Chapter 8: Concerns
Tonks hated the Sundays when she had to go in to the office. Ordinarily, it was the day Proudfoot took over her post at Hogsmeade. She was supposed to work, but Kingsley had taken pity on her and given her two Sundays off a month. On one of the other Sundays, she went to her post in Hogsmeade, and the other was spent at the office, giving her monthly report with Dawlish. Today was the latter.
She wanted to go back to bed. The sky was grey and the air looked positively frigid. Today was a day to drink hot cocoa in bed with a good book. But there was work to be done. She could be a few minutes late, she decided, so she made herself a mug of cocoa anyway. She had just taken her first, scorching sip when there was a tapping sound and she looked up to find an owl at the window. Perhaps Remus was willing to keep up a correspondence after all.
She strode over to the window and opened it, shivering in the freezing air that came in with the bird. She untied the letter and sent it on its way again, closing the window behind it. She went into the living room, her drink forgotten, and curled up on the couch to read. The handwriting was unfamiliar, she noticed, but as she read, she realized it wasn't Remus writing to her this time. She had to admit that this Sara knew how to handle him and wanted to congratulate her. She also wanted to tell Remus that she was glad he had someone else to keep him in line while she was so far away.
For now, she didn't have to worry about him. Her main concern was Dawlish. He had seen Remus and Annabeth would certainly get that out of him with her intended disguise. While Tonks wasn't thrilled about the means with which Annabeth planned to interrogate Dawlish, she couldn't do anything to stop her. All she could do was make Dawlish forget.
Today was going to be interesting.
Tonks Apparated into the Atrium of the Ministry and made her way toward the lift, accidentally bumping into Arthur Weasley. "Wotcher," she said.
"Good morning, Tonks," Arthur replied cheerfully. "Molly's been worried sick about you, and frankly, I am too. Why don't you come around for dinner tonight?"
She hesitated for a moment, trying to think of the most polite way to refuse the invitation. But then again, she had nothing better to do, and with Sirius dead and Remus completely unavailable, Molly was her sole confidant. "I'd love to, thanks," she said, forcing a smile.
"Dinner's a six," he said. The lift had arrived at his floor and he exited.
When Tonks arrived at the Auror's office, she was mentally practicing memory charms. As an Auror, she had placed a few in her time, but she had to keep everything in tact except for his memory of seeing Remus. Sounded easy enough. But with her inability to morph, she had also lost faith in some of her other magical abilities.
She sat at her desk, hoping Dawlish would attempt to ambush her there, rather than out in the main corridor where someone might walk past. Scanning her surroundings quickly, she picked up the paperwork Kingsley had left for her and began to fill it out. She had finished and was looking over it for mistakes when she noticed a photograph she had forgotten was on her desk: she stood between Remus and Sirius, an arm around both of them. All three were laughing and her hair was bright pink. She smiled sadly at the memory before tucking the picture in the front of her robes. It was lucky timing, too, for a voice came from behind her just as it was tucked away.
"'Afternoon, Tonks." Dawlish came around to the front of her desk and leaned against it.
"Why don't you go bother someone else for a change?" she grumbled. She had knocked over her inkwell in surprise, staining some of her recently completed work. "Damn it. Now look what you made me do!"
Dawlish chuckled. "I think that was your own clumsiness there, sweetheart," he said. "It wasn't my fault."
"You distracted me," she protested, fingering her wand.
"Yes, I am very distracting, aren't I?" He leaned on her desk, raising an eyebrow in what Tonks assumed was supposed to be a seductive pose. Mostly, it just made her queasy.
"Go to hell, Dawlish." She lifted her wand.
"You aren't planning on hexing me, are you? I'm not sure even Kingsley could protect you from that inquiry."
"As tempting as it is," she said, flicking her wand, "I just need to get rid of this extra ink." It disappeared from her papers. "Although, I might just take you up on that if you continue to piss me off."
Dawlish chose to ignore the last part. "Now, let's go make this report."
"You can go first," Tonks offered as they walked toward Kingsley's office. "I need to make sure I got all the ink off."
"More likely, you're afraid my report's superior to yours so you don't want it sticking in his mind after he's already heard yours."
Git, she thought. He'd have said something equally stupid if I'd volunteered to go first. As he walked into Kingsley's office, she pointed her wand at his back and muttered, "Obliviate."
"Tonks," Kingsley's calm voice said. "Why don't you come in, too, so you can give a joined report."
"All right, Kingsley," she said, stepping into the office. She knew immediately why Kingsley wanted both of them. Dawlish's eyes had glazed over. She had forgotten about this side effect.
