O

AMPHILOGIAI

Disputes

January

"What?"

"I'm sorry Hope, I really am, but I don't have a choice. It's the end of January. You've only been to one practice session since we came back to school and our next match is in two weeks."

Mitch was obviously uncomfortable, but standing firm in his duty as captain.

"Mitch-"

"Carlotta is going to take your place against Gryffindor," he pressed on. "I've told her that if you come back to practice from now on, you'll be back on the team to play Hufflepuff in the spring, and she will be back to reserve."

Hope didn't trust herself to speak. Quidditch had been the only element of school that she still enjoyed. Surely she hadn't missed that many training sessions? She hadn't bothered with any the first week, true. The following Thursday she had got into a highly confusing argument with Cadmus and lost track of time. She had skipped another on the pretence of studying – only to lie listlessly on her bed, staring at the ceiling. After her fourth absence, Mitch had taken her aside and warned her that if she didn't come to the next one, he was going to have to think carefully about her spot on the team. And she had honestly meant to go, but it was taking her so long to fall asleep every night that waking up on time was an equal struggle, and when her alarm had sounded and she had barely been able to open her eyes, sleep calling her back instantly. When she had finally dragged herself out of bed, the team were already coming back from their session. Several of them had given her disgusted looks as they headed towards the showers. The following practice had passed her by completely.

Six missed sessions was a lot when there was a match coming up in a fortnight.

"I'm sorry," Mitch said again. "I don't want to do this; you're the best player on the team - in the school even. You have been for years now and I meant it when I said you should have been captain over me. But I am the captain, and I have the others to think of. Your record wasn't great last term, and I can't keep making excuses for you, especially when I already warned you about it."

"Can't you give me one more chance?"

She despised herself for sounding like a child, and it didn't make a difference anyway. Mitch was not to be swayed.

"Come to practice on Thursday." His voice was gentle. "Accept being reserve for this match, and once it's over you'll be back as first chaser and everyone will forget this ever happened."

Hope turned and walked away.

O

Thursday came and Hope went and sat on a bench in the courtyard with a book in her lap, staring blankly at the icicles, remembering sitting on this bench alone a few years ago. But back then, she had been waiting for her friends to finish their lessons before joining her. It felt like a different life.

"Hope?"

She started. Lily Potter was looking down at her. Unusually, she was not accompanied by Hugo, although Hope thought he might be going out with one of his annoying classmates at the moment, which likely meant that for once the two cousins were not joined at the hip.

"What are you doing here? I thought Ravenclaw had quidditch practice Thursday lunchtimes?"

"I - had studying to do." She wasn't sure why she was bothering to lie. They would find out soon enough that she had been kicked off the team.

"Hope..." Lily was biting her lip. "I'm here, you know. If you want to chat. Al said he was worried about you at New Year. He only told me!" she added hastily, as Hope gave her a sharp look. "Not our parents or anything. But we're both a bit concerned - you don't really seem yourself at the moment. You're family, you always have been, even before it became official with Teddy and Vic. Please talk to me if you need to."

Not yourself at the moment.

Hope couldn't remember what feeling like herself meant.

You're bright and cheerful and colourful.

"I don't need to talk, Lils, really," Hope said, forcing the smile and the bright-eyed expression she had so many times before. "I've just got a lot on work-wise. Thanks though!"

oOo

February

Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw. Hope didn't know if her absence had played a part in the defeat or not, but from the disappointed looks she was receiving from all directions it appeared the rest of her house thought as much. All was not lost. Ravenclaw could still scrape a win for the cup and the six year record if the remaining matches went in their favour, and Mitch sought Hope out a couple of times, trying to persuade her to come back to practice. She refused each time. Carlotta as good as begged her to, saying the pressure was immense and Hope was a much better player and surely she wanted her spot back for the final game. Next it was Rosie, no doubt sent at Mitch's request, asking her to reconsider and do what she knew Hope must want to do deep down.

"You love quidditch," Rose protested. "More than anyone I know. Are you sure you aren't doing this out of pique because you weren't made captain?"

As much as Hope loved Rosie, and was in full admiration of her brain and her solid principles, it had to be said that she lacked her mother's tact and diplomacy.

"No," Hope said. "Of course not. Mitch is a great captain and I accept that. But I've got a lot on and I'm out of the rhythm and they're better off without me."

The only person who did not seem to mind that she was no longer playing quidditch was Cadmus, and Hope knew perfectly well that he was pleased she no longer had an excuse to spend time with Mitch. But with even fewer excuses to spend time away from him, her moral was spiralling ever downward.

