Chapter 9: Mrs Lupin
Feet firm against the buffeting stampede, Tonks flung up her wand arm and cast flumes of shield charms over the heads of the panicking guests.
"Get out of here! Go!" She yelled at the blurring mass of bodies.
A sudden wind barrelled through them, raising chairs and bottles from the ground to swirl in all directions. Tonks ducked, blinded by dust and spray. Scraping her hair out of her eyes, she looked up just in time to see the canopy ceiling crumple and explode: pale fragments drifting down onto the melee like snow. The very atmosphere itself seemed to sputter: the colourful lights were dying, the fireflies dropping to be crushed under foot. The might of the Ministry had turned the wedding upside down and now it was shaking it.
Remus shouted in her ear, desperate, a crimson trickle of blood staining his pallid forehead, "Change your face! Do it now!"
Nothing, not the chaos engulfing them, not the shrieks lighting up the night, not even the soldier's adrenaline surging through her body, could numb the memory of his last words to her; as if he'd carved them into her chest with a blunt knife. So fucking stupid. Wincing as a harsh white light drowned the scene, Tonks chose eyes, nose, cheek bones at random. The beam was jinxed and Tonks fought dizziness as she stared into it, trying to count the silhouetted figures forming a line before them: a dozen, too many to risk an open fight.
Behind Remus and Tonks, someone - one of the twins, she thought - shouted, "Come on, we can take them!"
"Don't give them an excuse to throw us all in Azkaban!" Bill shouted back, tussling to lower his brother's arm.
The light dimmed. Emblazoned on the breast pocket of almost every one of the intruders was the insignia of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but that was the only part of their uniform familiar to Tonks. Silver-tipped boots peaked out from beneath black silk robes lined with emerald, wands were held in shiny black leather gloves and magically-reinforced helmets made every head identical. The only two Aurors present - Finlay and McDougall - glanced, a little uncertainly, at their gleaming new colleagues. A man, younger than Tonks, stepped forward from their number, his heels clicking on the golden dance floor. He had large eyes, hairless cheeks, and a hungry smile.
"On your knees."
No one moved.
"On. Your. Knees."
Scratching, needling fingers probed her ear canal and a splitting whine made her double over, though Remus stayed still and expressionless beside her. She heard the others hit the floor behind them and knew they must follow, though she despised the feel of the floor beneath her knees.
"Wands where we can see them. One metre in front of you on the floor."
Tipping her hair to hide her mouth, Tonks whispered three words: the first created a duplicate of her wand, the second disillusioned the real one against the flesh of her forearm, and the third stuck it there. She slid the dummy wand obediently across the floor. The officers were too busy fingering their new badges to notice.
"This wedding has been shut down by the Ministry of Magic."
"Under whose authority?" Asked Arthur.
"Mine. Obviously," the young man snapped, "but it is for us, not you, to ask the questions. We're hunting an individual suspected of murder and we have reason to believe that members of this gathering have information on his whereabouts."
"We don't know any murderers," said Bill. "You've come to the wrong place."
The young man enunciated every syllable as if they were lines in a play. "I'll be the judge of that. Harry Potter is a regular visitor to this household, is he not? Well, he is wanted for questioning about his role in the killing of Albus Dumbledore."
"Preposterous!" Molly cried. "I've never heard such an outrageous lie in all my life!"
"Be quiet, woman."
He flicked his wand and Tonks heard a muffled moan as Molly's mouth clamped shut. Tonks twisted her neck to look round and saw that the hot rage rippling through her was shared by them all: Arthur was fierce behind broken spectacles, holding Molly tight by the shoulders; the twins and their friend Lee clenched their fists, knuckles clicking; Ginny, red-faced with fury, held the hand of a trembling Gabrielle Delacour; Bill and Fleur, glued at the shoulder, exchanged dark looks; Muriel thrust out her chin proudly, her flamingo feathers miraculously still intact; and Hagrid frowned so deeply that his bushy black eyebrows met in the middle. To Tonks' relief, Harry, Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. Flanked by two other officers, the young man began to swagger through them, as if every glare was a clap of applause.
"Nobody leaves this place until we're satisfied. Surrender to us everything you know about Potter. We want to know his habits: where he goes, who he sees, what he's been getting up to behind the Ministry's back."
They came to a leering stop in front of Fleur. Tonks' wand grew hot against her skin. Remus' right hand twitched towards his opposite sleeve.
