Serpents, Chapter Three

[mrstater]

Title: Serpents (3/?)
Author: MrsTater
Rating & Warnings: R for sexuality
Prompts: weakness; "In the light of Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."
Word Count: 10,190 words
Summary: Two years into a relationship with Remus, and the correct way to deal with full moons continues to elude Tonks, dredging up her insecurities and memories of painful past failures. Voldemort's attack on a fellow Order member puts everything into perspective for her...But will Remus see the light?
Author’s Notes: A leap into the future in the Caring For Magical Creatures universe, which I think should stand alone even if you've not read that fic, though the background might make more sense as it's POA-era R/T romance. I cannot thank Godricgal enough for being the bestest beta ever, even though she's been feeling poorly.

Prologue: Judgment Day | 1. Vicious Cycle | 2. Up From the Grave |

3. Between the Woman and the Serpent

"--and I think a dozen mince pies along with the Christmas cakes and the pudding will do for all those hungry boys, but is there something in particular Remus likes? He's got a bit of a sweet tooth, hasn't he, Tonks?"

At her name, (or was it at Remus' name?) Tonks, who had been too immersed in taking in the details of the Weasley house on this, her first visit to the Burrow, to more than half-listen -- if even half -- to Molly's chatter, snapped upright in her straight-backed chair, smacking her knees on the underside of the solid oak table as she uncurled them from beneath her in her seat.

Don't you dare swear, Tonks, she commanded herself, clenching her teeth to bite back the bloody buggering hell that was on the tip of her tongue and which she was pretty sure Molly would consider a choice word -- as in, the wrong choice. This is your chance to show her that even though her teenaged daughter thinks you're cool for wearing tatty clothes and punk hair and having got all the Weird Sisters' autographs, you're an adult role model, her equal...

...and good enough for Remus.

Cos you are good enough for him.

And she can't help but see it.

Even if it is a bit of an odd coincidence that Hestia had just dropped into Grimmauld when Molly Flooed to invite you over for a cuppa. With a home-cooked meal for Remus and Sirius, who'd already eaten the takeaway you brought them at bloody dinnertime.

But, bending to slide a tray of biscuits out of the oven, Molly merely smiled over her shoulder at her. Not the stiff, polite smile Tonks had come to expect from Mrs. Weasley, either -- but the same motherly one, which made her brown eyes so warm, as she gave Remus.

"Just chatter about Christmas dinner, don't mind me," said Molly. Still smiling, her forehead, red and moist with sweat, crinkled as beneath her fiery fringe her eyebrows knit together. "Did you hurt your knees? Only I've a whole cupboard full of bruise-healing paste, thanks to five boys who are mad about Quidditch.."

Tonks shook her head, speechless with surprise. Forgiveness and concern -- from Molly Weasley.

"Thanks, but I'm okay," she managed after staring stupidly for a full minute -- not that any of the Burrow's wonderful clocks had supplied that information. Feeling it couldn't hurt to apologise anyway, or butter Molly up with a compliment, she went on. "Sorry I tuned out, though. I was just..."

Her gaze swept the kitchen again. Though technically the space could only be described as cramped, Tonks felt cosy rather than claustrophobic. Perhaps the clutter lent a sense of being in her own element, but somehow it was more than that. It was more like a sense of feeling at home in her family's house. Which was very strange, as she'd always felt rather like a mermaid out of water in her mother's kitchen, where every work surface was spic and span, but the memories of cooking lessons-turned-quarrels and absurd expectations that gave way to spectacular failures lingered and made the air in the room thick and suffocating. Here there was only the warmth of an oven which, if the mouth-watering aromas of bread and cakes and Sunday roasts spoke truly, never stopped baking. Molly might shout in frustration from time to time, but the spirits that dwelt in this kitchen were the ones borne of the laughter of seven children who feasted on love.

Too bad tone of them's an ungrateful little cretin who'd rather line his pockets with Ministry lies. A right little Scrooge that one. Hopefully, for Molly's sake, he'll get a visit from the Ghosts of Christmases Past, Present and Future, and have a change of heart.

"It's easy to get distracted here," Tonks said, struggling not to let her voice reveal what she was thinking, that the next time she saw Percy at the Ministry she'd be hard-pressed not to take him by the robes and shake him. "Your house is just so interesting."

Oh bugger. Oh bloody buggering hell. You did not just tell Molly her house was interesting. That's what you say when you want to say something's horrible!

At least you can thank Merlin she hadn't served you tea yet, and you didn't have anything to spill like you always seem to do when you open mouth, insert both feet, and your hands, as well.

"Molly..." Her voice came out a pathetic whimper; the table seemed enormous as she felt herself sliding down in her seat, her posture one that would have made her mother's face go livid as Walburga Black's portrait, and possibly use a few -- albeit in a low, calm tone, though one that managed to be a good deal more frightening than the shrieking. "That came out all..."

Wrong.

She'd been wrong again about Molly, who was giving her a smile -- a real one; Tonks kept repeating it because she could hardly believe it -- of understanding.

And she was levitating the tea things and a tray of biscuits and cheese to the table right in front of her.

"From a girl who likes pink and purple and polka-dotted hair," said Molly, looking at Tonks with twinkling and teasing eyes as she took the seat at the foot of the table, next to her, "I'll take interesting as a very high compliment."

"You know, I never tried polka-dot hair before."

Tonks scrunched up her nose, pictured pink with purple dots, felt the familiar tingling sensation in her scalp as her short, spiky locks lengthened to a sleek, chin-length bob, and watched Molly's face light up.

"I can't say it suits you, exactly," she said, pouring a cup of tea for Tonks, "but it's very impressive."

"Thanks," said Tonks, hoping Molly realised she meant for the tea as well as the compliment. She morphed again, removing the purple, but keeping the coif. That cow Hestia'll see who turns Remus' head when you go back to Headquarters. "You know Remus fancies the pink."

She hadn't really meant to say it, and the instant she realised she had, her face matched the shade.

Please, Merlin, please, please, please don't let her ask why Remus likes you pink...

"That reminds me..." Molly sipped her tea, then set her mug down abruptly as she turned in her chair so she could look through the living room doorway. "I've been putting off starting Remus' Christmas jumper..."

Tonks craned her neck to peer into the other room as Molly Summoned a skein of yarn from a basket beside an armchair.

