It was all behind schedule.

When Remus left Grimmauld Place in a storm, it was after business hours. He used his Muggle bank card for the first time to pull out several notes from a complicated money machine (he pretended he was foreign so an elderly couple would help him toggle the buttons). He waited to go to Gringotts to convert the pounds to Galleons, and he waited two more days to file the appropriate paperwork for a flexible-date, international Portkey. He had just enough to get to Brussels. He'd rent a broomstick and fly his way across the continent, where he'd find a small, but surviving community of werewolves, tucked away in a remote part of Poland.

He emptied his meagre savings account, and with what he had left after purchasing the Portkey, he'd use to eat until he got to the werewolf pack in the Polish forest. It wouldn't be easy living—dwelling among werewolves never was—but it would spare him from Umbridge's werewolf encampments and give Tonks the freedom to move on with her life. He tried to leave right after November's full moon, but Tonks had a belated birthday celebration with friends that he was roped into attending, and he couldn't leave just yet. The charade had to continue until the last possible moment.

The bookshop gave him plenty to do in the meantime, as well as additional hours ahead of the holiday season. He winced, thinking of all the extra hours he could get in December, but he would have to leave before the holiday shopping peaked, as the wedding was still set for early December.

At least the bookshop had language-learning books, so Remus spent his breaks and downtime practicing his rusty German.

"Ich brauche ein Zimmer für eine Nacht," Remus murmured. I need a room for one night. Nur ein Reisender. Only one traveler.

"What're you learning German for, Lupin?"

Boris, the bookshop's stalwart senior employee, looked over his shoulder.

"Travel."

"You're going to Germany?"

"Not for long."

Boris's thick brow twitched. "Surprise trip for the almost-missus?"

"Yes," Remus lied. "I'd prefer if you didn't mention it to her."

"I thought she said you were going on a honeymoon to the Lake District?"

"It's for something else." Remus tried keeping his answers short to dissuade his coworker from asking any further questions, but Boris was naturally friendly and had taken a liking to him.

"Birthday? Some other anniversary?" Boris prodded.

"Birthday," Remus provided. "Dora's birthday was last week so this'll be a belated surprise."

"It'll have to wait until the new year, won't it?" Boris pulled out a copy of their work schedule from his coat pocket. "You've got the days off for your wedding and honeymoon, but we'll need you here for the holiday shoppers. Doubt you'll be able to get off till January." He grunted quietly and tucked the schedule back into his pocket. "You'll take her on a surprise trip to Germany in January?"

"Belgium—Brussels. It won't be in January." Boris stared at him expectantly. Remus sighed and added, "My birthday's in March. We'll go 'round then but celebrate both of ours there."

"Weather should be mild for you," Boris said approvingly. "Very good. I'll talk to Richard for you, put in a good word. He's been happy with you, even if you're a tad cagey about your personal business, but every man's got a right to keep that to himself."

Remus gave Boris a quick, grateful smile and returned to the German book. He didn't care what Boris told Richard or vice versa; he'd be gone by the end of the month.

The bell on the shop door rang and Boris left the breakroom to attend to their lunchtime customer. He came back a minute later with a smiling, chatty Tonks.

"—we've had an increase in German-speaking customers," Remus heard Boris telling her. "Lupin's taken it upon himself to learn the language and help them." Boris and Tonks appeared in the breakroom. Tonks rushed forward to give Remus a kiss on the cheek, making him burn with embarrassment, while Boris winked at them and returned to the shop.

"An increase in German-speaking customers?" Tonks asked, amused, snatching the German book from Remus's hands. "Really?"

"Foreign exchange students," Remus fibbed effortlessly. "Loads of unis around and they're here for a term or two."

"Too bad we couldn't have done that—studying at Durmstrang or Beauxbatons for a year or two would've been fun." Tonks leafed through the book and set it down, seemingly bored by it. "Anyway, I came by to ask if you'd be up for a film tonight. I got Sonia to read Emma and her cousin said there's an American film based on it, Clueless, and it's supposed to be good."

"You want to see a film with me?"

"No, I'm asking the German book if it'd like to go," Tonks said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Obviously I'm asking you. I already checked the schedule and neither of us have got Order duties."

