Lyall left before sundown. Remus heard his father wish Tonks and her mother well before he Apparated away with a pop from the front step of the house.
Remus stewed in his thoughts and father's words, grappling with how to begin apologizing to the witch carrying his child.
He heard her tell-tale, heavy steps on the staircase. Fear and dread gripped him – was she going to see him? Through the gap in the door, he saw her eyes flit to him, but she moved into the baby's room instead, turning her back away from him.
Remus clenched his fists together, the anxiety building over what to do. He didn't know how to be a father or a husband. He wasn't sure if he remembered what it was like to be a good friend.
He got up from the bed; he simply had to try.
The door to the baby's room was ajar. Remus steadied himself, adjusted his collar, and rapped lightly on the door.
"Tonks?"
A sniffling sound reached his ears.
"Come in."
Remus found her in the rocking chair, flipping through a photo album. She was still crying—when wasn't she crying—but he convinced himself to swallow the discomfort. He certainly knew how to do that. Seeing no other place to sit, and feeling awkward from standing near the doorway, he leaned back against the baby's dresser and looked at the floor, uncertain of how to begin.
"Do you have a question for me?" Tonks said weakly, her voice thick with emotion.
"I don't have one," he answered at once. He lifted his gaze from the floor and met her watery eyes. "I want to apologize. I, er, haven't been good to you."
She sniffled and turned her face from him. Her hand trembled upward, palm up, but it fell back against the side of the rocking chair lamely.
The sight of her lonely hand, hanging limply at her side, spurred something in him he didn't know he had. In two strides he was at her side, her hand in his, marveling at how familiar it felt. She gasped when he took it, her wet eyes blinking owlishly up at him.
"I'm sorry, Tonks. I shouldn't have said anything, I didn't mean—"
"—yes, you did," she said, taking her hand away. "You meant every word. Why are you lying to me?"
Remus wanted to bolt from the spot, but the image of his disappointed mother invaded his imagination.
"Remus bach, why have you lied to me?"
"I didn't want to get into trouble, mam."
"Lying won't get you anywhere. Go to your room, fy nghariad."
His mother's apparition disappeared from his mind.
"I don't understand everything that happened between us," said Remus, working up the courage to be honest. "I want to try for you—" He glanced at her bump, the words coming more easily now. "—for both of you. Can we try again?"
More tears streamed down her face. She snuffled into the crook of her arm, wiping the tears away.
"Try what?"
"I want to get to know you," he replied, reminded of his father's suggestions. "As a friend first, if you'll let me. I want to help you. I'll try—I'll try anything."
Tonks blinked at him, her eyes shifting their bluish hue to something grayer.
"My feet hurt."
Lyall's advice came back to him.
Offer to rub her feet.
Remus glanced down at her swollen ankles and feet. He wondered, briefly, how she was still walking on them.
"I can rub them for you?" he said, the offer sounding odd coming from his lips.
She nodded at him and extended her legs. He sat down on the floor, and stared briefly at the mammoth feet.
"Start with one of my ankles."
Remus took her left ankle in his hands and pretended it was one of his sore calves after a full moon. Her skin was soft, smooth, and hairless, unlike his own, and the swelling underneath felt unusual to his fingertips.
He looked up and saw Tonks's brows scrunched together.
"Too much?"
"A bit, yeah," she grunted. Remus adjusted the pressure and she relaxed, humming lightly as she rocked back and forth.
"That's better. Thank you."
It was quiet in the baby's room. Tonks occasionally hummed or groaned with Remus's movements. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, appreciating the quiet, intimate domesticity of touching the mother of his child.
"I haven't felt like myself in a while," she said softly, peering down at him. "I'm not used to not being able to control my body."
Remus nodded along and moved to her other foot. She sighed contently. It had been a while since he heard her crying, and he pondered how frequently he'd have to exercise his hands to keep her happy and comfortable.
"I used to be pretty," she said, her voice cracking. Remus looked up, silently cursing the wetness in her eyes. "I look like a beached whale."
Tell her she's beautiful.
"You're a beautiful whale," he said, unthinkingly. He froze, realizing what he'd just said.
To his surprise, she started laughing.
"Even among whales," said Tonks, giggling, "I'm the averagest-looking whale of all."
"That's not true."
She stopped giggling, her rosy lips forming a pout.
"Tonks," said Remus, each hand on one of her feet, "you are very beautiful. Anyone with eyes would be able to see that."
He was most pleased with himself when a delicate pink blush tinged her cheeks and nose.
"You're just saying that to get on my good side."
"I mean it."
Remus's fingers crept up to her ankles and stopped there. His muscles twitched, as if his hands wanted to go further, but he left them where they were.
"When I woke up at St. Mungo's," he explained, concluding he couldn't look any more foolish than he had when he was arguing with his father, "I thought you were the prettiest witch I'd ever seen. I didn't believe you could be my wife. You're too beautiful to be with someone like me. I thought I made you up in a dream."
