Yes
In Tonks' experience funeral, wakes were jolly affairs. After the solemnity of the service everybody got a few drinks down them and breathed a sigh of relief and caught up in a way they couldn't before the body was in the ground. Dumbledore's funeral was not like that. The wake was almost sadder than the service because of the awful quiet and stiffness. And the fear thick in the air. Nobody was drinking as much as they usually would, concerned that alcohol would lead to hysteria or a drunken, panic-filled argument. Mad-Eye's magical eye was spinning, on the look-out for possible brawls or worse, unwanted gatecrashers. Moody wasn't much good at sentiment or ceremony, so Tonks knew that his watch was to give himself a purpose rather than out of necessity. He was sitting near her, and it was nice to have him close, as it was Hestia and Kingsley on her other side, but the conversation was forced and dispirited. Tonks tried to stop her eyes flicking over to Remus, who was chatting to Hogwarts Express trolley witch. They were both facing away from Tonks but she could imagine him charming her in that old-fashioned way he had; pulling her chair out for her to sit down, calling her "Miss" not by her first name (come to think of it, what was the trolley witch's name?) and asking her after her family. Tonks smirked, remembering how she and Sirius had used to tease him about his ooh-what-a-nice-boy manners- but the smirk faded quickly when she remembered that Sirius hasn't been here for over a year, and Dumbledore was gone too, and that it was Snape, whom Sirius had never trusted, who had killed him. Everybody had dismissed Sirius' doubts about Snape as leftover teenage rivalry, retaliation to Snape's sourness towards him, and frustration at being stuck in the house. If they had listened to him would Sirius and Dumbledore both still be alive?
The Three Broomsticks suddenly felt cramped and unpleasant. Tonks stood up abruptly, murmured something to Kingsley about needing some air, and elbowed her way through the crowd of people to head outside. At the doorway she passed Mundungus, who naturally was showing somebody the gleaming contents of his pockets. Tonks had always found his ridiculous anecdotes and incorrigibility a laugh, but he was always wary of her. She assumed this was due to her closeness to Moody, with whom Dung had never seen eye-to-eye. He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around distractedly as she passed.
"Nothin' to see here," he muttered.
"Yeah right," Tonks scoffed, then had an idea, "Have you got a fag, Dung?"
He looked curiously at her. "Didn't know you smoked,"
Tonks shrugged.
"I'll borrow yer one if yeh keep quiet about this to your boss," he said, grinning deviously.
"Everybody knows what you're up too, Dung, and nobody cares because it's a flipping funeral," she told him, "Just give me a cigarette,"
Mundungus looked offended, but fumbled in his pocket and a moment later held out a single and very grubby hand-rolled cigarette. Tonks took it.
"Ta," she muttered, and stepped out into the darkness. There was a wall round the back of the pub and Tonks walked over to sit on it, remembering fourth year when Atticus Ali had been caught spraying graffiti there, and sixth year when Mickey and his boyfriend Stuart had been caught doing something much worse (according to Professor Sprout, anyway. The general consensus amongst the rest of Tonks' year was that Mickey and Stuart were pretty badass but that they should have remembered to cast a silencing charm). Tonks sat down on the cold wall, tapped the end of the fag with her wand to light it, and took a drag. She coughed, not having smoked a cigarette for months. She'd done it at Hogwarts, leaning out of her dorm window with the other girls, none of them liking the taste but enjoying feeling rebellious and grown-up. She'd given it up for Auror training though, reserving cigarettes for treats only; birthdays, New Year's Eve, mates' housewarmings. Albus Dumbledore's funeral.
How could he be dead, she grimaced, twiddling the fag between her fingers. Dumbledore, proponent of trust, murdered at the hands of a man he had repeatedly insisted had earned his faith. What the hell was anybody supposed to do now? Everything was unknowns and uncertainties, even more so than two years ago when You-Know-Who returned and last year when it was made public knowledge. Dumbledore had been a constant, like clouds or houses- something that was always there. Tonks brushed a tear from her eye before it fell, and pushed her hair behind her ear. It had grown again and faded from pink back to mousy brown on the walk back from the funeral service. This wasn't a surprise- it had taken extensive effort to turn it pink that morning. The brown had been a permanent fixture for almost a year but damn it if she wasn't going to wear pink hair to Albus Dumbledore's funeral. After an hour of gripping the sink, concentrating hard and trying to ignore the mirror's unhelpful attempts at encouragement, Tonks' reflection had looked back at her with bright pink hair. She'd forgotten how good it looked and felt, and then she'd thought about how much everything had changed since she'd last seen herself with that hair, and how much everything would keep changing now that Dumbledore was gone. How much worse everything had gotten and was going to get. The pink-haired girl in the mirror was from a different life. But it had been nice to look like that girl for a couple of hours even if she didn't feel it, so despite the inevitability of the brown hair's return, Tonks still felt betrayed by it. She nearly laughed scornfully at herself then- feeling betrayed by her hair when Snape's betrayal of Dumbledore had led to murder. And poor Harry, having to watch it on top of everything else he's gone through. The Order were too late again- they're weak and sluggish. They killed one unimportant Death Eater that night and the Death Eaters killed Albus Dumbledore. The Death Eaters must have laughed themselves sick at Dumbledore's pathetic little guerrilla mob who'd achieved nothing in two years. Tonks thought she was joining the Order to fight, but did it count as fighting if all they did was lose? She scrubbed her tears on her jumper sleeve. They hadn't even decided on a new leader. It was probably going to be Mad-Eye or Kingsley, who she loved and who were experienced duellists and tacticians, but they didn't have Dumbledore's resources, experience, contacts or extensive knowledge of, well, everything. The Order didn't stand a chance against the Death Eaters.
