Only a few days after that surreal inaugural Order meeting, Nymphadora Tonks found herself on the steps leading up to Number 12 Grimmauld Place once more. Although it was late June, a chill hung in the air and the clouds seemed heavier than usual. A spiteful breeze whistled down the street and she tugged her pullover tight.

As the two dank London townhouses on either side parted with heavy creaks and grinding bricks at the sound of the whispered address, the Black family legacy emerged looking as grim and moribund as it had before in the long-shadowed evening. Her father's people also lived in London but this region was entirely foreign to her. The street reeked of old money and upturned noses and everything the Tonks clan was not in their squatty little rowhome down in Camden. Not that she saw that side of the family very often anymore, what with Auror training and now, well, this. She wasn't quite sure what Grammy Tonks would think of her new scars and she didn't look forward to the task of explaining them away. Wotcher, Grammy! How'ya been? These? Oh, these? Just had a bit of a run-in with a dog. Tonks couldn't help rolling her eyes at herself. As if it would be safe to even see her Muggle family these days.

Happy thoughts, Tonks. Happy thoughts.

Her morning had been particularly disheartening so she'd come to the only place she could think of to escape as Florence Bartleby's words from her house call kept rattling around her mind: Tsk, tsk, another mark on your record, Miss Tonks…while the rest of the Wizarding World goes on, how lucky you are to have this nice, long holiday, but I'm afraid that doesn't mean you get to be lazy and neglect your potions. Think of it as your duty to society… If only I could lounge around and sleep all day!

She'd only taken half the prescribed tonics and poured the rest out. The effect was a blessedly clear head, the strange mental fog and drowsiness of the past month fading to almost normal. But somehow Bartleby had known and reprimanded the Auror as though she were a child.

Now, now, Miss Tonks…

An embarrassment to your profession…

must have lowered the Auror standards if this behavior is acceptable at the Academy…

She knew the verbal jabs were meant to hurt, but that didn't stop them from doing some damage even still. Not that Tonks wasn't used to bullies. You couldn't go through puberty with a name like Nymphadora, have an aunt famous for the Dark Arts, and possess an utter inability to keep your mouth shut without growing dragonhide skin. But the Ministry witch's words hit home nonetheless, mostly because they echoed what she was already thinking.

Every day, the ugly routine of her new life threatened to overwhelm her with boredom and a not insignificant level of despair. While her father left the house for work and her mother had gone on another extended shopping trip to Diagon Alley or retreated into her potion room downstairs, Tonks tried to stay physically active, practicing her spellcasting and defensive dueling. She had read an unconscionable number of books, watched some awful programmes on her dad's beloved Muggle telly, and broke then repairo'ed more saucers than she could count. Technically, she was allowed to leave the house, but she was required to report her whereabouts and give an account of why she had left and what she had done.

Nothing made one feel more like an adult than having a strict curfew, no income, and living with one's parents.

Unable to sit a minute longer stuck alone with her thoughts, Tonks pulled at the iron chain next to the front door at number 12. What sounded like a banshee wailed from the other side followed by a series of thunks, thumps, and what was likely muffled curses.

A peephole slot flipped open revealing a single morning-raw eye before the door creaked wide and she was tugged inside wherein a horrid spewing of racist, classist vitriol met her ears.

"BEFOULER OF THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! PUTRID STENCH UPON OUR GOOD NAME!"

"Come on, you rang the bell and woke her up. Help me close the curtains," Sirius yelled in her ear.

She briefly thought her cousin was leading her to a window in the wall where a severe, enraged woman sat flinging curses out like confetti at the House Cup award ceremony, pallid face pulled taut with rage. Then the wild gaze of the woman fell on her. "YOU! DAUGHTER OF THE BLOOD-TRAITOR WHORE! CHILD OF FILTH AND PESTILENCE, YOU DARE ENTER THESE HALLS!"

Tonks blinked and grimly set about mirroring her cousin's attempts to close the curtains framing the portrait. A full minute of vicious tugging and wrenching later, the screeching had at last stopped and the pair stood panting, ears ringing.

