chapter four
prowling
The next day, I Disapparated from my small flat and appeared outside of 12 Grimmauld Place. Pushing open the door to the kitchen, I fully expected to see Remus Lupin look up and spare a small, weary smile on me. Even though I'd barely known him a week, it felt like tradition, to walk in there that early in the morning and see him sitting there, without fail, reading the Daily Prophet and drinking a cup of tea, glancing up only briefly to smile at me, and then go back to reading the paper, and I would sit down across from him, drawing up my own cup of tea. That was the way it always was. Even in the space of a week, a routine could be established that was terrible, even ominous, to break. That morning, though, I pushed open the door, and Remus Lupin wasn't there. The place he usually occupied was bare; not even today's Prophet or half-empty cup of tea was left on the table in the space where he always sat. For a moment I just stood there, frowning at the spot, the door swinging shut behind me, completely unnerved to see how empty it was, as though he'd never even been there, as though he'd never even existed. That was how empty it was, and it scared me.
"What's wrong, Tonks?" Arthur Weasley asked me, looking up from the table.
I forced a smile, even though it felt alien and unnatural on my face. "I'm fine. Wotcher, Arthur, Molly." Moving around to get a cup of tea, I said in a forcedly casual tone, "Where's Remus?"
There was silence for a second, and then I turned around, trying to hide the worry line in my brow, even though I knew that I was not succeeding. "Nothing happened…he didn't get hurt on a mission or anything?"
"Oh," said Molly, looking alarmed, "of course not, dear. He just wasn't feeling well today, that's all."
"Oh," I said, feeling slightly put out – after all, he'd showed up at the meeting last night, and he'd been sick then – but then I noticed the way that Molly and Arthur were avoiding both each other's eyes and mine, and I couldn't help but feel that there was something about this whole spiel that they weren't telling me. "Anything I could do?"
"He'll be fine in a day or so," Arthur said, appearing unconcerned. I almost wanted to scream at him, and then calmed myself. Tonks…what are you doing? He's fine, you know that.
So I smiled and went about my business the rest of the day, even though inside I was grinding my teeth. It was so strange, not seeing him, not talking to him. Even though I'd known him only for the space of a week…could it have been a mere week?…I felt as though we were the best of friends, as though we couldn't go a day without at least communicating in some way. After last night, especially, it seemed as though suddenly we had some sort of deep bond. I knew that Remus was not a very outgoing man, and that he had told me the things he did touched me deeply. Therefore, the day was an agony, but I bore through it. Work was a particular sore; how could I concentrate on paperwork when someone was ill? I noticed, also, that Sirius seemed to have gone to ground when I made it back to 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus wasn't at the meeting that night, nor did he show for dinner.
Finally, though, just as night was falling, I found Sirius in the front room, asleep, of all things.
"Wotcher, Sirius," I said darkly, plunking down on the sofa. He opened his eyes groggily and groaned. "You wouldn't care for a game of chess, I imagine?"
"No," he groaned, then turned over, glancing out the window to see the full moon there, and closed his eyes again. I kicked him, and he grunted.
"Honestly, you're in here day in and day out, how can you be sleepy?" I demanded; I felt far too restless myself to be the slightest inclined toward bed.
"There's nothing else to do, is there?" Sirius said grumpily, looking up at me rather reluctantly. "And speaking of chess, dear cousin…what were you and Remus doing in here last night playing that dratted game for so long? I thought those pieces would never shut up."
"You were upstairs," I said peevishly, lighting a fire in the grate. "How could you have heard?"
"I came down for a drink," he said, equally mulish. "He seemed happier, at any rate. Hats off to you. He's a right old hag when it comes round to this time of the month."
I frowned at this. "Erm, why?"
"He's always ill, never fails, right around this time," he said, but he stuttered over his first few words, and Sirius Black is always smooth. I knew, right then, and right there, that something was wrong.
"There's something that none of you are telling me," I said softly, "isn't there?"
His silence was enough proof. The next instant, I was on top of him, my wand out and pointing at his throat. He glared up at me. "Sirius Black, you tell me this instant what is wrong with him," I said, trying to control the shaking anger and fear in my voice.
"Get off me," he said, his tone dangerous.
"Not until you tell me," I said, my voice shaking freely now.
In an instant, I regretted that I'd ever crossed Sirius Black; somehow, he'd switched our roles quite easily, so that now he was on top of me, my own wand pointing at my throat. "I might have been in Azkaban for twelve years, Tonks, but it hasn't done anything to my strength," he growled. "Now, are we going to discuss this civilly, or is it necessary for me to continue to restrain you?"
I glowered up at him. "I'll be civil, but you'd better answer."
He let me up. "It's not my place, Tonks. You have to understand that. Remus has an…illness…that puts him out of commission for about twenty-four hours once a month. That's all."
