Fic: Keep Each Other Safe
Title: Keep Each Other Safe
Author: spira (the_conspiracie)
Rating & Warnings: K+ for mild swearing
Prompts: “‘Support Harry Potter’ parties are unwise in the present climate.” “Indeed they are, Romulus, so we suggest that you continue to show your devotion to the man with the lightning scar by listening to Potterwatch!” except mostly I just used the Potterwatch part.
Format & Word Count: 3455, full fic
Summary: Remus can’t share Tonks’s excitement about Potterwatch, nor about a wide variety of other things.
Author’s Notes: DH-era. This is my second R/T fic ever, first here at Meta. I’m glad to be here (but slightly terrified)! I apologize if the timeline here is somewhat non-canon, because I didn’t feel like researching.
“I think this Potterwatch thing sounds great,” says Tonks, who is leaning forward eagerly in her chair at the Burrow and looks dangerously close to spilling her hot chocolate. Her hair is a fluorescent shade of blue today, which she is convinced makes her look more authoritative but actually only clashes rather shockingly with her kelly green vest.
“As long as we’re careful,” says Remus, who looks neither authoritative nor shocking, from next to her.
“Naturally,” says Lee Jordan, whom they have all invited here at Fred and George’s request, because the twins said he had a plan and because what they all need right now is a good plan. “We’ll prescreen everything we say with you all, and it’s not like we’ll be spreading secrets anyways. Just common sense stuff. You know, protective charms over houses, don’t Apparate alone at night, don’t have Support Potter parties - ”
“Basically, an on-the-air Moody,” Fred says from across the round table. “All of the warnings at a fraction of the price.”
“It’ll be happy, too, right?” says Tonks, who chooses to ignore the Moody comment because it really shouldn’t make her angry. “We need to keep people optimistic.”
“Course,” says Lee. “Keep people informed and hopeful. Sounds good.”
“And we’ll somehow manage not to spread people’s names around?” says Remus, who is still skeptical.
“Code names!” Fred says eagerly.
Remus didn’t seem convinced. “Our voices, though? Are we going to Charm them?”
“I see no need,” says Kingsley, who sits next to him and until this point has been listening interestedly but silently. “If we are going to broadcast effectively and keep people hopeful, we need to accept the risks. And what if Harry manages to hear us?” he adds, when Remus starts to open his mouth in protest. “We want him to know that we’re supporting him, that we’re helping him even if not directly. This is for Harry, is it not?”
“Code names are enough,” agrees Tonks. Remus turns to her, silently beseeching her, but she simply smiles and looks toward Fred and Lee.
“Rapier,” Fred says instantly, grinning.
Lee laughs and punches his arm. “You should be Rodent,” he says. “Fits better.”
Fred frowns. “I like Rapier,” he insists. “What about you, then?”
“River,” Lee says. “You know, River Lee, River Jordan.” He looks immensely pleased with himself to have made this connection.
Kingsley nods his approval. “Royal,” he says, and Lee nods enthusiastically. Everyone turns to look at Remus.
“I don’t now if code names are enough,” he says.
Tonks rolls her eyes. “It’s four against one, Remus, are you in this or not?” she says, but her tone is playful beneath the demanding words.
“I just think we should do more - ” Remus says, but Tonks interrupts him.
“Pick a name,” she orders, her eyes locked into his.
He sighs, knowing full well that he has lost the battle. “Romulus, then,” he says. The four other people at the table show no comprehension.
This time it is Remus who rolls his eyes. “Muggle legend,” he explains. “Romulus was the founder of Rome, and the twin of Remus.”
“Okay,” says Lee, and turns to Tonks. Remus half expects her to say “Rainbow”.
“Raven,” she says.
Remus and Kingsley know that she has just named her original Patronus, but Lee doesn’t. He doesn’t really seem to care, though, for he nods and says, “All right, then.”
Suddenly Fred lights up. “Hey, Lee, remember those coins Hermione bewitched for the DA two years back? I bet we could do the same thing for us!”
“Protean Charms?” says Lee. “Brilliant - I can’t cast a good enough one, though.”
Tonks knows full well that she is perfectly capable of casting a good enough Protean. She keeps her gaze fixed on Remus, though. Lee and George have done the same, she can tell, because after a few seconds of silence, he sighs again and says, “All right.”
Tonks grins. “Sickles,” she says, and passes one over. The others do the same, and Remus pull out his wand and begins muttering things at the five silver coins in front of him.
“I have all of the equipment,” Lee says. “We can start whenever we want.”
“Tomorrow,” Tonks and Fred say together, and they all laugh.
