A foam cup of coffee sat between Remus's hands. Across from him sat his father-in-law, Ted, who hadn't said anything since they sat down at St. Mungo's cafeteria for a 'chat.'
A 'chat' which Remus expected to be painful, if his hunch was true that Ted had overheard a private conversation in which Remus shared his repeated, nightly enjoyment of Nymphadora's body.
It was Ted who broke the silence first.
"How long has this been going on?"
"The honeymoon," said Remus. Ted made a face, something between surprise and discomfort.
"You don't deny it?"
"No." Remus felt his face heating up and his insides twisting. "I'm sure you heard what I said."
"I did." Ted took a long sip of his coffee and sat back with his hands clasped and resting on his midsection. "You promised you would never touch her."
Remus squirmed against the uncomfortable metal chair. He had promised, vehemently, that he would never touch Nymphadora in anything but friendly ways.
Their nightly explorations were anything but merely friendly.
"I will only ask this once," said Ted. "Are you taking advantage of my daughter?"
"No!" Remus shouted, startling other diners. He quickly shook his head. "No, no. I would never . . . I resisted, many times . . . she's very insistent."
Ted nodded, seemingly placated by the response. "Where is this leading to?"
Remus paused and took a gulp of his coffee, which burned the roof of his mouth. Wincing, he replied, "I don't know. We're taking it . . . day by day."
"Do you love her?"
Everything in Remus's body was either too hot or too cold. His toes and fingers were freezing, his head was on fire, his internal organs were icy and twisted, his chest was burning—and he still had to answer the question.
"Lupin," Ted said firmly, "do you love her?"
"I . . . don't know."
"This is not a . . . mutually beneficial situation?" Ted asked, betraying a pinkish tinge to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Friends with . . . special privileges?"
Remus wanted to sink into a puddle and be evaporated away. He wanted to run into the nearest brick wall, smash his head open, and wither into nothingness. Anything was better than this conversation.
"I don't think so," he finally croaked. "We're more than friends."
Ted put his chin in his palm and nodded. "Have you considered how this ends?"
Remus had considered it; the 'end' of the relationship had been on his mind for months. He was sleeping with Tonks now, they'd confessed their feelings to each other, but they were still in a forced marriage. He would never have married her, even if he loved her. He supposed she would either tire of him and gently tell him not to visit her bed again, which would break his heart, but he would understand, or, more likely, whenever the werewolf guardianship laws were repealed, she'd wake up, realize how far she'd fallen, and turn Remus out onto the street the first chance she had. Either way, he expected a broken heart and a lifetime of knowing what could have been.
"I don't believe it will end well for me," said Remus, fiddling with his fingers in his lap.
"You don't? You don't think that 'nightly, multiple' encounters with my daughter will leave you satisfied?"
Remus had to cover his face with his hands. He couldn't look at Ted, or anything else, in the eye. Keeping the barest space open between his mouth, he replied, "She will leave me one day, I am sure of it. She will be all right."
"Is that so?"
"Yes?" Remus wasn't so sure, given Ted's irritated tone.
"It isn't as if you've tried to leave her, now is it?"
Remus let his hands slide off his face and swallowed a huge breath of air.
"My wife and I aren't stupid, Lupin. An international Portkey with a flexible departure date—to Brussels? Not that Belgium doesn't have its charm, but it so happens to be the least expensive location to travel to from London. Are you quite sure you don't plan on leaving herand breaking her heart?"
"I won't—"
"—no, you won't," Ted said sharply. "Whatever arrangement you've concocted with my daughter, you will be nothing but gentlemanly, you'll treat her with the kindness and devotion she deserves, and you will not toy with her emotions."
"Yes—"
"—I don't need to tell you that while she is more than capable of handling herself, she's got a good heart, and she gives more chances than others deserve." Ted stared pointedly ahead at Remus. "Neither 'Dromeda nor I wish any misfortune to fall on you, but I can guarantee that your misery will be entirely deserved if you hurt her."
Remus could only nod along. He had thought of leaving, right after they'd slept together, to spare Tonks any further embarrassment. When he'd tried to shift in bed, she'd kissed him, straddled him, and they'd had sex again. And again.
"It's almost Christmas. I suggest you have Dora tell her mother before dinner. 'Dromeda has her suspicions," said Ted, tapping his fingers against the table, "and we would prefer honesty over deceit. Please spare us the details, but if we're supposed to be your supportive in-laws, we need to know what's going on. My wife is not fond of surprises."
