AN: This chapter gets quite dark. Strong violence, mentions of rape, etc. Please skip to the non-italicized text if you would rather not read it xx
She landed, weightless, on the ground next to an unspeakably beautiful young woman. This could be no one but Fleur's mother – long blond hair and graceful limbs exemplifying her veela heritage. But her perfect skin was stained with earth, her cheeks scratched and bleeding, her blue eyes wide with terror. One trembling hand rested on her heavily pregnant stomach, and the other held a small girl to the ground beside her.
"Shhhh," she whispered shakily, rubbing the girl's back with her thumb. "Calme, ma chérie…"
They were huddled amidst a mass of tangled brambles. Dim light barely filtered through the dense bushes. She could hear shouting in the distance, the vague sound of men talking. Then footsteps crunched on gravel nearby, growing steadily closer. Fleur's mother stiffened, flattening herself as best she could to the ground beside her daughter. She pulled a long, thin wand out of a leather holster on her leg, holding it at the ready.
The footsteps were slow, uncertain. They stopped right in front of the Delacours' hiding place, and there was a painful silence. The young woman's eyes were shut tightly, her mouth moving in what Tonks could only assume were silent prayers. Then the branches parted above them and a boy stuck his head through the brambles.
"Wha' you doin' 'ere?"
Tonks knew he was ten, yet he looked even younger. His face was thin, the bones standing out from under filthy skin. His hair might have once been blond but it was now a matted mop of dirty brown. Golden eyes practically shone through the gloom, and the young woman brandished her wand at him. But he summoned it before she could even begin to utter a spell, catching it deftly with one hand. She cried out and shrank backwards, pulling her daughter with her.
"Va-t-en! Va-t-en, ne nous blesse pas! S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît…"
She trailed off with a choked sob, and Tonks's stomach twisted. But the boy – David, Remus, whoever he was right now – just cocked his head, as though confused.
"I'm not gonna 'urt you," he almost laughed. "We're 'ere ta help."
Silence greeted this statement, broken only by the faint whimpering of three-year old Fleur. The pregnant young woman just stared, uncomprehending, at the boy. His brow furrowed.
"D'you speak English? 'Fraid I don't know French."
His Yorkshire accent – so subtle as an adult that it was almost nonexistent – was now prominent, his voice high and unbroken. There were no scars running down his left cheek, and his expression was shockingly open, unguarded in a way that Tonks had only recently been privileged enough to witness. A few months ago, she would have struggled to believe that Remus Lupin ever looked quite this innocent.
Fleur's mother still had not responded. The boy's face twisted with concern.
"Look… you're safe now. Alright? The Ministry can't get to you, they'll never break through my wards. You can come out."
Still the woman refused to move. With a frustrated noise, the boy pushed his way into the bushes and crouched down so his eyes were level with hers. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt that looked older than he was, threadbare green fabric practically swamping his body. Baggy gym shorts fell to below his knees, and frighteningly skinny legs led to tattered Converse sneakers that were about four sizes too big for him. A thorn caught the skin of his forearm, ripping open a bleeding gash. But he barely seemed to notice, settling down on his haunches and wrapping his arms around his knees. He contemplated the frightened woman for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision.
"D'you want a fag?"
He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a squashed box of cigarettes. As he flipped it open, Tonks could see his fingers trembling. It reminded her a little too much of the withdrawal symptoms David had only just gotten over. He pulled a cigarette out with his mouth, then offered the box to the woman. She looked down at it incredulously, and the boy's lips pulled into a familiar, crooked smile.
"Go on," he cajoled, waving the box back and forth. "They always make me feel better."
The woman hesitated a moment longer, then tentatively reached out and took a cigarette from the pack. The boy stretched his other hand forward, but she flinched away from him.
"I'm just lighting it for you," he assured her. He snapped his thumb and middle finger beneath the end of her cigarette, and a burst of blue flame set the tip alight. Fleur gasped at the sight, her eyes wide in her small face. The boy smiled at her and did it again, this time catching the flame in his palm and holding it there. The tiny girl giggled and reached forward.
"Non," her mother hissed, pulling her back. "Ne touche pas."
"'s alright," the boy said, shaking his head. "It won't hurt her."
But the young woman did not release her child. The boy shrugged and sat back on his haunches, lifting the flame to light his own cigarette. He took a long, practiced drag, golden eyes fixed on the two part-veelas in front of him. Smoke curled from his nostrils, followed suddenly by blood.
"Shit," he muttered, pulling the cigarette from his lips and running the back of his hand across his bleeding nose. "Bugger, fucking shit."
He let out a frustrated groan, pinching hard at the top of his nostrils and leaning his head back.
"… sorry," he said, voice muffled. "This happens sometimes."
"You are magically exhausted."
The woman had a thick accent, but she clearly spoke English well. The boy blinked down his nose at her.
"… erm… I - I 'spose so."
