Another impossibly late Saturday night at 12 Grimmauld Place. Tonks didn't want to go back to her flat to face the loneliness, the torment of what she had once thought were pleasantly lingering memories of happy conversation — and what she mistakenly believed were the beginnings of something more. She dawdled long after dinner, then spent an inordinately long time freshening up to volunteer to clean the dishes, which she hated. With all that time already lapsed and wasted, she could find excuse to stay late enough to be invited to spend the night.
But she needn't have gone through all that. Molly Weasley saw right through her, as usual, anticipating her need for company, even if the company were all sound asleep upstairs in bed. Even if the company included a bunch of teenagers with far less and yet far more on their minds than a grown-up love affair gone horribly wrong, meaning — a love affair that had not even properly begun. Furiously scrubbing a certain tea mug, a favorite of hers because it was a favorite of *his*, Tonks felt the beloved object nearly slip through her soapy hands. 'Oi!' she whisper-shouted to herself, as an unseen Molly came up behind her and put a resolute but gentle hand on Tonks's now trembling shoulder.
'Dear, it's just so late and you've been working so hard. I thought you had already settled in for the night. Everyone else went to bed hours ago. Now' — Molly's tone turned crisp and managerial, steering Tonks by the shoulders away from the kitchen and towards the first floor guest room — 'I've made up your room the way you like it. Charmed everything bright pink too. Please, rest your poor heart, and go to sleep dear.'
Tonks had opened and shut her mouth several times during this maternal speech but she realized that her protest would just be perfunctory and even dishonest. She wanted nothing more than to stay the night in that charmed pink bedroom with the Weasley brood and their friends (including the zany Luna Lovegood this time around), cheering the gloomy Ancient House of Black even in their sleep. Now that was magical. She hated it otherwise these days, getting up in the morning to complete silence, her usual high spirits flown far away…wherever her favorite, um, *friend* (was that the right word?) whose favorite mug she nearly broke had gone…It was much better to get up to a bustling busy house of smiling redheads. And at least one saucer-eyed blond (in addition to Luna, whose father had gone briefly abroad for research into a Quibbler piece on the attempted abuse of thestrals by the Death Eaters, the flaxen haired Fleur was unfortunately also spending some time at Headquarters). In any case, it all gave Tonks a sense of…belonging and family, so needed in these sorrowful times, even if she was one person contributing a lot to the immediate fund of sorrow.
Molly already had her seated on the edge of the fluffy pink canopy bed, and the Weasley matriarch was actually kneeling, starting to yank off an impassive Tonks's worked-in olive green Doc Martens. The most colorful thing about her these days, those boots were, Tonks thought miserably.
Finally realizing what was happening, Tonks sighed in weak protest. She did indeed feel the need to be cradled like a child these days, especially after her almost daily 18 hour shifts stalking the dark arts in Hogsmeade, but having her boots yanked off by Molly was taking things a little too far. She was a grown woman and couldn't fall to pieces, even if it was only 'after hours' that she allowed herself to deteriorate. Besides, Molly had enough to handle and enough exhaustion of her own to sleep away. Even more than Tonks had.
Molly. Merlin was she strong. 'Unlike me,' Tonks gloomily whispered. She hated how everyone now knew her weakness, or heard rumor of its source, how it showed everywhere and in everything she did — off duty at least — how she had to tolerate approximately twice the number of snide remarks from Snape over it, how she felt all the duller around the radiant Fleur who was prancing around these days with an ebullient yet elegant grace that made not only her boyfriend Bill's but all the men's faces light up (with notable exceptions, of course: Mad Eye, who, if he ever 'lit up,' vigilantly concealed his glow, and, well, Snape. Obviously.). In contrast, Tonks knew people were whispering about how down and awful she looked, and how her seemingly interminable depression might affect her job at the Ministry, how it might affect her work for the Order. Tonks had vowed not to let her depression get her that lost, but…Merlin, she feared she had no choice. Though she was constantly abiding by CONSTANT VIGILANCE (Moody was keeping his penetrating magical eye trained on her a lot more than usual these days, and it was really unsettling; she supposed that was her friend and mentor's best version of avuncular concern), Tonks knew it could only be a matter of time before she muttered the wrong counter-curse or failed to set all the shielding charms properly and, well…so much for CONSTANT VIGILANCE it would be, she often remarked to herself, with bitterness. Maybe she should just bow out now and go huddle in a corner. And die a lonely old maid who couldn't help anyone, not even herself. In whichever order those activities would cause the least inconvenience to others. Everyone but her seemed to know how to put duty over emotions, and she felt incompetent, out of control, and selfish.
