April 1997
"Where is everyone?" Tonks asks. It has been a long day, and she hoped to the Order meeting – or dinner, at least – would be underway by the time she got to the Burrow. Obviously, she is wrong which is a total pisser, if she's honest which she is often these days.
Fleur, with a casual air, responds "Not 'ere yet."
"Oh," Tonks says, and sits at the table. Once there, she realizes that Fleur is looking at wedding dresses, and expensive ones at that. She feels a stab of something in her stomach, regret or maybe envy, though not over Bill Weasley.
She remembers being young and wanting a to be married, have that gorgeous wedding and honeymoon and connubial bliss and all that. Now, she doesn't think she'll make it to her thirtieth birthday so it doesn't matter anyway.
Soon, others filter into the room, first Molly and then Bill, and Arthur, and soon Kingsley and Moody. They're making small talk, and she's paying attention as Moody talks to Arthur about a new amulet being sold to ward off inferi and then Fleur, suddenly, tells Bill how lovely she will look when she gets married and, Tonks, are you excited for whenever you get married?
She's caught like a deer in the headlights, heart beating a panicked tattoo in her chest and that dull ache returning again. She doesn't want to tell them the truth because that would make her look even more ridiculous so she shrugs her shoulders.
"I'm not the marrying type," she says softly, looking at the table. The lines traced by years of bored Weasley children are more fascinating than this conversation.
Kingsley slips into the seat next to her as Molly says, "Of course you are, Tonks. Don't be silly – you said you wanted a family one day."
"The girl's being practical, Molly," Moody interjects. "She's an Auror, and married to her job - besides, these are dangerous times and –"
"Doesn't matter," Tonks says, looking up at Molly with a sad smile. "It's just not something I've ever planned, really, so it's not a big deal."
"Hallo, Remus," Arthur calls out, and she turns to notice Remus standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on her. Her heart pounds away. She smiles shakily, feeling like she's been punched in the stomach and turns back to the table, because she doesn't know how much he's heard and regardless, it's not a topic she wants him to join in the discussion. She wonders what would happen if she was to excuse herself from the table, but it'd take so much energy and she feels so weak right now.
Moody says something to Remus as he settles into a seat near Bill, and Remus takes off his jacket before sitting directly across from Tonks. She tucks her feet into the rung of her chair, since she's always kicking people under the table and doesn't want to touch him.
"The usual," he responds. She can feel his eyes on her like an artic wind blowing across her skin; in its wake there's only a burning heat and she's so tired of feeling like this. She refuses to meet his eyes through all of dinner, even when he talks about what's going on with Greyback's pack. She builds mountains out of her potatoes and picks at her food, like always, earning her a stern word from Molly. She does not look up to see the frown she knows marks Remus' face.
After dinner there is a meeting and after the meeting she's standing outside, smoking a clove and waiting for Kingsley to finish up with Arthur so they can Apparate together. He's got something for her at his flat, some information she needs to take to Dawlish the next morning and a handle of whiskey hidden under his sink which she plans on drinking.
"Got a moment?" she hears a familiar voice say, and she turns, dropping the cigarette into a watering can and shrugs her shoulders. She's a good actress – she has to be, with her talent – but she's not entirely sure that it'll work for him.
"I'm just waiting for Kingsley," she says, and Remus nods.
"I gathered, from your conversation after dinner."
"Yeah," she says. This is the first time she's gotten a look at him, more than just a glance, in nearly four months. He looks tired, and she feels bad, though she doesn't know why. After all, he might have a shit assignment, but he's making her life shit so it's all relative, she thinks. Even if he looks horrible and tired and he's got new scars and he's lost weight, she can't help but feel a little bit of warmth spread through her, despite all that's happened. It'll probably take years to draw him from her veins, something she knows would surprise him because he doesn't think he means anything to anyone.
"How have you been?" he asks, hands in his pockets, eyes glancing all around her but not meeting hers. "You look well."