Any chance, nice as Molly's being to you tonight, that she'll knit you a jumper for Christmas? Only that might be a totally idiotic thing to wish for, cos she could use it to pay you back for calling her décor 'interesting'...

"I thought blue would do nicely for him," Molly said, handing the yarn over to Tonks. "All his clothes seem to be brown or grey. I won't do his initial on the front, because that might be a bit much to push on him, if I'm giving him a spot of colour, too...Though I suppose if he's really feeling adventurous he could swap with Ron for the maroon one with an R in gold."

"He'll love the blue," Tonks told her, running her fingers over the soft wool thread that was so much nicer than the few course old jumpers Remus owned. Molly might do you a grey or brown jumper to encourage you not to do such daft things to your hair. "If only cos I'll say I love it and think it brings out the colour of his eyes."

"Yes, I had thought of his lovely blue eyes," Molly said, blotchy red and pink tingeing her plump cheeks as she abruptly rose and snatched the yarn back from Tonks. She turned sharply on her heel and bustled into the living room to restore her knitting basket back to order. For the first time, instead of assuming the worst, that she'd offended Mrs. Weasley, Tonks choked back a laugh at Molly's embarrassment. Apparently she had the teeniest bit of a crush on Remus.

Funny how it bothers you about Hestia fancying him, but not Molly.

But Hestia wasn't a married woman with seven children. Remus had let Molly cry all over him, and his eyes were, indeed, very lovely. Had Molly noticed how long his pale gold lashes were?

Oh God -- how could Tonks not laugh at the hilarious image of Molly standing in the knitting supplies aisle at Witch Crafts, scanning the blue shades of yarn for the perfect match to Remus' eyes?

Even you wouldn't go to that much trouble for him.

Pressing her lips together so tightly that her teeth dug into them, Tonks somehow managed not to laugh, and even managed to completely squash the urge by the time Molly turned around again. Which was a good job since, as Molly resumed her seat at the table and took a long drink of tea, her expression had become very serious. Nervous, too, given the way her teacup rattled on its saucer as she set it down.

Probably she's afraid of being hexed to oblivion by a psycho-bitch Auror when she tells you she thinks Remus could do so much better than you and that as you're speaking, Hestia's at Grimmauld showing Remus what he's missing out on in the domestic department.

Silly, really.

It's Hestia who Molly ought to be worried about getting hexed to oblivion by a psycho-bitch Auror.

But when Molly turned her brown eyes, wide with guilt, up to Tonks, what she said was: "I know you're wondering why I asked you here tonight when I've hardly given you the time of day since we met last June."

"Oh no," Tonks interrupted, thinking she might help herself by absolving Molly of her guilt issues. "I--"

"I'm sorry for that," Molly went on, over her, "It's just shameful, really, that I didn't take the time to make friends when we were staying at Grimmauld."

"There wasn't much time to be had."

"No, but I could have made time. I normally do, but..." Her gaze dropped, and when she spoke again, her words were half-swallowed, lodged in the back of her throat. "I'm afraid I made up my mind about you right from the off, without getting to really know you."

A lump was forming in Tonks' throat, but she still made herself joke, even though her voice came out pinched and horse. "S'okay. I am a dismal failure at all things householdy, and dead clumsy, too."

"It wasn't that," said Molly. "I mean, it was, partly. I took it to mean you were flighty and careless in general."

"My own mum calls me flighty and careless." And a few other, worse, things. "Really," she said, too forcefully as she spoke over her inner voice. "It's really okay. Nothing I’m not used to."

"You're not those things, though," Molly insisted. "At least in places other than the kitchen. I should have tried harder to see that, especially since there was no mistaking the look in your eyes the other week, at Remus' house. And he's always been so obviously in love with you, too."

Halfway to her mouth with a bit of cheese, Tonks' jaw and her fingers went slack, and the cheese dropped onto the floor. She didn't -- couldn't, it was as if she was bloody Stunned -- pick it up. Remus was obviously...?

"And for Merlin's sake," Molly continued, shaking her head, "your job should have spoken to me of how much depth and strength of character you've got. Remus even said as much to me one night when you'd been over and I was exasperated about something or other you'd said or done. I don't even remember now."

Her words trailed away into a heavy sigh, and the Burrow fell silent except for the odd squeaks and creaks of the ramshackle house bracing against the wind that whipped around its crooked angles. Molly sipped her tea, and Tonks sat slumped in her chair, watching her fingers pick at the edge of the chequered tablecloth.

She could see the whole scenario playing out so clearly in her mind's eye: herself, offering to help in the kitchen but being shooed away by a wary Molly, only to fall under Mrs. Weasley's disapproving eye as she listened to the schemes the twins were plotting for the new term, or boasting to the kids about her own school day hi-jinks, or morphing Ginny's face with a high-style hairdo to help the teenager figure out a new, mature look. There was nothing Tonks could do, it seemed, except morph a daft nose or something to try and cheer poor Harry up, that Molly approved of. And Remus just sat by quietly, trying not to look as if he thought more of her than he did any other woman in the Order, occasionally frowning at Molly as he brooded about how to defend his secret girlfriend's character whilst maintaining their cover.

A small part of her went a bit mushy inside at the chivalry of it; she loved that Remus cared about her reputation and wanted everyone to think as well of her as he did. The other, bigger, part of her, which apparently was centred in the pit of her stomach, tied itself into a hard, tight knot much like the one her fingers were making of the corner of the tablecloth. She hated that she hadn't managed to rise above the gossip and rumours about her relationship with Remus and prove to the Order that she really was cut from Hufflepuff cloth and respected Remus as much as any of them.

And you hate that Remus thinks you need his help coming into your own in the Order.

"I should have taken what he said to heart," Molly said. "He's a very clever man. But when I make up my mind about people, it stays made up, no matter what clever people try to talk me around. I'm not proud of it," she added with a sigh, "but unfortunately that's how I am sometimes, and..." She gazed into her teacup as though looking to read an answer in the leaves. "I admit that at the time, I thought Remus speaking highly of you said more about him than it did about you."

Releasing the tablecloth, not caring that she'd left greasy fingerprints on it, Tonks sat up and levelled Molly with her gaze. "Why? Cos you read all that shi--" she caught herself in the nick of time "--crap the about me in the Daily Prophet gossip columns after Remus resigned from Hogwarts? Cos Remus saying nice things about that girl makes him Saint Lupin the Incomparably Charitable?"

