4 November 1995

"Minerva!" Remus greeted the deputy headmistress warmly, surprised to find her already seated in the basement kitchen with Sirius and Tonks; the Order meeting that evening wasn't set to begin for another forty minutes. "You're here early."

Minerva gave him a look. "Miss Tonks and Mr. Black have been…entertaining me," she said dryly, and Remus grinned.

"How's Harry?" Remus asked her, slipping into a seat at the table. "Is everything all right up at the castle? I haven't been able to find out much from Hogsmeade."

"He hasn't written in a bit," Sirius added in a flat voice—which would have sounded indifferent if not for the bitter edge to his tone. Remus shot him a frown.

"Yes, well, don't expect to hear from him too often anymore," Minerva said darkly, looking at Sirius. "His owl was injured in flight last time it flew back to the castle from Grimmauld Place."

"What?" Tonks asked, eyes widening. "Injured—how?"

"Searched," said Remus bleakly before Minerva could respond, and Minerva nodded, her expression grim.

"Dolores Umbridge is inspecting the post—it's the only explanation," she revealed in a cold voice, and Tonks and Sirius looked horrified. "My brother's owl was hurt trying to deliver a letter to me, as well, and Pomona had an order of fertilizer from Diagon Alley delayed nearly three weeks. Severus and Filius have decided to forgo owl post altogether."

Sirius swore under his breath. Tonks elbowed him, nodding meaningfully in Minerva's direction—but Minerva, for her part, didn't seem to care.

"Meanwhile, Potter's been bearing the brunt of Dolores's infuriating meddlesomeness," Minerva continued heavily, rubbing her forehead. She looked up at Remus, her mouth set in a thin line. "He's just received a lifetime ban from Quidditch, along with the Weasley twins."

"What?" Tonks yelped, looking outraged. Sirius swore again, louder this time. Remus just gaped at Minerva, unable to believe his ears.

"She's power hungry," Minerva said in a steely voice. "Every week, she wheedles Fudge into passing some idiotic new measure, granting her more jurisdiction and more privileges. At this rate…"

She trailed off, but Remus didn't need to hear anymore to understand what this all meant. Exchanging somber glances with Tonks and Sirius, he knew they were all thinking the same thing. Hogwarts had been compromised.

There were a few moments of stifling silence, and Remus's heart hammered against his chest, his blood rushing. Across the table, Sirius appeared to be trying to burn a hole into the table with his eyes.

Then, Tonks cleared her throat.

"I've ordered a cake for you, Professor," she said, in an impressive attempt at a cheerful tone. "It should be here in a few minutes."

Minerva looked at her, narrowing her eyes warily. "Cake."

"We owe you a very belated birthday celebration, don't we?" Tonks continued brightly—and at this, even Sirius looked up, eyebrows raised. "It'll be after the meeting today. You should have said something last month, Professor. We don't skip birthdays here at the grimy, old headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

Minerva appeared to be fighting back a groan. "Who told you?" she asked Tonks in a low voice. Immediately, Minerva snapped her gaze onto Remus, eyes sharp, but he held his hands up, shaking his head.

"It wasn't me," he promised, and Tonks grinned.

"Mad-Eye let it slip to me and Kingsley a couple nights ago," Tonks told Minerva apologetically, though she had a beaming smile on her face. "We couldn't resist."

Minerva cradled her head in her fingertips, closing her eyes. "I'm going to kill Alastor."

"But this is brilliant," Sirius burst out elatedly, eyes gleaming. He jumped to his feet. "What shall I cook for your birthday feast, Professor? Haggis? Grouse? The sky's the limit, I promise."

Remus couldn't help but laugh at the look of horror on Minerva's face. He glanced at Tonks, smiling appreciatively, and she gave him a nod, eyes twinkling.


17 November 1995

"Merlin's pants, I'm famished."

Remus looked at Tonks, smiling. "I don't think we've got much back at the townhouse, but I could try and whip something up."

The two of them had just finished their patrol of Knockturn Alley. Glancing at his watch, Remus saw that he had just about an hour before he was due at the Department of Mysteries to relieve Emmeline from guard duty.

"Oh, no, don't bother with cooking," Tonks shook her head. "I'll just grab something to eat in Diagon Alley—Chinese, maybe." Her eyes lit up suddenly at the thought, and she quickened her pace up the cobbled street, glancing sideways at Remus. "Care to join?"

Remus blinked, taken aback. "Er—well, I've got to get to the Ministry…"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Oh, relax, you've got an hour to kill," she reminded, elbowing him. "C'mon, don't you like Chinese food?"

"You know, I don't actually know," Remus said, smiling bemusedly at the determined look on Tonks's face.