The churning in Remus's stomach had settled into the feeling of pinched nerves in his sides. He was clammy and itchy, and needed to be elsewhere.
"Do you understand, son?"
"Yes, Ted. I do."
Convincing Tonks to tell her parents that she and Remus were having sex was difficult, but not as mortifying as the conversation Remus had with Ted. Remus suggested that they already knew, would appreciate the truth, and it could only help their relationship to be honest.
Christmas dinner with the Tonkses was awkward, given the nature of the confession, but as Ted already knew and Andromeda had her suspicions, it wasn't a total shock to either of them. It was made more uncomfortable when Tonks brazenly rubbed her hands along his thigh at dinner, forcing him to adjust himself often enough that by the time they got home, they barely made it to the sofa before he thrust into her.
The holidays came to an end and the new year began. Arthur was released from the hospital and Grimmauld Place would be almost empty soon. It wouldn't be soon enough; the full moon approached, and with how crowded headquarters was, Remus was wracking his brains, trying to find a solution to his dilemma. He couldn't transform anywhere outside anymore; yet more restrictive werewolf laws were enacted on the first of the year, including criminal punishment for werewolves transforming outside the Ministry encampment or guardian-provided shelter.
The flat in Newcastle wouldn't do, and the derelict cottage he'd had on the moors was too ramshackle to be put together by magic.
Tonks, always looking for a silver lining, volunteered her parents' garage for the occasion, and Remus had the unhappy task of deciding between destroying their property or risking a sentence in Azkaban if he was caught outside.
"It's just storage," Tonks told him, as they stood outside the structure. "Mum and dad don't need a car. Dad had one, ages ago, but he got rid of it. I used to go up on the roof and look at the stars."
"It will need a lot of magic," Remus said reluctantly. "More than the usual charms and enchantments."
"Padfoot will come, won't he?" Tonks bit her lower lip and drew her yellow and black scarf around her neck. "That should make it easier, in some ways."
"We can't risk him being spotted. I have to be alone."
"It's too bad I never became an Animagus," she murmured. "But I reckon if you saw a jackrabbit as a wolf, you'd want to eat me?"
Remus gave her a small nod. He had, in fact, destroyed many rabbits and hares as Moony, discovering their bloodied corpses the morning after a full moon. The grisly sight was a source of paradoxical relief that he hadn't infected anyone and devastation that he was so violent.
"It's better you aren't," he agreed, banishing away the images of woodland creatures' entrails. "Shall we?" He pointed his wand up at the roof and cast the first charm. It took two hours, standing in the frigid January wind, for Remus to feel comfortable with the enchantments on the garage. Tonks thought it was overkill, but she didn't know—couldn't know—how worried he was that it wouldn't be enough.
He'd cast another set of enchantments before he transformed, just to be safe.
A warm, wet cloth was on his face, being wiped across it gently. A hand was pressed into his chest, but it wasn't the delicate, playful hand of Tonks. No, it was—
"Ted?"
"Dora got an owl from the Ministry last night, something urgent," Ted explained. "This'll smart—"
Remus gasped as a rib snapped into place. Above, there was a patch of cloudy, grey sky.
"Don't know how you did it, if you're asking about that." Ted pointed his nose up to the hole in the roof. "'Dromeda and I stayed up . . . had to recast a charm or two, but everything else held."
"S-sorry."
"Better here than at that flat," said Andromeda, as a warm blanket was thrown over his body.
"Or the kids," added Ted. "Now, can you turn to the side?"
Remus shifted, only now realizing he'd been nude. He tried not to dwell on the knowledge that all three Tonkses had seen him naked.
"Stay still, Remus." Ted began to smear something on his back, while Andromeda's charmwork cleaned the floor. "Your spine's badly bruised, but nothing's broken. Can you try to sit up?"
With a painful heave, Remus sat up and felt the chilly air skim across his skin.
"Your robes—" Andromeda's wand brought a neatly folded bundle to Remus's lap. "—I'll step out. Ted can manage."
The sound of a loud crack outside drew their attention, and Andromeda stepped out. Remus heard Tonks's rapid chatter, and while he couldn't decipher it over the sound of the wind, he was able to get on his feet and get dressed. Leaning on the side of the garage, Remus followed Ted back into the kitchen.
