Kiss
Disclaimer: I do not own the song "Baby It's You" by Burt Bacharach or the version by The Beatles.
When the spinning stopped, Harry stumbled out into a room that was not what he expected. Despite the fact that Mrs. Tonks had been raised in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Tonks's descriptions of her parents had given Harry an impression of the Weasleys, and he had anticipated something similar to the Burrow. However, the room he was in was large and nicely decorated. A shiny hardwood floor was partially covered with thick rugs, and a big, twinkling Christmas tree occupied a far corner. Several armchairs and a sofa sat around a modern television that would have set Dudley to drooling. Shelves stood on either side of the television, filled with curios, books, and pictures. The walls were covered with framed photographs, some magic, others Muggle, and they gave the room a warm, homey sense. But it was the pink head that popped up from an armchair that was the most welcoming.
"Harry!" Tonks exclaimed, tossing aside a fluffy throw and vaulting over the back of the sofa with a half-eaten green apple in one hand. She hugged him, and he returned it with vigor. "I was wondering when you would arrive. Come on, you're just in time."
"Just in time for what?"
"My parents are about to leave to finish up Christmas shopping, and then they're going to visit my great-aunt," she explained as she tossed his bag to one side and pulled him out of the room. They came to a stop in the foyer, where Mr. Tonks was helping Mrs. Tonks into her coat.
Her father was no taller than Harry, with a smattering of fair hair and a belly that pushed at his shirt, though by no means comparable to Uncle Vernon. He had a good-natured face that settled into laugh lines easily, and his eyes crinkled the same way as his daughter's when he smiled. He greeted Harry with a warm smile, a firm handshake, and an admonition to "Call me Ted, son."
Harry came to a complete stop when he saw her mother, rudely staring until Tonks cuffed him over the head. Mrs. Tonks was Bellatrix Lestrange made over, although on second impression her eyes were kinder and her hair was brown. Although she had a quiet reserve that her husband and daughter lacked, she was nothing if not cordial.
"I'm so sorry to run out on your first night here, Harry, but we planned this before we knew of your visit," Andromeda told him.
"It's alright," Harry assured them. "Don't worry about me. I'm sure I can keep an eye on Tonks while you're gone." They laughed, and that set Harry at ease. "I do want to say how grateful I am for letting me stay."
"To be honest, Dora didn't really give us a choice," Ted said, and it took Harry a moment to realize to whom he was referring. "Not that we weren't more than happy," he added hastily after a hard look from his daughter.
"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Andromeda asked her daughter. "When was the last time you visited Aunt Helen?"
"Mum, she hates me."
"Don't be ridiculous. She loves you."
"She loves to lecture me." Tonks took on the appearance of a wrinkled old woman, adopting a high, reedy voice. " 'Nymphadora, however do you expect to land a husband if you insist on dressing like a hoodlum?' "
Andromeda gave her a firm look. "She's from a different time. Go see her while you're home, Nymphadora."
"Fine," Tonks muttered. Harry was amused to see there was at least one person in this world who could keep Nymphadora Tonks in check.
"And what do you have planned for today?" Ted asked pleasantly.
Harry was saved the trouble of answering (as he really had no idea) by Tonks's prompt response.
"We're going to eat the cheesecake Mum thinks she's hiding in the back of the refrigerator."
"You'll do no such thing," was Andromeda's immediate rejoinder.
"Oh, I'm going to eat it until I'm sick."
"If you—"
"Dromeda, we need to leave," Ted interrupted. "We're supposed to meet Alice and Connor in fifteen minutes."
"Go on, you two," Tonks said, opening the front door and sweeping them out. "Eat, drink, and be merry. Don't do anything I would do." She winked at her father as he passed. "Have her home by ten, young man."
"Don't touch that cheesecake!"
After she shut the door, Tonks leaned against it, grinning at Harry with dancing eyes. "I love winding her up."
"Are you actually going to eat it?"
"No, she made it for tomorrow." Tonks gave Harry a mischievous glance. "The thing about my mother, babe—and I swear it's been this way since the day I was born—is that she can be rather high-strung, and for some reason if she says be quiet I immediately want to shout at the top of my lungs. Dad tells me to do something, and I'm fine, but Mum let's just say my problems with authority began with her."
Harry grinned, not surprised in the least, as he followed Tonks back into the living room. Taking his bag, she led him on a quick tour around the house. It was nice, too big for a family of three. Like many homes, family portraits lined the staircase, and he smiled at them, watching Tonks grow from chubby baby to gap-toothed child to lanky teenager, all manner of hair colors and styles in between.
"And this will be your room."
Tonks led him into a bedroom decorated in pale blue. Harry set his bag inside the wardrobe and glanced out the lone window that overlooked a spacious garden below. When he turned around, Tonks was watching him.
