"Wotcher, Hermione," Tonks greeted half-heartedly, upon seeing Hermione slamming down a stack of parchment on her desk, the frizzy hair framing Hermione's face almost combusting with her passion.

"This is the best we could do. Lee wants to observe lycanthropes' children for the next six months to evaluate them. I managed to write it so that any Ministry representative from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures can do the evaluation. I've assigned myself to your family."

Tonks sank into her chair and began leafing through the Beast Division's newest mandate: mandatory evaluation for children of werewolves to ensure their 'safety and welfare' under the care of their parents. It didn't matter if the children had a human parent in addition to a werewolf one; all lycanthropes' children had to be observed to ensure they were 'safe' from their lycanthropic parent.

"Have they identified the other families?"

Hermione shook her head. "Professor McGonagall allowed us to look at the Book of Admittance, but it only shows —"

"Children who have already displayed signs of magic," Tonks finished. "Teddy should've been down since birth, since he's a Metamorphmagus."

"Teddy and Hope are down in the Book of Admittance," Hermione said, beaming. "Isn't Hope quite young to be displaying magic?"

Tonks snorted and waved her hand. "Some babies show magic the day they're born. Hope's got a little lycanthropy, which would've probably killed her if she wasn't a witch."

"Oh." Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly.

"What's this about?" Tonks asked, pointing to another line in the Beast Division's mandate. "'If, after six months' evaluation, children of lycanthropes demonstrate delays or intellectual deficiencies to an abnormal degree, or greater than those of the general wizarding population, the Beast Division has the right to enforce sterilization on all British lycanthropes, regardless of age or sex.'"

Hermione winced. "I couldn't do much about that...everyone thought werewolves shouldn't be allowed to reproduce. I bought us six months' time to show that werewolves' children are just as capable as any other."

Tonks rubbed her temples with her fingers. She willed herself to calm down, knowing that if she attempted to hex Lee's bollocks off again, she'd be sent home. Kingsley had been able to diffuse the situation the day before, but he was currently traveling with Remus, trying to contact every werewolf on the registry.

"How – how did Remus take the news?"

"Better than I expected," Tonks replied, frowning as she ran through the rest of the document. "He's kept the self-hatred to a minimum."

"Self…hatred?"

Tonks stopped her reading to quirk an eyebrow at Hermione.

"Surely you knew that. Remus has never been able to think highly of himself. Every step forward, it's three steps back." Tonks let her pink fringe drop over her eyes. She pushed it aside and exhaled forcefully. "He's been surprising me lately, so I dunno…a lot's happened in the last year. I don't want to get into it."

Hermione nodded in understanding and ventured, "You might want to look at section 6.2 as well."

Tonks unfurled another roll of parchment and scanned it until she found the aforementioned section.

"Should a lycanthrope parent be found incapable of being suitable, the Ministry has the right to remove their child from their home, regardless of the status of the child's other parent. Lycanthropes, partners, mates, or spouses should designate guardians. Without designation, the Ministry has the right to place a lycanthrope's child in the first available, suitable home."

"This is bullshit," Tonks spat, watching her pink fringe turn acid orange. "They would take my children away from me because they think Remus might not be a good father? Why didn't you fight against this?"

"I did," Hermione replied, her lips thin and her brows knit together. She tapped her wand on her head and her bushy mane worked itself into a tight bun. Without the frizzy hair around her face, Tonks was able to see the dark circles under her eyes. "I stayed up all night to make sure they didn't do anything else. I added the part about designating a guardian. Lee and his cronies were ready to take your kids away and 're-home' them."

"Re-home? They're not animals!"

"I know, Tonks," Hermione said, her voice betraying her irritation. "Lee's been the head of the Beast Division for a long time. He was the acting head for the Being Division, where I work, when Remus worked for him in Werewolf Support Services. I was allowed to contribute to this mandate because my head, Mockridge, doesn't give a damn about his job anymore and has me do everything."

"Have you talked to Kingsley about that? Mockridge shouldn't be the head of the Being Division if you're doing all his work."

"Kingsley's working on getting Mockridge to retire again," Hermione responded. "He was only brought back when Dirk Cresswell was murdered—"

"—yeah, he was a friend of my dad's. They got killed at the same time, we think."