Tonks had deep, dark circles under her eyes. "Wotcher, Remus, dad."
Remus sat in a chair next to her and held in a pained hiss. The bruises on his spine were agonizing.
"Pain Relief for you," Andromeda said, pushing the potion in front of Remus, "and porridge for you, Nymphadora."
"What happened," Remus rasped, after gulping a bottle of potion down, "last night?"
"Look for yourself." Tonks pushed a copy of The Daily Prophet across the table. In large, bold letters, the headline read "MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN!"
"Ten of them?" Ted asked, aghast, as Tonks nodded.
"Got there just in time to let them escape—your dear sister, mum, didn't go down without a fight—" Tonks held up her arm, and rolled up her sleeve. Her bare, pale flesh was covered in bite and scratch marks. Ted was at her side immediately, healing the bloody injuries and bruises.
The utensils in Andromeda's hands clattered to the floor. A look of genuine fear crossed her features; it was something Remus had never seen.
"She didn't have a wand," Tonks muttered. "They had help, someone Apparated them from the sea before they could do anything else."
"Nymphadora," Andromeda gasped, "this is very serious. My sister—"
"—won't be going anywhere anytime soon, at least not to show her face."
Waves of relief, terror, and panic washed over Remus. He was relieved that though it was the full moon, he hadn't hurt Tonks or her family, but fear gripped him, knowing she was brutally injured by another. The worry over the escapees was starting to sink in; at least, for once, he didn't feel he was the most lethal threat to Tonks's life. It still felt terrible, knowing she was in pain and could've been seriously wounded.
"Were you hurt anywhere else, Dora?"
"Might've got a bad bruise or two," replied Tonks. "My head's killing me. She's weak, but was strong enough to throw me against—"
Andromeda burst into tears. The reaction was startling, if not outright shocking for Remus, and even Tonks gaped at her mother. Ted left Tonks's side and ushered Andromeda out of the kitchen.
"Blimey. Now I feel worse."
Tonks yawned and rested her head on the table. The Pain Relief Potion was kicking in for Remus, and while he needed another, he hadn't known how hurt Tonks was. He pushed the bottle toward her, nudging it into her hand.
"It's for you, Remus—"
"—take it, please. Your mum will feel better if you do, as will I."
"You took a worse beating than I did."
"Doesn't matter. I'm used to it." Remus pushed the bottle into her face, annoying her enough that she unscrewed the cap and finished it off.
"Happy now?"
"Not especially," Remus said, hoarse but happy to see her. "What really happened?"
"We got bloody lucky. Two Muggle aeroplane pilots noticed unusual, dangerous activity when they flew over the North Sea. Our overnight scanners overheard the message and thought it had to do with Azkaban. Dementors cause turbulent flying conditions, whatever that means. Loads were escaping and we know someone was trying to get them out, but there's no proof."
"Did you catch who did it?"
Tonks groaned and shook her head. "It was so close, so fucking close. You should've seen Scrimgeour and Kingsley and everyone. I'd be screaming my head off but I'm too tired. It was awful, Dementors everywhere, dark, and stormy and fucking cold." She shivered at the memory and put her hands around her steaming cup of tea.
"Are you badly hurt?"
"I should be asking you." One of her hands came to rest on Remus's scraped one. "I saw that hole in the roof."
"I'll manage—"
Ted and Andromeda came back to the kitchen. Andromeda's eyes were pink and puffy, but she was no longer sobbing, and Ted had a grave look in his eyes.
"Dora, come," he said. "Your mother's going to brew potions for you and Remus. I want to look at your injuries again."
"It's not that bad—"
"—please, sweetheart. For your mother." Ted tilted his head at Andromeda, whose cheeks were glistening with tears. Tonks's chair scraped on the floor as she got herself up and disappeared to the living room.
With a swish of her wand, a series of potions came out of the cupboards and landed on the dining table. They didn't land in Andromeda's usual, crisp order.
"One each." Her voice was soft and pained.
"Thank you," Remus mumbled. While Andromeda had an impressive three cauldrons on the stove, each one preparing a new concoction, he drank from the potions she'd given him and started to feel better. His stomach growled, and to his surprise, Andromeda came to join him at the table with a plate of bacon sandwiches.
"You need to eat."
Remus gratefully took a sandwich and munched quietly.