"Thank you," she replies. "Happy Birthday."
He smiles, meekly, and ducks his head down like he always does. "Thank you."
"Sorry it's late," she tells him. "Did you have a good one? There wasn't a full moon, was there?" She hates herself for sounding so distant. She knew there was a full moon the next day, and knew that he was suffering the day before, weak and struggling, but something in her won't allow her to admit defeat of any kind.
"The next day," he says. "It was alright, given the circumstances."
"Yeah," she says. She wants another cigarette.
"And you? Your new man? I hope he's treating you well."
"New man?" she asks, then closes her eyes tight. Fuck. "He's not – I'm – I'm not seeing anyone." She lets her words hang in the air, spreading across the distance between them while she hates herself for being unable to lie to him. She never could – she loved him too much.
"Oh," Remus says, and has the nerve to look upset over something.
"Why are you doing this?" she asks, feeling something inside her snap. "What do you want? You obviously don't want me, and the more you keep trying to pretend we're friends the more ridiculous it gets."
The hurt on Remus' face is unmistakable, and she feels stupid. It wasn't supposed to come out that harsh but it did, because that is unfair but goddamn it all to hell she's tired of him acting as if March April May June July and even August September and October did not exist. They did, and they were glorious for her, even though her cousin died, because she was happy and thought he was happy with her.
"I'm sorry," he says, in a tight voice. The door opens, and Kingsley steps out, her cue to leave.
She says nothing, turning to Kingsley, who raises an eyebrow before formally saying goodbye to Remus. She says nothing until they reach his flat, where she head straight for the sink, conjuring two glasses in the process.
"You and Remus okay?" he asks.
"I am fine, and Remus is a prat," she says.
"I've heard this before," Kingsley says, taking the glass she offers him. She downs hers in one gulp, feeling the liquid burn down her throat. It's a nice feeling, a feeling she can control and one that isn't forced upon her by any one other than herself. Sirius once said the same thing, and so she pushes the glass away from her. Madness runs in the family.
"I care, but I can't, or I shouldn't. If I worry about him, then I'll fuck myself up and it's not like I'm anything to him anymore." She sighs. "I'm just tired of him pretending everything is alright when it's not."
"It's the male self-defense mechanism," Kingsley says knowingly. "It's how we handle what we don't understand – feigning ignorance."
"You're all a bunch of prats, you know that," Tonks says with a genuine smile. The firewhiskey warms her stomach.
"You," Rowena says, "are moping."
"No more than usual," Tonks says, suddenly defensive. They are sitting on a fence outside of town. The days are warmer now, and little flowers are blooming along the fence rail and so after their shift, they come here to start drinking early. It's a vicious cycle, a coping mechanism but there's only so much of this sort of life that one can handle.
"That's true, but you're definitely moping. You run into the ex again?" she asks. Tonks nods.
"Went to a friend's to have dinner and he was there."
"Surprised?"
"No, I knew he'd be there." Tonks jumps off the fence and is surprised when she doesn't stumble and fall. "Fancy a pint?"
Rowena laughs, teeth shining in the sun and says "When do I not?" which makes Tonks smile too. It's nice having a friend to talk to about things, ridiculous things like boys and clothes that don't fit arses and how much they want this all to be over (this isn't exactly what they signed up for, after all). She hasn't had many female friends, so this is a welcome improvement.
They walk towards the Hogs Head and in the distance Tonks sees a bum stumbling along the street. But it's not just any bum, its Remus, she can tell from the way her stomach flip-flops when she sees his frame. He's heading towards the Hogs Head, but if she gets there first he won't go in, she knows. She hopes, at least, because she doesn't want Rowena to know Remus because that's a million covers blown at once.
She thinks he must sense her, or smell her, because he stops and ducks into an alley and when they pass she makes sure not to look at him. Aberforth, as always, is welcoming and gives them some pints and they sit in a booth in the corner, chatting when Remus does enter, going up to the bar and sitting down. An hour or so later, when they're sufficiently pissed, Tonks watches him go to use the loo and then goes to the bar.
