Chapter Four
So strangely you dazzle my eye!
Tonks was reveling in a lovely dream of the hot springs in Bavaria that she had visited with her parents one summer. As the warm water bubbled and swirled around her, she felt the aches of the long mountain climb melt away, filling her with peace and pleasure. She tilted her head back to look at the ancient trees towering above, and as she marveled at the azure sky. she could see the nearly full moon, bright enough to penetrate the sunlight. Around her she felt magic and nature in perfect harmony. The only thing out of place was the insistent tapping of a woodpecker, which grew more jarring with each passing second. She opened her eyes to see an owl tapping its beak against her window. Slipping out from under Remus' arm, she padded to the window and slid it open it as quietly as she could. The owl hopped in, dropped the letter written on the familiar dark blue parchment with a gold seal, and then flew impatiently away. She opened it quickly, muttering very rude words under her breath.
Remus' eyes fluttered open to the agreeable sight of Tonks' lovely backside. Her skin shimmered with gold from the early morning sunlight, and her graceful neck was bent over the parchment in front of her.
"Bad news?" he asked quietly.
She let out a squeak and spun around, startled. The view improved immeasurably.
"Merlin, Remus, you frightened me!"
He raised an eyebrow as he propped himself up on one elbow. "I have a tendency to do that to people. I am a werewolf, you see."
She giggled, then her face grew serious. "They want me to come to work. You'd think I'd have earned a couple of days off, but no. That wouldn't do. They've given me fifteen minutes to be at an emergency staff meeting."
"How rude."
"My thoughts exactly. No time for a shower, even."
"Who knows how long that owl took to find you, though."
"Don't you dare defend them, Remus. They have ruined all my plans for a lovely lie-in with you."
With a wicked smile, she hopped up onto the bed and started to sinuously crawl towards him.
"I'll hex the lot of them, starting with Scrimgeour." He grinned until she pinned him back to the bed with a scorching kiss.
A moment later, she groaned, " Bugger it all! I have to go."
She slid off her bed and started to tear apart her already messy room, searching for some clean clothes.
He sat up against the headboard, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her dressing hastily while muttering and bumping into things. As she drew on her Auror's robes, she bent to the mirror, screwing up her face until her hair turned into a bright turquoise pageboy.
"What do you think?" she asked, catching him as he watched her in the reflection.
"You'll do. But I'll miss the curls."
She turned around to face him. "You are very cruel, you know."
He raised an eyebrow in question.
"You are, lying there looking all rumpled and gorgeous and shaggable with your hair in your eyes, knowing full well I have to go and sit in a deadly dull meeting for who knows how long picturing you like that."
"I think you need to have your eyes examined."
"Nothing's wrong with my eyes." She pounced on the bed again, kissing him enthusiastically. When she pulled away, he growled in frustration and she gave him a regretful grimace.
"I'll be back soon," she promised, and disappeared with a small 'pop'.
Remus tried to go back to sleep, knowing that he'd had less than nine hours sleep over the past forty-eight. But he had so much restless energy flowing through him that he found himself wandering down to the kitchen less than half an hour later. One of Molly's cinnamon buns would be the very thing, perhaps with a large cup of coffee. But the kitchen was abnormally silent for this time of day. Of course, he thought, she would have stayed in Hogsmeade, to be near her injured children. He would figure out something on his own.
At any rate, it was probably a good thing that he didn't have to explain the goofy grin he had on his face only two days after his best friend died. Not that he didn't feel a dull ache inside when he thought of Sirius, but he was certain that his friend would not have begrudged him his present happiness.
As he fried up bacon and eggs, he shook his head in wonder. Of all people, he had fallen in love with Nymphadora Tonks. This slip of a girl, with surprising strength of body and character, had managed to dance past his defenses when he wasn't looking. Nymphadora, he could see her in his mind, with her lovely pixie face and sparkling dark eyes. She was cheerful, funny, painfully honest and unfailingly thoughtful, in addition to being quick witted and resourceful, clumsy and self-deprecating. How different would his life have been if he had met her twenty years ago? But he wondered if his youthful self would have noticed in her what he found loveable about her now. Even more, would he ever have had the confidence to approach such a vibrant, courageous girl? He sure as hell had never had the nerve to approach Lily, who would certainly have found in Tonks a kindred spirit.
Even now, he wasn't sure how he had managed it, though he had to admit that these feelings had been creeping up for nearly a year. Certain that the wide gulf in their ages and lifestyles was impossible to cross, it was safe to feel protective toward her, to think of how appealing she was, and how easy to talk to.