"There's another room down the hall if you want"
He shook his head. "No, it's great, thanks."
"Good." She looked around, smiling. "You know, this was my playroom when I was little. I had a massive dollhouse right where the bed is."
"You played with dolls?" Harry asked skeptically.
"Not in the traditional sense. My dolls engaged in legendary battles with cotton buds for wands. I
always put a hostage at the very top of the dollhouse, though I liked to pretend it was a castle. And my favorite dolls would ride into battle on stuffed dragons and unicorns."
"The Auror training started early."
"I was a lonely kid with a very vivid imagination."
Harry nodded in agreement, remembering his own hours in his cupboard under the stairs with the few leftover toys of Dudley's he was allowed. It wasn't, however, nearly as fond a memory as hers.
"Anyway," she continued. "The bathroom is next door, and my bedroom is at the end of the hall. I'll leave you to get settled."
After changing out of his uniform, Harry put his toothbrush in the bathroom and wandered into her bedroom. He would have recognized it as hers even if she hadn't told him. Like her cubicle at work, the walls were covered with everything from posters of bands and the 1990 English National Team to Hufflepuff hangings to pictures of waving teens. Oddly, numerous boxes cluttered the floor. Tonks was lounging on a window seat on the far wall, stroking an enormous tabby cat.
"What are the boxes for?" Harry asked, taking a seat on her bed.
"My things from my flat. Mum and Dad are keeping it for me until I get another next summer. Those and Jabba here." She scratched the purring cat.
Harry chortled. "Jabba? What kind of name is that?"
"Jabba the Hutt? From Star Wars?" Her face was incredulous. "Tell me you've seen Star Wars."
"I've heard of it, of course, but I've never seen it," he replied defensively.
She appeared shocked. "How sad. We'll remedy that while you're here. Anyway, this is Jabba the Cat. I got him when I was ten. I wanted to call him The-Cat-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but Mum didn't think it was appropriate." She laughed. "Story of my life. Oh, and I should warn you he doesn't fancy anyone touching him but me."
On cue, the cat gave Harry a baleful glance. "No worries there," he said. "I never liked cats."
"I repeat: how sad." Just then Jabba jumped off her lap and ran out of the room, leaving two amused humans behind. "Oh dear, you offended him." Tonks gave him her full attention. "So, what do you want to do?"
He'd been waiting for this. "I have to tell you something. I meant to the last time we met in the Room of Requirement, but I was distracted by Malfoy—"
"And attempting to coerce a snog."
He grinned. "Can't blame me for trying. Look at you. No one could kiss you just once."
She rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with a smile. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Continue."
"We haven't been alone since, so I haven't had a chance" Harry told Tonks nearly every detail of his aborted meeting with Dumbledore, leaving out only the bit about the Ministry. He remembered her less-than-enthusiastic reaction at the trial, and he figured he'd deal with it when the time came. When he finished with what he'd managed to hear through the door, she began walking across her room, clearly running over it in her mind.
"Tell me again what Sevvie said about Malfoy," she requested. After he complied, she dropped onto the bed next to him, bouncing on the cushioned mattress and crossing her arms. She turned to him with a perturbed look. "Are you fucking me?"
"No, but if you're offering"
He couldn't believe those words had just come out of his mouth, and by her wide eyes and open mouth, she couldn't either. For once he'd knocked Tonks temporarily speechless. Finally she threw her head back and laughed, and Harry allowed himself to breathe.
"Wow," she gasped. "And on my bed, too. I have thoroughly corrupted you, haven't I?"
"I think you've been a bad influence."
No longer laughing, she leaned toward him, running one finger along his jaw. "You think so?" she said in a low, sultry voice. "Oh, Harry. When I'm truly being a bad influence, you'll know." Now he was the one who couldn't speak, and she continued to make things worse, biting her bottom lip as she caught his eye. "Have you ever been on a girl's bed?"
"No," he said, unable to keep from flushing.
She laughed again, standing up to resume her pacing. "Good to know I can still make you blush. Now, if I've embarrassed you enough so Snape and Dumbledore know Malfoy is up to something?"
"That was my impression. But it doesn't make sense—if Dumbledore wants to stop him, why did he tell us to drop it? If he had said he was doing something, I would have been satisfied."
Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Really?" she asked in a dry tone. "You would have gone about your business and completely ignored Malfoy?"
Harry grinned. "Probably not, but I could help." He paused. "To be honest, I'm more concerned about what's wrong with Dumbledore."
"It has to be related to his arm, doesn't it?" Tonks speculated. "Healthy people don't have blackened hands." Holding her left hand in front of her face, she easily demonstrated. "Creepy, innit? Looks dead."