Remus was tempted to decline. He needed every last coin to eat, but sitting next to Tonks in the cinema was almost more appealing than a full stomach.

"C'mon, you've been working extra hours for weeks. You'll be working extra in December. Have some fucking fun for a change."

"Okay," Remus heard himself saying, earning him another kiss on the cheek and a hug from Tonks. She grinned and told him she'd take care of finding the cinema and a time to see the film, and she'd get takeaway so he wouldn't have to cook after work.

As she swept out of the breakroom for her personal mission, Remus sighed.

He'd miss her terribly.


Remus returned from the bookshop, feeling his mouth water when he whiffed the Chinese takeaway that Tonks brought home. Several containers were already open on their small dining table, with Tonks sitting in the living room, brow knit together as she reviewed papers in front of her. A half-empty plate was at her side and Remus suppressed a groan. He didn't like it when she ate there, as she almost always spilled food on the upholstery and he'd be the one to clean it.

"Are you finished?" he asked, pointing to her plate.

Tonks jumped slightly, startled by his presence. "Oh—yeah. Sorry I ate already, I was starving."

Remus moved to take the plate, but Tonks pushed his hand out of the way.

"How come all our money's gone?"

A peculiar, hot-cold sensation hit Remus's head. "What?"

"Look." Tonks showed him the bank statement from Barclays, the bank Remus had pulled his savings from. "It's down to nothing. The statement says the money disappeared last week." She pointed to the line that read 'withdrawal,' dated the night that Remus went to the money-obtaining machine. "Do you think someone stole it? It wasn't that much, a little over a thousand pounds, but it's not nothing."

"It . . ." Remus struggled to find an appropriate response. Claiming the money was stolen would involve the Muggle authorities. He didn't want to Confundus his way through that mess. Telling her the truth was out of the question.

"Did you take it out?" Tonks asked, peering up at him, with her wide, dark, irresistible eyes.

"Yes," he whispered. "I did."

"Why?" An auburn eyebrow went up. "I thought you were saving it."

"It's—" he inhaled sharply and scrambled for an excuse. "—a surprise."

"A surprise," Tonks said flatly. "You took out a thousand pounds, your entire savings, and want to tell me it's a surprise."

Remus nodded stiffly.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you. You don't spend a Knut without making a fuss about it. Even when you're trying to hide it, you get this little frown. There's no way you'd take out all this money without—" Her eyes narrowed at him. "What are you planning? Is this about the German book?"

Another stiff nod followed.

"Okay." Tonks stood and glared. "This is what you're going to do. You're either going to tell me the truth and I'll consider forgiving you for what I think you've done—" Her voice was low and controlled. There was no playfulness or joviality; in this moment, she was every bit a Black as her mother. "—or, or, you come up with a different solution and make that the truth. I don't want you to lie to me. If you decide to be dishonest, you can try to walk out that door, but I'll stop you and then I'll escort you myself to Umbridge's camp." She stood before him and he felt like shrinking. He'd been on the receiving end of her anger before, but this wasn't her usual ire; this was something worse.

"What will it be, Lupin?"

"Will you give me a moment?"

"No." Her eyes were hard, and her jaw was clenched. "You'll tell me now."

"I need to get something."

"I'll get it for you." Tonks murmured a charm and bound Remus's hands together. He yelped at the action, but Tonks betrayed no sympathy. She took two steps toward him, and when he tried to step back, his feet wouldn't move. "It's a special charm for Auror use," she explained coolly. "What is it that you need me to get?"

Remus closed his eyes. He couldn't look her in the face when he divulged his plan.

"I was going to run away," he mumbled. "There's a flexible-date international Portkey in my room. Top drawer of my nightstand. It's a hand mirror. It would've taken me to Brussels and I'd have disappeared for a few years. I don't want to keep ruining your life. I heard about the rabbits on your desk, the promotion you didn't get, and know about the comments your friends make. You deserve better than this, but as you've made it painfully clear you intend to follow through, I'm reconsidering my travel—"

"Reconsidering?" Tonks hissed.

Remus ignored her and kept his eyes closed. "Yes, reconsidering. Boris gave me an idea earlier. We save the Portkey for my birthday in March and enjoy a holiday in Brussels."