"The blushing bride. Not quite the wedding night you had in mind, is it princess?"
Fleur spat out her reply in vicious French. The men laughed.
"I think this one's in need of some one-on-one interrogation, boss," one of them said.
"Can I volunteer?" Said another.
"Oh, don't worry - we'll all get a turn."
The meadow echoed with shouts of outrage. Tonks and Remus sprang to their feet just as Bill - who had lunged for his wand - was thrown backwards. His spine jerked, his body contorted, his scars were bright white against his reddening face as he screamed in agony. Tonks tugged at her wand, but stumbled as the ground shifted beneath her feet. A crack like a fork of lightning broke across the golden dance floor and the young man wobbled, his crucio breaking, his wand flying out of his hand to be caught by -
"That's enough!"
It was Finlay. He held the disarmed wand aloft as McDougall lifted the quaking charm. The officers hesitated, unsure whether to point their wands at the Aurors or the seething guests.
"Back on your knees, all of you," said Finlay, his wand travelling over each of the wedding party in turn, "wands back down where we can see them. And you - " he said to the young man, "you simmer down."
The young man marched towards Finlay, squaring his shoulders and jutting his face close to him. "Give me my wand back."
"We are the Ministry of Magic. We don't cast unforgivable curses on innocents," Finlay dropped his voice, "nor do we harass them, for feck's sake. We're here to investigate a murder. Get yourself and your men under control."
McDougall addressed the room, "There'll be no more torture tonight. You have my word. None of you are under suspicion and, as long as you cooperate with us, this will all be over soon. If Potter is innocent, you have nothing to fear from telling us everything you know. If he's guilty, I'm sure you'll agree that he deserves the full power of the law upon his head. So, please…" he signalled with his hands for them to return to the floor.
Slowly, warily, the Order obliged. Finlay handed the young man his wand back.
"I outrank you, you know," he snarled. "We all do. The Aurors are finished."
Finlay and McDougall looked disturbed: despite their big words, they were outnumbered five to one and they knew it. Tonks' knees began to ache.
"Separate each one and record their names and addresses," the young man barked. "Let's start the questioning. They know where Potter is, I can smell it."
Kicking aside shards of disco ball and rolling champagne bottles, the officers approached them. Finlay peeled away and made for Remus and Tonks, but any relief she might have felt died as soon as a spark of recognition hardened into suspicion on his face.
"You," he said, looking down at Remus. "I know who you are."
"Then you should already know that nothing you can do will make me talk."
Tonks elbowed him.
"No touching," Finlay snapped. "What business does a werewolf have at a wedding?"
"As much business as Aurors have peddling lies."
"You do know I could have you thrown in Azkaban with a click of my finger, don't you?"
"And I could stop you with as little effort."
"Try me, w - "
"Alright, that's it!"
Tonks morphed her face back to normal and stood up. Three stunning spells headed her way but she deflected them easily, pressing a warning hand down on Remus' shoulder to keep him in place. Finlay gaped at her.
"Tonks? Wands down! She's an Auror!"
The young man snorted. "Her?"
"That's right," said Tonks, loudly, "and I'm officially placing myself on duty. I don't like the way this investigation is being run."
"Unless you've got authorisation from the Minister or the Senior Undersecretary, you can get on your knees with the rest or you can get out."
"Metamorphmagi give me the creeps," added a second officer.
"I'll handle this. She's part of my department," said Finlay.
"I can vouch for every single one of these people," Tonks said under her breath to Finlay when the din of the questioners had risen enough for them to speak, "none of them have any clue where Harry Potter might be."
"You can't possibly know that for sure. This is serious, Tonks. I know it sounds crazy, but new evidence has surfaced from the night Dumbledore was murdered and it's all pointing towards Potter. But what are you even doing here? Why weren't you at the meeting with Thicknesse?"
"What meeting?"
"Didn't you get the summons?"
Tonks shook her head.
"Why am I not surprised? Why can't you…for once…?" But he trailed off, raising his eyes briefly to the sky, before starting again with a sigh. "Scrimgeour resigned. The pressure got too much for him. Thicknesse is the new Minister for Magic and he wants to speak to every Auror in person. Tonight. It would be completely unprofessional for you to join this investigation. You'd better report in."
"No," said Remus.
Finlay rounded on him. "Don't you tell her what to do, werew - "
"Shut up, don't let the others hear you!" Tonks hissed, grabbing his arm. "Come with me."
