Remus Lupin and the Legend of the Metamorph Medal
Title: Remus Lupin and the Legend of the Metamorph Medal
Author: captainraz
Format: Fic
Rating & Warnings: PG. Some Language. I am a flag flyer for the Snape-was-acting-on-Dumbledore’s-orders-and-is-a-good-guy-really camp. Just so you know.
Prompts: Metamorph Medal, McGonagall, Harry, Snape, Grovel, Drama/Rom Com
Word Count: 3642 words
Summary: When McGonagall sends Remus on what appears to be a wild-goose-chase, he find out something very valuable for the Order. In doing so he finds a new set of responsibilities, and learns to live up to some existing ones. Set post Hospital-Wing
Author’s Notes: Really not happy with the way this one turned out, but I wanted to put it up anyway. For shwenny, who had to put up with huge complaints from me about this.
Remus Lupin was a grown man, and as such did not particularly care for being made to feel like a fifteen year old summoned to the Headmistress’s office. Especially when in his mind, the office still rightfully belonged to a dear friend, whose demise the night before hadn’t yet fully begun to sink in. Therefore, it was with great reluctance that Remus was sat before the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, feeling all-too-uncomfortably-fifteen whilst McGonagall fixed him with the same glare she had given him last night in the Hospital Wing. It was quite possibly against all laws of magic, physics and whatever else for her to be able to make her lips that thin.
“I’m sure that you, of all people, Remus, will be able to appreciate the seriousness of the situation”
“I think we can all agree that the situation is pretty dire,” replied Remus evenly, keeping his face and voice devoid of any emotion. It still hurt far too much to even contemplate thinking about what had happened last night.
“We are two Order members down, one injured, and we cannot reasonably expect full commitment from any of the Weasley family at the moment. Therefore, it is imperative that the remaining Order members are all one hundred percent up to their potential and ready for anything.”
Remus frowned; he had absolutely no idea where this was going, though he had a rather uneasy feeling it the pit of his stomach.
“I am, of course, referring to Nymphadora’s current inability to morph.”
Now Remus was really uncomfortable. Nymphadora Tonks was the last thing he expected McGonagall to want to talk to him about, and honestly, the last person he wanted to discuss; especially the subject of her morphing.
“I’m not entirely sure what it is you are getting at, Minerva. Though I would hope you know I’d do anything to see Tonks with pink hair again.”
“Anything except date her?” questioned McGonagall cuttingly. Remus physically winced as her lips pressed even tighter together.
“Alright. What is it that you wish me to do?” asked Remus wearily; oh how he was tired of people bringing him into question over his decision to push Tonks away.
“You will be aware, I’m sure, of the existence of items known as ‘Metamorph Medals?” asked McGonagall.
“Arthur confiscated a load of them a few months back. They purport to give the bearer Metamorphmagus powers, but they are actually hoax items. They are more like something that the Weasley Twins would market, rather than anything that could help Tonks.”
“I am not sure that Arthur would appreciate you casting such aspersions over his sons, but you are right; for the most part, Metamorph Medals are indeed joke objects.”
“What do you mean, ‘for the most part’?” asked Remus, his curiosity piqued.
“The hoaxers had to get their basic idea from somewhere. There is a legend that tells of a Metamorphmagus who was not born with the powers, but rather constructed a fully functioning Metamorph Medal. I want you to investigate the truth behind this ‘legend,’ as I believe it is the only way to help Nymphadora get her powers back”
Remus didn’t think that it was the only way that Tonks could get her powers back. He thought that growing up and realising that he was too old, too poor and too dangerous for her, that he wasn’t going to change his mind any time soon, and that she should get over him would also help, in the end. Not that he was going to say that aloud, to Minerva McGonagall.
Instead, “You want me to find this ‘Metamorph Medal’ so that Tonks can get her powers back?” is what actually came out of Remus’ mouth.
“Correct. Our most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had one or two books on the subject, as he was, come to think of it, disturbingly fascinated with Nymphadora’s condition. I suggest you start your search in his quarters.”
Remus was summarily dismissed from the Headmistress’s office, feeling once again all-too-like his fifteen year old self; inadequate for the task set him, berated for a choice he felt was right and others deemed wrong, and his skin crawling with the prospect of doing something that he did not particularly want to do. This ‘mission’ felt more like detention than something that could prove beneficial to the Order.
“I am a school prefect and as such I should enforce the rules, not break them.”