"What kind of illness?" I asked, my heart thumping painfully hard in my chest.
He shook his head. "I told you before, it's not my place. He's the only one who can tell you, and Voldemort be merciful if you outright ask him. He's sensitive, Remus is."
"I noticed," I muttered, tucking my legs underneath me as I stared into the fire, feeling oddly drained.
Sirius regarded me for a moment, and then said quietly, "You seem to be good for him. I mean, it's not everybody who'd go after him and make him come back to the meeting when they've just met him. He's really quiet, and he doesn't mix with people much, but I know he'd like to. He's always wanted to, it's just that something inside him keeps him from getting close to anybody. It took James and I forever to drag him out of his shell. Even after we became friends, he always seemed to think that we were going to drop him the instant something better came along."
"How did he end up like that?"
Sirius's eyes darkened, and as he turned from me to look at the fire, I knew better than to ask. "I can't tell you that, Tonks. Only Remus can, and I hope you're patient, because it might take a while." He stood up and stretched. "I can see I'm going to get no peace with you around. If you'd excuse me?" He strode swiftly to the door, but then glanced back a moment. "Tonks."
I turned to look at him. "What?"
"Don't think less of him, when you find out," he said, his voice low, almost pleading. "He can't take that."
"Can't you just tell me?" I begged him.
He left without another word.
I stayed still on the sofa for a long while after, gazing into the flames and thinking – or trying not to think – about Remus. Had this "condition" been the reason that Molly and Arthur had avoided my eyes that morning? The reason that they acted as if it was almost normal, but not normal with me around? Was I not trustworthy enough to indulge the secret to? I bristled at the thought.
But Sirius had said that only Remus could tell me. Maybe it's simply for privacy's sake, I thought, suddenly very tired. Maybe he doesn't feel the need to tell me just yet. But why had Sirius's eyes darkened that way when he spoke of it? What was wrong with my new friend? I was suddenly restless again, and got up to pace the floor.
I awoke very suddenly to a muffled thump, bolting upright and panting, panicking at the complete lack of light; the darkness seemed to press down on my eyes, blindfolding me, making me feel unbearably vulnerable. The nightmare had already faded by the time I grasped my wand, rasping, "Lumos!" The tip flared. Apparently, I'd fallen asleep on the couch of the front room of 12 Grimmauld Place, and the fire had died down to glowing embers, the reason for the almost unnatural darkness in the room. I didn't like it, not at all. I glanced around, still vaguely uneasy about that muffled thump. It had come from upstairs, I was sure of that; damned if I wasn't going to investigate it.
All thoughts of Remus temporarily driven from my mind, I whispered, "Nox," to put the wand light out, knowing that I would need stealth if I wanted to make it up those stairs unnoticed. As silently as I could, I tiptoed to the door of the front room and glanced around the hallway. There was no light coming from under the kitchen door, so I could safely assume that Hermione and the Weasleys were all in bed, if not asleep. The house-elf heads stood out eerily from the walls, and the dim half-light coming in from the street lamps outside made their ears and noses cast odd shadows, so that they seemed like grotesquely carved figurines rather than once-living creatures. I shuddered, and started creeping up the stairs, praying that my clumsiness would not surface now.
At the first landing, I listened carefully. From the sound of it, everyone was still asleep, miraculously. That thump really had been rather loud. I peered around, tempted to light my wand again, but decided that it wasn't worth it. Then, suddenly, the sound came again: a muffled thump, and what sounded suspiciously like a moan. My stomach clenched rather suddenly, and I crept onward, toward another set of stairs that led to the attic. At the foot of this set of stairs, I glanced around and listened again. This time the groan was less willing to present itself. I must have waited for five minutes, still as a statue, holding my breath, until finally, there was a last noise – a weak whimper.
Quickly now, I slipped up the steps and listened at the door. Inside, Sirius's voice said softly, "I dunno, Moony, I reckon you should tell her soon."
There came a faint growl. I frowned. Did Sirius keep a wild dog up here or what? And why had he used Remus's nickname? Was Remus possibly inside with him? Slowly, I cracked open the door. The result was, once again, instantaneous and disastrous; Sirius's voice roared, "Muffliato!" and someone launched himself at me. We rolled down the stairs, grappling, and when we finally landed at the bottom, I was sore and bruised and pinned to the ground by Sirius.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled.
"I heard something," I said defensively, trying to ignore that Sirius's grip on my arms was painfully tight.
"You didn't hear anything," Sirius snapped. "Go home, Tonks, and stop prowling round here at night. Let's forget that this ever happened."
He let go of me and was already inside the attic, shutting the door, by the time I even thought to move. Lying there, hurt, bruised, and bewildered, I could barely even think. When I finally did stumble to my feet, I got out of 12 Grimmauld Place as fast as I could, unwilling to stay there any longer.
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