Molly's face matched her hair, and she wore an open-mouthed expression that looked as if the force of Tonks' words had knocked the wind out of her. In fact, Tonks herself was rather breathless from the explosion of accusations. Her chest felt tight, as though more of the same line were battling to get out, but she sat silent, chest heaving.

You need to lay off. Molly invited you over here to bloody apologise for misjudging you. Do you expect her to follow through with that, after you've thrown it all back in her face? It's you you're mainly pissed off at, not Molly, not even Hestia or anyone else in the Order. Just you and your snap judgments that got you into this mess in the first place. You made this bed, and you've lain in it for eighteen months. It won't kill you to lie in it a bit longer. The least you can do, really...

But it was hard -- so very, very hard -- to do that after all this time. Though Molly hadn't yet got around to what was, presumably, the object of this conversation, how her opinion had changed, Tonks felt the walls of her resolve to bear up under whatever criticism came her way for the sake of protecting her precious relationship, crumble.

In eighteen months, the sting from the more horrible of the editorials had never lessened; she would never forget how those days leading up to her Auror qualification, which should have been so joyous, had been marred not only by the absence of the man she loved, but by utter strangers who felt compelled to "...inquire as to whether the Ministry of Magic had plans to lower Auror training admission standards to include OWL-level students, as they demonstrated the ability to identify a werewolf, whilst those currently enrolled in the programme had failed to do so after spending the better part of a year face-to-face with one" and to "...express waning confidence in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for even considering the appointment of a Dark Wizard Chaser who not only is a known shape-shifter and relative to a notorious family of Death Eaters, but who fraternises with the most deadly and disgusting of Dark Creatures."

She had to release what had eaten at her since then but, probably luckily for Tonks and her tendency to blurt out things she later regretted, Molly found her voice first.

"For what it's worth," she said, "When those stories were published, I didn't blame you one bit for ending it with Remus. I was horrified to learn one of those..." Her face reddened, along with her lower lip as she caught it between her teeth and bit hard. "...Well, I'll just say it, one of those horrible creatures, had been so near my children all year, and I couldn't stop thinking that your poor parents must be furious with him for taking you in. I told Arthur if it had happened to my only daughter, I'd be calling for the Werewolf Capture Unit to go after that...that..."

Apparently Molly didn't have it in her, after all, to speak of Remus as she'd once thought of him. Tonks understood how she felt. There was no comfort for her to take from hearing that Molly hadn't always thought her in the wrong, not when it threw Remus into that horrible, unjust, untrue light. The worst feeling she'd dealt with in all the time they had been secretly together was that she hated herself for willingly leading the whole of Wizarding society -- even your own parents, for bloody Merlin's sake -- to believe that she had been as repulsed by her romantic partner's true identity as everyone else; that she had not been party to his no doubt sinister designs on Hogwarts; that she rejected him and the months spent with him as fully as she embraced the career and the three years she'd given to training for it...

"Let me guess," Tonks said, wondering how her voice could sound so small and sad even as she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You met Remus, realised he was a wonderful, lovely man, and asked yourself how on earth any woman could break up with him, even if he did get a little hairy and howly once a month."

"Oh yes," said Molly. "It helped that all the children were upset about him leaving school. They said he was the best Defence professor they'd ever had. Dear Ronnie -- I overheard him put his foot down with Ginny and the twins that the first letter Pigwigeon should deliver had to be to Professor Lupin, saying they were sorry he wouldn't be back and hoped he found another job soon. And something about feeling guilty for something he'd said to Remus when he found out about..."

Tonks waited for a moment for Molly to finish the thought, but when there was no indication she would, filled in, "The werewolf thing."

Molly nodded.

"Remus showed me that letter," Tonks said. It made his month."

"He said such lovely things about the children, the night Dumbledore brought him here to introduce us before the first official Order meeting. He even seemed to think the twins were wonderful students. I knew he wasn't telling the truth, but I appreciated it all the same."

"Fred and George are rather brilliant in their own way," Tonks said. "Remus has a soft spot for trouble-makers."

Looking askance, Molly shook her head and poured herself another cup of tea. "I'm afraid I'm getting a little off-track. What I want to say is: it was wrong of me to judge you, and I hope you can forgive me."

Tonks smiled, and felt tears prick at her eyes. Forgiveness. Her gaze automatically flicked downward to the charm bracelet on her wrist, to the milky pink opal-encrusted Gebo, rune of forgiveness and love. It still hurt to know that Molly -- and so many others -- had assumed so much about her; but she readily gave what Molly asked for, which had first been given so freely to her.

Maybe there's a chance she'll see Remus isn't so incomparable, after all -- or at least that you share one of his wonderful qualities.

Along with a certain disregard for rules, a rather brilliant mind for pranks, a disinclination to keep a tidy house, an unhealthy love of chocolate, and a penchant for baggy, broken-in clothes.

When Molly, looking relieved, settled comfortably back in her chair, Tonks expected that the conversation would take a turn for the light. Maybe more about Christmas at the Burrow, and householdy preparations, which Tonks would do her best to appear interested in and knowledgeable about.

What Molly said was: "Wonderful man though he is, it can't be easy, can it?"

Startled by the unexpected question, and a bit baffled as to what Molly meant, Tonks shook her head vaguely.

Molly heaved a sigh, presumably of sympathy, given her headshake.

"It's not as simple as him turning into a wolf one night a month and having to be locked up, is it? Merlin knows illness and unemployment alone take a painful toll on every couple, and the pair of you had both to contend with when you were together. Not to mention what people think of werewolves, and those discriminatory laws..."

It was exactly what Tonks was up against, but while it was good to know other people acknowledged the complexities of their relationship, she wondered what Molly was getting at. She and Remus were perfectly aware of the obstacles they were up against, and did their best not to dwell on them.

"I think I felt like I could judge you," Molly went on, "because I chose to be with a poor man a lot of my family and friends didn't approve of."

Tonks' mouth opened in protest, but before she could get a word out, Molly said quickly, "I know it's not exactly the same, or right, but that's how I justified it. I also forgot how young you were when the truth about Remus came to light. How could I blame you for not being up to the enormous task of a relationship with him?

"But I was up to it!" Tonks blurted and, realising Molly had only figured out that she and Remus were still in love with each other, but not that they were still together, added, "I am up to it! I didn't break up with him because he was a werewolf. I knew from the beginning that he was."