Stop your whingeing, barked Tonks' inner Mad-Eye, don't get ahead of yourself. What do I always tell you- all you have to focus on is staying alive for the next five minutes. Thinking of Mad-Eye's growled philosophies usually made her chuckle, but not tonight. Tonks wondered what Dumbledore thought of in his last five minutes. Was he scared? She didn't think she'd ever seen him afraid. What about his last five seconds? Snape's gloating face was probably he last thing he ever saw. That was one of the worst parts; after all the incredible, bonkers, brave things Albus Dumbledore had done, he'd ended his life wandless and helpless, murdered by his colleague and supposed friend.
There was a crunch of leaf. Tonks' eyes snapped open and she held up her wand- Auror training stuck with you even in times of despair. Constant vigilance, after all. Someone was walking around the side of the pub towards her.
"Lumos," she whispered, and the tip of her wand glowed white. Tonks held it up to see the figure's face. It was Remus. He lit his own wand and took a couple of steps forward. Her heart started hammering loudly. Stupid thing. She'd been thinking about Dumbledore and Snape and how the Order were doomed, but this impossible man still had that effect on her even a year after he'd split up with her. As Remus came closer she saw that he had an odd expression on his face; bamboozled, half-smiling. Tonks dropped the cigarette.
"Yes. Yes, alright," he said.
Tonks wasn't sure she'd heard right. "Come again?"
"Yes," he repeated, louder. He took a deep breath and said, "I will marry you,"
She stared at him. "What?"
"I lost all my best friends on one night, I got one back only to lose him again. I lost my mother, I've lost Dumbledore, and I wasted time with all of them. I don't know if I'm going to lose you too but if I am I don't want to waste time anymore. I thought you'd be better off without me but you weren't, and I was worse without you, and Sirius and Mam and Dumbledore and everyone would want us to be happy, and what else are we fighting for? So yes. I want to marry you,"
"You're drunk," Tonks realised. It was almost a relief; he was drunk and melancholy so there was no need to get her hopes up. He was waxing poetical nonsense and wouldn't remember in the morning.
"No, I'm not. I love you and I want to marry you, so if the offer's still there I accept. And if the offer's not there-" in a swift movement he was sitting beside her and had taken her hand. He met her eyes and Tonks knew straight away that he wasn't drunk. She knew what he was like pissed, and he didn't give those kind of steely looks. Moreover, even if he was totally trollied he wouldn't mess with her like this. Which meant that it was for real. Tonks gaped. What. The. Hell. Of everything she'd expected to happen tonight, this was not it. Remus looked back and his expression was controlled but fierce.
He opened with mouth but before he could get the words out Tonks blurted, "Don't say it,"
Later she wouldn't be able to explain why she hadn't wanted to hear him ask. Perhaps it was because this was all happening so fast and unexpectedly. They'd barely seen each other since the night Dumbledore died, both busy with separate Order and Ministry work, and Tonks had been mortified to speak to him after what happened in the hospital wing; she'd known he'd been stuffily furious at her. On the walk up to the funeral she'd taken his hand but insisted that it meant nothing and was just for today. Remus hadn't said anything back. And now here he was at the wake, agreeing to the offer she'd made weeks ago in the heat of anger and pain, and had repeated tearfully a few times since to assure him that it hadn't been a moment of madness.
Remus' mouth snapped shut.
Tonks had no idea what was going to happen next, and blurted, "Are you trying to hijack this? I'm the one who proposed first,"
Remus looked back questioningly and she kicked herself for making a joke. Why did she always do that? Tonks shut her eyes, cringing. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't expect this,"
He didn't say anything. He was still holding her hand. Tonks remembered watching him practise piano at Grimmauld Place, thinking how graceful his hands were. She remembered too, fiddling with his fingers, and how much he liked that. The memory of his little smile when she played with his fingers had come uninvited into her mind all year.
"Yes, the offer's still there," she said. She opened her eyes as Remus' face cracked into a beam. She hadn't seen that for a while, and it was such a beautiful smile. Tonks felt herself smile back.
"Well," he said steadily, "I accept,"
"Right," Tonks mumbled, "Thanks,"
"Yes, then?" he prompted.
"Yeah. Of course,"
He dived forward and kissed her. His mouth was and warm and insistent, the kiss wet and hard and she returned it hungrily. Oh God, she'd forgotten what his kisses tasted like. How right they felt. This incredible man who was so careful with his love, but for some reason had given it to her. He was going to be hers forever. She was going to love him and protect him always. They weren't going to be apart ever again.