Soon enough, Remus found himself in Severus Snape’s abandoned quarters, searching for his collection of books on Metamorphmagi and Metamorph Medals. As McGonagall had said, there were a disturbingly large number of them. Therefore Remus, reasoning that Snape wasn’t going to need these books in the near future, and that he really didn’t want to stay in this room any longer than strictly necessary, he decided to take the books elsewhere to peruse. So, after gathering up the books that looked most promising he flooed to No.12 Grimmauld Place.
Several hours passed, and all Remus had to show for his efforts was a crick in his neck and a few uncomfortable insights into how it felt to be a Metamorphmagus.
“The Metamorphmagus is widely mistrusted for their ability to change their features at will. Many people fear that Metamorphmagi may use their powers for ill, taking on the forms of loved ones in order to manipulate people to their will…”
See Remus, she does understand how it feels to be an outcast, for a condition that is not your fault.
Remus shook away the unhelpful thought, tossed that book on to the discard pile, and pulled yet another tome towards him. This book was by a man called Elfric Umbridge, and was entitled ‘The Metamorphmagus Problem; Natural Ability or Clever Spellwork?”. Several minutes’ perusal revealed a passage that looked very promising;
“Records suggest the existence of a man in the early 18th Century who used a spelled amulet to change his appearance at will. Harold Fletcher, who had a falling out with the Gringott’s Goblins in 1706, reportedly left his charmed amulet buried in the garden of his family home in Godric’s Hollow. There have been many attempts to recover Fletcher’s amulet, however, no evidence has been found of its existence in the village. Some have speculated that the amulet was destroyed along with the house in a fire in 1892, and others still conjecture that it can only be found by a fellow shape-shifter…”
Remus sat back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. Godric’s Hollow. The last place in Britain he wanted to visit, but it was his only lead, and as much as he disliked it, it was a mission for the Order. A mission it was imperative he complete successfully. Minerva had been right; with the losses the Order had suffered the previous night they needed Tonks back to her full abilities; who knew what the future held for them, who knew how much they might need the Metamorphmagus?
Wearily, Remus glanced at the big grandfather clock in the library. Half past eleven. There was no sense in travelling to Godric’s Hollow tonight. Best leave it ‘til morning, when he would hopefully be a little fresher, and ready to deal with the emotional weight of returning to Godric’s Hollow for the first time in nearly sixteen years. If only Remus could guarantee that he would sleep, and sleep soundly, undisturbed by his usual nightmares, dreams of the events of barely twenty-four hours ago, and tortuous dreams of a certain Nymphadora Tonks. He sighed heavily, and dragged himself off to bed.
============================================================================================
Lightening split the sky over Godric’s Hollow, and the rain lashed down from clouds that were very nearly black, turning the sky almost as dark as night. Remus Lupin pulled his cloak tighter about him, but to no avail; he was already soaked to the bone, and his threadbare cloak was doing little to keep out the unseasonably chilly wind. Remus thought the weather created a very fitting atmosphere for his return to the village. For this was the first time he’d visited since their funeral, since he watched James and Lily Potter lowered into the Earth. Desperately he shook away macabre thoughts of the past and focussed on his mission. But still Remus could not push away the cold feeling of loneliness that had lived in the pit of his stomach for almost as long as he could remember.
“Even you don’t deserve to be lonely forever, Remus.”
Remus was almost certain he could hear the words spoken by an all-too-familiar voice in his ear. But he knew it was just the effects of having not slept properly in weeks, so shaking his head to clear his thoughts Remus trudged off down the village towards the ruins of the old Fletcher house.
As he approached the building, Remus peered through the gloom and the sheeting rain; there sat figure in the ruins, as if waiting for him to arrive. Slowly and cautiously, Remus drew his wand and stalked closer. A few metres away, the identity of the lingering figure became apparent to him.
“You!” cried Remus, anger and hatred boiling up inside him.
“I wondered when you might get here,” answered the familiar sneering tones of one Severus Snape.
“I walked right in to your little trap then!” spat Remus, furious at his own folly. His wand was raised now, but his arm was visibly trembling with anger.
“Don’t flatter yourself!” snapped Snape. “I most certainly would not go out of my way to plan anything this elaborate, if I did indeed wish to eradicate you I would not go to nearly as much effort as this, believe me. Lower your wand, Lupin; I am no threat to you.”
“You are a fool if you think I am going to trust you, turncoat,” said Remus icily, wand arm never moving. “There is a reward for your capture, you know. I should bring you in; they might even give me an Order of Merlin for capturing Albus Dumbledore’s murderer.”
A strange look passed over Snape’s face then; for a moment it almost looked like the man was in pain. But as soon as it had appeared the look had vanished, replaced by the characteristic sneer.