Hermione nodded. "They had Mockridge come back. I've been doing most of the work, which has helped with house elf legislation. He doesn't care about them. But since he's let me do whatever I want, for the most part, I was able to contribute to this Beast Division mandate. It's not fair…but I tried."

"I'll be talking to mum, Harry and Ginny, Bill and Fleur," Tonks murmured, eyeing Hermione carefully. "You and Ron willing to take on our kids if the others can't?"

"Us?" Hermione grew pink in the face. "Really?"

"If my mum, the Potters, or Bill and Fleur can't, yeah. I'd ask Molly and Arthur, but they're happy grandparents now."

"I'll talk to Ron about it, but I don't think it should be a problem," Hermione said, smiling softly.

"Thanks." Tonks continued reading through the mandate. Most of what remained was antiquated, anti-werewolf rhetoric. She reorganized the parchment and slid it across her desk, back toward Hermione. "Anything else I should know?"

"You and Remus'll be the first to know if anything changes...I hate putting this much pressure on your family."

Tonks grimaced, acknowledging the truth in Hermione's statement. In many ways, Remus was under pressure from the wizarding world to be a "model" werewolf. What Remus had been doing for years, presenting himself in the best light, was now being put on display for the world to see. The Lupin family never really had the luxury of being like any other; with Remus, everything was under scrutiny.

"We'll manage," Tonks sighed. She glanced at the clock in her office, realizing it was after five. "You and I should go home. You need sleep and I need to collect the kids."

Tonks wrapped up what she could and left the office, wondering how Remus had spent his day with Kingsley.

…

"My mum, the Potters, Bill and Fleur, Hermione and Ron," Tonks suggested, looking up from the parchment at Remus, whose lined face was more worn and tired than she'd seen it in months. "What do you think of that order?"

"It's fine," Remus agreed. "We may as well add all the Weasleys. George and Angelina next...Percy and Audrey too."

"They're as close to family as you can be without being closely related," Tonks muttered, adding the names to their guardianship document. Following the publication of the Beast Division's mandate that morning, Tonks and Remus decided to name their guardians immediately, ensuring that their children would stay with those they were closest to, preventing the Ministry from "re-homing" them to strangers.

Tonks put her quill down and gazed at her husband, who was sitting on their lumpy sofa, with the cat, Ophelia, on his right. He was visibly worried, with his pronounced lines, pursed lips, and weary, half-drooping eyelids.

"How was it today?"

"As miserable as you'd expect. No one wanted to talk to us. I'm somewhat of a traitor to half the werewolves, because I had the "audacity" to interfere with Fenrir's camp and ideals. The other half don't want to hear anything from the Ministry, but having the Minister of Magic with me helped a little. Most of them had never seen a Minister in person."

"Are there more children of lycanthropes we didn't already know about from the Book of Admittance?"

"A fair few. Werewolves keep to themselves and find mates in others like them, but I'd forgotten that Fenrir ruined so many lives. There are many lycanthropic parents whose families have disowned them, or whose spouses have been killed."

"How do you mean?"

"We found five children living with relatives whose father or mother were now werewolves," Remus replied, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "The children never became werewolves. Fenrir took one of their parents and their relatives thought it best to keep the children away from their parents."

"They didn't even give them a chance?" Tonks asked, aghast, gripping the arms of her overstuffed armchair tightly. "Someone was willing to take children away from their mother or father because of their lycanthropy?"

A curious expression crossed Remus's face. Tonks hastily added, "I know how that sounds, coming from me. It's not – I didn't - you know it wasn't because of that."

"I know," Remus murmured. "Our situation last year was different. Sometimes I did worry about whether you were keeping Teddy and Hope from me because of my lycanthropy...but I didn't wholly blame myself for that."

Tonks felt the guilt churning in her stomach. They had rehashed this conversation many times in their process of reconciliation. Now that she knew other werewolf parents had had their children taken from them because of their lycanthropy, the guilt weighed more heavily on her mind.

"You've reacted differently to this than I expected."

Tonks's eyes widened slightly. "I could say the same for you. I expected you to…" Her voice trailed off. She didn't want to admit to him that she expected he'd run away, panic, or descend into a meltdown that would drag her with him.