Now it was Molly dropping her food; only she wasn't so astonished that she was paralysed into leaving it there. She managed to keep on gawping at Tonks as she bent to pick up the biscuit. "You mean it was all show, so you could make the Auror squad?"

Tonks bristled. Technically, yes, it was; but she didn't want to hear it put that way. First of all, Remus had been as in favour of secrecy as she. Second, what other choice did she have? Being an Auror was her life's dream. With Sirius Black at large and innocent, and the guilty Peter Pettigrew alive and on the run as well, up to Merlin knew what, and Remus and Dumbledore convinced that whisperings of great evil had been heard abroad, it seemed imperative that she join the Auror force and seek real justice and protect the Wizarding world from real danger. It was unfortunate how it affected Remus, and it wasn't that she didn't fear that some part of him might believe she was ashamed of him...But they both believed, with their whole hearts, in a greater good than themselves. Surely as a member of the Order of the Phoenix herself, Molly could understand sacrifice?

"I did break up with him for a few days," Tonks admitted, "but it was about something else he'd kept from me, not the werewolf thing. Except for that, we've been together this whole time. It didn't seem important for the Order to know...We've all too many secrets to keep already without people having to trouble themselves with not letting it slip that Remus and Tonks are shagging..."

Over brown eyes that had swelled to the size of saucers, Molly's eyebrows disappeared into her fringe.

Oh bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger. You've done it now, Tonks. She'll never forgive you for talking about going to bed with Remus the wonderful and lovely and incomparably charitable in that crass way--

Her self-recriminating thoughts ceased as she realised that the look on Molly's face wasn't scandalised.

"You knew all along," she whispered, sounding almost...Dare Tonks say awe-struck? "And you went out with him anyway."

Apart from the unflagging confidence Remus had always had that she would qualify as an Auror, Tonks had never had such a sense of another person being impressed by her. Not her ability to change her face and body. Just her.

"I knew what I was getting into," she said. "I made a choice."

"It can't have been easy."

Tonks gave a snort of laughter. In some ways it had been ridiculously easy. The amount of time she'd spent mulling over it, anyway, certainly didn't indicate it had been a particularly troubling decision. Though in reality, she couldn't remember a sleepless night being such an agony as the one that followed seeing Remus in a werewolf's form for the first time, nor a day she'd been worse in Stealth and Tracking, excepting, of course, her final exam.

"Well, I was pretty taken with him," she joked, and thankfully Molly laughed with her.

But they eventually fell silent, and Molly's brows remained slightly raised. Clearly, she wanted a straight answer to the question.

"You won't think I'm shallow and don't deserve him if I admit I had to think about it?"

The warmth in Molly's eyes touched Tonks to her core, and she felt a swell of affection for her at being given one of those truly motherly smiles she'd seen Molly give her children, and Harry, and even, on occasion, Remus.

How long's it been since someone looked at you like that? You don't even remember the last time you had a heart-to-heart with your own mum. Certainly not about this great mess with Remus.

The pang of sadness in the thought was driven away by Molly's fingers brushing a strand of purple hair back from her face.

"It speaks very highly of you that you did think through it, and made a choice. That's what love is. A choice, every day, to be with someone and make it work, no matter what might try to stand in your way."

An aching grin split across Tonks' face.

Of course she's paying you a lovely compliment like that, now she knows the truth about you and Remus. You're so right for each other, and you've been through more with him in two years than some couples go through in a lifetime, just like she said. Why wouldn't she be impressed?

You're in very good company, talking about love with Molly Weasley. She knows what she's talking about.

"Now," said Molly, withdrawing her hand from Tonks' cheek as she stood. She took out her wand and with one sweeping gesture, sent the tea things to the sink. "Will you think I'm an old busybody housewitch if I ask what made you choose him?"

"Ah, Nymphadora." Professor Dumbledore's greeting, in duet with the creak of his chair as he rose from his desk, filled her ears before she'd set foot in his office. "How good of you take a few moments out of your no doubt very full training schedule to drop in for a chat. Please."

His bright blue eyes twinkled kindly over his half-moon spectacles as he gestured for her to take a seat across from his expansive desk.

Tonks remained rooted to the floor in the doorway, rather wrong-footed by his genuine cordiality. It had been this way each time Professor Sprout had found her rule-breaking beyond Head of House's jurisdiction, and Tonks had found herself quaking before a Headmaster with an unnerving way of remaining as calm and kind and even quirky as ever whilst delivering behavioural lectures she would never forget; somehow she never quite realised he was doling out detentions and depriving her of House Points, as well. Now, though, she was not a student, and Dumbledore had more reason than ever not to be cordial to her. For all intents and purposes, she'd as good as trespassed on school grounds last night.

Of course, what she'd learnt during that little visit indicated that Dumbledore himself wasn't operating his school entirely within the circumference of the law.

She stepped into the circular tower office, stumbling a little over an ornate Persian rug (an illegal flying carpet?) and practically falling into the offered chair.

"Was that your Patronus that summoned me?" she asked.

Dumbledore smiled as he resumed his seat behind the desk. "It was."

"I never knew they could be charmed to deliver messages."

"It's always nice to find multiple uses for a thing, don't you think? Especially when the primary one is to deal with something as unpleasant as Dementors."

"Quite," Tonks replied, thinking that there hadn't been anything particularly pleasant about the way her stomach had felt at a silvery Phoenix opening his beak and Dumbledore's sage tones crackling out:

"My groundskeeper informs me that you came to the school to pay me a visit last night. Unfortunately I was engaged at the Hog's Head resolving a pesky family situation. I am terribly sorry to have missed you, particularly as it has been my intent to speak with you regarding the services you rendered Mr. Hagrid concerning the flock of stolen Snidgets. Please come by my office at your earliest convenience. I shall look forward to being surprised -- pleasantly so, of course, as always -- by your remarkable talent for creating unique coifs."

It would've been a really wonderful invitation, had she not been up the whole night before, trying to talk herself out of niggling guilt which, when she got up, had settled in as nausea. Really, she shouldn't have been surprised by his welcoming demeanour, after a summons like that. What had she expected? For Dumbledore to lure her in with proper invitation (if Patronuses counted, and she doubted her mother would say they did) and then do an about face and feed her to the Giant Squid?