Tonks merely gaped at him, her lips parted in a way that tempted him to touch them. He felt he was on dangerous ground; the foot rubbing had been too much. He shouldn't have been allowed to be this close to her.
He felt unnervingly warm. It had been years since he'd said anything like this to a woman. He kept those thoughts within, safe, where they couldn't come to haunt him when the subject of his desires became inevitably disgusted with him.
Tonks's stunned silence stretched beyond a few moments.
His heart raced and a pit grew in his stomach. Had he said too much? Was this the moment she'd come to her senses and see him for the lecherous old man he feared he'd become?
Just when he couldn't take the silence anymore and began to be convinced he ought to see himself out, Tonks leaned forward in the rocking chair and pulled her feet back.
Her hand came up again, palm up, stretched out in front of her.
Gulping hard, he let his fingertips graze hers, and inhaled sharply when she took his hand.
"Thank you, Remus. I think I really needed to hear that from you."
She rubbed her thumb on the back of his hand. It sent tiny shocks throughout his body; he was filled with the flutters of something he'd long forgotten he could feel.
A loud, gurgling sound arose from her midsection.
"I'm hungry." Tonks patted her stomach with her free hand, scrunching her eyes tightly. "Or the baby's hungry and that's why he's kicking me so enthusiastically."
Remus got to his feet, letting her hand go.
"Can I get you something to eat?"
She smiled at him, creating a warm, whooshing sensation in his chest. He would do anything to get her to smile like that at him again.
"I wouldn't say no to beans on toast."
Remus heartily agreed to her request, and only regretted his offer when he reached the bottom of the stairs and had to face her mother.
…
Remus woke up the next morning, tired but encouraged. He and Tonks talked late into the night, settling at last on 'first date' type questions to keep their conversation up. While Tonks already knew most of what he had to say, she was gracious and listened patiently. Remus made her laugh until her sides hurt with stories she hadn't heard before, and he began to see why his other self had fallen for her.
Not only was she a singularly talented, accomplished witch, but she was clever, kind, and funny. She was everything he could ever dream of, and the way she talked to him, warmly reached out to hold his hand or gaze softly at him made him dizzy and weak at the knees. He still hadn't a clue why she put up with so much—he was sure there were other, better men who could make her laugh and smile—but he tried not to think about that.
He and Tonks agreed they'd continue to sleep in separate beds. He didn't want to rush anything with her, if it turned into more. Though they were already married and had been living together for months, he wasn't the same Remus who married her. He didn't feel ready for that commitment, and knowing some version of him had committed to her made him hopeful that he'd feel the same way, but better.
Nymphadora Tonks deserved better, he thought, as he dressed himself for the day. She'd already chosen one version of him, and this Remus held out hope that she'd choose him again, when a pregnancy and wartime weren't the only things holding them together.
Tonks and her mother were already at the table when he came to the kitchen. They stopped speaking when he entered, the two of them observing him carefully upon his arrival.
"Good morning?"
"Do you know when the next full moon is?" Tonks asked, toying with the pendant around her neck. He'd learned the pendant was for him; she'd charmed it two years ago to show the lunar cycles, just after he ran off to the werewolf camps. She claimed she never wanted to miss a moon – that thought also spurred a series of warm feelings for the colorful witch.
"If you don't know—"
"July—" He stopped himself, remembering it wasn't 1994.
"It's in a week," Tonks provided, revealing a three-quarters-full pendant. "On the ninth."
His palms grew cold and clammy and a knot formed in his stomach; it was only a week away. In the days since he'd come back from St. Mungo's, he hadn't forgotten that he was a werewolf, though he'd yet to experience a full moon in his new life. The reality hit him that Tonks and Andromeda were there to witness his transformation and its usually bloody aftermath.
"Okay," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I know how it works."
"Actually—" Tonks turned to her mother, who went to the stove, where a cauldron was boiling and bubbling. "—we've got a bit of a problem, but I've come up with a solution."
The knot in his stomach twisted. Andromeda busied herself with adding ingredients to the cauldron, while Tonks beckoned for him to sit.
He sat down next to her, his spine rigid and his muscles tense. He clasped his hands together and put them in his lap.
"The thing is, you usually transform somewhere else, but you never tell me where you go."
Tonks's grasp found his knee. Having her arm there was too much; suddenly, she was rubbing her hand soothingly, up and down his thigh, as her mother was bent over the cauldron, waving her wand in a complicated motion.
"Remus?"
He let his eyes drift to her lips.
"I was saying," she said, amusement lighting her grey eyes, "you never tell me where you go. We can't risk you going away for the full moon, so mum's brewing Wolfsbane Potion. You'll transform upstairs."
