Remus arrived at two important conclusions after he left his meeting at the Muggle pub: first, Nymphadora Tonks was a lovely, vivacious young woman who would be an asset to the Order. Second, and more importantly, Remus would tell Dumbledore that he had no interest in marrying her.
If he were any other man, Tonks would've been a perfect choice: she was a clever, talented, funny, and attractive witch. But Remus wasn't any other man. He was poor, cursed, and broken. He'd known Tonks for all of 90 minutes and concluded she deserved someone better. Whatever Dumbledore and Mad-Eye had told her, they were leading her down a dangerous path.
Remus wouldn't agree to saddling the young witch with his lycanthropy and other problems. He'd request they find another witch—or wizard, if it came to it—whose life didn't hold as much promise.
He would write to Dumbledore and let him know to find someone more suitable, or let Remus fall back on his original plan to comply with the Ministry's orders.
Remus tiptoed through the front door of number twelve. He'd learned the hard way that making any more noise than strictly necessary would earn him—and Sirius—a nasty earful from Mrs. Black's unmovable, screeching portrait. He fancied a cup of tea before bed, so he went down to the kitchen, where he found Dumbledore, Tonks (her hair now a vibrant shade of pink), and Sirius having their own tea party.
"Told you," Sirius said, knocking his shoulders into Tonks's. "Right on schedule."
"Hello," said Remus, uneasy with three sets of eyes on him. "I just came down for tea."
"Why don't you join us, Remus?" Dumbledore suggested, gesturing at the cups of tea on the table before him. He looked far too pleased with himself. "We're having tea as well."
Remus felt his limbs move mechanically as he poured the hot water over his tea bag and let it brew. He had his back turned to all of them, and though he couldn't see them, he knew they were staring. He sighed irritably. He'd had a long day and he was in no mood to entertain the sham Dumbledore set up for him.
"Must've been a shock then," Sirius said casually, as if the tension in the kitchen was non-existent. "A few hours after you were born?"
"Not even an hour, but dad thought he was sleep deprived," said Tonks, with a laugh. "Mum didn't believe him until she saw it for herself and my hair went from brown to blue."
When Remus turned around, Tonks's hair was no longer wholly pink and spiky, but turning into a turquoise quiff. He rubbed his thumb against the chipped handle of his mug, and remembered she'd told him she was a Metamorphmagus. As they were in a Muggle place, she couldn't show anything off. Seeing her hair change so easily was mesmerizing.
"Will you be joining us, Remus?" asked Dumbledore, as the chair to his left moved aside.
Remus begrudgingly took the seat across from Tonks and Sirius, noting the way Tonks's eyes twinkled merrily, reflecting the candles lit at the table.
He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from Tonks's when he noticed they crinkled in the corners, as if she was smiling at him.
"Albus," he addressed, looking pointedly away from the others. "Could I have a word with you—alone?" He glanced at Tonks and Sirius, whose grins had faded.
"We'll go," Sirius said curtly. Remus heard Tonks scrape her chair against the floor and stomp away with Sirius.
"Am I to understand this is regarding Miss Tonks?"
"Yes, er…I can't. Not with her."
Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing gaze that made Remus feel as if he were a rule-breaking teenager.
"May I ask why?"
Remus pursed his lips and took a scalding sip of his tea. "I appreciate all you've done for me, and her willingness to help. She's got a bright future and I will only ruin it. I can't do that to her. Please find someone else—or I'll go."
"Do you think Tonks is incapable of making an informed decision? She's an Auror," Dumbledore replied steadily. "A well-trained one, I might add."
"I understand, and that's why you can't make her do this, Albus. Find someone else." Remus clenched his fists on the table and sighed. "Aren't there others? Emmeline? Hestia?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Emmeline and Hestia have been together for many years. It would be cruel to separate them."
"Wizards, then," Remus pled. "There must be another—"
Dumbledore put his hand up. "Tonks understands what the risks are, as does Alastor, who put forth her name. We are all in agreement that you are a valuable member of the Order, and your talents will only be squandered if you submit to the Minis—"
"—but—"
"—I understand your fears, Remus and I ask you to reconsider my offer. If you are still committed to fighting against Voldemort, that is," Dumbledore said, with a gaze so sharp Remus thought it would slice him apart. "We must protect Harry's life if we're to win this war. Your presence and skills will be put to better use here, with us, than wasting away in a camp."
Remus covered his mouth with his hand, stopping himself from saying anything rash. Everything Dumbledore said was true, and remembering that he could've done more for Harry—for James's son—riddled him with guilt.
"Tonks is well aware of the risks of associating with you and with the Order. Was this your only objection to her?"
Remus nodded, disinclined to confess that not only would he ruin her life, but it was ludicrous to even think she could be 'plausibly' attracted to him. A witch like her would never deign to burden herself with a Dark creature like him.