“As you wish, Lupin, but I do believe I have something that you need.”
“The Metamorph Medal?” asked Lupin. Snape laughed.
“I would have thought that a man of your intelligence would have figured it out by now. There is no such thing.” Remus’ inability to hide his confusion elicited another cold laugh from Snape. He reached inside his robes, causing Remus to tighten his grip on his wand, but Snape merely pulled out a piece of parchment.
“This is what you were really sent to retrieve, Lupin,” drawled Snape.
“What is it?” asked Remus, still not trusting the man enough to lower his wand.
“A contingency plan, left by the leader of the Order of the Phoenix in the event of his unexpected death,” said Snape, through gritted teeth, as though the words were costing him dearly.
“How do I know that I can trust anything that you give me, or anything that you have said so far for that matter?”
“You don’t,” replied the other man, “You only need to believe in Dumbledore, and believe that he was correct when he told you I was indeed trustworthy.”
Remus lunged forward, pressing his wand tip against Snape’s cheek. Small sparks escaped the end, gently singeing sallow skin.
“How dare you say his name you traitorous worm!” spat Remus. “How can you speak his name after what you did you murderous bastard?”
Snape locked burning dark eyes onto Remus’, his face contorted in some kind of pain. When Snape next spoke, his tone was calm and measured, but his voice was strained and laced with a profound pain that not even he- talented Occlumens and brilliant double-agent that he was- could hide.
“I am playing my part, Lupin, and all that is asked of you is that you play your part too. Take the parchment, and stop running from your responsibilities. And Dumbledore didn’t just mean the responsibilities that you will have as Leader of the Order.”
“Leader of the-”
But that was as far as Remus got because Snape thrust the parchment at him and as soon as the paper touched his skin he felt the familiar sensation of a hook behind his navel, and Snape disappeared from view.
=============================================================================================
Remus felt his feet hit the ground just outside the Hogwarts Headmistress' office, clutching a piece of rolled up parchment and looking down his wand at the familiar face of Nymphadora Tonks, who looked vaguely baffled that he had just bellowed the word “Order” at her.
“Remus! What in the name of Merlin’s Knickers?”
He simply stood there, dripping wet and panting heavily, thoughts running ten to the dozen inside his head as he attempted to process what just happened. Tonks took out her own wand and performed a drying charm on his clothes and hair as she waited for Remus to answer her. She is used to waiting for Remus; he’s made her wait for a lot of things, so waiting for him to decide to speak is nothing. Eventually Remus gets his breathing and his thoughts in control, and for the first time he seems to register Tonks’ presence.
“Nymphadora-?” a wand is in his face.
“It’s Tonks!” growls the mousy haired Auror.
“Tonks,” Remus concedes. “What are you doing here?”
“Talk to McGonagall about the other night,” shrugged Tonks. Why are you wet?”
“Was raining,” answered Remus cryptically. “Listen, I’ve got some business to tie up with Minerva, but when I’ve finished would you like to go get a coffee with me, or something? We really need to talk.”
Tonks’ face lit up.
“Yeah, I’d like that. Did you find it then, the Metamorph Medal?” Remus shook his head sadly.
“It would seem that the only Metamorph Medals in existence are the hoax items. I’m sorry, Tonks.”
Tonks nodded sadly and gestured for Remus to sort out his business with McGonagall first.
Half an hour later it had been firmly established that that parchment Snape had provided was genuinely from Dumbledore, and that Remus was indeed the new leader of the Order of the Phoenix.
It was then that the conversation, debriefing, turned to the mission regarding the Metamorph Medal, and that was when it all turned nasty. Minerva acerbically pointed out that since Remus was now in charge of the Order, it was down to him to boost moral of the members and ensure that they were all ready for whatever the Death Eaters might throw at them, especially in the light of his most recent failed mission. Remus had snapped then; he was exhausted and had so many emotions running around inside him that anger was the easiest one to express. He told Minerva that his personal life was none of hers, or anyone else’s, business. To which Minerva replied that “it was if your bad judgement with your personal life affects the smooth running of the Order.” By this point Remus was far too angry to take note of what she had said- was it really bad judgment that he was trying to save Tonks by pushing her away?- and, to save face, he simply walked out.
Tonks realised he was in a foul mood as he stormed out of McGonagall’s office, but she followed him anyway; it had been months since he had willingly agreed to talk with her, and she wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.