O

Wiznotes had taken over Hogwarts like nothing in student or staff memory. It was now impossible to walk down a corridor without seeing students scribbling on their pads. The breakfast post traffic had halved. The devices were banned completely in classrooms and hallways. And although Hope's Wiznote only had about three contacts - she hadn't got round to adding the other Weasleys, and she didn't have a reason to message the members of the quidditch team now she had been kicked off the team - the one, minor improvement on the term before was being able to message Teddy every day. She had bought him one for Christmas as per Cadmus's suggestion, and while she did not confide in him any more than she did other people, it was nevertheless comforting to hear his news, updates on their parents and, most excitingly, the progress of his research - in person trials had now been formally approved and would commence in the spring. A small ray of hope in an otherwise bleak winter term.

One cold Saturday afternoon, Hope chewed the end of her quill and tried to think of a suitable response to one of the sections of her charms homework - List three measures put in place over the last decade which mitigate the risks of experimental charms. After surprising herself by knowing the answers to the first page of questions, she was now drawing a blank.

"What have you put for question three?" Cadmus asked, looking up from his own work. He had written even less than she had.

"We're supposed to do these on our own," she reminded him. "No reference material or discussion, remember."

"Oh don't you start." Cadmus put on a lofty imitation of the admittedly pompous charms professor who had taken over from Flitwick the previous year. "You'll only be cheating yourselves by ignoring these instructions. Go on, just tell me what spell you wrote about. I won't copy what you said."

"Fine." Hope flipped back to the previous page and scanned her answer to question three - Comment on a recent discovery in charms and its significance. "The Unbreakable Vow reversal charm," she said, with some reluctance. She had been proud of her answer to that one. Cadmus wrinkled his nose.

"Did you just make that up?"

"Of course I didn't. It's now possible to undo the Unbreakable Vow without causing any harm to those involved. It's only been invented in the past year but it's a big deal - some people are still bound by oaths they made years ago when the spell was all the rage, and there was nothing they could do up until now. They had to keep their oath or die."

"How do you know that? We didn't discuss it in class did we?"

"Mum was telling me about it at Christmas. DaSilva didn't say we could only write about things covered in his lessons."

Cadmus appeared put out, no doubt because, having picked a topic they hadn't discussed in class, it would now look a lot more suspicious if she had the same answer as him. He didn't write anything down for question three.

"What about number four?"

Hope slapped her quill down irritably, spraying several drops of ink over the desk.

"You know what, I'm going to the bathroom. Look at whatever you want." She didn't exactly need to go, but the girls' toilet was one of the few places that Cadmus didn't follow her.

The bathroom was deserted and Hope went straight up to the sink to wash the ink blots off her hands. Her reflection stared back at her from the tarnished mirror, a tall, elegant teenage girl with shiny reddish auburn curls, deep blue eyes and a smattering of freckles splashed across the neat little nose and high cheekbones. Hope bared her teeth at the reflection and the girl grinned back at her, flashing her white even smile, eyes sparkling in the mellow bathroom lighting. Hope closed her mouth and the smile was gone. There was no one around and for a few seconds she let the morph fall away completely, relaxing her face and clearing her mind of all thought. A very different girl was staring back at her now. The long, dark brown hair was dull and lacklustre, eyes slightly bloodshot with deep, dark circles under them. The cheeks had bypassed elegant and entered the unmistakable realms of gaunt - an inevitable result of having no appetite for the past six months.

There was a sound at the door, and with a quick, hard blink, the sad looking girl in the mirror was gone. Bright, shiny Hope was back, and the tiny Hufflepuff first years who had just entered the bathroom stared up at her in obvious awe and intimidation. She flashed them a tight smile before leaving the room.

"I hope I look that good when I'm older," she heard one of them say, before the door closed with a dull thud.

Hope thought about the girl in the mirror as she meandered back to the library, deliberately taking a longer route so as to be absent from Cadmus for as long as possible. She saw her most days now, always in the privacy of the empty dormitory or a deserted bathroom. The rest of the world only saw the first girl. The shiny girl. The colourful girl. The other girl, Hope had taken to calling her, because she had not been able to relate to her reflection for a long time.

Re-entering the library booth, Hope stopped short at the sight that greeted her. Cadmus had abandoned his homework and was scrolling through her Wiznote, which she had left on top of her half-finished homework.

"What the hell are you doing?'

He looked round, apparently unconcerned. "You were a while."

She disregarded this and snatched the Wiznote back from him, staring at him in utter disbelief.

"Seriously, what the fuck?"

"I'm just looking."

"Why are you looking? It's mine. When I said look at whatever you want I meant my homework, not my private messages. What are you hoping to find, anyway? I message you and Teddy. And sometimes Rosie when she gets in a tiz about her NEWT revision. That's literally it."

"I can see that. It was for reassurance, that's all."

"Reassurance?"