The fake marriage would be exposed in no time.
"Reconsider the arrangement with Tonks," Dumbledore urged. "If you are unable to cooperate with her, or find your personal differences too vast to overcome for a courteous agreement, we will discuss other options."
"If we can't get along, you mean."
"Indeed. I hoped the two of you might become friendly with one another—friendly enough to pass as a couple when you are with the Order, but free to navigate the civil marriage as you deem appropriate."
Remus considered how long it would take for Tonks to find a reason to dislike him. Perhaps it would happen when she saw him for who he truly was, a monster. The next full moon was in a little over a week's time; one glance at his torn, post-transformation body ought to be enough to dissuade her.
"All right," Remus said, with a resigned sigh. "I'll talk to her."
Privet Drive was dull and dreary. Few children left their homes with the intense summer heat; the only inhabitants Remus had seen on his first shift guarding Harry and the Dursleys was a gang of neighborhood teenagers with oversized trousers and bloodied knuckles.
It was the ideal location for Remus and Tonks to discuss their doomed union.
"We've just started dating," said Tonks, swinging her legs idly on the park bench. "I broke up with my ex a few weeks ago."
"Is that the story we're telling others, or the truth?"
"The truth, mostly." Tonks flashed him a grin. "I really did have a girlfriend—"
"Girlfriend?" Remus choked. "You're—"
"—interested in both. Witches and wizards, men and women alike." Tonks put her palms on the park bench and tilted her head at him with a guarded expression. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"
Remus shook his head. "Sirius is the same."
"You seemed surprised."
"I thought—" Remus hesitated as one of Tonks's pink eyebrows quirked up and her legs stopped swinging. "—never mind. It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does. I want to hear what you have to say."
Remus wiped the sweat off his brow with his shabby, darned sleeve.
"We're never going to make this work if you're not honest with me."
"There's honesty," said Remus, staring straight ahead at the lonely playground, "and then there's pity."
Tonks narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"
"Look at me, and then look at you. You're young and you can get anyone you like, witches and wizards alike. I can't—" He sighed, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. "—I can't."
"You can't what? Compare?" Tonks said. "It's not a real marri—"
"—it has to look like one," Remus said quietly. "Compared to the other options you have…I wouldn't be one of them."
"Don't assume you know me, or what kind of person I'm interested in. It's not about looks, or fame, or what you've got in your trousers."
Tonks's palms moved to the edges of the bench, gripping them tightly. With a small shake of her head, she relaxed and stretched her legs out in front of her.
"I know I'm going to get questions because you're a werewolf. If you don't let me get to know you, I won't be able to tell people why we work and why it doesn't matter that you've got a 'furry little problem.'"
"What if we don't work?"
Tonks turned her head at him and snorted. "Then we don't get married. I want us to be friends who just happen to be married. And when they undo this stupid policy, we'll still be friends, just…not married anymore. That's what I had in mind. If we can't be friends, we're not doing this."
Remus pushed the fringe away from his forehead, thinking hard. Turning down her friendship would be the easiest way to stop her from ruining her reputation.
"Listen, Lupin…I heard what you told Dumbledore. I know what I'm doing. I know you don't want to ruin my life, and you're not going to. If you want to throw your life away, that's your business, but I was given a mission and I'm going to try my hardest to make it work."
"Then you're a fool for accepting the mission," Remus retorted. "It's a fool's errand, what you're doing."
"Let me guess," Tonks said angrily, "going to Umbridge torture camp isn't? It's the noble thing to do, to starve and die just because you can?"
Remus gawked at her, his mouth open, gobsmacked at how bold she was with a near stranger.
"I'm going to give you one last chance. If you really think torture and death is better than my friendship or helping win the war against You-Know-Who, go ahead and fuck right off. Rest in peace, you twat."
Remus hadn't anticipated such a spirited reaction from the young witch. She'd been nothing but bubbly and pleasant until that moment, and he'd just discovered a temper and colorful vocabulary to rival Sirius's.
"Let's—" Remus began, torn between the desire to let her go, accepting his fate, and the desire to stay with Tonks, the pink-haired witch who he'd insulted and still wanted to offer him another chance.
She had reminded him that it was about more than his own problems. Voldemort would still loom in the shadows, regardless of what Remus did. He could either be left behind, and be subjugated further under Voldemort's rule, or he could fight.
And, if he wanted to fight, he would have to begin with friendship.
"Why don't we start from the beginning?"
The Muggle café near the Ministry workers' entrance was bustling with activity that Friday morning. Tonks had the day off, and after their tense conversation the night before, she and Remus decided to go on a breakfast "date" there. It was close enough to the Ministry entrance that some witches and wizards might see them, giving the impression that they were in the early stages of their relationship.
"This is a good place for a date," Tonks said, as she sat down with her chocolate croissant and overpriced, foamy beverage.
