Part Two

Despite the fact that Molly's Christmas dinner would be his last proper meal till he checked in with the Order next month, Remus found himself utterly lacking an appetite. Between Harry's startling news of Tonks' changed Patronus, Percy's unexpected arrival, and the ensuing tension between the normally relaxed members of the Weasley family, Remus could not bring himself to remain at the table.

His chair legs scraping against the wood floor broke the awkward silence. "Can I take anyone else's plate?"

"You're company, Remus," said Molly distractedly, not taking her eyes off Percy. "You don't have to—"

"I don't mind." Remus forced himself to smile as he Summoned Ginny's and George's empty plates. He turned to Fleur, but she clutched hers and slipped off of Bill's lap.

"You wash, and I will dry," she said, glancing – as did her fiancé – to Molly, obviously for approval or at least acknowledgment.

Molly, however, was completely preoccupied with Percy.

Blue eyes hardening, Fleur looked for a moment as though might throw her plate at the door behind Molly. But she flicked her hair silvery blonde hair carelessly over her shoulders and smiled at Remus as she joined him at the sink.

As he placed the dishes in the basin and waited for it to fill with hot, sudsy water, Fleur darted her eyes up at him. Though a second ago she had been the picture of poise, she now caught her lower lip between her teeth. Clearly, there was something Fleur wanted to speak to him about.

What on earth could Fleur Delacour possibly have to say to him?

She did not say a word, however – nor, Remus realised as he shut off the tap, did anyone else. Even Molly seemed to have been robbed of her faculties of speech.

He tried to ignore the mounting tension by fixing his gaze out the window at the garden as he scrubbed the plates. Scrimgeour appeared to be quizzing Harry quite as rigorously as an OWL examiner.

"Oh Percy!" cried Molly suddenly, and with too much enthusiasm. "How wonderful that you were invited to—"

Remus did not hear where Percy, who apparently had struck up conversation, had been invited, because Fleur snatched the plate he'd just cleaned.

"Even ze prodigal son eez treated better zan me," she said n tones lower and throatier than usual, rubbing the plate furiously with the dishtowel,

Though Remus wanted to point out that Arthur treated Fleur with enough warmth, and the twins seemed thrilled with their brother's choice of bride, he suspected the latter would give Fleur no real comfort. It was true enough that Ginny's cold regard toward Percy was more cordial than her open hostility toward Fleur; and Molly had never feigned enthusiasm for her daughter-in-law-to-be. Remus wanted to encourage the young woman, but there seemed no way to bolster her.

Nor did Fleur seem to expect any such thing, at least not from him. She went on, a little louder, "I deed not mean to eensult Tonks. She eez clumsy, no?"

Remus nodded weakly as he half-heartedly rinsed another plate.

With another shake of her shining hair, Fleur sent the dried plate to the cupboard and snatched another from him.

"Zat eez a fact," she spat, shooting a look in Molly's direction that surely had the power to wither if Molly had met Fleur's eyes. "And yet zey treat me like a villain for saying so. Zey theenk I do not like her, or zat I am jealous." She gave a snort of laughter. "How could I be jealous of any woman?"

Battling his own defensive instincts, reminding himself that tactlessness and conceit were Fleur's ways, and generally not meant to harm, Remus managed to shrug.

Suddenly, Fleur's proud frame wilted.

"I am sick and tired," she said, "of coming here where zey sing ze praises of Tonks. Tonks eez not marrying Bill. I am." She added, more quietly, "But Molly will not even try to like me. She knit a jumper for you. And zere eez one for Tonks – I saw Molly send ze owl." Lower lip quivering, eyes huge and luminous, Fleur's hair fell in her face as she sadly wagged her head. "But nothing for moi."

What lurid colour jumper had Molly knit for Tonks this year? What pattern was worked onto the front? He hoped, wherever Tonks was – surely not spending the holiday alone, as Molly thought she was – it brought a smile to her face. Last year they had laughed together over their jumpers, then worn them proudly to supper.

