Fic: A Moth to a Flame
Author/Artist: shimotsuki
Title: A Moth to a Flame
Rating & Warnings: PG, mild profanity
Word Count: 3950 words
Prompt(s): 3. Almost
Summary: In the weeks between losing Sirius and leaving for his mission with Greyback’s pack, Remus fights to hold on to his friendship with Tonks. But the hardest part of all is trying not to want more.
Notes: This is a stand-alone story, but it’s also part of the Kaleidoscope series; there’s a minor reference to the events of Colours Under the Moon, and this story takes place right after If Battle Lines are Drawn and a little while before Out of Sight.
A Moth to a Flame
Tonks Apparated straight into the Burrow’s back garden. Arthur’s Patronus hadn’t said very much, only that all Order members who could slip away were needed.
After two quick steps to keep herself upright after landing-it probably even looked deliberate-she held her wand at the ready and glanced around. Various Weasleys dotted the garden, with Fleur Delacour doing her best limpet impression all over Bill. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape had all come from Hogwarts. Mad-Eye was there, of course. And Hestia, and Dedalus, and Emmeline.
And Remus.
Who actually smiled a little when she caught his eye.
That was certainly an improvement over the last time she’d seen him, two nights ago in Molly’s kitchen, when he’d taken one look at her, mumbled excuses, and fled. And that made no sense. Not after what he’d said before, over tea in his flat, about their friendship being important to him.
She wanted to be angry.
Even so, she couldn’t help stealing glances at him sideways. His face was calm, even bland, but there was an unmistakeable tightness about the eyes. And he still hadn’t gained back the weight he had lost after the fight at the Ministry-he was too thin for someone who was about to start living rough-
“Ah, Nymphadora,” said Dumbledore, cheerily ignoring her reflexive scowl at his casual use of that name. “Most excellent. Let us begin.” He raised his undamaged hand and waited for the chatter to dwindle. “There are enough of us here now.”
“Sixteen,” said Mad-Eye gruffly, drawing his wand. “Good. Pair off-we’ll have four pairs for the cardinal directions and four pairs for the points between.”
Eight compass points. A security spell? But the Order had only just set loads of them around the Burrow, right after Sirius-right after the fight at the Ministry, when Tonks was still in St. Mungo’s.
Bill, standing nearby, sussed her confusion. “The Ministry sent some people over here this morning to put official security spells on the Burrow before Harry comes.” His smile was grim. “Dumbledore reckons Amelia Bones was using Ministry security when You-Know-Who broke in and killed her. So we’re going to do our own spells over again, on top of the Ministry ones.”
“Right.” Tonks shifted her grip on her wand.
Various people had paired off already and stood with wands raised, awaiting instructions. Only she and Bill and Fleur and Remus were left. And there was no point trying to dislodge Fleur from Bill’s arm.
Everyone had assumed, it seemed, that Tonks and Remus would be partners. As they had so often done, before.
She raised an eyebrow at him. Defiantly. “Shall we?”
“Yes, of course,” he said at once, sounding friendly enough. Sounding almost normal.
But she could see him swallow.
“Southwest!” Mad-Eye barked at them. With another glance back at Remus, Tonks turned to take her place in the circle around the rambling, lopsided little house. Remus followed.
Molly gave her a wink as they walked past.
Tonks, forcing a smile in return, thought Molly was being a bit optimistic.
~ * ~
Remus stood with his wand drawn. Nymphadora, steady and determined, stood at his right shoulder. Aside from the disconcertingly drab colour of her hair, it almost felt like any other Order mission.
Almost-except for all the...inconvenient things that came rushing back if he dropped his guard. There was that knot of fresh grief that still wanted to twist at his stomach, for example. Or the newly sharpened terror of Fenrir Greyback that tried to keep him swallowing bile. Not to mention the raw hole in his heart, ragged and crumbling like the soil where some vigorous growing thing has been ripped out, roots and all.
Details, Moony-mere details, said Sirius’s voice, breezily, in his head. His lips quirked, in response, but the grin tasted bitter, and then his stomach twisted-
Focus, he told himself sharply, balancing his wand. It was best simply not to think about it, any of it. Push it all away.
At least he was on a mission with Nymphadora. He’d missed that, missed her, this last week, while he’d been working out how to undo his colossal error. She was clearly angry with him, but that was fair enough. He’d been avoiding her while he got himself sorted.
“I’m glad you’re not in hospital this time,” he offered, trying another smile. “The security spells will be the stronger for having you here.”
She blinked at him, from under her limp brown fringe, and did not smile back.
“Yeah,” she said, at last. “I’d rather be doing something useful than rotting in St Mungo’s.”
He hadn’t wanted to avoid her. Especially not now, when both of them were struggling under the weight of new grief. When in a matter of mere weeks he would be setting off to join Greyback’s pack, and would most likely be gone for months.
Her friendship was the best and brightest thing in his life.
But it had been the right decision, to stay away for a while. Just long enough to be certain that the new hole in his heart was locked carefully away. The night when she’d come to him, bringing Greyback’s Ministry file, had very nearly been his utter undoing-finding his own bite report in Greyback’s file had left him poleaxed and terrified, and she had been right there, dangerously close, with her deep, dark eyes full of worry and sympathy and something else that he didn’t dare name-
Friends. They were friends.