Remus held his cheap, burnt coffee in one hand and a dry muffin in the other, nodding along.
"Have you come here before? On a date?"
"Loads of times." Tonks bit into her croissant, sending flaky bits of pastry everywhere. "It's great for a first or second date, when you don't really know someone. I always say I've got a shift in case it goes poorly." She took a sip of her coffee, getting foam on her upper lip, but she wiped it away with her tongue. "Where do you usually go for first dates?"
Remus almost spat out his bitter coffee. He forced it down his throat, feeling it burn the back of his mouth, and coughed.
"I don't," he replied, his eyes watering from the coughing. "I don't go on dates."
"You don't go on dates," she repeated, almost accusatorily. "So you just…?"
"I don't sleep around, if that's what you're asking. I don't go on dates, because you've got to have money to take someone out. You've got to have a job to have money. You've got to be healthy enough to keep a job, and I'm not. I've lost more jobs than I can remember."
Tonks's eyes crinkled, but not upward when she was smiling. The corners of her eyes were downturned, and she glanced down at what they had on the table. She had a large mug filled with something expensive and frothy, while he had a small, plain coffee. Her croissant, half-eaten, was set aside. His muffin was untouched, still wrapped in a paper bag, waiting to be taken to Grimmauld Place for him to eat later.
"There are plenty of dates that don't cost anything," Tonks said softly. "A walk in the park, browsing at a bookshop, or stargazing. You don't need money for those."
Remus swallowed another mouthful of his over roasted brew. If only she knew that money was only one of many reasons he didn't go on dates.
"Next time we'll go for a walk—maybe a picnic?"
"That's fine."
Tonks pushed the other half of her croissant at him. "I'm not going to finish this. Do you want some? I don't want to bin it."
Remus would've suggested taking it home with her, to eat later, but it was clear she didn't need to worry about her next meals the way he did. Things were better now, living at Grimmauld Place, and he let himself give into the treat.
"If you don't go on dates and you don't sleep around—" She began, but stopped, seeming to think better of it. "—you don't have to tell me. Rather nosy of me."
"It's a fair question," he replied, dabbing away the buttery flakes from the pastry. "You ought to know…given our situation." He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, getting ready to divulge the few intimate experiences he'd had. "I've had a few, er, friends. Muggles, all of them, so they couldn't know about me. I was never with any of them for more than a few weeks…always left before it got to be too much."
"So you do 'sleep around,' as you put it."
"I never slept with any of them."
Tonks's jaw fell open. "Does that mean you're—"
"My kind don't—" He lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. "—we don't breed. I've always stopped it before it got too far. That's what matters." He tried to convey with his tone that he didn't want to discuss it further. He'd known what it felt like to have a woman's hands or mouth on him, and that was enough.
Tonks looked as if she wanted to say more, but she cleared her throat and sighed through her nose.
"Let's talk about something else," she said. "Tell me about some of the pranks you pulled at school and I'll tell you about mine."
Acknowledging it was a welcome change of subject, Remus began to tell her about the Great Niffler Bonanza of '76.
By the night of July's full moon, Remus and Tonks had perfected their backstory. They met through Mad-Eye. Tonks claimed she had an interest in learning more about werewolves, given the recent Ministry policies. Mad-Eye, knowing of Remus through Dumbledore, brought them together. They hit it off, and when Tonks asked Remus to dinner, he reluctantly agreed.
They were a few "dates" into their relationship and it was going well.
Their more recent dates involved surveillance and spying on Death Eater homes and hideouts. It wasn't romantic work, nor was it exciting, but it did give them a chance to talk and get to know each other.
Remus supposed that if it wasn't for the marriage that awaited them, which he prayed would somehow be dissolved before it could come to pass, he and Tonks would've become friendly colleagues. She was good at her work, thinking quickly and working several steps ahead (even though she tripped on many of them). He was getting better at anticipating her moves, as well as her mannerisms.
Every time he'd seen her, since the first time they met, her hair and facial features hadn't been exactly the same. He'd seen a rainbow of colors on her head, varying shades of grey and blue in her eyes, fuller, poutier lips, thinner, pressed lips, a daintier, button nose, and a longer, drooping one. Underneath all those morphs, he'd built an idea of what she looked like without any of them, and tried to study how her face moved in all her disguises so he would always be able to recognize her.
If he was going to be paraded around as her husband, he figured he ought to know what she looked like without her morphing. He hadn't been forward enough to ask to see her natural appearance, in case the question offended her.
He told himself, as he removed his clothes ahead of moonrise, that it didn't matter what she looked like. As long as he knew her face and could find her in a crowd, she could look like anything or anyone.
He simply hoped she wasn't too pretty, or he'd feel even worse for pretending to be good enough to be with her.
When his bones started to shake and snap, all thoughts of Tonks and impending marriages were set aside. It was Moony's turn to rule his mind.
