Remus leafed through the Muggle newspaper that Friday morning in search of new restaurants in London. It had become a weekly ritual as he slowly dug his way out of the mess that was his marriage. Every Sunday night, without fail, he took Tonks out to dinner at a different restaurant. He arranged for any one of their friends to babysit their children; more often than not, a Weasley or two took Teddy and Hope for the night. Remus avoided asking for Andromeda's help; he'd seen her once in the last two months, and it was an icy, clipped conversation. He knew it would be another uphill battle to win Andromeda's favor - or indifference - but he didn't quite care either way, as his marriage was his top priority.
The dates had become easier with time. They were no longer as painful or awkward as their first few dates. Tonks still refused to hold his hand or engage in any physical affection (he always offered), but Remus held out hope that sooner or later, she would be comfortable touching him again. His only miserable consolation was having had plenty of practice in being touch-starved for the majority of his adulthood.
Living together had become easier, too. They were in separate bedrooms, with no end to that separation yet in sight, but Remus had taken to taking a cup of tea every night and bringing it up for her in her room, once the children were tucked in for the night. Remus often stayed in her room for tea. Sometimes, it was for a few minutes before she got ready for bed. Other times, she was willing to have a conversation with him about their relationship and her own role in their marriage's problems. Those discussions were never predictable. They sometimes ended tensely, with neither Remus nor Tonks fully satisfied with everything said or unsaid, but Remus thought that as long as she was willing to talk to him, he would take the opportunity to listen and respond.
Sundays had become his favorite day of the week. Though he adored any moment he spent with his children, taking Tonks out to dinner felt special. He had never been able to give her real dates before. They never rowed when they were out to dinner together. They frequently discussed the everyday or the mundane: Remus wanted one night a week when they could be together, just the two of them, focused on one another. Tonks seemed to be invested in the weekly dates too, but Remus couldn't help but notice that she kept her distance.
It wasn't merely that she refused to hold his hand or engage in any physical affection with him. She was guarded. Even in their tea-time discussions in her room, Remus felt that she was holding something back. There were times when she began to say something but would change her mind or stop speaking altogether. Other times, she skirted around an issue, claiming it would be best to discuss it another time. They were making progress, Remus knew, but she was holding some part of herself back. So long as she continued to spend time with him and talk to him, however, Remus swallowed his unease and focused all his efforts on his marriage and family.
Not finding a restaurant that piqued his interest in the Muggle newspaper, he set it down and strode to the window in his office, which overlooked the path to Hogsmeade. It hadn't crossed his mind yet to try a magical establishment for their weekly dates. With his lycanthropy and relative notoriety in the wizarding world, he had little interest in drawing attention to himself. He scratched his chin, wondering if Tonks would find a date in Hogsmeade charming or disappointing, when he heard a knock on his door.
"Come in," he called hoarsely. The door swung open and Minerva came in with a roll of parchment under her arm. "Another change to my employment contract?"
"No," she replied briskly. "A proposition for our lycanthropic students. The Board of Governors are interested in rebuilding the site of the Shrieking Shack to make it more suitable for lycanthropic students to make use of at the full moon."
"They want to remodel the Shrieking Shack?" Remus asked blankly. "Why?" Minerva handed him the roll of parchment and sat down in his office chair.
"Students aren't meant to be coming and going from Hogwarts on a regular basis. This ensures all students are treated equally."
"It's not a bad idea, but we can't have one facility for all of them." Remus scanned through the Board's proposal. While the idea of ensuring all werewolf students would have the opportunity to stay at Hogwarts like any other student was good, the proposed replacement of the Shrieking Shack looked like a miniature form of Azkaban. He cleared his throat and added, "And we certainly shouldn't have one that looks like this."
"I've already made my opinions known on the architecture," Minerva replied. "If we are treating the students equally, their accommodations at the full moon should be comparable to their dormitories."
"Which means they ought to be separated by sex," Remus clarified. "Though the Wolfsbane Potion allows all of us to keep our minds at the full moon, our lycanthropic students are still young people. Miss Annie Schmidt is capable of becoming pregnant and if this happens at the full moon, not only will she be mated with whichever lad is the father, but their offspring will be highly intelligent wolves who are incapable of becoming human. It is the only way for female werewolves to successfully reproduce."
Minerva took the roll of parchment back from Remus. Her brow furrowed as she read through it; her frown became deeper, too.
"What do you recommend we do?"
"You want to know what I think?"
"Is there another lycanthrope in this office?" she asked wryly. Remus chuckled drily and leaned against a bookshelf, crossing his arms as he thought.
"It's better for the werewolf students to stay here," he said slowly. "This way they're really like any other student. But putting them together, unless they're siblings…like the Wakefield boys, or the Schmidts, once Hugh is old enough to join his sister Annie…even with Wolfsbane Potion, they'll want to establish an order among themselves. It will be lonely…but they're best kept apart from each other, unless they're siblings and have an existing family pack bond."
