This chapter is set on Lupin's last birthday, 10th March 1998. I really liked this one when I first wrote it, but now I'm not sure it's turned out how I wanted it to. Let me know what you think.
Birthday Boy
She slept better now that her father was dead. In the months when Dad was on the run, Tonks had tossed and turned all night, worrying. Mum would do the same in bed beside her and they'd lie in the dark, sometimes in silence, sometimes whispering words of fear and comfort to each other. It didn't help that Spudge grew and got fidgety over the Winter, and would hammer its feet and fists against Tonks' stomach from the inside. The kid was still at it now, but Tonks was sleeping better than she had in weeks. Wherever Dad was now, he wasn't being chased and hunted. He wasn't hurt.
The first thought she woke that morning was that it was Remus' birthday. He hadn't wanted a fuss because he never did, but she was determined to spoil him at least a little. She'd even persuaded Mum to buy him a present. Tonks rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed, trying not to knock into her mother- this took longer and was more difficult these days because use was so flipping huge- and crept past the past the bedside table, the wardrobe, and the photographs smiling at her from the wall. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Her old bedroom was at the end, just left of the boiler room. She creaked open the bedroom door and snuck inside. The walls were a brown-y beige this morning. Remus was asleep on his side with his face burrowed into the pillow. Tonks loved watching him sleep. He was so different. Awake Remus was controlled, still and always put other people first despite any discomfort to himself. Asleep Remus was soft, wriggly and groaned if you took too much duvet. She missed that.
Taking care not to yank it off him, Tonks lifted up the blanket, slipped underneath it and snuggled up next to her husband. She ran a finger down Remus' face, feeling the beads of stubble on the surface, then up into his hair.
Something was brushing against Remus' fringe. His eyes flickered open, to see his wife smiling sleepily while she ran her fingers through his curls.
"Wotcher, birthday boy,"
Ah, yes. His birthday. This was the first one they'd been together for, and no doubt Dora had cooked up a daft surprise which he'd pretend not be embarrassed by.
"Hello," he muttered.
She shuffled closer into his arms and whispered, "Happy birthday," before kissing his lips gently, and then again, and a third time more lingeringly. He didn't usually have this time with her, because Tonks had been sleeping in bed with her mother since Ted left. She and Remus only went back to her flat on the nights around the full moon- and on those mornings canoodling in bed wasn't on the cards. Ironic, then, that not sharing a bed with his wife much anymore had coincided with Remus finding her more attractive than ever. Since the bump started showing in December she'd looked so beautiful; ripe and healthy and swollen with their child. Remus wanted to touch her all the time, which was difficult because her breasts were sore and her stomach was heavy and she'd gone off sex. For ages Dora was frustrated but patient with him while he felt guilty and acted awkward when it came to intimacy. Now he was more keen and confident, but Tonks wasn't in the mood, or was too tired, or didn't want to be touched. Remus kept dreaming about making love to her, and a few months ago he would have felt disgusted at himself having those dreams in the bed she slept in when she was a child. Now he just chuckled, shrugged and thanked Merlin that Andromeda wasn't a legilimens.
Well, that was how things had been until a fortnight ago, until they'd got the letter telling them that Ted had been killed. Now their touching was mostly him holding Tonks when she cried, squeezing her hand, murmuring into her hair how sorry he was. They hadn't kissed like this in weeks.
Remus felt her peal her face away from his. "You're thinking about something," she accused.
They agreed months ago, after he went away and came back, to always be honest with each other, but since Ted died it was a balance between honesty and preserving moments of happiness.
"I'm reflecting on the wisdom I've garnered in my thirty-eight years," he said. Thirty-eight. God.
"Any you'd like to share with me?" Dora asked, batting her eyelashes. Her hair changed colour in the night and this morning was dark red.
"Umm…don't stand too near a chip-pan. Use a Muggle Biro not a Quill when forging signatures. Never trust a man whose name means faeces,"
It occurred to him that he shouldn't have mentioned Mundungus, but Tonks was looking at him with that soft expression he hadn't seen in her eyes since Ted died, and the mention of the man who'd betrayed Mad-Eye didn't seem to have registered.
"What?" Remus smiled.
She ran a hand through his hair again. "My gorgeous husband," she said, and stamped another kiss on his forehead.
