Saturday, 24 August, 1991
The shouting match that took place when Andromeda Tonks returned from her outing with friends was like none other in Tonks's memory.
It was worse than the time eight-year-old Tonks went exploring in Knockturn Alley and was nearly sold as a human trinket in a dodgy shop.
It was worse than the time twelve-year-old Tonks was caught morphed as her mother so she could buy a top-of-the-line broomstick ahead of her second year at Hogwarts.
It was worse than the time sixteen-year-old Tonks snuck out of the house to go to a Weird Sisters concert and ended up in Ministry custody for performing underage magic in front of Muggles.
Andromeda screamed at Tonks. She screamed at Ted, for allowing Tonks to make such a foolish decision. She screamed at the heavens, for allowing such a law to exist, but the damage had been done. Nymphadora Tonks would wed a werewolf and bear his children.
Tonks expected another blood-curdling scream when the Ministry notice arrived on Saturday afternoon, which bore the wedding details, but it seemed Andromeda had shouted herself hoarse, or Ted had calmed her down enough to accept the new reality. Whatever Ted had said, Tonks could only be grateful, as Andromeda seemed no more irritated by the official marriage notice than by the lack of her favorite ginger biscuits.
Tonks would be married by the end of the week, and there was nothing that could be done about it.
"Friday seems soon, doesn't it?" said Tonks, as her mother snatched the Ministry notice from her hands. "That's only six days away! Not even a whole week!"
"It's uncommon, but not unheard of," said Ted. "The Ministry doesn't want to give anyone enough time to run."
"But that's—" Tonks groaned. "How am I supposed to get ready for this in six days?"
"Darling, that's the risk you take when you make this decision," Andromeda said, with a sigh. She sat down at the kitchen table and summoned her diary from the living room. It zoomed in, landed in front of her, and opened to the upcoming week. "I'm sure your decision to become an Auror didn't help."
"It is?" Tonks plopped into the seat next to her mother. "They didn't say anything about that in the catalogue or the guidelines."
"It's on the application, Nymphadora."
Andromeda handed a copy of Tonks's application back to her. At the bottom of the application, in miniscule writing, Tonks had unknowingly agreed to be wed on the Ministry's schedule, which could take place in as little as 72 hours but no more than 31 days. For prospective Ministry employees, the timeline could be shortened according to the designated department's needs.
"But none of my friends have ever had less than a week! Two weeks, that's what everyone gets!" Tonks complained. "Is this really just because I want to be an Auror?"
"As if you needed to make your life more difficult," Andromeda muttered, as her charmed quill began rearranging her schedule for the week. "Ted, will you—"
"Already on it," said Ted. He sat down across from Tonks and laid out a sheet of parchment, a pot of ink, and a quill. "Thursday into Monday, do you think?"
"Sunday's the first."
"I'll work the morning and come back in time for lunch."
"What are you two talking about?" Tonks asked.
"Your father is going to take the weekend off," said Andromeda, as if it were obvious. "Your wedding will be on Friday, and I expect we'll be helping you and your . . . husband . . . find a place to live."
"You don't think he already has a place to live?" Tonks raised a turquoise brow at her disbelieving mother. "He's 31 and makes good money."
Andromeda set her quill down. "He's a werewolf."
"So?" Tonks glanced between her parents. "Do werewolves not live inside houses?"
"I believe what your mother means to say," said Ted, putting his hand on Andromeda's, "is that werewolves aren't usually known to have their own homes. Your mystery bachelor is unusual to even have a job, given his condition."
"You think he's lying?" Tonks asked, crestfallen. "But if he's lying—"
"It's unlikely he's lying, sweetheart," Ted said. "The Ministry verifies the information. He may not have his own home because of his condition, or maybe the home he does have is too small. We'll know more when we meet him on Friday."
"Where else would he live, the forest?" Tonks got up to find more biscuits, but seeing that they were out of the ginger ones, she settled for her father's favorite shortbread. "Or what? You think he lives with a pack of—"
Tonks closed the cupboard door and found her mother with her hands clasped together, her knuckles white against the dark grain of the table.
"That's exactly what you think," she gasped. "You think he's got to be a ferocious beast, a monster, nothing but evil—"
"Dora," Ted warned. "Not now. Your mother and I aren't making any assumptions. We're treating your mystery bachelor as if he were any other unmarried young man. He might have a flat, he might have a mansion, he might live with his parents. We need to be prepared for all possibilities."
Ted reached out and took Andromeda's hand. He bent close to her ear, murmured something, and Tonks watched as her mother's breathing evened.
"Nymphadora, please sit," Andromeda said, with her lips pulled tight. "We've got much to discuss."
Ted gazed up at Tonks with pleading eyes. "Please, darling? Spare an hour for your dear mum and dad?"
"When you put it that way," Tonks said, defeated, as she returned to her seat with the tin of shortbread. "What do I need to know?"
Andromeda slid a list across the table. Tonks stifled a groan when she saw its length: a dress, a place to live, packing belongings, a wedding lunch, meeting families, rings, a possible honeymoon, preparing for children—
"Mum . . ."
"Just be patient," Ted said. "One line at a time. Your mum and I want you to be ready."