"You cast the wards that are keeping us here?"
"Uhh… aye. But… 's not to keep you here. 's to keep bloody Minions out."
"… Minions?"
"The Ministry," he snapped, as though she was being particularly slow. "You know – the arseholes wit' badges? They're on their way now, but we got 'ere first."
The young woman looked as confused as Tonks felt.
"The… European Ministry for Magic?"
"And the Brits."
"But why would they come here?"
The flow of blood from the boy's nose had slowed to a trickle. He wiped his face on his sleeve and stuck the cigarette back between his lips.
"You thick?" he demanded out of the corner of his mouth. "They wanna recruit you. They want veelas in their army. Send you out beginning of a battle, distract us with your…"
He made a vague gesture to her entire body, looking rather out of his depth. Despite the situation, Tonks almost snorted with laughter.
"… hair, or summat," he finished awkwardly. "Who knows why they do anything. All I know is, you don't have to worry about it anymore."
The young woman lifted her cigarette to her mouth. Beside her, Fleur spoke up for the first time.
"Maman, ne pas fumer! Papa a dit - "
"Chut!" the woman hushed, pulling the little girl closer to her side. Her gaze was fixed on the boy in front of her, eyes wary and calculating. They flickered over his body, probably looking for her wand, but there was no sign of it.
"What is your name, little boy?"
"I'm not a little boy," he snarled. "I'm head of Lupin clan. I'm going to be a Reaper soon. The Dark Lord himself chose me."
Tonks had to give Fleur's mother credit. Her face betrayed very little of the terror that such words must have inspired.
"Forgive me," she said, voice soft. "I do not understand your customs. What is your name?"
He glared at her for a moment before answering.
"Remus."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Remus. My name is Apolline. This is my daughter, Fleur," she gestured to the girl beside her, then to her own stomach. "And this is my other daughter, Gabrielle."
Some of the anger had left Remus's eyes. He nodded to Fleur and gazed curiously at Apolline's pregnant belly.
"There's a… baby in there?"
"Yes. Do you want to feel her? She's very active right now."
She reached forward and took the boy's free hand. He let her press it into her stomach, right above her belly button. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he jumped, eyes widening as he snatched his hand back.
"It moved!"
Apolline gave him a weak, watery smile.
"Yes. She's alive in there."
Remus finished his cigarette, stamping it out on the ground as he continued to stare at her stomach.
"… that's mental," he finally muttered, sounding very much like a normal ten-year old.
"So…" Apolline ventured, only the smallest tremor noticeable in her voice, "you think the Ministry is going to… kidnap us?"
"They'll try," he replied, grinning, "but they won't succeed. You're under the Dark Lord's protection now."
"… oh. And… what does that mean?"
Remus blinked at her, nonplussed.
"It – it means you're safe. He won't let anything bad happen to you."
Apolline paused, clearly choosing her next words carefully.
"… that's good. And… you won't let anything bad happen to us either."
The boy's small chest puffed up indignantly.
"'Course not! I'm the strongest wizard in the Lothians. Just stick with me, I'll protect you."
Apolline gave him another weak smile.
"Thank you, Remus."
His answering smile was broad and confident. Then he made to stand, brushing dirt off the back of his gym shorts.
"Come on," he said, gesturing them forward. "Let's get out of 'ere."
But Apolline's hand wrapped around his thin wrist, holding him in place.
"No! Please!"
He yanked himself free.
"It's fine!" he insisted, anger once again coloring his words. "Nobody's gonna hurt you!"
"Can you guarantee that?" she hissed. "Can you look me in the face and tell me they will not hurt my babies?"
"Yes!"
"Even if my people refuse to bow to your Lord?"
Remus froze, mouth open in silent shock. Then he slowly crouched down again, hard eyes flickering between hers.
"You… you refuse to swear loyalty to the Dark Lord?"
"He is an evil man," she spat. "He kills innocent people for sport."
"He does not! He kills only the guilty – "
"All those Muggles at the music festival last week? Or the family he murdered in Paris? What were they guilty of?"
The boy's expression faltered.
"What are you talking about?"
"You are an honorable young man," Apolline beseeched, grabbing his hand with both of hers. "I can tell that already. They are lying to you, Remus – "
He threw her hands down in disgust and leapt to his feet.
"You're the one who's lying!" he cried. "The Dark Lord wouldn't kill someone who didn't deserve it. He isn't like the Ministry. He'll bring an end to the suffering of my people, of your people. Don't pretend they haven't hurt you, too. They control you, they force you to live here! They make you hide your powers, they abuse you for even having 'em!"
"And how is the Dark Lord any better?" Apolline demanded, her voice hushed and urgent. "In exchange for protection, he will make us fight in his army. He will whore my people out to the likes of Greyback and Malfoy. We will be slaves, Remus. Just like you."
The boy's eyes flashed. Then one of his small, filthy hands was whipping through the air, smacking Apolline so hard in the face that she was thrown to the ground. Fleur immediately started crying.
