Still

Tonks couldn't shake what she had learned about Andromeda, and although she knew she would have to swallow it down at some point and just forgive her, she didn't want to yet. Every time she thought about the hours, days, weeks, years, that Sirius spent in that hell hole she couldn't help but come around to the idea that Andromeda never had to atone for that injustice. She didn't suffer consequences then and Tonks may create the only real consequences that would exist now.

And so she ignored the owls, the calls by floo, and even the day her father came by her office to try and talk her around. But Tonks wasn't ready to give it up just then. Ted stood at the entrance to her cubicle.

"I had a meeting down this way today," he said. Lied, likely. He rarely had business in London, and when he did he usually tried to get a subordinate sent in his place. Tonks didn't look up from her work.

"Already ate," she lied back to him.

"Come on, Dora," Ted sighed, clearly exasperated by her stubbornness. "I don't know what the two of you got into but—"

"Dad, just stay out of it."

"Dora, I—"

"No," she said, her tone sharp, sharper than it had ever been towards her father. He looked surprised. "You always do this, Dad. You always come in and try to smooth things over for her and it's not going to work this time."

"I don't—"

"It's not going to work this time," she repeated. She turned back to the papers on her desk. Ted let out a frustrated growl, but didn't try to talk to her again.

Not a moment later, Tonks could hear another voice on the other side of the thin, moveable walls. "Mr. Tonks, hi," Hancock said.

Tonks ground her teeth together.

"Hello, Orion," Ted said, his voice tight.

"Sir, sir," Hancock said, his voice lowering. "I just… I wanted to talk to you, actually."

Tonks pushed her chair back, irritated at just the level of stupidity Hancock could dwell in. Didn't he realize she was right there? Clearly he couldn't be so clueless as to think his voice wouldn't carry.

"Sir, I'm worried that Tonks might be mingling with some dangerous people."

Tonks was about to go and chew him out—chew her father out for letting Hancock speak to him—when she stopped, hearing her father's response.

"I don't know who you think you are to my family, boy, but I suggest you keep that pretty little nose of yours out of my daughter's business if you don't want it to look like it's been whacked about by a bludger a few dozen times."

"Sir, I—"

"Good day to you, too, Orion," Ted cut him off sharply.

Tonks leaned back, peeking just beyond the wall. Her father had stalked off towards the lift and Hancock stood, looking after him. The back of his neck was reddened and he ran his hand through his hair. Tonks let out a breath and turned back to her work, knowing her dad had just taken time off her mother's sentence.

Remus knew it was going to be a rough month for bouncing back. Even though the full moon had ended two days before, he could hardly get himself out of bed and had practically slept the entire time, not bothering to show up to an Order meeting the night before, and dragging himself to Grimmauld place closer to a leaving time with Tonks than he would have otherwise. He slumped into the kitchen, dropping down at the table across from Bill and Fleur, who had been found here together often enough for everyone to know what was going on. Of course, the way Fleur was flirting with Bill, an idiot could see what was going on. Mundungus sat in the corner, practically in a stupor staring at the couple. Remus didn't know why, but this irritated him.

He tried to focus his own attention elsewhere, noticing Tonks as she sat on the counter next to Sirius, who was working through cleaning various dishes. She laughed at something he said, her nose scrunching up and her smile wide. Remus wanted to know what the joke was, what had elicited that kind of reaction from Tonks. Why he could never seem to get that sort of carefree laugh from her. He reached for the pitcher of pumpkin juice in the middle of the table, hating how easy Sirius seemed to charm others. He had always been that way. And Sirius had always taken it for granted.

"Alright, there?" Tonks asked.

Remus looked up, seeing her smiling his direction. He looked back down at his cup. Sirius moved towards him, a bowl in hand.

Don't tear yourself away from Sirius on my count, he thought, his mind filled with a fog of bitterness. "Fine," he said instead, picking up a spoon and digging into whatever stew Sirius had thrown together.

Remus could have done with a meal from Molly—something hearty and filling that warmed you from the core out—but he ate, looking down into his bowl as Tonks and Sirius began their conversation again.

"I'm telling you, the Harpies are just having a building year," Tonks insisted. "With a new coach, and half the team—"

"Or they're just terrible," Sirius said.