"And if his hand is dead, then the rest of him" His stomach clenching, Harry didn't need to finish his sentence. Something was seriously wrong with Albus Dumbledore. And despite the fact that Harry no longer saw him as an infallible, benevolent grandfather type with all the answers, what he wanted most was for them to work together again. "I need his help. Not only did he defeat Grindelwald, everyone says he's the only one Voldemort ever feared, and there must be a reason for that. I saw them duel at the Ministry; it was an even match."
"That must have been so cool to watch," Tonks said enviously.
"Quite, beyond the temporary possession and threat of death," Harry said, harsher than he intended.
"Shite—oh, Merlin, Harry—I didn't—I'm sorry," she stammered, instantly repentant. "Open mouth, insert overlarge boot, yeah?"
Harry had to smile at the mental image. "It's fine."
She leaned down to lightly kiss his temple, his forehead burning from the touch. "I'm an idiot, and you're too nice to me. Except for that time you called me easy."
"I didn't—" Harry began before seeing that she was teasing him.
She jumped up, seized by one of those startling mood swings and an accompanying surge of energy.
"Let's get out of here, babe. I'm having too many teenage flashbacks with the décor in this room.
Mum says she keeps just as I left it five years ago so I know I always have a place to go."
"I think that's nice," Harry said, thinking of his begrudgingly-given room at Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon was nearly as ready to have it back as Harry was to leave it behind forever.
"So do I, but don't tell my mother I said that."
They ended up in the same room he had arrived in earlier. Tonks curled up next to him, and during a stretch of silence when they were engrossed in a television show, she summoned a blanket, spreading it over both of them. Emboldened by the intimate move, he hesitantly slipped an arm over her shoulders, and when she merely leaned closer, Harry completely lost interest in Time Lords, wondering if the game between them was over. He enjoyed their flirtatious banter, but he'd never felt so drawn to another, felt such a strong yet easy connection that he couldn't fathom was one-sided.
Eventually, the windows darkening as the sun set, Tonks stood up and stretched, her top pulling up enticingly, and Harry's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.
"Hungry?" she asked. "Do you want to go in town and get a pizza?"
"You mean you aren't going to cook for me?" Harry put on his best disappointed face.
"I can if you want," she replied unexpectedly. "But not today, I'll have to go by the market first."
"I'm just teasing, Tonks. You don't have to cook for me."
"No, I will. You don't think I can cook?" she asked, correctly interpreting his doubtful expression.
She tossed her head. "I can cook. Just wait."
"No, thank you, I already have a dark wizard after me. I'd like to live to face him."
"Why does everyone always assume I'm murder in a kitchen? I'll cook for you one night, and you'll die happy."
Harry caught her eye. "I'm already happy."
He loved the way she tried to hide it when he pleased her. "You're getting better at this."
"So my wooing is working?"
"I guess you'll find out eventually."
By this time they had arrived in the garage, and Tonks was getting into a sporty red car. Harry came to a halt. "Wait. You're driving?"
"Why not?"
"Do you know how to drive?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, I'll learn as we go. Of course I do, my dad taught me when I was your age. I've a proper Muggle license and everything. Now get in."
Harry got into the passenger side and immediately buckled his seat belt, strangely nervous. When Tonks took off, he understood why. "Tonks? You know there's a speed limit, don't you?"
"I always look at it as more of a suggestion."
Thankfully, Harry's mental prediction that they would never reach the pizzeria wasn't fulfilled, and they arrived without incident (and in what had to be record time), although he was sure he had worn a groove pressing on the imaginary brake.
After splitting an enormous pie they bought coffees and wandered around the town, glancing into shop windows and listening to Tonks tell stories from her childhood, for she had grown up here. It wasn't as sunny as Harry would have guessed; she was born during Voldemort's first rise to power, and Andromeda's fears that her sister would make them a target had blighted her early years.
Early on Harry slipped his hand into her gloved one. This, he thought, was how holidays should be spent: hand in hand with Tonks, walking and talking in carefree spirits, bathed in light from streetlamps, breath ghosting in the cold air, catching her when she slipped on nonexistent ice. And the best part was that, for once, Tonks wasn't pulling away with teasing quips and saucy glances. Though Harry hardly dared to let himself believe it, her signals were nothing but encouraging. They found their way back to the car without realizing it, but judging by the number of closed shops, several hours had passed. The return trip was once again at breakneck speed, and Harry made Tonks admit she had a tendency do drive on the fast side. She had, in fact, nearly received a speeding ticket the first weekend she had the car.
"But I talked my way out of it, so it doesn't count," she claimed.
When they arrived at her parents' house, music filtered from the living room.
"The sound of the first eighteen years of my life," Tonks said with a fond smile.
"Yeah? What is this?"