She dragged him away from Remus towards a splintered canopy pole and onto the grass, casting a muffling charm in her wake. When Finlay looked at her, she saw the same disgust he'd worn when staring at the dead, bloodied wolf in their office.
"It's true, isn't it? You and him?"
She held his gaze, letting it confirm what her words could not.
"What happened to you, Tonks? What the hell went wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong with me. I just never let the Ministry suck away my ability to think for myself."
"There's a difference between thinking for yourself and abandoning sanity altogether! The werewolves are in league with the Death Eaters, you can't - "
"The only ones in league with the Death Eaters are your new friends back there," said Tonks, jerking her thumb in their direction.
"I don't like them any more than you do, but at least they're on the Ministry's side. Thicknesse appointed them himself."
"And who do you think appointed Thicknesse? Whose side do you think he's on?"
"Thicknesse was the natural choice of successor, so don't give me your paranoid conspiracies, Tonks. You were right before, but not this time. The Ministry needs loyalty if it's going to succeed in this war and I, unlike you, take my job seriously and intend to do it to the best of my ability."
"Protecting the innocent's part of the job, isn't it? So don't let these thugs arrest anyone."
"Your werewolf boyfriend included? He's far from innocent, Tonks."
Tonks seized him by the shoulders knowing, somehow, that Remus was watching her.
"Don't be a bigoted twat, listen to me! We've been mates for years me and you, you've got to trust me on this."
Finlay backed away from her. "How can I trust you when you've been…with him…it makes me sick to even think about it. The Tonks I was mates with would never be this gullible. He's dangerous! He'll only betray you. Better he's in Azkaban than in your bed, poisoning your mind against the Ministry - "
"Imperio."
She'd never cast the spell before, hadn't known she was going to until it was already out of her mouth, but someone had to take her place; someone had to protect Remus, to protect them all, and what other choice did she have? Whatever it takes to win, that's what she'd sworn to Remus. Hot tingles shot from her brain stem, down her spine, her arm, and into her wand; as if her blood stream itself was fusing with the core. The anger faded from Finlay's face. His brow relaxed. His mouth opened, blankly. She felt his will surrender to hers, like a slack string to be knotted into whatever shape she chose - then it twitched and Tonks heard a distant voice in her own head, get out, as he tried to fight her hold. But she was too strong.
You will do everything and anything in your power to make sure that not a single person at this wedding is harmed or arrested.
She felt dirty when she lifted the charm, like she'd sliced open his skull and plunged her fingers into the wrinkled goop inside.
"I'm sorry. I had to," she whispered.
Finlay left her and returned to the interrogations without a word. Tonks watched him go and met Remus' gaze. The stare he gave her seemed bottomless. It made her shudder, made the wound in her heart bleed anew. She wished she could call out to him that their baby wouldn't be a werewolf but, even if it was, she would love it as all-consumingly as she loved him; that she was heartsick and horrified and furious at him; that she was fucking terrified too.
Tonks put her hand on her stomach, steadying herself. She couldn't lose her job. The Order needed her on the inside. She unglued her wand from her forearm and Remus shook his head, understanding instantly, but Tonks wasn't going to obey him. She disapparated home first, thundering through the nettles to wrench open the front door and summon her Auror robes. She fumbled with them, turning them upside down to tug them over her head, coins jangling onto the floor. Then she plunged back into the thin dappled moonlight of the forest and disapparated again, this time into an acrid-smelling alley in Whitehall. Breathing in petrol fumes and blinking at the glowing red light of the cabs, Tonks fastened her robes to hide her bare legs and made for the entrance to the Ministry of Magic.
The atrium was dark, its umbra interrupted only by the candles in sconces which cast pale, dancing light onto the black liquid floor. Tonks pulled off her rings and slipped them into her pocket as she walked. She needed to steel herself, even with a baby in her belly; to find a way to convince Thicknesse of her loyalty. Tonks jogged up the snaking marble staircase, forgetting to knock on the grand mahogany door before entering. Like a pair of waxworks, two faces looked up from the desk in the centre of the room, surrounded by the lights of the city that sparkled through the enchanted glass walls. Thicknesse's eyes were barely visible beneath the shadow of his forehead and his robes were as dark as the floor over which Scrimgeour's body must have been dragged that very night. Dolores Umbridge, in contrast, seemed to glow a pastel pink hue.
"I must admit," Umbridge began, "I'd heard rumours of your poor time-keeping, but you appear to have outdone yourself this evening. The Aurors were summoned to report before the Minister hours ago."
