Tonks lied about her knickers. They were basic black, not red, cotton, not lace. Compared to lies she'd fed her parents, though—she was fine; she didn't owl because she was busy; she preferred the Hogs' Head to the Three Broomsticks—her lie to Remus was small and lily-white. It wasn't as if she didn't own red panties. She planned to wear them on Christmas Eve.
She didn't feel guilty for indulging in fantasy and bringing a smile to her love's face. If anything pricked her conscience, it was what she didn't say. Those issues could wait; her priority was to keep Remus safely focused on his mission.
After they said goodnight, Tonks put away the mirror and picked up one of the Christmas cards on her bedside table. The cards from family and friends were the only decorations in the room. Her mum had wanted to send an enchanted tree-in-a-box, but Tonks turned down the offer. A tree wouldn't fill her with cheer, it would remind her of Christmas pasts. Besides, there were plenty of sparkly trees to admire in village windows and up at the castle.
The hand-painted snowman on the front of Jerry's card wore a red scarf and a smile of tiny, wooden black buttons. Tonks set the card down without glancing at the message inside. She didn't need to. The line had engraved itself into her memory.
Nothing's the same without you.
"No shit," Tonks muttered. How could things be the same when they weren't partners anymore? She patrolled alone, and he—according to her best mate and fellow Auror, Julia—now trained a rookie who filled out paperwork while Jerry took the lead in questioning witnesses and suspects.
Mrs. Connelly must be thrilled and relieved that her baby boy was home once more. It was easy to picture Mrs. C in a tweed suit and pearls, ordering her husband to mind the glass ornaments as he adjusted the magicked candles to float above each branch. "Darling Jerreth" would receive praise for setting the angel atop the tree so carefully—and then she would ask him to tilt it a little to the left.
Imagining the Connellys together led to thoughts of the Tonks/March/Laurence clan. Her Muggle Gran, aunts, cousins, assorted in-laws, and family friends were gathering at Aunt Bess's for Christmas dinner. Since Tonks wouldn't be there to question, everyone would grill her parents as to when she was coming back to London and why didn't she keep in touch the way she used to. Was she working for the government? Was her assignment classified? Was she in danger?
Mum would get frosty, and Dad would smooth things over and change the subject. The cousins would look at each other and slip away to the upstairs loo to discuss the "situation." Rita, Lora, Amy, Liz, and Meg would take turns touching up their makeup and speculating about where she was and if Remus was involved.
Tonks could almost hear their voices; imagine them shouting in chorus, "find another toilet," when someone knocked on the door. It took a moment to realise that the knock she'd heard was a tap on her door.
"Nymphadora?"
In one word, her mother asked if she was all right and ordered her to open the door right now, young lady. It was an enviable talent.
Tonks rushed to obey. "Hullo, Mum." She waved her inside. "I was looking at Christmas cards.
Her mother smiled, cat-like. "How fortuitous. I come bearing Christmas cards, all ready for the post. The only thing missing is your personal greeting." She handed Tonks a stationery box and took off her green hooded cloak. "If you need festive-coloured ink, I brought gold and silver."
"I have red self-inking quills—and I'm perfectly capable of purchasing and sending my own Christmas cards."
"I didn't say you weren't capable."
"You implied—"
"That you wouldn't send cards this year without my assistance. Can you deny it?"
Tonks sent her parental know-it-all a sour look and plopped down on the bed. She opened the box of cards painted with Scottish snow scenes. "I'm just signing my name. Nothing else." She took out the first envelope. "Except to Gran," she said, looking at the address. "I'll tell her I'm stuck in a twee village, visited Loch Ness but didn't see Nessie—that's only fudging a bit, I did eat a steak in Drumnadrochit." She used an Accio to summon her quill and began to write. "It won't be a fib to say I miss her biscuits and her hugs."
"Drumnadrochit? When were you there?" her mother asked.
"Last month," Tonks replied absently.
"The fifteenth?"
"Yeah." Tonks signed her name with a flourish and sealed the envelope. The next card in the box was addressed to Aunt Daisy and Uncle Onslo. She signed, "Love, Tonks" beneath the printed holiday message and reached for the next envelope.
"Were you part of the investigation when that poor girl was drugged?"