"Would you like mine?" Remus offered lightly.

Fleur smirked at his jumper, emblazoned with a grindylow. "Ze oatmeal colour would not suit my complexion."

"Oh yes. Of course."

They fell silent as Molly stopped talking, but when Bill addressed his younger brother, Remus said in a hushed voice, "I know this is not about jumpers, Fleur. I'm sorry."

Appreciation flickered across her beautiful features, but then her face took on the fierceness of a veela.

"So will Molly be. Eef she eez trying to run me off, eet will not work. And eef she wants Bill to look at Tonks, zat will not work eizer."

It was on the tip of Remus' tongue to praise her conviction, when Fleur added, "Anyway, Tonks does not want to be looked at. She has let 'erself go."

"What?" The plate he was washing slipped out of his hands, splashing dishwater on the front of his clothes and clanking when it struck the bottom of the sink.

At the table, several redheads turned to him with inquisitive expressions.

"I'm not breaking your dishes, Molly," said Remus with levity he did not feel.

Molly glanced at him with a vague smile, then turned back to Percy, nudging him toward his old place at the table, at which Remus had been sitting, and pressed him again to at least have a bit of pudding.

"What do you mean?" Remus whispered to Fleur. "What do you mean Tonks has let herself go?"

"Her 'air. Always she wears that 'orrible brown. And she eez as skinny as a boy." She arched a brow. "She eez lovesick."

The lingering image from his dream of Tonks, mousy haired and forlorn, forced itself to the front of his mind.

"No." Remus shook his head as he fished the plate from the murky dishwater and scrubbed at the dried gravy. "Tonks is fighting a war—"

"Of ze heart," Fleur interrupted. "'arry said her Patronus changed. Zat eez very rare. Eet means something."

It could mean anything. Tonks was under enormous amounts of stress. She was young, and facing the deaths of colleagues and loved ones for the first time; she was tired, overworked. Anything could have altered her magic. She'd lost a morph without realising it whilst investigating the Brockdale Bridge incident, and the Bones and Vance murders.

It could not be him. She had moved on…

"Zey say she cannot Metamorphose at all," Fleur said, taking the plate from him.

Remus clutched the edge of the sink as another image of Tonks leapt into his mind.

Her hair had gone brown the last night he'd seen her.

The look on her face then was the one he'd seen in his dream.

Surely she had not looked that way since…

Leaning heavily against the counter, he bowed his head. He felt like he might be sick.

Merlin. What had he done? Surely it was not right that he had sacrificed her for his mission.

"Eef I were Tonks," said Fleur, "I would not have stayed home pining. Eef ze wizard I wanted was here, zen I would have come after him. She should stand up for 'erself. Like moi. Bill's mozzer might not want me here, but I am here, and I will be here every time Bill eez. Because I know I am ze only witch for him."

Though insulted on Tonks' behalf, and though the weak part of himself said he had been a fool to end it with her, that he ought to go to her and beg forgiveness and ask if they could start again, Remus forced the thoughts back. Fleur might be self-centred, but her steadfastness in the face of Molly's unjustness was admirable.

He saw Tonks in her.

And though the looks Molly had given him when the subject had arisen during the meal, he still held out hope that Tonks' absence was as much an act of defiance as Fleur's presence was.

"You are a formidable woman, Fleur."

Her chin jutted as she regarded Molly, who was blinking hard against tears and trying to look pleased as Percy talked about the Christmas dinner he had enjoyed with a member of the Wizengamot.

"Of course I am," said Fleur. "I was a Triwizard Champion. I can outsmart dragons. I could be an Auror eef I wanted. And I will be Molly Weasley's—"

The door flung open, and a disgruntled looking Harry strode through, not looking at anyone as he headed for the stairs with an agitated gait. Scrimgeour stood on the stoop, expression hard on Harry's back, then affecting pleasantness as he regarded the Weasleys.

"I do hate to cut your time with your son short," said the Minister, "but Percy and I have other destinations…"

Remus did not miss the looks of relief on the young Weasleys' faces, but Molly swallowed hard and implored Percy, "You can't even take time off for Christmas?"