----
“That was good,” Tonks says as she and Remus leave the Burrow after their first broadcast and walk home, because home is only a few blocks away and because the air is brisk and it’s nice to be outside.
“I suppose so,” says Remus, whose hands are buried deep into the pockets of his cloak.
“No, really,” says Tonks. “This is how we’re going to denounce all of those stupid Ministry rumors, and how we’re going to get the good people united, and how we’re going to win. Lee Jordan is bloody brilliant.”
“But what about the bad people?” Remus insists.
“What about them?” The wind blows Tonks’s purple scarf out of its loose knot, and she fumbles to fix it with her gloved hands.
Remus looks up at the grey sky, around at the dreary collection of houses that it their neighborhood, and back at Tonks, whose pink hair sets her obviously apart from their lackluster surroundings. “What if they use this against us?”
“You keep going on about that, but it won’t happen,” says Tonks, still fiddling with the scarf. “The Death Eaters are focused on big things. On the Ministry. On Hogwarts. On the WWN and the Prophet. They’re not even going to notice five people making a little underground broadcast. And even if they do, that’s a risk we’ve got to take.”
Remus turns to face her and stops so suddenly that she runs into him. He stares down at her. “So it’s better sorry than safe? Why? Why do we have to take that risk?”
Tonks looks up at him. “Because it’s better than doing nothing.”
----
“And that, friends, brings us to the end of another Potterwatch,” Lee announces simultaneously to no one in particular and to the entire Wizarding world after Tonks finishes refuting the apparently common misconception that Death Eaters use dementors in place of owls. They are in the attic of Shell Cottage for this particular broadcast, their fourth ever, and though they have no idea how many people are listening they would like to believe that hundreds, maybe even a thousand are tuning in.
“The next password is Fabian. Check back often - we’ll broadcast again whenever we can. Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night.” With that, he flicks his wand at the little box behind him, which chirps happily and signals that they are no longer being recorded.
“Nice,” Fred says as Lee turns back to survey his broadcast crew. Kingsley sits in a wood chair, his posture straight and a satisfied smile on his face. Remus is sprawled on an aging loveseat that was white in its former life, and Tonks is on the floor by his feet. She flashes Lee a thumbs up.
“Subtle use of advertising, Weasley,” Kingsley says, in a voice that is sarcastic but approving. Fred grins. They had all noticed his unscripted mention of the fact that Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes was still open and running strong in Diagon Alley. Tonks thinks that this is a good way to make people happy. Remus thinks that this is pure idiocy.
“What are we going to do for Christmas?” Tonks asks.
“What do you mean?” says Lee?
“WWN isn’t going to be broadcasting anything special, I heard the announcement the other day,” she explains. “And, you know, it’s Christmas. People expect Christmasy stuff on the wireless.”
“Are you suggesting we bring in Celestina Warbeck?” Remus asks. “I believe that would scare away a number of our listeners.”
“All of them but Mum,” Fred adds, and they laugh.
“It’s only the twenty-eighth. We have four weeks to think about it,” Kingsley says, restoring he calm with his deep voice.
Tonks nods. “We don’t need to do a lot. We just have to give people Christmas.”
“That’s a rather tall order,” Remus says quietly, and he’s rather sure no one but Tonks hears him.
“Ve have dinner!” Fleur calls from downstairs seconds later. Lee and Fred hurry down, followed by Kingsley. Tonks stays, and turns to Remus.
“Still not onboard, eh?”
Remus smiles sadly. “’Giving people Christmas’ sounds much harder than proving the difference between dementors and owls.” He expects her to laugh, or at least smile, but instead she hoists herself up onto the small couch and locks her grey eyes into his.
“Remus, have you seen Hogsmeade lately?” she says.
He considers this. “I’ve seen pictures in the Prophet.”
“I hate it. It makes me sick,” she says, with her typical fierce passion. “It’s almost bloody December now, and there should be lights and colors and festivity, but there’s not, because of him.”
“And we can fix some of that,” he finishes for her.
She smiles and nods.
“And we’re the only people who can fix that,” he says.
She grins.
“Okay,” he says, and she throws her arms around him.
----
Two days later, Remus is sitting at his pitiful excuse of a dining table, reading the Quibbler, which is a rather pitiful excuse of a newspaper, and eating toast, a pitiful excuse of a breakfast, when his pink-haired wife enters their kitchen.
“Remus?” she says casually, picking at the sleeve of her cerulean jumper.
“Mmm?” He looks up, his mind still focused on the Quibbler’s entirely inaccurate advice concerning doxies.
“I’m pregnant.”