Short, staccato huffs followed his statement.

"Don't move."

He cracked open an eyelid and saw Tonks make her way to his room. He heard the creaky door, the mutter of several countercharms to undo his magic on the bedside table, and the rattling of his personal items.

"This is the Portkey, correct?"

Remus opened his eyes. Tonks held the mirror in her palm, and he nodded. She gazed at it for a moment and let out a muffled, throaty noise.

"I'm going to give this to my parents," she said. "I'm going to tell them it's a thank you gift for paying for the wedding and our honeymoon. They'll put up a fight, but I won't let them refuse it." She tucked the mirror into her pocket and flicked her wand at Remus, untying him. "I'm not feeling well anymore so we're not going to the cinema. You can eat whatever you want from the takeaway."

Remus felt his throat bob. "And?" he asked, with a sense of trepidation at what just punishment awaited him.

"And that's all." Tonks eyed him and she swallowed hard. Her chin trembled and her hair color dulled. "I have never been so disappointed in you, or in myself. To think that . . ." She stopped and put her fist over her mouth. "I thought I knew you. I thought we . . . I was obviously wrong. Goodnight, Lupin."

A strange, repressed squeak escaped her lips as she turned around. Remus was left alone in the living room with a perplexingly broken heart. Adding to his increasing befuddlement, the only noise that interrupted his quiet, lonely dinner was the sound of barely muffled sobbing.


The Hogsmeade visits stopped. The overnight missions with Tonks came to an end. Friendly, happy banter over dinner disappeared. Tonks ate quickly, or took dinner in her room, and if she wasn't at work or ensconced in her bedroom, she was out with friends.

Remus didn't know if this was punishment for keeping a secret from her, or if she'd finally realized how awful he was and chose to spend as little time with him as possible. If it was a punishment, it hurt badly, but if it was her maturing and knowing she deserved better, it stung a little less. She hadn't mentioned the Portkey, and by all appearances, their wedding was still underway.

The last dinner with her parents had gone especially well; Ted pulled Remus aside afterwards to thank him for speaking to Tonks about her displays of affection. Ted clapped Remus on the back, telling him that Tonks was instinctively affectionate, but it was good for Remus to express his discomfort for it and prevent her from reading too much into it. Remus couldn't tell Ted that he missed Tonks's affection, despite the embarrassment, or that he continued to salivate over her body.

There were things a man couldn't say to his future father-in-law, fake or otherwise.

Tonks's absence was noticeable, particularly at mealtimes and for missions, but as November progressed, Remus picked up more shifts at the bookshop. He decided to regrow his savings account and try not to be as stingy when it came to his soon-to-be-wife.

He was shelving a set of new books when his coworker, Jane, came to help him.

"Wedding's about less than a week away, isn't it?"

"Mmhmm."

"Nervous?"

Remus paused midway through shelving a copy of American Psycho.

"A little," he admitted, as he set the book on the shelf.

"Most blokes are." Jane chuckled lightly. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. Your Dora is head-over-heels for you. You'll have a happy marriage."

"Yes." Remus tried not to sound gloomy, but it was how he felt. He'd disappointed Tonks, which felt more humiliating than merely angering her.

"When you come back from your honeymoon, we'll have our hands full here. The uni students bring us their books to buy back and everyone else is coming in to shop for the holidays. Speaking of which, I host a little holiday party for all of us when the season's over. You and Dora are welcome, as always."

"Thank you," Remus said absentmindedly. "I'll tell her about it."

Jane continued her cheery talk about the party—the words 'white elephant' were in there somewhere—and Remus stuck to the task of shelving and organizing new arrivals. A few of the titles jumped out at him and he set them aside, thinking of Tonks, her parents, Sirius, and Kingsley. He wouldn't usually splurge on Christmas presents. Last year he hadn't bothered to exchange gifts with Sirius, but with Tonks in his life, he'd need to think about these trivial matters.

"Are you giving her something for the wedding?"

Remus gazed down at Jane quizzically. "I need to get her something?"

"Most men I know give their brides a little something," Jane replied, shrugging. "Jewelry, a trinket, something like that."