"I am not a slave," the boy snarled, teeth bared. "Take it back."
Apolline huddled in front of her daughter, one hand pressed to her cheek. Remus loomed over her, shoulders heaving.
"Take it back!" he repeated, and his voice cracked.
"I will not," the woman whispered. "I will not lie to you like the others do."
The boy took one step forward and crouched down again, pulling Apolline around by the shoulders. He shook her violently, as though he could rattle the words he wanted out of her like a missing part from a broken toy. But her lips remained stubbornly shut, her eyes hard. He stopped, fingers twisting in the fabric of her blouse as he glared at her resentfully. Fleur was still wailing, her cries high-pitched and sure to attract attention.
Then he was standing up, bringing his thumb and forefinger together in a shushing motion. The little girl stopped crying abruptly, leaving only the rhythmic chirp of cicadas to fill the silence. The boy stared down at Apolline and Fleur, and Tonks struggled to reconcile the fact that he now held their lives in his hand as surely as he'd held the flame.
"Please," he whispered. "Swear your loyalty to the Dark Lord. He can help you."
"He helps no one but himself."
"That isn't true," he snapped. "He promised me justice. The Ministry killed my mum and dad and locked me up. They turned me into a monster, they pumped me full of aconite and silver and cut my arm off six fucking times. All so they could learn how to murder my people more efficiently."
"Then I am truly sorry for you. But you must know that he will not give you justice. He may give you revenge, but only on his terms. And in return, he will want your soul."
For a long moment, they stared at each other across the small clearing. Neither of them looked ready to back down. But then the boy stiffened. He cocked his head to the left, eyes distant as he listened to something nobody else could hear. Tonks tried to read his expressions, but a familiar, emotionless mask had fallen over his features. All she could glean from him was a faint sense of unease. Finally, his eyes refocused on the woman at his feet. Tonks could see the wheels turning in his head, but she couldn't begin to tell what he was thinking.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. Then he lifted the back of his shirt and pulled her wand out of the waistband of his shorts. He held it out to her handle first, giving it an impatient twitch when she just stared at him incredulously.
"I can get you through the wards. But you have to trust me. You have to do exactly what I say."
Apolline hesitated, one hand tightening on Fleur's shoulder. Then she drew in a deep breath and grabbed her wand.
"Thank you, Remus."
The boy didn't reply, his lips pulling into a grim line. Then he turned and crept to the edge of the brambles, peering out from between the thorns.
"Follow me. Stay close."
He darted out of the bushes. Apolline grabbed Fleur's hand and peeked out as well. Tonks found herself floating along beside them, weightless and unable to control her own movements. Witnessing pensieve memories was always a bizarre experience.
The world outside the bushes was growing dim, twilight swiftly approaching. They were on a narrow lane on the outskirts of a small town, stone buildings packed haphazardly up the side of a rocky hill. The sky was a deep blue, shimmering with the tell-tale sign of an anti-Apparition dome ward. Apolline hauled Fleur into her arms and hurried down the lane after Remus.
"Where is everyone?" she hissed when she caught up. He didn't look at her, eyes sweeping from the tall bushes on the left side of the lane to the steep gully on the right.
"T'other side of town, mostly," he muttered. "You chose a good hiding place."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he was hauling her by the arm back into the bushes. Tonks winced at the sound of brambles tearing at their clothes. Fleur was still quiet, indicating that Remus's silencing charms were a force to be reckoned with.
They huddled against the ground for several minutes, the only sound the occasional sniff from Remus. Suddenly, the boy froze.
"Shit," he breathed. "It's Romulus."
Then he was fumbling with the front of his gym shorts, hands shaking. Tonks, Apolline and Fleur all blinked at him, utterly bewildered.
"… 'm sorry," he muttered, avoiding the young woman's gaze. "I have to do this. Otherwise he'll smell you."
With that, he leapt out onto the lane. They heard his feet shuffling against the gravel for a moment… and then liquid began to shower down through the bushes. Appoline clapped a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, pulling Fleur against her chest. Tonks gaped incredulously. He was pissing on them.
Heavy footsteps were now audible, approaching swiftly. The shower of urine had only just come to a halt when a deep voice called out down the lane.
"Lupin! The fuck you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"McIntyre know you're pissing about on the job?"
"I did my part, wazzock. Why don't you go do yours?"
"This is my part, mudblood. Making sure you stick to the plan. We don't want a repeat of Edinburgh, do we?"
"I didn't know the office had a side door, knob head. That wasn't my fault."
"Well, then. Shall we go check there aren't any… side doors you may have missed? The Ministry already got to this lot, they proved uncooperative. The others are taking care of 'em."
"… taking care of 'em?"
"Liquidating. Eliminating. Annihilating. Dispatching. You've a problem with that?"
"You could have just said killing. No need to be so fancy about it."