----
Their Sickles change on the fifth or so, but Remus wants nothing to do with Potterwatch. Before Tonks wakes up, he finds her coin, changes the broadcast announcement, and pretends that the whole thing never existed.
“Thought we’d have another broadcast soon,” she says while they eat breakfast. “Guess Lee’s busy or something.”
Remus notices the disappointment in her voice but tries to ignore it. “Mmm,” he mutters in assent, and looks away.
Lee tells them all to keep each other safe at the end of every broadcast, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Keeping her safe.
----
When Tonks wakes up, the first thing she does is check the silver Sickle that she places in her left shoe every evening. The coin is in the shoe to remind her to check it, but really it forces her to leave her shoes in a sensible location, because she would remember to check the coin regardless of where she put it. This is useful, because she is always misplacing her shoes.
There is nothing new on the Sickle this Saturday - only today’s date, 11 December 1997, is etched in small numbers around the edge of the coin where the serial number usually is found on a regular coin. Lee hasn’t announced the next broadcast date. She shrugs, throws on a T-shirt (the one she happens to grab reads “How to Dissect a Chocolate Frog” on the front and “1. Screw this, eat the frog” on the back) and a cloak and pockets the coin.
Remus isn’t home, but this doesn’t surprise her. Most likely, he is off at the Burrow or purchasing food or walking around somewhere, and he’ll be back within a few hours.
She devours an untoasted cheese sandwich because she is rather afraid of attempting to toast it, scrawls a note to Remus and leaves it on the door, and Apparates to the Burrow, because she has nothing better to do. It is only after she has done so that she remembers that, being pregnant, she shouldn’t be Apparating, and she curses her own stupidity.
Molly greets her happily and leads her inside, where Arthur Weasley, who is reading an odd-looking book that she assumes is some sort of Muggle publication, and the twins, who are fervently discussing something that she assumes pertains to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.
Arthur notices her first. “Oh, hello, Tonks,” he greets her. “I was just reading this Ford F-350 manual. It’s fascinating.”
Tonks stares at him blankly.
“Muggle car,” he explains.
“Ah,” she says, sitting in one of Molly’s more comfortable armchairs. “Sounds exciting,” she adds, but Arthur is already immersed in the manual again.
“Broadcasts are boring with only three people,” Fred says.
Tonks raises a pink eyebrow. “Significance, please?”
“You and Moony were rather not there.”
“When?”
“Monday.”
“What?”
“Monday,” he repeats.
Tonks considers this. “I guess the coin didn’t work,” she says, but rather unconvincingly, because there is really no way that a Protean Charm can simply stop working.
Fred is, as expected, unconvinced. “Sure,” he says. “’S not a huge deal, of course.”
“Yeah,” she says, but this is beside the point. The point is, there is only one person who could have overrode the Protean without her knowing, and that particular person often overlooks the blatantly obvious in the name of protecting her.
“You seen Remus recently?” she asks the twins.
“Not for a week or so,” says George.
Tonks has the sinking suspicion that when she returns home tonight, Remus won’t be there, and the note she left on the door will be perfectly untouched.
----
When Remus isn’t there for the third morning in a row, Tonks decides to go to her mother’s house, for reasons that she can’t logically explain. If she goes, her every move will be subject to the patented Black glare, and her decision to marry Remus will be scrutinized yet again by a woman who is really the master of all scrutinizers. But Andromeda is lonely as well, because Ted Tonks is in hiding and only communicates sporadically, and Tonks has the strange feeling that she will destroy something valuable if she stays in this flat any longer.
She can’t Floo, and she shouldn’t Apparate, so she ends up flying, which is rather fine by her. A part of her expects to be attacked by Death Eaters on the way, but she has no such misfortune and lands whole and surprisingly cleanly in Andromeda’s front yard. In a move of submission, she turns her hair from pink to a chestnut brown, which is better than her natural shade and subdued enough for Andromeda. Of all of the things her mother could choose to bring up, hair is one thing Tonks doesn’t feel like arguing about today.
She shrinks her broom and shoves it into her pocket with the Sickle, which is still blank, and rings the doorbell of the house easily, because she is allowed through all the security measures. Andromeda opens the door.
“Wotcher,” Tonks says.
“What happened to Theodore?” Andromeda says, her face panicked.
Tonks sighs. “Nothing.”
Andromeda relaxes a little. “You didn’t Apparate, did you? Are you getting enough sleep? Are you eating enough protein?”
“No. Yes. Yes.” Tonks sort of regrets having owled her mother about her pregnancy, but not really, because if she hadn’t it would be way more awkward right about now, especially since she’s starting to become visible.
“Are you sure?”
“Can I come in?”
“I’m supposed to ask you a security question.”