“Ready,” came Moody’s voice at last, magically amplified. “On my mark, start walking toward the perimeter of the original security spells. Remember, constant vigilance-find and destroy any enemy spells along the way!”
A double whoop went up. Fred and George, presumably. Remus grinned, a little. To his great delight, Nymphadora sent back the ghost of a grin of her own.
“Just so,” Moody growled. “When you reach the perimeter, send up blue sparks, and when we’re ready we’ll all cast at once. Right, then...Mark.”
Remus started forward. Nymphadora was right beside him. After so many shared missions, it was only natural that they would fall into step together.
As natural as breathing.
So then why did his chest ache so?
Focus. He set his jaw, channelling all his thoughts into sweeping the ground for traces of unfriendly spellwork, until he and Nymphadora reached the point where the older layers of security spells tapered off. Still with that old effortless synchronisation, they raised their wands and launched a volley of blue sparks.
“Right,” came Moody’s voice again, a moment later, “all in position. Take hands and ready your wands. You’ll cast in tandem on the count of three.”
Nymphadora raised an eyebrow again-another challenge-and held out her left hand.
Remus froze.
She had always touched him, from the very beginning-on the hand, the arm, the shoulder. Touch was something friends did. Something this set of spells required.
It didn’t have to mean anything else.
“One!” came echoing across the meadow.
He reached across with his own left hand, below his wand arm. Miraculously, his fingers were steady, although they were cold even in the summer afternoon.
Their hands clasped.
Nymphadora’s fingers were just as cold as his, but as her grip settled and steadied in preparation for the complex spellwork, warmth spread all the way up his arm.
“Two!”
She breathed a tiny sigh, and the tense, angry set of her shoulders eased. Her fingers tightened, ever so slightly, around his.
Remus swallowed.
Her touch had always warmed him, from the very beginning. He’d spent so many years alone that he would never take a friendly touch for granted.
But he had been so careless all through this last year. So oblivious. He had let her bright cheer, and her generous loyalty-and yes, her touch-mean more and more, until he’d gone too far.
He’d thought he was safe again, now; he’d thought he’d managed to conquer this new weakness.
He’d been wrong.
He clenched his other fist around his wand until the end of the handle dug into his palm. But he simply could not pull his thoughts away from the electric tingle where her fingers clasped his. It was almost beyond his strength to keep still, to stop his thumb from tracing patterns across the back of her hand-
“Three!” called Moody. “Cast now!”
Just in time.
Remus caught Nymphadora’s eye, and they shared a quick nod before raising their wands and beginning the first sequence. Instinctively, he leaned back for a wider reach, trusting that familiar strong grip to balance his weight. They wove their piece of the great web of spellwork that flared brightly in the air before settling into the earth all around the Burrow, glowing like the embers from a fireworks display.
~ * ~
Tonks lowered her wand, breathing hard and feeling a little light-headed. There was always something exhilarating about casting in tandem, letting your own magic surge and pull together with someone else’s. But casting with someone you knew well-someone you loved-that was intense.
Remus must have felt it, too. His eyes were closed, and-astonishingly-his hand was still wrapped firmly around hers. She held her breath, memorising the press of his fingers.
His grip even tightened a fraction. And then his thumb moved, brushing softly across the back of her hand. Once. Twice.
She shivered. Her own thumb, all on its own, scuffed along his knuckles.
His eyes snapped open, wide with shock. He dropped her hand faster than he would have dropped a burning coal, shoving his fist into the pocket of his robes.
“That’s done it,” came Mad-Eye’s voice, still magically amplified to carry across the distance. “The Burrow is secure. Everyone to the back garden-Molly’s made sandwiches.”
“Give Molly my apologies, if you would,” said Remus, hoarsely, staring at a spot just past Tonks’s right ear. “I’ve-there’s-I’ve got to go.” He took a deep breath and spun on his heel, Disapparating on the spot.
Tonks might have felt hurt, all over again.
Except for the fact that she had just worked out a few things about Remus’s recent erratic behaviour.
“You complete and utter git,” she hissed instead, scowling at the spot where he’d stood. “I can’t talk you round if you keep running away.”
She was tempted to flee, herself, back to the Aurors’ cottage in Hogsmeade, to stomp and swear (and fret) in peace. But instead, she heaved a great sigh and went plodding in toward the Burrow’s back garden, where the small knot of Order members had clustered again. There was something else she meant to do today, and Snape never stayed after meetings for meals, so she had to catch him quickly.
Her target was standing with Dumbledore and Emmeline, glowering about as fiercely as Tonks had ever seen.
“You do realise, Vance,” he snapped, “that your little foray tomorrow night is one of the Order missions that the Headmaster had me ‘leak’ to the Dark Lord.”
“I know that, Severus. I’ll be fine.” Emmeline grinned at him in that slightly fey way she had, sometimes. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Just be careful,” he growled. “It’s out of my hands now.” He turned to go, robes swirling.
“Wait,” called Tonks. “Professor Snape?”
“What now?” He wheeled around again. “And I am not your professor.”