Of course you think that.

"Come off it!" Tonks threw a roll at Sirius.

It was such a playful gesture, so genuinely fun between the two of them and Remus hated it. He had been friends with her longer, technically. Yes, she knew Sirius when she was a kid, but how much did anyone know their nearly adult cousins when they were kids. Remus was sure she was ignoring him as she prattled on with Sirius. He slouched over his food further, one arm wrapped around the back of the bowl as though he were protecting it from a potential thief.

"I have some chocolate cake saved up in the pantry for you," Sirius said, refilling Remus's glass.

"I don't need it," Remus practically growled.

Sirius shrugged, taking the now-empty pitcher with him. "Molly made it last night. Just thought you might want some since…"

Since finishing my monster phase? Remus finished Sirius's open ended comment to himself.

"Maybe you'll want it when we get back from watch," Tonks said. She was looking at her watch. "Kingsley and Arthur are waiting for us to come."

"Fine," Remus said, pushing away his bowl.

"You can finish eating, I was just—"

"It's fine," he repeated, this time pushing the chair back, the legs scraping against the floor loudly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tonks and Sirius exchange a glance. Remus ignored this and moved towards the door.

"Let me know when you hear from Harry," Tonks said. "Ginny seemed to think he was a bit down."

Remus half wanted to turn back and ask what she meant, but aside from the boiling part of himself that was ready to explode, Tonks was already skipping after him, grabbing the door as he opened it up. They walked quietly through the street, Remus taking long steps and Tonks walking quickly to keep up. She looked around, pushing back her sleeves with her wand in her right hand. Remus pulled his own out.

"One, two, three," Tonks said and the two apparated, landing on a rooftop, the night air cooler here in the north of England.

Kingsley stood looking over the edge of the rooftop. Arthur was in an old lawn chair, feet kicked up and crossed on the ledge, his chin against his chest as he lightly snored.

"Wotcher," Tonks said with a nod of her head. Kingsley reached over, nudging at Arthur's ankles until he started awake.

Where the greeting normally made Remus smile, today it grated at the same nerves that were raw from walking into the kitchen and seeing Tonks so friendly with Sirius in the kitchen. He half listened to the update Arthur gave as he wondered how long Tonks had been there. Was this her day off? She usually got the day of or the one after off when she had a night shift with the Order. It was probably the former. She probably spent the whole day there, or at least most of the evening.

"You alright, Remus?" Arthur asked.

Remus blinked at him. The others all stared as well. Kingsley had a searching look, Arthur had his normal kind and generous smile, and Tonks' brows were knit—now beneath jet black hair to match her black clothing. She must have switched it while walking.

"Fine," he said, shortly.

"I can send Bill along later, if you need a night off," Arthur said.

An image of Tonks and Bill here on their own, joking and chatting and going on filled Remus's mind.

"No," Remus said. "I'm fine."

"Alright," Arthur said. "You can always change your mind."

They moved on from the questions, finishing up the briefing and the two were off. Tonks took the spot on the roof's ledge, her eyes looking out into the distance, her face set as Remus took the chair that had been left by Kingsley. They sat in silence for a long stretch—probably a longer stretch of silence than he had ever experienced with Tonks.

Remus let out a breath. Don't be an ass, he told himself. He stood slowly, digging his non-wand hand into his pocket and sat opposite Tonks, leaning against the ledge. She moved, crossing her legs and leaning elbows on knees. The last time he had seen her so pensive was when Hancock had dumped her. She hadn't been seeing anyone, though… had she?

"What's been happening the last week?" Remus asked. Even to his own ears, it sounded strained.

Tonks didn't react to it, though. She continued looking out.

"Nothing, really," Tonks replied. "Fudge is trying to gain more control at work. But he's not going about it the right way, really. Hancock and Burges were approached and Hancock tried to ask me if I was still in touch with Mad-Eye, but he should have known better."

"I didn't know he even talked to you anymore," Remus said.

"Yeah, well…" Tonks said, pressing her lips together.

Remus thought he saw a spark of something in her response. He hadn't thought Tonks still hung onto Hancock, but was he wrong? There was something hard in her look. He had definitely raised some kind of emotion. He could feel the bitterness rising in his throat again, and he swallowed it back.