"Pardon?" Remus was sure he'd missed what she said again, what with her fingers tapping away, dangerously close to his groin.
She grinned mischievously and removed her hand. The front of his trousers were uncomfortably tight. He was acutely aware his mother-in-law, who he'd made a sheepish apology to the night before, was watching his every move.
Tonks repeated the plan. He gaped at her, convinced he'd misunderstood.
"You want me," he said slowly, "a werewolf, to transform in the bedroom, not twenty feet from you and your mother?"
"We did it once before. I know all the enchantments and you'll have taken every dose of your potion. You'll be sleepy and quiet."
"What if it goes—"
"—it won't go wrong. Mum's brewed it before and neither of us will let you forget about the potion."
Remus wanted to argue with her, but as they'd only gotten back on speaking terms, and he didn't want to take her pretty smile away—
"I know you're worried. D'you want your dad to be here? Just in case?"
"Yes," he replied instantly. "He should be here."
"Good." Tonks put her hands on her belly and twisted around on the creaky chair. "Let's hope the baby behaves and decides to come arrive after the moon."
Remus's eyes flew open. He hadn't considered the chance that Tonks could go into labor at the full moon. If the child was a werewolf, no potion or spell would spare him. The baby might not survive the process, and Tonks—Remus gasped, the idea of Tonks giving birth to a dead monster overwhelming any sense of calm he'd ever felt.
"Sweetheart."
Tonks's simple, unexpected address called him out of his panic.
"We're going to be all right, all of us," she murmured, her hand on his arm. She found his hand and squeezed it, the barest comfort for his current distress. "Every moon, we've been okay." She glanced over at her mother, whose wand waving hadn't stopped.
"Let's have breakfast. You'll feel better."
She groaned and reached for the plate of bacon. Remus got it for her and placed it between the two of them.
Eating helped a little, as did Tonks's chatter about the upcoming Potterwatch broadcast. Remus was meant to speak with Kingsley, the Weasley twins, and Lee, but with his amnesia and still-healing limbs, he wouldn't be going anywhere. It was just as well, he thought, as he had no idea what awaited him if he left the safety of the Tonks home.
Remus's curiosity over the second war was enough to stimulate some conversation and keep his mind off of a baby born at the full moon. The aconite-laden mists from the Wolfsbane Potion in the kitchen, however, gave him a headache, so Tonks suggested they go upstairs.
Remus expected they'd go to the baby's room, but she wanted to lie down. He found himself lying next to her on the bed in what had been their shared room, astonished at how easily she could get him to do what she wanted.
She sighed contently and found his hand. The way their hands intertwined felt right to Remus; it was as if his body hadn't forgotten how to be with hers, even if his mind had.
"I missed you."
A low hiss escaped her lips. She let go of his hand and clutched her belly.
Remus sat upright. It was too soon for the baby—he wasn't expected for another week or two.
"I'm…all right." Tonks let her hands fall back and groaned. "Pre-labor contractions."
Remus didn't know where to look; he half-expected a baby to appear out of thin air. "How do you know? What if it's time—I'm not—I should get your mother."
Tonks clutched her sides again, but this time, she laughed.
"My water would break, you numpty," she said, gasping between her laughs. "Besides, mum's checking me and she says I'm not ready yet."
"Checking you?"
"Haven't you been reading that pregnancy book? You did it before, but I doubt you want to take a look at my cervix, unless I'm wrong?"
Remus felt the blood rushing to his face. He shook his head – it was awkward enough to think he'd be staring between her legs when the time came.
"That's what I thought. Mum checked this morning." Tonks patted her stomach affectionately. "She thinks he'll be late. Little man isn't ready yet."
"He can take all the time he wants," Remus said, releasing a deep breath. "I don't even know how to change a nappy."
Tonks sat up on her elbows, her brows coming together in pain.
"Can you help me?"
Remus tried to take her hands, but she fell back against the pillows.
"I told you," she wheezed, pointing to herself. "Beached whale." She rotated and swung her legs off the bed, planting her feet on the floor. With a grunt, she heaved herself up, but Remus still needed to help her stand.
"This kid can't come soon enough." She had one hand on her back and the other on her bump. "C'mon, I'll teach you how to change a nappy. Mum had me practice on a charmed teddy bear."
"Charmed?"
"Not so charming when it's spitting wet stuff at you, trust me." She led him into the baby's room, snorting to herself. "I'll go easy on you."
Tonks reached up and retrieved the large, stuffed teddy bear. She winced and hissed, clutching her side once more.
It was then that Remus noticed the dark stain running down her leg.
The baby was arriving early after all.
...
A/N: Translations:
Note: I'm not a Welsh speaker. If you're a Welsh speaker and something is wrong, please tell me! Otherwise, these are the translations:
bach - bach is a form of endearment that a Welsh mother might call her child, after their name. Hence, Remus bach.
fy nghariad - my love.