Chapter Six
Tonks
I was trying very hard not to think about the hug, but it kept popping into my head, giggling madly, waving its arms and bellowing "Look at me! Look at me Tonks! Look at meeeeeeeeeeee!". Oh it was horrible. Two weeks had gone by and instead of putting the whole thing out of my head I'd managed to develop a full blown crush on Remus. I couldn't get anything done. I'd list all the reasons why I absolutely couldn't fancy him; He was thirty-six and I was twenty-one, he was neat and I was not, he was calm and quiet while I was always squawking and doing loud, disruptive things to make people laugh. For all these reasons he would never fancy me, so why should I bother?
But then I'd remember how nice he smelled (in spite of what certain werewolves thought). He didn't wear cologne or anything, he just had this lovely smell that only guys have, which is difficult to describe but wholly a boy smell. Or I'd remember how I could feel the outlines of his ribs through his thin shirt. Or that he had the nicest eyes I'd ever seen, the sweetest, most melancholy smile. That he was whip smart but not cocky about it. That he told jokes with a completely dead pan face, like he didn't care if you got them, but then kind of glanced at you just to check you were laughing. And then I'd be lost all over again, and I'd have to start listing and relisting all the reasons it would never work all over again.
I was in the middle of one of these mental battles when the owl flew in the window of my flat, landed on the sofa beside me, and bit me on the index finger.
"No need to be so pushy," I said, untying the scroll from its leg and unrolling it. I nearly swallowed my tongue; it was from Remus. For a moment I considered not opening it. I had the slightly crazy thought that he had somehow found out how I felt, though I hadn't said anything to anyone, and that he was writing me a letter to tell me to get over it. Except he'd be terribly kind and apologetic about it, trying not to hurt my feelings. But then I thought, there's a war on, even if not many people know about it. This is about the Order, not you. Remus cannot read minds.
Still, I was a little nervous about opening it.
Tonks, (it said)
Harry's been expelled. I don't know why. Dumbledore's at the Ministry now. Meeting in an hour to discuss how to get him to headquarters w/o upsetting muggle family.
R.
Oh dear, I thought. That's not good at all.
An hour later I was at Grimauld place, sitting around the kitchen table with everyone else, trying to figure out how to get Harry from Surrey to London safely without incurring the wrath of his aunt and uncle, who sounded horrible.
"I think we can all agree he needs a guard," said Moody, who was in charge of the operation. "Any volunteers?"
A great deal of hands went up, including mine, Remus', and Sirius'.
"I'm afraid your coming is out of the question, Sirius," said Moody. "You're a bit conspicuous, see."
Siruis grumbled a little, but didn't argue. Not surprising, really, Moody being a rather terrifying old bloke.
"So how are we going to get him out of the house?" asked Hestia.
"We should do it at night. It would attract attention if a flock of wizards showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the day," said Remus.
"His aunt and uncle don't like wizards at all. They won't appreciate all of you showing up in their house, no matter what the time. Better get them out of the house somehow," said Sirius.
"How?" asked Moody.
"Steal their car?" suggested Mundungus, hopefully. Molly glared at him.
"Um, perhaps not," said Remus. He caught my eye and I couldn't stop myself smiling. Oh pig, I thought. I am working. I am in the work place. I must not be hormonal.
"What about a diversion? Make them leave because they want to," suggested Arthur.
"They'd want to leave if someone stole their car," muttered Dung. Sirius turned his snort of laughter into a rather pathetic cough/sneeze hybrid.
Suddenly I had a brain wave. "They're very tidy, aren't they? Almost obsessive?"
There was a general murmur of agreement.
"Well why don't we make them think they've won some sort of prize for neatness? I bet they'd really go for it," I said. "We could send them a letter saying they'd won, like, the All England Best Garden Gnome Display, and give them directions to an empty field or something. Then we could swoop in while they're gone and get Harry." I felt like a regular genius.
"How 'bout best gutters?" suggested Bill.
"Nicest shingles?" said Remus.
"Best doormat?" said Molly.
"Cleanest windows?" said Emmaline.
"Best kept lawn?" said Sirius.
"Yes, that'll do," said Moody. "Best Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. Can you make up and send an invitation, Tonks?"
"Absolutely," I said, feeling terribly efficient.
In the hall after the meeting I was accosted by the Weasley twins, who seemed to have decided that I was the one most likely to tell them what we talked about.