Tonks wanted to go upstairs and write to all her married friends as soon as she could. But the fragile peace Ted achieved over the upcoming nuptials was too hard earned to abandon.
She would stay until every last detail was settled.
Sunday, 25 August, 1991
"Remus, stay still."
"I'm trying," Remus croaked. He straightened his spine and held his arms out higher. Lily took another set of measurements and jotted them down in her diary.
"We're almost done."
Remus's brow came together. "Whatever you say."
"Don't be smart with me," Lily said, raising her glittery emerald eyes at him. "I'm doing you a favor."
"I know, Lily, I know—" Remus winced in pain when Lily made him raise his arms. "It's the full moon tonight, remember?"
"Er, right," Lily gave him a sheepish smile and loosened her grip on his wrists. "How could I forget?"
Remus closed his eyes and tried not to shudder as Lily pinned the navy wool in place for his new dress robes. He would've chosen any other time to get fitted for them, but Lily needed the week to get them done, as no robe shop would get an order complete for him in less than a week's time.
"I still don't see why I couldn't have used my brown set—"
"You're getting married," Lily said matter-of-factly. "You should have new robes."
"I've worn the brown set only twice—"
"Oh, hush. It's your wedding day, you're not paying for these, and you know that if I can't be there in person, I'll be there in this set of robes."
Remus groaned inwardly and let Lily finish pinning the wool. He knew he should be grateful for her help, especially on such short notice, but he truly didn't need a new set of dress robes. He wanted to be at home, with a pot of tea at his fingertips, a thick blanket around his shoulders, and his secure shed only steps away.
Lily cast a number of charms on the fabric, and then finally Remus was allowed to take the pinned garment off so he could redress in his warmest jumper and trousers.
"You'll be all right tonight?"
"I usually am," Remus replied, as he smoothed his hair down. "Wolfsbane Potion makes it easier. Thank you again for brewing it for me."
"If it hadn't been for all the kids over the years, I'd've taken up the Potions post at Hogwarts." Lily put her hand on her growing belly and sighed fondly. "Did you hear Severus is taking it?"
"He is?" Remus shivered, even with his thick jumper back on his gooseflesh-covered skin. "I thought he was living abroad?"
"He was—" Lily flicked her wand and snippets of soft navy wool came fluttering down to the floor. "He was in Bulgaria or Romania. Got married, had a kid, but I reckon he came back to Britain for the Hogwarts post."
"So Harry will be his student?"
"All our children will be his students." Lily tucked her wand into her holster and put her hands on her hips. "I should write to him, now that he's back in the country."
"And say what, exactly?"
"Not sure." Lily moved her hands to her belly and sighed. "Warn him that Harry's more like me, but Daisy's all James?"
"Maybe leave Daisy out of it until next year," Remus said, with a chuckle that made his ribs hurt. "My goddaughter can make her own way."
"You're right—and before your goddaughter and all your nieces and nephews interrupt you—get out while you can. Otherwise Ralston's going to ask you to howl for him."
Remus took Lily's suggestion and hurried out through a back door. He needed no further reminder of his lycanthropy, especially so close to the day he would burden another soul with his curse.
The moon was full.
Tonks stared up at the night sky, with her chin in her palm, and wondered where her future husband was. It had taken four hours to go through the details in her mother's diary, and as agitated as it made Tonks feel, her mother seemed to feel better when the plans were complete.
They would spend the week packing all of Tonks's things to prepare her for a move that may or may not happen. If it did, Tonks would find herself living in her husband's house and spending the weekend settling her things in his home. If he had no home, they would spend their first few nights as a married couple in a hotel or at the Tonkses', and use the weekend to find a safe and spacious flat for the young couple to move into. Tonks didn't want to spend her wedding night in her parents' guestroom, but the thought of being alone with a stranger was equally unsettling. She hoped her mystery man wouldn't take it personally if she asked for separate beds for the first few days.
For the wedding, Tonks would wear her mother's dress. It wasn't her style, but Andromeda promised to alter it, make it shorter, and tailor the hemline to something more modern. There was a ring for Tonks to wear too, her grandmother Elsie's ring, in case her husband didn't have one or failed to procure one.
The other details were lost on Tonks. There was something about a lunch, a possible dinner, and a promise from Andromeda to share wisdom on bearing a healthy child. Tonks and her husband would have five years to bear a healthy boy or prove they were making a 'valiant effort,' whatever that meant.
"Dora?" Ted's voice came through the door. "Can I come in?"
Tonks flicked her wand at the door. It clicked and her father came in with a box in his hand.
"Don't tell me we forgot another sodding wedding detail," Tonks groaned.
"No, no, no. Your mum saw to all of that. She's still working on it as we speak."
"What? How is she still at it?"
"Making plans, that's all." Ted skimmed his fingers along the edge of Tonks's childhood desk. "She asked me to get something for you."
"Gran's ring?"
"It's a ring, but not your Gran's," said Ted. He sat down on Tonks's bed and handed the box to her. "This was my dad's."
Tonks opened the box and found a simple golden band within it. "You want me to give this to him?"