"Hmm." Remus glanced at the short stack of books he chose for Christmas presents. He couldn't give Tonks a book for their wedding, even if it wasn't real. He'd be expected to get her something nicer.

"Need ideas?"

Remus listened carefully while his coworker gave her input on a modest gift for Tonks. The ideas kept him occupied until the end of his shift, which gave him time to wander around Newcastle.

A delicate necklace caught his eye at a jewelry shop. It was simple, with a single pearl set in a knot of yellow gold. He liked that it wasn't overly romantic, like the heart-shaped gems and pendants, and it seemed like something Tonks might wear. He paid what he thought was a reasonable sum of fifty pounds and paid an additional three pounds to have it gift-wrapped.

He got home later than his usual time. Tonks was home early, which was surprising, but she was asleep on the sofa. Remus took out the neatly wrapped gift and placed it in front of her while he got dinner ready. It was hard not to sit and wait for her to wake up; he'd barely spoken to her in weeks and as selfish as it was, he missed her. Instead, he reminded himself of his duty and started chopping carrots.

A hearty Welsh cawl was simmering, nearly ready, when Remus heard his name.

"Hello," he said, wiping his hands on his trousers. He felt inexplicably nervous to see Tonks awake and disheveled, staring at him through pink tufts of hair.

"What's this?" She pointed at the wrapped box in front of her.

"It's for you."

"From who?"

"Me." Remus stayed where he was, between the kitchen and the living room, trying to see if his presence was welcome.

"Okay . . . why?" Tonks took the gift, shook it gently, and lazily swept hair out of her face.

"It's a gift for our wedding," explained Remus, feeling a familiar, unwanted flush come over his cheeks. "Jane said it's customary for grooms to give their brides a gift, and I know it's not real but it's to thank you for—"

The words came out faster than he could plan them. What was he thanking her for? Not forgiveness, exactly, nor deigning to speak with him after what he'd done, or even the entire affair that landed her in her wretched position in the first place.

He sighed and cleared his throat. "I suppose it's to thank you for your patience with me. I don't expect anything in return."

"I don't have anything for you, so . . ." She set the bow-topped box down on the coffee table. "Do you want me to open it now?"

"Only if you want." Remus tried to stay nonchalant; this was the longest conversation they'd had since she found out about the Portkey.

Tonks ran a hand through her limp hair and twisted her neck around.

"Is dinner ready?"

"Almost."

"Smells good."

"It's cawl—beef tonight."

Tonks perked up slightly and Remus released a breath. Food was usually a good place for them to begin.

"With crusty bread?"

Remus's lips twitched. "I wouldn't dare serve cawl without it. My mother would haunt me from the grave, Muggle or not."

Tonks mustered a weak smile. "Can I open it later?" she said, nodding at the box.

"Of course," Remus replied. "And if you don't like it, I'll take it back."

The timer dinged and Remus ruefully stepped away from the conversation to pour dinner into big bowls. He could've shouted with joy when Tonks agreed to eat with him at their cozy dining table, though she didn't say much. He didn't want to press his luck; going back to friendship, or whatever it is they had, would take time. A flash of pain cut through his heart—perhaps the silence was punishment for offending her. Somehow that felt worse than her coming to her senses about him.

If it was the first, a punishment, it was engineered to hurt him deeply, and hurt it did. Being at her mercy for friendship, and being denied it, had cut him to the bone. If the second, it wasn't personal—he was a werewolf and she was a healthy witch. She had no business associating any more with him than strictly necessary. As the silence dragged on, it felt like it was a punishment to be cut out of her life; he was making his penance for lying to her.

Despite his feelings, he knew he deserved it. He deserved to be forgotten and left out, if not for his lycanthropy than for his treatment of her. Yet he couldn't stop the waves of pain, knowing that Tonks was able to cut him out of her life so easily, perhaps without knowing just how bereft Remus became with her absence.

"Thank you for dinner," Tonks murmured, after finishing her food. She brought it to the sink and wished him a quiet goodnight, though it was only eight o'clock.

Remus cleaned up, as he always did, and as he didn't have a letter waiting to or from Harry, he tidied the living room and returned to his bedroom.

It was there he found a scrap of parchment, sitting atop his pillow, written in Tonks's messy scrawl, with two words plainly printed:

Thank you.