Tonks finished jotting a short note to Lora and Gerald and set the card aside. She looked up. It was one thing not to volunteer information to someone she loved, another to lie outright. "I was the girl." She saw the dark fire in her mum's eyes and said quickly, "I wasn't molested; Jerry took care of me, called in a Healer, notified Dawlish and the MLE." Tonks drew in a breath and added, "The bastards responsible will be in Azkaban for a long, long, time, so don't even think about tracking them down and doing something Unforgiveable."
"I'm not Bellatrix. I'd never use an Unforgiveable when there are other curses to inflict pain." Tonks was swept into a tight hug. Her mum released a shaky breath. "Praise the stars you weren't harmed," she whispered. "It must have been so frightening..."
Tonks could feel her lips tremble. "I went off my head. I thought Jerry was Remus and...he misunderstood." Her throat ached too much to go on. She buried her face against her mum's shoulder and cried.
The arms around Tonks squeezed comfortingly. "I'm sorry, darling."
I'm sorry too. Sorry my life's a mess, sorry I'm dumping this on you at Christmas. She clung to her mother. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
"I tend to hold things back as well—for the good of others, of course," her mum said wryly. "Whenever I kept things from your father, he wasn't pleased when the truth came out, but he always forgave and understood."
New tears welled when Tonks felt a soft kiss on her cheek and heard, "And so will I."
Tap, tap tap.
Her dad called through the door, "Ready for a snack? I made tea."
"Sure!" Tonks answered. She lowered her voice. "Quick, hit me with a Complexion Charm. I don't want him to worry."
"Too late," her mum said as she cast the spell. "Ted can't help it. He knows what we're capable of."
Tonks hurriedly scratched her name inside a card while her mother answered the door. She was sealing the envelope when her father came in, bearing a tray. "Good timing, Dad, my hand was starting to cramp. I think the warmth of the teacup will relax my writing muscles, and the chocolate biscuits will give me energy."
"They'll taste good too," her dad said. "Mrs. McFee sent them."
He placed the tea tray on the clothes trunk while her mother conjured a couple of extra chairs. They sat in a tight semi circle. Tonks would've suggested they use her parents' room, but they were staying next door, and with the bed spell-enlarged to fit two, they had less space to entertain than she did. "This reminds me of tea parties when I was little," Tonks said.
Her dad patted his stomach. "When there was less of me to love."
"That's only because we love you more every day," her mum said with a warm smile.
Tonks blinked furiously to hold back tears. Their love for each other was what she felt for Remus. She wanted to build a life with him, create memories and a child together, but when would that happen? After the war? That could be months, years. She was tired of waiting. Why postpone happiness? Duty? Her parents hadn't let anything keep them apart. Was she going to let anything keep her from Remus?
Resolve dried her tears. Tonks even managed to smile. When her parents left the next morning, and she started to feel down, she reminded herself that she would see Remus in only a couple of more days.
On the twenty-fourth, she awoke before her alarm and jumped out of bed, eager to get a shower and be on her way. Last night, Remus had checked into a bed and breakfast in Ottery St. Catchpole, a village near the Burrow. They planned to spend the day there before he joined the Weasleys at the Burrow for dinner.
In the holiday spirit, she chose a red cashmere jumper and black denims to go with her black boots and scarlet cloak, dressing swiftly before packing clothes into a rucksack. Tonks hooked a strap over a shoulder, warded the room, and headed for the stairs. She hummed God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs as she walked through the pub on the way to the Floo.
"Auror Tonks."
Dawlish. Damn. She turned to see her boss drinking coffee and reading the paper at the bar. They were the only two people in the room. "Merry Christmas," she said. Something in his expression kept her from using the word "happy."
"Merry Christmas," he replied brusquely, in the same tone he would use to say good morning. "Proudfoot is ill."
Jerry gone, Proudfoot down, and Savage on leave: that left her and Dawlish. Tonks refused to panic. "Okay," she said. "I'll stow my gear and take the first two patrols before I check out."
Dawlish's set features relaxed into a half-smile. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. I'll change into a heavier cloak and start my rounds." She marched back upstairs and immediately contacted Remus.
He looked rumpled and sexy. "Are you downstairs in the lobby?"
"No, I can't leave until after the first two shifts. Proudfoot's lurgy."
"That's too bad," he said, "but don't worry, I'll be here waiting." He smiled wolfishly. "In great anticipation."
She couldn't help it; she had to ask, "Are you naked?"
"Yes."
Why couldn't magic mirrors expand to full length? Why? "Stay that way."
