Part Three

As Remus descended the basement kitchen stairs of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, his eyes instantly locked on Nymphadora Tonks. She sat at the far corner of the table, absorbed in quiet, grim conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

It was an Auror's demeanour, and while not an attitude Tonks wore often enough that Remus considered it a dominant facet of her personality, he had seen her in action enough that he had never doubted whether she was suited to her career. And she had always remained Tonks. Even at her most serious, she had always exuded life and colour.

Now, if she had wanted to disappear into the dingy wallpaper of the old Black house, she could have done. As in Remus' dream, mousy brown hair lay flat against Tonks' head. Her robes parted to reveal a magenta jumper only Molly could have knitted for her, but instead of brightening her appearance, it accentuated her paleness and the dark circles under her eyes. Though her loose-fitting clothing made it difficult to tell for sure, her high and prominent cheekbones indicated that Fleur's description of Tonks as being "skinny as a boy" was not a huge exaggeration.

She looked tired.

She looked sad.

She looked…

…older.

As Remus followed the Weasleys to the table, Tonks' gaze shot past Arthur and Molly to fix on him.

Her dark eyes blazed, and looked huge and strange in her thin, white face.

Remus felt the gazes of the other Order members looking on curiously. His skin crawled under the intense scrutiny, and more than anything he wanted to stop looking at her. But he was paralysed by truth.

The hungry expression in Tonks' too-bright eyes confirmed his worst suspicions: she hadn't got over him.

Remus looked around the table for a vacant seat as far away from Tonks as he could get. However, Molly and Arthur had seated themselves in two of the three empty chairs beside Moody, leaving the one directly across from Tonks for Remus. With all these witches and wizards watching, most of whom likely wanted to hex him to next month for treating Tonks as he had, Remus had no choice but to take the seat. He felt oddly detached from his limbs as he pulled out the chair, and he tripped over the leg as he stepped around it, practically falling into it rather than sitting.

"Wotcher, Remus," said Tonks shakily. "Turning into me there?

"Evening, Tonks." He reached across the table to shake Shacklebolt's hand. "Have a good Christmas, Kingsley?"

In his peripheral, Remus saw Tonks' face and posture fall.

As Dumbledore called the meeting to order, her eyes remained fixed on the mahogany table. Remus tried to ignore the knot in his stomach; he had his report to give and others' to hear.

Molly caught his eye as he averted his attention to Dumbledore. She froze Remus with a tight-lipped glower and mouthed, "Talk to her."

He had no doubt she really would bind him in his chair.

Remus' frustration boiled, and Molly's pursed lips and irritated glances only made it worse. Why should he speak to Tonks? He had nothing to say to her that he had not said before, and if her trouble was that she had yet to move on, then it would not do for him to have any interaction with her that might give hope.

But his internal battle was effectively distracting him from Dumbledore's opening statements. Only when Remus looked at Molly and nodded in submission, did his thoughts settle and allow him to focus on Order business.

When the meeting adjourned, Remus stood and reached across the table to lightly touch Tonks' hand.

She inhaled sharply, and he noticed that the small hairs on the back of her hand rose as she shivered. Her eyes closed as though she were revelling in the contact.

Immediately, Remus withdrew his hand. "May I have an interview, Tonks?"

Beside him, Molly snorted, and Arthur quietly admonished his wife as he pulled her toward the stairs, which most of the Order had already ascended.

"An interview, Remus?" Tonks made a sound that could have been a repressed sob or a choked laugh. She rose from her chair, and as she sauntered around the long table continued, "That's formal. Fancy werewolf manners? Do you sit around sipping Wolfsbane potion and discussing politics?"

In spite of himself and his pang at having hurt her again, he chuckled at her reference to a joke he'd made the last time they were together. Judging from Tonks' small smile, which made her look a little more like her old self, his amusement genuinely pleased her. He noticed a new, quiet maturity about her. It made his heart constrict, though at he was simultaneously relieved that she could laugh, and that he could, too.

"This is how I like to see you." She stood so close that he felt as though her eyes, velvety with tenderness as they swept his face, caressed him. "You look sixteen when you laugh."