Tonks stopped abruptly in her tracks and gaped at him.

"You've never tried Chinese food?" she breathed, eyes wide.

"I imagine there are a great number of things I've never tried," Remus said lightly.

"Oh, my—well, that settles it, then," Tonks exclaimed, seizing the hem of Remus's sleeve and practically railroading him down the street. "Chinese food is…Merlin, I can't even do it justice by trying to describe it, really. I think I ate it for dinner every weekend growing up. See, it makes my parents sentimental—they ordered it three times a week back when my mum was pregnant with me and they were living in a tiny Diagon Alley flat together on sickles and knuts."

Remus tried to reconcile the stoic, stern-looking image of Andromeda Tonks that he'd built up in his head from Sirius and Tonks's fond conversations with this new image of a woman who ate takeaway Chinese food in a tiny Diagon Alley flat, but his imagination came up short. Then again, he thought in amusement, as Tonks chivvied him toward the archway that marked the entrance to Diagon Alley, it was just as hard to imagine Andromeda raising a daughter like Tonks.

Minutes later, they were seated on opposite ends of a small table at Liu's Lucky Wok, off the northeast end of Diagon Alley's high street. Tonks had spent several minutes trying to teach Remus how to use the wooden chopsticks they'd both received with their meals, but by the end of the lesson, Remus had been quite content to conjure himself a fork. Tonks had chided him for not having a better sense of adventure, and he had assured her that he'd had plenty of adventure growing up with James Potter and Sirius Black, thank you very much, and she had laughed that loud, infectious laugh of hers that always made Remus's stomach curl inwards in a bizarre, warm, unfamiliar manner.

Now, they were talking about work. Conversations with Tonks flowed so easily and naturally that it was difficult for Remus to believe he'd only known her four months.

"So, what were you doing before the Order?" Tonks asked with interest, chewing on a bite of sesame chicken.

Remus speared a piece of his own chicken with his fork, looking up at her with a wry expression.

"Before I joined the Order, I was a Hogwarts student," he said.

Tonks snorted, rolling her eyes. "Two wars haven't dimmed your wit, have they?"

"I should hope not," Remus chuckled.

"All right, I'll rephrase," Tonks offered, eyes twinkling. "Where were you employed immediately preceding your affiliation with the Second Order of the Phoenix, Mr. Lupin?"

"I was a teacher," Remus grinned. "In Yorkshire."

Tonks raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised. "What were you teaching in Yorkshire?"

"Little of this, little of that," Remus said offhandedly, stirring some rice and chicken together in his plate. "Mostly maths—it was a Muggle school in a poor village, so they were always out maths teachers."

Tonks stared at him. "I didn't know you worked at a Muggle school," she said softly.

Remus swallowed his mouthful of chicken heavily, not meeting her eyes. "Well, Muggle employers aren't quite as astute about their employees putting in absences around the full moon every month," he said, shrugging. "I worked plenty of Muggle jobs—ones that most people would call menial—before and after I taught at Hogwarts."

Tonks gazed at him for a long moment, and Remus found himself suddenly unable to avoid her eyes. Under the intensity of her gaze, he felt something inside him twist into a knot.

Then, picking up her chopsticks, Tonks shook her head, a small smile on her face. "You know, I wish I'd had a teacher like you at Hogwarts," she said. "I might have actually learned something."

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. "You certainly did something right to be an Auror."

"Mum says I made it through by the skin of my teeth," Tonks told him honestly. "Professor Sprout was a huge help, but it was grit more than anything else that got me through all those damn N.E.W.T.s and into the Academy. I worked myself to death to get that acceptance letter." She paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Hogwarts really isn't a very kind place for people who don't fit the norm."

Remus looked at her in admiration. "No, it isn't," he said softly.

Tonks glanced up and caught his gaze. Then, to his surprise, she blushed slightly and looked back down at her food. For the second time that evening, Remus felt something inside him stir, and a strange rush of warmth filled his stomach.

Remus blinked several times, alarmed. Then, giving his head a little shake, he continued swiftly, "So—tell me about the Academy."


12 December 1995

Remus frowned down at the Flourish and Blotts mail order form that a screech owl had just returned to Grimmauld Place. Stamped across the top of the form in bright red ink was the word 'Denied.'

"Padfoot?" Remus called, as he walked slowly out of his bedroom and onto the landing, still frowning down at the form. "Padfoot, our mail order for Harry's Christmas present came back denied—are you sure you put your vault information down correct—?"

Remus stopped dead at the foot of the staircase, his eyes widening. Standing by the front door of the townhouse, wearing a set of shimmering midnight blue dress robes that hugged every curve and angle of her body, was Tonks. But her spiky bubblegum pink hair was gone, and in its place was a heap of soft brown waves, piled high on her head in an elegant knot. A few wispy curls fluttered about her face as she turned and looked at Remus.