"You should say something to him," Aberforth says and she shakes her head.
"No, that would blow his cover. He knows I'm here, right?"
"He's been staring at you every chance he could get."
"What's he in town for?"
"Wanted some home cooked food. Stupid fool, refusing charity –"
She places several coins on the bar. "I want to pay for his food and drinks."
To his credit, he says nothing, merely nods and when she turns to walk out with Rowena, she can feel two pairs of eyes on the back of her head.
"No. Absolutely not."
She paused in the hallway. It sounded like Sirius and Remus quarrelling, and just as she was about to enter and tease them about being an old married couple, she froze at the next words.
"Tonks is a very nice girl, Remus. I don't see-"
She heard Remus sigh, imagined him rolling his eyes. "That's exactly it, Sirius. You don't see anything. If you did, you'd see I'm not interested, and neither is Tonks."
"Tonks likes you, Remus. You two get along well."
"Sirius," Remus said, and his voice was laced with something that wasn't malice as much as it was sadness and pain. "We get along well, but that's it. Tonks likes me as a friend. Don't pretend to see something else."
"What about you? You're a shit liar, Remus John Lupin."
"I could care less about Tonks. She's a nice young woman, and a good Auror, but honestly Sirius, you cannot be…fuck. It's not fair to her, to try to match her with someone who-"
"You do care, you bastard, you do!"
" – who cannot possibly make her happy." His voice grew quieter, sadder if possible as he spoke the last words, and she heard movement in the room. Quickly, she rushed down into the kitchen, heading straight to the stove to put on the tea kettle.
She didn't know what to make of the conversation, other than some lingering suspicions were now, undeniably confirmed, like the way he'd look at her when he thought she was absorbed in something else, or the way he'd linger after supper, and just other things, small kindnesses like cups of tea waiting for her or hanging her coat up when she came in cold from the rain.
She heard the trampling of Sirius' feet down the stairs.
"I heard," she said. Sirius stopped and she continued to fiddle with tea bags and mugs. "Tea?"
"I'm sorry," he replied. "Yes, please."
She shrugged. "What for?"
"I – I was going to ask you if you'd maybe go out with him, once, or something. Just get him out of the house, into female company. And the only reason I was going to ask was because, well, you seem to like him."
There is a nervous energy in her cousin these days, something she's seen in prisoners and she knows it's being trapped inside this house. Meddling in people's affairs is something he did not do before – not like this, for this is different than acting on instructions about people's secrets or searching for ways to mock Snape. This is sick boredom, she thinks, even if the idea isn't horribly repulsive.
"I do like him," she said softly, back still facing Sirius. "I'm just confused about how I like him."
"Oh." Sirius looked at her. "Oh."
"Does he like me?"
"Not sure – thought he did. Remus…doesn't take to fancying. Never did, really, because he never wanted to rock the boat – just wanted to blend in. Not to say he didn't date around – he did. Pulled some girls too. But…cases like this…he's content to do nothing, say nothing, because he's afraid of upsetting things."
"But isn't that what life's about?" she asked. "Upsetting the balance, just a bit, and maybe finding that the new combination is better than the old?"
Sirius sighed. "I know that. But Remus doesn't see it that way. He's had a shit life and, well, he's learned – or at least believes he's learned – that he'd rather be miserable and keep a friend than be miserable and lose one."
"So even if he does like me in any way that is not familial," Tonks said, "he won't do anything about it."
"No, probably not."
"So if I like him, it's up to me."
"Pretty much."
"That's shit."
Sirius sighed. "I know."
The days are long, and she is always so tired. The nights pass as she tosses and turns from one side of her pillow to the other, still trapped in thoughts and actions of the past few hours, days, weeks, months, years. She wakes talking to Sirius, only to realize he is gone, and sometimes she reaches out to touch Remus' shoulder, to slip an arm around his waist and her fingers brush against the cool pillow on the empty side of her bed. The bed grows colder, then.