The older werewolf let out a rough chuckle, and Tonks heard the muffled sound of a large hand meeting a narrow shoulder.
"Come on. I'll help you patrol the perimeter."
They headed off in the direction Remus had been leading Apolline, footsteps fading slowly into silence. Tonks watched the young woman's profile, examining every movement of her features as she contemplated her options. Tonks knew what she would do in this situation. Sit tight in a pool of werewolf urine and wait for the packs to go away. If a magically exhausted ten-year old had disarmed her that easily, Apolline had no hope of fighting off a fully-grown werewolf. Especially with a toddler in tow.
However, Tonks watched helplessly as the young woman poked her head out of the bushes. She looked down the lane. The edge of the anti-Apparition ward was in sight, the air shimmering above the ground. Remus and the other werewolf were nowhere to be seen.
Apolline was either braver than Tonks, stupider than Tonks, or so terrified she'd lost the ability to think clearly. She hauled Fleur back into her arms and stumbled into the lane, setting off towards the ward at a dead run. Her feet pounded on the gravel, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Tonks winced sympathetically at the sight of her pregnant stomach swaying from side to side.
The angry shout came as no surprise. A tall, rangy figure was racing along the edge of the anti-Apparition ward, moving at inhuman speed. Apolline let out a ragged, desperate sob and tried to make her feet move faster. But there was no hope. The werewolf intercepted her on the lane, ripping Fleur from her arms and throwing the child to the ground.
"Stupe – "
Apolline's wand flew from her hand, and the tall man snapped it like a twig. Tonks couldn't help but let out a horrified cry that no one could hear. The werewolf advancing on the young woman was truly terrifying. Shoulder-length black hair fell in unwashed strings about an unkempt face, golden eyes glowing in the darkness. His lips pulled back to reveal teeth that had been filed into points and his fingernails were long, either transfigured or naturally formed to look – and act – like claws.
"What have we here?" he almost purred, stalking his prey. "A pretty little bird, to be sure."
He grabbed Appoline's face, claws digging into soft skin. The young woman whimpered, scrabbling uselessly at his hand.
"Fuyez, Fleur!" she sobbed. "Fuyez!"
But the werewolf grabbed the little girl by the hair, hoisting her bodily into the air. Fleur struggled, but still no sound escaped her lips.
"And a morsel!" the man laughed. "Mudblood! Come look what I caught!"
Remus stepped into the lane, amber eyes fixed warily on the unhappy tableau.
"Shall we keep them?" the man suggested, shooting him a fierce grin. "They'd make excellent nosh on full moon."
Tonks barely had time to comprehend that truly disgusting statement before Remus was speaking, every word calm and measured.
"Let them go, Rom."
There was a brief silence. Then the man scoffed.
"Why should I?"
"Because I said so."
To Tonks's surprise, Romulus actually did as he was told. He lowered Fleur back to the ground and released Apolline's face, pushing her backwards. She fell to her knees, arms immediately reaching for her terrified daughter. Meanwhile, the tall man rounded on Remus.
"You don't give me orders, mudblood."
"I just did."
Rom lunged for the boy, but Remus ducked out of the way with the ease of practice. Hard eyes followed the older werewolf's every move.
"You shouldn't have broken her wand, arsehole. You've no chance against me without one."
"Maybe when you're fresh," the man hissed. "But I saw you cast the wards. Your nose was bleeding. You've nothing left."
He lunged again. Remus evaded him, but it was closer this time. Tonks could see a flicker of alarm in the boy's wooden features.
"What d'you want with them, anyhow?" Romulus demanded, gesturing angrily at Apolline and Fleur. "They smell like your piss, you were hiding them from me."
Cruel realization dawned in his eyes and his lips curled into a frightening smile.
"… oh, I see. You were saving 'em for later. The mongrel wants to get his little prick wet."
He laughed harshly and walked back to the huddled family on the ground. He grabbed Fleur by the hair again and dragged her, kicking and silently screaming, away from her mother. With a lurid wink, he threw the toddler at Remus's feet.
"That one's 'bout the right size for you. I'll show you how it's done on this one, eh?"
He pointed a clawed finger at Apolline, whose bloodshot, desperate eyes were fixed pleadingly on Remus. The man grabbed a handful of her hair and shoved her head down, pressing her face into the gravel as he got to his knees behind her. Her pregnant stomach pressed unhealthily into the ground and she let out a miserable sob.
"Thanks for wearing a skirt, whore," Romulus growled nastily. "Makes my job easier."
He glanced up, noticing that the boy had not moved.
"Go on, mate!" he snapped, gesturing to the girl who was now huddled in the middle of the lane, tears streaming down her face. "Get your end in."
Remus's gaze flickered from the man to the little girl and back again. His mouth was open, his brows furrowed.
"… w-what?"
The older werewolf rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh.
"You queer or summat? Here, I'll spell it out for you."