"You can offer it to him. Not all blokes will wear rings, but yours might want one."
Tonks rubbed her thumb over the band. It was worn and dinged in a few places, and although she had never known her grandfather, she heard stories of his generosity.
"What do you think he's doing right now?" she asked. "My mystery bachelor?"
Ted peered over her shoulder. He pointed up at the full moon with a knowing look. "He's probably not doing well, if I had to take a guess," he said drily.
"Erm, right." Tonks squirmed and imagined a werewolf in its bloodthirsty, furry state. Fear gripped her throat; what had she done?
"If he's gone this long as a werewolf, I reckon he's got a way to manage it," Ted said gently, squeezing Tonks's knee. "And if he makes good money, he'd be a fool not to pay for Wolfsbane Potion."
"Wolfsbane Potion?"
"You didn't hear about it in school?" Ted asked. "Your N.E.W.T. class . . . well, Slughorn only just retired, he might not have included the newest developments. Wolfsbane Potion was developed about six years ago. It's terribly tricky to brew. Closest thing we've got to a cure—keeps the werewolf's mind human when they transform—but it doesn't take away the pain of the transformation. If he knows what's good for him and he can afford it, he'll be taking Wolfsbane Potion."
Tonks gazed up at the moon, feeling overwhelmed by her future. What if he didn't take the potion? What if he refused, or he'd tried it and not liked it?
"Sweetheart," said Ted, "if I thought the man was too objectionable, I'd have said something. I warned you against the serial groom, and that bloke who had been arrested by the Muggle police. Your choice is risky, but if there was something in his file that really worried me, I'd have told you so."
"You don't think I'll be eaten, like Mum said?"
Ted snorted. "Your mother did not say you'd be eaten. She worries you'll be hurt. I am too, but I reminded her—as I'll tell you now—that every full moon, you're welcome to come back here. She knows as well as I do that if something goes wrong, you'll come back to us. We'll always be here to help you."
Ted inched forward and kissed Tonks's forehead, reminding her of days long past, when she'd be tucked into her bed after begging for one too many fairy tales.
"Go to sleep. You've got a long week ahead," said Ted. "Take it day by day. It won't be long till we meet your mystery man."
Tonks wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and glanced back at the moon.
Had she made the right choice?
Monday morning, 26 August, 1991
There was commotion coming from the house.
Remus stepped out of his shed after moonset, with his head pounding and his muscles begging for relief, when he saw two figures through the window. He raised his wand, his vision still blurry from the transformation, and saw a flash of coppery red.
"Lily," he mumbled, reminding himself that his enchantments only permitted a handful of people into his home before or after the full moon. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and saw Amelia, too, enormously round with twins and placing potted plants on his window ledges.
Sighing, and wishing he'd shut down his Floo last night, he stepped inside his house.
"Remus!" Lily smiled. "Pain Relief Potion, tea, and bacon sandwiches are in the kitchen. How did it go?"
"Same as usual," he said hoarsely. He noticed new pillows on his sofa, more greenery, and a few paintings rearranged on the walls. He glanced between Amelia and Lily; both their wands were occupied in scrubbing different parts of the home. "Er, not that I'm not happy to see you both, but what are you doing here? And why is everything—"
"We know you've got to work all week before you get married," said Lily. "You won't have time to clean your house or make it homey. I wrote to Amelia last night and she agreed to help!"
Amelia gestured to the window ledge full of plants and grinned. "Sirius said your future wife was a Hufflepuff. I'm eager to meet a fellow 'Puff! I thought she'd like to see some plants in her new home. Our common room had loads of them."
Remus bit back his protest. He had figured that when he showed his new wife his home, she could decide whether to stay, go, or make it different. It seemed pointless to change everything if she didn't like where he lived.
"By the way, we got you out of working the weekend," Amelia added. "Peter was all in a tizzy over working Saturday because of Walter, and no one wanted to take Sunday morning because of it being September first—"
"And we told them that they were being ridiculous," Lily interjected. "You need the weekend to get to know your new wife. The others will take turns and Pete will be alone for only a couple hours on Sunday."
Remus leaned against the wall for support. He assumed he'd only get Friday off, for the wedding; he would've asked to work, to avoid any unpleasantness that his new wife might bring, but Lily and Amelia assumed otherwise.
"Go eat, Remus," Lily ordered. "We've got everything under control. The kids are split between friends, but we've only got till four or five to make this place perfect."
There was no polite way to object to his friends' generous help. Remus ate his breakfast, took his potions, and when ordered to, went to his bedroom. There he found that his faded tartan covers had already been replaced with a flowery duvet and a collection of throw pillows. He strode to the window, expecting his usual room darkening curtains to be there, but they too were replaced by gauzy fabric that did nothing to keep out the sunlight, or the heat that would fill the room.
He flopped onto the freshly made bed, flicked his wand at the new curtains, and turned them black. The material was too thin to do anything but hang lamely on its rod.
Remus couldn't fight sleep much longer. His home was in Lily and Amelia's hands, and perhaps it would turn out for the best.
He hoped that when he met his wife, she wouldn't regret her choice of husband, and the many people who cared enough to welcome her into their lives.