4. Dawn

There are questions you almost never ask in the light of day; they demand the mysterious silence of nighttime, the limbo between dream and reality. She opens her eyes a short while before dawn; the windows are deep gray squares in the darkness, shot with the flashing fingers of passing car headlights.

She raises her head and feels his fingers smooth her tousled hair. His voice is a warm whisper against her cheek.

"Have you ever tried to change into an animal?"

She props up on one elbow and stares at him. His eyes are shimmering faintly, and she can feel his steady heartbeat under her hand.

"Have you?"

Slowly she shakes her head. "No, never," she says quietly. "And I know of only two Metamorphmagi who ever took the form of an animal. One of them, Aurora Bloom, lived in the early seventeenth century and turned into a sheep… a whimsy, I guess, but she was well-known as a rather eccentric old lady. They found her three days later, seemingly torn by a wolf."

The last sentence of the old, all too familiar story slips out before she can hinder it. For a second, the heartbeat beyond her fingers falters, then it returns to its measured rhythm.

"No werewolf, I suppose." His calm tone is reassuring, but still she swallows, cold with horror about her own thoughtlessness.

"No, it was a sheep-dog turned wild," she finally manages, voice still a little shaky. "In fact, it was her son's own sheep-dog… Ambrose Bloom, his name was. The poor man never really recovered from the shock."

"And the second one?"

"A descendant of Aurora Bloom, Ambrose's granddaughter Araminta. She didn't make the same mistake as Lady Aurora. She took the form of an eagle several times and seemingly had no problems finding her way back to her human shape. Araminta got very old, but in her last years she got involved in an ongoing dispute about a piece of land with her closest neighbor, obviously a minor squire and relative to the Malfoys… from a far-away branch of the family tree, I suppose, for the sources are rather vague when it comes to that particular detail."

Remus sits up in the bed, and the very next second the candles in the holder on the night stand are burning. It is a small gesture with splayed fingers and no wand at all, an ability that has never failed to astonish her, from the very first time she saw him do it. Warm, golden brightness spreads over the quilt and his naked chest.

"What happened then?"

"One spring morning she had breakfast with her son and then left the house for a walk. Half an hour later people saw a big eagle circling over the village and then sailing away over the treetops of the nearby woods. She didn't come home that day, but the next midday her son's gamekeeper found her dead in a clearing, every bone smashed as if she had fallen from great height. There was an arrow protruding from her chest."

His eyes are quiet and thoughtful, with a spark of dark irony.

"Aha. So the minor Malfoy-squire decided to get rid of his annoying opponent by using a bow?"

"Seemingly, yes." A small grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Though it could as easily have been a member of the Black-dynasty, there were enough pure-blood marriages between both families after all. I wouldn't be surprised… Sirius was the white sheep of the family, wasn't he?"

"True." His gaze strays away, and for a staggering moment that fateful afternoon in the Ministry of Magic rises between them like a wall. Screams, green bolts of light hissing over her head, and then the merciless face of her aunt swimming into her vision… seconds before a sharp, fast flick of Bellatrix' wand sends her, first into howling pain, and then into oblivion.

Tonks shudders, and with a swift, flowing movement he leans in to pull her close.

"Don't think of it," he murmurs into her hair. "We both have many things to put behind us; if we don't, our dreams may remain dark for the rest of our lives." His lips touch her brow. "And tonight I want them to be as bright as possible."

She buries her face against his chest, instinctively searching for the reassuring rhythm of his heart; she is not able to return the smile she can hear in his voice. After a silence he speaks again.

"What was Lady Aurora's mistake?"

She frowns. "Lady Aurora's… oh. She… you know, she turned into prey." She hesitates, not entirely sure how to explain something that seems strange enough even to her. "If… if you turn into an animal further down the food chain, you risk being eaten… especially if you don't manage to keep the connection to the place deeply within you that always stays human. For a Metamorphmagus, turning into someone else is like a waterfall of images running through your mind and soul like a maelstrom. It can get overwhelming, even dangerous if you're not used to it… or frightened."

"I see." His sigh stirs her hair and he falls silent again. Tonks is not willing to leave it at that, though. Now it is her turn to ask one of the questions never meant to be asked in the light of day.

"Two weeks more and we will have a full moon," she says, her voice clear and thin. "Will you let me stay with you?"

The body in her arms goes rigid, but his heart doesn't miss a beat – as if he had been waiting for this question quite some time, and already steeled himself against it.

"No." His tone is gentle but firm. "And you know why."

"No, I don't." She feels like a stupid pupil in her first year, standing before the headmaster's office after a particularly nasty prank. But she can't help it. "I don't."

"You remember that Severus used to brew the Wolfsbane Potion for me, do you?" he patiently says. "And I highly doubt that he is willing to do it for me right now, given the circumstances. I'd have to find him first, and he would most likely use one of the Unforgivable Curses on me."

"But…"

"No." Now his voice has a slightly strained undertone. "Nobody should be around me while I'm… while I'm changed. I would bring you in danger. I would most certainly harm you. The last time I was not alone and turned into a werewolf, I nearly mauled Harry and Hermione. And that time the potion was available… this time it isn't."

"And if you had the potion… would you let me stay then?"

"No." He shakes his head, his hands drawing gentle, massaging circles on her cramped shoulders. "No, love, I would not."

The thoughts rush in her head, slowly forming a bold image that makes her breath go faster. It might work – perhaps… But it would mean that she… Tonks swallows, slowly and deliberately pushing the sudden, icy panic aside and letting every limb relax as if in resigned defeat. She won't give in to the fear. Here is everything she ever longed for, everything she always dreamt of. It is thousandfold worth the risk.

"Tough luck, I think," she murmurs against his warm skin. "Don't be upset… I simply had to try."

He is not fooled that easily. He raises his head, peering at her through the growing brightness in the silent room. "No hysterical tears? No desperate pleas? No threatening to rain down every curse you've ever known?"

Surprisingly enough she feels the irritating urge to giggle. "Of course not. I fear you mistake me for Bellatrix."

"Not at all." Laughter vibrates through his chest, and suddenly she finds herself lying on her back, held down by sinewy arms and a lithe, naked body. "And I'll prove it to you at once, my lovely witch." His lips brush over her mouth. "Oh… and never fear, we will be able to be at the Burrow when Fleur and Bill make their promises. They have agreed on a date two weeks after the next full moon. Arthur and Molly simply wanted to be sure that Fleur is not too… surprised at what she finds in her wedding bed."

"You still underestimate her, all of you," Tonks whispers, her hands following a curious, arousing trail down to his buttocks. "She won't be surprised… and certainly not disappointed."

Her mouth invites him in, every thought washed away by a wave of thrilling, delirious sensations. But she still will make her plans… later.