the warm filling stew. He didn’t have much news to report, since there were fewer and fewer Muggle-borns hiding in the woods these days-many of them had either already escaped from Britain, or had been captured. “I haven’t found anyone at all this month who wants a magical taxi to Calais,” Dad told Remus regretfully.
After supper, they adjourned to the living room with mugs of hot cocoa. Dad settled happily onto the sofa. Mum curled up against him, her expression softer than it had been in some time. Tonks let Remus steer her toward the armchair closest to the fire, but instead of taking the opposite armchair, he touched her hand briefly and settled on the ottoman at her feet, leaning lightly against her knee.
The fire snapped and shimmered in the grate. The fairy lights twinkled on the tree. The garland of beads that Tonks had spent so long Charming was working perfectly, with a rainbow of colours chasing each other slowly from bead to bead along its length. The wireless sang softly in the background-not Celestina Warbeck, thank goodness, but a selection of old carols. And the family was all together.
There would be time enough later to think about the war, and to find herself a place in the fight again.
It’s definitely Christmas, Tonks thought with a surge of contentment, sipping at her cocoa. Even without any presents.
But then she saw Remus shift to one side and reach into his pocket, pulling out a handful of small packages wrapped in plain white paper. He handed one to her, and then one each to Mum and Dad.
“I thought we weren’t buying presents this year?” Tonks spoke without thinking and immediately winced. The last thing she wanted to do was question her husband’s judgement in front of her parents.
But Remus only smiled, that small, swift smile he used when he wasn’t entirely sure of himself. “Ah, but these are not really Christmas presents.” His gaze flicked from Tonks to Dad and Mum in turn. “It’s something the Order can use. I have some for the Weasleys, too, and Minerva.”
Tonks looked at the small round object with interest. This must be what Remus had been working on all day.
Mum and Dad were already unwrapping their packages. Dad tore his paper off at once, just as Tonks always did. Mum loosened the Spellotape and slid the paper off, folding it neatly-just, Tonks suddenly recognised, as Remus always did.
The objects turned out to be a pair of mirrors-cheap little Muggle pocket mirrors in powder-blue plastic frames. Mum and Dad looked at each other, and then at Remus, puzzled. Tonks quickly unwrapped her own and found the same little mirror in a bubble-gum pink frame. She smiled at the colour, but looked up at Remus expectantly.
“They only work in pairs,” he explained. “I couldn’t get them all to work together-this is an old Charm of James Potter’s devising, and I had a dreadful time remembering how to cast it at all. But if you tap the mirror with your wand, you can talk to whomever has the other one.” He pulled a second pink one out of his pocket and held it up. “I have the mate to Dora’s.”
Tonks watched as Mum slowly drew her wand and tapped it lightly against the mirror. Dad’s face, breaking into a grin, appeared in the centre of the frame.
Mum stared at the mirror, glanced up at Dad twinkling down at her, and looked back at the mirror again.
Then, without a word, she surged to her feet and ran from the room, the mirror still clutched in her hand. Her footsteps clattered up the stairs. A door slammed. The festive candles on the coffee table flickered in her wake.
Tonks felt Remus stiffen where he leaned against her knee. Oh, Mum, she groaned, silently. Couldn’t you have said something to him?
But then Dad cleared his throat. “Don’t mind Dromeda,” he said, a little gruffly. “She just doesn’t like anyone to see her being emotional.”
Remus nodded. The swift smile made another appearance.
“I’ll go up and see if she’s all right.” Dad pushed himself up out of the sofa, but he paused before walking away, looking down at Remus perched on the ottoman. “These mirrors... This will help. A lot. Thank you-”
Dad reached out and rested his hand on Remus’s shoulder for an instant.
“-son.”
Then he hurried off after Mum.
Remus turned and stared up at Tonks. He looked utterly gobsmacked.
Tonks burst into an enormous grin.
Message received.
. * fin * .