Tonks sighs again, because Andromeda is right and this fact annoys her. She scrunches up her forehead, turns the sensible hair into lime-green spikes, and then shifts it back. “Please?”
“Why are you here?” Andromeda asks, which Tonks interprets as “yes”, so she steps inside and removes her shoes.
“Where’s Remus?” Andromeda asks.
“Bingo!” Tonks says.
Andromeda seems not amused and rather confused.
“Have you seen Remus in the past sixty hours?” Tonks asks, because she’s on a roll now and she feels like getting the whole how-can-you-possibly-trust-this-man rant as soon as possible.
“No,” says Andromeda.
“Great,” says Tonks. “Just great. Dammit.”
“What was that?” says Andromeda, who, despite having married and mothered individuals with an affinity for swearing does not tolerate such nonsense in her home.
Tonks ignores the question. “I haven’t either. I haven't seen him for three days. And so I’m here, I guess, because I can’t think of anywhere else to be.” Suddenly, to her horror, she feels a lump in her throat and knows she is on the verge of tears.
Andromeda looks as though she is about to start the trademark rant, but then her gaze softens. “Well, stay as long as you like, then,” she says, and walks away.
----
The script for the next Potterwatch show - the Christmas one Tonks has been looking forward to for weeks - manages to find her even here. She unties it from the unfamiliar owl, pays, and unfolds the thick wad of paper. It appears blank, but she taps it with her wand, muttering, “Nuntium revelio,” which causes the handwritten text to appear.
The scripts are kind of a joke, because they always change - something new pops up, someone forgets to read the thing beforehand and speaks completely extemporaneously, someone decides to do a little personal advertising in the middle of a segment. But the basic skeleton of any script will remain mostly the same, so they’re not completely useless.
She reads through this one and is satisfied with it. It’s optimistic overall, and offers stories of wizards who have done simple yet effective things to protect themselves and their neighbors, suggestions on safe but festive celebrations for New Year’s, and an overall fluffy bit about how everyone’s efforts are necessary. It ends with the typical “Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night,” and the eight words are reassuring. She taps the script again and it goes blank and folds itself up, and it finds its way into the pocket of her cloak, which is sort of like a cesspool of random crap.
Remus is still gone. This fact is impossible for her to ignore, no matter how much she wants to, sort of like a broken foot. Yet somehow she is able to remain stupidly optimistic.
Andromeda doesn’t agree with this philosophy. “You should take this opportunity to move on, Nymphadora,” she says as they eat lasagna, which, Tonks can’t help noticing, was always her father’s favorite. “You’re too smart to go on like this.”
She chooses to ignore this comment even though it does make her angry, because this is her mother and by default she will lose all arguments.
For once, Andromeda senses the necessity of a subject change. “Have you heard of Potterwatch? I’ve been listening quite a bit. There’s a girl on there who sounds a lot like you, but I guess that's just a coincidence.”
Tonks drops her fork and nearly chokes on her lasagna.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” she says. “Good show. They’ve got the right idea.”
Andromeda nods. “Quite. I just wish their broadcast schedule was more regular.”
Tonks resists the temptation to tell her mother that the next broadcast of Potterwatch will be, according to the glowing numbers on her Sickle, on December 27, and that she is only slightly miffed that Andromeda was unable to instantly recognize her voice. That, however, would almost certainly be idiocy.
----
Christmas comes and goes and Tonks hardly even notices, because it has finally sunk in that Remus is gone and she doesn’t know where he is, and that she is frustrated and angry and wants to scream obscenities at him, and that this winter is turning into a duplicate of the last one. Potterwatch is tomorrow, but she doesn’t know how she’s going to manage the whole happiness thing. When the doorbell rings, her hair is lank and mouse brown and her eyes are rimmed with red, but she volunteers to get it anyways.
She unlocks the door and opens it.
He looks awful - there are dark spots that look like bruises under his eyes, and his cloak looks as though it is going to fall off of him, and his mouth is drawn.
He looks like an angel.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and only briefly does she remember that she wants to scream obscenities at him before she flings herself at him and buries her face into his shoulder.
“Where the hell have you been?” she says, which is all she can think of to say, and he sighs and pulls her to him and doesn’t answer, because now is not the time for him to explain everything.
She steps back. “I should be doing a security check,” she mutters, but she can’t remember the question she’s supposed to ask him. “What’s my broadcast alias?” she finally spits out.
He smiles. “Raven,” he says, reaching out and tucking a clump of her hair behind her ear. There is so much she wants to ask him, but that all requires being angry with him, which, illogically, she is entirely unable to do at this point.
“Speaking of which,” he says, “I think that Potterwatch is tomorrow.”