Tonks battled to control her facial muscles and slid her eyes to Thicknesse instead.
"Wotcher, Minister."
He inclined his head, but didn't speak.
"It's impolite to hover," said Umbridge.
Tonks pulled out a chair, scraping its legs along the floor, taking satisfaction in the flare of Umbridge's nostrils at the sound.
"Tea?" Umbridge trilled.
A tray-table wheeled itself out of the shadows, carrying a steaming teapot the same sickly pink as the ribbon looped into a bow atop Umbridge's head. Tonks leant back in her chair and tapped her boot heels under the table.
"It's a bit late for me actually. I'll be bouncing off the walls."
Umbridge arched a plucked eyebrow, but her placid smile remained fixed. "I can hardly imagine. Perhaps a water instead?"
"No," Tonks replied, adopting an identical smile.
"Alastor Moody preferred to dispense with pleasantries too, didn't he?"
Though Umbridge's mouth was downturned in a pantomime of sympathy, her eyes flashed with triumph at the jolt Tonks failed to conceal.
"Of course, we were all deeply aggrieved when we heard of his tragic passing. One could even call it…the end of an era. Alastor Moody was the last of an old guard, part of a generation of Aurors whose individuality and idiosyncrasies were glorified - glorified, dare I say it, slightly to the detriment of some of the other noble qualities the office of Auror requires. Do not mistake me, my dear, I wouldn't dream of denying his great contribution to our Ministry of Magic, but we are living in a different time now: a time in which Aurors must not aspire to renegadism but to serve as an efficient and integrated part of a wider system. We all had such high hopes for Rufus Scrimgeour but, sadly, he too proved to be a remnant of that old world, unequal to implementing the reforms that this government so sorely needs."
"Where is Scrimgeour now?" Tonks asked, as mildly as she could manage.
"Retired. Not everyone can cope with the pressures of high office. I'm afraid to say the Minister informs me his predecessor was rather uncooperative during the handover process - isn't that correct, Pius?"
"Stubborn, recalcitrant fool. He gave us nothing."
Tonks' skin prickled.
"Where were you tonight?" Umbridge asked.
"A wedding."
"Ah, yes. The eldest of the Weasley boys and the French girl. Rather a lot of people who regard themselves as friends of Harry Potter attended that wedding, didn't they?"
"A handful."
Umbridge leaned forward, her tiny fingernails poised on the desk. "Did you know that new evidence has come to light linking Harry Potter to the death of Albus Dumbledore?"
"Did you know that torture is a crime?" Tonks blurted. "Because that's what your new officers were doing."
"The law is what the Ministry makes it," said Thicknesse.
Nod, you idiot. Tonks knew she should agree, but her neck was too obstinate to bend.
"Our new officers are professionals," said Umbridge. "They do not question the organisation that employs them unlike certain members of the Auror Department. In all honesty," she paused, tilting her bow-crowned head to one side, "I've never quite understood the point of employing quite so many of you. Aurors do not enforce public order. They do not keep peace on our streets. They do nothing to subdue the undesirable elements flooding our society, but rather concentrate their efforts on the antiquated belief that there are dark wizards hiding behind every corner. It is more prudent, more…courageous even…for us to divert funds into expanding the departments who can best serve our nation's needs at this difficult time."
"Order and discipline," muttered Thicknesse.
"I couldn't have put it better myself, Minister," Umbridge replied rapturously, before fixing cold eyes back on Tonks, "Now, dear - "
"It's Auror Tonks."
"What is?"
"My name. To you."
Umbridge gave a tinkling little laugh.
"Oh, but it isn't," she said, silkily. "Not anymore. I updated your file myself. Surely you understand that you cannot possibly continue to call yourself Auror Tonks when you are, in fact, Mrs Lupin?"
She flourished a piece of parchment and slid it across the table. Tonks read only the first line. It was a poor imitation of her own handwriting, headed by a name she didn't recognise.
I, Nymphadora Lupin, do hereby…
"Your letter of resignation. Much more civilised this way, don't you think? All you need to do is sign."
Tonks didn't accept the pink quill offered to her. She slammed her palm down onto the letter and it shrivelled to a crisp.
"You're off your nut if you think I'll resign."
"Then you leave me with no choice but to inform you that your employment with the Ministry of Magic has been terminated, effective immediately, on the grounds of gross misconduct. You may not collect your latest payslip. You must return all Ministry property within your possession. You will leave the premises immediately."