Author: shimotsuki
Rating & Warnings: PG, for mild profanity
Prompts: time away from work; “Well...all right. I’ll try and help. But it’ll have to wait...I’m afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”-J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Word Count: 3841 words
Summary: Tonks has a lot to worry about as Christmas approaches -- her decreasing usefulness as an undercover agent, her father's fate as a Muggle-born wizard on the run, and the fact that her parents and her husband still don't seem to understand each other. (Part of the Kaleidoscope series, but stands alone.)
Author’s Notes: Being pregnant isn’t exactly falling ill, but I hope I’m following the spirit of the PoA prompt, if not the letter...
Messages
“Dora?”
A finger traced its way gently along her cheek.
Tonks blinked sleepily and peered up from behind the arm she had flung across her face. Warm brown eyes smiled down into hers, with that particular tender light that never failed to start her stomach fluttering.
Remus was sitting on the edge of their bed, already dressed in the Muggle clothes he used for driving the taxi. He bent down and kissed her, lingeringly.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” he murmured, “but I should go now if I want to take advantage of the morning commuters.”
“Mmm.” She yawned and stretched, still not feeling quite coherent.
He brushed his fingers against her cheek again. “I may be a little later than usual tonight, because if I’m lucky there will be Christmas shoppers all day.” Then he looked directly into her eyes and waited to be certain she was looking back at him. “But I’ll be home by suppertime, at the latest.”
Remus was always like this now. He never left the house without coming to her and letting her know exactly where he was going and when he planned to be back. And he never settled for leaving a mere note, unless she was actually away from home herself when he had to go. He made a point of directly telling her-as gravely as though he were pledging an Unbreakable Vow-every single time.
Tonks wondered if her husband would ever stop doing penance for something that wasn’t even really a betrayal, not once she’d understood his reasons (irrational though his thinking might have been at the time).
“Okay.” Her voice came out as a sleepy whisper, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Good luck. I bet there’ll be loads of Muggles who don’t want to carry all their Christmas parcels home.”
Remus grinned at that. Then he kissed her one more time, laid a hand lightly on her stomach for a moment, and headed downstairs in his socks, carrying his well-shined shoes in one hand in case Mum was still asleep.
Tonks was sorely tempted to roll right over and go back to sleep herself. But she had an undercover mission that day, and the cheery little clock on her bedside table informed her that it was almost eight already, so with a tiny sigh she climbed out of her warm nest of covers and reached for her puffy purple dressing gown.
. * . * .
When Tonks made it to the kitchen, she found Mum already there, sipping a cup of tea and watching Remus tie his shoes.
“You’ll be out driving today, then?”
It was only Mum’s making-polite-conversation voice, but Tonks could see Remus hesitate, checking for signs of criticism underneath her neutral words.
“That’s right,” he said at last, carefully. “I don’t have any pressing Order business, and our stash of Muggle money is getting low, so I talked to Arthur, and he’ll let me have the car for the day.” He stood and reached for his gloves. “I’ll pick up some groceries on the way home.” Then he shot a glance at Tonks before turning back to Mum with a small smile. “And I thought I might stop by the Forbidden Forest and bring back a little fir tree.”
Mum’s eyebrows went up. “You can Apparate that car all the way to Hogsmeade?”
Remus nodded, and Tonks thought she even saw a gleam of pride surface for an instant. “This one doesn’t fly, but Arthur and I have charmed it to do anything the Knight Bus can do.”
“I see.” Mum took another sip of tea and looked away, gazing out the kitchen window. She said nothing about the tree.
If Tonks hadn’t known Remus so very well, the disappointed sag of his shoulders would have been too subtle to notice.
She caught his eye and sent him a wry grin, shrugging slightly in Mum’s direction. “A tree would be great. I’ll see what decorations I can find up in the attic when I get back from London today.”