----
Author: spira (the_conspiracie)
Rating & Warnings: K+ for mild swearing
Prompts: “‘Support Harry Potter’ parties are unwise in the present climate.” “Indeed they are, Romulus, so we suggest that you continue to show your devotion to the man with the lightning scar by listening to Potterwatch!” except mostly I just used the Potterwatch part.
Format & Word Count: 3455, full fic
Summary: Remus can’t share Tonks’s excitement about Potterwatch, nor about a wide variety of other things.
Author’s Notes: DH-era. This is my second R/T fic ever, first here at Meta. I’m glad to be here (but slightly terrified)! I apologize if the timeline here is somewhat non-canon, because I didn’t feel like researching.
“I think this Potterwatch thing sounds great,” says Tonks, who is leaning forward eagerly in her chair at the Burrow and looks dangerously close to spilling her hot chocolate. Her hair is a fluorescent shade of blue today, which she is convinced makes her look more authoritative but actually only clashes rather shockingly with her kelly green vest.
“As long as we’re careful,” says Remus, who looks neither authoritative nor shocking, from next to her.
“Naturally,” says Lee Jordan, whom they have all invited here at Fred and George’s request, because the twins said he had a plan and because what they all need right now is a good plan. “We’ll prescreen everything we say with you all, and it’s not like we’ll be spreading secrets anyways. Just common sense stuff. You know, protective charms over houses, don’t Apparate alone at night, don’t have Support Potter parties - ”
“Basically, an on-the-air Moody,” Fred says from across the round table. “All of the warnings at a fraction of the price.”
“It’ll be happy, too, right?” says Tonks, who chooses to ignore the Moody comment because it really shouldn’t make her angry. “We need to keep people optimistic.”
“Course,” says Lee. “Keep people informed and hopeful. Sounds good.”
“And we’ll somehow manage not to spread people’s names around?” says Remus, who is still skeptical.
“Code names!” Fred says eagerly.
Remus didn’t seem convinced. “Our voices, though? Are we going to Charm them?”
“I see no need,” says Kingsley, who sits next to him and until this point has been listening interestedly but silently. “If we are going to broadcast effectively and keep people hopeful, we need to accept the risks. And what if Harry manages to hear us?” he adds, when Remus starts to open his mouth in protest. “We want him to know that we’re supporting him, that we’re helping him even if not directly. This is for Harry, is it not?”
“Code names are enough,” agrees Tonks. Remus turns to her, silently beseeching her, but she simply smiles and looks toward Fred and Lee.
“Rapier,” Fred says instantly, grinning.
Lee laughs and punches his arm. “You should be Rodent,” he says. “Fits better.”
Fred frowns. “I like Rapier,” he insists. “What about you, then?”
“River,” Lee says. “You know, River Lee, River Jordan.” He looks immensely pleased with himself to have made this connection.
Kingsley nods his approval. “Royal,” he says, and Lee nods enthusiastically. Everyone turns to look at Remus.
“I don’t now if code names are enough,” he says.
Tonks rolls her eyes. “It’s four against one, Remus, are you in this or not?” she says, but her tone is playful beneath the demanding words.
“I just think we should do more - ” Remus says, but Tonks interrupts him.
“Pick a name,” she orders, her eyes locked into his.
He sighs, knowing full well that he has lost the battle. “Romulus, then,” he says. The four other people at the table show no comprehension.
This time it is Remus who rolls his eyes. “Muggle legend,” he explains. “Romulus was the founder of Rome, and the twin of Remus.”
“Okay,” says Lee, and turns to Tonks. Remus half expects her to say “Rainbow”.
“Raven,” she says.
Remus and Kingsley know that she has just named her original Patronus, but Lee doesn’t. He doesn’t really seem to care, though, for he nods and says, “All right, then.”
Suddenly Fred lights up. “Hey, Lee, remember those coins Hermione bewitched for the DA two years back? I bet we could do the same thing for us!”
“Protean Charms?” says Lee. “Brilliant - I can’t cast a good enough one, though.”
Tonks knows full well that she is perfectly capable of casting a good enough Protean. She keeps her gaze fixed on Remus, though. Lee and George have done the same, she can tell, because after a few seconds of silence, he sighs again and says, “All right.”
Tonks grins. “Sickles,” she says, and passes one over. The others do the same, and Remus pull out his wand and begins muttering things at the five silver coins in front of him.
“I have all of the equipment,” Lee says. “We can start whenever we want.”
“Tomorrow,” Tonks and Fred say together, and they all laugh.
