Chapter 20: Broken Record

Tonks' robe caught on her heel as she attempted to haul herself up from the ground, causing her boot to slip and decapitate a few bluebells. Once on her feet, she wobbled and pulled her robes tightly back over her chest, breath fluttering the flyaway strands of white hair around her face. She needn't have bothered to adjust herself: Snape only had eyes for Remus. Her old Potions Master stood, black robe rippling a little, face alight with a strange expression: malicious triumph laced with unmistakeable disgust. Remus wasn't looking at either of them. His back was turned towards a knot of trees, one hand at his forehead, frozen.

"Well, this is most unexpected," Snape said, silkily. "Nymphadora, I almost felt the urge to deduct twenty points from Hufflepuff. I suppose it's little wonder the Order of the Phoenix's progress has been so lamentably poor lately given that its members seem to be thus…distracted."

Though it was Tonks he had addressed, Snape's gaze was still burning a hole in the back of Remus' neck.

"Alright, alright - you've out-snided yourself," said Tonks. "You can skulk away now."

But Snape continued on, black eyes gleaming, as if she hadn't even spoken,

"I suppose a display of - shall we say - animalistic tendencies shouldn't be entirely unexpected given your condition, but I have to say that even I expected better from you…Professor Lupin."

Tonks saw Remus wince: his shoulders contracting, his head bowing lower. Snape's lip curled - he knew he'd struck the killer blow.

"Piss off, Snape!"

Their eyes finally met and she glared her sharpest daggers at him. With an air of unhurried satisfaction, he turned and glided away down the path, like a bat through the trees, a black vacuum of light. Tonks marched immediately over to Remus.

"Let's get out of here."

She hugged him from behind, looping her arms around his waist. He stiffened as she did so and, even as she apparated them from the spot, he felt brittle in her arms, like he could snap and pieces of him drop away at any moment. When their feet hit ground again, they were in the shade of a jetty, surrounded by barnacled wooden stilts, smelling the fresh-yet-sour air of a Thames-side beach. The first place that had popped into Tonks' mind, it was where Nana Tonks would sometimes take her mudlarking as a child. The river looked beautiful: blue and glittering, the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf standing tall across the bend, gulls soaring above in the cloudless expanse. But Remus barely looked around him: he strode away from Tonks, out into the sunlight, eyes down, hand roving through his hair again and again. Tonks hurried after him across the sand.

"Well, that's our chance to win the House Cup down the drain."

Remus wheeled around. The look on his face made her regret the joke instantly.

"Sorry," Tonks said, wearing what she knew was an awkward, lop-sided smile. "I'm just trying to…make you feel better. Look, I know that was brutal - Snape's a total git - but everything's going to be okay."

"No, it's not."

"Of course it - "

"No."

Remus was shaking his head, the colour entirely drained from his face, the bright sunlight making the grey in his hair glint.

"And there's no point pretending otherwise. Don't you understand? Snape won't waste this opportunity to twist the knife. He will tell the entire Order, I'm certain of it."

"He might," Tonks said, slowly, as if trying to talk Remus down from a ledge. "But equally he might not. Don't you think he's got bigger things to be getting on with than gossiping about you?"

"You don't know him like I do. You don't know the extent of the grudge he holds. He'll use this as a weapon to hurt me, but it's going to hurt you worst of all. We should never have been so careless. It's only a matter of time until everyone knows."

Tonks put her hands on Remus' shoulders, holding him in place.

"So?" She said.

Her heart was racing, but the memory of Snape's pallid disapproval felt more and more irrelevant with each second. It was happening; the conversation they needed to have.

"Would that really be so terrible?"

Remus' eyes widened, he swallowed, floundering to find a response.

"I don't understand," he managed.

Tonks took a deep breath and found his hand. His fingers were cold and limp, but she squeezed them nonetheless.

"I've been thinking that it's probably time for us to tell the Order anyway. I know that you've wanted to wait but…um…"

Tonks trailed off. Remus' hand had slipped out of hers, apparently unconsciously, as he took a jerky step backwards. The buzz of excitement in her belly was changing shape and cold worms of anxiety seemed to be wriggling there instead. Words were bubbling up in her brain, but she didn't seem to be able to put them in the right order.