“I need to ask you a favour,” she said, uncowed by his hostility. This was important. And anyway, it was true, he wasn’t her professor any longer, even though she had nothing better to call him. It wasn’t as though he could take House points from her now.
“I am too busy for foolishness.” But he crossed his arms and waited for her to speak.
“I need to learn to brew the Wolfsbane Potion before the next full moon. Will you teach me?”
“No,” said Snape. “Was that all?”
“But-” Tonks blinked. “You know I can learn it. I’ve got a N.E.W.T. in Potions. And-” She swallowed, hard. “You should have seen how badly hurt Remus was after the last moon. He’s got to have the potion this time.”
“I said, no,” Snape snarled. “I have no time to spare for uncredentialed Potions apprentices. And where Lupin’s going, he’ll have no use for Wolfsbane. Good day, Miss Tonks.” He turned away again, nodding over his shoulder. “Headmaster. Vance.”
“But-”
Snape Disapparated.
“Nymphadora,” said Dumbledore gently, just in time to stop her from embarrassing herself by spewing a string of vulgar words in front of the elegant Emmeline Vance. “Severus is quite correct. He has taken on new-duties, at Hogwarts, and he is very busy.”
“Did you see Remus after the moon?” Tonks rounded on him. “Another transformation like that, and he’ll tear himself apart.” Worry made her cruel. “Then who will the Order send to spy on Greyback?”
To his credit, Dumbledore winced.
“I don’t want to see Remus injured any more than you do,” he said, placatingly. “In fact, I myself spoke with Poppy about trying to find someone to brew the Wolfsbane Potion after we saw how this last moon had affected him. She says there is a brewer she trusts who has agreed to help us this month.”
“Oh.” Tonks took a deep breath. “That’s good.”
“Of course,” Dumbledore cautioned, “once Remus leaves on his mission, he will no longer have access to the potion in any case.” His smile returned. “But, if you wish to learn to brew Wolfsbane for future use-”
Tonks straighened out of her sullen slouch. “Yeah. Of course.”
“I can’t say for certain yet.” The old man lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But there may be another Potions Master at Hogwarts this year, and he might be willing to teach you.”
She blinked. Another Potions Master?
“Come and have some sandwiches!” called Molly, in their direction.
“Thank you, sir,” said Tonks. She nodded to Dumbledore, smiled at Emmeline, and wandered over to the table that was piled high with food. She wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been hungry for ages. But if she ate a sandwich now it would save her the bother of fixing something later. Aurors had to eat.
~ * ~
Remus set Hermione’s school trunk on the kitchen floor and closed the Burrow’s back door behind him. Crookshanks dashed between his legs and straight up the stairs.
“Welcome, Hermione dear,” Molly beamed, giving the girl a hug. “You’ll be staying in Ginny’s room. Go on up and say hello, and someone will Levitate your trunk upstairs for you. Lunch will be ready in just a few minutes, mind!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” said Hermione, in the slightly breathless voice that meant that she was excited. “Thank you for bringing me here, Professor Lupin!” She hurried up the stairs, moving nearly as quickly as her cat had done.
“And how are you, Remus?” Molly patted him on the arm, looking at him a little more shrewdly than he might have wished. “Let me fix you a cup of tea. And do stay for lunch, now you’re here. It’s only soup and sandwiches, nothing special, but there’s plenty.”
“I-” Remus hesitated.
He’d only just been here for dinner at the weekend, and he had no right to take such shameless advantage of Molly’s hospitality. But he spent so much time alone these days, in his dark little flat, or hidden in the wood watching the werewolf camp.
And soon enough, he wouldn’t even have the option.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, giving in. “That’s very kind. I’m sorry to impose.”
“Don’t be daft.” Molly set a steaming mug on the table. “We don’t see enough of you these days. Sit down and drink your tea.”
Just then, a silver hare bounded in through the open window. Nymphadora’s Patronus.
“Remus, I have news,” it said in her voice, sounding tense. “Where are you? Is it safe for me to meet you?”
Something shivered in his stomach. It was two days since he’d seen her, but he could still feel the warmth of her hand in his, the brush of her thumb against his skin.
He ought to keep his distance. At least until he’d learned to make these shivers stop.
But-this sounded like Order business. If so, it would be irresponsible not to meet her and hear her news.
And if the mere thought of seeing her made his pulse speed up, well, no one else need know.
He looked at Molly. “May I meet her here?”
“Of course.”
Remus drew his wand and conjured his own Patronus. He was careful to stop the spell when the silver mist was still vague and formless, painfully conscious of Molly’s curious gaze. “I’m at the Burrow,” he told it. “Come as soon as you can get away. I’ll wait for you here.” A final flick of his wand sent the cloud of mist off in search of Nymphadora.
They waited in silence, Molly’s round face tight with worry. Remus sipped his tea, forcing himself to count to twenty between swallows. When the knock came, Molly jumped, nearly throwing the door wide open before she remembered to ask the obligatory security question.
“Molly,” said Nymphadora when she came inside. “Remus.” Her face was pale and drawn, and drab brown hair still fell to her shoulders. She swallowed. “Did you hear about Emmeline?”