"Please Tonks! You're the youngest one in the Order, have pity! Tell us what's going on!"
"I can't," I said, trying not to laugh. "You're not in the Order."
"We're of age, we should be!"
"But you aren't. I'm sorry, guys," I said, trying to be firm with them. Truthfully I felt bad for them, they wanted so much to help. Also, using the fraise 'you're not in the Order' made me feel a bit too much like the Man.
"Tonks, can I have a word?" Remus' hand was on my elbow, his face was very close to mine. I hoped very much that I didn't have bad breath.
"Erm….yes. Yes a word." I stammered. Oh God, so slick.
"A private word," he said firmly to the twins. They stalked off, looking resentful.
"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" I said nonchalantly, praying that he knew nothing about Legimency.
"The werewolf situation. You know they're uncertain about this. Well a lot of that has to do with not trusting wizards. I think it might be a good idea for them to meet some decent people. You wouldn't mind coming with me tomorrow night to meet with Tom and Meg, would you?"
"Why me?" I asked.
He shrugged, "Lots of reasons, really. They mostly dislike wizards, witches they find less intimidating. Superficially, You're around the same age as the members of Tom's pack, and your clothes are right. Also you're, erm," he cleared his throat. "You're nice."
I laughed, "Alright then. I'll see you tomorrow. Come to my flat."
And then I floated away in a purple and pink cloud of joy. So it wasn't a date. So what? I'd still be spending an evening with him. Oh la la la la life was lovely.
By the next night, as we walked down a shady looking street, I felt less like I was floating in a pink and purple cloud and more like I was walking into a building with something dangerous in it. The air here was taut with hostility and fear, and we hadn't even entered the center of Tom's territory yet. I had fallen into the ground eating, silent (okay, almost silent in my case), walk that I learned in Auror training. I was clutching my wand, listening as hard as I could, and standing up as straight as I could, trying to look larger than I was.
We turned a corner and stepped into what looked like the Red Light District. Girls in short skirts and too much make up and delicate boys wearing mascara lounged in doorways and down alleys. Back beats throbbed from clubs with neon signs saying "Girls! Girls! Girls!". We stopped at the door of a club where a man was calling "Step inside and see the lovely ladies of Chez Annmarie! Each one an English rose! They grow on you!"
"Alright Max?" said Remus.
"Oi Remus! How are you?" said Max, brushing his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes. When he saw me he blinked in surprise. "Well blow me! You e'nt bringing a witch here, are you?"
"I was hoping not to go in, actually. Is Meg off work yet?" he said.
"Will be in a mo'," said Max, lighting a cigarette. He offered one to Remus, who took it. I had the urge to snatch it away, saying 'No lung cancer for you, mister!' but refrained because smokers hate it when you tell them they shouldn't smoke.
There was a final clashing of drums and a series of whoops and cat calls from inside the club. Max stuck his head through the door and hollered "OI! MEG! YOU'RE NEEDED!"
A moment later a short girl with curly brown hair dressed in a crocheted tube dress and high heeled espadrilles came out of the club, tossing her hair back as she walked. She moved like someone utterly confident in her good looks. I had a flash of foreboding. I rarely get along with girls like that, as I am not one of them.
"Alright Remus?" she said, smiling up at him through her eyelashes.
"Alright," he said. "Meg, this is Nymphadora Tonks."
"Just Tonks," I said.
She regarded me for a moment, "You look really familiar. Have we met?"
"Don't think so," I said. Meg shrugged unconcernedly and plucked the cigarette out of Max's mouth.
"You have a wand on you," she said, taking a pull.
I nodded.
"Well keep it put away," she said. "None of that 'curry dildo lamppost humjob' business."
I glanced at Remus, completely bewildered.
"No magic," he said, looking extremely amused.
"Ah."
"Tom's down Sonny's," said Meg, and began to walk down the street ahead of us.
On the next corner we were hailed by an eleven-year-old girl in almost clownish make up and spiky high heels.
"What's shakin' Meg?" she said, trying to make her squeaky little voice smoky sounding. I had the urge to wipe off that ridiculous make up and give her some clothes that covered her up.
"Hello Moxy," said Meg, laying a hand on her head. Moxy shrugged it off, looking irritated.
"Got a fag?" she asked.
Meg produced a cigarette and a lighter from inside her bra and handed them to Moxy, who lit up and tossed the lighter back. She must have noticed me staring because she raised her chin and blew a jet of smoke in my face. "What?" she said aggressively.