"Dawlish," said Kingsley," perhaps you should go home. You've worked hard and you look like you need some rest."
Dawlish looked confused for a moment, then said, "Yes, sir." He turned and left, shutting the door behind him.
"Tonks, have a seat." He gestured to the uncomfortable-looking char on her side of the desk. She did as she was told. "Now, tell me what happened to Dawlish."
"It's kind of a long story," Tonks said evasively, swinging her legs nervously and feeling like she was back at Hogwarts, being lectured by Professor Sprout for hexing one of the Slytherins who had made fun of her lime green hair.
"Listen, Tonks, I know a memory charm when I see one. What happened. I have plenty of time. It's Sunday, after all, and you and I both know very few people come in on Sundays."
"I'm guessing you won't take 'I don't want to talk about it' for an answer."
"That's a safe assumption," Kingsley said, starting to sound mildly weary. "Tonks, I really don't want to report you, but if you put a memory charm on Dawlish, I have to know why. I know you've been unhappy lately and I've made allowances for it, but I can't have you messing with other members of my staff. Dawlish isn't exactly my best friend, but he's close to Scrimgeour, so we have to deal with him. Tonks, if you can't tell me as your boss, at least tell me as your friend. I'm worried about you."
"It's Remus," she blurted without thinking. "He came to see me and Dawlish dropped by and saw him but he wasn't supposed to be in London, see, and one of the other werewolves is already suspicious of him and apparently she got hold of my hair and some polyjuice potion and plans to trick Dawlish into revealing he's seen Remus at my place. I had to make him forget to protect us both."
Kingsley was silent for a long moment before he replied, "It was still a bad idea. You should've gone to Dumbledore and told him. Now, I have to file a report on this and I hope for your sake there isn't an inquiry. I'll try to cover it up the best I can, but there's only so much I can do."
"Thank you Kingsley," she said, feeling slightly relieved. "I was just so worried about Remus and…" She trailed off, not sure how to say what she was feeling.
"I know," Kingsley said with a smile. "Thinking with your heart instead of your head. I understand. We're all worried about Remus. But at the moment, I'm more worried about you. I've never seen your hair brown so often, and, quite frankly, you look terrible. Have you been eating, Tonks?"
"I'm going to the Burrow for dinner tonight," she said.
"That's something at least," Kingsley replied. "Just make sure you keep eating. I can't lose one of my best Aurors, not now that Voldemort's back." He paused. "Now, about your report…"
An hour and a half later, Tonks had completely relived every single detail of her month in Hogsmeade. She stood to leave, the paperwork on Kingsley's desk. As she opened the door and began to step out, Kingsley spoke, "Tonks, I'm sorry about this mess. I'll do everything I can. And give my best to the Weasleys."
Tonks nodded. "I will. Have a nice day, Kingsley."
"Take care, Tonks," he said as she left, closing the door carefully behind her. She left the Auror office and walked down the hall to the lift. There were still five hours left until she had to be at the Weasleys' for dinner. There was plenty of time for a quick trip to Diagon Alley.
She exited the lift into the Atrium, which no longer contained the fountain she had grown accustomed to seeing. She had been told Dumbledore and Voldemort had destroyed it in a duel after she had been knocked out. Wish I could've seen that, she thought. Perhaps if she had, it would mean she had also gotten Bellatrix and Sirius would still be alive and maybe Remus would have stayed. He blamed himself for her injuries in the battle and Sirius' death—she still hadn't worked that one out—and maybe if neither had happened, he would have stayed with her. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she was startled by the familiar voice that said, "Good afternoon, Nymphadora."
"Dumbledore!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" She didn't bother correcting him on her name. It did no good and she was too relieved to see him to be bothered about it.
"I was on my way to meet with Scrimgeour," he replied. "Is something wrong?" he added, seeing the look on her face.
"I'm just...stressed," she said. It wasn't strictly a lie, but she didn't want to meet Dumbledore's eyes. She knew he could see right through her.
"I see," he said, trying to get her to meet his eyes. "It's about Remus, isn't it."
Tonks kept her eyes firmly on the floor, tracing one of the swirls on the tile with her battered shoe. "So what if it is?"
"I know you're worried about him, Nymphadora. But he's worried about you and I'm sure he doesn't want you to be unhappy. Now, I must be off. Scrimgeour doesn't like being held up, if I recall correctly."
Tonks gave him a slight smile, lifting her face. "No, he certainly doesn't."
Dumbledore returned her smile. "Goodbye," he said stepping toward the lift.