Remus seethed up right up until the first drop of hot coffee slid down his throat, and then he allowed himself to calm down. Tonks was sat across the table from him in the muggle café, looking expectantly at him, waiting for him to make the first move. Remus ran his hands wearily over his face, and took a deep breath.
“Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be worth giving in to you just to get everyone else off my back,” said Remus with a small huff of laughter.
“What?” snapped Tonks angrily. “That’s nice Remus; you’ll never consider being with me because I love you, but you’ll contemplate it just so that you can have an easier life. Thanks for clearing that up for me, Remus, I don’t know why I ever bothered with you in the first place!”
Tonks made to get up, but Remus reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Don’t go Tonks, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” there was a new edge to his voice as he spoke. It almost sounded like vulnerability almost like he was pleading with her for once. Tonks’ countenance softened; she was tired of fighting too.
“Alright, I’ll hear you out, Lupin.”
Remus took a few more sips of his drink before continuing.
“I hope you realise that, no matter what might happen, I will always be too old, too poor and too dangerous for you.” Tonks started, but Remus held up his hand. “I know you say you don’t care about that, and maybe you should.
“I’m responsible for the Order now, and Minerva thinks that means I’m responsible for morale and welfare, specifically your morale and welfare. That’s what I meant about getting everybody off my back. For the past year I’ve had half the Order trying to convince me that I’m an idiot for pushing you away, and I just wish they’d let me make my own choice on the matter.”
“Just like I wish you had let me make my own decision on the matter,” Tonks pointed out.
“Had?” asked Remus, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“I’m tired, Remus,” said Tonks, placing her arms on the table and resting her head on them. “I’m tired of fighting you; of fighting with for something I’m not certain you’ll ever be willing to give me. And I certainly don’t want you to give a relationship a shot, only to decide six months down the line that it was a mistake to let me in. I just can’t stand this any more.”
“The reason I have spent so long pushing you away is because I know that once I’ve had a taste of you, I won’t be able to let you go, and I don’t want that for you. You deserve more than to be tied down to a poor, middle-aged werewolf.”
“I don’t know if I’ve got it in me any more to take a chance on you, Remus. I still had hope, until the other night in the Hospital Wing, when you crushed me in front of half the Order, the kids…”
In that moment, just as everything had been snatched away from him, Remus knew what a fool he had been. He had not been acting in Tonks’ best interests to pull away from her; he had been acting selfishly to protect his own fragile heart, and in the process he had destroyed her. He had taken away her youth and vivacity when he had thought he was preserving it. And now, as he realised his stupidity, Tonks had given up on him, and he felt empty inside.
Merlin, what have I done?
“I… I want to be everything you need, everything you deserve. I want to give you hope for a brighter future. Merlin knows I would do anything, anything to make you pink again.”
Tonks looked dubiously at his from the pillow of her arms.
“Don’t make me beg, Nymphadora. As undignified as grovelling at your feet might be, I’ll do it; I’ll plead and beg and grovel for just one of those many chances that I’ve thrown away.”
“Don’t call me Nymphadora,” said Tonks. But Remus caught the smile in her voice and knew that she hadn’t quite given up on him yet. “You deserve to be made to grovel, after the hell you’ve put me through.”
Dutifully, Remus slid out of his chair and to his knees before her. Tonks sat up straight and he took her hands in his, ignoring the funny looks they were getting from passing muggles.
“I have been the world’s biggest fool, and if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making that up to you. And know I don’t deserve it, but can you ever forgive me for being a noble prat?”
“I suppose…” said Tonks, badly feigning nonchalance. Remus broke out in a wide grin, his first proper smiled since Sirius died. Rising up on his knees he pressed his lips to hers, and the whole café broke in to rapturous applause, obviously assuming that he had just proposed.
Tonks blushed, and Remus noticed that as the pink crept up her face it carried on going and stained the roots of her hair as well. Thinking quickly, Remus stood up and pulled the hood of Tonks’ cloak over her head, both preventing them from having to perform any memory charms and affording them some measure of privacy.
“I told you I’d do anything to make you pink again,” Remus whispered into Tonks’ ear.
“Anything except date me?” asked Tonks with a quirked eyebrow, and sounding far too much like McGonagall for Remus’ liking.
“Does kissing you in public count?”
Tonks nodded, blushing furiously and letting her hair return to its trademark bubblegum pink, before morphing it short and spiked once more.
“I think Dumbledore would be glad to see you wearing that colour again; I know I certainly am,” he whispered softly.
“Anything else to add, Mr Order Leader?” asked Tonks, the mischievous sparkle back in her eyes again.