"Are you alright?"
As sudden as his mouth had pressed to hers, he'd pulled away again and was looking at her worriedly. Tonks realised that she was crying again, tears dribbling down her face.
"Yeah, I'm fine, I…I wasn't expecting this," she managed to reply.
"Neither was I," Remus admitted. He was beaming again. It was beautiful.
"God, I've missed you,"
"I know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dora," he said, gripping her shoulders to stare into her face, "Let's not waste any more time. Let's get married soon,"
"As soon as we can," she agreed.
"I'm so in love with you," he breathed, making her stomach lurch, "I'm sorry for going away. I'm sorry, I was scared and-"
She cut him off, standing up and pulling him with her as she told him, "I love you too. So much,"
She leaned up to kiss him, hurling her arms around his neck as she felt his wrap around her waist, holding each other tight. Tonks was sure that she was never going to let go of him ever again. Her fingers were gripping the back of his jacket and his lips were soft and welcoming and they were getting married. His tongue found hers and pushed against it, swirling inside her mouth. He'd said yes, he'd said yes, he wanted this with her and was finally letting himself he happy. He was going to be her husband. She was going to be a wife. His wife. Always his.
There was a sudden howl from inside the pub. The now familiar sound of Hagrid's sobs. Remus leaned away again. Oh right, Tonks remembered, they were at a funeral. Dumbledore's funeral. Five minutes ago Tonks had been in despair but now…now everything had changed. But they still shouldn't be out here snogging while inside everybody was sombre and scared. Remus' face had greyed again and he was glancing around twitchily.
She took his hand. "Shall we go back to my room and talk?".
His eyes flicked to hers and she knew that he understood what she wasn't saying: Shall we go back to my room and talk because this is the night of Albus Dumbledore's funeral and we shouldn't be thinking about tearing each other's clothes off, however much we want to. They were a "we" now.
"That sounds perfect,"
Tonks reached up to run her fingers across his cheek into hair. "We should probably tell someone that we're leaving,"
"Mundungus was loitering by the door,"
"He said he'd give me a cigarette if I didn't tell Mad-Eye he was dealing counterfeits,"
"Oh, that's why you're smoking. I did wonder," he mused, smiling slightly. They hadn't spoken like this for nearly a year; most of their interactions since he came back from Greyback's camp were awkward or arguments.
"Do I reek of fags?"
"A bit," he shrugged, grinning, "But I don't care,"
The words she'd been repeating to him all these months. Promising that she didn't care about how old he was or how it wasn't the right time or how he couldn't afford it or about what he turns into every month or how people see him because of it. And now he'd realised that he didn't care about any of that either.
They smiled at each other. Then Tonks withdrew her hand from his hair and led him back round the pub. She ducked inside for a moment and tapped Dung on the shoulder. He wheeled round and looked alarmed to see her.
"Wotcher, Dung. Oh, don't look like that, I'm not bringing Mad-Eye. Can you tell everyone I've gone home? And Remus is leaving too,"
"'lright," Dung agreed.
"Thanks. Night, Mundungus,"
Tonks headed back out into the darkness. Remus was waiting, fists shoved in pockets, although he took them out when he saw her and held his hand out. He looked so happy and Tonks felt proudly that that was down to her, to them. She took his hand and together they walked back through Hogsmeade to the rented house that Tonks and the Aurors had been staying in for the last few months. She kept steeling glances at him to find him beaming back.
"You make me laugh," he said, in a vague explanation.
"Good. I like it when you laugh,"
She looked at their joined hands, his fingers next to hers. This was crazy in the best possible way.
Savage had stayed at the Auror house for the evening instead of going to the wake, and Tonks could hear her listening to the radio in the living room. Tonks mumbled a hello and, before Savage could come into the corridor, told her that she was too tired to chat. Then she ushered Remus upstairs to her bedroom and kicked open the door.
"Immaculate, as usual," he noted, smirking as he observed the files and paper scattered over the desk and the clothes left on the floor.
She kissed him. "Shut up,"
He chuckled and hugged her. He was good at that, she remembered. His arms were secure and comfortable and home. He would always be her home.
"We're getting married," she giggled into his chest, "My husband,"
"My wife," Remus replied. He sounded so proud.
"Your old Dutch,"
"Ball and chain,"
"'Er indoors,"
They kissed again, and drifted to the bed to lie down, still talking and joking with each other. After everything that had happened he was still so easy to talk to. Fascinating and funny and fantastic, and words were interspersed with laughter and kisses and gazing at each other excitedly. Eventually Remus suggested they go to sleep (he'd expected to be going back to his cottage tonight so he didn't have pyjamas, so climbed into bed with her in his t-shirt and boxers. Tonks, remembering the not-having-sex-the-night-of-Dumbledore's-funeral thing, tried not to look) and he curled up against her in bed. He wrapped his arms round her waist and Tonks held him tight around his shoulders, stroking his hair and his back while they murmured to each other in the dark. She fell asleep in his arms, and when she woke in the morning her hair was pink.
Thanks very much for reading, and please remember to review.