----
“That was good,” Tonks says as she and Remus leave the Burrow after their first broadcast and walk home, because home is only a few blocks away and because the air is brisk and it’s nice to be outside.
“I suppose so,” says Remus, whose hands are buried deep into the pockets of his cloak.
“No, really,” says Tonks. “This is how we’re going to denounce all of those stupid Ministry rumors, and how we’re going to get the good people united, and how we’re going to win. Lee Jordan is bloody brilliant.”
“But what about the bad people?” Remus insists.
“What about them?” The wind blows Tonks’s purple scarf out of its loose knot, and she fumbles to fix it with her gloved hands.
Remus looks up at the grey sky, around at the dreary collection of houses that it their neighborhood, and back at Tonks, whose pink hair sets her obviously apart from their lackluster surroundings. “What if they use this against us?”
“You keep going on about that, but it won’t happen,” says Tonks, still fiddling with the scarf. “The Death Eaters are focused on big things. On the Ministry. On Hogwarts. On the WWN and the Prophet. They’re not even going to notice five people making a little underground broadcast. And even if they do, that’s a risk we’ve got to take.”
Remus turns to face her and stops so suddenly that she runs into him. He stares down at her. “So it’s better sorry than safe? Why? Why do we have to take that risk?”
Tonks looks up at him. “Because it’s better than doing nothing.”
----
“And that, friends, brings us to the end of another Potterwatch,” Lee announces simultaneously to no one in particular and to the entire Wizarding world after Tonks finishes refuting the apparently common misconception that Death Eaters use dementors in place of owls. They are in the attic of Shell Cottage for this particular broadcast, their fourth ever, and though they have no idea how many people are listening they would like to believe that hundreds, maybe even a thousand are tuning in.
“The next password is Fabian. Check back often - we’ll broadcast again whenever we can. Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night.” With that, he flicks his wand at the little box behind him, which chirps happily and signals that they are no longer being recorded.
“Nice,” Fred says as Lee turns back to survey his broadcast crew. Kingsley sits in a wood chair, his posture straight and a satisfied smile on his face. Remus is sprawled on an aging loveseat that was white in its former life, and Tonks is on the floor by his feet. She flashes Lee a thumbs up.
“Subtle use of advertising, Weasley,” Kingsley says, in a voice that is sarcastic but approving. Fred grins. They had all noticed his unscripted mention of the fact that Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes was still open and running strong in Diagon Alley. Tonks thinks that this is a good way to make people happy. Remus thinks that this is pure idiocy.
“What are we going to do for Christmas?” Tonks asks.
“What do you mean?” says Lee?
“WWN isn’t going to be broadcasting anything special, I heard the announcement the other day,” she explains. “And, you know, it’s Christmas. People expect Christmasy stuff on the wireless.”
“Are you suggesting we bring in Celestina Warbeck?” Remus asks. “I believe that would scare away a number of our listeners.”
“All of them but Mum,” Fred adds, and they laugh.
“It’s only the twenty-eighth. We have four weeks to think about it,” Kingsley says, restoring he calm with his deep voice.
Tonks nods. “We don’t need to do a lot. We just have to give people Christmas.”
“That’s a rather tall order,” Remus says quietly, and he’s rather sure no one but Tonks hears him.
“Ve have dinner!” Fleur calls from downstairs seconds later. Lee and Fred hurry down, followed by Kingsley. Tonks stays, and turns to Remus.
“Still not onboard, eh?”
Remus smiles sadly. “’Giving people Christmas’ sounds much harder than proving the difference between dementors and owls.” He expects her to laugh, or at least smile, but instead she hoists herself up onto the small couch and locks her grey eyes into his.
“Remus, have you seen Hogsmeade lately?” she says.
He considers this. “I’ve seen pictures in the Prophet.”
“I hate it. It makes me sick,” she says, with her typical fierce passion. “It’s almost bloody December now, and there should be lights and colors and festivity, but there’s not, because of him.”
“And we can fix some of that,” he finishes for her.
She smiles and nods.
“And we’re the only people who can fix that,” he says.
She grins.
“Okay,” he says, and she throws her arms around him.
----
Two days later, Remus is sitting at his pitiful excuse of a dining table, reading the Quibbler, which is a rather pitiful excuse of a newspaper, and eating toast, a pitiful excuse of a breakfast, when his pink-haired wife enters their kitchen.
“Remus?” she says casually, picking at the sleeve of her cerulean jumper.
“Mmm?” He looks up, his mind still focused on the Quibbler’s entirely inaccurate advice concerning doxies.
“I’m pregnant.”
----
Their Sickles change on the fifth or so, but Remus wants nothing to do with Potterwatch. Before Tonks wakes up, he finds her coin, changes the broadcast announcement, and pretends that the whole thing never existed.