He unzipped his trousers and pulled himself out. Apolline bit back another sob. Tonks watched in mute horror as the man positioned himself behind her. Remus's eyes were widening.
"W-wait – what are you – stop!"
But Romulus was pushing Apolline's long, floral skirt up over her hips. Tonks felt bile rise in her throat as he pushed himself forward. Then Remus was hurling his body at the much larger werewolf, a veritable human projectile.
"Stop it!" he almost screeched, using his momentum to knock Romulus away from the woman and onto his back. "Leave her alone!"
Then he was pummeling the man with his small fists, a wild creature set loose. Apolline wasted no time scrambling to her feet and rushing over to Fleur. She gathered the girl to her chest and sprinted down the lane. Tonks floated along beside her, watching helplessly as Romulus quickly gained the upper hand in the fight behind her. He wrapped clawed fingers around the boy's skinny neck and slammed him into the ground. Then he threw him bodily across the lane, sending him skidding into the gully. Remus tried to pull himself out, barely getting to his knees before Romulus's right hand came down on him, claws slicing through the skin of his face like a sharp knife through butter. The boy screamed.
Meanwhile, Apolline was pounding futilely on the ward. It shimmered under her hand, solid and implacable. As the sound of large fists meeting young flesh met Tonks's ears, she wondered if it was possible to be sick in a pensieve memory.
"OY! ALLAIDH! Get off him!"
Another tall figure was striding quickly down the lane. Romulus paid him no mind, a hand once again wrapped around Remus's throat. The boy's feet were kicking uselessly in the air, his bloody face going purple as he struggled.
"Get off him!" the man shouted, and the tip of his outstretched wand sparked. "That's an order!"
Finally, Romulus obeyed. He dropped Remus unceremoniously and the boy collapsed into the dirt, coughing and wheezing.
"What the fuck?" the new man hissed, coming to a stop right in front of the two combatants. Tonks drew in a sharp breath and Apolline shrank back against the ward. This man was shirtless, and twin snakes twisted up his sternum. His blond hair was cropped short, more tattoos adorning his face.
"What is going on here?" he demanded. "Speak!"
"The mudblood attacked me," Romulus spat, pointing down at the trembling boy. "He just went mental."
"Remus doesn't go mental," the other man snapped, a hint of a foreign accent coloring his words. "What did you do to him?"
Romulus snarled something nasty, but Tonks was no longer listening. The boy on the ground was staring fixedly at Apolline. The young woman gasped. There was a small opening beside her now, a thin gap of clear air above the lane. She pushed her daughter through without hesitation then followed, clawing at the gravel to pull herself free.
"OY!"
Romulus was sprinting for the ward. But the hole snapped shut and he skidded to a halt, golden eyes fixed hatefully on the woman who was finally safe on the other side.
"Remus!" the other man snapped, dragging the injured boy to his feet and shaking him. "What is wrong with you?"
"… they're… in'cent," the boy managed to slur through bloody teeth. "We don't…"
"He's a fucking traitor," Romulus snarled, pulling a pistol from his belt and rounding on his fellow werewolves. "Step away, Vlad. He's in my pack, I'll deal with him."
Vlad's tattooed face was pale, livid, eyes flashing with rage as he glared down at Remus. The boy stared right back, expression oddly blank. Then Vlad pushed him to his knees and took a step back, holding out his hand towards Romulus.
"No. I'll do it."
Romulus growled unhappily, but Vlad clearly outranked him. He handed over his pistol with a reluctant grimace.
Apolline was still there. Tonks drifted, weightless, at her side. Neither one of them could look away as Vlad raised the pistol and pointed it straight between the boy's golden eyes. Remus stared down the barrel of the gun, calm and unflinching. Tonks tried desperately to remind herself that he must have survived this somehow, but it was hard to remember that as she watched Vlad's finger tighten on the trigger.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light blinded Tonks, and Apolline let out a cry of dismay. A body thudded heavily to the ground. Tonks blinked green spots of her vision… and found Romulus lying in the lane in front of her, eyes open and sightless. Remus stared up at his savior, then looked over at the dead man. But it wasn't over.
Vlad tucked his wand back into his pocket, then pressed the barrel of the pistol into the boy's forehead and leaned down to catch his eyes.
"I like you, kid," he hissed, voice quivering with rage. "You've more guts than the rest of your pack put together. But I won't cover for you again."
He twisted the pistol, pushing the end so hard against Remus's skull that it was sure to leave a mark.
"You pull another stunt like this, and I will kill you myself. Got it?"
Remus nodded quickly, true fear showing on his face for the first time. Vlad glared at him for a moment longer, then stepped back and threw the pistol into the woods.
"Get up," he snapped. "We need to help the others."
The boy struggled, pain now twisting his features. Vlad let out a frustrated huff and grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet.
"Get your head right, kid. You let yourself be manipulated by a pretty face. That woman was the enemy, and you let her go."