Unconcerned he remained but he had crossed a line, and Hope couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. She continued to glare at him.

"I gave it to you in the first place, remember."

"Take it back then." Hope slammed it down on the table. "Go on. I don't want it."

Cadmus froze, and underneath her irritation, disbelief and complete despair, Hope felt a spasm of triumph.

'Go on," she repeated. "If you don't trust me to have one you can take it back.'

She already knew that he wouldn't take it back. Being able to contact her every minute of the day was too important to him. She sat back down, threw the Wiznote in her bag, and continued her homework.

"Didn't think so."

Will you listen to yourself. You know this is not how relationships are meant to be, so why aren't you doing something about it?

oOo

March

Matters with Cadmus did not improve as the weeks wore on, and Hope regularly found herself longing for the days when she hadn't had anyone to pair up with in class. Having Cadmus as a permanent work partner as well as a boyfriend was more than exhausting.

At the end of a disastrous Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, during which Cadmus had calmly criticised every one of her spells out of earshot of the rest of the class as she became steadily more frustrated, finally setting the hem of her robes on fire, Edgecombe called on her to stay behind once again.

"Miss Lupin - a word?"

"What have you done now?" Cadmus demanded, packing up his own bag.

"Nothing." Hope honestly couldn't think of anything she had done wrong this time.

"I'll wait for you outside."

"I can manage the staircase down to the Great Hall on my own. I'm not a moron."

"I'll wait for you outside."

"Fine."

She glared after him as he was the last to leave the room, then stumped up to the teacher's desk.

Edgecombe was watching the door that had shut behind Cadmus, her face rather pale but otherwise unreadable. Then she held out the essay that had been the previous week's coursework.

"I need you to redo this homework. I can't grade this, Lupin, and I know it's not your best work. If you submit an essay tomorrow which meets the brief there will be no punishment."

"Fine," Hope said tonelessly.

She waited to be dismissed, but the professor didn't move.

"Hope." Hope did a double take. This was novel - when had the teacher ever called her anything other than Lupin?

"Are you alright?"

For all her lack of similarity in outward appearance, Hope was reminded forcibly of Professor Flitwick, who had sat behind his desk two years ago, a crease of concern in his forehead, and asked her a very similar question. Her answer was exactly the same.

"Yes Professor. Why?"

Edgecombe looked sadly into her stubborn face.

"Your grades are still below average. Your attention in class is minimal. I'm also aware you're no longer playing quidditch, and-"

"Well, I'm fine, Professor. Honestly." Hope could not bear to hear further reasons as to why she was such a failure.

Edgecombe did not reply straight away. Then, very abruptly, shuffling some papers together on the desk and avoiding eye-contact with her pupil, she said:

"I felt it would be better for you to concentrate on your studies this year without extra responsibilities. That is why I gave the team captaincy to Mr Sullivan."

Hope gaped at her, taken aback.

"Maybe that was a mistake and if so, I apologise. I thought I would be helping you at the time."

Where on earth was this coming from? Edgecombe had apologised to her? Said she wanted to help her. Hope did not understand the teacher and never had. She had always thought Edgecombe hated her, and had been even more convinced since talking to Hermione over Christmas, that it was somehow to do with The Surge and her late partner and that maybe her mother and the other Aurors had been involved in his death. Yet this didn't seem like hatred to her.

Edgecombe was now eyeing the classroom door, behind which Cadmus was undoubtedly waiting. She lowered her voice and spoke so quietly that Hope had to lean in to hear.

"Do you need to speak to someone in private?"

This was getting stranger and stranger, Hope thought in bewilderment. What was going on? Did Edgecombe know about her troubles with Cadmus? But even if she did why on earth would she care about a teenage relationship?

"No."

"It can help, sometimes, you know."

You sound like my mother.

"Well thank you. But there's no need."

"Alright, Hope. You may go. I'm always here if you change your mind. Remember that."

"You're not my mother, you know."

Crap. How on earth had she allowed the words to leave her mouth? Of all the things she kept hidden that could easily be said outloud, and her sealed lips had chosen to let her down now.

Edgecombe's face tightened, but she displayed no other trace of anger for the rashly spoken comment.

"I am well aware of that, thank you Lupin, but I am your teacher and your Head of House. That, I'm afraid, gives me certain powers of authority and a right to be concerned about you."

The fixed, anguished look was back on her face. Hope had seen it before and had not once understood it. She remembered what Albus had told her years before, about Severus Snape hating Harry because he was living proof of his one true love being with someone else. Could it be that Edgecombe resented her existence, because of something to do with her father? Because of something to do with her parents?

You know that doesn't make any sense.

It didn't. But then, nothing made sense anymore.