Steepling his long fingers together on his desk, Dumbledore said, "Although my Patronus messenger has already conveyed my regrets at having missed you last night, I would like to express them again, in person."

Tonks shuffled her feet under her chair. "Thank you, Sir."

"I would like to commend you again for your truly remarkable sleuthing, which spared Rubeus so much additional unnecessary legal entanglement."

"Thank you, Sir," Tonks repeated, resisting the urge to, with less cordiality than he was showing her, ask Dumbledore whether he really considered Hippogriffs biting students as the sort of thing that resulted in unnecessary legal entanglement and, if so, whether that same blasé attitude accompanied his stance on werewolves living on school grounds.

"And I trust all goes well with your Auror training? It's your third year in the programme, I think?"

"Pretty well, thanks -- except for Stealth and Tracking. I'm clumsy as ever."

"But even more charming, which always more than made up for any lack of grace. As does your violet and yellow coif, which brings to mind a species of nymphaea caerulea I once had the pleasure of seeing on holiday to Egypt."

"Really?" Tonks asked, reaching up to touch her spiky hairdo. "Only it was a bit of an experiment, and I was afraid it made me look peaky--"

She stopped short, facing going red in the face even though Dumbledore was watching her with a look that if she didn't know better, she would have called delighted; there was something familiar about it, as well. Both were ridiculous. That was just Dumbledore's look of amused tolerance. It was familiar because she'd seen it every time she'd been sent here as a kid, just before she found herself strapped with a lifetime ban on Hogsmeade visits and the month's worth of detentions that were responsible for her never having cultivated much interest in Quidditch.

"I hope your family thing's all sorted?" she blurted; apparently, at the height of embarrassment, her mother's etiquette training, as deeply engrained in her as she wished Stealth to be, kicked in.

Dumbledore's cheek twitched beneath his beard, and was that Tonks' imagination, or had he just...rolled his eyes?

Who were Dumbledore's family, anyway? She'd never heard of anyone being related to him; nor had he ever struck her as the sort of person who came from any where or from any one.

"I appreciate your concern, Nymphadora," he replied in a tone that made her write off the eye-roll as the invention of a brain that had got no sleep after making a very distressing discovery. "The family member concerned is an odd sort -- and I shall leave it at that, as I am certain you have little time to spare today. And I hope you will understand that it is with utmost concern that you not lose your entire lunch hour to me that I come right out and ask: What was it you wish to speak with me about?"

"Well, I..." Her feet shuffled in earnest, and her robes now sported two sweaty, wrinkled splotches where she was twisting them in her hands. "Hagrid didn't get it quite right. It was actually Re -- Lupin -- I came to see."

Beneath his silver mustache, Dumbledore's lip turned up at the corner. "Ah. In retrospect, Remus does seem a far more likely and interesting member of my staff for such a lovely young lady as yourself to go so far out of her way to see. His office, I believe, is never less than fully stocked with a case of Honeyduke's Best Chocolate and a Dark Creature or two?"

Was he being coy? Did he know what she'd seen last night? Damn it...She couldn't turn it around like that. Dumbledore's kindness always had roughly the same affect as Veritaserum on her, with a pinch of Elixir of Guilt, as well. She couldn't deceive him, no matter how bad it made her look.

"Actually," she said, her voice shaky, and her fingers squeezing her hair at the roots, "Hagrid got it wrong because I mislead him."She couldn't meet his eyes; nor could she look away.

"I'll just come right out with it, Sir."

He spread his hands. "I have always admired forthrightness."

"Lupin's a werewolf."

It was the sort of statement that normally was followed by a silence that seemed endless and painful. Dumbledore, however, merely folded his fingers together again and gave her a measured look as he spoke.

"You must be a very remarkable woman, Nymphadora, for Remus to have told you that. He's never voluntarily told another living soul, apart from the other staff, which I asked him to do."

"You knew, then?" Tonks was unsure whether this surprised her or not, but didn't have time to dwell on it.

"I have known since the night Remus was bitten, when he was five years old," said Dumbledore, "and I have kept his secret these...my, nearly thirty years now. How time flies. I remember him as a small boy, and a student here, as if it were only yesterday."

Tonks, however, was stuck on the bit about Remus being bitten at the age of five. Merlin's beard, that such a small child survived a werewolf attack at all was nothing short of miraculous. That Dumbledore could speak of it with so much calm, as if it were nothing, as if it were not a defining moment in the life of that small boy he apparently knew so well, and thought so fondly of, was...was...

Disjointed thoughts pummelled her from all directions, and she reached for the nearest one she could grab onto, and blurted: "You thought it was safe for him to transform on school grounds?"

Dumbledore's thick eyebrows arched on his high forehead, touching the brim of his wizard's hat of smoky velvet. "Oh, not at all. That's why the Shrieking Shack was built, and the Whomping Willow planted to hide the tunnel entrance."

Tonks sank back in her chair, needing the support of the sturdy antique upholstered back. All those stories...the "Most Haunted Dwelling in Britain" was originally haunted by...

...Remus?

Her Remus?

Having stood without her noticing and paced to stand beside his desk, so tall and thin and erect, like one of the spires of the castle, Dumbledore removed his spectacles and was buffing them on the lapel of his robe.

"But in those days there was no Wolfsbane Potion. Now Remus does not lose his mind to the werewolf, and there is no need to lock him away when the moon is full." Settling his eyeglasses once more on the bridge of his long nose, he met her eye with a slight smile. "He transforms right in his office."

"I know," said Tonks without really meaning to. She held her breath as the Headmaster regarded her steadily. Was he using Legilimency on her? Did he already know what she'd done last night? Oh God -- could Remus have told him?

"No," Dumbledore's voice crept gently into her musings. "Remus never even told his dearest friends."

Tonks' confusion as to what he was talking about must have showed on her face, because Dumbledore gave her a small, apologetic smile.

"About his condition," he explained. "Forgive me, I rather leapt back to an earlier point in our conversation with no warning. I forget, sometimes, that people are not mind-readers."

"If I were Professor Trelawney, I'd have followed you."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Sybill follows the beat of her own drum, I think."

"Quite." Tonks shook herself out of the stupor induced by the Headmaster's winning humour. "You were saying about Remus' friends?"

"Ah, yes. Thank you."