"I am afraid," he said, clearing his throat and stepping back from her, "that I far more frequently look every day of thirty-eight."

"You're not thirty-eight till March."

"One is as old as one feels. But I suppose I am belying my good breeding by discussing so course a topic as age."

Tonks' eyes narrowed, and her cheek muscle flexed as she tightened her jaw. "I don't think you're that polite. You didn't stop by mine or Floo or owl me Happy Christmas."

"I did not think you would welcome season's greetings from me."

"Why'd you think that?" Tonks shot back, arms folding across her chest in an imposing stance. But it was a voice raw with emotion in which she demanded, "Wouldn't you have welcomed them from me?"

Remus' shoulders sagged under the weight of her words. His hands, hanging at his sides, felt leaden. He wondered that they did not pull him to the floor as he sighed heavily.

"Molly said…" he began softly. "You didn't spend Christmas alone, did you?"

"I worked."

Remus' eyes fell to his shuffling feet. "Tonks—"

"I had lunch with Dumbledore at the Hogshead."

A little relieved, and considerably surprised, he looked up at her again. "What about the feast at the school?"

The corners of her mouth curved in a wry smile. "He likes Aberforth's turkey."

"I see," said Remus, smiling at the very clear picture he had of Dumbledore enjoying a meal at such an establishment as the Hogshead. "Do you like Aberforth's turkey?"

"I wasn't very hungry," Tonks replied. "How was Molly's?"

"I hadn't a great appetite myself."

Several moments' awkward silence settled over them, increasingly so for Remus as Tonks' steady gaze and slightly parted lips recalled to the front of his memory the images from his dream.

There was no doubt in his mind that if he gave in to the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her, she would respond with the same longing he felt.

"What a pair we are," Tonks said.

It recalled Arthur's similar comment, and roused Remus from the waking dream.

"That is precisely what I wish to speak to you about," he said. The voices of lingering Order members filtered from the upstairs hall. "Shall we step outside?"

As he held the porch door open for her, Tonks shot him a piercing look. "I know you know about my Patronus, so don't you dare try to play detached and reasonable with me."

The door banged shut behind him, and Remus found himself much closer to her on the porch than he would like. He stood straight and drew a deep breath as though to hold himself away from her.

"That is the whole problem, Tonks. Apparently I have not been diffident enough, or else you would still have your Patronus, and not some tainted—"

"Tainted?" Her mouth and eyes rounded with absolute bafflement, and Remus thought of Arthur saying no one thought ill of the change.

Turning at an awkward angle so as to avoid brushing against her, he shambled down the porch steps and into the yard, shoving his hands into his pockets, fumbling for his gloves.

He glanced around the garden. Snow and ice clung to skeletal rosebushes, and sharp blades of dead grass poked up through the dirty slush. The unkempt, gloomy setting seemed appropriate for the sort of discussion they were about to have.

But it had also been the location where he and Tonks had first revealed their feelings to one another. It was, perhaps, careless of him to reject her in this place.

How long ago that day seemed.

It was long ago. More than a year had passed.

So much had changed.

Sirius had been alive then. Tonks' hair had been brightest pink.

The snow crunched as she approached. He turned to face her. The sharp cheekbones, the drawn mouth, the old eyes…He glanced upward and drew a ragged breath. God, he'd never felt so ashamed.

Tonks had given him her full heart. He had returned it broken, emptied even of her colour.

"Your Patronus is a werewolf," Remus said. "Don't you see the irony that your spirit guardian is the very thing that stole your powers?"

Pale to begin with, Tonks now was the epitome of livid. "Who blabbed?"

"It doesn't matter," said Remus shakily, unable to put force into his words as he hoped. He had surprised himself with the blurted admission that he – not grief or overwork or fatigue – was responsible for Tonks' inability to Metamorphose. She did not refute it. "But not Molly."

Tonks looked slightly relieved, but her body tensed as she crossed her arms again, her posture made her seem so small. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised. You were the only person other than my parents who didn't know."