With a superior expression, Percy said, "It's wartime, Mother. Most of us have—"

The entire contents of a bowl of mashed turnips splattered his face.

"I'd better check on Harry," said Remus to nobody in particular, dashing for the stairs as Percy stormed from the house, the twins and Ginny gleefully owned up to the turnip prank, and Molly burst into tears.

Though Remus hated to trespass upon Harry's privacy, it felt wrong to completely ignore what had just transpired with Scrimgeour – there might be something the Order needed to know about. Fortunately, he found the door to Ron's bedroom wide open. Harry stood glaring out the window at the Minister and Percy, who had paused at the Apparation point while Percy wiped his horn-rimmed, turnip-splattered spectacles on his cloak. At the sound of the floorboards creaking under Remus' weight, the teenager turned.

"I hope I am not intruding." Remus shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

Harry shook his head of messy black hair.

"Judging from the Minister's rather artificially cordial smile," said Remus, leaning against the doorframe, "I presume he was not as charmed by the Weasleys' garden as he indicated he would be?"

Once again Remus was struck by how, without ever having known his father, Harry reproduced James' smirk exactly. There was an edge of defiance in the set of Harry's jaw and squared shoulders, however, which was more like Sirius than James. Remus couldn't help but smile faintly at how pleased it would have made Sirius to see how he'd influenced Harry even in their brief time together.

With another slight shake of his head, Harry said, "Scrimgeour wanted to know what Dumbledore's up to, and tried to bribe me into supporting the Ministry by promising me an Auror position when I finish school."

Despite an urge to gawp, Remus managed to return Harry's unconcerned smirk. How frustrated Tonks must be with her employers these days. Was the climate of the Auror department worse with Scrimgeour in a higher position? Remus knew little about Gawain Robards, the new Head of Aurors, but he suspected Scrimgeour had selected him because he would toe the line.

"He accused me," Harry's voice filtered through his jumbled internal monologue, "of being Dumbledore's man through and through."

Remus stood up straighter and met Harry's gaze levelly. The green eyes flashed with Lily's sense of decency and justice.

"I would be proud," said Remus, heart swelling a bit that perhaps, in spite of his errors last night, he had helped Harry come this state today, "to be accused of such an affront to the Ministry as that."

Harry's face split with a cheeky grin – but the smile did not fill his eyes. It suggested he would like to be alone now, a wish with which Remus sympathised.

Turning from the room with a renewed sense of duty, Remus supposed that an accusation of being Dumbledore's werewolf would have to do for him.


It was the quietest Christmas afternoon Remus had ever spent in company, and the most unexpectedly so, given his hosts. Even last year, in the midst of Arthur's harrowing near-death, the Weasleys had not been so grim. Today the twins and Ginny were particularly morose, showing bursts of liveliness only in miserable and futile attempts to make amends with Molly for the way they'd driven Percy from the house. Remus tried not to dwell on it – or on the looks Molly, repeatedly shot in his direction, seated before the fire in the sitting room, whilst she cleaned the kitchen.

Did Molly expect comfort from him, as he had done last Christmas, when Percy had sent back his jumper?

Likely not.

She looked as vexed with and hurt by him for Tonks' absence as she looked with her children for Percy's.

Tonks had made the right decision in not accepting Molly's invitation. There was no holiday cheer to lend distraction from personal grief. His talk with Harry had reassured him that it was better not to see Tonks – no matter how much he might wish to resume his role of confidant, to have some influence in her life that would make sense of her Patronus change. He could not be a consistent figure in her life, nor was he in any way a pillar of strength.

As if Tonks could not stand on her own two feet.

That was why she had not come. It was wartime. She was focused. She was not allowing personal distress to affect her job.

But she was suffering deep emotional issues, which took a toll beyond her control, and which were all his fault.

Why hadn't she told him?

"Take a turn with us, Remus?" Molly's voice broke into his musing.