Dumbledore strode the few paces to the fireplace mantel, where a group of photographs in elegant gilt frames were artistically arranged. They were black and white, and too shadowy in the shifting firelight for Tonks to make out from across the room; she noticed that the Headmaster didn't seem to be looking at them, anyway.

"Remus' schoolmates -- the boys in his year, anyway -- observed the pattern of his illnesses and ascertained the truth for themselves."

Tonks clutched the arms of her chair. "Sirius Black?"

Dumbledore turned slightly to look over his shoulder at her, eyebrows raised again. In surprise?

"Yes," he answered, slowly. Measuring his words? "Mr. Black was one of Remus' closest friends. The ring-leader, I always suspected, in making certain that Remus knew they loved him unconditionally."

The note of sadness in his voice was unmistakable, and it startled Tonks, who had always felt rage simmering inside at the mention of the murderous branch of her family tree. She'd felt this way when Remus spoke of Black, as well.

"You were surprised when Black turned out to be a Death Eater?"

"Oh, yes," said Dumbledore sincerely, turning to face her fully. "Terribly so."

He looked suddenly older, and grey. It must have been a trick of the firelight.

"I trusted Sirius no less than any of Remus' friends. That his loyalties lay with his brother and cousins, in service to the Dark Lord, hit terribly hard."

Dumbledore trusted Black. What did he mean by that? Trusted him how? For no reason at all, she remembered the photograph she'd seen on Remus' mantel, of a large group including Dumbledore and Black, among others. She'd heard whispers, at the Ministry, of an underground soldiering group in the war, which Frank and Alice Longbottom had allegedly been part of, helmed by Albus Dumbledore. Was that what Dumbledore spoke of? Had Remus -- and Black -- been members? It made sense that betrayal would hit hardest in a group of that sort.

"Remus didn't tell me," Tonks heard herself admit. "I...well I came here to speak to him, and I saw him."

Again, she wanted to avert her gaze, but Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes held her, as if by wand. "I've always suspected that Wolfsbane Potion would allow Remus to retain his exemplary manners and warm hospitality even whilst in his werewolf form. Though I must confess I am rather pleasantly surprised that he managed to work a doorknob with a wolf's paw. I do not imagine, however, he was able to speak with you, as you hoped?"

Tonks' face burned. This was why Dumbledore made such an effective Headmaster. He never diminished a person's dignity, and he always assumed that everyone had walked the straight and narrow. It was a brilliant tactic for guilting people, and absolutely did the trick for Tonks' already active conscience. A second later, she had blurted out to him the full truth of what had taken place last night.

"Turns out he was keeping something from me," she concluded. "Just nothing like I'd imagined." She hung her head and, sighing, ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry I snooped about castle grounds."

"Rubeus would not have let you in were you not entirely trustworthy."

His warmth, which shouldn't have been there, not after what she'd done, forcing her way past the gates of his school, sparked the rebellion in her that had not been fully quenched by her guilt.

Looking up at him again, she swallowed, took a deep breath, and said, "That's the thing, Professor. Meaning no disrespect, but you still trust Hagrid to be a good judge of character even though he proved not to be a good judge of what creatures are appropriate to give hands-on lessons on in Care Of Magical Creatures."

"You refer to the Hippogriff incident."

"Yes."

Clasping his hands behind his back, Dumbledore turned and moved back toward his desk, this time stopping just in front of it. He rifled through a stack of parchments, and drew out a folded Daily Prophet.

"I confess I do not always have time to read the newspaper in its entirety once I have completed the crossword," said Dumbledore, carefully spreading it out to the front page, "but I gather that it has chosen to overlook Hagrid's side of the story. Which is perfectly understandable, given that Mr. Malfoy's patronage is of greater value to the editorial staff than the truth."

In spite of herself, Tonks laughed. She never could resist a jab at Lucius Malfoy -- or at the Daily Prophet and its sorry excuses for journalists, for that matter. But she felt a sharp kick from within, not to let herself get distracted by clever quips.

"Still," she said, voice tight and tinged with frustration that putting on a serious face was no easy task, "regardless of what the Prophet says, everybody knows a student was seriously injured by a beast that ranks fairly high on the danger scale, and it's a legitimate question as to whether dangerous creatures ought to be brought into -- or out to -- the Care of Magical Creatures classroom."

"I think, Nymphadora, that if you were to pursue a career in Magical Litigation, you would be as successful in that field as you will be as an Auror." He stepped around his desk and seated himself once more behind it. "Hagrid's side of the story is that the injured student disregarded instructions for how to approach the creature. Which implies, does it not, that had the boy heeded the lesson of the day, he would not have been harmed?"

"Yes, but the risk--"

"Other students approached the Hippogriff and experienced only the power and wonder of the creature," said Dumbledore. "Danger, if respected, need not be feared or avoided." He paused just long enough for the statement to resonate, and for Tonks to think that it was eloquent enough to be a part of a revised edition of Bartlett's Familiar Wizard Quotations, then went on, "But forgive me. You did not give up your lunch hour to discuss that member of my staff."

Resuming her seat seemed the thing to do, and Tonks did so quickly.

"Hagrid's got a heart of gold," she said. "I don't dislike him, but he has made some pretty huge bad judgment calls, and you admitted you never suspected Black of treachery. How can you trust a Dark Creature? Especially one who won't even admit what he is? Remus isn't registered, either, I checked."

She flushed again that she'd spoken with such borderline disrespect to the Headmaster and most powerful, respected wizard of their age -- but Dumbledore didn't seem to mind as he calmly folded his hands together atop his desk.

"Registration is not a requirement so much as a recommendation."

"No," said Tonks, "but why not register? Support Services is designed to help, and..." She stopped short of saying Remus looked like he could have done with some help before he got this job. "Well, if Remus is trustworthy, wouldn't admission and registration be the way to prove it?"

Dumbledore studied her for a moment, during which she began to second-guess her argument, though she didn't exactly have a counter one.

"You raise an excellent question, Nymphadora, which has been posed before, and not answered, I might add, by the finest minds in Wizarding philosophical history. Why do we mistrust Dark Creatures? Specifically werewolves, who, unlike any other Dark Creatures, are fully human twenty-seven days out of twenty-eight each lunar cycle? Even Werewolf Support Services is continually shunted between the Beasts and Beings divisions."