O

To Cadmus's great displeasure, Hope decided a week before the end of term that she would be heading home for the Easter holidays.

"But I only decided to stay at Hogwarts for you," he protested.

Hope wheeled round to face him. "No you didn't!" she snapped. "You were never going home for Easter. You told me that ages ago."

"I never said that."

"Yes, you did."

Cadmus shook his head. "You never listen to me properly," he said. "It's hurtful, you know."

Confused and upset, Hope turned these words over several times. She did listen to him, didn't she? Wasn't it always Cadmus who didn't listen to her?

"Whatever." Cadmus shrugged. "Do whatever you like Hope. I don't care."

He didn't speak to her for the rest of the day.

A week later, Hope sat alone in a compartment on the train, staring out the window. She had passed several carriages before making her decision. Albus and Scorpius were sitting together and she did not want to be a third wheel, even though it was highly unlikely they would be making out in broad daylight when, as far as she was aware, they hadn't yet told anyone else about their relationship. Lily and Hugo were in a packed compartment with their fourth year friends, which she bypassed quickly while looking the other direction. Eventually she found an empty compartment right at the end of the train and sat down, her head against the glass, mulling over the way she had left things with Cadmus. He had transitioned through a whole range of moods – cold and distant, outright angry at her, loving and pleading - before resuming his icy demeanour, refusing to kiss her or say goodbye properly when she left for the train. She didn't care at all.

I wish he would break up with me.

You could break up with him.

I tried that and it was a disaster.

"Hey, can we join you?"

Michael Longbottom had appeared at the door of her compartment, Esme loitering behind him.

"Most carriages are rammed and we're kind of hoping for a bit of peace and quiet."

"Yeah. 'Course." She gestured to the empty seats. With a humongous effort she summoned a smile and engaged in the general end of term small talk.

"Looking forward to being home?" she asked Esme, who shrugged.

"Yes, but I won't get much peace and quiet for revision," she said. "Katleho will be there with the twins - they are in the scream-until-they're-blue-in-the-face stage." Hope grimaced in sympathy. "And Rosina's signed off work, so she'll be in the whole time as well."

"Signed off work?" Hope had never met Katleho, Esme's oldest sister, but she did know Rosina a little because she worked at St Mungo's with Vic and Teddy and had been at their wedding. "Is she alright?"

"Urgh not really," Esme sighed. "She will be, but she's had loads of trouble with her manager the last few months. It's been an awful time for her and she's completely burnt out. Her boss was Healer Green, on the Poison Side Effect ward. I don't know if your brother's ever mentioned her?"

"Ooh." Hope grimaced again. "No, but Vic has. She hated her when she was on rotations. One of the reasons she never wants to go back to the PSE ward, even though she found the work really interesting."

Esme nodded seriously.

"Yep, and it got really nasty recently, with Ros. It all came to a head and there's an enquiry going on now. Green's been suspended while it gets investigated. They'd better not keep her on, she was awful."

"Like a bully you mean?"

"Yes. Really prejudiced stuff. Noxing, too."

"Noxing?" Hope repeated blankly. "What's that?"

"It's a form of bullying," Esme explained. "People do it to manipulate someone else into thinking they are crazy, or that they've got things wrong - or unsure about their own version of events. I'm not explaining it very well," she added, as Hope continued to look confused. "But for instance, Green would change Ros's shifts last minute, and then say that she must have misread the rota, or say that she'd asked her to do things when she hadn't, or have conversations with her then point blank deny that they'd spoken at all. She diagnosed a patient wrong then tried to put the blame on her too. Luckily that's when Rosina realised, and began to take it further, but for a while she thought she was going insane. That's what noxing does. It's a serious offence. Punishable by wizard law, even."

An unpleasant sensation was crawling through Hope's ribcage. Elements of what Esme had just said were striking a horribly familiar chord. She recalled her argument with Cadmus from that very morning.

"But you said you'd be back at school after a week."

"No I didn't! I said I'd go home for the whole two weeks."

"You definitely said one week. When we were out in the courtyard yesterday."

"We didn't even talk about me going home when we were in the courtyard!"

"Are you serious? We had a whole conversation about it."

But it was totally different, wasn't it? It must be. Rosina's case was one of serious workplace bullying. The situation wasn't even comparable.

"I've never heard of noxing," she mumbled.

"I hadn't either," Michael assured her. "Sounds like one of Dad's weird plants, doesn't it?"

She tried to return his friendly smile. Couldn't quite manage it.