His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Yes, ma'am."
Tonks kissed the mirror, cheered at the thought of soon being able to kiss Remus in person.
Her morning was uneventful, not that she'd expected anything different. All but a few students were at home spending Christmas with their families. It wouldn't make sense for You-Know-Who to attack an empty school.
After she patrolled the village, Tonks made her rounds of the castle. She encountered no one, not even a ghost. The dead silence was eerie. It reminded her of the horror films her Gran loved so much: the ones with creatures that preyed on silly girls who wandered deserted corridors. The dungeon level was especially creepy, with torches eternally flickering and drafts trailing like icy fingers across the nape of her neck.
Creak!
She jumped when the door to one of dungeons swung open. In unison, Filch and his cat turned their heads to stare at her.
Rude gits. Tonks' Black streak flared. She told Filch, "If you're looking for mistletoe, there's a kissing ball floating in the entry." She smirked at Mrs. Norris. "Right by the suits of armour."
Yowls followed her up the stairs.
Four hours later, Tonks trailed after the rosy-cheeked proprietor of The White Witch bed and breakfast. Mrs. Comfrey led her up rose carpeted steps to a room on the top floor.
"The honeymoon suite was the only one available, but your husband said it would do nicely, and a man and wife should enjoy many honeymoons." The grandmotherly woman sighed. "Such a romantic thing to say." She sighed again. "Ah, well, here we are, have a lovely stay, Mrs. Wolfe."
"Thank you."
Tonks waited until Mrs. Comfrey bustled her way downstairs to knock on the door. If Remus answered it naked, the last thing she wanted was an audience.
He wore a white robe and drew her into his arms so fast; if Mrs. Comfrey loitered, she wouldn't have seen a thing even if he hadn't worn a stitch. Tonks hugged him back, turning her head to kiss his throat and the line of his jaw. "I missed you so much."
"I've missed you too." Remus captured her lips with his while backing into a room that was a sea of white.
Draperies, linens, paint, and furniture: everything was a shade of ivory. Tonks would've preferred all pink, but she wasn't there to critique decorating style. She nudged the door shut with her foot. "You're overdressed," she said between deliriously passionate kisses.
He chuckled. "So are you."
She immediately unfastened her cloak and let it drop. "Bet a body massage I can strip faster than you can."
Remus nuzzled her throat. "How will you manage that?"
"I learned a new spell. Watch." Tonks held out her arms and cried, "Exuo vestis!" In the blink of an eye, her clothing—including her Christmas red knickers—vanished and reappeared on a side chair. She frowned. "Why am I still wearing boots?"
"The spell was designed to remove clothing, not footwear."
"Oh. I didn't think of that." Tonks sat on the edge of the satin-covered bed and lifted a leg. "How about a little help?"
Remus untied the sash of his robe. "Right after I win a certain bet."
-
A few hours later, Remus groaned in contentment as Nymphadora's hands smoothed oil over his back. The smooth, relaxing sweeps up and down his sides caused his eyes to grow eyes heavy. He breathed in the scent of almond oil and said, "This is my idea of a happy Christmas."
"Mine too, and I'm not just saying that because I got the first massage." She kissed his cheek. "You're such a gentleman, always insisting ladies go first."
Remus closed his eyes to rest them for a moment. "It was my..."
He awoke when Nymphadora gently shook his shoulder. "I ran a bath. I figured you'd like to clean up before you visit the Weasleys." Her fingertips glided down his arm. "Take some of this shine off."
Remus eyed the clock on the fireplace mantel. "It's still early yet."
"That's why we're not taking a shower."
To show his appreciation of Nymphadora's time management skills, he bounded out of bed and carried her into the bathroom.
After a long, satisfying soak, Remus dressed while Nymphadora propped up on pillows in bed with a velvet-lined box of chocolates and a romance novel to keep her company. "It isn't too late to change your mind," he said. "The children would love to see you."
"I'd love to see them, but Molly wouldn't like me holding your hand and shocking impressionable children, so it's best I don't."
Remus gave up trying to persuade and kissed her. "Save me a few chocolates."
-
The memory of a cheeky-sweet smile kept Remus from envying all the warm looks that passed between couples throughout dinner. He listened to the conversations and watched Harry smile over one of Fred and George's stories, feeling grateful to be included and wistful because Nymphadora was not. In the lounge afterwards, he settled into a chair beside the fire and stared into the flames.