Molly nodded, tears shining in her eyes.
“Yes,” said Remus, watching Nymphadora’s face carefully to see how she was holding up. He didn’t think she had been particularly close to Emmeline, but with this new loss coming so soon after-well. And she had only been a child the last time, when comrades-in-arms were falling all around them, more and more all the time until James and Lily’s sacrifice put an end to things, except even then there was Frank and Alice-
He cut off that train of thought, forcibly.
Nymphadora sighed. “Yeah, I reckoned Dumbledore would have got the word out.” She squared her shoulders. “But there’s something else, too. Not bad news,” she added quickly, when she saw both of them brace themselves. “Not exactly. But-” She gave Molly an apologetic smile. “Remus needs to hear it first. Can we walk in the garden for a minute?”
“Of course, dear,” said Molly automatically, her fingers twisting the hem of her apron.
Nymphadora opened the door again, and Remus followed her out, wondering just what sort of not exactly bad news could still have her looking so grim. But at least worry helped him keep his thoughts from wandering in inappropriate directions. His hands, he shoved deep into the pockets of his robes, just in case.
They pushed through the dank, chilly mist, walking in silence past the chicken coop and along the edge of the vegetable garden until they came to an old stone bench near a birdbath, weathered and mossy. Nymphadora perched on the bench and waited for Remus to sit beside her before she spoke again.
“He’s been cleared,” she said, in a low monotone. “Of all charges.”
“What?” Remus blinked. Her eyes, normally so clear and bright, were flat with anger, but this time she didn’t seem to be angry with him. “Who-” His breath stopped. “Oh.”
Acrid grief twisted at his stomach again.
“The Ministry announced the ruling this morning.” Nymphadora scowled, scuffing the toe of her boot against the spiky grass. “There’s going to be a press conference this afternoon, and it will be all over the Evening Prophet tonight.” She scrubbed at her eyes, quickly, shamefully. “I was waiting and waiting for this day-I wanted to take him on the biggest pub crawl London has ever seen-” Her voice broke.
“So did I,” said Remus, his own voice ragged. “It would have been a magnificent pub crawl.”
She looked up, eyes wide with dismay. “Merlin, I’m sorry-I shouldn’t be whinging like this. Not to you of all people.”
“Yes,” he said, steadily now. “You most certainly should be, and it’s not whinging.” He reached across to catch her hand and held it, firmly, wanting nothing more than to ease some of the grief etched on her face (if touching her made him shiver, made the raw hole in his heart ache, that was of no consequence, not just now). “We knew him best, you and I.”
She gulped, and clung to his hand, blinking a few times before managing a weak smile. “I just miss him. So much.”
Remus had to close his eyes for an instant, but he forced them open again and held Nymphadora’s gaze with his own. “Somewhere out there, you know, our Sirius is laughing his socks off at all this.” He found himself believing his own words, and a grin tugged at his lips.
Nymphadora choked out a watery little laugh. “You’re right. That’s exactly what he’s doing.”
He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed his (which squeezed his heart), and he found himself lost in her dark, dark eyes.
“Erm. Professor? Tonks?”
Remus blinked.
“Wotcher, Hermione,” said Nymphadora, a little weakly.
“Is everything all right?” Hermione looked from one to the other. “Only, Mrs. Weasley sent me to fetch you. She says lunch is ready, and, erm, you’re both to join us so she can be sure that you’re getting enough to eat.” Her grin was apologetic.
“I was just telling Remus-” Nymphadora swallowed. “They’ve cleared Sirius of all charges. Now that it’s too bloody late to do him any good.”
Remus let go of her hand, but he reached up and squeezed her shoulder.
“Oh.” Hermione stared at Nymphadora, looking concerned. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“At least everyone will finally know the truth,” said Remus, with half a smile. “Tell Molly thank you, and we’ll be there in just a moment.”
With one more worried glance, Hermione went back to the house.
“All right, Tonks?” Remus held onto that half-smile and remembered not to call her Nymphadora. “Ready to face the horde? I don’t think Molly is prepared to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Meet me tonight?” she asked, out of nowhere. “At the Three Broomsticks?”
He froze. “I’m not sure I can-”
“Maybe we can’t take him for a pub crawl,” she broke in, her voice wobbling a little again, “but we can raise a glass to him.” Her chin went up. “I miss you, too, you know. I never see you these days. I miss all those evenings we three spent in that mouldering old kitchen.”
He swallowed. Going to a pub was not something he should let himself do, because he didn’t have the money to spare for drinks, not when all his time was going into Order work and he wasn’t even picking up any odd jobs.
But there would be warmth, and light, and laughter. And Nymphadora. They could make a toast to Sirius, and neither one of them would have to spend this evening alone.
And there was no denying that it was better to see her in a pub, with people all around, where they could just be friends. Ordinary friends. The way they had been, before things got so ruddy complicated.
“All right,” he said, smiling at her again, and trying not to think about how the smile she gave him in return made him want to touch the smooth skin of her cheek, to gather her in and hold her close against his heart. “The Three Broomsticks it is.”
He wanted this far too much to tell her no.
And he wouldn’t do anything stupid this time. He was certain of that.