"I think it's based on an old story," Esme said. "About a man who keeps using nox on the lights in his house and then doing lumos straight after. All non-verbal and he pretends to his wife that it's not happening, that it's all in her head, and she thinks that she's going mad. I'm not sure how the story ends, or even if it's true, but you get what I mean. The first time Ros went to senior management about it, Green denied everything and acted as though Ros was the problem. But Ros ended up keeping a secret record of everything she did and that's how they're on to the enquiry now. I doubt it will be enough to get Green arrested - noxing is a really hard thing to prove - but I think she will lose her job at least."

Hope was staring down at her hands, feeling very sick. She could not bring herself to ask more questions, and let the conversation move on to more casual topics. Michael was watching her intently, and later on, when Esme had gone to the bathroom, he leant towards her and spoke.

"Hey," he murmured. "I want to check... if you're OK?"

"Me? Yeah! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Um. I saw you this morning, with Cadmus, arguing. And you looked really upset. I'm not judging him or anything," he added quickly, "but I've worked with him in potions before - I know he's not the easiest person to get along with. And you're my friend so… I thought I'd ask. That's all."

This was the closest she had coming to cracking, to pouring everything out, especially after what Esme had just told her. In spite of Michael's obvious embarrassment, he was looking at her with warmth and understanding and his eyes were kind. But Michael had plenty going on in his own life. He was friendly and funny and got along with everyone and had a lovely, fun relationship with his lovely, fun, intelligent girlfriend. Hope knew she was the opposite in every way. And she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth.

"Thanks Michael. Really, I appreciate it. There's no need to worry, though. Cadmus is... great."

Never had the word sounded less sincere.

O

"This is a surprise," Tonks said, when she appeared at the front door a few hours later. "Although you do have a habit of turning up unexpectedly at Easter!"

She was smiling and Hope knew it was a joke.

Be nice for once.

But the conversation with Esme on the train had shaken her.

"I'm so sorry," she bit back. "I didn't know I needed permission."

Her mother gave a heavy sigh. "I didn't mean it like that, and you know it. It's lovely to see you."

Hope returned the embrace, if a little stiffly.

"Molly and Arthur are coming round for dinner later," she added, as Remus came forward to greet his daughter as well. "You're welcome to join us, but if you'd prefer not to you can have something to eat earlier."

As tempted as she was to go up to her room and barricade herself in there for the rest of the night, Hope couldn't bring herself to do it. She adored Molly and Arthur, and she couldn't help but remember Gran's words now every time she saw them. She wouldn't even be here if it weren't for Molly Weasley.

"I'd like to join, please," she said in a small voice.

Molly and Arthur arrived shortly after, Molly laden down with a large box and Arthur carrying a lumpy paper bag.

"Dare I ask?" Remus asked, eyeing the box in Molly's arms apprehensively.

"Photos!" Molly beamed. "We've finally got round to clearing out the rooms and I swear we have enough photographs to wallpaper the entire Hogwarts Castle."

"Clearing out?" Remus laughed. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Enough is enough," Molly declared. "My children are welcome to come and stay whenever they want, as are the grandchildren, but it's high time we had neutral decoration throughout the rooms, not one that only appeals to quidditch fans and dragon obsessives!"

"And what are these photos?" Tonks asked, taking the box from her.

"I'll be honest - I haven't got a clue," Molly sighed. "There are more than even I imagined. Mostly from the mid nineties when Arthur had his camera obsession, so I think you'll find some in there to interest you! You can give any you don't want back to me and we'll get rid of them."

"This smells delicious, Tonks," Arthur enthused, breathing in the fumes from the kitchen. "Do you need anything blending? I have an immersion blender now." He pulled out an oddly shaped shiny device from the paper bag he was clutching.

"Very kind of you Arthur," Tonks said, catching Hope's eye. They both turned away to avoid giggling out loud. "But I don't think roast chicken benefits from blending!"

Hope really did enjoy dinner, talking and laughing away with Arthur about his new kitchen blender, although she thought she knew what was on her mother's mind when she met her gaze occasionally: why are you so pleasant with others and so horrible with us?

I don't want to be, Hope thought miserably. I truly don't. I wish I hadn't got into this endless cycle of being a moody cow with you the whole time.

"So how is quidditch going this year?" Molly asked, turning to Hope. "We popped in to drop a couple of things off for Ginny on the way here and had a quick chat with Albus. He said Ravenclaw are in the running to win the cup yet again!"

So Albus hadn't told his parents or grandparents that she had lost her spot on the team. Ravenclaw were still in the running, it was true, but that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Slytherin's unexpected but welcome win over Hufflepuff the week before. She felt a rush of gratitude to her young friends as she mumbled a vague reply to satisfy everyone. As ever, the unspoken rule which had held so strong between them over the years was a saving grace.

Is it a really a saving grace?

Hope pondered this. Was it possible that the mantra of don't tell our parents had finally come round to bite her? An overly anxious parent may be what she needed right now. Someone to sternly force her to tell the truth, to ask her what was wrong, why she wasn't playing quidditch, what was happening.