"I am not his enemy," Apolline snapped, quite bravely in Tonks's opinion. It didn't seem like anyone but Remus could get through the wards, but that was quite an assumption on which to base one's life. Vlad turned to glare at her, and once again Tonks had to remind herself that this was just a memory. Despite her now considerable experience with Reaper tattoos, it was still unnerving to see one so prominently displayed on such an angry young man.
"Why are you still here?" he snarled. "Go away, or I'll force him to lift this bloody thing and let me through."
"Let him go," Apolline said boldly. "He does not belong here, and you know it."
"Oh, and I suppose he belongs with you? With your precious Ministry?"
The man laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.
"The Ministry made him what he is. They made us all. And they're going to pay the price."
He clapped a hand to the boy's shoulder and started to steer him away.
"Come on, Lupin."
"Please!" Apolline cried, pounding her open palm against the ward. "I can help him, I can give him a family – "
"He has a family!" Vlad bellowed, rounding on her. He stalked forward until he was mere inches from her face. The ward shimmered between them, a deceptively thin barrier.
"The pack is his family," he spat, "and the Reapers will be, too, if he stops being so bloody stupid. You can't protect him. You can't even protect yourself, so just shut the fuck up."
With that, he turned and stalked away.
"Let's go, kid," he growled as he passed the boy. Remus was staring at Apolline, expression once again unreadable.
"Please," she whispered, beckoning to him. "Come with me. I will keep you safe, I promise."
He seemed to be considering her words. Vlad came to a halt further down the lane, turning to look over his shoulder.
"You coming?" he asked harshly. Remus hesitated for a moment longer. Blood streamed from three parallel gashes running from above his left eyebrow, down his cheek and over his chin. It would probably be weeks before they scarred over.
With one last glance at Apolline and her daughter, Remus Lupin turned and limped back towards La Malène. As he reached Vlad, the man draped an arm around his narrow shoulders and turned to walk with him. As the two werewolves gradually disappeared into the gloom, Fleur finally let out a loud wail. The world faded, the image swirled, and Tonks felt herself being pulled up and out of Apolline Delacour's memories.
The bowl fell from her limp hands. Tonks knew, intellectually, that only a few seconds had passed. Yet the Weasley's kitchen felt foreign, unreal in the face of what she had just witnessed. It felt like she'd been gone for hours. It felt like someone had ripped out her lungs and filled her stomach with acid.
A strong hand on her elbow was guiding her into a chair. A deep voice in her ear mumbled comforting words, and some distant part of her mind that wasn't on fire recognised Kingsley's cologne.
"… Tonks? Look at me. Come on, love, look at me."
Her gaze slowly focused on Kingsley's concerned face. He was crouched in front of her, his hands on her knees. She blinked once, twice, then drew in a long, shuddering breath. He watched patiently as she fought a sudden desire to vomit. She let a breath out, then drew another in through her nose, closing her eyes and clenching her fists.
It was several minutes before Tonks felt ready to face the world again. She focused entirely on her breathing – in… out. In… out. She felt a brush of air as someone settled quietly into a chair beside her.
When she finally opened her eyes, Fleur was sitting to her left. Her gaze – somber, yet surprisingly calm – was fixed on the young metamorphmagus. Tonks stared back at her, and for a long moment neither woman spoke. Then –
"… I'm sorry that happened to you."
Fleur blinked, then dropped her gaze. Her throat bobbed.
"… so am I," she finally murmured. "But I do not actually remember much of it. Just a few things – his face, mostly. Maman… she modified my memory. I sent her a letter yesterday, all but demanding whether your David was the boy she has always spoken of. I did not expect her to send the memory but… I am glad she did."
Tonks examined the older woman, brow furrowing.
"… your mum must have known who he was the second the War ended. His name and his face were plastered all over Europe, why didn't she come forward at his trial?"
"You do not understand what it is like to be a veela in France," Fleur replied with a sad smile. "If she had come to the aid of a werewolf, we would have lost the support of our community. She would have lost her job; I would have lost my place at Beauxbatons. She could not risk so much to offer help to a boy who clearly did not want it."
Tonks considered these words for a long moment, eyes flickering between Fleur's.
"And if he wants help now?"
"Then my mother can be here tomorrow."
The young Auror's lips tightened into a thin line, and she nodded once. She looked back at Kingsley – still crouched in front of her with his hands on her knees. She wrapped her fingers around his left wrist.
"… sorry I didn't listen to you, mate."
He let out a soft huff of laughter.
"Next time I tell you not to do something, at least think about it for half a second, alright?"
"Alright," she replied with a weak smile.
"What are you going to do?"
She blinked at him and he elaborated.
"You going to tell him what you saw?"
"… I think he'll know the second he looks at me."
Kingsley grimaced. Then he squeezed her knees one last time and stood up.
"Hold on."