Harry's mention of Severus broke Remus' self-preoccupation. He caught the edge in the boy's tone and reminded Harry that Dumbledore trusted Severus. That should be enough to do likewise. It wasn't a matter of like or dislike, it was the man's actions that counted. If Harry relayed his suspicions, he might very well learn Dumbledore ordered Severus to question Draco.
The expression on Harry's face said he wasn't convinced, but he changed the subject—to the one Remus least wished to discuss: his mission. There was no way to sum up the complex dynamics of the packs, to condense the differences and hardships each faced into a few sentences. He tried and ended up sounding like a bitter professor, which, sadly, perhaps he was.
Remus made the mistake of mentioning Greyback. He clenched his fists to remain composed as he explained the twisted reasoning behind the monster's targeting of children, and that when Greyback attacked him; it was an act of revenge against his father.
The sympathy in Harry's eyes was so like Lily. His insistence that Remus was normal and just had "a problem," however, was pure James.
Remus had to laugh. As he told Harry how much he resembled James, he could almost hear the voices of his friends.
Sirius' was laughing. "Dorcas invited us—meaning you, Moony—to study for NEWTs in the library after dinner. I told her you—meaning we—regretfully had a prior engagement."
"Engaged? Somebody's engaged? Who?" Peter asked.
"Engagement as in commitment, not marriage, worm-brain," Sirius shot back.
"Not that marriage isn't a commitment," James said, placating.
Sirius snorted. "And one you dream of making as soon as you can convince Lily to shove a ring on her finger. We know, Prongs, we know. Don't start. We have more pressing—and entertaining—matters to discuss."
James chuckled. "Moony's furry little problem."
"Not his problem. Ours!" Sirius said. "We haven't decided on the night's adventure!"
Arthur came by, a tray of eggnog in hand. Remus thanked him and took a glass.
When Arthur moved to offer a nightcap to Bill and Fleur, Harry leaned forward and asked if Remus had ever heard of the Half-Blood Prince.
Remus hadn't. His joke about Harry adding it to his titles didn't go over well, and neither did his attempt to indirectly reassure Harry that whoever wrote spells in his old Potions book wasn't James. He ended up saying straight out that it wasn't James, Sirius, or himself.
Harry looked so discouraged by the news that Remus suggested he check the date of the book to see when the self-titled Prince was at Hogwarts.
A few moments later, Fleur's eggnog-fuelled imitation of Celestina Warbrek acted as everyone's cue to go upstairs to bed. The younger children practically bolted from the room, followed almost as quickly by Bill and his giggling fiancée.
Fred—by the letter on his jumper—said, "We'll show you to your room, professor."
Remus turned to Molly.
She reddened a little. "I knew Harry wanted you here. It was no trouble."
"Yeah, she put Bill in with us, so you have his room all to yourself," George said.
Arthur cleared his throat. "I'll show Remus up when the time comes, boys. You go on to bed."
The twins exchanged a look.
"Yes, Dad," said Fred.
"Anything for Father Christmas," said George.
"Why do I get the feeling those boys are planning mischief?" Molly said after the twins strolled out of the room.
Arthur paused in collecting empty glasses. "You're a mother."
"Why do I get the feeling you're using me to keep Fleur from wandering the corridors at night?" Remus asked Molly.
Her eyes sparkled impishly. "I told the boys you were arriving tonight, not that you'd be sleeping here." She picked up a glass and set it on Arthur's tray. "Breakfast is at eight."
Remus no longer wondered where the twins got their devious streak. He bid Arthur and Molly a good night. Outside, the moon was luminous and round. It would be full in two days. He shrugged. Better Boxing Day than Christmas.
In one of the upper windows, three candles flared to life. Remus' sharp eyesight distinguished three shadowy figures peering through the glass.
It could have been a scene from the past transported to the present.
I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.
Remus grinned and Apparated.
-
Nymphadora was asleep when he returned, the box of chocolate and book stacked on the bedside table. She had kicked off the covers. In the firelight, her "Christmas knickers" were deep red against porcelain skin. As he disrobed, Remus took in changes he hadn't fully noticed before.
She was much thinner. Her runner's body remained toned and fit, but her collarbones and pelvic bones jutted out. Delicate wrists and fingers now looked fragile.
He eased onto the bed, trying not to wake her.
