Chapter 18

Tonks froze.

Even as she cursed herself for her useless reaction, she was paralysed by fear.

Bellatrix lifted her gaze from Tonks's feet to her face and then her glittering black eyes raked back down Tonks's body.

Finally getting a hold of herself, Tonks threw the most powerful stunner she could muster at Bellatrix. Even before the red light appeared, Tonks knew her movements were hopelessly slow - a witch far less adept than Bellatrix would easily avoid the curse.

But Bellatrix didn't block the curse. It hit her square in the chest, a scorching red beam of light reflecting off her moon-pale, bony sternum.

Nothing happened.

Wearing a maniacal grin, Bellatrix began walking toward her.

Shaking herself, Tonks fired again - the charge was weaker, her magic having been depleted from the overpowered and under-accelerated spell she'd just cast. Subconsciously, she backed toward the door as she did so.

Bellatrix snarled, then flexed her freakishly skinny, pale bicep to bring her wand up near her face. She held it in a clenched fist, like someone would hold a dagger with which they were about to stab.

Tonks shielded, anticipating a bizarrely nasty curse that her aunt had personally invented.

Bellatrix advanced, wand still held like aloft like she planned to physically stab Tonks with it. Tonks couldn't decide whether or not she was lucky that the older woman had not yet cast a single spell. The anticipation was dreadful but when it came, the spell would be quick, strong and hideous.

Safely tucked behind her shield - which she estimated she could hold for another five seconds at best - Tonks's panic response eased enough for her brain to begin working.

Bellatrix plays with her food. She likes to taunt and gloat. Why isn't she speaking? She's a master duellist - why aren't I crucio'd?

Relief flowed down her spine like a cool shower.

'Bellatrix' was a boggart.

The relief was briefly replaced by panic, as Tonks scrambled to make Bellatrix-fucking-Gormlaith-Lestrange 'funny'.

It really was amazing that so few people knew the Black family had more west-coast Scottish ancestry than southern English. Ironically, the Black family were related to the Gaunts by marriage - through a halfblood family with roots in eastern Ireland and western Scotland. Tonks momentarily wondered if Bellatrix had deliberately modelled herself on Gormlaith Gaunt. Really, the Gaunts were a sad lot, apparently having disowned their last living descendant for marrying a muggle-

That's it!

Hastily, Tonks imagined her ferocious, battle-hardened Aunt not in Azkaban robes, nor in the nunnish tunic she wore in Andromeda's only photo of her, but in a disgustingly ostentatious meringue of a bridal gown.

"Ridikulus!" Tonks yelled, though it had been years since she had first wordlessly dispelled her boggart. Boggart Bellatrix was different somehow; she warranted the strongest and loudest spell Tonks could master.

The whole thing was a frothy monstrosity. The sleeves were big puff sleeves. The skirt was a cloud of tulle. The bodice was studded with pink flowers. Bellatrix had flowers in her matted hair. Oh, and a veil. An enormous one. And a tiara, set with gaudy, large pink rhinestones…

The door burst open with a thud. There, looking very undignified in his T-shirt and boxers, stood a wide-eyed Remus.

He looked from the bridal monstrosity back to Tonks, and almost immediately amusement displaced horror.

"You put Bel-" Remus began, but could not finish as his laughter overcame him. "You put Bellatrix…Bellatrix…"

"In a wedding dress," Tonks supplied, smirking.

Privately, Tonks reckoned that she was too shaken to find Bridal Bellatrix funny enough to laugh enough to dispel a boggart. It was lucky that Remus had appeared, and appreciated her idea of a joke. She tried not to draw broader conclusions about compatibility from that.

The boggart began to slowly shift, alternating between Bridal Bellatrix and a full moon.

Boldly, Tonks reached for Remus's arm.

Remus never uttered a sound, but the moon became a blown-up condom and then disintegrated with a pop.

"It was a fucking boggart," Tonks snorted. "And I fell for it. I somehow thought Bellatrix had broken out of Azkaban, got past Dumbledore's fidelius, and was waiting in a wardrobe in Grimmauld Place just to get me. A junior auror."

Remus's brow creased adorably.

"Tonks, on occasion boggarts can terrorise even the very best wizards. You did not come into this room expecting a boggart, did you?" Remus cajoled.