Almost.
~ * ~
.
Title: A Moth to a Flame
Rating & Warnings: PG, mild profanity
Word Count: 3950 words
Prompt(s): 3. Almost
Summary: In the weeks between losing Sirius and leaving for his mission with Greyback’s pack, Remus fights to hold on to his friendship with Tonks. But the hardest part of all is trying not to want more.
Notes: This is a stand-alone story, but it’s also part of the Kaleidoscope series; there’s a minor reference to the events of Colours Under the Moon, and this story takes place right after If Battle Lines are Drawn and a little while before Out of Sight.
A Moth to a Flame
Tonks Apparated straight into the Burrow’s back garden. Arthur’s Patronus hadn’t said very much, only that all Order members who could slip away were needed.
After two quick steps to keep herself upright after landing-it probably even looked deliberate-she held her wand at the ready and glanced around. Various Weasleys dotted the garden, with Fleur Delacour doing her best limpet impression all over Bill. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape had all come from Hogwarts. Mad-Eye was there, of course. And Hestia, and Dedalus, and Emmeline.
And Remus.
Who actually smiled a little when she caught his eye.
That was certainly an improvement over the last time she’d seen him, two nights ago in Molly’s kitchen, when he’d taken one look at her, mumbled excuses, and fled. And that made no sense. Not after what he’d said before, over tea in his flat, about their friendship being important to him.
She wanted to be angry.
Even so, she couldn’t help stealing glances at him sideways. His face was calm, even bland, but there was an unmistakeable tightness about the eyes. And he still hadn’t gained back the weight he had lost after the fight at the Ministry-he was too thin for someone who was about to start living rough-
“Ah, Nymphadora,” said Dumbledore, cheerily ignoring her reflexive scowl at his casual use of that name. “Most excellent. Let us begin.” He raised his undamaged hand and waited for the chatter to dwindle. “There are enough of us here now.”
“Sixteen,” said Mad-Eye gruffly, drawing his wand. “Good. Pair off-we’ll have four pairs for the cardinal directions and four pairs for the points between.”
Eight compass points. A security spell? But the Order had only just set loads of them around the Burrow, right after Sirius-right after the fight at the Ministry, when Tonks was still in St. Mungo’s.
Bill, standing nearby, sussed her confusion. “The Ministry sent some people over here this morning to put official security spells on the Burrow before Harry comes.” His smile was grim. “Dumbledore reckons Amelia Bones was using Ministry security when You-Know-Who broke in and killed her. So we’re going to do our own spells over again, on top of the Ministry ones.”
“Right.” Tonks shifted her grip on her wand.
Various people had paired off already and stood with wands raised, awaiting instructions. Only she and Bill and Fleur and Remus were left. And there was no point trying to dislodge Fleur from Bill’s arm.
Everyone had assumed, it seemed, that Tonks and Remus would be partners. As they had so often done, before.
She raised an eyebrow at him. Defiantly. “Shall we?”
“Yes, of course,” he said at once, sounding friendly enough. Sounding almost normal.
But she could see him swallow.
“Southwest!” Mad-Eye barked at them. With another glance back at Remus, Tonks turned to take her place in the circle around the rambling, lopsided little house. Remus followed.
Molly gave her a wink as they walked past.
Tonks, forcing a smile in return, thought Molly was being a bit optimistic.
~ * ~
Remus stood with his wand drawn. Nymphadora, steady and determined, stood at his right shoulder. Aside from the disconcertingly drab colour of her hair, it almost felt like any other Order mission.
Almost-except for all the...inconvenient things that came rushing back if he dropped his guard. There was that knot of fresh grief that still wanted to twist at his stomach, for example. Or the newly sharpened terror of Fenrir Greyback that tried to keep him swallowing bile. Not to mention the raw hole in his heart, ragged and crumbling like the soil where some vigorous growing thing has been ripped out, roots and all.
Details, Moony-mere details, said Sirius’s voice, breezily, in his head. His lips quirked, in response, but the grin tasted bitter, and then his stomach twisted-
Focus, he told himself sharply, balancing his wand. It was best simply not to think about it, any of it. Push it all away.
At least he was on a mission with Nymphadora. He’d missed that, missed her, this last week, while he’d been working out how to undo his colossal error. She was clearly angry with him, but that was fair enough. He’d been avoiding her while he got himself sorted.
“I’m glad you’re not in hospital this time,” he offered, trying another smile. “The security spells will be the stronger for having you here.”
She blinked at him, from under her limp brown fringe, and did not smile back.
“Yeah,” she said, at last. “I’d rather be doing something useful than rotting in St Mungo’s.”
He hadn’t wanted to avoid her. Especially not now, when both of them were struggling under the weight of new grief. When in a matter of mere weeks he would be setting off to join Greyback’s pack, and would most likely be gone for months.
Her friendship was the best and brightest thing in his life.
But it had been the right decision, to stay away for a while. Just long enough to be certain that the new hole in his heart was locked carefully away. The night when she’d come to him, bringing Greyback’s Ministry file, had very nearly been his utter undoing-finding his own bite report in Greyback’s file had left him poleaxed and terrified, and she had been right there, dangerously close, with her deep, dark eyes full of worry and sympathy and something else that he didn’t dare name-
Friends. They were friends.