'Whaaaa?' Tonks murmured. Molly had been whispering to her. She hadn't been paying attention. The older woman's eyes darkened in concern. 'Tonks,' she began slowly, 'Arthur and I want you to take a week off from work.' 'WHAT?!' Tonks exclaimed, now fully alert, painfully awake. And very much embarrassed, and alarmed. Had her pathetic heartbreak at last ruined her career and, far worse, her ability to contribute to the Order? 'But Molly! Please. Please just give me a little time to pull myself together. The Order's work…we're working for…for a better world. For all of us. This is more important than my own sad little sob story. Who cares about me?' She started laughing and crying at once, sounding, she realized, slightly unhinged. 'I don't care about me at all! I want to be the job. I want to do the right thing!' She was indeed pulling herself together. At least her outer self. Rallying her expression. Good.
She put on her best professional Auror face, giving Molly a pointed look. 'I am ready to do what is required of me, Molly, and am fully capable of it. Rest assured. You've just been catching me at a bad time.' Tonks coughed. Merlin, her head sure hurt and there was pain behind, actually behind, her eyes. 'Tonks, dear…' Molly took the younger woman's hand into her own and looked into her bleary eyes. Tonks looked away. 'I have no doubt of your willingness to help. I have no doubt you are capable. But you are still young. And this is a lot for anyone, especially a young person. Heartbreak is hard. It's harder when you're young. It's hardest during a war.' Tonks began to speak but Mrs. Weasley shushed her. 'Now, Tonks, listen here. We have decided, unanimously. Severus too.' Tonks groaned and slammed her back onto the bed so that she was lying completely flat her knees dangling off, one of her Doc Martens still half on, the laces in sad disarray, some tight, others loose. 'We all care, Tonks. We all understand. We've each pitched in an hour a day extra to give you this time off, and Mad Eye already arranged things with the Ministry. It will do you good and it will also help you help us better. It's only natural to take this rest.' Tonks started to sit up again, but Molly held up her hand. 'Now young lady do not argue! I said: we took an official vote — ' 'Merlin, Molly!' ' — ahem. We've taken an official vote and we have all decided that, in general, when one of us — ANY one of us — truly needs a break for whatever reason, the others will do their best to arrange for them to have it. This is not only about you, Tonks. It's about how we can continue functioning as a resistance group going strong, long term. Mad Eye himself agreed this resolution is in keeping with the principle of, erm, 'constant vigilance.'' Tonks peaked up through her limp mousy hair at Molly and saw a small grin. She couldn't help but grin a little too. She felt quite a bit better already, as the idea of a week long break, as uncomfortable and antsy as that still made her, sunk in.
'And during this week,' Molly continued, 'I would really like you to get your feelings and thoughts off your chest. I'm happy to listen to you talk and cry about —' But Tonks stopped her because she couldn't bear to hear his name. 'NO MOLLY. Sorry. No, please, Molly. I…I don't want to talk it out. It's embarrassing enough that I'm so beat up over some snotty git and —' 'You know he's not a snotty git, Tonks,' Molly said quietly. 'And you also know that's part of the problem.' At that the young woman burst into tears. 'Oh Molly…I love him so much…I really do…I am so torn up and I worry for his life and I cry and I miss him and I'm selfish and want him all for me, to come back here for me and give up the fight, and then I want to die for him and do this ugly work for him, all at the same time…' Tonks gave herself fully over to the melodrama she felt. Sometimes it was easier to feel melodramatically than to gather her emotions and put them to good use. For that, too, Tonks hated herself these days. But at least she wasn't cry-laughing anymore.
'Shhh…' Molly put her one arm around the sobbing witch's shoulder and with her other, in her free hand, she took Tonks's. 'Listen, Tonks, let's make a date to talk all about it tomorrow night. But in the meantime, I wanted to ask you something.' Through swollen eyes, Tonks glanced up. 'Yes?' she said slightly defeated, quietly. 'Well, Tonks…where are your friends? I mean your girlfriends? They can be so important at a time like this. Why don't you go out dancing or whatever you young people do, to blow off some steam? Then go out for a chat…? Doesn't that sound nice? You're too cooped up in here. We're only teenagers and middle agers. It'd do wonders to touch base with your girlfriends, I'd bet.' 'Molly…' Tonks chuckled softly, but shook her head. 'I've never exactly had luck with…ya know…hitting it off with other…girls…I mean…I'm more of a bloke's bloke kind of girl. I stomp around in big boots and fight off bad guys. My hobbies are not exactly compatible with maintaining the perfect blowout, and as for girl talk, well —' But Tonks and Molly did not get to finish their conversation about balancing the hazards of hair spray and hexing. For the door suddenly swung open, and the hallway light somehow at once silhouetted and paled in comparison to the vision now poised in the doorway, a woman with practiced ballerina posture swinging several shopping bags gloriously adorned in gold and purple ribbon, the bright beautiful vision of Fleur Delacour, flawless blond blowout encircling her perfect, haughtily smiling features.