The tree was important, actually, because Dad might make it home for Christmas. On the other hand, of course, he might not. They had no way to communicate with him-owls might be spotted heading for his hiding place, and McGonagall had realised soon after the Ministry fell that with Snape on the other side, Patronus messages were no longer secure. So Dad simply Apparated straight into the house every few weeks. He’d have a shower and a hot meal, tinker with the portable wireless transmitter they used for Potterwatch, beam delightedly at Tonks when the baby kicked, and hold Mum close until the tight little lines around her mouth relaxed and she began to smile again.
And if Dad did come home this week, there had to be a tree. He loved Christmas more than anything.
Tonks rather thought that was why Mum didn’t seem to want them to get one. Assuming from the start that Dad wouldn’t be home for Christmas left no room for disappointment if, in the end, he wasn’t.
. * . * .
Scowling at the mirror in deep concentration, Tonks made her cheekbones smaller, turned her eyes light hazel, and lengthened her hair into a thick, sand-coloured plait-all the while being very, very careful not to change the shape of anything below her neck.
She pulled on a loose set of plain black robes and turned sideways, studying her profile. She looked a little thick-waisted, maybe, but she really didn’t think the pregnancy was obvious yet, at least not under the deliberately shapeless robes.
So today she was still a viable undercover agent for the Order. She would see about tomorrow when tomorrow came.
Tonks picked up a heavy, ugly pocket watch from her dressing table and poked it with her wand. It kept terrible time, but it was one of the prototype Confundus Portkeys that the Weasley twins were developing for the Order-untraceable, because it automatically Confunded anyone who saw it appear or disappear.
She poked it again, activating the Portkey and arriving with a lurch in Aberforth’s goat shed behind the Hog’s Head. It was best not to Apparate while pregnant, since even a minor splinch could have devastating consequences. That meant that the only way for Tonks to arrive anonymously in London was by public Floo, and Hogsmeade was a safely crowded place to start out from.
A few minutes later, still brushing soot from her robes, Tonks slipped into a small, dingy pub that squatted sullenly at the end of a side street near the Ministry. Today, she ordered a cup of tea (sometimes it was coffee, or cocoa, or even a baguette with jam) and sat down with a sketchbook to doodle in (sometimes it was the Prophet, or a novel, or a chatty letter to a nonexistent friend). It was still a little early for the lunch rush, so she chose a table along the wall, not too far from where her quarry Travers liked to sit, and settled in to wait.
She didn’t have to wait long. Travers strode in, looking just as self-important as always, and commandeered a table. He kept glancing at his watch and glaring at the door. That was an encouraging sign, since spying on someone eating lunch alone is not a very effective means of gathering information.
Tonks sipped her tea and set a pencil down on the table, angling it carefully toward Travers. The Eavesdropping Pencil was another invention of the twins’-a variation on Extendable Ears that magically amplified a designated conversation for the wielder’s ears only.
Travers glanced idly around the room, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. He looked up quickly once and caught Tonks watching him, and his eyes narrowed slightly. She carefully exuded utter boredom, sliding her gaze absently away from his and back to her sketchbook.
The door opened again, and Travers turned that way, uttering a grunt of satisfaction when he saw the tall, slightly stooped man who appeared. It was Rabastan Lestrange: Travers’s frequent lunch companion, member of You-Know-Who’s inner circle-and, incidentally, Auntie Bellatrix’s brother in law, although Tonks was not particularly interested in forging family ties with him.
Lestrange took a large gulp of ale and wiped his mouth with his hand. “I’ve got some interesting news for you today.”
Tonks held her breath, watching the two men over the top of her sketchbook. It was shaping up to be a lucky day for the Order.
“Good.” Travers smirked. “But I’ve got news for you, too-our little friend is back.”
“Ah.” A crafty grin crawled across Lestrange’s face. “Where?”
Travers pointed casually with his chin.
Right at Tonks.
She swallowed hard and focussed her attention on her drawing, not even glancing up when she heard the creak of a chair and heavy footsteps heading her way.