Minerva had produced a quill and pot of ink from her robes. She furiously scribbled all of Remus's recommendations, pausing to strike out the Board's proposals.
"A series of individual dormitories might be best," he continued, tilting his head from side to side as he spoke. "Enchantments on each room to ensure they're kept apart from one another and secure from the other students…maybe including the option of shared rooms for siblings, should they desire it?"
"Very well," Minerva agreed. She tapped her wand on the parchment and all her written edits became part of the original print. "The Board will see the changes shortly. I refused to entertain their ideas until I saw you."
"You did?" Remus asked, flabbergasted. "Why?"
"It seemed to me that if we are making changes to accommodate lycanthropic students, I ought to ask our resident expert on lycanthropy." She raised a brow at him and smiled thinly. "Unless you thought it would be best to go with their ideas?"
Remus scoffed and shook his head vigorously.
"Thank you for your assistance, Remus." Minerva eyed the photograph of Teddy and Hope on Remus's desk, eyeing them curiously. "I couldn't help but notice that you stopped staying at the castle a few months ago."
"It's better if I'm home…for my family."
"Should I expect you to stay home next term?"
Remus nodded and replied, "I'll be wherever my family is."
"Good man," Minerva said approvingly. "I'll see you for the End of Term Feast tonight." She tucked the roll of parchment into her robe pocket, nodded at him, and disappeared through the doorway.
Remus returned to his office chair to think of wizarding establishments that he could take Tonks to. This week would be even sweeter, with the prospect of telling her about his contribution to the welfare of lycanthropic students. He smiled to himself and got to work.
…
"Where are we?" Tonks asked, eyeing the narrow cobblestone street before them. They overheard some passers-by and she gazed up at him curiously. "Scotland?"
"Glasgow," Remus confirmed. "I read about an up and coming place here and thought we could try it. It's supposed to be quite good."
"You haven't been to this one either?"
"I'd been to very few places before we started going on these dates," Remus confessed, leading the way to the restaurant. "I never had the gold to eat anywhere other than the local chippy, if I was lucky."
There was a mixture of mild pity and intrigue on Tonks's face. The first dates they had, he'd taken her to the few establishments he'd been fortunate enough to know, but he'd relied on newspapers and recommendations for nearly all their dates since, including that Sunday's highly rated, award-winning Muggle restaurant.
"Amaryllis," Tonks read, peering up at the door. "What is a Michelin?"
"Some Muggle rating for restaurants," Remus replied, shrugging. He opened the door for her and led them inside to be seated. They were given a table and menus; the prices were eye-watering, making Remus slightly regret having chosen that particular establishment that evening.
"Remus," Tonks whispered, over her menu. "This is really expensive. Are you sure about this?"
"I'm sure," he replied. Thinking quickly, he added, "The term just ended and you have two new fully qualified Aurors. We have loads to celebrate."
Tonks seemed satisfied with his answer, and moments later, they ordered what Remus hoped would be well worth the money.
"I have to admit something to you," Remus said, once their exceedingly posh amouse-bouche had arrived. "We were actually going to try a place in Diagon Alley."
"I wondered why we've never been to a wizarding place before." Tonks took a bite from her amouse-bouche, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing her make satisfied mmm sounds from eating the frilly food. "I know there aren't as many, and I'm not complaining," she continued, "I just thought that we were going to places you'd been, but it's all been Muggle joints, most of which you've never eaten at before?"
"Ah, well." Remus dabbed at his mouth with a pressed cloth napkin. "I did try to get us a table at the Plump Porlock in London—"
"Isn't that where all the old pureblood families go?"
"They've become a bit more accepting since the war," Remus replied, clearing his throat lightly. He took a sip of his wine and elaborated, "But I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I wasn't welcome to dine there."
Tonks gripped her fork tightly. Her knuckles were white against the satiny silver, and Remus could see the roots of her hair struggling to stay chestnut brown.
"Is it because—"
"Yes," Remus answered evenly. "I don't want you to be upset over it – it's not fair, I know – but there's no need to dwell on it."
Tonks set her utensils down. "Do you really mean that?"
"I think…if things were different…I would've been more bothered." Remus took another sip of his wine, letting the smooth, velvety liquid coat his lips and tongue. "I have bigger problems than whether or not a restaurant will seat me. I know what you'll say…it doesn't matter, I ought to have fought it, told them I was a Hogwarts professor and have an Order of Merlin, First Class…but I just don't care."
The next course was brought out to them, a salad adorned with edible flowers. When the waiter left, Tonks put a petal in her mouth, grimaced, and set it aside.