He had told himself that it was abstract, that it was possible to appreciate her as a woman while still considering her off limits to him. He indulged in their flirtation by telling himself that it was meaningless, that she couldn't possibly think of him that way. He tried to ignore the fact that he had sought out her company by taking on Order duties that included her whenever possible. It was easy to explain away the anticipation he felt when he knew she would be spending the evening at Grimmauld Place. But the gut-wrenching terror that he had felt when he saw her fall, seemingly dead, at the Department of Mysteries was a little harder to accept. The physical pain he had experienced listening to her cry through her door last night was unsettling, to say the least. And the moment that he looked down at her to see love and desire in her eyes, he knew denial was a lost cause.
Their timing was appallingly bad, and he knew in his head that he ought to feel guilty for violating his own staunch code of ethics. There were compelling reasons as to why he had chosen to live his life alone. But last night, in this horrible house, in the midst of war and loss, he found love and hope for the future. He didn't have the heart to let them go.
He was mopping up the last of his eggs with toast when Mad-Eye Moody came spinning out of the fireplace.
"I thought you were still upstairs, Moody," he said, startled out of his reverie. "Can I get you something to eat?"
"S'that coffee you've got there?"
When Remus nodded, Moody located the pot, and after examining it carefully, poured himself a large mug.
"Glad to know you trust me not to poison you."
"I'm going to trust you with a lot more than that by the time the day is done," he replied with a grim smile.
"Had an emergency meeting with Dumbledore and Shacklebolt." He sat down wearily on a nearby chair. "First off, Dumbledore has decided that this house may have become dangerous for us, at least until we get Sirius' will sorted out. So he wants us to clear out, today."
"I'll go up and pack. I can stay at my place up north."
"No, Albus wants all of us to stay close together, to make contact easier. I told him you could bunk down with me 'til it's settled."
"I appreciate the offer, Alastor, but the full moon is Tuesday…"
"Yes, and Snape will bring the potion to you, as usual. I've got a basement; you can go down there if you want to be alone. It's more than secure."
"Well, that's very kind of you." He got up to wash his dishes, then turned to Moody. "Is there a second thing?"
"The Dementors seem to have ditched Azkaban, so the Auror department is taking over guard duty, temporarily. We won't be able to count on Shacklebolt or Tonks in the next few days."
Worry for Tonks' safety made him blurt out, "Is that where she…where they are assigned, Azkaban?"
"Don't know, but they were all doing double shifts already because of the fight the other night. This'll stretch the department pretty thin. They may get desperate enough to call me back," said Mad-Eye with a grim laugh.
"Well, it looks like we'll all be pretty busy. Bad time for a full moon, it seems…perhaps I should pack up for Tonks, too?"
"You do that. We can store it all at my place. Shacklebolt'll make sure she doesn't come back here when she's free. I'd better go deal with that miserable Hippogriff upstairs."
Remus felt cold dread in the pit of his stomach as he climbed the stairs. Nymphadora, at that horrible place, guarding the dregs of the magical world. Evil, powerful wizards who would be reawakening from the despair they had suffered at the hands of the Dementors, angry and desperate. Rationally, he knew that this was the sort of work she did on a daily basis, but this seemed worse, somehow. Many of the prisoners would be of great interest to Voldemort, whether for reward or punishment. What if there was a retrieval mission put into effect while she was on duty? The hopeful, joyous peace that had filled him this morning began to diminish. It was deflated by the pessimism that only a lifetime of exceptionally bad luck could produce.
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Tonks had been in a foul mood all day. Three bloody days on this cursed island with no outside contact from anyone but her supervisor. She was ready to tear her hair out, pick a fight with a prisoner, jump into the chilly ocean and swim back to London. Tonight was the full moon, and he would be suffering, and she would be hundreds of kilometers away. When she received her assignment, there hadn't been time to send a message to anyone. The Floos here were monitored heavily, as was the mail, and no Patronus in her experience could have made the long trip across the water. She could only hope that Kingsley had thought to notify the Order where she was. She had promised to be back soon. Who could have predicted this?
She'd had nothing but time to think. If she'd known that morning that she would be spending this time apart from him, she would have done things a little differently. She had a sinking feeling that he might be wallowing in recriminations for the night they had spent together. She knew him well enough to imagine that he might feel that he took advantage of her, that he ought to have thought it through instead of following his heart. She should have made sure he knew how she felt before leaving. She had been so flippant, so casual. But he had to know, didn't he? She hadn't imagined the depth of emotion that they had shared. Days later, she was still shaken by the memories that kept running through her head.