"You fucking enjoyed that, didn't you?"
"Silly girl. You didn't really think we'd turn a blind eye to an Auror marrying a half-breed beast, did you?"
Tonks leapt to her feet. Umbridge flinched.
"Fuck you, you scum-sucking vulture, an ounce of my husband's spit is worth more than your whole miserable life," Tonks kicked the heavy table, then thumped her fists down on its surface,"and one day it'll be your arse getting kicked out of here and into the piss-soaked cell in Azkaban you deserve, and on that day I hope you know that it was the Lupin-Tonkses who put you there. And you," she snarled at Thicknesse, "you're not even trying to resist it, are you? I bet the floor was still sticky with blood when you took his seat."
"Your father is the so-called 'muggleborn', Edward Tonks, is he not?"
Tonks froze.
"Yes. Yes, I thought so," Umbridge continued. "In my new capacity as Head of the Muggleborn Registration Committee, I will be conducting a survey of how such persons as Edward Tonks came to possess magical secrets. Unless your father can prove he has at least one wizarding relative, I will be forced to conclude that he obtained magical power illegally and assign the punishment I deem most appropriate. May I suggest, therefore, that you refrain from making threats and leave without a fuss."
Tonks' hands were steady as she placed one ring after the other onto her wedding finger.
"Better a werewolf's whore than the Ministry's skivvy."
She turned and stormed to the door.
"Mrs Lupin?"
Tonks wrenched it open.
"Those robes are Ministry property."
One hand thrust a middle finger over her shoulder, while the other ripped the clasps apart at the neck, and Tonks stepped over the robes as they tumbled to her feet. In her velvet dress, she began her last walk down the marble staircase. The people in the atrium stopped and stared up at her. She didn't let herself remember who she'd been - the student glowing with pride as Nana Tonks told her she was going to be the witch James Bond; the tenacious, starry-eyed rookie; the Auror Tonks of twenty minutes ago who wouldn't know how to recognise herself without her job - because to think like that would be to cry and she'd die before she let them have a single tear from her. She answered every look with a defiant scowl: they could ogle her, mock her, pity her all they wanted, she didn't care, she was going to bring this palace of hypocrisy to its knees. She and her husband and their child growing strong inside her.
She passed Yaxley (walking with impunity, leading a group of journalists in the direction of the Minister's office), blue-robed maintenance staff (chipping away at the old fountain), a man crying, holding a box containing a cactus and a photo frame (escorted to the exit by security staff). Kingsley emerged from the lifts, closely followed by Dawlish and two Magical Law Enforcement officers. He saw her but Tonks forced herself not to catch his eye: he was the Order's last hope, she couldn't taint him by familiarity.
"What a disappointment," he said as he passed, eliciting chuckles from his companions.
Something wedged itself in Tonks' hair and wriggled to hide behind her ear. When she reached street level, she reached in and pulled out a tiny scroll of parchment.
Just found out officers were sent to your parents' home. No Aurors present.
"No," Tonks moaned.
Without heeding the drunk muggles at the bus stop and staggering on the spin, she disapparated. Seconds felt like hours. Her insides were melting, her lungs caving, but still she urged her cells on faster. Gasping for breath, she arrived on the deserted street and strained her eyes at the sky, begging for the skull with a snake's tongue not to be hanging there. It was empty, no green light shone, but Tonks trusted nothing: she sprinted to the front door and smashed it down, bursting into the living room ready to kill anyone who dared raise a wand to her parents.
"Mum?! Dad?!"
The room was still. Only a second glance revealed something was amiss: pieces of smashed glass on the carpet, the rug crumpled, frames on the mantelpiece fallen flat. Tonks headed up the stairs, knees almost folding, throat raw as she screamed out for them.
"MUM! DAD!"
"Dora?" A voice croaked from behind their bedroom door.
"DAD!"
She fell into the room. Her parents were lying on the bed. Ted eased himself up into a sitting position, wincing, but Andromeda didn't move. She was curled on her side, her long hair fallen over her face. Tonks clambered on her knees over the bed towards her.
"Mum? Are you okay?"
Her eyes moved beneath their lids and she murmured, "Nymphadora?"
"It's me. It's me. I'm here," said Tonks, smoothing her damp hair behind her ear before looking back at Ted, "What happened?"