"I think you do care," she countered quietly, to his surprise. "It makes sense why we're here."
"Why—"
"You couldn't get us a table at a pureblood place, so you wanted to feel better about yourself by spending all this money on fancy Muggle food." Tonks eyed him as he chewed on an especially crunchy leaf. "I never wanted anything this…excessive."
The juicy tomato Remus had swallowed suddenly left a bitter taste on his tongue. He felt a sense of cold dread wash over him, a feeling he'd long associated with shame, guilt, and regret.
"That…may be true," he conceded, trying very hard to keep his voice even and his facial expression neutral. "I did want to prove I can give you what you deserve, even if you don't want it. If I were another man…this is how I would try to impress you."
"You don't really know me very well, if this is how you're trying to impress me." Tonks played with the flower on her plate, flicking it around with the tines of her fork. "This is extravagant and pretentious. It's not you or me at all."
Remus parted his lips to speak and defend his decision, but Tonks put her hand up to stop him.
"I'm not done yet and I need to get this out." Tonks's dark eyes were glittering with something bordering on anger, but there was a blazing look to them too – something like passion. "This," she gestured to the restaurant around them and the food on their plates, "this doesn't impress me. You know what does impress me?"
Remus felt his heart race. He kept his hands in his lap, squeezing his fingers tightly to distract himself from the overwhelming anxiety that threatened to undo him.
"I know you do care whether those pricks at the Pimpled Puffskein—"
"Plump Porlock," Remus quietly corrected, lowering his head and berating himself for choosing that, of all moments, to correct her.
"Whatever," Tonks said dismissively. "I know you do care, and taking me here doesn't impress me. What does impress me is that you didn't spiral."
Remus snapped his neck up to meet her eyes. The waiter came by to take their plates and set down new utensils for the next course.
"You didn't give up, either," she added, once they were out of earshot of the waitstaff. "I dunno if this makes sense…but before, a setback like this would've sent you spiraling or pushing me away or just giving up. You did something different."
Remus's heart went from racing to pounding hard in his chest. He felt as though they were on the edge of something – perhaps this was the turning point he'd been waiting for, he wondered, desperately hoping it would be a turn for the better.
"You're right that I do care whether or not the Pesky Pixie—"
"Plu—"
"Remus, I don't care," Tonks said impatiently. "It's never going to matter. Whatever that bloody place is called, I do care that they didn't want to book you a table. I'm saying you did something different this time and…I dunno. I'm just surprised."
Two servers came by and presented them with the first half of their dinner, a turbot with brown butter and capers. Remus dug in quickly; he'd come to associate fish now with his new venture with Tonks, and thus far he had not been disappointed with the addition to his culinary repertoire.
"I've been surprised by all of this, I suppose," Tonks murmured, running her fork in the brown butter sauce. "I've been going out to dinner with you every week and it's been nice, but I haven't been very honest with you, and I'm sorry about that."
Remus almost choked on his fish. He took a large swig of wine, too much now, making it bitter—
"I've mostly been doing this for the kids. I know that's terrible and it's what I yelled at you for, because I wanted you, my husband, back. I've been so afraid, Remus. It's easier to do this, thinking of us getting friendly with each other again, so our kids can have parents who co-exist. It's not fair to you, I know, and I'm sorry."
She took several gulps of her wine, which had been virtually untouched all night. Remus wasn't sure if it was the wine, but the room started spinning a little. He put his hands on the edges of his seat, gripping them to keep steady.
"It's not that I don't want to make this work," Tonks continued, still playing with the sauce on her plate. "I do. I really do. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know it hasn't been fair for me to…lead you on, I s'pose...but I needed to tell you what's on my mind. I've done a shit job of that in the last year and I'm trying not to do it again."
Remus felt his lungs expanding and contracting shallowly. He had been hopeful – so hopeful – that his marriage was improving. All his attempts at patching their relationship appeared to have gone to waste.
"Hey."
She reached out to him and put a hand on his arm. He squawked loudly, earning glares from other diners at the restaurant.
"Remus. I'm not done yet," she continued. "Please look at me." He forced his eyes to meet her, the feeling of her warm hand on his arm grounding him momentarily. "I know you must be worried or hurt, and I really am sorry. I'm trying to tell you – poorly, I think – that this is what I feel. I want to keep having dinner with you. This is – hell, this is the best part of my week, getting to go out with you, even if we're at an obnoxiously overpriced restaurant."
Remus's heart skipped a beat. He gazed down at the spot where her hand rested on his arm. She squeezed it lightly and pulled her hand back.
"I keep telling you not to get your hopes up, because I don't know if I'll ever be ready to be more than this again," she said softly. "I might be. I want to be…I just can't guarantee that it'll ever happen. I know this must be a disappointment…though I really have enjoyed these dates. I understand if you don't want to keep going or even calling them dates—"
"I want to," Remus interrupted instantly. "Even if the chance of us being back together is tiny. As long as it's not…no chance…I'll wait."