"Who the bloody hell was that, Sirius?" Tonks demanded, rubbing the side of her temple where a massive headache threatened to bloom.

"My apologies, how rude of me. That sweet lady was your great aunt—my mum. Best keep your voice down or you'll wake the poor old dear up again. Merlin knows she needs her beauty rest."

"That was your mum? Delightful," Tonks said with a grimace, then took advantage of the newfound peace to look around, finally able to take in the décor.

His mother…so this was the house he grew up in. She'd heard enough stories to shiver at the thought. They had never been bedtime stories. They had been the ones her mother whispered to her when explaining why she only had one pair of grandparents when everyone else had two, why shopkeepers and wizards on the street sometimes cast fearful looks at her mother in Diagon Alley, why the many spells around the house meant no surprise guests or visitors. Ever.

"Well," Tonks said, "at least she matches the whole aesthetic you've got going on. I see cobwebs and hatred are in this season. I'll have to let Mum know."

"If you've had enough of meeting your family for now, may I suggest coming with me to the kitchen for some breakfast?"

"It's nearly noon, Sirius."

He shrugged and with an arm around her uninjured shoulder, guided her down into the kitchen. "From where I'm standing, it looks like you can do with a meal regardless. Got some rolls, bacon, and eggs made in case some Order members come by."

"How domestic," she laughed.

He pulled out a chair at the long kitchen table which he gestured for her to take. "I hardly got the chance to have guests over for the last fourteen years, now did I? Humor me."

While he made a plate for her, she took a moment to observe the room. Unlike the dank and ominous entryway, the kitchen was blessedly free from sneering ancestors and malodorous clouds of dust. It wasn't quite cozy yet, but the bronze chandelier cast a warm glow and the smell of bacon never hurt to brighten up a room. In fact, with another couple of deep cleanings, it would almost remind her of the Hufflepuff common room, a safe and snug burrow.

His puttering—Holy Helga, is the notorious Sirius Black puttering over my breakfast?—gave her the chance to observe her host as well. Although she had seen him at the Order meeting, she'd been lousy with exhaustion from the transformation and had frankly been too nervous to pay much attention to details. But as he worked, she had a hard time reconciling the laughing madman in the wanted posters to the trimmed, well-washed gentleman who whistled at his task and tied his long black hair back with a purple velvet ribbon. Of course, some grooming and a few square meals couldn't round out the gaunt cheeks and hollowed eyes just yet. She could see the family resemblance to her mother in their thick, arched brows and dark eyes. Maybe a little something of herself there too, if she squinted.

Still, Tonks knew in a moment they'd all been wrong—she'd been wrong—this whole time. She looked down before he caught her staring, a flush of shame searing her chest.

Sirius laid the plate before her and set a cup of tea down as well. "So," he said, settling into the chair next to her, clutching his own cup. "Miss me already, Tonksie?"

She snorted and went about making a sandwich. "Funnily enough, you're more entertaining than staring at a blank wall all day. Congrats."

He smiled broadly, yet in a way it was almost sad. When she raised an eyebrow, he sighed, "You might think I sound like one of those doddering old fools I used to hate, but I can't believe how you've grown. Last I saw you in person was before my trial. You were just a kid, now look at you! A Hufflepuff and an Auror to boot? I don't think I could be prouder. Well, maybe if you were a Gryffindor, but no one's perfect and let's face it, I wasn't there to help raise you properly."

Tonks spoke around a huge bite, suddenly ravenous. "From what Mum's told me, if you'd have been around with those friends of yours I'd have gotten expelled before the Sorting Hat even touched my head."

"And from what I remember of the trouble you used to cause, it's a miracle you didn't get expelled on your own anyway."

"Not for lack of trying," she replied.

Sirius threw his head back, letting out a sudden, sharp bark of laughter that made her jump. Then, tilting his chair on its back two legs and propping up leather boots on the table, he reached into his overcoat and pulled out a flask, adding a generous amber dollop to his mug. He noticed her watching and gave a grin. "Purely medicinal, I assure you. Care for a drop?"