Tonks' thoughts touched on her own experiences with the Magical Beings department where, before she'd been accepted into the Auror training programme, she'd been required to undergo rigorous observation of the extent of her shape-shifting capabilities. She'd never been so self-conscious about her morphing; there had been a few at school, of course, who were leery of her ability to look like whomever she wanted, but the scientific types at the ministry had managed to make her feel at once like a genetic marvel and a freak of nature -- in neither case, at all like a person. Even now, the memory made her feel queasy. Put like that, she could understand why Remus would avoid the Ministry.

"We mistrust them because of the bad ones, I reckon," Tonks said. "The ones like Fenrir Greyback, who doesn't seem very human any of the days in a lunar cycle, does he?"

For an instant, Dumbledore's eyes clouded, and his face went grey, but before Tonks could contemplate it, the colour returned with a small smile. "In your acquaintance with Remus, has he struck you as anything other than completely human? Were you surprised to discover his lycanthropy?"

"I nearly fell off my broomstick," Tonks said. "It never would have occurred to me...He's the last person you'd expect..."

Her words trailed away as the thought that had troubled her most during eighteen or so hours since seeing him, because it had remained nebulous and out of reach, solidified, and touched down. When she saw the wolf looking at her through the office window, she had recognised him instantly as Remus. Paws, tail, fangs, snout, eyes...The werewolf had always been Remus to her. And it had not been fear that nearly sent her plummeting to the ground below. No -- fear had only come when the Dementors closed in around her.

Why? Simply because it was Remus? Because she trusted him?

Yes. Because she trusted him.

She did. Absolutely, without a doubt.

Even though he had, in effect, lied to her by not telling her what he was, still she trusted him. Completely, inexplicably, trusted him with her whole heart.

"Do you ever think what we're doing is mad?" Tonks asked, returning to the present tense of the Burrow's kitchen.

Molly stood at the sink, washing up the remnants of their tea, and looked over her shoulder at Tonks with a brow furrowed in confusion. Clearly she'd not expected her question to be answered with another, apparently unrelated, question.

"I mean," Tonks explained, "we're fighting a war the Ministry denies exists. That snake Snape's privy to all our secrets, and he's not the only one of his who's a bit dodgy. But we accept them all because we trust Dumbledore."

"Yes...." Molly drew the word out, clearly still unsure of how this pertained to Tonks' love life. "That's not madness, though. It's just...right."

"Exactly," Tonks said. "Maybe me being with Remus is mad to other people, but I don't care. He's right for me. I could search the world over and never find another man I trust as completely as I trust him."

Molly sighed, and Tonks, snapping out of her impassioned soliloquising, noticed that the older witch was stood starry-eyed at the sink with one sudsy hand spread across her breast, whilst the other, clutching the rag, dripped dishwater onto the floor. A giggle welled up in Tonks -- which she refused to believe meant she was thrilled she'd said something that inspired precisely the same reaction as one of those drippy Fifi LaFolle novels.

"Actually," Tonks said, "it was really because my Kneazle liked him."

The soppy expression was shoved from Molly's face as her eyebrows collided together at the bridge of her nose. "Your--?"

"My pet Kneazle. Cato." Tonks propped her feet in the seat of the empty chair across from her. "Only he didn't have a name then. I named him Cato cos he seemed like such a wise judge of character. You can't reject someone a Kneazle likes, can you?"

For a moment, Molly continued to regard Tonks with a measure of wariness, but then the corner of her lips tugged upwards, and her eyes glinted in a way that made Tonks sit up straight in astonishment. Why -- Molly was where the twins got it from!

Turning back to the washing up, wringing out her dish cloth, Molly said with no less cheek than Tonks had seen from the Weasley kids, "Arabella Figg would say no."

"Course -- Mrs. Norris likes Filch."

"Quite right." With her wand, Molly sent the clean plates and teacups to their cupboards and cleaned the water off the floor. As she dried her hands on hands on her apron, she said, "Although, comparing Remus to Argus filch is apples to oranges, isn't it?"

"More like apples to sour grapes--Molly?"

For Mrs. Weasley, on her way to the table with two glasses of pumpkin juice, had dropped them. Her face had gone ghastly white, and her eyes were fixed on something in the sitting room.

"Oh my..." Molly gripped the back of a chair for support as Tonks rose from her chair and moved so she could see. "Does it really say...?"

As the Weasley's clock with the nine gold hands loomed before her, Tonks stopped in the doorway to the sitting room, hand flying to her mouth.

Arthur was in Mortal Peril.

"But Arthur's on guard duty," Molly found her shrill voice, "wearing Mad-Eye's Invisibility Cloak. What could possibly...? Oh, Tonks--"

"Don't worry, Molly, I'm sending for Remus," said Tonks, taking out her wand. Molly had caught her other hand, and Tonks squeezed it reassuringly as she took out her wand. "The Order will see Arthur out of this."

Whatever it is.

She closed her eyes and pictured Remus clasping her rune bracelet around her wrist, telling her he loved her. "Patronum Nuntius."

From the tip of her wand emerged a silver curlicue, followed by the rounded rump and hindquarters, slender legs tipped with graceful cloven hooves, short neck, and lastly the snout of her pig Patronus. She morphed her own nose to match, and as she leant forward to touch it to the spirit's shimmering snout, she felt Molly's hand relax slightly.

Good. If you had to get saddled with a completely laughable Patronus, it ought to be good for cheering people up.

After she'd given it her message that something had happened and Arthur's life hung in the balance, she tapped her wand to its snout and said, "Oinkus."

Molly actually laughed as the little wisp of a pig trotted a circle round the kitchen, then pranced out the open window, squealing and grunting quite realistically into the night.

You've really got to show that trick to Dumbledore. He'd be right chuffed to know you're coming up with pleasanter uses for Patronuses than driving away Dementors, or even than serving as messengers.

It was with a great deal more dignity that Remus' lion Patronus bounded into the Burrow with the brief order to stand by while he contacted Dumbledore, but before it turned again to return to its master, the great shaggy mane brushed against Molly's shoulder.

As if Remus had charmed his Patronus to impart colour and warmth, pink blossomed again on Molly's plump features. She gave Tonks' hand a squeeze, then released it and had her own wand to hand, Scourgifying the spilt pumpkin juice and Reparoing the shattered glasses. A moment later, she'd poured more juice and guided Tonks into the sitting room, where her hand shook as she raised her glass to her mouth, and Molly sat in her armchair and took out the jumper she was knitting for Remus.