"Oh—wotcher, Remus," she grinned at him. "I was just waiting for Sirius. He said I could borrow some of his mum's old jewelry for tonight."

Remus blinked. "Tonight?" he asked, his voice coming out much croakier than he'd meant it to.

"Stupid Law Enforcement holiday party," Tonks rolled her eyes, grimacing as she tried to tug a piece of unruly blue fabric straight. "My mum dresses me every year—can you tell?"

Remus gazed at Tonks, openmouthed. Tonks stared back at him, her smile fading slightly. She blinked several times.

"Have I got something on my face?" she asked nervously, reaching up and patting her hair.

"No—no," Remus said hoarsely, taking a step forward. "I'm sorry…" he trailed off, trying to collect himself. Merlin's beard, what the hell was wrong with him? "It's just…your hair…"

Tonks looked embarrassed. "Er—yeah, it's the hair I was born with. Mum insisted," she said under her breath, looking away from Remus.

"It's…nice," he said softly, so softly that he wondered if it had been in his head—but Tonks glanced up and caught his gaze, her eyes widening slightly.

At that moment, there was a clatter of footsteps from the upstairs landing, and Remus jumped, tearing his eyes away from Tonks to see Sirius stumping down the staircase toward them. He was in yet another foul mood; the brooding scowl on his face had become something of a permanent fixture in the last several days.

"Here you go," he mumbled, holding a flat velvet box out to Tonks as he reached the foyer. "And don't bother bringing any of it back—it's not like the old hag's around to wear them herself."

"Thanks," Tonks said brightly, seemingly undeterred by Sirius's moodiness. "Shall I put them on and show her?" she asked innocently, nodding toward Mrs. Black's curtained portrait.

Sirius gave a bark-like laugh; it wasn't quite humorous, but it was markedly better than his surly frown. "Now, that, I'd pay to see," he said dryly, leaning back against the banister and smirking at Tonks.

"Ah, well, I'm running late—but if you're both still up when this blasted party's over, I'll stop by and make good on it," Tonks told Sirius with a wink. For some bizarre reason, the sight made Remus's stomach turn over. He looked away.

"Right, then, I'm off," Tonks said, tucking the velvet box under her arm and reaching for the front door. "See you both later?"

"Bye," Sirius waved her out, shutting the door behind her and latching it. Then, shaking his head with an amused half-smile, Sirius turned around and faced Remus.

"What's that you've got?" Sirius asked, frowning at Remus's hands.

Remus looked down, vaguely surprised to find his hands clutching the Flourish and Blotts order form so tightly that it had rumpled. Shaking himself, Remus held the order form out to Sirius.

"Harry's Christmas gift," Remus said, his voice sounding oddly faraway, even to his own ears. "The…purchase was denied…for some reason."

"Huh," Sirius accepted the form, eyebrows knitting. "That's odd. I'll sort it out—thanks, mate."

Sirius clapped his shoulder as he passed, before disappearing up the staircase. Remus watched him go. Then, swallowing, he turned and gazed at the front door for a long moment, wondering whether the lingering scent of Tonks's citrusy, bergamot perfume in the musty foyer was real or entirely in his head.


25 December 1995

"Well—now, don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea—he's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in…er…complementary medicine. I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies…well, they're called stitches, Molly, and they work very well on—on Muggle wounds—"

Arthur stopped talking abruptly as Molly swelled in anger and let out a strangled noise that sounded alarmingly like a snarl. Taking this as his cue to give the married couple some privacy, Remus quickly stepped back from Arthur's hospital bed and sidled up against the wall of the ward. It was hard to believe that, scarcely three hours earlier, Molly had been sobbing into his jumper about Percy returning his Christmas present. Remus couldn't blame Bill and the twins for practically sprinting from the room; Arthur was all but cowering under his wife's razor-like gaze.

"Do you mean to tell me that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?"

"Not messing about, Molly, dear…"

Remus drifted down the ward, making his way toward the man who occupied the room's only other bed—a recently turned werewolf, Remus had learned from Moody that morning. He had seen the man eyeing the large crowd around Arthur's bed just moments earlier, so he didn't believe for an instant that he was now soundly sleeping, no matter how firmly he kept his eyes shut as Remus approached.

"Good afternoon," Remus greeted him quietly.

The man didn't open his eyes, but Remus saw his jaw clench ever-so-slightly.

"I assume you've had much happier Christmases, so I won't ask you how you're doing," Remus continued softly, taking in the bandages that covered most of the man's neck. "But…well, I can tell you that it'll get better from here."