Remus shrugged. "If you expected me to run off, your instincts were half-right. I'm never going to be fully at peace with myself." Tonks felt her heart sink a little. "However," he continued, "I'm as bitter and resigned as ever that werewolves made the news again for unpleasant, horrific reasons. I've got more to lose now…I wouldn't have bothered fighting against this mandate before I met you, or before we had children. I have something worth fighting for besides myself."

"Why aren't you fighting against that Lee prick?"

"It's pointless to try. What Kingsley and I needed to do today was get in touch with werewolves across the country and give them as much information as possible to prepare the children they have for evaluation. We can't be 'good enough.' We've got to be better." Remus ran his hands through his hair, which had more silver in it than sandy brown. "I'll be talking to the werewolf students at Hogwarts soon. They need to know they can't be anything less than exemplary students."

"But you're just giving into what they want! It doesn't matter if a kid's a werewolf or the kid of a werewolf! They deserve to be a kid like any other!"

"That's the reaction I expected from you," Remus said, smiling thinly. "I expected you'd have more righteous anger."

Tonks fell silent. She felt guilty over this, too. When they'd first begun their relationship, she recalled feeling furious over the way Remus was treated. In many ways, she still was furious, but she'd grown accustomed to his lot in life – even resigned, in some other ways, that it would always be harder for him to exist, due to his condition.

"It's almost funny," she said quietly. "When we got together…got married…I really thought I knew what I was getting into. All the big things – strange looks from other people, your difficulty in being employed, rude comments about you or us behind my back – I expected all that. I expected hard full moons and the struggle of changing other people's minds."

She sighed into her hands, rubbing her fingers down her face tiredly. "I didn't expect how constant this would be. Or how your lycanthropy affects everything." She looked up to see Remus gaping at her, openmouthed and disbelieving. "I'm not saying it changes whether I want to be with you or have a family with you, but it's readjusted my expectations of what we can do…and how hard it must be to be you."

Remus continued staring at her in apparent incredulity. Tonks snorted softly at his bewildered countenance and stood up from her seat to join him on the sofa, displacing their cat so she could sit with him. Tonks found his hand and intertwined his fingers with hers, unsure if she needed his comfort or he needed hers. She suspected it was a little of both; yesterday, when he took her hand at the Burrow, the feeling of his large, warm, and calloused hand in hers brought back the shiver of something more.

"It's not okay that you have to work so hard to be viewed as equal to others. It's not fair that our children are being forced to undergo these sodding evaluations because you're their dad. It's not right that we won the war over four years ago and while most everyone else has gotten to move on, you don't get to do that. I feel so stupid now for thinking it was going to be easier than this…but it's not. Everything with lycanthropy is a fight…and I'm now realizing what a naïve idiot I've been all these years, thinking we could fix it all in the blink of an eye."

"Nymphadora," Remus whispered, drawing her attention from staring at the uneven floorboards. It had been a long time since he'd called her by her given name. She was shocked at herself, realizing she'd missed hearing him call her by the ridiculous name.

"You're not foolish, idiotic, or naïve," he said, his warm eyes gazing at her with that desperate, lovesick look he usually only reserved for their intimate moments together. "You are brave and brilliant. You are still here with me. It's not been easy, being a werewolf, but you've made it bearable." He brought the back of her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

Tonks felt conflicting sensations coursing through her body. She grew hot with the feeling of his warm lips on her skin, but there was something heavy and cold convulsing in her stomach. It wasn't hunger, she knew, and when Remus pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, she drew her hand back, watching guiltily as his face fell.

"Not yet," Tonks said, in a small voice, returning to her solitary armchair by the fire. "I'm sorry."

"I shouldn't have presumed."

There was hurt in his voice. Tonks didn't understand the clashing feelings in her heart, pulled in one direction to restart their physical relationship, but held back by fear that something would go wrong again.

"I want to do more than what we've been doing," she revealed. "but something is holding me back. I'm sorry, Remus."

"It's all right." Remus coughed into his elbow and cleared his throat. "Let's get back to what we were talking about."

Tonks stood out of her seat and began pacing, the thoughts swirling around in her head, demanding to be spoken.