She gave him a strange look. "It's the Beatles, babe. Your pop culture education is sadly lacking, isn't it? Don't worry, I'll take care of it. My parents are Beatles fanatics. I grew up on this stuff. Mum was horrified the first time I bought a Sex Pistols album."
"A Sex Pistol?" he repeated. "That sounds painful." Tonks laughed so hard she walked into a wall. After they shed their coats, they found Ted and Andromeda at the source of the music. Ted looked up from behind the Daily Prophet with a smile. "We were wondering where you went off to. I hope she wasn't too much trouble, Harry."
"Nothing I haven't dealt with before." Grinning as Tonks stuck her tongue out, he took a seat on the sofa, his feet tired after their long walk. "We had pizza. It was really good. Not something they serve at Hogwarts."
"Oh, did you go to the place in town? It's an old favorite. Dora caught the place on fire on her ninth birthday."
"Dad!"
"Baby, you did." Andromeda appeared from behind the tree, where she had been arranging presents. "The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had to come and put things to rights."
"Mum!" Tonks turned to Harry, who was laughing. "Shut it. At least I never blew up my aunt."
"You blew up your aunt?" Ted blurted.
"It's not what it sounds like," said Harry quickly. He didn't want the Tonkses to think they were hosting a teenage murderer. "I just sort of… accidentally inflated her. And she flew off and had to be punctured." Ted burst out laughing, and even Andromeda wore an amused smile. "How do you know about that?"
"Oh, the AMRS blokes have the biggest mouths in the Ministry."
Ted stood, still chuckling. "I'll be sure not to anger you, Harry, I'm round enough as it is." He patted his belly before folding his paper and tucking it under his arm. "I'm off to bed. Night, Harry. Goodnight, sweetest. Coming, darling?" This was accompanied by a smile for Harry, a kiss on the head for Tonks, and a nod to his wife.
"Yes, I believe I am. Goodnight, you two. Don't stay up too late."
"G'night, Mum. No, leave it on," Tonks said as her mother pointed her wand at the stereo.
When her parents were gone, Tonks kicked off her trainers and rested on the opposite side of the sofa, her feet touching Harry's leg. "Did you have a good day, Harry?"
"Yeah, I did."
"I'm really glad you're here," she said softly.
"Me, too. I would have missed you," he said, feeling bold.
A smile slowly spread across her face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Nothing was said for several minutes. Harry felt about as content as he could be, briefly ignoring all the looming problems in his life. If he had stayed at Hogwarts, he'd probably be laying in his fourposter, feeling sorry for himself.
When the song switched, Tonks suddenly sat up straight, her eyes lighting up. Harry had just long enough to think about how lovely she was before she sprang to her feet, pulling his hands to make him stand as well.
"What—"
"Dance with me," she said simply. "This is one of my favorites."
He tried to pull away. "I don't dance."
"Everyone dances, silly. See, you put this hand here, and" Before he knew what was happening, they were rotating in time with the melody. "Isn't this nice?" she whispered, her face so very close to his own.
Nice? To hold her close, to smell the scent of sweet apples, to gaze at those stormcloud eyes, to smile together when they tripped over their feet? Yes, it was nice, and Harry was in trouble. And then she leaned in, singing along with the lyrics. "Can't help myself," she sang softly, and he swore she looked right in his eyes. "'Cause baby, it's you."
Harry had no desire to speak when the song ended, wishing to prolong the moment for a very long time. When the next one started, both jumped.
"I'm tired," Tonks said suddenly. "I think I'll call it a night. You?"
"Um, yeah."
Dressed in his pajamas, Harry padded down the hallway to the bathroom to brush his teeth, but it was already occupied by Tonks, clad in her own pajamas and perched on the countertop.
"No, it's fine," she said thickly when he made to leave, her toothbrush still in her mouth. She gestured for him to proceed. After Tonks rinsed, Harry followed, and when he straightened up, he noticed something.
"You have a bit of toothpaste, there," he said with a smile, gesturing to the corner of her mouth.
She brushed at it but missed. He laughed, and without thinking he reached out and rubbed off the toothpaste with his thumb.
As he pulled his hand away, Tonks caught his wrist, an unreadable expression on her face, her eyes both challenging and curious. They looked at each other for a infinite moment, and then, unsure of what he was doing, Harry slid one hand around her waist and pulled her close. Her hand, warm to the touch, climbed into his hair, and their eyes remained locked while their heads moved closer as if magnetized.
"I would really like to kiss you again," he mumbled, his mouth mere inches from hers.
"Okay," she murmured in response.
So gently he wasn't sure it was actually happening, they met in a kiss. Delightfully minty, her soft lips pressed against his with just the right amount of pressure. Their kiss was neither short nor long, passionate nor chaste. It was sweet and tender and right, just as their first kiss should have been. When they pulled away, they simply gazed at each other.