Remus turned to see her and Arthur at the front cupboard putting on their outdoor things. Molly's tone had been gentle, but brooked no refusal. That voice of hers which even the twins never dared to disobey.

Reluctantly, Remus stood and left the warmth of the fire.

As the trio stepped out into the snow-covered yard, Molly wasted no time getting down to business.

"Harry told you about Tonks' Patronus, then."

"And…" Remus started to say Fleur, but did not want to give Molly an excuse to be perturbed with the young woman. "Someone else told me she cannot Metamorphose."

Molly looked momentarily horrified, then her gaping mouth twisted into a scowl as red-blonde eyebrows knit. "Who—?"

"I would have preferred," Remus interrupted, "to hear it from Tonks herself."

"When could she tell you?" Molly asked with a snort. "She's been respecting your wishes that you not see each other."

"Molly," chided Arthur mildly.

The redness fled Molly's cheeks as she heaved a deep sigh, and tears quenched the fire in her eyes. "She didn't want you to know. She thought you'd enough on your mind without worrying about her."

"Sounds a bit like someone else we know," Arthur said with a small, sad smile.

Remus flushed, hating how public this whole affair was. Everyone knew he had not told Tonks of his assignment prior to Dumbledore's announcement at an Order meeting. At least Arthur seemed to recognise he had meant to protect her.

It was a small comfort.

"You're a matched pair," said Arthur.

Remus shivered as slush seeped in through a hole in his shoe, drenching his sock. "Tonks was having difficulty before we…before I…called it off," he said hoarsely. "Emotional distress, being physically overwrought—"

"That's what she thought at first," said Molly. "But then her Patronus…Well, that sort of magic doesn't lie. She knew you were at the centre of it all when hers changed to a…"

"To a wolf," Arthur finished for her.

"To a werewolf."

In Remus' peripheral, Molly shuddered.

"Surely you see," he said, quickening his pace, "why she did not come today. It is completely understandable that she would not wish to spend Christmas Day with someone who has…done this to her."

A gust of frigid wind made Remus turn up the collar of his patched, threadbare coat and hunch his shoulders against the chill.

Huffing as she tried to match his brisk pace, Molly said, "Tonks thinks you won't see her."

Arthur's long strides brought him into step with Remus. "No one means to say it's bad Tonks' Patronus changed. If she couldn't cast one at all, now, that would be a problem. What's it matter what the form is? She's got security."

Remus spun so suddenly that he had to reach out and stop Molly with his hands on her shoulders so they wouldn't collide. Her blazing eyes – like blue fire – held him for a moment.

"Werewolves are not secure," he said, eyes fixed just past Arthur's shoulder. "They steal and kill…" His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "They destroy."

Molly was ghastly pale and tight-lipped, but Arthur, cheeks flushed and breath making almost jaunty puffs in the air, said lightly, "Come off it, Remus. You don't do any of those things. Isn't that why Dumbledore's sent you, to convince others with your condition that there are better ways of living?"

Remus' mouth opened with retort, but words failed as the wind swirled around them, howling its dissonant, mournful song. It was a sharp contrast with the bright sunlight, and it reminded Remus of howls.

Werewolf howls.

His howls.

It was his only voice, when transformation came upon him. He was powerless to stop it. They all were. His arguments fell upon ears that understood no other message.

"In any case," Molly tentatively broke the prolonged silence, "you've got a lot of unfinished business with Tonks. Please go and see her."

"I can't," said Remus, backing away. "She's got to get over me."

Molly scowled. "Are you over her?"

Remus drew a long breath. "That, Molly, is entirely beside the point." He turned on his heel and started back to the Burrow.

"If you don't speak to her at the meeting tomorrow," Molly's shrill voice called after him, "I'll put you in a full-body bind till you do!"


A/N: Last chapter's reviewers are very much appreciated. I do thank you all for sticking with this continuing descent into angst. Remus would do well to follow our example, and plod through the rough times with another person, wouldn't he? Tell me what you think of this one, and you get to put Remus in a full-body bind.