"Oh," she said, stumbling into the dark kitchen. "Wotcher, gents. What are you doing up?"
Her cousin Sirius-not-the-evil-muggle-killer-after-all looked up and held a finger to his lips, signaling her silence. Bags hung over his eyes, and his other hand was drumming against a cup; firewhisky, she thought. She hoped it wasn't the same cup he'd been nursing when she'd left last night for her shift. "Moony here is still recovering."
The other man at the table hadn't moved his head. One arm cushioned his forehead, the other was wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. He looked like a man with an acute hangover, but she realized suddenly who it was, and why he was there.
Oh, bloody, buggering hell, Tonks thought. Last night was full moon. And here I am stomping in with all the grace of an elephant and less delicacy. "Right. Sorry." She stood a moment, wondering what to do. She was to meet Kingsley here in an hour, and had hoped to spend the time in the kitchen. There was just no way to be sure that, in any of the other rooms of the Ancient and Noble House, she would not be attacked by a murderous desklamp, or something. Maybe, if she were quiet and tried not to break anything, she could stay in the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, wondering what in the world one could do to help a werewolf after a transformation.
Remus raised his head slightly from the table. "Thank you, Nymphadora, but I prefer privacy right now."
"Right," she said, backing into the door. "I''ll be going then." Cursing herself for her tactlessness, she retreated to find a safe corner of the house to wait.