Again she diffused him. "Is that why you didn't spend Christmas with them?"

She turned her head, and her profile was stony. "I told you, I had to work."

"Tonks…" He found himself reaching for her, but he withdrew his hand before he touched her chin, balling it into a fist and shoving it into his pocket so forcefully that he heard the fabric rip.

She looked up sharply. "You know I only went home for Christmas dinner last year because I hadn't an excuse not to." The glint in her eyes softened. "How could they understand? I didn't want to hear Mum bitch about you breaking my heart and me needing to move on, because it's not that simple."

"Isn't it?"

Though rebuttals were evident in each of her expressive features, Tonks merely shook her head and stepped around him.

In a surprisingly light – almost laughing – tone, she said, "So Harry recognised my werewolf?"

"He described it as a big four-legged thing."

She smiled slightly. "I reckon it wouldn't occur to a kid that his professor might have a love life."

Again he resisted laughter. "No. Especially as I am not a professor, and I haven't a love life."

Tonks' thin frame bristled. "D'you want to see it?"

It took a moment for him to register she was offering to show him her Patronus.

"I…" Remus cleared his throat and ran a trembling hand through his hair. "I see far more werewolves than I would like."

Immediately he chided himself allowing a degree of bitterness to slip into his speech as he had done during his conversation with Harry, as Tonks drew in a sharp, startled breath and regarded him with a deeply furrowed brow. He shuffled his feet as he wracked his brain for neutral words. But Tonks, turning abruptly to pace the length of the frosty flowerbed, spared him the trouble.

"Why'd Harry care, anyway?" she threw back over her shoulder.

"He didn't know Patronuses could change."

"It's so rare, I'd forgot till mine did," Tonks said in low tones. "Figures, doesn't it, that I'd have a morphing Patronus?" She let out a puff of mirthless laughter. "How'd you explain it to Harry?"

"Emotional upheaval."

Tonks stopped walking. Remus watched the rise of her shoulders as she drew a deep breath. "A textbook answer."

"It is a textbook case."

She whirled to face him. "My textbook never mentioned broken engagements."

The swift motion made her wobble slightly, but Remus, too, felt off-balance. "We were not—"

"Bollocks! That's bollocks, Remus, and you know it. You may not have knelt and put a ring on my finger, but we were as good as engaged."

Her bright voice echoed in the crisp air, and Remus glanced toward the house, half-expected to see a face pressed to the windows, eavesdropping.

"A year, Remus! We were together for nearly a year, and you threw me away!" she cried. "You didn't even try to make it work, and you let six months go by without so much as a single word! Didn't it occur to you that I'd be worried about you?"

"I checked in with the Weasleys—"

"Don't be ridiculous! That's not the same."

A hundred hot retorts, most of them beginning with "Don't you be ridiculous!" leapt to his tongue, but his conscience rendered him mute. Her words might not be fair, she might be oversimplifying the situation, but emotion had been bottled up inside her for six months. What was that Molly had said about unfinished business?

"If this is unresolved anger, Nymphadora, then I apologise for not giving you the opportunity to have it out before now."

For an instant she looked as if she wanted very much to hex him. "I've been mad as hell," she said in barely controlled tones, "at Dumbledore."

"At…"

Remus fell back from her, fortunately meeting the wide trunk of a tree, against which he leant heavily. It was cold out, but he'd broken into a sweat, and thought he might be sick, as he had after his dream.

"Oh, Tonks."

"I should have been mad at you," she said. "He…he didn't tell you not to be with me during your mission. That was all your doing."

Sudden vexation surged up in him that Tonks had not moved on because she'd misplaced blame.

"Dumbledore never presumes," he said, "to tell any of us how to carry out an assignment. You ought to know that."

For just an instant, her eyes bent, and she bit her lower lip. Then she met his gaze again with narrowed eyes.

"Can you blame me for thinking it?" she shot back. "Does it make sense for a man to propose – or sort-of propose –" she added with just a tinge of a mockery "—one day, then break up with no reason the next?"