"What was it you were saying about Ginny?" Remus asked. "Earlier... back at headquarters?"

This seemed a better option. Tonks chattered, telling him about all sorts of stories Ginny shared, even without further prompting. The night air grew breezy as she continued to talk, conveying Ginny's correspondence, retelling the funny stories, and her guesses about the new boyfriend—the things Ginny swore her to secrecy when writing—and the appointee of Fudge to the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts, which Remus hated to hear. It was the one job he had loved more than any other.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought that one up," Tonks said, gently.

"Why not?" Remus asked, his throat tight, unwilling to look at Tonks.

"I know you loved teaching," Tonks said. "I bet you were great at that."

"Yeah, sure."

"Sorry, I just—"

"It sounds like they all have a lot on their plates this year," Remus interrupted.

"Remus, did I do something—"

"Heard from Harry?" Remus cut her off.

Tonks took a deep breath. "No," she said. "Sirius gets letter from Harry, now and again. He hasn't said much about some of those things, though."

"Oh."

Sirius had come back up again and mental images sprung to the surface along with his name. Tonks didn't seem to notice this time, though. The pensive expression that had come over Tonks so many times already blanketed whatever had been there a moment before.

"I feel bad that he doesn't get to go see Harry, you know," Tonks said. "They seem so close… and neither has any other family… I mean, not close family. Harry especially…"

Remus wanted to say that he had been close with Harry first, but he didn't, instead allowing Tonks to go on and on, talking through something she knew so little about, praising Sirius and giving him sympathy, the same way girls at school often did when he got himself into hot water. Sirius had always done well for himself, in these regards. Everyone was always on his side.

"... it just makes me wonder," Tonks continued in her stream of thought about Sirius. "You know, I keep wondering what his life would be now if… someone… if anyone had stuck up for him. You know?"

Remus tried to push back a scowl. Was that an indictment of him? She didn't understand what it was like back then. They had all told him the secret keeper was Sirius. James had told him so, directly. What else was he supposed to think?

Tonks paused and silence hung between them. When she spoke again, there was a curiosity to her tone.

"He's still handsome, isn't he?" Tonks mused. Remus felt something ugly rip at his insides. "Even after Azkaban."

"He always got the women," Remus said, half under his breath.

Tonks turned towards him scowling. "So?"

"So?" Remus said, trying to bite it back, but it was like vomit, coming out without his permission. He touched the scars along his neck, knowing that nothing could make him handsome. Azkaban couldn't touch Sirius's good looks, but what could Remus ever do that would make him as appealing? "So, I don't get what all of you see. He's impulsive and self-centered and it isn't as though he goes out of his way to care about others, but sure, he's handsome, isn't he? That's all that counts."

"What is with you?" Tonks snapped.

"Nothing at all. What do I care if you want to be with someone like Black?"

"Be with? He's my cousin!"

"Since when did purebloods care about that?"

As soon as the words slipped from him, Remus could feel the heaviness hang in the air. He swallowed and chanced a glance at Tonks out of the corner of his eye. Her upper lip was lifted in disgust. A look of disbelief etched into her eyes. He tried to steel himself. Hadn't she just called Sirius handsome? He didn't say anything else, clenching his jaw together, willing himself not to say another word.

Tonks turned towards him, leaning forward until he looked directly at her, swallowing. Her glance was direct, firm.

"You'd know perfectly well who I've fallen for, if you weren't too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice," she snapped, then turned and moved to the other corner of the roof, leaving Remus staring after her.

He blinked, wondering if he had heard that correctly. It sounded almost… she had meant… she had fallen for him? For the heaviness that had surrounded them a moment before, Remus felt suddenly light, like he might just float on over. But besides Tonks's folded arms and surly look, Remus thought for a moment and realized it didn't matter. A battle within waged quickly: guilt for talking about Sirius that way and lashing out, joy at what he never thought could be, and then… knowing that it wouldn't be. He couldn't be with anyone, let alone Tonks. He couldn't. Not with what he was.

The next several hours Remus grappled with the last reality on his own, the two staying silent as they kept watch on an uneventful night. There was just the hint of sunrise on the horizon when Hestia Jones came to take over on her own for the day.