The pillows are always so soft when she arrives home, falling face first into the cool linen and inhaling the fresh smell that seems to always linger, and her aching bones thank her. But she does not get a moment's piece, as it is. There is a tap on the window, i tap tap tap /i and she looks over to see an owl outside.
It is a letter from Molly, written in hurried scroll. Every word – there's very few of them – slows down time and she clutches the window out of fear and anger.
Remus has been injured. Please, come, quickly.
If it was a scratch, if it was not life-threatening, she knows they would not owl. But she also knows they would not owl if he near-death, they would come and find her. Perhaps it is a trick, perhaps a Death Eater has found the Weasleys and is luring Order members in.
She cannot ignore the summons: she is an Auror, and she can handle herself and if he really was hurt she'd never forgive herself. He might not be her favorite person but he's burrowed himself into her so deeply that his death would kill her.
She's Apparating to the Burrow before she hears the first words of Rowena's cry from the door. A tearful Molly Weasley greets her and behind her at the table sit Moody, Bill, and Fleur.
"Where's Remus?" she asks.
"Not here," Moody replies.
"He left when our backs were turned."
Remus does not like people fussing over him. On his birthday – the one they were together for – he asked her for nothing, and his cheeks flared as red as the Weasley children's hair when Molly brought out a cake for him. But later that night, he had no objections to her only present - a back rub and an easy night's sleep and upon waking, he had kissed her and smiled, saying that it was the best birthday ever because he got to wake up in her arms.
She really needs to stop thinking about the better times but sometimes, they're all that get her through the days.
"So you want me to go looking for him?"
"Don't have to look far," Moody says. "He's probably at the shack."
And he is, lying on the bed, the blood from his leg seeping into the dingy linens. Barely conscious, she can tell, he looks up at her and then closes his eyes again.
"You," he says, and she wonders if it's a plea or a pardon, a curse or a cry for help and in three steps she's by his side.
"Why did you leave the Burrow?" she asks, and he turns his head away from her.
"Didn't want Molly," he says softly, or so she thinks he says because it is muffled by the pillow.
"Yeah, she's not the best in these situations," she says. "I'm going to sit here."
"By all means," he replies and she sits down on the bed, crawling over him to get to the other side and automatically he adjusts his head to lay on her knee. He's so pale and she's so worried.
"She said you took a potion, but I'm going to give you two more and try to bind your wound," she tells him. He nods, and drinks the potion bottles she places at his lips like a child would and she can't help but run her fingers through his hair. He murmurs an appreciative phrase and groans when she slips down the bed. She rolls up his pantleg and administers to the wound, grateful to see it's not deep but merely multiple scratches.
"What happened, you crazy man?" she asks and Remus shifts on the bed.
"Fight," he says.
"You git," she says, smiling. "You're a horrible fighter."
"Know that. Couldn't help it."
She laughs and settles next to him on the bed. The heat from his body is scorching her, and she is surprised her clothing is not singed.
"Hey," he says softly, opening his eyes to look at her. She smiles, edging closer and his arms open to her, enveloping her. They still fit, the way they always did, and she thinks he must have bathed, or something, because he doesn't smell horrid - he smells as good as he always did.
"S'good to see you," he mumbles into her hair, and she wants to cry. She loves this man, even if he may not love her, and he hurts her so much she can barely breathe and yet she's still here, still loving him like she always does.
"You can't do this," she says softly. "I can't give you what you want, not when I don't know what it is. I can't, love."
He blinks, then his eyelids flutter close over his brown eyes and she presses a kiss to his forehead. She wants nothing more than to stay in his arms and to pretend that it is six months ago but she cannot. When he falls asleep, she slips out of his embrace and sends a Patronus to the school. She waits until McGonngall arrives and then leaves. She spends the night in the Burrow, in Ginny's old bed, trying to stop the tears.