"Nah," she said, beginning on her second sandwich. She sniffed the pungent air and made a face. "Dragontooth Rum in the morning, Sirius? Already trying to corrupt your latest recruit? Last time I drank that, I woke up with a new tattoo and had a headache for a week."

"Wicked," he said, approvingly. "Now, after you're done eating, would you like a formal tour of the most noble house of Black, now henceforth known as Headquarters?"

She nodded hurriedly, stuffing down as much as she could in one go, gulping down the last of her tea, and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand as she got up to stand. Tonks froze—almost as though she could hear her mother's sharp whisper: "Nymphadora! Where are your manners?" But Sirius got up with her and shrugged. "It's hard coming back to the world of the living," he offered, that same small sadness in his eyes. She quickly looked away from his empathy.

"Now, so far there are only a few rooms in the house that are reasonably safe. And even then, I wouldn't touch much or open cupboards too recklessly—the house is old and Mum and Dad had a wicked sense of humor. Literally. Back when I was a kid, we had a couple house elves with strict orders from my mother to not give us extra food so I never came down here." Guiding them both back up the stairs, Sirius' fell to a whisper as they passed under her aunt's portrait and began down the hall. "Now that the Order will be holding regular meetings as we make plans and report on missions, I hope to clear out as many of the bedrooms as possible to have space for people to stay. Ground floor right wing is the library and formal sitting room which are full of the worst items so I haven't gone in yet."

"Now here," he continued, moving into a wide archway, "is the dining room. My parents rarely hosted, but when they did I'd finally get to see the whole big happy family, Lestranges, Malfoys, Parkinsons, and all."

"Charming," Tonks muttered as she once again took in the space, unicorn horn candelabras crowning the middle of a theatrically long table spread out under the glassy gaze of a stuffed and mounted iridescent wyvern head snarling above the mantel. "Absolutely charming." She shivered under the weight of its dull eyes while he reminisced, "Regulus, my brother, named it Blue Ben when we were younger. Somehow the nickname never made it less intimidating."

Tonks cocked her head, thinking for a moment, then gave her wand a little flick and a glorious handlebar mustache sprouted above where its top lip would be. "What an improvement," he laughed, "wonder we never thought of that."

They spent some time there poking around tentatively before moving through the house, Sirius regaling her with family anecdotes full of ludicrous pomposity and none of the violence she knew he was holding back.

He led her up and down staircases, past mummified house-elf heads and pureblood iconograpgy, and even through a bookcase at one point. After an hour—or was it four? The ache in her sides from laughing made it hard to tell—she couldn't tell which halls were which anymore and after a few dusty bedrooms, she felt as if she had seen them all, though there were some doors he didn't—or couldn't—open. Too soon they were back in the kitchen and she found it hard to try and leave.

"I want to help with the house," she said. Sirius was busy emptying his flask into a new mug, but when she spoke he raised his head excitedly. "That'd be excellent! Here, I'll put your name up," and simply used his wand to write "Tonks" on the wall beneath the previously etched "Moony" and "Padfoot." Both had a series of tallies chalked next to them, almost an equal amount if she was reading it correctly.

"What's that?" she asked.

"A game we came up with, the more dangerous the object or creature you defeat while cleaning, the more points you get."

"And who's 'Moony'?"

"One of my best mates, you'll meet him soon I reckon."

"But'Moony'? It's not because of—?"

Her cousin grinned, "Exactly."

"It is not, Padfoot. Don't go around spreading that lie. Again."

Tonks and Sirius turned to see the same man who had come by her house with Dumbledore not so long ago sporting a righteous pair of bags under his eyes. She wondered when the last time was he had had a full night of rest.

"Remus! Glad to see you! I was just telling Tonks about our little competition. She's game to come by and help us clear out this old mausoleum."

As Sirius spoke, Remus went straight to the kettle, bringing it to a steady boil in a matter of moments.

Sirius had just started explaining the rules to her when Remus cut in, facing them with arms tight against his chest and a severe cloud on his brow. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Sirius chuckled, "What d'you mean? What's not a good idea?"