"That was nice," she said softly with a small smile. "Goodnight, Harry. Sweet dreams."
"Goodnight, Tonks," he called after her, fairly floating to his own room, wondering if he would get the chance to dream at all with his mind so fixated on the Shakespeare-quoting, oft-laughing, always-tripping Metamorphmagus sleeping just down the hall.
Harry's first few days at the Tonks household passed in a pleasant blur of shopping, movies, late nights, and equally late mornings. He and Tonks spent one memorable afternoon in an empty car park, teaching Harry how to drive. Once he understand the mechanics of shifting, he thought he did pretty well. By the end Tonks deemed him "passable, but slow" and squealed the tires leaving. Ted and Andromeda took to him, and in turn he to them. Mild-mannered Ted appeared to enjoy the sparring matches between his wife and daughter, though he was often forced to referee. He was an avid follower of both Quidditch and football, a hardcore fan of Puddlemere United and Arsenal, and after Harry showed the slightest interest, Ted enthusiastically included him in daily conversations about the clubs.
Andromeda, for her part, made Harry's favorite dishes, coaxed him into taking seconds at each meal, and showed just as much interest in his life as she did her own daughter's. It took barely a day for Harry to feel at home around the dinner table. And if they were aware of his burgeoning relationship with Tonks, they didn't seem to mind. That, of course, was the best part. Tonks's affinity for affection had only increased, and much of their alone time was marked by lazy kisses. Given that her parents both had jobs, it was often just the two of them.
Not that he was complaining.
Late one night, her parents asleep, Tonks and Harry stretched out on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, as they had fallen into a routine of doing, toasting various treats and either talking or reading from her impressive library of Auror training literature.
"So what he's saying is that there's more to casting than the incantation and wand movement,"
Tonks explained, flipping the page of a large tome in front of her. "If you understand the theory behind it—what the flick does, what the swish adds, why the order is important—then your spell will be that much better."
Harry smiled, pulling his toasting fork out of the fire to see if his marshmallow was done. "You know, I never would have marked you for a reader."
"I don't read for fun. Remus or Hermione, for example, like knowledge for knowledge's sake; they read because they enjoy it. I read to become a better Auror."
"Why don't you show this side of you more often?" Harry asked.
"What side?"
"This whole serious, responsible Auror side."
She tilted her head. "You don't like it when I'm not?"
"Not at all," he clarified in a hurry. "I like every side of you."
"I bet you do. Front and back."
"No, that's not what I mea- hey!" Harry lunged at the marshmallow she had just plucked from his grasp, inches from his mouth. With a surprised squeak, she was pinned to the floor beneath him, but every time he reached for the melted confection, she morphed her arm longer out of his reach.
"Come on! That was mine!"
"Say the magic word," she taunted. Instead Harry bent his head to capture her lips, feeling them curve in a smile against his as he tugged the marshmallow out of her now-sticky fingers. "That works, too."
Harry grinned triumphantly, but his second attempt to eat the treat was thwarted as well when she stole it once again, this time with her own mouth instead of fingers. He stared down at the smug face of the Metamorphmagus, her comely visage slightly marred by the sweet that wasn't entirely within her mouth.
"I win," she mumbled, her words muffled.
Harry looked at her with disbelief for a long moment before dropping onto the soft rug next to her, laughing loudly. Absolutely irrepressible, he thought to himself, a situation made even more ridiculous given that it started with a conversation about her being serious.
"Hey, Tonks?" he ventured when their laughter had subsided, taking advantage of their relaxed moods before his courage failed him.
"Hmm?"
"Would you, er, go out with me? Like on a proper date?"
She rolled over, resting her chin and hands on his chest. The gleam in her eye told him her answer before she spoke. "Sure. What do you have in mind?"
"Dinner. Somewhere nice."
"Lovely. Tomorrow night?"
"It's a date, then." Harry grinned.
"Can't wait." Tonks winked before climbing to her feet. "I'm knackered and can't possibly eat anything else. Bed is calling my name, babe. You?"
He held up his hands in response, and when Tonks pulled him to his feet, he took the opportunity to grab her waist and kiss her again, still not quite believing he could do this whenever he wanted. When he pulled away, he noticed the silver chain around her neck. "Is that your Ministry medallion? Why are you still wearing it if you don't have to work?"
She frowned. "Didn't I tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"Oh. The Auror office always maintains one team as RRF, or rapid response force. If any emergency pops up, the RRF is the first on the scene. The teams rotate, holding duty for a month, and we landed it this month. Which, now that I reckon, is why I was able to take leave so easily—they knew I'd end up being away from the castle anyway."
Harry took her hand as they walked upstairs. "There go my plans of keeping you by my side for the next two weeks."
Tonks laughed. "Don't worry about it. You're stuck with me, babe. Nothing's going to happen."