"I feel very bad, doing this to you," she mumbled, finally taking a few small bites of her turbot. "Can – can you tell me if it was better for me to have told you all of that?"
"Yes. I should've asked you before now—"
"I've appreciated you coming to see me and bringing me tea most nights. I know it's not the same as it used to be, but I still like spending time with you."
"Good," Remus croaked. His mind was racing with possibilities, his thoughts swirling around in a frantic search for ways he could convince Tonks to take the plunge and re-take their relationship beyond their friendly dates.
"I didn't mean for all that to come out," Tonks murmured. "I didn't really know that's what I felt, you know? And I'm proud of you for not spiraling or giving up when the Porky Plimpy refused you…this Muggle place might be up its own arse with this food, but I guess what I'm trying to say is I'd rather this than you giving up."
Remus nodded at her, unsure of what else to say. All his thoughts now circled on how he could win her back.
"Is it all right if we talk about something else?" Tonks said suddenly. "I've hardly touched this fish and I'm starving. Those tiny amouse-bouche things were not amusing."
"That's – that's not really what it means," Remus said, chuckling weakly. "It's to prepare your appetite."
"I'm not posh enough for this." Tonks shrugged and took larger bites of her turbot. Remus noticed it start to rain outside, and forgetting all other topics of conversation, remarked on the weather.
It wasn't the most riveting discussion, but Tonks offered him a small smile, and they continued their dinner, talking about nothing in particular at all.
…
R-
I hate doing this, but we've got new trainees coming in a day earlier than expected. I'm swamped. Can you pick up the kids from mum's for me?
T.
Remus stared at the scrap bit of parchment delivered by a Ministry owl and sighed deeply. He couldn't very well say no to her, and he wrote a quick note in return in the affirmative.
It was the beginning of the summer holidays and he was still at Hogwarts, working with the Board of Governors to build secure dormitories for lycanthropic students. The Shrieking Shack had been destroyed and in its place, a cozy home with several safe, comfortable rooms would be built. There would be one common space downstairs with medicinal supplies for immediate healing after the moon, while the upstairs rooms would be for student use.
Given the busy start to the summer holidays, Teddy and Hope were still being cared for by Andromeda on weekdays. Tonks insisted on taking the kids there and back herself. Remus felt it was just as well – he didn't fancy seeing his irate mother-in-law and he suspected she didn't want to see him either.
Nevertheless, given the circumstances, Remus felt he had no choice but to agree to picking up his children. It was with a sense of apprehension that he Disapparated from Hogsmeade and appeared in front of Andromeda's home late that sweltering July afternoon.
He approached the yellow front door, knocked politely, and waited with bated breath as the door slowly creaked open.
"A-Andromeda?"
"Remus," Andromeda replied sharply. "You may come in."
Remus stepped inside. His heart sank when he realized it was silent; it meant his two children were asleep, and waking them would be unpleasant.
"Sit," Andromeda ordered, pointing toward the parlor.
"I'm not here to argue," Remus countered. "I appreciate everything you've done for our family, but I'm uninterested in anything but civil conversation."
"Fine." Her nostrils flared and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I only have one request of you: stay away from my daughter."
"Excuse me?"
"Leave Nymphadora be. She's suffered enough because of you."
"Both of us are to blame," Remus said, feeling his temper rise. "We've both agreed to what we're doing."
Andromeda scoffed and shook her head disbelievingly. "My daughter has agreed to a delusion. You have broken her heart too many times."
"I agree I've broken her heart." Remus wanted to move forward but he stayed back, keeping his hands at his sides to avoid any appearance of aggression. "But she has not agreed to a delusion. We are working together for our family and our children."
"Think about your daughter," Andromeda hissed. "Imagine if someone caused her the same amount of pain as you've caused my Nymphadora—"
"That's enough!" Remus roared. "With all due respect, Andromeda, I don't give a damn what you think anymore! This is my marriage and my family. Nymphadora is still my wife and I'd rather throw myself into a well than give up on her! I don't care if you ever think well of me again or refuse to see our children because of me! My family is too bloody important to me to see it torn apart and you can sod right off if you think I'll be leaving them at your request."
Andromeda appeared stunned into speechlessness. Remus, incensed beyond reason, shook off his shoes and moved around her. Then, he saw Tonks, silver-haired and openmouthed, with the emerald of the Floo-flame just disappearing behind her.
A/N:
Time for a fun fact! Amaryllis was a real restaurant in Glasgow. It was Michelin rated but was only around for about 3 years between 2001-2004. Gordon Ramsay was its chef! But the restaurant didn't last very long and closed down.