"I was saying I feel stupid for not realizing how difficult it is to get you the life you deserve…how guilty I feel for not realizing it before, pushing you to demand more, but I'm not sorry I've pushed you, because we wouldn't have what we have," Tonks ranted, astounding herself with how much she had to get off of her chest. "I'm wondering too, how this will affect Teddy and Hope…I'm so worried the Ministry won't be fair, even if Hermione's doing the evaluations for us…and then I feel guilty all over again for not pushing harder to undo unfair werewolf policies that got us here."

"You're putting a lot of pressure on yourself," Remus said softly. "Too much."

"Of all the families in Britain who could help werewolves the most, we're it. You've got the Order of Merlin, you teach at Hogwarts, and I'm Head Auror. I can't help but feel I've failed everyone, being so wrapped up in my own life that I forgot other werewolves would need help too. I've been feeling sorry for myself," Tonks confessed, feeling only marginally better after expressing her thoughts.

"I felt that way, too. I was the only werewolf to have received a full seven years' of a Hogwarts education. I had Dumbledore offer his help, repeatedly, and I only ever thought of myself."

"You lost your parents and then all your friends," Tonks countered. "Dumbledore is all you had left."

"We were struggling last year and you had our then-three-year-old son and a newborn daughter. I didn't fight for our marriage and family as hard as I should have done." Tonks met his golden brown eyes, which were tired, but lit with passion.

"You might not feel like you've been doing enough, but believe me, Tonks, you're doing more than I could ever imagine. In a way, I'm grateful you're seeing the struggle I go through more clearly, but in another way…I hope you don't give up. I've given up many times. It wasn't until you showed up in my life that I didn't want to give up anymore, so we could have something together."

Remus was on his feet now, standing close enough to Tonks that she could see the little speckles of gold in his eyes.

"I know I ought to care what happens with the other werewolves…but I don't," he continued. "I care about fighting for this because of you and our children. I don't care if you give up on the other werewolves or the whole cause, but please don't give up on me. I don't care if it all seems hopeless anymore…please don't give up on us. I will wait as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable with me again."

Tonks couldn't help but stare at Remus, amazed at what he'd said. It took her by surprise – one minute she was confessing her feelings of guilt to him for being so naïve about the never-ending battle surrounding lycanthropes, and the next, he was begging her to keep trying, uncaring over the fate of other werewolves.

"Hope is crying," Remus said, before the cries hit Tonks's ears. "I'll get her before she wakes Teddy. Before I go, will you think about what I said?"

Tonks nodded weakly. He reached out his hand, as if to take her cheek against his palm, but he thought better of it and went to the stairs.

…

"You signed those guardianship papers pretty quickly," Tonks observed, seeing her mother put a quill away. Seeing an opening, she added, "You've been lonely, haven't you?"

Andromeda's brow went high into her forehead. "Pardon?"

"You're lonely, mum. It's okay to admit it."

"I'm managing perfectly well, Nymphadora." Andromeda's face was expressionless. Tonks knew this look very well – the stoic mask that hid all feelings, whether joyful or shameful.

"Could you be honest with me? I know you miss dad."

"I do miss your father," Andromeda said evenly. "He was my best friend."

"I know."

Tonks took a cup from the cupboard and began fixing herself tea. She'd gotten out of work earlier than she expected. The only major case in the Auror department was the recent werewolf news; as she was pulled off the case due to her conflict of interest, all the other Aurors were split between the three werewolf families, interviewing and investigating the various werewolf mates and their loved ones to present evidence to the Wizengamot for sentencing. With her extra time that afternoon, Tonks decided to finally talk to her mother about something other than lycanthropy, which had dominated her conversations at work and at home.

Once her tea was fixed, Tonks sat down in the parlor, where her mother already had a cup of tea and a sleeve of biscuits ready.

"It's very uncomfortable to even think of this," Tonks said, forcing her tone to be light and casual, "but I've thought about it and I'm okay if you decide you want to find someone…you know, to date."

Andromeda almost spat out her tea.

"I know, I know, it's weird for me too. I'm not keen on giving you dating advice, but I'm…open to helping a bit, I suppose."

"What gave you the impression I want to date?" Andromeda asked, her hand shaking as she set her cup of tea down.

"Nothing, honestly. I'm just telling you that if you want to date…I'm okay with it. I'm not calling him dad, no matter who he is, though."