Harry desperately tried to flatten his hair, to no avail. He needed some of that Sleekaeazy goop Hermione had used to such great effect for the Yule Ball. For every hair he managed to lay close to his head, two more sprang up wildly.
The voice of his date filtered in from the hallway. "How long are you going to primp? And I'm the woman. I need in—oh, haha." Tonks came to a stop in the doorway of the bathroom, chuckling.
"This could take a while."
Harry scowled at her. "I'm just trying to look nice. You haven't even changed yet."
"That's the very last thing I do. I'll leave you to fight the good fight." With that she ruffled his hair and left, undoing any progress he'd made.
Desisting his fruitless efforts, Harry retreated to his bedroom, selecting a dark green Oxford shirt Tonks had bought him the day before. He had just pulled it on when he heard Tonks swear loudly. A moment later, she burst through his door, trying to button her jeans and push her arms into her dragon-skin jacket at the same time.
"Come on, come on, come on!" she said rapidly, yanking his arm. "I was just called in, we have to go now."
"Go—what—where?" Harry barely managed to grab his own coat before she pulled him down the stairs.
"Come on!" she insisted, still dragging him toward the door, shoving her feet into her boots. "Mum and Dad aren't—you can't—I'll have to—"
Harry was thoroughly confused, and her inability to finish any sentences in her haste only added to that. He had deduced that she had to rush off to work somewhere, but where was she taking—and his thought process was abruptly halted as soon as they passed the door and Tonks twisted on the spot.
They reappeared outside a small, rundown house that looked to be in the middle of nowhere, the smudge of a forest just visible to one side of his peripheral vision. Not that Tonks gave him much time to look around, pushing him toward the front door.
"Tonks, what—" he tried.
"Emergency, must go, will return, bye!" Before he could say anything else, she tapped her medallion and was gone.
More bewildered than ever, Harry drew his wand and looked around. The house wasn't as remote as he originally thought, a road leading to the lights of a village opposite the forest. Tonks had presumably brought him here for a reason, so Harry slowly headed for the door, eyes roving, wand still gripped tightly.
"Er, hello?" he called, knocking.
After a few seconds, footsteps approached the door. "Who's there?"
"Professor Lupin?"
"Harry?" he asked, voice tinged with astonishment. "What are you—wait. What did I give you the first time we met?"
"Chocolate, on the Hogwarts Express, after the dementors, third year."
The door swung open to reveal the scarred, prematurely aged face of Harry's former (and still favorite) professor. "What are you doing here, Harry? And where's Tonks?"
"I honestly don't know where Tonks is," Harry began. "She—"
"Hold on," Lupin interrupted, glancing around uneasily. "Come inside."
Once seated in a rickety chair, a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Harry told Lupin about Tonks's emergency and her bewildering stop at his house.
"I suspect she didn't want you to be left alone, but she should have made sure I was here," Lupin said when he finished.
"I don't need to be babysat," Harry ground out.
"Of course you don't. No one thinks that, least of all Tonks. But she's only looking out for you. Suppose whatever emergency she ran off to was nothing but a fabrication to get her out of the house, leaving you alone. No wards can stand forever."
Harry made an evasive noise deep in his throat. What was the point of Tonks training him if she didn't think he could defend himself?
"I often think of how like your parents you are," Lupin continued. "But this facet of your personality, this deep-seated desire to be independent, is something all your own. Though believe me, I understand not wanting to accept help." He waved his hand around the house, wearing a bitter smile. "And anyway, I'm glad to see you. I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk at the Order meeting."
"I didn't get much of a chance to talk to anyone at that meeting."
"No, I suppose you didn't." A long pause. "What did you want to happen when you showed up?"
Harry leaned back in his chair. "Best case scenario, for Dumbledore to listen. But honestly? I wanted to shake things up. I want to do more, Prof–" He stopped. If he wanted to step up his role, he had to make the others see him as more of an equal. "I was in this from the very beginning, and I can't turn around now, Remus."
Lupin—no, Remus looked up at the use of his first name, but he didn't remark upon it. "That's true. You know, Tonks told me to talk to you when I asked her how all this started. Of course, this was after she cursed at the entire Order."
Harry grinned. "Yeah, she told me."
"Did she tell you she hasn't been back since? Things aren't going so well for us, Harry."
He leaned forward earnestly, resting his elbows on the table. "I know that. That's why we need to do more. I might not be able to fight much yet, but I have ideas, I have money, I—"
Remus held one hand up. "Slow down. While I agree that we haven't managed to do much fighting back, the last thing we need to do is to start fighting amongst ourselves. That's exactly what he wants."
"I don't want to split up the Order. I want to join. It's just like the summer after he came back. I want to know what's going on." Harry hesitated before making a decision. This was the only one of his parents' friends he had left, the man who taught him to face fear and saved him from a suicidal run after Sirius. "Do you know there's a prophecy?"