Remus stayed quiet as Tonks gave a report, and the two stalked across the rooftop before both apparating to the end of Grimauld place together. When they landed, Remus stopped, hoping to hash things out before getting in front of everyone else. Tonks, though, did not seem to care. He watched as she walked away, fists clenched beside her. Remus took a deep breath. He didn't follow. He didn't want to see anyone else. He would probably do better on his own, shaking off the moon cycle and apologizing once Tonks had a chance to cool off. He could smooth it over then.

Remus apparated back to his apartment instead, going into the kitchen and getting himself some water and a chunk of chocolate. The more he repeated Tonks's words in his mind, the more he knew he should have asked for a replacement the night before. The regret would be replaced by glee, then back to the regret for knowing, the regret for leading her on, the regret for who he was.

A knock on Remus's door brought him out of his head and he narrowed his eyes, pulling out his wand. He moved slowly, looking out the peephole, but whoever it was moved back and forth too quickly. He only saw a mess of dark hair swinging in front of it. Remus swallowed, wondering why Tonks would have told Sirius, and why Sirius would have come here. He shouldn't leave headquarters.

Remus quickly opened the door, ready to usher Sirius in, when he stopped, seeing Tonks. She hadn't changed back to her normal bright color yet. They stood frozen, staring at one another. Tonks gaze was determined as she moved forward. Her right hand dug into Remus's hair, her lips on his in a moment. Remus's heart pounded, his lips responding, but he held back. He dropped his wand as Tonks moved them inside his apartment, closing the front door with her foot.

Tonks pressed him up against the wall, pulling back and looking up at him, eyes shifting between his. Remus swallowed, his hands reaching out until his fingers framed Tonks's waist. There was a part of him that knew this wasn't right, that it was a poor idea. But the night had not been one where Remus's logic reigned. When Tonks began to lean in again, Remus pulled her to him, feeling her body as he pressed into her sides. Everything moved quickly—feeling took over thought, the heat of bodies took over assumptions, and Tonks took over every other need.

Tonks laid against Remus's chest, his fingers trailing up and down her arm. He would lean in every now and again, brushing his lips against her forehead. But it was tentative. Soft and gentle, but apprehensive. Tonks would anchor herself against him, wrapping her arm more tightly around his middle as they lay wrapped up together on Remus's bed. Light peeked through the curtains, morning well on its way.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Tonks pulled back, looking up. His brow was knit, his fingers still moving in a steady pattern. "Why?" she asked.

"I just…" he paused and swallowed. Remus shook his head, as though shaking off a nightmare before he spoke again. "I know I was... "

"Curmudgeonly?" Tonks asked. Remus gave a half-hearted smile. "It's alright."

"No," Remus said. "I was rude. I was… it's been a hard month. I mean... after the moon... it's been rough. I just…"

Tonks moved up, catching his lips. He hesitated before matching her movements again. Each motion seemed to be a coaxing of Remus into what she knew he wanted. He had never been overt about it, but Tonks had noticed. The way they connected. The way Remus tried to sit near her at dinners. She had waited, trying to let him have his own time and space to ask her out, but he hadn't. She had talked to Sirius about it once. His advice had been to let Remus process.

"It's been so long for him, I doubt he feels comfortable making the move," Sirius said.

And so she waited. And as they kissed, she waited for Remus to hold her fully. And as she pulled back, she kept her face close to his.

"It's fine," she said. Remus licked his lips. "What are you thinking?"

Remus just shook his head, but he didn't let go. He didn't move.

Tonks waited. She laid against his chest and listened to his heart beat, consistent and steady. She closed her eyes. This felt so different from Hancock. She felt so easy. She felt like she could live in this moment forever. Being here with Remus made her forget about all the terrible things out in the world. It made her forget about the war, the problems at work, Hancock watchdogging her, and her mum. It made her forget about all of the bad, because here, they were surrounded only by good.

Remus slouched down, tightening his grip on Tonks. She smiled into him, readjusting as both of their breathing slowed, both of them settled, and soon, they both fell to sleep.