“Hello again,” Lestrange hissed.
Tonks raised her head and tilted an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”
The man scowled. “My friend here tells me there’s almost always a bird in the pub, sitting alone, when he’s here for lunch. I’ve seen her myself from time to time.”
Tonks, channelling Remus, called forth a bland, polite smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been here before.”
Lestrange leaned closer. He reeked of the same pipe tobacco that Dung favoured. “A different face every time, but always about your height and build.” He leered. “And the last few times, he says, they’ve all been preggers.”
Tonks felt her insides freeze. She had gone on spying too long.
“You’re the little shape-shifting freak,” he declared, with great glee. “Bella’s sister’s brat.”
“Look,” said Tonks acerbically, “you’re making no sense at all.” Have to get out of here-have to get the baby away from here... She hid her shaking hands in her lap and glared at him. “You must have mistaken me for someone else.”
He laughed. It was not a friendly sound. “I could kill you now, I suppose; we’d only have to say we didn’t recognise you-how thoughtful of you to change your face for us. Who’d blame us for thinking you were an unregistered Mudblood, resisting arrest?”
Tonks began to edge her wand slowly out of her sleeve.
“But if I kill you, that will make Bella happy.” Lestrange cocked his head to one side. “If I let you go instead, I can tell her that her sister’s half-blood freak and that werewolf you’ve taken up with are spawning.” The crafty grin came back. “It’s more fun to make Bella go spare.”
Tonks leapt to her feet. Maybe if she played this right, she could keep her cover. She shoved the Eavesdropping Pencil into her pocket, dropped a few Sickles on the table for her cup of tea, tucked the sketchbook under her arm, and glared right into Lestrange’s face. “I do not have to sit here and listen to your mad threats and foul language. Good day to you, whoever you are.”
Lestrange’s face darkened. He reached for his wand.
Tonks grabbed the Portkey in her pocket, stabbed at it with her own wand, and collapsed, shivering violently, on the warm fragrant hay in Aberforth’s goat shed.
. * . * .
An hour later, the shivering had mostly stopped.
The contents of three trunkfuls of Christmas decorations were strewn around Mum and Dad’s living room in an explosion of tissue paper. Tonks stood over the kitchen table, where she had spread out a long string of white beads, trying to remember the very trickiest Colour-Change Charm that Flitwick had ever taught in her N.E.W.T.-level Charms class.
Anything to distract herself from the voices in her head.
You had to go and get pregnant during a war. What good are you to the Order now? Can’t Apparate, can’t Metamorphose, can’t even go to London without being recognised...
Tonks felt hot tears well up, and she blinked them away, scowling. She wanted this baby, more than anything. But even she had to admit that the timing was absolutely crap. And knowing that she was no longer of any use to the Order was-it was-
It made her feel like she wasn’t any use to anyone at all.
Being sacked from the Auror squad last summer had hurt. A lot. But within days of her sudden dismissal, the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry, and the Aurors were all sacked, or forced to spend their time tracking down Muggle-borns, or ...worse. So she probably would have had to quit her job-or flee-anyway.
And she hadn’t been useless, then-losing her job had only meant that she could start working for the Order full time.
Now, all she was good for were these blasted Christmas decorations.
Well, by Merlin, she was going to decorate.
And she was bloody well going to get over this fit of the blues before Remus came home. The last thing on earth Tonks wanted to do was to start him worrying that she was sorry they were having a baby.
The front door opened and closed. Tonks glanced at the window, surprised to see that it was already dark. She must have been fussing over that string of beads for longer than she had realised.
“Nymphadora!” Mum came through into the kitchen. “For heaven’s sake, it looks like there’s been a cauldron explosion in the living room-”
She broke off, unexpectedly, and Tonks looked up to see what was wrong.
Mum was staring, her face whiter than the lace curtains on the windows. “What’s happened? Was there news-”
“No news,” said Tonks at once. “I’m sure Dad’s fine.” She frowned. “Why?”