Nymphadora's eyes fluttered open. "Is it Christmas yet?"
"Near enough. Would you like to open presents?"
She snuggled into his arms. "This is my present, spending time with you." Her eyelids started to close.
"I've missed holding you," he said. "This is a gift to me."
"Mmm," she said. "You feel so good."
"Is there anything special you'd like to talk about?" he asked. What's going on in your life? Why don't you mention Jerry anymore? Did something happen?
"No. I want to hear how you spent Christmas when you were little," she said sleepily. "What it always just you and your parents?"
"Sometimes." Remus accepted that he'd have to wait to find out what was going on in Hogsmeade. He kissed her brow. "Other years, the friends my mother considered adopted family crowded around our table."
"And all the adults spoilt you terribly."
He chuckled, remembering. "Yes, they did."
"I'm glad," she said around a yawn. "You deserve special treatment."
Remus watched Nymphadora drift off to sleep and whispered, "So do you."
They awoke early the next morning to exchange presents before Nymphadora had to leave. Her face lit up to see the Weird Sisters jacket he'd found at a second-hand shop, and he was impressed with his gift.
"Latin Limericks," he said with a smile. "Are they bawdy?"
"Not the first one," she said. "Ironically, the earliest application of the limerick metre was a thirteenth century prayer to resist all limericks came to stand for—or so it said in the book."
"I'll read it and think of you."
Nymphadora widened her eyes. "The prayer?"
"The bawdy ones."
"Thank Merlin!" She threw herself into his arms.
-
During Christmas dinner, Remus spooned parsnips onto his plate, thinking that if Nymphadora had been there, she would have smirked at him for accepting a dish he wasn't particularly fond of to be polite. His ears pricked when Fleur said "Tonks." He almost dropped the bowl when Molly said she'd invited "dear Tonks," and asked Remus if he'd spoken to her lately.
The dictionary definition of lately was the recent past. Put on the spot, Remus pulled a Sirius and considered recent to mean in the last two hours. "No," he said, hedging the truth, "I haven't been in contact with anybody very much." In order to keep to the Adult Conspiracy agreement he'd made with Molly back in Grimmauld Place, he added, as if he didn't know where she was or how she would spend the day, "But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"
"Hmmm," said Molly. "Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."
Remus returned her look of irritation. What was she driving at? Had Molly changed her mind about adults keeping romantic lives private where the children were concerned? He stabbed a slice of turkey with unnecessary force. He would have appreciated advanced notice!
"Tonks' Patronus has changed its form," Harry announced out of the blue.
The turkey in Remus' mouth turned to sawdust. He took his time chewing and swallowing in order to say unemotionally, "Sometimes...a great shock...an emotional upheaval..."
"It looked big, and it had four legs."
Harry definitely had his father's unending curiosity and determination to ferret out secrets. Remus would have preferred the boy take after his mother. Lily always waited for people to confide in her.
"Hey," Harry said, in a tone of discovery. "It couldn't be—?"
Remus never heard what Harry thought Nymphadora's new Patronus was. Molly cried out, "Arthur!" and everyone's attention became riveted on the window and the two men approaching the house.
Percy Weasley had come home for Christmas, and he had brought along a guest.
Rufus Scrimgeour.
-
A/N: I did my best not to make it a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas, but some angst couldn't be helped. I also tried hard not to use too many direct quotes from the HBP Christmas chapter while I showed the scenes from Remus' point of view. I went with canon in describing the events, although I discovered a "furry little problem" of my own: In 1996, the December full moon rose on Christmas Eve. I went with my conviction that JKR intended the series to be timeless, not dated, and numbering the candles on Nick's deathday cake was a Flint, or a Fudge-up, so it would be fine to push the full moon back to Boxing Day. :D
For readers who haven't read the previous story, the Adult Conspiracy (named by Tonks, using a term created by Muggle author Piers Anthony in his series about a mythical land that includes adults who "conspire" to keep children ignorant about sex) was Molly's way of ensuring "impressionable children" not be exposed to the romantic lives of Order members. If she was hoping to keep them from wanting romances of their own, she failed!
The readers whose reviews of the last chapter never failed to make me smile were:40/16, alix33, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, ElspethBates, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, ishandtwofourths, Kates Master, Lady Adrienne Faery, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Operamuse, potteronpotluvhim, Rose of the West, Siriusblack18, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, vintagejgc, and Ziroana.