A complex range of emotions fluttered across the scarred face. "Yes, but you don't have to fulfill it."
"I don't, but he won't stop until he does. So I either sit and wait while others die around me, or I get ready to face him."
Nothing was said as Remus stood and refilled their mugs, but before he sat down, he patted Harry's shoulder. "You are your father's son."
"I couldn't be anyone else."
Remus smiled. "I see Tonks has influenced your snarky side. How is she?"
"She's Tonks. She's great."
"I can see from your grin that she is, indeed." Harry ducked his face, his grin widening, but when he looked back up, Remus wouldn't make eye contact, tugging at his collar uncomfortably. "We don't, ah, need to talk about anything, do we?"
"What do you mean?"
Remus cleared his throat. "I mean, you and Tonks, well, she's a grown woman, and, er, she may expect more, and, you know, there are things you need to know about that."
Harry colored, immediately dropping his gaze to his tea. "Please don't tell me you're trying to give me the safe sex talk."
"Well, if you need—"
"I've got it," Harry said tightly. "I know how to be safe, and we're not you know."
"Oh, good." There was no mistaking the relief in his voice as each man looked anywhere but at the other.
Determined not to blush anymore, Harry tried to think of something, anything else to discuss. "So how are your missions with the werewolves?" he said in a loud voice. It wasn't exactly the best topic, but anything was better than awkward silence.
At any rate, the werewolf himself seized upon it. "Not too great. Frankly, Greyback offers them much more than I can. Until the Ministry and people themselves change their attitudes, it's tempting to support someone who lets you do as you wish."
"Do you need anything? I can pay for Wolfsbane."
Remus smiled harshly. "Thank you, but the others barely tolerate me as it is. I'd lose whatever respect I've earned by using Wolfsbane. Though there is someone—"
"Lupin, your bloody pipes are acting up again."
Both turned at the new voice, and Harry's eyebrows shot into his hair. Standing at the edge of the hallway that led to the rest of the house was a young man wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
"Will you fix the damn things?" Without even a glance at Harry, the stranger turned and walked away.
"This is not what it looks like," Remus said before Harry could speak.
"Who am I to judge your private life?"
"It's not—" He moderated his voice. "It's not that at all. He's a werewolf, newly turned. His parents are dead and he has nowhere else to go. He's young, near your age, and the only thing keeping him from joining Greyback is that his mother died in the same attack when he was bitten. I'm trying to help him."
"Wait a second," Harry said slowly. "I think I read about this in the paper last month they said someone was missing."
"That's him," Remus confirmed. "He was well, no one wants to admit they've been bitten, especially at first. Listen, I'm going to fix the shower. If he comes out, don't take his attitude personally. He can be very difficult, but he's been through a lot."
Sure enough, not long after Remus walked away, the younger werewolf returned, thankfully dressed this time. Even under his clothes, Harry could tell he was thickly muscled, and his shaved head merely added to his menacing demeanor.
He didn't bother with Harry until he had fixed a sandwich. Then, leaning against the stove, he stared at Harry with very dark eyes. "I figured Lupin for a poofter," he said by way of introduction.
"Excuse me? You think—he and I? No, no, no. Not at all," said Harry quickly.
"Why are you here, then? The famous Harry Potter."
Damn scar. "Visiting. He was a friend of my parents. And since you know who I am"
"I'm sure you know why I'm here, so I'd say we're even," he retorted. Not at all sure he liked this person, Harry merely held his gaze until he rolled his eyes. "Eric Rosier." Rosier. Harry racked his brain, trying to remember where he'd heard that name before. "Yeah, you're not the only one who has famous parents." He barely moved his mouth when he talked. "Evan Rosier, big, bad Death Eater. Killed before I was even born."
Even more uncertain now that he knew he was speaking with the son of a Death Eater, Harry struggled to keep the conversation going. "Sorry to hear about your mother."
Eric squeezed his sandwich so hard a drop of mustard splattered on the floor. "I don't need your pity."
Shrugging, Harry picked at a splinter on the table. He didn't need attitude from an angry werewolf. He hoped Tonks would be back soon, not only because he wanted to leave, but also because the longer she was gone the higher the possibility that she was in danger.
"All fixed!" Remus announced, his face darkening as he took in the two sullen teenagers. "I see you've met."
"Can't you tell we're the best of mates now?" muttered Eric sarcastically. "Thanks for arranging the playdate."
"All he's trying to do is help you," Harry snapped, standing up. "You could show a little gratitude."
"Fuck off, golden boy Gryffindor. You don't know anything about me. Why don't you go back to your perfect little life with your money and your fame and your friends and leave the filthy werewolves alone?"