Remus' retort caught in his chest as he drew in painfully cold air. When he exhaled, his breath a wraith-like swirl, the arguments that had fuelled his strength left. He sagged against the tree, and his eyes darted everywhere but at her.

No. From that point of view, it made perfect sense.

But it was a young point of view. A first love.

Straightening, Remus said, "As I said, I was a fool to think I could ever give you the sort of marriage you deserve."

"And this is what I deserve?" She clenched her fists at her sides. "Being pissed off at the last person in the world I should be because he's sent you on this damn mission? Because I hate it, Remus. It's bloody changing you. And I can't just watch Dumbledore sacrifice you—"

"You have no obligation to worry about me."

"Like hell I don't! I love you."

She stepped closer to him, un-balling her fists as she raised them, and pressing her palms to his face. Her touch was cold as ice, but he didn't flinch. He closed his eyes.

Her hands.

Her little, rough hands.

Her clumsy, but careful hands…

"I love you," she whispered, "and it hurts me to see this hurting you."

Opening his eyes, he saw that Tonks was, indeed, in agony. For him.

And it could not be.

He had to give her back her heart.

He caught her wrists and gently pulled them away from his face.

"This is why we should not see each other." He pushed her back and released her. "This…This is how it is for me. We all must make sacrifices in war."

"We all might have to die," Tonks corrected. "What you're sacrificing is worse than dying. Dumbledore never expected you to destroy yourself by cutting yourself off from the people who love you."

"Nor did he intend for me to destroy you. Please, Nymphadora. You need your powers back. Your life is ahead of you—"

"Not without you."

"And there is so much more for you than working through holidays—"

"But there's not for you? I'm sorry, Remus, but it's not your decision what's for me. I'm a soldier, too."

And a good one – there was no disputing that. She was focused. But how long could she keep up this way? She was older now. The past six months had matured her.

Aged her.

She was too tired, too resigned.

Too like him.

That damn Patronus was giving her a false sense of security.

"I'm sorry," he said, brushing past her.

"Did you stop loving me?" Tonks' called after him.

The question, echoing in the still air, stopped Remus dead in his tracks. He had skirted that topic throughout their conversation, but he couldn't avoid a direct question.

He could not lie to her.

He could not tell her the truth. It would give her hope. And there was no hoping, not for him.

"I know you still love me," she said, tremulously. "That's the only thing I'm sure of anymore." From behind, she slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. "That's why you're my Patronus."

Remus stood rigid in her embrace. He felt the slight swell of her chest against his back. She was holding her breath. Waiting for him to respond.

There was no response. He hadn't the slightest idea what to say, or how to understand that she saw this as a good thing, how everyone seemed to think this was a good thing. How could she be sure of his love when there was nothing certain about him?

Tonks released her breath, and seemed to shrink as she slipped back from him.

"I've got to get back to Hogsmeade," she said dully. "Duty tonight."

As she retreated to the house, Remus found himself unable to let her go like that.

"Tonks," he called.

She stopped.

"Nymphadora." He swallowed hard, but his voice remained raspy. "Happy Christmas."

Tonks turned, stared at him for a heartbeat. "Christmas was yesterday."

But she flew back to him, and his arms circled her reflexively as she hugged him tightly.

"Please take care of yourself, Remus." She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, hard, for a split-second. "For me."

She sprinted back to the house without waiting for an answer – because it had not been a request. It was just as well, he thought as he dug the toe of his shoe into the snow, because he didn't have an answer.

Everything he'd done, he'd done for her.

And he would give her back her heart…

If only she would take it.

The End


A/N: Thanks very much to all who have read this story, and especially to all who have taken the time to leave such thoughtful feedback. Your support is really amazing. The next instalment should be up pretty soon, as it's pretty much complete except for revisions. And Gilpin and I are hard at work on our joint fic – about half-finished now, though we do tweak things to death, so do keep your eyes peeled for it sometime in September. It's much lighter than Transfigured Hearts is at the moment, though Remus and Tonks never can make anything too easy on themselves.

Review this last chapter, and you may have an interview with Remus, who promises to exercise his werewolf manners – which may or may not be characterized by political conversations. :grin: