-
"You!" Tonks and Kreacher said in unison.
Kreacher sounded incredulous. Tonks was angry: mostly with herself. Why had she stopped the elves? Kreacher deserved to have everything he cherished stripped away—just like Cami. Her eyes widened when she saw the dingy tea towel start to slide. She took that back. He could keep the towel. "Oi! Tie a knot or something! I don't want to see your Toujours Pur tattoo!"
The hair in Kreacher's ears seemed to quiver with indignation. "I have no such tattoo!"
He secured his towel with an air of wounded dignity. Tonks' lip curled. "Oh, did you go for the heart with Walburga in it? How sweet."
Kreacher stared at her, unblinking.
Her Black streak flared. "What's the matter? Embarrassed? Or do you feel guilty, because Mrs. Black's not the love of your life anymore?"
That got a reaction, but not the one she expected. His head jerked back. The tips of his ears turned red.
Tonks was the one staring now. "My gods, it's true!" The highlight of Cami's day was reliving moments with Sirius in the Penseive while Kreacher had moved on. It wasn't fair. Something dark and bitter slithered up from the depths of her soul. She leaned down. "Hard to cling to a memory, isn't it?" she whispered. "You try, but you just can't help wanting something real, something you can touch."
Kreacher remained silent.
She grabbed his arm. "D'you think Bellatrix is going to give you what you want? She won't. Harry Potter's your master now, and he'll never let you near her. Never!" Infuriated by Kreacher's goggle-eyed stare, she shook him.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Tonks froze. Dragon dung! It was Snape. She dropped Kreacher's arm.
The elf looked past her, bowing slightly. "How is Kreacher to serve you, Professor?"
Snape's footsteps didn't echo in the vast stone chamber. He seemed to glide forward. "The Slytherin house-elf came to me in great distress." Fathomless eyes flickered from woman to elf. "I require a coherent explanation. What transpired here?"
"I came in for a snack and found the kitchen elves grouped in a circle, chanting "take his towel." I told them to stand back. They left," said Tonks.
"Is that all?" Snape looked directly at Kreacher.
The elf began picking at a loose thread on the hem of his towel. "Yes, Professor," he said, head bent to concentrate on snapping off the thread with his fingernails.
"Really?" Snape said silkily. "Then explain the scene I witnessed a few moments ago."
Kreacher's watery blue eyes shot to Tonks.
She said the first thing that came to mind. "Assertiveness Training."
Snape made a "humph" sound of either disbelief or amusement. Tonks was still trying to decide which when he said, "And I interrupted? How remiss. Pray continue." He made no move to leave.
Kreacher stood with a faint smile on his face. Did he think that she was going to start babbling the true story of what happened? She wasn't.
"All right," Tonks said, trying to project a professional tone. Her only familiarity with Assertiveness Training came from a self-help book. Evan, her ex-fiancé, had been a Slytherin used to always getting his way. She had fallen into a Hufflepuff habit of giving in because she loved him. The book hadn't been much help, because Evan had been happy with his dominant position in the relationship. He didn't want to change. Her happiness had come later, when she no longer wore his ring. She remembered the concepts well enough to say, "Kreacher, do you realise that you have allowed others to dominate you?"
"Yes."
And you like it, don't you? Twisted little squit. Tonks took a calming breath. "Do you acknowledge your feelings of anger?"
"No."
She threw him a steely look. He wasn't taking his cue. She tried again. "You have to admit your feelings of anger before you can decide to stop passive-oriented behaviour and act on that decision."
"I am not angry." Kreacher's tone became gloating. "You are the one who is angry."
Damn right she was! She had stopped the other elves from taking his towel. What did he do in return? Make her look like an idiot. Tonks counted to ten, and had to count over again.
"I take it that the...training session...is over?"
Snape's dry tone was the last straw. Tonks snapped, "Yes, it is," and stalked toward the door.
She was halfway down the main corridor when she heard, "Auror Tonks."
Hand on hip, she faced Snape. "Yeah?"
He raised an eyebrow.
Tonks crossed her arms. "I mean, yes, sir?"
Snape said, "With elves like Kreacher, passivity is too deeply ingrained. Contentment is only found through servitude."
Did he think she cared whether or not Kreacher grew a spine and asserted himself? Tonks said, "Then he'll be miserable at Hogwarts."
"Will he?"
"Without a Mistress to act the submissive wretch for? Absolutely." The thought was deeply satisfying.
"Kreacher hides his misery well," said Snape, stepping past her.
In a detached manner, Tonks noted that his robes billowed like bat wings. Maybe it wasn't just due to special tailoring. "Are we still on for tonight?" she called after him. Immediately, she qualified, "For tutoring?" Not that there was anyone around to get the wrong idea, but still. Who knew when there was a ghost eavesdropping? She cringed at the thought of Moaning Myrtle or one of the other gossips spreading what they thought was a juicy story.
"Nine o'clock," he said without breaking stride. "Bring silver and obsidian knives."
The implication that he didn't trust her to treat his knives properly barely registered. Tonks was too busy trying to deny the images flashing in her mind. Kreacher, glassy-eyed, transfixed by her anger...Kreacher's fingers rubbing the spot where she'd grabbed his arm, practically caressing the skin while he said, "I am not angry."
"No," she said. "I'm not Walburga. I'm not Bellatrix. I'm not like them." Her voice belied the words: weak and despairing. She had acted out of rage. If Snape hadn't entered the kitchen, she would have shaken Kreacher like a rag doll.
And enjoyed it, wouldn't you?
It was horribly easy to imagine Bellatrix laughing, to remember her jeers in the Death Chamber. I hear you're more a Black than your blood-traitor cousin, wittle Tonksie.
Tonks was glad that she hadn't eaten. She would have vomited. Before she could reconsider, she yelled, "Kreacher!"
In the blink of an eye, he stood in front of her.
She looked at his arm. There were no marks in the shape of fingers.
The old elf stood straighter. "Elves do not bruise so easily as humans."
The matter-of-fact words brought tears to her eyes. "I'm never going to forgive you for betraying Sirius," she said, "but I had no right to hurt you. I'm sorry."
As soon as the words were said, she ran: away from Kreacher, away from the castle, away from emotions that caused her to cry and made her want to scream. Once past the iron gates to the school, she could have Apparated. Instead, Tonks kept running.
-
After Nymphadora left, Remus went upstairs. It was still hard to believe that he had agreed to teach Will magic. The idea was overwhelming, and daunting as well. He didn't know if he was up to the task. It was one thing to follow a curriculum and implement lesson plans at Hogwarts. This was an entirely different situation. He couldn't work out lesson plans for his unusual student until he devised a course of study.
By rote, he picked up discarded clothing and made the bed. Beneath his pillow was a packet. The handwriting on the note inside was bold and feminine.
I know you prefer to support small, wizard-run shops, but with prices rising due to the war and two (or three!) to feed on a limited budget, please consider shopping Muggle butchers and greengrocers. The carry bag is from a second-hand shop. Although it's a bit old and shabby, the Capacious and Feather-light Charms were cast by Elmira Gulch, who later wrote Practical Household Magic. Mum says she's brilliant.
Remus smiled over Nymphadora's oblique way of saying she hadn't read the book. He didn't think less of her. He hadn't read the book either.
He reached into the packet and unfolded the canvas carry bag. Its original colour had turned dingy gray. The canvas showed signs of wear. Remus didn't mind. He was rather gray and shabby himself. It had long handles and spells that would allow him to make several purchases before returning to the flat. He appreciated the gift.
The material made a crackling sound when he patted it. Remus stuck a hand inside the bag. He pulled out a wad of Muggle currency wrapped inside another note.
It's impossible to buy from Muggle shops without Muggle money. The exchange rate is favourable at Gringotts, if that makes any difference, and I saved Galleons by shrinking and delivering this myself instead of sending it via the Owl Post. I would've given you more if I thought you would accept it. Please don't be angry. I love you.
Remus gazed at her signature for several minutes, grappling with his pride. Nymphadora was well aware that he would rather do without than ask for assistance.