“Thought we’d have another broadcast soon,” she says while they eat breakfast. “Guess Lee’s busy or something.”
Remus notices the disappointment in her voice but tries to ignore it. “Mmm,” he mutters in assent, and looks away.
Lee tells them all to keep each other safe at the end of every broadcast, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Keeping her safe.
----
When Tonks wakes up, the first thing she does is check the silver Sickle that she places in her left shoe every evening. The coin is in the shoe to remind her to check it, but really it forces her to leave her shoes in a sensible location, because she would remember to check the coin regardless of where she put it. This is useful, because she is always misplacing her shoes.
There is nothing new on the Sickle this Saturday - only today’s date, 11 December 1997, is etched in small numbers around the edge of the coin where the serial number usually is found on a regular coin. Lee hasn’t announced the next broadcast date. She shrugs, throws on a T-shirt (the one she happens to grab reads “How to Dissect a Chocolate Frog” on the front and “1. Screw this, eat the frog” on the back) and a cloak and pockets the coin.
Remus isn’t home, but this doesn’t surprise her. Most likely, he is off at the Burrow or purchasing food or walking around somewhere, and he’ll be back within a few hours.
She devours an untoasted cheese sandwich because she is rather afraid of attempting to toast it, scrawls a note to Remus and leaves it on the door, and Apparates to the Burrow, because she has nothing better to do. It is only after she has done so that she remembers that, being pregnant, she shouldn’t be Apparating, and she curses her own stupidity.
Molly greets her happily and leads her inside, where Arthur Weasley, who is reading an odd-looking book that she assumes is some sort of Muggle publication, and the twins, who are fervently discussing something that she assumes pertains to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.
Arthur notices her first. “Oh, hello, Tonks,” he greets her. “I was just reading this Ford F-350 manual. It’s fascinating.”
Tonks stares at him blankly.
“Muggle car,” he explains.
“Ah,” she says, sitting in one of Molly’s more comfortable armchairs. “Sounds exciting,” she adds, but Arthur is already immersed in the manual again.
“Broadcasts are boring with only three people,” Fred says.
Tonks raises a pink eyebrow. “Significance, please?”
“You and Moony were rather not there.”
“When?”
“Monday.”
“What?”
“Monday,” he repeats.
Tonks considers this. “I guess the coin didn’t work,” she says, but rather unconvincingly, because there is really no way that a Protean Charm can simply stop working.
Fred is, as expected, unconvinced. “Sure,” he says. “’S not a huge deal, of course.”
“Yeah,” she says, but this is beside the point. The point is, there is only one person who could have overrode the Protean without her knowing, and that particular person often overlooks the blatantly obvious in the name of protecting her.
“You seen Remus recently?” she asks the twins.
“Not for a week or so,” says George.
Tonks has the sinking suspicion that when she returns home tonight, Remus won’t be there, and the note she left on the door will be perfectly untouched.
----
When Remus isn’t there for the third morning in a row, Tonks decides to go to her mother’s house, for reasons that she can’t logically explain. If she goes, her every move will be subject to the patented Black glare, and her decision to marry Remus will be scrutinized yet again by a woman who is really the master of all scrutinizers. But Andromeda is lonely as well, because Ted Tonks is in hiding and only communicates sporadically, and Tonks has the strange feeling that she will destroy something valuable if she stays in this flat any longer.
She can’t Floo, and she shouldn’t Apparate, so she ends up flying, which is rather fine by her. A part of her expects to be attacked by Death Eaters on the way, but she has no such misfortune and lands whole and surprisingly cleanly in Andromeda’s front yard. In a move of submission, she turns her hair from pink to a chestnut brown, which is better than her natural shade and subdued enough for Andromeda. Of all of the things her mother could choose to bring up, hair is one thing Tonks doesn’t feel like arguing about today.
She shrinks her broom and shoves it into her pocket with the Sickle, which is still blank, and rings the doorbell of the house easily, because she is allowed through all the security measures. Andromeda opens the door.
“Wotcher,” Tonks says.
“What happened to Theodore?” Andromeda says, her face panicked.
Tonks sighs. “Nothing.”
Andromeda relaxes a little. “You didn’t Apparate, did you? Are you getting enough sleep? Are you eating enough protein?”
“No. Yes. Yes.” Tonks sort of regrets having owled her mother about her pregnancy, but not really, because if she hadn’t it would be way more awkward right about now, especially since she’s starting to become visible.
“Are you sure?”
“Can I come in?”
“I’m supposed to ask you a security question.”