“Ready,” came Moody’s voice at last, magically amplified. “On my mark, start walking toward the perimeter of the original security spells. Remember, constant vigilance-find and destroy any enemy spells along the way!”
A double whoop went up. Fred and George, presumably. Remus grinned, a little. To his great delight, Nymphadora sent back the ghost of a grin of her own.
“Just so,” Moody growled. “When you reach the perimeter, send up blue sparks, and when we’re ready we’ll all cast at once. Right, then...Mark.”
Remus started forward. Nymphadora was right beside him. After so many shared missions, it was only natural that they would fall into step together.
As natural as breathing.
So then why did his chest ache so?
Focus. He set his jaw, channelling all his thoughts into sweeping the ground for traces of unfriendly spellwork, until he and Nymphadora reached the point where the older layers of security spells tapered off. Still with that old effortless synchronisation, they raised their wands and launched a volley of blue sparks.
“Right,” came Moody’s voice again, a moment later, “all in position. Take hands and ready your wands. You’ll cast in tandem on the count of three.”
Nymphadora raised an eyebrow again-another challenge-and held out her left hand.
Remus froze.
She had always touched him, from the very beginning-on the hand, the arm, the shoulder. Touch was something friends did. Something this set of spells required.
It didn’t have to mean anything else.
“One!” came echoing across the meadow.
He reached across with his own left hand, below his wand arm. Miraculously, his fingers were steady, although they were cold even in the summer afternoon.
Their hands clasped.
Nymphadora’s fingers were just as cold as his, but as her grip settled and steadied in preparation for the complex spellwork, warmth spread all the way up his arm.
“Two!”
She breathed a tiny sigh, and the tense, angry set of her shoulders eased. Her fingers tightened, ever so slightly, around his.
Remus swallowed.
Her touch had always warmed him, from the very beginning. He’d spent so many years alone that he would never take a friendly touch for granted.
But he had been so careless all through this last year. So oblivious. He had let her bright cheer, and her generous loyalty-and yes, her touch-mean more and more, until he’d gone too far.
He’d thought he was safe again, now; he’d thought he’d managed to conquer this new weakness.
He’d been wrong.
He clenched his other fist around his wand until the end of the handle dug into his palm. But he simply could not pull his thoughts away from the electric tingle where her fingers clasped his. It was almost beyond his strength to keep still, to stop his thumb from tracing patterns across the back of her hand-
“Three!” called Moody. “Cast now!”
Just in time.
Remus caught Nymphadora’s eye, and they shared a quick nod before raising their wands and beginning the first sequence. Instinctively, he leaned back for a wider reach, trusting that familiar strong grip to balance his weight. They wove their piece of the great web of spellwork that flared brightly in the air before settling into the earth all around the Burrow, glowing like the embers from a fireworks display.
~ * ~
Tonks lowered her wand, breathing hard and feeling a little light-headed. There was always something exhilarating about casting in tandem, letting your own magic surge and pull together with someone else’s. But casting with someone you knew well-someone you loved-that was intense.
Remus must have felt it, too. His eyes were closed, and-astonishingly-his hand was still wrapped firmly around hers. She held her breath, memorising the press of his fingers.
His grip even tightened a fraction. And then his thumb moved, brushing softly across the back of her hand. Once. Twice.
She shivered. Her own thumb, all on its own, scuffed along his knuckles.
His eyes snapped open, wide with shock. He dropped her hand faster than he would have dropped a burning coal, shoving his fist into the pocket of his robes.
“That’s done it,” came Mad-Eye’s voice, still magically amplified to carry across the distance. “The Burrow is secure. Everyone to the back garden-Molly’s made sandwiches.”
“Give Molly my apologies, if you would,” said Remus, hoarsely, staring at a spot just past Tonks’s right ear. “I’ve-there’s-I’ve got to go.” He took a deep breath and spun on his heel, Disapparating on the spot.
Tonks might have felt hurt, all over again.
Except for the fact that she had just worked out a few things about Remus’s recent erratic behaviour.
“You complete and utter git,” she hissed instead, scowling at the spot where he’d stood. “I can’t talk you round if you keep running away.”
She was tempted to flee, herself, back to the Aurors’ cottage in Hogsmeade, to stomp and swear (and fret) in peace. But instead, she heaved a great sigh and went plodding in toward the Burrow’s back garden, where the small knot of Order members had clustered again. There was something else she meant to do today, and Snape never stayed after meetings for meals, so she had to catch him quickly.
Her target was standing with Dumbledore and Emmeline, glowering about as fiercely as Tonks had ever seen.
“You do realise, Vance,” he snapped, “that your little foray tomorrow night is one of the Order missions that the Headmaster had me ‘leak’ to the Dark Lord.”
“I know that, Severus. I’ll be fine.” Emmeline grinned at him in that slightly fey way she had, sometimes. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Just be careful,” he growled. “It’s out of my hands now.” He turned to go, robes swirling.
“Wait,” called Tonks. “Professor Snape?”
“What now?” He wheeled around again. “And I am not your professor.”