Remus shook his head, and for once, did the sensible thing and lowered his mouth to hers for another kiss.
Author: captainraz
Format: Fic
Rating & Warnings: PG. Some Language. I am a flag flyer for the Snape-was-acting-on-Dumbledore’s-orders-and-is-a-good-guy-really camp. Just so you know.
Prompts: Metamorph Medal, McGonagall, Harry, Snape, Grovel, Drama/Rom Com
Word Count: 3642 words
Summary: When McGonagall sends Remus on what appears to be a wild-goose-chase, he find out something very valuable for the Order. In doing so he finds a new set of responsibilities, and learns to live up to some existing ones. Set post Hospital-Wing
Author’s Notes: Really not happy with the way this one turned out, but I wanted to put it up anyway. For shwenny, who had to put up with huge complaints from me about this.
Remus Lupin was a grown man, and as such did not particularly care for being made to feel like a fifteen year old summoned to the Headmistress’s office. Especially when in his mind, the office still rightfully belonged to a dear friend, whose demise the night before hadn’t yet fully begun to sink in. Therefore, it was with great reluctance that Remus was sat before the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, feeling all-too-uncomfortably-fifteen whilst McGonagall fixed him with the same glare she had given him last night in the Hospital Wing. It was quite possibly against all laws of magic, physics and whatever else for her to be able to make her lips that thin.
“I’m sure that you, of all people, Remus, will be able to appreciate the seriousness of the situation”
“I think we can all agree that the situation is pretty dire,” replied Remus evenly, keeping his face and voice devoid of any emotion. It still hurt far too much to even contemplate thinking about what had happened last night.
“We are two Order members down, one injured, and we cannot reasonably expect full commitment from any of the Weasley family at the moment. Therefore, it is imperative that the remaining Order members are all one hundred percent up to their potential and ready for anything.”
Remus frowned; he had absolutely no idea where this was going, though he had a rather uneasy feeling it the pit of his stomach.
“I am, of course, referring to Nymphadora’s current inability to morph.”
Now Remus was really uncomfortable. Nymphadora Tonks was the last thing he expected McGonagall to want to talk to him about, and honestly, the last person he wanted to discuss; especially the subject of her morphing.
“I’m not entirely sure what it is you are getting at, Minerva. Though I would hope you know I’d do anything to see Tonks with pink hair again.”
“Anything except date her?” questioned McGonagall cuttingly. Remus physically winced as her lips pressed even tighter together.
“Alright. What is it that you wish me to do?” asked Remus wearily; oh how he was tired of people bringing him into question over his decision to push Tonks away.
“You will be aware, I’m sure, of the existence of items known as ‘Metamorph Medals?” asked McGonagall.
“Arthur confiscated a load of them a few months back. They purport to give the bearer Metamorphmagus powers, but they are actually hoax items. They are more like something that the Weasley Twins would market, rather than anything that could help Tonks.”
“I am not sure that Arthur would appreciate you casting such aspersions over his sons, but you are right; for the most part, Metamorph Medals are indeed joke objects.”
“What do you mean, ‘for the most part’?” asked Remus, his curiosity piqued.
“The hoaxers had to get their basic idea from somewhere. There is a legend that tells of a Metamorphmagus who was not born with the powers, but rather constructed a fully functioning Metamorph Medal. I want you to investigate the truth behind this ‘legend,’ as I believe it is the only way to help Nymphadora get her powers back”
Remus didn’t think that it was the only way that Tonks could get her powers back. He thought that growing up and realising that he was too old, too poor and too dangerous for her, that he wasn’t going to change his mind any time soon, and that she should get over him would also help, in the end. Not that he was going to say that aloud, to Minerva McGonagall.
Instead, “You want me to find this ‘Metamorph Medal’ so that Tonks can get her powers back?” is what actually came out of Remus’ mouth.
“Correct. Our most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had one or two books on the subject, as he was, come to think of it, disturbingly fascinated with Nymphadora’s condition. I suggest you start your search in his quarters.”
Remus was summarily dismissed from the Headmistress’s office, feeling once again all-too-like his fifteen year old self; inadequate for the task set him, berated for a choice he felt was right and others deemed wrong, and his skin crawling with the prospect of doing something that he did not particularly want to do. This ‘mission’ felt more like detention than something that could prove beneficial to the Order.
“I am a school prefect and as such I should enforce the rules, not break them.”