"'Bye," Tonks said, turning on her heel and vanishing with a pop, the unasked questions for Dumbledore still reeling through her mind.
Diagon Alley was nearly deserted and Tonks didn't blame anyone. It was much too cold for her liking. The wind picked up and she drew her cloak tighter around her as she climbed the steps to Gringotts, imagining the warm dinner that awaited her at the Burrow…
Tonks arrived early, much to Molly's delight. She was surprised to find the twins there, but apparently Molly disliked being left alone with Bill and Fleur—Tonks didn't blame her one bit for that—and often invited Fred and George over for dinner. Tonks sat in the kitchen with Molly, who refused every offer for help and checked her special clock every minute or two. "I can't believe Arthur isn't home yet. He's never this late on Sundays."
"That is odd," Tonks agreed. "But I supposed the Death Eaters are increasing the workload in his office with all the Muggle Baiting. I know my department is going crazy. I don't think Kingsley ever gets to see home anymore."
"IT's a shame," Molly said. "I just wish he wasn't department head." She sighed, taking another long look at the clock.
Seeing that dinner was almost finished, Tonks stood up. "Would you like me to set the table?" she offered.
"That would be wonderful, dear," Molly replied, gesturing to a cabinet with her wand.
Tonks summoned the plates and carefully guided them to the table, repeating the process with the silverware, goblets, and bowls. By the time she had laid out places for seven, Arthur had returned home. He exchanged security questions with a less-than-enthusiastic Molly, who began transporting food to the table.
"Dinner smells wonderful, dear," he said. Molly beamed at him.
Fred, George, Billy, and Fleur came into the room, taking their places at the table. "You're wonderful, Mum," Fred said as he took his first bite.
"Yeah," George agreed. "If you didn't invite us home for dinner, we'd probably starve."
"Only because your cooking's terrible," Fred retorted.
"Look who's talking."
"I believe I am the better cook here, my friend."
Tonks sat silently, smiling slightly at the banter and trying to avoid looking in the direction of Bill and Fleur, who were feeding each other. She noticed Molly was glaring at the couple.
"Are you going to finished that, Tonks?" George asked, eyeing her uneaten potatoes.
Tonks looked up from picking at her food. "No, I don't suppose I am." She started to scoop them onto George's plate when Molly cleared her throat.
"Tonks, dear, you really should eat them." She shot a look at George.
"Okay." She sighed and picked up her fork. The food was, as always, delicious, but she had no appetite. She forced the rest of the meal down, listening to the friendly conversation around her and speaking only when addressed directly.
When the meal was finished, Molly began gathering dishes. The rest of the family and Tonks thanked her for the wonderful meal as she left for the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway and turned her head. "Tonks, would you join me for a moment?"
Tonks stood and followed her into the kitchen where a cloth washed dishes of its own accord. "Are you all right?" Molly asked once Tonks had shut the door behind her.
Tonks shrugged. "About the same as last time you asked, honestly." She picked up a towel to help Molly dry dishes but the older witch snatched it away. "You're a guest. Sit down," she ordered. Tonks obeyed and Molly continued, "I know you love Remus, dear, but he is right, you know. He's a nice many, but he's dangerous. He's just trying to protect you."
"I know!" Tonks snapped. "But I don't want to be protected." She looked down. "I just wish he could understand that."
"I think he does," Molly said gently. "But that doesn't mean he's willing to put you in danger. He really does love you. That's why he let you go."
"I know!" Tonks said angrily. "But that doesn't make him right." There were tears in her eyes now and Molly carefully set down the dish she was holding and ran to hug the woman who she had come to think of as a second daughter. For Tonks, it was like being in her mother's arms again for a moment, but the days were gone when an embrace could chase away fear and doubt and make all the problems go away. It still felt good, though. "Thanks, Molly," she muttered.
"It's nothing, dear," Molly said, gently releasing her.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you."
"That's fine. I'm glad you came tonight. You certainly looked like you needed a good meal."
"I suppose I did," Tonks admitted. "Thanks again. I really must go now, though. Busy day tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Tonks." Molly went back to the dishes as Tonks left the room. She said a hurried goodbye to the rest of the family, still seated around the table, and took her cloak from a coat rack near the front door. She wrapped it around her before departing into the night air and Disapparated the moment she was outside the barrier.
Once home, she went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. On the table, she found the cold mug of unfinished cocoa which she smoothed out to reread as she put a kettle on the stove. Once she had finished reading, she tucked it in her pocket and started out the window, where flakes of snow were beginning to fall.