"I wouldn't—" Andromeda began, dropping a biscuit from between her fingers. She picked it up and said, "I wouldn't ask you to do that, even if I were interested."

"Is there someone?" Tonks asked suddenly, realizing how odd her mother was behaving.

"No, no, not at all," Andromeda replied instantly. "This wasn't a conversation I expected to have with you."

"Well, we're not really talking about Remus. I don't want to talk about any of the werewolf stuff in the news. What's left to talk about?"

"It's really none of your business, Nymphadora."

"So there is someone?" Tonks felt that same cold, churning sensation in her stomach. Bile came up from the back of her throat, imagining her mother with someone other than her father, but she swallowed it back, determined to get the truth.

"There is not. You're most welcome to interrogate me, if you wish, but I assure you I'm telling the truth."

"Right…so what is it? Why are you acting so weird? Could you at least tell me if it's crossed your mind…finding someone to be with?"

"It has," Andromeda admitted softly. "Certainly you will understand why it would be difficult for me to consider anything."

"Don't tell me it's because Remus is a werewolf," Tonks said, exasperated. "He's your son-in-law and he's never around here."

"No, Nymphadora, although I'm confident that will be a difficult conversation, should it ever arise." Andromeda took her teacup in her hands, sipping quietly and properly, unlike Tonks's loud, unladylike slurps. "Your father and I…he was the love of my life. I can't imagine loving someone like that again."

Tonks frowned. She wondered, momentarily, if something happened to Remus. The idea alone made her heart clench. They might have their problems, but she loved him fiercely. She loved him so deeply that her Patronus had changed; only true, profound love was capable of this.

"What about new friends?" Tonks suggested. "Don't you have old friends from school…life? You and dad had dinner parties every now and then."

"Those were your father's friends and colleagues. I lost everything when I married him. Even my friends, Slytherin girls, the lot of us, abandoned me when I ran off with your father."

"Okay…why don't you reach out to dad's old friends?"

Andromeda cleared her throat awkwardly. Tonks realized it the moment she said it: his old friends were either dead or had turned their backs on him during the war.

"Would you consider Muggles? I reckon there's loads of Muggles—"

"Nymphadora, I don't need your help. I'm managing perfectly well, alone."

"But you are lonely," Tonks challenged, slurping her tea in a way she knew her mother would respond to, one way or another. "I know you are. Why not Molly?"

"Molly is very kind, but she has a busy life," Andromeda replied, clearly unamused with Tonks's attempts at engagement. "She has six children and her own husband. I don't want to impose."

"I don't understand. How could you not want to make friends or find someone if you're lonely?"

"I'm not like you," Andromeda said simply. "The last time I made new friends, I was eleven years old, and most of the girls in my dormitory I already knew from my parents' social circles. When I ran off with your father, his family became my family. His friends became my friends. I have you and my grandchildren. I don't need anything else."

Tonks suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "I get what you're saying, but you're what…50? Witches can live up to 150 years! What do you expect to do, live the next hundred years barking me, Teddy, and Hope around till all of us are gray and cranky?"

Andromeda's lip curled into a smile. "I assume Teddy and Hope will find spouses and have their own children. I'll be delighted to know my great-grandchildren, or great-great children, if I live that long."

Tonks finally did roll her eyes. "I'm trying to help you. I know you say you don't want the help, but even if you decide not to find someone to date – not remarry, just spend time with some bloke – it's okay. You can make new friends, too. I want you to be happy."

"Who says I'm not happy? Your husband?"

"I say you're not happy. I know you love Teddy and Hope, but I lived with you for a while last year and I know you miss dad and grownup conversation. Would you at least think about it?"

"I already have, dear," Andromeda said airily. "I'm very happy with the life I lead."

At this, Teddy ran into the parlor, covered in a blanket, and snatched the sleeve of biscuits, but tripped over himself on his way out. The blanket slid off of him and he gaped, openmouthed at his mother and grandmother, with his head turning a familiar, guilty shade of red.

"For Hope," he said, color rising to his cheeks. "She like biscuits."

Tonks couldn't help but laugh at her son's failed attempt at stealing biscuits. She let him run off with them anyway, making him promise to be honest next time.