The following morning dawns bright and hot. The heat wave that had been going for almost two weeks was unrelenting and Nymphadora woke up in a sweat up against the window. She groaned, not wanting to open her eyes and accept her reality. Jordan always insisted that sleep on the side of the bed that's up against the window, meaning that she usually woke up pinned between him and the wall. She hated it. Sitting up, she pushes her bubblegum pink hair out of her sweaty forehead and sighs, looking down at Jordan.
This is what I want, she thinks. She grimaces, realizing that she was trying to convince herself that that was true. This is what I know. This is comfortable.
She climbs out of bed, trying not to wake him but as she's not very graceful, this proves difficult. The bed creaks and sags as the crawls awkwardly toward the foot of the bed. Before heading over to the kitchen to start breakfast, she picks her silk bathrobe off the floor and covers up. Just as the eggs start to sizzle, Jordan stirs from across the room.
"Morning beautiful," he calls. She takes a deep breath.
"Wotcher."
"Too busy to cuddle with your fiancé?" he teases. This makes her stomach twist.
"I've got a meeting in a couple hours," she explains. "Need to run a few errands first."
She hadn't been exactly truthful when she told Jordan she had errands to run. She just wanted to be out of the house. Later that morning, she left and started walking absentmindedly down London streets, passing shops and busy pedestrians as she cleared her head.
Finally, around 4:45, she shot down an alleyway to apparate. She pulled out the slip of paper that Mad-Eye had given her at work on Friday afternoon. She looked down at the address scrawled across the parchment. It was labeled The Burrow.
The next second, she felt her feet land in a soft, squishy substance. She looks down and realizes she's landed flat in a pool of mud. She groans, unsticking her combat boots and walking toward the structure up ahead. It was a curious little house, looking like it had just been added onto over the years rather than built as a cohesive whole. Magic was definitely involved in keeping it upright.
Before approaching the door, she finds a clean patch of grass to wipe her boots off in. She then takes a deep, nervous breath and knocks. A short, ginger-haired woman answers the door, beaming.
"You must be Tonks!" she exclaims, welcoming her in.
"Uh, wotcher," she answers, being ushered inside.
"Mad-Eye!" the witch calls. "It's one of yours."
She leads Nymphadora around a staircase and into a small kitchen where the majority of the room is taken up by a large wooden table - around which is seated an eccentric group of people. At the head of the table sit Alastor and none other than Professor Dumbledore himself. Along down the table, Nymphadora notices Kingsley Shacklebolt, an older ginger-haired man, Professor McGonagall, a shabby-looking wizard who looked vaguely familiar and…
"Sirius Black!" Nymphadora exclaims, immediately reaching to draw her wand.
"Tonks stop!" Alastor yells, rushing to get between her and the infamous mass-murderer - who also happened to be her cousin.
"What is HE doing here?" she questions after being knocked back by Mad-Eye.
"Tonks, you need to calm down, we can explain."
"Mad-Eye, we've spent the better part of two years working to find this son-of-a-bitch," she explains, exasperated.
He places his rough hands on her shoulders, keeping her from getting at Sirius, who eyes her darkly from the table. The shabby-looking wizard lays a hand on his shoulder, standing. Alastor then goes off on a lengthy explanation about the truth behind the Potter's murder and Peter Pettigrew's death. This information hits Nymphadora like a train. She had spent most of her life believing a false tale.
After calming down, Nymphadora felt very silly for reacting that way. She peeks over Mad-Eye's shoulder at Sirius, blushing.
"Are you sure you're ready?" Mad-Eye asks, holding her back.
"Yes, I'm fine," she mutters. He releases her.
"You sure you aren't going to send me back to Azkaban?" Sirius jokes from his seat at the table, smiling charmingly up at her.
"Not at this moment, no."
"Welcome to the Order," he replies, holding out his hand. "We're grateful to have you in the fight."
She takes it, shaking it slowly. She couldn't believe she was really touching Sirius Black, the man she had spent her entire Auror career chasing after. He was there, right in front of her, tangible. Yet, he wasn't exactly who she thought he was.
The man who had previously had his hand on Sirius's shoulder extends his hand next.
"Remus Lupin," he says. "Welcome."
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