He was absolutely right - surprise boggarts could be awful, though no accomplished auror or proud Order member would admit to that. Tonks felt a renewed wave of pity for Sirius, trapped in a boggart-infested house with a dementor for a boggart, and unable to cast a patronus.

"Ah - no, it didn't even enter my head," Tonks said. "I just heard a noise. Never even thought of boggarts until Bellatrix hadn't finished me off, and my brain started working again and reminded me of where I was."

Remus snorted.

"You got there in the end, Ny- sorry - Tonks, and everyone has their moments. Surprise boggarts can be very difficult."

"I wanted to get a coffee from the kitchen, without being noticed," Tonks said, feigning more casual confidence than she actually had. "But I've missed the boat, haven't I?"

Remus shrugged.

"Maybe we could go for breakfast together?" Tonks asked, unable to hold the casually confident tone.

Remus flinched, his adorably unguarded smile evaporating.

"Tonks, I can't afford to eat out again for a while," he said.

Ah. Indian takeout with her had depleted his meagre savings more than he'd been willing to admit.

"Call it my treat," Tonks replied breezily; in her head, she immediately replaced toast with roast tomatoes and bacon and with a slice of marmalade toast, or a croissant. If she bought him a proper, fancy breakfast, he'd be impossibly embarrassed and apologetic.

"No," said Remus. "No, I can't and I won't."

"Remus, I'm just offering to buy you a coffee and toast, it's not exactly a ten course meal," Tonks said, incredulousness turning to righteous anger.

Remus looked at his feet, but said nothing.

"Remus, please can we at least go for a coffee?" Tonks tried again, desperation creeping into her voice.

*****break*****

He relented, and was graciously cheerful about it. He looked deep into her eyes as they walked and talked in the direction of Diagon Alley. He smiled and blushed at what she said. He didn't flinch when she took his arm. For a moment, she let herself believe that they were together.

She took Remus to a little coffee cart in Diagon Alley, where she quietened his mutterings about "I'm not Thant hungry" with a quick kiss, and then bought coffee and ham and cheese croissants for them both. Remus's coffee order - late with two sugars - surprised her.

"I…I need to pop into Borgin and Burkes," said Tonks hastily.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Call it a mix of auror business and personal fascination," she confessed. "I went there that time you saw me morphed as the sexy, tall, dark-haired witch-" here he had the grace to blush "-anyway, they have some very interesting things."

"They do?" Remus asked, recovering from his earlier embarrassment and quirking an eyebrow in a way that made Tonks want to kiss him.

"Oh yes," she said grimly. "Jewellery that wards off dementors and lets you barge through most normal wards."

Remus grimaced.

"Exactly," said Tonks. "Those items have loads of dark uses and so I've decided they can't fall into the wrong hands. I'm off to…acquire something."

"I'm not sure I can accompany you," said Remus, embarrassed. "I would be recognised and, as I am a somewhat famous werewolf, word would spread."

"Sure you don't want me to disguise you?" Tonks asked, waving her wand coquettishly.

"I will wait at the corner of Diagon and Knockturn," he said. "Any problems, shout - or send your patronus."

For a moment, Tonks was almost relieved. She felt a thrill in her stomach as she realised she would get to go to Borgin and Burkes alone. Maybe she would find another fascinating item, and buy herself a present?

Tonks morphed herself again, and transfigured her clothes into something classier. She was a tall woman in her forties with red hair, brown eyes and neat, minimalist robes.

She crept through the front door, and silently stole into the large, dusty shop. Then she ruined the effect by stubbing her toe.

Her yelp summoned Mr Borgin, who was only slightly less obsequious than he'd been to her tall, sexy, dark haired witch.

"I do apologise," Tonks said, desperately channeling her mother. "I must have tripped - anyway, I want to buy an article my friend told me you stock."

"And what would that be?" Mr Borgin asked.

Tonks smiled slightly, imagining Sirius's face when she presented him with his Christmas present.

"I hear you have dementor-repelling Pictish hair rings," said Tonks.

"We sold them yesterday," commiserated Mr Borgin.

"To who?" Tonks asked, before she could stop herself.

"A tall, black woman," said Mr Borgin. "Well, actually coffee-coloured."