Tonks sighs again, because Andromeda is right and this fact annoys her. She scrunches up her forehead, turns the sensible hair into lime-green spikes, and then shifts it back. “Please?”
“Why are you here?” Andromeda asks, which Tonks interprets as “yes”, so she steps inside and removes her shoes.
“Where’s Remus?” Andromeda asks.
“Bingo!” Tonks says.
Andromeda seems not amused and rather confused.
“Have you seen Remus in the past sixty hours?” Tonks asks, because she’s on a roll now and she feels like getting the whole how-can-you-possibly-trust-this-man rant as soon as possible.
“No,” says Andromeda.
“Great,” says Tonks. “Just great. Dammit.”
“What was that?” says Andromeda, who, despite having married and mothered individuals with an affinity for swearing does not tolerate such nonsense in her home.
Tonks ignores the question. “I haven’t either. I haven't seen him for three days. And so I’m here, I guess, because I can’t think of anywhere else to be.” Suddenly, to her horror, she feels a lump in her throat and knows she is on the verge of tears.
Andromeda looks as though she is about to start the trademark rant, but then her gaze softens. “Well, stay as long as you like, then,” she says, and walks away.
----
The script for the next Potterwatch show - the Christmas one Tonks has been looking forward to for weeks - manages to find her even here. She unties it from the unfamiliar owl, pays, and unfolds the thick wad of paper. It appears blank, but she taps it with her wand, muttering, “Nuntium revelio,” which causes the handwritten text to appear.
The scripts are kind of a joke, because they always change - something new pops up, someone forgets to read the thing beforehand and speaks completely extemporaneously, someone decides to do a little personal advertising in the middle of a segment. But the basic skeleton of any script will remain mostly the same, so they’re not completely useless.
She reads through this one and is satisfied with it. It’s optimistic overall, and offers stories of wizards who have done simple yet effective things to protect themselves and their neighbors, suggestions on safe but festive celebrations for New Year’s, and an overall fluffy bit about how everyone’s efforts are necessary. It ends with the typical “Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night,” and the eight words are reassuring. She taps the script again and it goes blank and folds itself up, and it finds its way into the pocket of her cloak, which is sort of like a cesspool of random crap.
Remus is still gone. This fact is impossible for her to ignore, no matter how much she wants to, sort of like a broken foot. Yet somehow she is able to remain stupidly optimistic.
Andromeda doesn’t agree with this philosophy. “You should take this opportunity to move on, Nymphadora,” she says as they eat lasagna, which, Tonks can’t help noticing, was always her father’s favorite. “You’re too smart to go on like this.”
She chooses to ignore this comment even though it does make her angry, because this is her mother and by default she will lose all arguments.
For once, Andromeda senses the necessity of a subject change. “Have you heard of Potterwatch? I’ve been listening quite a bit. There’s a girl on there who sounds a lot like you, but I guess that's just a coincidence.”
Tonks drops her fork and nearly chokes on her lasagna.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” she says. “Good show. They’ve got the right idea.”
Andromeda nods. “Quite. I just wish their broadcast schedule was more regular.”
Tonks resists the temptation to tell her mother that the next broadcast of Potterwatch will be, according to the glowing numbers on her Sickle, on December 27, and that she is only slightly miffed that Andromeda was unable to instantly recognize her voice. That, however, would almost certainly be idiocy.
----
Christmas comes and goes and Tonks hardly even notices, because it has finally sunk in that Remus is gone and she doesn’t know where he is, and that she is frustrated and angry and wants to scream obscenities at him, and that this winter is turning into a duplicate of the last one. Potterwatch is tomorrow, but she doesn’t know how she’s going to manage the whole happiness thing. When the doorbell rings, her hair is lank and mouse brown and her eyes are rimmed with red, but she volunteers to get it anyways.
She unlocks the door and opens it.
He looks awful - there are dark spots that look like bruises under his eyes, and his cloak looks as though it is going to fall off of him, and his mouth is drawn.
He looks like an angel.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and only briefly does she remember that she wants to scream obscenities at him before she flings herself at him and buries her face into his shoulder.
“Where the hell have you been?” she says, which is all she can think of to say, and he sighs and pulls her to him and doesn’t answer, because now is not the time for him to explain everything.
She steps back. “I should be doing a security check,” she mutters, but she can’t remember the question she’s supposed to ask him. “What’s my broadcast alias?” she finally spits out.
He smiles. “Raven,” he says, reaching out and tucking a clump of her hair behind her ear. There is so much she wants to ask him, but that all requires being angry with him, which, illogically, she is entirely unable to do at this point.
“Speaking of which,” he says, “I think that Potterwatch is tomorrow.”
----