Several days later, Tonks and Sirius were chatting together after an Order meeting. He was telling her about some of the pranks he'd been responsible for at school, and she was telling sharing stories from her time as an auror and auror-in-training.
The clock chimed midnight, and Tonks jumped. "I'm sorry Sirius –I'd like to stay and continue talking, but I've got a field job tomorrow, and I don't want to start it low on sleep."
He nodded. "See you around, then, I suppose. Sleep well, and good luck."
"Thanks," Tonks said, "you too. 'Night, Sirius." She stood and walked out. As she was fumbling with her cloak, she dropped her wand. Before she could pick it up, a hand reached down and handed it to her.
"I'm sorry if I startled you, Nym –Tonks," he hastily corrected himself. "But I was wondering if I could have a word?" He stood there somewhat awkwardly. You idiot, he chastised himself, you don't ask someone for a favor after sneaking up on them.
"It's no trouble at all, Remus," she assured him, "but I really do need to be heading home –will you walk with me?" He nodded, and grabbed his cloak, opening the door for her, and waving her ahead of him. There was a companionable silence for a few minutes before she spoke. "Alright, Remus, what's this about?"
He swallowed, hard, not wanting to ask this, but certain that it was the right thing to do. "It's Sirius. Being back in that house –well…" he shuddered. "As bad as it is for the rest of us, it's worse for him –he's surrounded at all times by things that do nothing but bring up horrible memories of his childhood. He's lonely, particularly now that the children have gone back to school, and it's never been in his nature to be inactive, and certainly not when those he cares about are in harm's way. Having you around –it's done him a world of good. You're around the same age he was when he went to Azkaban, and he's never had the chance to mature past that."
Tonks tilted her head and looked at him in confusion. "Remus, what's this about?"
Remus winced. He was fairly certain that she saw where this was going, but just didn't want to say it. "He's always been somewhat reckless. He's loyal to the people he cares about, and has always been disgusted when people let others people fight their battles for them without even trying to stand up for themselves."
She nodded. "I'd imagine that being locked up for twelve years because of someone ratting out his friends to save his own skin only exacerbated all of those traits."
"Precisely. And Severus's constant barbs about cowardice and hiding aren't helping –there are very few people who get under his skin that easily to begin with. And, well…" he trailed off.
"So, you want me to help Sirius," she said. "Are you saying that I should drug him or try to talk some sense into him? Because, I wouldn't do the first, and I'd probably fail at the second."
"No, Tonks, nothing like that." He was horrified by her suggestion, but reflecting back on what he'd said, he could understand how she'd come to that conclusion. "It's just that I'll be going away for a while soon, and I'm worried about Sirius being on his own in there –particularly when several days go by between Order meetings. He won't have company, he can't leave, the house is stuffed with dark magic –pretty much all he can do is destructive, which is never good, and he's not the sort to sit and read for fun –even if there were books there that could be read just for entertainment, which as far as I've been able to tell, there aren't. So, if it's not too much trouble, I was wondering if you'd just stop by occasionally just to chat, or play cards, or anything really." He looked down, wondering what had possessed him to ask this. Tonks would almost certainly agree, but Sirius would be able to tell if she was only coming out of a sense of obligation.
"Of course I will," she began, "but I want to set a few things straight. I'm not agreeing because of it being a favor or because I feel that it's the right thing to do. I'm not saying yes because he's family or anything like that. It's because I consider him my friend, and I like spending time with him." Her mouth quirked in a wry smile. "Actually, I'd been about to ask the two of you if you'd mind if I moved in. I don't like the neighborhood my flat's in –and with a war coming, it's not going to get any better. Besides, I get the feeling that Sirius'll be a much more accommodating landlord –not charging me rent, letting me paint the walls in bright, obnoxious colors –he'd probably encourage that if I could make it work, actually. There's a bedroom in there that I've had my eye on for a while –it's got some interesting nooks and crannies."
"Really?" he asked hopefully. "You're sure?"
"'Course I'm sure. Was that it?"
"It - " he began "-actually, it isn't."
Tonks raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything. "The – that story you told –at Christmas…" He struggled, trying to determine how best to ask this of her. "It gave me more hope than anything has in a while, Tonks, and I was thinking that maybe you could do the same thing for Sirius." To his utter befuddlement, she turned away from him. "Tonks?" he asked hesitantly. "I'm sorry if-" she looked back at him, and he realized with a jolt of horror that she was crying.
"Oh, Remus," she began, brokenly, "I wish I could. I really, really wish I could."
Unsure of what to do, he cautiously wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his shoulder. "Tonks, what's wrong?"
She looked up, the tear tracks on her face catching the light and sparkling faintly. "I have a very hard time believing that he'll survive this war. I've been trying not to think about it, to picture a future for him, but all that comes to mind is him finally getting fed up with imprisonment and going out, and then getting either recaptured or killed. Or maybe he'll find out that someone's in danger, and he'll run out to save them without stopping to think of what that'll mean for him, or he will think about it, and he just won't give a damn, and it scares me, Remus. I don't want him to die, but I'd rather that than have him go back to Azkaban, and he would too, and I just don't know what to do."
Crying harder, she threw her arms around him. He froze, before hugging her tighter. She didn't seem to mind, he noted with a slight jolt. "Tonks," he began, before stopping short. He'd been about to reassure her, say that Sirius wasn't stupid, but he reasoned that in light of what he'd just been telling her, that he'd simply come off as patronizing at worst or a liar at best. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration hit him. "That's part of what we're all fighting to prevent. We're going to clear his name. And Sirius won't get himself killed, because then Harry will have to go back to his aunt and uncle, and I can't think of anyone who's happy with that arrangement."
She sniffed. "Thank you," she said. Her voice was still shaky, but he pretended not to notice. "I'm sorry for breaking down on you like that"
He stopped her before she could continue. "You've got nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry for upsetting you."
She gave him a watery smile. "Thank you, but it's not your fault. I'll try and come up with a story for him. In the meantime, I've got to get some sleep. Would you mind if I just apparated home? I don't feel much like walking at the moment."
"Not at all, Tonks. I hope to see you soon."
She grinned at him, and turned. He heard the pop as she disappeared and then turn to walk back to Grimmauld place, his mind reeling with what she'd just told him. Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, he was struck by a revelation. She meant it. Every word of that story at Christmas was what seemed to her to be a reasonable future –for me. She won't? can't? tell one of those stories when she doesn't believe in it. Maybe she's –he cut himself off before he could finish that thought, but was too late to avoid the hope swelling inside him. Sirius. Remember what she said about him. But even the grim reminder of what seemed so likely to happen to his best friend couldn't kill that feeling of optimism entirely. "Thank you, Nymphadora Tonks," he whispered. Shaking his head at his own folly, he went inside, feeling like part of a burden, at least, had been lifted.