"I mean, yeah, it….it made sense to keep everything on the down low at first, when it was all new, but now….well it's kind of silly isn't it? To be sneaking around?"

Remus didn't answer.

"Don't you think?" Tonks prompted.

A pause. And then,

"Why would you want anyone to know that you were sleeping with a werewolf?"

The self-loathing that hung in every syllable of his whispered words hit Tonks like a stunner to the gut. She could no longer hear the lapping of the river or the distant sound of traffic.

"I'm sleeping with Remus Lupin," she said, as slowly and deliberately as she could.

"One and the same."

"Don't say that!"

"It's the truth."

"You aren't your condition!"

"There's no other way to look at it."

Tonks forced her tone into gentleness though her nails dug into her palm. She stepped closer to him.

"The rest of the Order aren't like Snape. They're your friends. They accept you and care about you. They're not going to judge us. It might not even be that much of a surprise to some of them - I reckon Molly's suspected something for a while and Mad Eye's way more perceptive about this stuff than you'd think. There are no good reasons for us not to take the plunge and just…I dunno...announce it!"

"There are a thousand good reasons not to do that."

Tonks flung her head back and groaned.

"This is all because of Snape!" She cried in frustration. "He's freaked you out exactly like he wanted to with that stupid professor comment. Yes you two are the same age and yes he taught me potions, but he was the youngest professor by far when I was there. Unusually young! The most important thing is that the age difference between us doesn't matter to me. It's just numbers - it's completely meaningless."

"It isn't meaningless. And it's hardly the only reason - "

"You're a werewolf!" She said, voice rising out of her control. "I know and I don't care! I've told you this so many times, I'm like a bloody broken record, I don't care!"

"But you should care," he said, glancing quickly around, his voice less than half the volume of hers. "If this became public knowledge…the repercussions for you…"

Tonks stared at Remus as his words faded away into nothingness. He was shrinking away from her, strain in every aspect of his body language.

"Are you ashamed?" She asked.

"Not of you, Tonks. Never of you."

Dora. He was supposed to say Dora.

Tonks grit her teeth. She'd spent weeks yearning for him, weeks fantasising about how their relationship was going to grow, and he was throwing it all back in her face. Tonks had never been a patient person, but she'd waited. Tonks had never been a sensible person, but she'd tempered herself. All for him. Keeping her voice steady was like trying to prevent a lit firework from exploding as she pressed on:

"But you're ashamed of what we have?"

"I….It's…difficult to explain…"

"Too complicated for me, is it?"

"No…that's not what I mean…"

"What do you mean?"

"A proper relationship with me would be catastrophic for you."

"Wow," said Tonks, taking short sharp breaths, pacing rivets into the sand, squashing bits of plastic under her boots. "Wow. And here's me under the crazy impression that we were already in a proper relationship."

Remus only stared at her, eyes wide. Her questions came like catapults.

"So what? Has this all been casual to you?"

"No Tonks, it's - "

"Just us 'sleeping together' as you put it? No strings attached!"

"No! Please don't - "

"Or do you think it's just some kind of fling - a dark creature phase I'm going through - until I get a better offer and go off to shag someone else?"

Remus hesitated. Tonks reeled with the insult of it.

"You seriously think I would ever - " she banged her sternum with the heel of her hand " - do that to you? You seriously think that this - " her hands waved wildly back and forward between them " - isn't extraordinary? Because it is! And you're a flipping idiot if you don't realise that!"

"I - I didn't know that was how you felt," Remus rasped, his voice barely audible.

"And how exactly do you feel?"

"How I feel isn't important."

"It's pretty damn important to me."

Remus shook his head, mouth clamped shut.

"Tell me!"

"A real relationship with me would ostracise you from the whole of society. Surely you can see that? The Order would find it difficult enough to accept, let alone your friends and family if they ever found out. They would be utterly horrified, they -"

"My friends and family are not bigoted!" Tonks snapped. "How dare - "

"I'm not talking about bigotry - though there's plenty enough of that around to make your life miserable - there's a huge difference between wanting legal equality for werewolves and wanting your only daughter to bring one home!"

"They'd want me to be happy!"

"Of course they would, that's entirely my point - you wouldn't, you couldn't ever be, happy with me. I have nothing to offer, hardly a sickle to my name, barely more than the robes on my back and a dilapidated hovel, the only thing standing between me and destitution is Sirius' generosity - "

"I don't give a shit about money - !"