He was used to deprivation. The Ministry incapacity benefit for werewolves was doled out monthly. Whenever he was between jobs, Remus had to spend carefully to make the stipend last. Due to the unexpected expense of feeding Will, his funds were all but spent.
There were still two weeks of July remaining.
With less than a week until the full moon, every werewolf would start craving red meat. Dix provided an occasional beer, but Remus doubted he supplied his pack with steak. A great deal of self control was needed to deny cravings. Will likely planned to resort to theft.
Please don't be angry.
Nymphadora had acted out of love. He couldn't be angry, or let pride stop him from using the money.
Downstairs, Will was sprawled on the sofa, laughing over an article in The Quibbler. The boy grinned when he saw the carry bag in Remus' hand. "Going shopping? Ace. There's nothing but tinned beans in the cupboard."
"Where did you get the paper?" asked Remus.
"Lillie nicked it from her mum. Why?"
"We'll return it on our way."
Will shot him a wary glance. "On our way where?"
"Shopping." Remus opened the front door.
"I'm not going shopping."
Remus walked outside. "You will if you want to eat."
Will followed, slamming and locking the door. "What the hell do you want from me, Lupin?"
"I want you to have an appreciation for the food you eat, and to realise exactly how much it costs." He ignored Will's disgruntled muttering. "First, we will return the paper to Mrs. Bowen."
"We? I'm the one holding it."
Will led the way toward a flat at the opposite end of the row from theirs. The ground floor windows were open. Voices carried.
"You should have seen them," said Lillie. "She was all over him and he loved it. He couldn't keep his hands off her."
"Shut up!"
Remus felt sorry for Delia. She must still care for her ex husband for her daughter's taunt to be so upsetting. He knocked on the door and stepped back a few paces, gesturing to Will to step up.
Lillie answered the door. "Hi! I didn't expect to see you so soon."
"Here's your mother's paper."
Delia shouldered her daughter aside to snatch the tabloid. "How did you get my Quibbler? Did you steal it?"
"No! I, erm, borrowed it earlier and wanted to return it." Will ran a hand over his hair as though to make it more presentable. "We're going shopping," he said, when Delia made no comment. "May, uh, we get you anything?"
Lillie leaned over her mother's shoulder. "She'll invite you to dinner if you bring her a couple of steaks."
"Really?" said Will.
"Depends on the steaks," said Delia. She told her daughter, "Aren't you going to be late for work?"
Lillie kissed her mother's cheek before kissing Will firmly on the lips. "I'll be home by six. I'll pick up dessert. You bring the steak." She Apparated.
Delia shut the door.
Will looked at Remus. "Can you afford steaks?"
"If we shop at a Muggle butcher shop."
"Muggle?"
"Yes, Muggle, if you want to eat beef instead of tinned beans on toast."
Will jerked his head toward the open window. "All right, but don't tell you-know-who."
"You-Know-Who has more pressing concerns than our shopping habits," said Remus.
Will gave a bark of laughter. "Yeah, right. Don't tell him, either."
Remus smiled. "Believe me, I won't."
-
A/N: Blame MollyCoddles for any scarring mental images of Kreacher's tattoo. She sent me an icon with Dobby flashing a Phoenix tattoo that gave me the idea. :D As for Assertiveness Training, it came out of Tonks' mouth while I was writing the scene, so I went to mental help net to look up the details. Not everyone who uses the techniques is in an abusive relationship. Tonks was certainly never abused by Evan—who may yet make a cameo. If anyone noticed that the chapter was shorter than usual, it's because I've had a hectic week, which included breaking my pinky toe playing a version of 'ghost in the graveyard.' (You play in the dark, everyone but the 'ghost' hides, when the ghost comes near, you run for it, screaming bloody murder (another name for the game, coincidentally, heh).
Thanks to everyone who R&R'd Baby Mine last week, and to those who reviewed this story...40/16, alix33, Calenmarwen, Enorance, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, Ioci, Irin Black, ishandtwofourths, Jeland, Ladyofthebookworms, lbf1412, Machiavelli Jr, MollyCoddles, Moontime, n1264, Operamuse, potteronpotluvhim, RahNee, remus R us, siriuslycoco, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, UnderworldBabe, your nightmare and Ziroana.