Tonks woke at some point in the mid-afternoon, remembering that she had promised to help Nana hang some curtains on her day off. She wiggled out from Remus's arms, looking down at him as he slept. Without the concerned expression he often wore, he seemed to be younger and more unencumbered. Tonks played with a lock of hair that fell haphazardly across his forehead, then pulled back, searching for her clothes and a piece of paper. She wrote out an explanation, saying she would see him that night at Headquarters, and carefully closed the bedroom door before apparating from the living room and into her grandparent's garden.

She took a deep breath. The smile on her face seemed as though it would be a permanent feature. She kept thinking about the feel of Remus's arms around her. The way his lips grazed her shoulder softly as they drifted off. The way he was still holding her, even after they were fast asleep. She already found herself looking forward to that evening. She had all but forgotten that the night had started with him in such a foul mood (a rarity for Remus).

"Wotcher, Nana, sorry I'm—" Tonks had swung open the door and stopped, watching as her mother was hunched over a sewing machine, fabric waving into her lap as her wand directed the part still under the needle.

The smile wasn't so permanent after all.

"Oh, Dora, you're here!" Nana declared, walking over and holding Tonks's face in her hands, kissing her cheek.

Tonks forced a grin, looking over. "Yes, I'm here. I'm sorry, I lost track of my morning."

"Don't worry, don't worry! Your mum couldn't come until after lunch, so she's just finishing up the hem on them. These windows, you know... I never could find just the right size. Too short or too long."

"We should have helped you with that ages ago," Andromeda said, still looking tentatively at Tonks. "At least, I should have."

Andromeda's brow knit and Tonks looked away.

"Come, have some lunch while she finishes," Nana said. "You need a good meal, Dora. Don't you ever eat?"

Of course lunch started and ended with biscuits, with a few in between bites. She continued to refill a glass of milk and Tonks was surprised at how hungry she actually was. They talked about other updates that were being made. Apparently her dad had come by and helped Grandad build some new shelves.

"And what about that young man I heard about before?" Nana asked.

Tonks's mind first went to Remus, wondering how she could have possibly heard. Then she remembered. "Er, well... he didn't pan out," Tonks said, diplomatically.

"He wasn't good enough for her," Andromeda responded, walking into the kitchen with the curtains folded over her arm. "I could use your help putting these up, Dora."

Tonks took her time putting the dishes into the muggle dishwasher (Nana had never gotten used to her china flying across the room in the process of cleaning) and followed her mum into the back sitting room, where there were two other sets of curtains waiting to be hung on the bay windows of the nook. Tonks pulled out her wand and summoned the bar at the top of the window, floating it just above her as she gathered the opening along the top onto the rod. She was halfway through when she was bumped.

Tonks looked over to where her mother wore a rare, mischievous grin. It looked almost unnatural, that break from the dignified woman Andromeda maintained with such ease. She gave an uncertain shrug, trying to play into Tonks's most playful instincts.

For Sirius she wanted to stay mad. For the injustice of the silence. But what could her mother really have done? Who would have listened to her?

Tonks swallowed. Nana had probably planned this. She was always so smooth at these sort of arrangements, acting the entire time as though it were just coincidence and she, the unknowing participant.

Tonks grinned back, using her wand to send the fabric flying around her mother's legs, which was reciprocated by Andromeda holding onto her arm.

"Nymphadora!" she shouted while giggling. "Stop that!"

The fabric tightened until Andromeda could no longer hold herself up. She kept a grip on Tonks's shoulders, dragging her daughter down to the floor as they both burst into fits of laughter. Tonks's hold on the fabric fell with her wand and Andromeda worked at untangling herself. Tonks stayed down clutching her stomach. Once free, Andromeda laid back down, her face adjacent to Tonks's.

As the giggles subsided, Andromeda's next works came out somberly. "Tell him... tell him, I'm sorry."

Tonks swallowed. Was her mother just guessing? Tonks turned her head and found her eyes met her mother's. Those big, dark eyes with so much thought behind them they must weigh a ton. No, she knew it. She had figured it out. Deduced. It may still just be an educated guess, but she might as well have been told by Tonks herself.

"I will," Tonks said quietly back.

Andromeda leaned over, pressing her lips to Tonks's forehead, then laid back.

Yes, she knew.