"Money is the least of it! It pales in comparison to the fact that I'm infectious, that being with me means risking mutilation once every month. Not to mention that if the Ministry found out, you could lose your position as an Auror - "

"But that's exactly what we're fighting against! We're trying to build a better world, aren't we?"

" - the job that you've devoted your life to, that you are exceptional at, and for what purpose? So you could hold onto a relationship that tethers you, sets you apart from the people you love, with a threat hanging over your head all the while? That's what a proper relationship with me would mean and you deserve incalculably more than that. So of course everyone would judge us - how could they not?"

Tonks didn't have the strength to shout back this time. She understood what he was saying and it felt like a hair-line crack through her heart.

"Sounds to me like you're the one who thinks we shouldn't be together."

A salty lump was collecting at the back of her throat. Her eyes burned. Silence was the worst possible response she could receive from him, but that was what she was getting. She seemed to have lost control of her chin, it wobbled. She stared hard at two bright pebbles at her feet: she wouldn't cry, she refused to cry, but if she kept looking at his face - that enigmatic face she adored, both young and old, weary and handsome, now looking bloodless and panicked - she would crumble. She gave him two more seconds until she had no other choice.

"You are fucking unbelievable," she croaked.

She pulled her wand out of her robe and promptly dropped it. She ducked down and seized it back up, a tear dropping onto the sand as she did so, before straightening up quickly, wiping her face furiously.

"Wait. Tonks, please…."

But those three words weren't enough. Tonks' wand slashed the air and she was gone.

—

Tonks apparated straight from the riverside to her communal staircase, blasting open the door to her apartment and slamming it so hard behind her that the timber trembled, no thought spared for Josephine Drudge in the flat below. She stomped across the floorboards, the skeletons of Mildred's unlucky nightly victims getting crushed beneath her feet; the spines and skulls of various voles, mice and Merlin knew what else quickly reduced to dust. One minute she railed against Snape, the next against Remus and, finally, against herself. But no matter how she looked at it, everything circled back to the same truth: Remus didn't see a future between them. They'd never really moved on from that night in the library. She was still fighting to prove herself, her heart offered up for the taking, whilst he was still clinging onto his demons for dear life. All the intimacy they'd shared; the life-and-death trust they'd built in one another; the small gestures, secret smiles and belly laughs; the core-rumbling, life affirming sex…none of it had been enough for him.

At first, all Tonks could do was cry. Eventually she forced herself to scratch out reports, trying to take refuge in the completion of her duty - one official report to Kingsley, one unofficial coded report to Mad Eye - though her quill threatened to puncture the parchment more than once and the ink smudged. When she had finished, she threw her quill aside: there was no one else she could write to. Rules of Order secrecy aside, how could she even begin to explain this mess to any of her old friends? Their days of laughing about casual romantic entanglements in dormitories were long gone. And her parents? No chance. Tonks felt an uncomfortable twinge that she didn't want to examine too closely - could Remus be right? Would they all reject him on principle? The thought sent her into another spiral: she stood under the shower for so long that her skin wrinkled, she mulled and raged for hours, she kept checking the window for a letter she knew wouldn't come. Until, finally, she pulled her patchwork quilt over her head and tried to sleep.

It was long-dark, the bleakest hours of the night, when Tonks raised her pounding head, giving up. Her temples throbbed. Her cheeks were crusted with salt. Her eyelids felt three times their natural size. She didn't know how much time had passed since she'd flung herself into the oblivion of her pillow, but she'd never quite slept, only rolled and tangled herself up, phrases and angry snippets from the argument crawling around her head. It was only as she dragged her feet out of the hot bed and onto the floor, that the worst of her anger began to drop away and a little clarity came: she probably shouldn't have flown off the handle. Tonks wiped her nose with her wrist.

Dust had gathered on the old vinyl player since she'd been away: she blew on it, the cloud tickling her nose, and ran her hand over the smooth top. She'd been naive when he'd given this to her, she could see that now. He'd gifted her what was, she knew - having seen the bare cupboards of his bedroom - his most precious possession and she'd accepted it without question, believing it an indisputable, romantic clue to his true feelings. But she'd been wrong: the only reason Remus gave it to her was because he cared about her more than he cared about himself; because he wanted to make her smile even if it meant cutting away a part of himself. Tonks stood up. She couldn't let Remus break both their hearts. Convincing him he was worthy - and that her personal choice was worth something - was going to be a much longer road than she could ever have anticipated. But - Tonks looked down at the tiny markings on her inner finger, the 'R' crossed with the 'T' - when had she ever shied away from a challenge before?