The man opened one eye to shoot Remus a glare. "Oh, can you, now?"

"Yes," Remus said, smiling sadly, "seeing as I'm also a werewolf."

At last, the man opened both his eyes. For a long moment, he gazed at Remus, his expression filled with distrust.

Then— "You're having me on," the man growled, turning away from Remus. "Please—just leave me out of your twisted jokes."

Remus sighed, leaning back against the wall and rubbing his day-old stubble. "I'm not joking," he said. "In fact, you might have even heard of me—I made the front page of the Prophet two years ago, when I resigned from a teaching position at Hogwarts."

The man's eyes widened. "You're that Lupin bloke?"

Remus gave him a rueful smile. "I am."

The man was silent, staring at Remus. Then, with a short, bitter laugh, he turned his gaze up to the ceiling. "Merlin, when I heard about that, I thought Dumbledore had really lost his marbles," he muttered.

"Unsurprising," Remus said. "And now? What do you think?"

The man snapped his eyes back onto Remus. "What, am I supposed to feel differently now?" he asked sharply. "I'm a bloody werewolf, mate—my career is over, my relationship is over, my life…" he trailed off, gritting his teeth. "It would've been better if he'd just killed me," he said in a low voice. "No one will ever—ever want anything to do with me, ever again."

Remus felt a surge of annoyance, and he had to bite back the urge to retort that no, it wouldn't have been better for anyone if he'd died, and yes, of course no one would want anything to do with him if this was the attitude he was going to bring to the table. But then, inexplicably, Remus found himself remembering another conversation—only, then, it had been he who was insisting that he was not worth anyone's time…

"I'm sorry, I just don't believe it. It's not…you must have felt something about joining an organization that has a werewolf in it—"

"D'you honestly think I'm going to think less of you because of a condition that is completely and scientifically outside of your control?"

Remus blinked, his stomach twisting at the memory. Then, swallowing heavily, he looked down at the man again.

"Look," Remus began quietly. "I won't lie to you and say that…that your life is going to return to normal. It's an uphill battle from here—you aren't mistaken about that." He paused, and unexpectedly, Tonks's face flashed across his mind again, indignant and fierce. "But you will find people who care about you—who won't abandon you—in spite of what you are."

The man's expression was doubtful. There was real fear in his eyes, Remus could see—but even more than that, there was longing.

"I know it seems impossible right now," Remus continued softly. "And I can't promise you that it'll ever, ever be easy. But…in the course of your life…you'll meet people who will make you believe—almost against your own will—that someday…it could be easier. And that, more than anything, is what will keep you going."

The man's chin trembled. Clenching his jaw, he turned his gaze back up to the ceiling.

"You know you're barking, right?" he whispered, his voice sticking. "You must be, to have me believing even an inch of what you're saying."

Remus smiled. "Give it five years. If I'm wrong, you can send me a Howler."


14 January 1996

"Please, look after yourselves," Remus told the group of teenagers, as he shook Ron's, Fred's, and George's hands in turn and gave Hermione and Ginny one-armed hugs. He turned to Harry, who was standing at the edge of the group, staring up at the castle with a miserable expression. "And listen," he said quietly; Harry met his eyes, swallowing heavily. "Harry, I know you don't like Snape, but he is a superb Occlumens and we all—Sirius included—want you to learn to protect yourself. So work hard, all right?"

Harry pressed his lips together. "Yeah, all right," he mumbled. For a moment, he gazed up at Remus, and Remus had the strange feeling that he wanted to say something else, undoubtedly about Sirius. But then, with a jerk of his head, he turned away. "See you, then…"

And just like that, he was gone, slipping through the wrought-iron gates with the others and trudging up the snow-splattered grounds toward the school. Remus watched him go for a long while, eyes fixed on the back of his untidy black head as it grew smaller and smaller. Already, there were a million things he wished he'd said instead…that Sirius was being immature and unfair…that Harry was not answerable to anyone for his thirty-six-year-old godfather's happiness, however responsible he might feel. Clenching his teeth against the aching in his throat, Remus turned his gaze to the ground.

Then, he felt Tonks's hand on his wrist, and he glanced at her, swallowing.

"He'll be all right," she said softly.

Remus nodded, unable to speak, but Tonks didn't seem to expect an answer. Gently, she slipped an arm around his waist and, instinctively, he put his arm around her shoulders, and they turned in silence and walked down the Hogsmeade high street together.


Author's Note:

Consider this something of a continuation of Chapter 53: "Remus, so often melancholy and lonely, was first amused, then impressed, then seriously smitten by the young witch."

I think we all know where this is headed...

Ari