It was too well hidden. Hidden behind her own confident mask and the loyalty of her peers, and she was not going to bring up the subject of her own accord.

"Scorpius was there as well," Molly went on. "He is such a sweet boy, isn't he? I'm so glad he and Albus are friends."

Hope grinned to herself at this, but didn't say anything. They hadn't given her away. She was certainly not going to give them away.

O

Later on, when Molly and Arthur had left, Hope sat on the carpet in front of the fire with her parents, leafing through photo after photo. Many of them were of perfectly ordinary items - forks, spoons, muggle batteries, plugs, close ups of an old motorbike - and were placed back in the box for disposal.

The photos of people were much more interesting.

"Who's that?" Hope enquired, pointing to a moving group photo. She recognised most of them, but in the background was a stunted, scruffy man who she had never seen in her life. He puffed on a pipe and a cloud of green smoke billowed out of his mouth. The other members of the picture wrinkled their noses in obvious disgust.

"Mundungus Fletcher," Remus laughed, leaning over to look. "Crook if ever there was one. He went off to Cuba years ago now and never came back. Doing something highly illicit nowadays I'm sure. If he hasn't been murdered or imprisoned for his crimes."

"Oh Dedalus!" Tonks's lip trembled slightly as she found a photo of a man in purple robes and a bright hat. Hope remembered Dedalus, an effervescent man who always had a fun trick up his sleeve. He had died in a freak accident shortly before she had started school and her parents had been devastated.

"Merlin, Hestia looks young here," Remus said, looking at another photo.

"That was before she delivered our children, remember," Tonks reminded him drily. "Not to mention most of the Weasley offspring aswell."

"Here's one of both of you!" Hope exclaimed, pulling out a larger, square print. Her mother, her hair a cascade of silver and gold glitter, laughed back at her, one arm round her now husband and supported on the other side by a man with black hair and a gaunt but handsome face. Sirius, of course, but a different looking Sirius to the photo of the teenager she had seen at Harry's house. He had lost his youthful, wiry physique and smooth, unblemished skin. His frame was skeletal, his eyes sunken, his hair straggly instead of shiny and floppy, the ineffaceable remnants of his years spent in Azkaban.

Tonks took the picture, mouth wobbling again.

"I remember that being taken," Remus murmured. "The New Year's Eve we had at Grimmauld Place."

"I don't remember anyone having a camera that night!"

His lips twisted in amusement.

"That, my dear, is not surprising. There is a reason Sirius and I are holding you so tightly. You'd already fallen flat on your face three times and it wasn't even midnight. Some things never change, I suppose."

Hope grinned at her mother, who rolled her eyes, her mouth still turned down in the corners.

"That's a special photo, though," she said, brushing a spec of dust off the corner. "I'll be keeping that one safe."

Hope felt sombre. She had once heard her mother say that her father and Sirius had been her best friends, during the early days of the second Order. And Sirius had died not after that photo had been taken. Murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange. One of the reasons that no one liked to speak of her.

No longer laughing, she pulled out another stack of photos that had clearly been taken during the holidays as well, although this time at The Burrow. George, with both his ears, laughed with his twin Fred, as they sat at the laden table wearing matching cracker hats. Harry and Ron, lanky teenagers with scruffy hair, stood together in the snow covered garden, smiling awkwardly. Harry sat by the fire, talking to her father. Dad looked awful, Hope thought in horror, almost as old as he did now, although his hair was still partially brown rather than grey. But it wasn't his hair in the photo that was making her stare. It was his excruciatingly thin frame, the hollows in his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the tenseness to his shoulders, an expression that spoke only of pain and misery.

Neither of her parents had noticed and Hope hastily moved on. It did not look like a moment he would want to remember. Molly and Arthur stood arm in arm, an impressive hat patterned with stars perched on Molly's head and a lumpy woollen scarf slung round Arthur's shoulders. Then Bill and Fleur, Bill's face smooth and unscarred as he gazed adoringly down at his wife. Or likely just fiancée, at the time. There was one of Percy, puffed up in apparent outrage, hair askew and his glasses splattered with white mush as Ginny and her twin brothers howled with laughter in the background. Hope sniggered to herself. In the next photo, Ginny grinned at the camera again, this time from Molly and Arthur's patched old sofa, seated next to a thin woman with a pale face and short, mouse brown hair.

"Ginny's hardly changed!" Hope exclaimed. "Who's that next-"

The rest of the question died in her throat. She knew exactly who the other woman in the photo was, but it had taken her several long seconds to recognise her.

"Yes, that's me," Tonks said softly, looking over her shoulder.