"It was just a normal evening, same as any other," said Ted, his voice so weak it made Tonks' heart crack to hear it, "I'd cooked us a nice beef stroganoff and we must have nodded off on the sofa because the next thing we knew there was a knock at the door. I could tell something was wrong immediately, of course. Our security charms were supposed to stop strangers getting as far as the house, but these lot had no trouble unlocking the door and waltzing straight in. They called themselves Magical Law Enforcement but I'd never clapped eyes on a single one of them in my life. Eight of them there were. All young and jumped-up, wearing these shiny new uniforms. They told us they were here to question us on the whereabouts of Harry Potter. We said we knew nothing, but they wouldn't stop asking and asking. When we continued to resist, they…well, they tortured us…"
Tonks choked back a wail, squeezing the quilt in her fist.
"I hope I never…" Ted continued, the words trembling out of him, "never hear the sound of your mother screaming…like that…ever again in my life…"
"Oh, Dad…Dad…"
Tonks clung to him, burying herself into the soft wool of his jumper and feeling his cheek against hers, scratchy like it always used to be when he tucked her in and kissed her goodnight when she was little.
"I'm so sorry…I should have been there…I should have been there…"
"I'm glad you weren't, love. The Ministry's fallen, hasn't it?"
Tonks sat back and nodded, getting her breathing under control. "And they're moving against the muggleborns already. You can't go to work and you've got to get out of this house. It was Ministry goons tonight, but it could be Bellatrix next."
Andromeda gasped softly.
"You're coming to live with me and Remus."
Ted shook his head. "The two of you need your space."
"We'll make room! Dad, get real - there's nowhere else for you to go!"
"That's not strictly true…"
Ted reached towards the bedside table, groaning with the effort. His fingers fumbling at the drawer handle, he withdrew a folder and handed it to Tonks.
"I sorted these out before we joined the Order, thought they might come in handy on a rainy day. I'd say it's pouring tonight, wouldn't you?"
Tonks opened the folder to find a pair of small purple booklets she recognised as muggle passports, bearing the names Hugh and Sylvia Larkin, and a stack of thin papers stamped with lines of square letters.
"You bought a house through the muggle system," she said, flicking through the documents.
"The Death Eaters are clueless when it comes to muggle bureaucracy, they'll never figure it out. We'll hole ourselves up in Cromer. I always did fancy living by the seaside."
"Well done, Dad," Tonks started to ease herself off the bed, trying not to bounce her mother as she went. "Now let's get going. I'll help you."
"Your mum can't apparate in this state, Dora. There's no spell that can help her, she needs rest. And, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure I can even stand yet."
Tonks pushed her fingers through the yellow tangles of her hair. "Twenty more minutes. But that's it."
She ran back out into the garden, jumping at the skitter of a fox in the hedgerow and cloaking the house in new protection charms. The spells wouldn't grant more than a few extra minutes to escape if the Ministry returned, but they were better than nothing. Back inside, she erased the marks of the invasion: smoothing the rug with her foot, uprighting the picture frames, vanishing the broken glass. She knew it was silly, but she wasn't sure she could bear to say goodbye to it otherwise. When fifteen minutes remained of the time she'd promised, she sat down on the sofa and lowered her face into her hands. The adrenaline that had powered her through the night was beginning to fade, leaving stinging shock in its place. Recent memories circled her like predators.
"Oh Tonks. There's never a perfect time…"
"It's alright, my love…you can tell me. I won't be angry with you. I was gone for such a long time and you - you were so lonely."
"The law is what the Ministry makes it."
"They…well, they tortured us…"
Tonks swore under her breath and found that she couldn't stop. She twisted the rings on her finger and longed for Remus. She wanted him close, wanted his hand warm upon her stomach, wanted him to kiss her aching head. Dipping deep into her reserves of strength, she cast a patronus and watched as the wolf glided, its paws paddling the air, out of the window and away into the night. It carried no message: it would appear to Remus in the very corner of his eye, too fast for anyone but him to notice. A beacon. An olive branch. A glimpse of light to let him know he wasn't alone, to tell him to come to her as soon as he could.
When Tonks returned upstairs, her parents were asleep. She draped a blanket over them and sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the clock tick. She remembered a spell she'd learnt during healing training. She didn't know if it would work or whether it was even possible so early, but she tried it anyway. Roving her wand tip over her stomach, she searched until she heard something. Though amplified by magic, it was barely a patter; like the faintest flutter of paper wings. It wasn't a true beat, but it was there all the same. Tonks tipped her head back, breathless with sudden, bright, painful hope.