"Spudge says happy birthday, too," she added. It was the most Dora thing to give a nickname to their unborn baby. She'd been calling the child "Spudge" while they decided on a name. There was one which, if it was a boy, Remus had been thinking of the past few days, but he didn't know how to bring it up, or if Andromeda would be alright with it, or Dora as well for that matter.
"Thanks, Spudge,"
Remus always felt vaguely ridiculous using the nickname, but he leant down to kiss her stomach.
"Are you gonna give Daddy a birthday kick?" Tonks asked. Remus rested his head against the swell. No movement.
"I think it's asleep," he decided.
"Typical," Tonks huffed, "It's been jerking around all night and the second you're here it decides to go to sleep,"
She often claimed that the baby calmed around him.
"But if it is," she continued, skimming her lips over the corner of his eye and reaching down to fiddle with the knot on his pyjama bottoms, "That gives me time to wake you up properly on your birthday..."
Remus' pulse leapt, but he couldn't help but blurt, "You don't have to,"
They hadn't been intimate for ages, since before Ted died. He didn't want her to think she had to do anything for him just because it was his birthday.
"I know," she shrugged. Her fingers drifted back up and found his wrist, where she began to stroke tiny circles.
"Are you sure?" he added.
"Oh, come on. We've gone months without you dropping the AYS-bomb," she groaned, laughing. For ages it was his favourite question, not just about sex but going to dinner, holding hands, telling anybody about the fact that they were seeing each other. She threatened a few times to get him an Are You Sure swear jar. Every time she'd look him in the eye and tell him that she was, and she did the same now.
"Yeah, I'm sure,"
"Well," he mumbled, and she was kissing his chest and running the back of her hand over his stomach, gently, just the way he liked, "If you really insist...".
Andromeda sat bolt upright. The bed beside her was empty. Nymphadora must be up, which was unusual as she normally slept late these days. Andromeda remembered that; the frustrating sluggishness of pregnancy. When Nymphadora had got up in the morning Andromeda could usually hear here crashing around, so the quiet set her on edge immediately. Where was she? What had happened? Andromeda grabbed her wand. What if something had happened to the baby and Nymphadora had to rush to hospital? What if Snatchers were here, come for the wife now they'd killed her husband? Had the Ministry come to take the werewolf away? Remus- oh gosh, it was his birthday, Andromeda remembered. Nymphadora had been chattering about it for days. Dromeda forced herself to breathe. Nymphadora would have gone nextdoor to see him. Yes, that'd be it. Andromeda slid out of bed, gripping her wand tightly, walked past the bedside table, the wardrobe and the photographs smiling at her from the wall. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor towards Nymphadora's room. Sometimes the thought of a werewolf in her little girl's bed made Dromeda's skin crawl. She'd got to know Remus Lupin well over the last few months, and Nymphadora was right all along that he wasn't what is affliction suggested. He was polite, patient and reserved. Andromeda didn't think she'd once heard him raise his voice. He was articulate, well-read and sometimes unexpectedly funny. He danced with Andromeda beside the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, and he was more interested in her job than Nymphadora had ever been. When they received the news about Ted, he gripped Dromeda tightly while she howled into his shoulder. Then he put the kettle on and set about writing letters to everybody who needed to know. When Andromeda looked back on it, his authority and calmness were astonishing. She couldn't admit to anyone that in spite of all of this, sometimes she shuddered to think about what he turned into and what others like him had done.
Andromeda reached the bedroom door. She could hear Remus talking and- thank Merlin- Nymphadora replied. Andromeda gasped out a deep sigh of relief. She couldn't tell what her daughter was saying, but it was definitely her voice, and she didn't sound panicked or scared. Remus said something back in his hoarse Welsh lilt. They were safe, both of them and the baby. Nymphadora was nearly eight months gone now. Dromeda had been looking forward to her grandchild being born, although since Ted died grief and paranoia had strangled excitement. Andromeda squeezed her eyes shut and leant back against the wall.
Her mouth was warm and wet and welcome. He came quickly and hard, gasping louder than usual, drawing out her name for a few long, pleasurable seconds. For a moment after, everything was still and quiet, and then Dora was kissing back up to his hips. His hand was fisted in her hair and his breath was ragged. She'd always been good at this.