Mum clenched her teeth, and her eyebrows drew together menacingly. “It’s Remus, then. He’s run off on you and the baby again!”
“No, Mum.” Tonks, furious with herself for being so weak, felt more tears threatening. Won’t Mum ever learn to trust him? She tucked her wand into her pocket and put her hands on her hips. “You heard him this morning-he’s out driving the taxi today. To earn money. So we can all eat.”
Mum’s eyes were still suspicious. Tonks hesitated, for just an instant, and then she blinked hard, went to her mother, and touched her arm. “He promises me every day, Mum. Not only with words, but in a million different ways. He promises that he’s through being scared-that he’ll always be there for me-that he’ll be the best father he can for our son.”
“I don’t see it.” Mum shook her head stiffly. “I see a quiet man who keeps to himself.”
Tonks sighed. Of course Remus was cautious around Mum. He didn’t think she approved of him. “Can’t you at least see how hard he’s trying to be part of this family? He bought sprouts for supper last week, after you said you like them. And this morning, when he asked about bringing home a tree-that was for you as well as for me, you know.”
“If those are the messages he’s sending,” said Mum wearily, “then I’m not receiving them. Perhaps Remus isn’t much of a communicator.” She looked sharply at Tonks again. “But if it’s not Dad, and it’s not Remus, then whatever is wrong?”
The front door opened and closed again. Remus came into the kitchen, carrying bags from Tesco and Boots, because what he earned these days was Muggle money. This was illegal, of course, according to the Ministry. But right now, so was being a Muggle-born witch or wizard-not to mention being married to a werewolf. Somehow, breaking the old Non-Magical Employment laws didn’t feel particularly worrisome any more.
“Oh, Dora.” He deposited everything in a great heap on the counter and went straight to her. “What’s happened?”
“What?” Tonks scowled, because what she really wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and sob with frustration and worry. “What are both of you on about?”
“You’ve gone brown,” said Remus gently, reaching out and winding a lock of-oh, bugger-lank, mousy-brown hair around his finger.
“Oh.” Tonks flushed. She hadn’t lost control of her Metamorphosing like this in months. “I’m all right. It’s just-I’ve decided that the baby’s too far along for me to hide it any more. So no more eavesdropping on Death Eaters.” She managed a lopsided smile. “I guess I was just feeling a little disappointed.”
There was no point in saying more, in frightening anyone with how narrow her escape had been. Besides, maybe the Confundus Portkey would have made Rabastan Lestrange forget that he’d discovered the pregnancy before he could pass the information on to Bellatrix.
Maybe.
Grimacing from the effort, she turned her hair turquoise and spiky.
“The good news is, now I have loads of time to decorate for Christmas,” she announced brightly, drawing her wand again. “Wait ’til you see what I’m going to Charm these beads to do!”
. * . * .
The next day was Christmas Eve, and Tonks plunged furiously into decorating. It kept her from wondering what she was going to do with herself, and it kept her from worrying about Dad. She even tried to bake a Christmas cake from the meagre stores in their pantry-it came out a bit wrong, because they didn’t have enough eggs, but at least it smelled nice.
Mum still wouldn’t touch the decorations. But she looked on thoughtfully at Tonks’s whirlwind of activity while she sipped a cup of tea, and then suddenly she started to clean the already spotless house from top to bottom.
Remus spent most of the day closeted in the bedroom. Every time he came out, he had a certain sparkle in his eye that suggested he might be up to something, but he wouldn’t answer questions-not even the most devious ones Tonks could invent.
And then, at suppertime, just as Tonks was setting the table and Remus was putting the finishing touches on his favourite lentil stew, there was a soft pop of Apparition in the living room, and a cheery voice called out, “Merry Christmas!”
Dad was home.
Mum ran pell-mell down from upstairs and into his arms.