Meg shook her head and continued on down the street.
"See you tomorrow Meg, right?" called Moxy.
"She's out there every night," sighed Meg. "Flogging her lamb chops."
I glanced at Remus, who looked terribly sad. Without thinking I laid my hand on his arm. He gave me a tight little smile.
"Here we are," said Meg. We followed her into a small, crowded pub. Rationally I knew that all these people were feral werewolves, and therefore dangerous, but I still felt more comfortable than I had all evening. They looked like the sort of people I might see on any night out with Mara and Eric. They stared at us as we passed, and I remembered Remus telling me about them being able to tell a witch just by smell. I wasn't seeing much negative attitude though. A man with his hair in cherry red dreadlocks and size zero gages in his ears stepped between Remus and me and grinned without showing his teeth, which made him look clownish.
"You new here?" he asked, offering me a joint.
Remus slid between us and grabbed my wrist, "C'mon, Tonks."
"You're with him?" said Dreadlocks. "That granddad?"
"Excuse me?" said Remus, raising his eyebrows. Suddenly he looked dangerous. It was nothing obvious, a sort of subtle shift in the way he held himself, a tenseness in his face that wasn't there before. He looked alarming.
Dreadlocks looked a little surprised, but he recovered himself, "You heard me, granddad." He slid his arm around my waist. "You want some fun, stick with me, babe."
I pulled free, "Touch me again and I'll break your nose."
Dreadlocks laughed and then smiled again, this time showing his teeth. "Sure darlin'. You give it a shot. Granddad can help."
I honestly think we might have broken his nose, and a few other things, if Meg hadn't shown up. She had her hands on her hips and a look on her face reminiscent of Molly and Ginny Weasley. "You want me to tell Nelly what you're up to, Arn? She won't like you chatting up other girls," she said. Out of the corner of her mouth she muttered "Don't attack him. You'll fuck it all up!"
Arn blanched. "C'mon, Meggy! You wouldn't."
"I would. Now leave Tonks alone, she's here on business." Meg threaded her arm through mine. "Always saving someone's arse, aren't I?" she said. "Ah, here's Tom!"
Sitting at a corner table was a tall man with a wilted Mohawk and a frightening knife with a curved blade tucked into his belt. That was when I realized that I had seen Meg before. Three years ago, at the ministry. Tom was one of the werewolves who'd come bursting into Auror headquarters, demanding to see Umbridge. Meg was the one in the alley who'd demanded that I revive them.
"Pink Hair!" said Tom, jumping to his feet. "Well blow me, 's you again!"
Remus blinked, "Oh!"
"So I have seen you before," said Meg. "Geeze, you were the one who stunned Tom and Nelly. Nice Remus, bring along Ms. Stungun."
"I didn't stun them," I protested. "I just took them out of the building and revived them. I'd never have stunned you," I added, telling myself that technically this wasn't a lie, as when I was nineteen I would have frozen (as I did). Now though, I probably would have stunned them. It was one of the things you learned in training; something big and scary comes running at you, stun it.
"Oh 's alright," said Tom, taking a swig of lager. " 'F I'd been you I'd've stunned you I reckon, if I had a way of doing it."
"Tom," said Meg. "How much've you had to drink?"
"Well I'm a bit tiddly," he giggled and sat back down. Meg beamed fondly at him.
Remus and I sat down too. I was trying my hardest to avoid his eyes, but I couldn't. The second we looked at each other we burst out laughing. Hearing a six-foot mad man with a big knife in his belt say 'tiddly' was just too much.
"God Tom. 'Tiddly'?" said Meg, shaking her head.
Remus was trying very hard to stop laughing, you could see it. When he failed he tried to turn the laughter into a coughing fit, but that just made him sound as if he'd swallowed a bird whole, feathers and all, was gagging it back up. Meg snorted into Tom's lager, which she was taking a sip of, and sprayed it all over the table.
"Hey it was mine, Meggy!" said Tom, looking desolate. "You sprayed it everywhere!"
Meg started giggling hysterically, "Oh you're such a baby! And you're not tiddly, you're pissed."
"No," said Tom, plaintively, cuddling his empty beer mug to his chest. The sight of him doing that did us all in. Remus' forehead was resting against my shoulder and I was nearly crying with laughter. Meg was clutching her belly, still giggling like mad.
"No respect!" said Tom. "No bloody respect, I tell you!"
It was a great bonding moment.