When Tonks' face appeared at his shoulder, she wiped her mouth on her pyjama sleeve, winked, pecked his jaw, then turned around so that he could spoon up against her. They always used to sleep the other way around; his back against her front, her arms clasped around his shoulders. Now it was him who held her, and yes it was because that was the easiest position now she was so big, but he liked to think that it represented something else about much better a partner he'd become. How he understood now that protecting her and the child meant keeping them close, not pushing her away. Perhaps it showed that he didn't need her to protect him from himself any longer.
Remus nuzzled his face into Tonks' neck and stretched an arm round to stroke her stomach. She closed her eyes, enjoying the pressure of her baby on one side and her husband on the other. Remus was still getting his breath back, and it was good to know that she had that effect on him, that they could still do this. Although that wasn't hugely surprising, since nowadays she could sometimes feel him watching her with un-Remus-ly blatant lust. Merlin knew why, now she was the size of a boat and went through about fourteen different moods per second. Although Tonks wasn't sure if that was pregnancy or grief. So much of the last few months had been frightening or exciting, but now she felt so calm.
"Can we stay like this all day?" she murmured, running her fingers down his arm to play with his fingers.
"Don't ask me, it's you two who fidget,"
"Spudge fidgets. I'm just on the receiving end of it,"
Instead of replying Remus dolloped a long, wet kiss to the back of her neck, then another, then burrowed his face into Tonks' hair. He was quiet for a few minutes and she thought he was drifting back to sleep, until he said unexpectedly, "Tonks?"
"Mmm?"
"I've been thinking,"
"Mmm?"
"Can Harry be godfather?"
Oh. That was left of field. Tonks hadn't given any consideration to the subject, especially not given the last couple of weeks. She didn't know what to say. She turned over to face him, which took five times as long as it should have done. Remus chuckled and wriggled backwards to give the bump room.
"I think it'd mean a lot to him. It'd mean a lot to me," he explained, slightly sheepishly.
"Um, alright,"
"Did you have anybody else in mind?" he asked. Tonks got the sense that he was preparing to back-pedal if he needed to. Her hand found his again so she could keep fiddling with his fingers.
"Hadn't really thought about it,"
"I don't know when we're going to see him again, but I know we will and I want to give him some good news. He'd be a good godfather, don't you reckon? And," Remus continued, eyes flicking around the room again before meeting hers, "I owe him a thank-you for making me come home,"
Tonks wanted to tell him that he didn't owe anybody anything. And that it had been his own decision to come home, nobody else's. Remus' choice, Remus' baby. And, she supposed, Remus' choice about the baby's godfather.
"Okay, then. Harry Potter for godfather," she agreed, and grinned at him. It sounded nice. And he was right that it would be nice for Harry, and more importantly for their child. Harry was brave and wise and perhaps he would lend their baby his Firebolt when it was older?
Remus did that wobbly smile he always did when he felt touched about something. He rolled onto his back, took her hand and squeezed it.
"Do you know," said Tonks, watching him, "I reckon that's the quickest it's ever taken for you and me to agree on something, ever."
She should have gone back to bed the second she realised what was going on in there. There were certain things that a mother-in-law should not hear. But instead of going back to bed Andromeda had frozen, trying not to listen but within earshot, feeling hatred for her daughter swell inside herself. And now the pair of them were back to talking and giggling, and that only made Dromeda's loathing grow. Because Nymphadora had her husband lying warm beside her, and Andromeda's husband was cold in the ground. On the ground probably, since Snatchers were unlikely to bury their victims. He probably didn't even look like Ted anymore. He'd be filthy, muddy, bloody, rotting. His face would barely be recognisable. Andromeda had never been afraid of facing the truth so she didn't push those thoughts away. Better to accept the facts than to shove them to the back of their mind, where they'd only re-appear in her nightmares. Better to not to deny the corrosive hatred she was feeling towards her own child. Andromeda wanted to hammer on the door and scream at them. Screech at Nymphadora for being so happy. She wanted to rage at Ted for leaving her. Most of all, she wanted to rant and spit and kick and burn the people who killed him, the Dark Lord and Bella and everybody else in their side, every damn person Mother and Father had invited round when she was a child who flippantly believed in purebood supremacy, every person who talked about "Mudbloods" or "blood traitors" or "purity". Because every single one of those people were the reason Andromeda was standing in an empty corridor on a cold Spring morning, hating her daughter and the child growing inside her.
But Andromeda Tonks did not scream. She walked back towards her bedroom, shut the door behind her, sat down on the bed, and wept.