“I need to ask you a favour,” she said, uncowed by his hostility. This was important. And anyway, it was true, he wasn’t her professor any longer, even though she had nothing better to call him. It wasn’t as though he could take House points from her now.
“I am too busy for foolishness.” But he crossed his arms and waited for her to speak.
“I need to learn to brew the Wolfsbane Potion before the next full moon. Will you teach me?”
“No,” said Snape. “Was that all?”
“But-” Tonks blinked. “You know I can learn it. I’ve got a N.E.W.T. in Potions. And-” She swallowed, hard. “You should have seen how badly hurt Remus was after the last moon. He’s got to have the potion this time.”
“I said, no,” Snape snarled. “I have no time to spare for uncredentialed Potions apprentices. And where Lupin’s going, he’ll have no use for Wolfsbane. Good day, Miss Tonks.” He turned away again, nodding over his shoulder. “Headmaster. Vance.”
“But-”
Snape Disapparated.
“Nymphadora,” said Dumbledore gently, just in time to stop her from embarrassing herself by spewing a string of vulgar words in front of the elegant Emmeline Vance. “Severus is quite correct. He has taken on new-duties, at Hogwarts, and he is very busy.”
“Did you see Remus after the moon?” Tonks rounded on him. “Another transformation like that, and he’ll tear himself apart.” Worry made her cruel. “Then who will the Order send to spy on Greyback?”
To his credit, Dumbledore winced.
“I don’t want to see Remus injured any more than you do,” he said, placatingly. “In fact, I myself spoke with Poppy about trying to find someone to brew the Wolfsbane Potion after we saw how this last moon had affected him. She says there is a brewer she trusts who has agreed to help us this month.”
“Oh.” Tonks took a deep breath. “That’s good.”
“Of course,” Dumbledore cautioned, “once Remus leaves on his mission, he will no longer have access to the potion in any case.” His smile returned. “But, if you wish to learn to brew Wolfsbane for future use-”
Tonks straighened out of her sullen slouch. “Yeah. Of course.”
“I can’t say for certain yet.” The old man lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But there may be another Potions Master at Hogwarts this year, and he might be willing to teach you.”
She blinked. Another Potions Master?
“Come and have some sandwiches!” called Molly, in their direction.
“Thank you, sir,” said Tonks. She nodded to Dumbledore, smiled at Emmeline, and wandered over to the table that was piled high with food. She wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been hungry for ages. But if she ate a sandwich now it would save her the bother of fixing something later. Aurors had to eat.
~ * ~
Remus set Hermione’s school trunk on the kitchen floor and closed the Burrow’s back door behind him. Crookshanks dashed between his legs and straight up the stairs.
“Welcome, Hermione dear,” Molly beamed, giving the girl a hug. “You’ll be staying in Ginny’s room. Go on up and say hello, and someone will Levitate your trunk upstairs for you. Lunch will be ready in just a few minutes, mind!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” said Hermione, in the slightly breathless voice that meant that she was excited. “Thank you for bringing me here, Professor Lupin!” She hurried up the stairs, moving nearly as quickly as her cat had done.
“And how are you, Remus?” Molly patted him on the arm, looking at him a little more shrewdly than he might have wished. “Let me fix you a cup of tea. And do stay for lunch, now you’re here. It’s only soup and sandwiches, nothing special, but there’s plenty.”
“I-” Remus hesitated.
He’d only just been here for dinner at the weekend, and he had no right to take such shameless advantage of Molly’s hospitality. But he spent so much time alone these days, in his dark little flat, or hidden in the wood watching the werewolf camp.
And soon enough, he wouldn’t even have the option.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, giving in. “That’s very kind. I’m sorry to impose.”
“Don’t be daft.” Molly set a steaming mug on the table. “We don’t see enough of you these days. Sit down and drink your tea.”
Just then, a silver hare bounded in through the open window. Nymphadora’s Patronus.
“Remus, I have news,” it said in her voice, sounding tense. “Where are you? Is it safe for me to meet you?”
Something shivered in his stomach. It was two days since he’d seen her, but he could still feel the warmth of her hand in his, the brush of her thumb against his skin.
He ought to keep his distance. At least until he’d learned to make these shivers stop.
But-this sounded like Order business. If so, it would be irresponsible not to meet her and hear her news.
And if the mere thought of seeing her made his pulse speed up, well, no one else need know.
He looked at Molly. “May I meet her here?”
“Of course.”
Remus drew his wand and conjured his own Patronus. He was careful to stop the spell when the silver mist was still vague and formless, painfully conscious of Molly’s curious gaze. “I’m at the Burrow,” he told it. “Come as soon as you can get away. I’ll wait for you here.” A final flick of his wand sent the cloud of mist off in search of Nymphadora.
They waited in silence, Molly’s round face tight with worry. Remus sipped his tea, forcing himself to count to twenty between swallows. When the knock came, Molly jumped, nearly throwing the door wide open before she remembered to ask the obligatory security question.
“Molly,” said Nymphadora when she came inside. “Remus.” Her face was pale and drawn, and drab brown hair still fell to her shoulders. She swallowed. “Did you hear about Emmeline?”
Molly nodded, tears shining in her eyes.