She padded out of her bedroom to the kitchen and leant over the sink to throw open the window, sticking her head out. The breeze, still warm despite the lateness of the hour, soothed her. The sound of the city was strengthening: she drew the air, laced with the familiar taste of traffic fumes, into her lungs. She needed to dig deep; to find the tenacity that always helped her dig her heels in when the going got tough. She pulled her head back inside and turned on the tap, sucking water from the stream, before letting it run all over her face. No more tears. No more wallowing. Tonks found some robes, pulled them over her pyjamas and vanished with a crack.

—

Twelve Grimmauld Place was heavy with memory. The eyes of the hallway's oil paintings followed her as Tonks, shoe-less and concentrating, sidestepped the troll-leg umbrella stand, succeeded in avoiding the creaking third stair, and quietly made her way up into the growing dark of the higher levels of the house. When she reached Remus' door, she tapped her knuckles softly on the wood. Silence.

"He's not there."

Tonks swore, crunching her socked-toes against the door as she jumped.

"Sirius! You scared the living daylights out of me!"

He was peering at her through the gloom: leaning a shoulder against the wall, the hollows below his cheekbones accentuated by flickering candle-glow, his eyes an inky black. For a second, he looked as though he had only just crawled out from his old cell.

"What are you doing awake?"

Sirius shrugged.

"Sleep doesn't always come easy to this household."

"Yeah….I've noticed that…"

Tonks bit her lip. She was about to ask if Sirius was feeling okay, before he spoke first,

"Moony's on the roof."

"He's - what? On the roof?"

"Been there hours. He came back late, all rattled, wouldn't tell me what was wrong. What happened?"

"We had a row."

"Do you need me to bang your heads together?"

Tonks didn't have the energy to laugh. Anxiety weighed on her at the thought of Remus somewhere above them, all alone on the roof.

"It was bad, mate. Really bad."

Sirius sighed, the sarcasm fading from his face.

"Tell me. Maybe I can help."

Tonks told Sirius everything. Though the candles on the walls burnt low, she could see by the tendons that rose in his forearms that his fist was wrapped around the wand in his pocket.

"Right, so it's Snivellus' fault. He really is a prize cunt."

"You're not wrong, Sirius, but...I dunno...Snape wound him up with those pathetic insults, true, but Remus meant every word he said, I could tell. All these reasons why we're supposedly wrong for each other just came pouring out of him - " Tonks began counting them out on her fingers, " - he's penniless, I'd lose my job, he's too old for me, my parents would go nuts if they knew, he's a danger to be around…I already knew those things bothered him of course but…this whole time I thought we were getting somewhere - even if it was at a snail's pace - instead it turns out he's been in some weird limbo, waiting for me to dump him at any moment. Has he ever talked to you about it?"

"He's a pretty private person. Always has been. I can't pretend I'm surprised he had that reaction though - he's never believed your feelings for him would last. My hope was that over time, he'd start to realise the truth - that you two are bloody great together - and accept it before something happened that would make him panic and kickstart every masochistic, noble prat impulse he has."

"Something like Snape apparating in on us getting off with each other?"

"I hadn't foreseen that specifically, but yeah. As much as I hate to say it, it might not have been the smartest moment you could have chosen to ask him to be your boyfriend."

Tonks glared.

"I told you to go gently, didn't I?"

"Fine," said Tonks, grinding her molars together. "But you didn't tell me he was the most infuriating man on the planet!"

"I thought that went without saying."

"Well, I'm in a right pickle now aren't I? He's as good as told me there's no future."

"Don't believe that for a second. Being with you is Remus' dream come true. The problem is that he's a self sabotaging idiot who's convinced you can do better."

"I don't care that he's a werewolf," Tonks said wearily, fingernails raking her hair.

"I believe you, mate. But I'm not the one you need to convince," Sirius said, his tone almost pitying. "I never said it was going to be easy. You'll get there…gradually."

"But I'm rubbish at doing things gradually! Merlin knows I've tried tiptoeing around, but I can't help saying what I believe - even when my foot's in my mouth and my words are as subtle as bricks - it's who I am! Is this how it's always going to be with me and him? Me having to constantly be on my best behaviour, walking a tightrope between giving him enough affection to soothe his insecurities, but not so much that he bolts? Keeping everything secret like it's something shameful, when I know it's not?"

Sirius looked grave.

"Don't give up on him, Tonks."

Tonks smiled, a little sadly.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to."

She could see in Sirius' face that he knew exactly what she meant. He no longer looked like he'd just dragged himself out of a sun-deprived hole in Azkaban: life shone in his eyes and his smile was youthful and handsome. He gripped her shoulder and kissed her forehead; all scratchy beard and old whisky. Tonks felt warmth spreading inside her, considering all the strange twists that had brought them both to this point: two blooms of the Black family tree, one blasted off, one never even stitched, together now in the decaying, ancestral home.

"Go and get him."

Sirius clapped her on the shoulder, then slipped away down the stairs as Tonks continued up them. Her hands stroked the dark mahogany bannisters as she ascended, getting closer and closer to Remus. Somewhere in a distant corner of one of the rooms she passed, she could hear a rattle: doxies perhaps, or a boggart, or Kreacher up to no good. The house was untameable - but aren't we all, Tonks thought.

She succeeded in easing herself through the window and onto the roof without generating the usual level of clatter that would announce her presence. She saw Remus' frame: a murky silhouette against the yellow lights of Islington, the silver and red spots of distant skyscrapers, the hazy cityscape. He was completely still.

"I'd like to be alone, Sirius. Please."

Tonks said nothing but raised her wand. A rainbow of bright, blinking streamers of light flowed from it out towards Remus. They exploded quietly above his head, sparks dropping down like rain around him where he lent on the ledge. He turned, face lit by their glow, disbelief in his eyes. Neither spoke but Tonks knew they were both thinking of that first touch of lips. Tonks felt older now, but her desire hadn't waned. She'd do whatever it took to convince him.

"Come inside with me," she whispered.

She held her hand out to him. He didn't move. He stood with the wind ruffling his hair, staring transfixed at her face, as if not trusting his eyes that she had really come. She didn't drop her hand until he finally took it, his fingers like ice.

—

Tonks took off her robes in silence, then slipped beneath the sheets of Remus' bed, feeling the coolness of the fabric against her legs, all bare in her snidget-patterned pyjama shorts. Remus didn't join her. He sat on the edge looking down at his clasped hands.

"Sorry for calling you a flipping idiot," she said to the back of his head.

"I deserved it," he replied, without turning. "I deserved all of it."

Tonks fought down a crinkle of annoyance: did he have to constantly revert back to self pity; did she always have to stay jaunty and steadfast through it all to keep them on track? They were too tired to have this conversation.

"Let's not talk now. Come and lie down with me," she said, sitting up to reach over and rub his shoulder, which shivered strangely beneath her touch - almost a flinch.

"Just to sleep," she added. "We can dream away our troubles for a bit, how's that?"

Remus relented. Silently, he removed his robes and shoes and took his place in the bed beside her. Tonks didn't comment on the fact that he kept every other item of clothing on: shirt, trousers, all. He lay staring at the ceiling. Tonks turned onto her side and wriggled closer to him. She kissed the cotton of his shoulder, unable to help it. She'd missed him so much. After a few more minutes of silence, he turned onto his side so they faced each other. Tonks touched her forehead against his.

"Will you hold me?" She asked.

Slowly his arms encircled her. Tonks let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd held.

"It's okay if you're not ready," she whispered. "I'll wait."

A long pause.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you," he said.

"We'll work everything out," she said, giving his thin frame a squeeze. "Sirius himself told me not to give up on you and - "

"Sirius said that?"

If there was a sudden edge to Remus' voice, Tonks didn't notice it: her mind was beginning to shut down with relief at the cessation of their cross words, the warmth of his arms, the heady, familiar smell she'd longed for.

"Yeah. And I don't intend to."

It wasn't long before Tonks drifted away into sleep. Remus held her all night until the sun rose, his eyes wet, praying that his pounding heart and uneven breathing wouldn't wake her.