Hope stared at it, then up at her.

"Is that your natural hair colour? I've never seen it like that, except when you were in hospital with that horrible curse. I think I like the pink better."

"Yes, it's my natural hair. It... wasn't a choice. I lost my morphing powers for a time."

"You lost your powers? I didn't know that could happen."

"It can do," her mother said, sounding awkward. "When - when you're very unhappy."

"Was that-" Hope swallowed. "Was that because of Sirius dying?"

"Yes. Partly, anyway."

"What was the other part?" The question fell from her lips before she could stop it but a tense, closed look appeared on both her parents' faces instantly and Hope wished she hadn't asked. Tonks gave her a small, sad smile and shook her head.

"I'd rather not talk about it, Hope, if that's OK?"

She nodded, immediately feeling guilty, her barriers flying back up. For a short time, in the warm atmosphere of her family home, after the relaxed dinner, sharing an unusually close moment with her parents, she could have imagined opening up to them, confessing how bad things were at school, how she couldn't seem to find a way out, how maybe she wasn't as fine as she had been pretending.

Those feelings were fast evaporating.

Her parents' generation had suffered so much loss. True loss. Not merely had their friends go off travelling and leave them for a year or two. Her mother had lost her cousin and George had lost his twin, and her father had lost nearly everyone he loved. Hope knew that even now, more than twenty years on, those terrible tragedies still haunted them. They had endured war and horror and proper grief, not a bit of loneliness at school and a boyfriend who wasn't always very nice. Her father looked frighteningly unwell in the photos she had just seen, and her mother had been so miserable at the time she had not been able to morph.

Hope had no problems morphing. She couldn't be that unhappy.

"I think I'll go to bed," she said, after flicking through the photos a little more in silence. "Thanks for dinner."

She did not look round after kissing them goodnight but as she left the room she had a feeling they were exchanging one of their looks, those looks that were full of weary, helpless concern.

oOo

April

Hope hadn't meant for the argument to happen. Of all the things to cause a row, spilt hot chocolate was surely the most stupid of them all, and now she was upstairs, her mother no doubt thinking she was sulking when in actual fact she was contemplating all the ways in which she could have reacted differently. She could have agreed to make the drink in a different mug when Mum had asked her to, rather than insisting on using the decade old mischief-not-quite-managed mug which was prone to coughing and sneezing fits. When, predictably enough, the hot chocolate had exploded everywhere, she could have apologised and cleaned it up, instead of getting angry herself. And she could have accepted her mother's comment of 'Hope, maybe next time…" with good grace, as opposed to biting her head off in return.

She hadn't done any of those things. If Dad had been home he may have been able to keep the peace with a well timed comment or light hearted remark, but he was working on a big project with deadlines which were keeping him at work until nightfall, and so the row had escalated and here she was, fifteen minutes later, lying on top of her bed, having stormed upstairs and slammed her bedroom door.

o

Remus came home not long after. Tonks was sitting at the kitchen table, still seething, failing to concentrate on the stack of reports in front of her. He took one look at her face and let out a small groan.

"What's happened now?"

"I don't know what to do anymore, it's ridiculous," Tonks expostulated, once she had summarised the row. "All I asked was that she be a bit more careful in future. She didn't need to blow her top."

"We've been through this a million times. She is a teenager and we are adults and for the moment it is going to take a bit of patience."

Tonks shuffled through some more papers, her expression unchanged.

Remus sighed. "I'll finish these reports then why don't we go for a drink or something? You can cool off and Hope might benefit from a few hours with the house to herself."

"I can't. I need to be up early. I'm leading a raid on Flint's house first thing in the morning."

Remus, in the process of picking up a pile of heavy papers from inside his bag, froze, staring at her as though he could not believe his ears.

"Excuse me?"

"We've been tipped off that he's dealing class A hallucinogens and rumour is he has a stock of Novakine to trade on the black market. Warrant has gone through and the raid's approved for the morning."

"And you are in charge of it?"

"Yes. Harry has to be elsewhere."

Remus straightened up slowly with the papers in his arms.

"You consider that appropriate, do you?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

A slight exhale of disbelief.

"The words Conflict and Interest come to mind."

"Most Aurors on the squad have arrested someone they have a connection with," Tonks retorted. "It's not a conflict of interest just because my child is in a relationship with his child. A teenage relationship at that."

"One that you disapprove of heartily."

"I don't disapprove."

"Yes you do, and forgive me for saying so but you are atrocious at pretending otherwise."

"Whatever. That has nothing to do with it."

"Rubbish."

There was a crash as Remus slammed his papers down on the table.

She flared up at him, her temper still raw from the earlier altercation with her daughter.