The next hour was something of a blur. Dad had a hot shower, changed into clean clothes, and ate bowl after bowl of the warm filling stew. He didn’t have much news to report, since there were fewer and fewer Muggle-borns hiding in the woods these days-many of them had either already escaped from Britain, or had been captured. “I haven’t found anyone at all this month who wants a magical taxi to Calais,” Dad told Remus regretfully.
After supper, they adjourned to the living room with mugs of hot cocoa. Dad settled happily onto the sofa. Mum curled up against him, her expression softer than it had been in some time. Tonks let Remus steer her toward the armchair closest to the fire, but instead of taking the opposite armchair, he touched her hand briefly and settled on the ottoman at her feet, leaning lightly against her knee.
The fire snapped and shimmered in the grate. The fairy lights twinkled on the tree. The garland of beads that Tonks had spent so long Charming was working perfectly, with a rainbow of colours chasing each other slowly from bead to bead along its length. The wireless sang softly in the background-not Celestina Warbeck, thank goodness, but a selection of old carols. And the family was all together.
There would be time enough later to think about the war, and to find herself a place in the fight again.
It’s definitely Christmas, Tonks thought with a surge of contentment, sipping at her cocoa. Even without any presents.
But then she saw Remus shift to one side and reach into his pocket, pulling out a handful of small packages wrapped in plain white paper. He handed one to her, and then one each to Mum and Dad.
“I thought we weren’t buying presents this year?” Tonks spoke without thinking and immediately winced. The last thing she wanted to do was question her husband’s judgement in front of her parents.
But Remus only smiled, that small, swift smile he used when he wasn’t entirely sure of himself. “Ah, but these are not really Christmas presents.” His gaze flicked from Tonks to Dad and Mum in turn. “It’s something the Order can use. I have some for the Weasleys, too, and Minerva.”
Tonks looked at the small round object with interest. This must be what Remus had been working on all day.
Mum and Dad were already unwrapping their packages. Dad tore his paper off at once, just as Tonks always did. Mum loosened the Spellotape and slid the paper off, folding it neatly-just, Tonks suddenly recognised, as Remus always did.
The objects turned out to be a pair of mirrors-cheap little Muggle pocket mirrors in powder-blue plastic frames. Mum and Dad looked at each other, and then at Remus, puzzled. Tonks quickly unwrapped her own and found the same little mirror in a bubble-gum pink frame. She smiled at the colour, but looked up at Remus expectantly.
“They only work in pairs,” he explained. “I couldn’t get them all to work together-this is an old Charm of James Potter’s devising, and I had a dreadful time remembering how to cast it at all. But if you tap the mirror with your wand, you can talk to whomever has the other one.” He pulled a second pink one out of his pocket and held it up. “I have the mate to Dora’s.”
Tonks watched as Mum slowly drew her wand and tapped it lightly against the mirror. Dad’s face, breaking into a grin, appeared in the centre of the frame.
Mum stared at the mirror, glanced up at Dad twinkling down at her, and looked back at the mirror again.
Then, without a word, she surged to her feet and ran from the room, the mirror still clutched in her hand. Her footsteps clattered up the stairs. A door slammed. The festive candles on the coffee table flickered in her wake.
Tonks felt Remus stiffen where he leaned against her knee. Oh, Mum, she groaned, silently. Couldn’t you have said something to him?
But then Dad cleared his throat. “Don’t mind Dromeda,” he said, a little gruffly. “She just doesn’t like anyone to see her being emotional.”
Remus nodded. The swift smile made another appearance.
“I’ll go up and see if she’s all right.” Dad pushed himself up out of the sofa, but he paused before walking away, looking down at Remus perched on the ottoman. “These mirrors... This will help. A lot. Thank you-”
Dad reached out and rested his hand on Remus’s shoulder for an instant.
“-son.”
Then he hurried off after Mum.
Remus turned and stared up at Tonks. He looked utterly gobsmacked.
Tonks burst into an enormous grin.
Message received.
. * fin * .