"Eric," Remus began, but Harry waved him away.
"How do you know I'm a Gryffindor?"
Eric sneered. "I was only a year ahead of you. My mum was ill, so I left school to go see her, and we know how well that turned out."
"Hogwarts, huh? Let me guess—Slytherin."
"Yeah. What's it to you? And everyone says Slytherin are the prejudiced ones. I can see it in your eyes—pureblood, wealthy, Death Eater in the making." He took a step closer. "Let me tell you something, Potter. I may be a pureblood, but we didn't have a knut to our name. And future Death Eater? The minute my father died, they didn't give two shits about who he left behind."
Harry stared, shocked. Was he just as bad as those he despised, assuming he knew it all because of someone's last name? Everything, from the clipped words to the taut muscles to the clenching hands to the revulsion in Eric's eyes, spoke of barely contained rage. Against Death Eaters, against Voldemort, against Greyback, against himself, even. And then Harry made a snap decision.
"Then how about you stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually do something?" Did that really just come out of my mouth?
"What should I do?" Eric snarled. "I have no family, I have no friends, I'll never be able to get a job, to be normal."
Harry gestured at Remus, who stood stock still between the two as if a barrier. "Remus was five when he was bitten. Five. Hadn't even begun to live. And he is one of the best men I know. Yeah, he has it hard, but he has people who love him and a cause to fight for." Remus made to speak, but Harry kept going before he lost steam. "You think I have a perfect life? That I'm normal? I've lost both my parents and my godfather to Voldemort. He personally tried to kill me five times. He tortured me with the Cruciatus. He killed a friend in front of my eyes simply because he was in the way. You're not the only one with a grudge."
Remus glanced from one to the other warily, Harry cautious, Eric distrustful. Finally the older boy spun around and gripped the countertop, and Harry allowed himself to breathe, as it didn't appear his life was in danger any longer. He didn't know what had come over him, had no idea, even, where the words had come from. He was just as surprised as Remus and Eric about what had just happened.
"How about I make some dinner?" Remus said quietly, and the kitchen was silent for a long time beyond the noises of cooking.
The three sat to a simple meal of split pea and ham soup. Eric remained silent, casting measured glances at Harry as if sizing him up. Remus and Harry talked quietly about the Order, making plans about arrange a meeting over the holiday. Finally deciding that Tonks wasn't coming back, Remus prepared to take Harry back to the Tonkses'.
"I'll be back in just a minute," he told Eric, who jerked his head in a nod.
Harry and Eric exchanged a glance, but there was nothing more to say. He was obviously fighting his own inner battles.
Remus escorted Harry via side-along apparition, just as Tonks had. Harry couldn't wait to come of age in July and travel on his own, although he figured he'd probably be guarded even more since that was when his mother's protection over him dropped. At the door, Remus turned back to Harry after they said their goodbyes.
"Please don't take this wrong way, but be careful with Tonks."
Again, Ron's words returned to haunt Harry. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.
"She's quite a bit older than you, and at your age I hope you aren't getting in over your head."
"I can handle it."
Remus nodded. "I'm sure you can. And Harry? Thank you for what you said earlier."
"You're welcome. I hope I wasn't too harsh. It was like I wasn't in control of what I was saying."
"I actually think it will be good for him."
Harry walked in quietly, hoping to see Tonks, but all he found was Ted in the living room watching the news on the television.
"Hello, Harry. We wondered what you two were up to." Ted glanced behind Harry, his face turning puzzled. "Where's Dora?"
"She's not back yet?"
Ted shut off the television, glancing at Harry with concern. "Back? From where?"
"Nymphadora's gone?" Andromeda appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.
"She was called into work hours ago. I've been with Remus Lupin." Harry looked between the two.
"I assumed she was here by now."
"Well, these things can take a long time," Ted said, looking not at Harry but at his wife. "I'm sure she's alright."
"Of course she is," Andromeda replied a bit shortly. She turned her gaze to Harry as if noticing him for the first time. "Are you hungry, dear? We've eaten, but I can make you whatever you'd like."
"No, thank you, I ate with Remus."
"Good, that's good."
Harry stayed up with the Tonkses as long as he could, determined to wait until the Auror returned. Ted was the first to depart, entreating his wife to accompany him. She declined and sat with a book in her lap as the clock moved on. Harry didn't see her turn a single page.
"Go to bed, Harry," she said softly, startling him out of a doze he wasn't aware of.
"I'm not—" A yawn nearly split his face in half.
Andromeda smiled. "Yes, you are. Go on."
Perhaps it was the two decades of mothering an unruly Metamorphmagus, but there was something about her voice, gentle yet adamant, that made Harry walk away without a word. He turned back near the top of the stairs; Andromeda still sat in an armchair, her book on the same page it had been all night