"This is Flint, Remus. Marcus bloody Flint. He should have been locked up in Azkaban with a life sentence years ago, yet somehow all they've ever been able to pin on him is minor theft? He must have been involved in The Surge - I still don't know how there wasn't a shred of evidence against him. His whole family were Voldemort supporters and none of them did the time for it. Then there was the awful business with that poor muggle child. Accident my arse-"

"Yes, I'm aware of all that." Remus's voice went up several decibels as well. "The man is bad news and the sooner a charge can be laid on him the better. But it is not appropriate for you to be involved in his arrest."

"Too bad. They need me."

"Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me that Harry insisted on giving you this assignment? He is more than aware of your feelings towards the Flints and there must be a dozen other Aurors qualified to lead this raid. It wouldn't even be a job for your department if Flint wasn't an MoMS subject of concern, would it?"

She did not reply.

"Dora, what are you hoping to gain from this?"

"I want him back behind bars."

"That's all, is it?"

"Yes."

"And the fact that you can't bear Hope going out with Cadmus is irrelevant? Maybe you're hoping that if you land his father in prison they'll break up?"

"No!"

She wouldn't meet his eye, however, and he goggled at her.

"You are, aren't you?"

"I'm not!"

"Then explain to me why you are insisting on this? You hate raids. Always have. You get out of them whenever you can. As for Marcus Flint, he may be scum but he never caused you lost sleep before Cadmus came on the scene."

She floundered at this. Remus and his bloody logic.

"What if Cadmus is just like him?" She burst out at last, after several failed attempts to articulate a suitable response.

"And... here we go." Remus turned and gazed upwards in frustration, his hands in his thick hair.

"Remus, I'm serious. We know nothing about him, we've never met him, Hope still won't tell us anything-"

"That's tough. You're going to have to trust her and let her make her own decisions. Teenager or not, she is legally an adult."

Tonks ploughed on as though he had not interrupted.

"-and for all we know he's his father all over again. Do you want Hope involved with someone like that? Don't you care?"

"Of course I care!"

"Oh really? Because right now you're acting like you don't give a damn."

His head snapped back round, eyes darkening, and she quailed, knowing she had gone too far.

"What did you just say?"

"I didn't mean-"

She dropped her eyes again.

"Never accuse me of not caring about the people I love." His voice was low and ragged now, yet far more unpleasant than his raised tones. "Least of all our children."

"I know, I know." She held up a hand, still avoiding his gaze, guilt extinguishing her anger as well. "I know. I shouldn't have said that."

He gave a curt nod, jaw clenched, and there were several long seconds of silence. Then, with a visible effort, he took a deep breath and picked up his stack of papers again.

"This is getting us nowhere. I'm going to file these notes and you can cool off, then we'll chat again. But for the love of Merlin will you tell Harry you can't do it while he's got time to get someone else in? Please."

He went through to the office, shutting the door with more force than he had intended.

o

Hope listened miserably to the muffled but undeniably raised voices downstairs. That had to be because of her, because of the argument earlier, because she was so difficult. She hardly ever heard her parents fight. She remembered how worried Roxane had been about her own parents splitting up, so worried that it would have been the form her boggart took.

Their worst arguments are always when I've done something bad.

The voices subsided. Hope heard the office door slam, turned onto her side and stared sadly into the gloom. She was still awake hours later when her parents eventually came up to bed.

o

"I'm sorry."

Remus, from his position on their bed, simply held out an arm in response. Tonks climbed up next to him and lay down too, bright head in the crook of his shoulder.

"I'm sorry too," he murmured.

"I know you care as much as I do. I wish I had your control in how I show it."

"Ah where would the fun be in that?"

A silence. Then, her voice muffled against his shoulder:

"I told Harry I couldn't do the raid."

"What did he say?"

"That Cragg was already lined up to take my place but he hadn't expected me to back out until the morning."

Remus snorted slightly.

"He knows you too well."

"Not as well as you do."

"True." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "No one does."

"I do still worry though. I can't imagine Flint is a model father or husband. Which makes me doubt Cadmus's suitability as a decent boyfriend."

"I know. And I do understand. But it's Hope's choice, not ours, and we're going to have to trust her judgement."

Tonks stared up at the ceiling for quite a while after Remus had dozed off.

Trusting others' judgement was a good thing, wasn't it? She wouldn't be here today if her mother had chosen a partner who met with her parents' approval. And her own start with Remus was proof that even the best of relationships could be controversial, have difficult moments, outwardly seem like a bad idea...

It had been worth it in the end. More than worth it.

Why did this situation feel different? Was it just because she didn't have any control over it? Why did she have a terrible, nagging feeling that something was dreadfully wrong?

Lost in musings, weariness won the battle eventually, and Tonks drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

OOO