Jogging around the perimeter of the island on her off-hours was the only way she could work through her frustration. The prison was far worse than she could have imagined, even without the Dementors to suck the happiness from the place. It was filthy, depressing and cold, even at this time of year. And Sirius had lived here for twelve years. She ached for him, and wondered again how he had been able to retain his humanity through the ordeal. She wasn't entirely convinced that anyone deserved the conditions in this place. The food was disgusting, the showers ice cold. There wasn't a single thing on the entire island that contained any beauty or comfort. But if anyone did deserve it, it was her wards. Filthy bodies, they had even filthier souls. They snarled and taunted her, threatened and leered. Sick, twisted and perverse, they tried to contaminate her mind with their filth. She clung to thoughts of Remus, his nobility, his decency, his strength and kindness. But today her head was filled with other images, only imagined. Images of anguish, the sound of bones cracking and lengthening, of muscles tearing and reforming. Even with the potion, it must be agony. She'd seen the aftermath, what the pain did to his body and spirit. She wanted to do whatever she could to make it easier for him, but she was too far away.
She saw a flock of owls flying overhead as she finished her run and returned to the living quarters she shared with her co-workers. Bugger. She was left alone with Miles, the slimy git. He'd been an embarrassing error in judgement last year. An embarrassing error in judgement fueled by two shared bottles of wine, no less. She'd been able to avoid him around the office fairly well, but he had been making this bad assignment far worse by his close proximity. He was sorting through the mail, and greeted her with a smirk.
"Where's Jensen?" she asked.
"On rounds with Porter," he replied, "I saved some lunch for you, Nymph."
She looked at the gelatinous glob of beef stew in front of him. "Ugh, is that as bad as it looks?"
"Worse."
"Well, thanks anyway, but I'll just have the bread." The bread was stale, but she knew from past experience that it was the only thing they served that wouldn't make one vomit. She had been living on bread supplemented by the chocolate bars and dried fruit that she had thrown in her knapsack before this assignment.
"Any word?" she asked hopefully.
"Nothing for us, I think they plan on leaving us on this rock for the next year."
She grimaced, and he continued, "Not that I wouldn't enjoy spending more time with you, Nymph."
"Thanks," she said shortly. Eager to escape, she blurted out, "D'you want me to take the mail round?"
"Okay, sure," he said, surprised. She was officially off duty for the next four hours and none of them would volunteer to spend more time with the prisoners then necessary. He handed her the basket, and she hurried off.
"Get a bloody clue, UGH!" she muttered to herself, flipping through the letters. Oh, hell, why did Malfoy have to get mail every day? She dreaded looking at his smug face. You would think that the degradation of prison and the shame of his disgrace would take his arrogance down a notch, but he continued to look at her as if she was something disgusting he'd stepped on. She got a little satisfaction by greeting him as 'Uncle Lucy,' which always irritated him visibly. She would take whatever small pleasures she could in this place.
She finished her deliveries as quickly as possible, then sat on the rocky shore, staring toward the mainland. It was a little colder than it ought to be at this time of year, and the distant coastline was covered in fog. She quickly cast a warming spell, then closed her eyes and tried to daydream herself away from this place. Lying back on a large rock, she pictured a park that she and Remus had taken Sirius to. They had put down a blanket on the warm grass, soaking up the sun together. Remus had lain down on his side, propped up on an elbow, and read a book. The lines around his eyes had relaxed, making him look young and carefree. Tonks stretched out on her back, her arms crossed over her head and her eyes closed. Sirius draped himself across her feet, his black fur tickling her ankles pleasantly as he watched the families in the park. The sound of children playing and the distant drone of traffic lulled her to sleep.
She woke up with a start, cold and sore from the unyielding rock beneath her back. She looked up at the dark sky, where the full moon slipped out from behind a cloud. She shivered, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
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Remus paced the floor of the basement in agitation. He could feel the panic bubbling up into his throat, heated by the feral energy that pulsated through his body. He wondered why it had seemed so urgent to see her, to talk to her, before he transformed tonight. His apprehension had increased with each passing day: needing to know that she was safe, that it had been real, what he felt that night and to know that she felt it too. But doubt and fear gradually overpowered the simple certainty that he had woken up with that first morning. He tried to focus on an image of her laughing face, filled with love, but the loathsome creature inside of him ripped it to shreds, filling his heart with shame and despair.
He awakened the next morning, curled up in a ball on the floor, shivering, weak and sore. He heard thumping footsteps coming down the stairs and sat up, his keen eyes surveying the dark basement, filled with magical devices in various states of repair. Moody appeared at the bottom of the stairs, carrying a steaming mug and a blanket. He set them aside and with a grunt, held out his hand to help Remus stand up. He guided him to the nearby cot, where Remus sat down gingerly. Moody draped the blanket around the younger man's shoulders and handed him the mug, which was filled with hot broth. He never said a word, but gave Remus an awkward pat on the back, and headed upstairs.