"She'll kill her," Andromeda whispered. "My sister—if she finds her—" She dabbed at her eyes and cried into a handkerchief. Remus sat, aching and sore, watching his mother-in-law cry.
"She won't show her face," Remus said hoarsely, uncertain if it was the right thing to say. "It would be the height of stupidity to try—"
"—she can't know about you. She can't know Nymphadora is married to a . . . to you."
Remus felt the sandwich on tongue turn to dust. His marriage had altered so many parts of her life. Tonks changed her last name when they married; it would be impossible to ignore Nymphadora Lupin-Tonks, especially after the wedding announcement put in The Prophet a few days after they were married. Even if Remus's lycanthropy hadn't been revealed in The Prophet when he'd had to resign from Hogwarts, it would be all too easy to discover what he really was.
"Andromeda—"
"Minor concussion!" Ted called from the living room. "Bed rest for both of them!"
"Go, Remus," Andromeda urged softly. "Get your rest. Nymphadora will want you with her."
Worried anew over his marriage, the escape from Azkaban, and his mother-in-law's fears, Remus wanted to find a way to help, but all he could do was trudge upstairs to Tonks's childhood bedroom and crawl into bed with her.
Remus and Tonks stepped into the master's suite of Grimmauld Place and sneezed violently. Layers of dust surrounded them, as the room had been untouched for years.
"Buckbeak's in the other room, if you don't mind," Sirius said, lazily flicking a dust bunny off his robes. "He won't use the bathroom."
"I didn't think hippogriffs needed indoor plumbing," Tonks said, rolling her eyes. The covers on the large bed against the center of the wall were moth-eaten and stank. Remus wrinkled his nose and sneezed.
"It's workable," Andromeda murmured. "A few hours of deep cleaning should do it."
"This house is so creepy." Tonks groaned and leaned her head into Remus's chest. Something rattled in the wardrobe.
"We'll manage," Remus sighed. "Thank you, Sirius." Buckbeak squawked from the other side of the wall. Sirius went through the adjoining door between the master and mistress's suites. It was a sign of how old the home was, when husbands and wives slept in separate rooms and only visited each other for sex. The sound of crunching bones replaced the hippogriff's squawking, a minor improvement.
"Silencing Charms will help." Andromeda cast one at the adjoining door and the crunching vanished.
"Thanks, mum."
Andromeda put Remus and Tonks to work in cleaning Orion Black's old suite. After the mass breakout from Azkaban, Andromeda insisted that Tonks and Remus move back home. Tonks was appalled at the idea, as was Remus, who had no intention of having sex with his wife under her parents' roof. Sirius and Kingsley suggested Grimmauld Place instead, with Sirius claiming they could have the old house when his name was cleared. It was the happy medium between moving in with Tonks's parents and listening to Andromeda's lectures on how dangerous Bellatrix Lestrange was.
The suite was generously sized, and once it was cleaner, it was more promising. There was only one bed, which was no longer a worry—Sirius howled with victorious laughter when he discovered Remus and Tonks were sleeping together—and the bathroom was larger than what they had in their flat. The downsides that came with living in an old, haunted home meant a hippogriff as their next door neighbor, Sirius and Kingsley inhabiting the second floor, and Kreacher shuffling from room to room to insult them. Remus could manage two more roommates, but he had grown accustomed to being able to make love to Nymphadora in the privacy of their flat.
"It's temporary," Tonks reminded Remus, when the space was deemed clean enough for them to start putting their clothes away into the wardrobes. "When we catch them and put them back in Azkaban, we can find a new flat. Or maybe a little house! We'll save loads of gold!"
Remus mustered a smile. She was even unhappier than he was; it was her idea not to live at Grimmauld Place from the get-go. Saving money felt important, but somehow, privacy with Tonks became priceless, and far more valuable than gold.
"Okay," said Tonks, as she tapped her wand to close a wardrobe, "this is what we'll do. We'll go downstairs and have dinner with everybody. Then, after the meeting, you and I will come up here, have crazy, hot sex on my dead, great-uncle's bed, and then wish Buckbeak a goodnight. What do you think?"
"As long as we don't refer to our bed as Sirius's father's," Remus said, shuddering, "it sounds like a very good plan."
Tonks smiled at him, and it felt as if the whole world didn't have to be so dark, because she looked at him like that.