“Yes,” said Remus, watching Nymphadora’s face carefully to see how she was holding up. He didn’t think she had been particularly close to Emmeline, but with this new loss coming so soon after-well. And she had only been a child the last time, when comrades-in-arms were falling all around them, more and more all the time until James and Lily’s sacrifice put an end to things, except even then there was Frank and Alice-
He cut off that train of thought, forcibly.
Nymphadora sighed. “Yeah, I reckoned Dumbledore would have got the word out.” She squared her shoulders. “But there’s something else, too. Not bad news,” she added quickly, when she saw both of them brace themselves. “Not exactly. But-” She gave Molly an apologetic smile. “Remus needs to hear it first. Can we walk in the garden for a minute?”
“Of course, dear,” said Molly automatically, her fingers twisting the hem of her apron.
Nymphadora opened the door again, and Remus followed her out, wondering just what sort of not exactly bad news could still have her looking so grim. But at least worry helped him keep his thoughts from wandering in inappropriate directions. His hands, he shoved deep into the pockets of his robes, just in case.
They pushed through the dank, chilly mist, walking in silence past the chicken coop and along the edge of the vegetable garden until they came to an old stone bench near a birdbath, weathered and mossy. Nymphadora perched on the bench and waited for Remus to sit beside her before she spoke again.
“He’s been cleared,” she said, in a low monotone. “Of all charges.”
“What?” Remus blinked. Her eyes, normally so clear and bright, were flat with anger, but this time she didn’t seem to be angry with him. “Who-” His breath stopped. “Oh.”
Acrid grief twisted at his stomach again.
“The Ministry announced the ruling this morning.” Nymphadora scowled, scuffing the toe of her boot against the spiky grass. “There’s going to be a press conference this afternoon, and it will be all over the Evening Prophet tonight.” She scrubbed at her eyes, quickly, shamefully. “I was waiting and waiting for this day-I wanted to take him on the biggest pub crawl London has ever seen-” Her voice broke.
“So did I,” said Remus, his own voice ragged. “It would have been a magnificent pub crawl.”
She looked up, eyes wide with dismay. “Merlin, I’m sorry-I shouldn’t be whinging like this. Not to you of all people.”
“Yes,” he said, steadily now. “You most certainly should be, and it’s not whinging.” He reached across to catch her hand and held it, firmly, wanting nothing more than to ease some of the grief etched on her face (if touching her made him shiver, made the raw hole in his heart ache, that was of no consequence, not just now). “We knew him best, you and I.”
She gulped, and clung to his hand, blinking a few times before managing a weak smile. “I just miss him. So much.”
Remus had to close his eyes for an instant, but he forced them open again and held Nymphadora’s gaze with his own. “Somewhere out there, you know, our Sirius is laughing his socks off at all this.” He found himself believing his own words, and a grin tugged at his lips.
Nymphadora choked out a watery little laugh. “You’re right. That’s exactly what he’s doing.”
He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed his (which squeezed his heart), and he found himself lost in her dark, dark eyes.
“Erm. Professor? Tonks?”
Remus blinked.
“Wotcher, Hermione,” said Nymphadora, a little weakly.
“Is everything all right?” Hermione looked from one to the other. “Only, Mrs. Weasley sent me to fetch you. She says lunch is ready, and, erm, you’re both to join us so she can be sure that you’re getting enough to eat.” Her grin was apologetic.
“I was just telling Remus-” Nymphadora swallowed. “They’ve cleared Sirius of all charges. Now that it’s too bloody late to do him any good.”
Remus let go of her hand, but he reached up and squeezed her shoulder.
“Oh.” Hermione stared at Nymphadora, looking concerned. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“At least everyone will finally know the truth,” said Remus, with half a smile. “Tell Molly thank you, and we’ll be there in just a moment.”
With one more worried glance, Hermione went back to the house.
“All right, Tonks?” Remus held onto that half-smile and remembered not to call her Nymphadora. “Ready to face the horde? I don’t think Molly is prepared to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Meet me tonight?” she asked, out of nowhere. “At the Three Broomsticks?”
He froze. “I’m not sure I can-”
“Maybe we can’t take him for a pub crawl,” she broke in, her voice wobbling a little again, “but we can raise a glass to him.” Her chin went up. “I miss you, too, you know. I never see you these days. I miss all those evenings we three spent in that mouldering old kitchen.”
He swallowed. Going to a pub was not something he should let himself do, because he didn’t have the money to spare for drinks, not when all his time was going into Order work and he wasn’t even picking up any odd jobs.
But there would be warmth, and light, and laughter. And Nymphadora. They could make a toast to Sirius, and neither one of them would have to spend this evening alone.
And there was no denying that it was better to see her in a pub, with people all around, where they could just be friends. Ordinary friends. The way they had been, before things got so ruddy complicated.
“All right,” he said, smiling at her again, and trying not to think about how the smile she gave him in return made him want to touch the smooth skin of her cheek, to gather her in and hold her close against his heart. “The Three Broomsticks it is.”
He wanted this far too much to tell her no.
And he wouldn’t do anything stupid this time. He was certain of that.
Almost.
~ * ~
.