Soon enough, Remus found himself in Severus Snape’s abandoned quarters, searching for his collection of books on Metamorphmagi and Metamorph Medals. As McGonagall had said, there were a disturbingly large number of them. Therefore Remus, reasoning that Snape wasn’t going to need these books in the near future, and that he really didn’t want to stay in this room any longer than strictly necessary, he decided to take the books elsewhere to peruse. So, after gathering up the books that looked most promising he flooed to No.12 Grimmauld Place.
Several hours passed, and all Remus had to show for his efforts was a crick in his neck and a few uncomfortable insights into how it felt to be a Metamorphmagus.
“The Metamorphmagus is widely mistrusted for their ability to change their features at will. Many people fear that Metamorphmagi may use their powers for ill, taking on the forms of loved ones in order to manipulate people to their will…”
See Remus, she does understand how it feels to be an outcast, for a condition that is not your fault.
Remus shook away the unhelpful thought, tossed that book on to the discard pile, and pulled yet another tome towards him. This book was by a man called Elfric Umbridge, and was entitled ‘The Metamorphmagus Problem; Natural Ability or Clever Spellwork?”. Several minutes’ perusal revealed a passage that looked very promising;
“Records suggest the existence of a man in the early 18th Century who used a spelled amulet to change his appearance at will. Harold Fletcher, who had a falling out with the Gringott’s Goblins in 1706, reportedly left his charmed amulet buried in the garden of his family home in Godric’s Hollow. There have been many attempts to recover Fletcher’s amulet, however, no evidence has been found of its existence in the village. Some have speculated that the amulet was destroyed along with the house in a fire in 1892, and others still conjecture that it can only be found by a fellow shape-shifter…”
Remus sat back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. Godric’s Hollow. The last place in Britain he wanted to visit, but it was his only lead, and as much as he disliked it, it was a mission for the Order. A mission it was imperative he complete successfully. Minerva had been right; with the losses the Order had suffered the previous night they needed Tonks back to her full abilities; who knew what the future held for them, who knew how much they might need the Metamorphmagus?
Wearily, Remus glanced at the big grandfather clock in the library. Half past eleven. There was no sense in travelling to Godric’s Hollow tonight. Best leave it ‘til morning, when he would hopefully be a little fresher, and ready to deal with the emotional weight of returning to Godric’s Hollow for the first time in nearly sixteen years. If only Remus could guarantee that he would sleep, and sleep soundly, undisturbed by his usual nightmares, dreams of the events of barely twenty-four hours ago, and tortuous dreams of a certain Nymphadora Tonks. He sighed heavily, and dragged himself off to bed.
============================================================================================
Lightening split the sky over Godric’s Hollow, and the rain lashed down from clouds that were very nearly black, turning the sky almost as dark as night. Remus Lupin pulled his cloak tighter about him, but to no avail; he was already soaked to the bone, and his threadbare cloak was doing little to keep out the unseasonably chilly wind. Remus thought the weather created a very fitting atmosphere for his return to the village. For this was the first time he’d visited since their funeral, since he watched James and Lily Potter lowered into the Earth. Desperately he shook away macabre thoughts of the past and focussed on his mission. But still Remus could not push away the cold feeling of loneliness that had lived in the pit of his stomach for almost as long as he could remember.
“Even you don’t deserve to be lonely forever, Remus.”
Remus was almost certain he could hear the words spoken by an all-too-familiar voice in his ear. But he knew it was just the effects of having not slept properly in weeks, so shaking his head to clear his thoughts Remus trudged off down the village towards the ruins of the old Fletcher house.
As he approached the building, Remus peered through the gloom and the sheeting rain; there sat figure in the ruins, as if waiting for him to arrive. Slowly and cautiously, Remus drew his wand and stalked closer. A few metres away, the identity of the lingering figure became apparent to him.
“You!” cried Remus, anger and hatred boiling up inside him.
“I wondered when you might get here,” answered the familiar sneering tones of one Severus Snape.
“I walked right in to your little trap then!” spat Remus, furious at his own folly. His wand was raised now, but his arm was visibly trembling with anger.
“Don’t flatter yourself!” snapped Snape. “I most certainly would not go out of my way to plan anything this elaborate, if I did indeed wish to eradicate you I would not go to nearly as much effort as this, believe me. Lower your wand, Lupin; I am no threat to you.”
“You are a fool if you think I am going to trust you, turncoat,” said Remus icily, wand arm never moving. “There is a reward for your capture, you know. I should bring you in; they might even give me an Order of Merlin for capturing Albus Dumbledore’s murderer.”
A strange look passed over Snape’s face then; for a moment it almost looked like the man was in pain. But as soon as it had appeared the look had vanished, replaced by the characteristic sneer.