"I mean that I don't believe it's wise for Miss Tonks to risk her recovery by overexerting herself, especially so soon after the moon."

"It's Tonks, just Tonks, Professor Lupin," she said, trying to put as much schoolgirl judgement in the word as she could muster from her days at Hogwarts. "And as I told you before, I'm fully capable of knowing my limits."

He scanned her, assessing from head to toe. "Your bandage in need of redressing. And you're favoring your right side even though you're left-handed. It's clear the bite is hurting you."

Tonks' hand went to her shoulder where the linen cloth was slightly damp, indicating either blood or pus had soaked through. Delayed pain followed the wave of embarrassment she felt.

Her shoulder where she had been bitten was still bandaged, but she had begun to be accustomed to the pattern of angry red lines and punctures tracing down her arm from the bite site where cursed teeth and claws had pierced her skin to hold her down like prey. Scars were something every witch or wizard knew could be delt with easily with a simple spell, or if they weren't up to it, a visit to St. Mungo's. But these weren't going anywhere and they never would. Cursed wounds from a cursed creature.

She needed to be gone from here—the familiar sense of dread and tension were rising in her chest as she thought about that night.

"Moony, come on. What's wrong with you?" Sirius whined.

"I told Dumbledore that she wasn't ready. It's too soon, Sirius, she'll get hurt."

The irritation she felt at the Ministry witch's criticism and censure returned in full force, compounded by the arrogance and dismissive tone of this stranger.

"I don't need or want your professional opinion to tell me what to do. Or your personal one, for that matter. Three members of the Order stood up and said I deserved to join so I'm here to stay, whatever you believe, Remus Lupin." She turned to her cousin, saying, "I should be heading home before Mum and Dad start wondering where I went."

Sirius looked at her crestfallen. "Oh come on, Tonks. You don't have to leave just because he's being a prick. He gets testy when he hasn't had enough sleep," he added in a stage whisper.

"I do not!"

"Nah, I really should go—but I'll be back soon to help or attend the next meting, whichever comes first. Thank you for the lovely time, Sirius—I'm so glad you're back," before gingerly wrapping her good arm around him. Because she couldn't think of anything nice to say to the other one, she merely nodded in parting, leaving the room in tense silence behind her.

0000

Remus groaned and rubbed his eyes until they watered as his tea steeped.

"What was that, Remus? It was disgraceful."

He already regretted his earlier words. "I really don't like mornings."

"That's pathetic. It's afternoon. Try again."

"Is it so hard to believe that I'm worried about her and I disagree with Dumbledore's decision? I thought Alastor had more sense than this too, but apparently we're desperate for warm bodies."

"I'm worried about her too but you didn't have to be such a condescending git about it."

"None of you seem to understand the gravity of the situation. We can't just treat being a werewolf as we would her having the sniffles."

"Oh there you go again, the old 'Remus-knows-best' routine."

"Listen, I stopped by to keep you company but I've just now remembered how much I dislike it sometimes, so I'll be off."

"No you won't. Come on, mate, go upstairs and get some rest. I'm surprised you didn't splinch yourself on the way over the way you look. As pissed as I am right now, you're clearly not thinking straight. How'd you get this way?"

"Dumbledore wants us to keep a running watch on Harry's aunt and uncle's house. I was in Little Whinging the past two nights laying some protections and the neighbors kept calling the police. The Muggles have these new security sensors we'll have to disable each watch and because members haven't had the chance to re-arrange their schedules I'm running double-shifts. Got another tonight before Hestia can be added to the roster."

"So the grey hair and bad attitude you have now was part of a disguise or have you already aged that much this time around?"

Remus caught a look of himself in a hall mirror as they passed by and flinched at the silver on his crown and cheeks. With some effort he concentrated and hoped it had changed back.

"You can take Regulus' room for now. They'd never touch it. Now, get some sleep and dream up some ways you can grovel to my cousin."

Before Remus had the chance to fully close the door he thought he heard Sirius whisper, "Idiot."