He strode off across the kitchen. Tonks followed him with her eyes, finally remembering that there were other people in the room. Molly and Arthur were having a hushed discussion by the fire. The plump woman's face was pale, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Most of the teenagers were huddled at the other end of the table, also engaged in rather subdued conversation. Dumbledore was talking to James and Lily in a corner, and Sirius was slumped over an empty glass in the middle of the table, head in his hands. Tonks wondered if they felt even half as terrible as she did. It was one thing to know, intellectually, that David had been manipulated and abused as a child. It was another thing entirely to see it happen.
"Here," Kingsley said as he returned, handing her a half-full bottle of firewhiskey. "Liquid courage."
She accepted the gift readily. Pulling the cork, she took a swig straight from the bottle. The horrible liquid burned all the way down her throat and she almost coughed. Eyes watering, she handed the bottle to Fleur. The woman followed suit, though her swig was more of a refined sip. She handled it well, swallowing it easily like a hardened denizen of the Hog's Head. Then she gave the bottle to Kingsley, who took his own drink before sending it full circle back to Tonks.
"I tried to curse that Romulus bloke," he muttered darkly. "Pulled my wand out and everything. Fucking bastard."
Tonks didn't respond, staring silently down at the bottle in her hands. 'Fucking bastard' did not even begin to describe her own thoughts about the man, and she suspected Fleur felt the same way. She hesitated, then took another drink and passed it to the part-veela. This time around, the woman's sip was less refined and more desperate.
"Did anyone else survive?"
Tonks didn't remember deciding to ask the question. But it was already out of her mouth, and Fleur didn't seem surprised by it.
"A few people, yes," she said softly. "They hid in the catacombs under the church. But my grandmother, my aunt, my cousins… so many dead, and for what?"
Uncertain silence greeted this question. Then footsteps sounded on the wood floor and Bill came back into the kitchen. He made a beeline for his girlfriend, reaching down to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.
"He is, in fact, in the shed. I didn't go in, but I just wanted to make sure he hadn't run off now he has a wand."
"Oh, that's right," Fleur said, grasping Bill's fingers tightly. "I missed his Sorting too, mother's letter came right before you two returned from the greenhouse. Is he a… Gryffindor?"
"Hufflepuff," Tonks corrected, unable to muster more than the barest hint of enthusiasm. "And his wand is blackthorn and thestral hair."
Fleur nodded vaguely. Tonks didn't blame her for not knowing – or really caring – what any of that meant.
"Miss Tonks."
She glanced up to find Dumbledore standing above her, expression grave.
"May I speak with you?"
Tonks stared blankly at him for a second, then shook herself.
"Erm… y-yeah. 'Course."
Shooing aside Kingsley's helping hand, she got shakily to her feet and followed the old man into the hall. He led her back to the sitting room and gestured to one of the armchairs. He remained standing, however, and she chose to follow suit, planting her feet and crossing her arms.
"Miss Tonks," he repeated, and he sounded like he was gathering his courage, "I need to ask you something."
"… okay," she replied warily. He folded his hands in front of him and fixed his blue eyes on the floor. He drew in a deep breath, then began.
"I must admit," he said slowly, "that the Sorting Hat's decision was quite a shock. To all of us. I would have readily accepted any of the other Houses, but… especially after seeing Apolline Delacour's memory…"
He trailed off, visibly struggling for words. Tonks felt rather out of her element. Comforting legendary old wizards wasn't her strong suit. Dumbledore straightened his shoulders and continued.
"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but… David has never been very good at explaining himself. At least not in a way that makes his audience at all sympathetic."
"You mean he's blunt," she said simply, "and his first instinct is to drive people away from him."
"Exactly. But the boy I saw in that memory was innately kind. He thought he was doing the right thing. That is not a side of his personality that he ever showed to the Order."
"What are you getting at, Professor?"
"There was an incident. A year before the War ended. I don't know if he's told you, but… we killed a number of his friends in a nightclub. It was a… reprisal, of sorts. For the death of one of our own."
A heavy weight settled in the bottom of Tonks's stomach. She knew exactly where this was going. Dumbledore must have seen the realization in her eyes, for his mouth tightened into a grim line.
"It was a terrible mistake. A result of poor communication and fraying tempers. We almost lost him over it; it took months for Regulus to sway him back to our cause. In the meantime… well, the war effort suffered greatly."
He sighed, raising one pale hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Tonks had never seen him look so vulnerable – so human.
"He has never fully explained why he killed Peter. To this day, I am not entirely certain Peter was even a spy. I always chalked it up to a drunken pub brawl. Peter got in a fight with an angry young man and lost. But… that theory has been losing evidence for some time now. And I am left with only one possible explanation."
He fixed Tonks with a solemn, steady gaze. She stared right back, jaw clenched and eyes blazing.
"You know what I'm asking you."
"Yes. And I'm not telling you a bloody thing."
But even that was enough. Dumbledore's face crumpled for a moment, eyes squeezing shut before he forced himself back to calm dignity. He drew in several shaking breaths before speaking again.
"… I asked him to keep an eye on Peter. And I asked Peter to keep an eye on him. I suspected that at least one of them was betraying us."
He shook his head and turned away, running one hand through his beard as he stared out the window.
"I put him in that situation. And then I just… left him there. A Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake…"
For nearly a minute, neither one of them spoke. The sitting room filled with the quiet sound of embers settling in the fireplace. Then –
"… fate can ask such cruel things of good people. It is a testament to his character that he still has a kind soul."
Dumbledore turned, a hint of a twinkle in his sad blue eyes.
"And it is a testament to yours that you were able to see it."
Tonks couldn't think of a response to this. Thankfully, Dumbledore didn't seem to expect one. He strode past her, stopping to rest a hand briefly on her shoulder before he left the room. For a moment, the young metamorphmagus just stood there, staring into the glowing coals in the grate. Then she turned and followed the old man into the hallway.
She walked past the crowded kitchen in a daze. Her coat and boots were on and she was halfway out the door before she realized what she was doing. She paused. A freezing wind had picked up over the swamp, carrying with it the smell of mud and the faint sound of music. Warm light was spilling out the windows of Arthur's shed.
Emboldened by two shots of firewhiskey in a mostly empty stomach, Tonks stepped outside and closed the door. Her boots crunched on the snowy path. The shed door was closed, and she bunched her sleeve up over her hand before touching the frozen copper handle. The door swung open with a creak, and she stepped inside.
Music was blasting from the speakers in the corner. The television was sitting on the table, complete and working perfectly. What looked like a Muggle sitcom was playing on its screen, the actors drowned out by pounding drums and squealing guitar. David's feet stuck out from under the car, a plastic bag full of new supplies lying open beside him. His wand was lying on the table, a clear indication that he was taking a break from the wizarding world.
Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, Tonks pulled out her own wand and laid it on the table next to his. Then she picked her way through the chaos and got to her knees beside the car. She didn't bother trying to warn him of her presence – he'd smelled her the second she walked through the door. Instead, she pressed herself flat against the floor and wriggled forward.
It was cramped and dirty under the Ford Anglia, dust and bugs and Merlin-knows what else mere centimetres from her face. But when David turned to look at her, cheeks smudged with motor oil and golden eyes lit with determination, Tonks forgot about the filth and her own discomfort.
"… hey," he said softly, lips curling up in a half smile. "Sorry I ran out on you."
She smiled back, propping her chin up on her hands.
"… 's okay."
They examined each other for a long moment, ear-splitting music somehow fading into the background of Tonks's racing thoughts. His expression was open, softened by his smile, and all she could see was the boy. One muscular arm shifted against the machinery above him, and all she could think about was how skinny he'd been. His brow furrowed in concern and all she remembered was the way his eyes had gone blank as he faced death down the barrel of a gun.
"Dora?"
He was alarmed. She drew in a breath, then realized she had no idea what to say. Instead, she lifted her chin to free one of her hands and stretched tentative fingers across the space between them.
He let her slowly trace the scars on his left cheek. Understanding dawned in his eyes, and she expected anger to follow swiftly. But he just reached up and pressed her hand more firmly into his skin.
"It doesn't hurt."
"… but it did."
"It was worth it. I wish I had a thousand more like it. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so guilty."
She contemplated him, lips pursed.
"You thought you were doing the right thing."
"Well, I wasn't."
"You did the right thing for Fleur and her mother."
"While my packmates were raping and murdering two hundred and seventy-three people on t' other side of the village. Bet you didn't see that in the memory."
"No," Tonks admitted, "I didn't. But I did see a little boy who stood no chance against people who were bigger, stronger, older, meaner – "
"I was a more powerful wizard than the rest of the Lothians put together," he snarled, reaching up to tug angrily at the wrench he'd attached to a rusted bolt. "I should've killed 'em all in their sleep."
"Kill your whole family?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "Sorry love, were you not listening when I rattled off all the traits that make you a 'Puff? You couldn't have killed the Lothians, any more than you could stand back and let them be killed at Tantallon Castle."
His hand fell back to his chest, lips pulled into an unhappy grimace, eyes distant. For a minute, they simply listened to the muffled din of the stereo. Then Tonks scooted closer to him, grunting uncomfortably as she maneuvered herself onto her back. Finally, she lay flush against him, staring up at the same filthy section of undercarriage.
"So. What's wrong with this thing, anyhow?"
He shot her a surprised glance and she met it resolutely, one eyebrow raised in challenge. His lips quirked.
"A lot. But I think we can fix it."
AN: And on that note, I'm sorry to inform you that I have to take a brief hiatus from this story :( I've been severely neglecting my PhD, and at least some un-fun writing has to happen before I can return to the fun writing. I will be back, have no fear! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.