“As you wish, Lupin, but I do believe I have something that you need.”
“The Metamorph Medal?” asked Lupin. Snape laughed.
“I would have thought that a man of your intelligence would have figured it out by now. There is no such thing.” Remus’ inability to hide his confusion elicited another cold laugh from Snape. He reached inside his robes, causing Remus to tighten his grip on his wand, but Snape merely pulled out a piece of parchment.
“This is what you were really sent to retrieve, Lupin,” drawled Snape.
“What is it?” asked Remus, still not trusting the man enough to lower his wand.
“A contingency plan, left by the leader of the Order of the Phoenix in the event of his unexpected death,” said Snape, through gritted teeth, as though the words were costing him dearly.
“How do I know that I can trust anything that you give me, or anything that you have said so far for that matter?”
“You don’t,” replied the other man, “You only need to believe in Dumbledore, and believe that he was correct when he told you I was indeed trustworthy.”
Remus lunged forward, pressing his wand tip against Snape’s cheek. Small sparks escaped the end, gently singeing sallow skin.
“How dare you say his name you traitorous worm!” spat Remus. “How can you speak his name after what you did you murderous bastard?”
Snape locked burning dark eyes onto Remus’, his face contorted in some kind of pain. When Snape next spoke, his tone was calm and measured, but his voice was strained and laced with a profound pain that not even he- talented Occlumens and brilliant double-agent that he was- could hide.
“I am playing my part, Lupin, and all that is asked of you is that you play your part too. Take the parchment, and stop running from your responsibilities. And Dumbledore didn’t just mean the responsibilities that you will have as Leader of the Order.”
“Leader of the-”
But that was as far as Remus got because Snape thrust the parchment at him and as soon as the paper touched his skin he felt the familiar sensation of a hook behind his navel, and Snape disappeared from view.
=============================================================================================
Remus felt his feet hit the ground just outside the Hogwarts Headmistress' office, clutching a piece of rolled up parchment and looking down his wand at the familiar face of Nymphadora Tonks, who looked vaguely baffled that he had just bellowed the word “Order” at her.
“Remus! What in the name of Merlin’s Knickers?”
He simply stood there, dripping wet and panting heavily, thoughts running ten to the dozen inside his head as he attempted to process what just happened. Tonks took out her own wand and performed a drying charm on his clothes and hair as she waited for Remus to answer her. She is used to waiting for Remus; he’s made her wait for a lot of things, so waiting for him to decide to speak is nothing. Eventually Remus gets his breathing and his thoughts in control, and for the first time he seems to register Tonks’ presence.
“Nymphadora-?” a wand is in his face.
“It’s Tonks!” growls the mousy haired Auror.
“Tonks,” Remus concedes. “What are you doing here?”
“Talk to McGonagall about the other night,” shrugged Tonks. Why are you wet?”
“Was raining,” answered Remus cryptically. “Listen, I’ve got some business to tie up with Minerva, but when I’ve finished would you like to go get a coffee with me, or something? We really need to talk.”
Tonks’ face lit up.
“Yeah, I’d like that. Did you find it then, the Metamorph Medal?” Remus shook his head sadly.
“It would seem that the only Metamorph Medals in existence are the hoax items. I’m sorry, Tonks.”
Tonks nodded sadly and gestured for Remus to sort out his business with McGonagall first.
Half an hour later it had been firmly established that that parchment Snape had provided was genuinely from Dumbledore, and that Remus was indeed the new leader of the Order of the Phoenix.
It was then that the conversation, debriefing, turned to the mission regarding the Metamorph Medal, and that was when it all turned nasty. Minerva acerbically pointed out that since Remus was now in charge of the Order, it was down to him to boost moral of the members and ensure that they were all ready for whatever the Death Eaters might throw at them, especially in the light of his most recent failed mission. Remus had snapped then; he was exhausted and had so many emotions running around inside him that anger was the easiest one to express. He told Minerva that his personal life was none of hers, or anyone else’s, business. To which Minerva replied that “it was if your bad judgement with your personal life affects the smooth running of the Order.” By this point Remus was far too angry to take note of what she had said- was it really bad judgment that he was trying to save Tonks by pushing her away?- and, to save face, he simply walked out.
Tonks realised he was in a foul mood as he stormed out of McGonagall’s office, but she followed him anyway; it had been months since he had willingly agreed to talk with her, and she wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.
Remus seethed up right up until the first drop of hot coffee slid down his throat, and then he allowed himself to calm down. Tonks was sat across the table from him in the muggle café, looking expectantly at him, waiting for him to make the first move. Remus ran his hands wearily over his face, and took a deep breath.
“Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be worth giving in to you just to get everyone else off my back,” said Remus with a small huff of laughter.
“What?” snapped Tonks angrily. “That’s nice Remus; you’ll never consider being with me because I love you, but you’ll contemplate it just so that you can have an easier life. Thanks for clearing that up for me, Remus, I don’t know why I ever bothered with you in the first place!”
Tonks made to get up, but Remus reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Don’t go Tonks, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” there was a new edge to his voice as he spoke. It almost sounded like vulnerability almost like he was pleading with her for once. Tonks’ countenance softened; she was tired of fighting too.
“Alright, I’ll hear you out, Lupin.”
Remus took a few more sips of his drink before continuing.
“I hope you realise that, no matter what might happen, I will always be too old, too poor and too dangerous for you.” Tonks started, but Remus held up his hand. “I know you say you don’t care about that, and maybe you should.
“I’m responsible for the Order now, and Minerva thinks that means I’m responsible for morale and welfare, specifically your morale and welfare. That’s what I meant about getting everybody off my back. For the past year I’ve had half the Order trying to convince me that I’m an idiot for pushing you away, and I just wish they’d let me make my own choice on the matter.”
“Just like I wish you had let me make my own decision on the matter,” Tonks pointed out.
“Had?” asked Remus, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“I’m tired, Remus,” said Tonks, placing her arms on the table and resting her head on them. “I’m tired of fighting you; of fighting with for something I’m not certain you’ll ever be willing to give me. And I certainly don’t want you to give a relationship a shot, only to decide six months down the line that it was a mistake to let me in. I just can’t stand this any more.”
“The reason I have spent so long pushing you away is because I know that once I’ve had a taste of you, I won’t be able to let you go, and I don’t want that for you. You deserve more than to be tied down to a poor, middle-aged werewolf.”
“I don’t know if I’ve got it in me any more to take a chance on you, Remus. I still had hope, until the other night in the Hospital Wing, when you crushed me in front of half the Order, the kids…”
In that moment, just as everything had been snatched away from him, Remus knew what a fool he had been. He had not been acting in Tonks’ best interests to pull away from her; he had been acting selfishly to protect his own fragile heart, and in the process he had destroyed her. He had taken away her youth and vivacity when he had thought he was preserving it. And now, as he realised his stupidity, Tonks had given up on him, and he felt empty inside.
Merlin, what have I done?
“I… I want to be everything you need, everything you deserve. I want to give you hope for a brighter future. Merlin knows I would do anything, anything to make you pink again.”
Tonks looked dubiously at his from the pillow of her arms.
“Don’t make me beg, Nymphadora. As undignified as grovelling at your feet might be, I’ll do it; I’ll plead and beg and grovel for just one of those many chances that I’ve thrown away.”
“Don’t call me Nymphadora,” said Tonks. But Remus caught the smile in her voice and knew that she hadn’t quite given up on him yet. “You deserve to be made to grovel, after the hell you’ve put me through.”
Dutifully, Remus slid out of his chair and to his knees before her. Tonks sat up straight and he took her hands in his, ignoring the funny looks they were getting from passing muggles.
“I have been the world’s biggest fool, and if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making that up to you. And know I don’t deserve it, but can you ever forgive me for being a noble prat?”
“I suppose…” said Tonks, badly feigning nonchalance. Remus broke out in a wide grin, his first proper smiled since Sirius died. Rising up on his knees he pressed his lips to hers, and the whole café broke in to rapturous applause, obviously assuming that he had just proposed.
Tonks blushed, and Remus noticed that as the pink crept up her face it carried on going and stained the roots of her hair as well. Thinking quickly, Remus stood up and pulled the hood of Tonks’ cloak over her head, both preventing them from having to perform any memory charms and affording them some measure of privacy.
“I told you I’d do anything to make you pink again,” Remus whispered into Tonks’ ear.
“Anything except date me?” asked Tonks with a quirked eyebrow, and sounding far too much like McGonagall for Remus’ liking.
“Does kissing you in public count?”
Tonks nodded, blushing furiously and letting her hair return to its trademark bubblegum pink, before morphing it short and spiked once more.
“I think Dumbledore would be glad to see you wearing that colour again; I know I certainly am,” he whispered softly.
“Anything else to add, Mr Order Leader?” asked Tonks, the mischievous sparkle back in her eyes again.
Remus shook his head, and for once, did the sensible thing and lowered his mouth to hers for another kiss.