"It is easier not to worry knowing Remus is on the case," she said, voice a little higher than usual, pinched, the only indication that the clock behind her showed that her husband was in mortal peril. "Thank you, dear, for sending word to him."

"Sure, Molly," said Tonks, quietly.

She didn't deserve to be thanked. She'd acted reflexively in calling the go-to member of the Order, who just happened to be the man she loved. She hadn't thought about that at all when she'd sent for him.

Or had she?

"Remus has been such a rock since Arthur and I joined the Order," Molly went on. "I was really glad to be able to return the favour by helping out after the...after his..."

"His transformation," Tonks finished for her, realising that for all Molly had talked about the complications that surrounded their relationship as a result of his condition, Molly seemed unable to speak of Remus with werewolf terms.

"Yes," she said, setting her knitting needles to their work with a flick of her wand. "I appreciated the new look that day gave of you, as well. I never guessed you and Remus were...secretly seeing each other. His feelings were obvious, but you're a very good actress."

"Really?" Tonks asked before she'd swallowed, and nearly choked herself on her Pumpkin Juice. Still coughing, she went on, hoarsely, "Only I can't read him half the time."

Molly smiled knowingly as she rocked in her chair. "I've been married for almost thirty years and raised six boys. You'll suss Remus in time."

Tonks started to smile back, but her inner voice reared its head, snatching the bit of encouragement out of her grasp.

You've come a long way since you first met Remus and accused him of trafficking Dark Creatures on the Black Market, but Molly, wife of thirty years and mother of six boys though she may be, only just sussed you and Remus are together. She can't fully understand the ins-and-outs and ups-and-downs of your relationship. You know your own doubts. If you want real encouragement, you're going to have to talk to her a bit more.

Another voice argued that now, while the husband of thirty years' life hung in the balance, was not the time to moan about her love troubles.

Coward! Come on, Tonks, prove you don't have to be a bloody Gryffindor to go out on a limb!

"What if he's hiding from me?" she asked.

"I'm sure he is -- all men do. But he won't forever."

"How do you know?"

A wave of Molly's wand stopped her knitting, and she turned in her chair to look squarely at Tonks. "The pair of you have what Arthur and I have. When I saw you that day, so single-minded about getting to him...I saw myself, twenty-five years ago."

Molly's face swam in Tonks' eyes, and as she battled to keep the tears at bay, a leaden ball lodged in her throat, which felt to have shrunk to the size of a drinking straw. It wasn't for joy that she wanted to cry, that someone else saw what she had as special, lasting; it wasn't herself she wanted to cry for at all. It was for Molly, not a rush of affection for a remarkable woman who had, somehow, in one night, become a mother to her; but because she knew how Molly must feel, being told to wait, when inside she surely was hell-bent on being with the man she loved.

Merlin...if you felt like you did after two years of sacrifice and secrecy...how must it feel after thirty years, and seven babies? Not that you'd ever have seven babies...Not that you've ever thought of babies, at all, with--

Remus' thin face appeared in the fireplace amid the sudden flicker of flame from orange to green. His gaze found hers immediately.

Molly's knitting things clattered to the floor as she sprang from her chair with the dexterity of a younger, lighter woman, and the grace of Tonks as she stumbled over the tatty ottoman. "What word?"

"Sorry, Molly," he said, shaking his head, "none yet, I'm afraid."

Tonks bristled -- but to her chagrin, she knew it had quite a lot to do with the sudden emergence of Hestia's pleasantly plump visage through the logs beside him. He nodded to her, and she pushed the rest of herself through the Floo with a series of grunts that reminded Tonks of the ones she'd charmed her Patronus to make; only they were annoying, unlike Wilbur's, though that was primarily due to the fact that Tonks had to strain to make out Remus' quietly rasping tones:

"I suspect that Dumbledore must already know, and be on it, or he'd have replied to my Patronus."

He spoke with his ever-present, unshatterable calm, and his encouraging smile lingered on Molly as he stepped carefully out of the Floo, mindful of the soot. But when Hestia had gone to Molly, offering her an embrace and words of comfort -- or panic -- his eyes sought Tonks' again. She read the urgency etched in the lines of his forehead, and around his eyes and mouth.

"Tonks, you must go to the Department of Mysteries now, disguised as someone who might justifiably be there at this hour--"

Before he'd finished the word, she'd morphed into a squat, homely dishwater blonde she remembered seeing during a night shift. "Janitorial staff," she said, transfiguring her t-shirt and jeans into a plain grey-green work robe.

"That'll do." She joined him at the fireplace, and he leaned into her, lowering his voice. "I don't know what condition Arthur is in, but if it allows, move him as from there as you can."

"Right," said Tonks. "I'm on it." She reached for the box of Floo powder on the mantel, but Remus got to it first.

"Be careful," he said, opening it for her. "We don't know what's happened to him or who's about."

Tonks recognised the earnest look in his eyes that said he wanted, more than anything, to send her off into the likely dangerous unknown with a kiss and words of I love you, but of course he couldn't do, not with Hestia here in the room with them. Not for the first time, Tonks wished they weren't bound by secrecy, and felt rebellion swell hotly up in her; for the first time, she very nearly gave into it. This was war. They were soldiers. They didn't have time to play games. There wasn't room to be anything but what they were.

Even if, at the moment, what she was was concealed by the form of a Ministry janitor.

In the end, though, that reminder of how short time was compelled her to nod crisply and say, "You can depend on me."

"I know I can," said Remus.

With that, barely hearing Molly's and Hestia's calls of Godspeed and Be safe, Tonks grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder and cast it into the fire. "Ministry of Magic Atrium!"

Thanks for being so patient about my sporadic updates! I've actually got the first draft of the next chapter completed, so hopefully it won't be many days before I get it up, and hopefully in the meantime I can get chapter five written, as well. There should be six total, unless something unexpected, which at this point wouldn't surprise me, as the whole fic's been one string of unexpected chapter splits and plot twists to me. ;)

Not much Remus in this chapter, but I solemnly swear he'll feature much more prominently in the next two. In the meantime, those of you who let me know what you think of the chapter will get a Patronus message from Remus, or a soot-covered Remus stepping out of your Floo, keen for you to help him get cleaned up.

Read Chapter 4