June 21st, 1996
Remus Lupin
It took them quite a bit to settle for something better for a question.
It should be easier now, shouldn't it? Remus was the last witness to so many stories, but it was like being a lone bookkeeper in the ashes of an old library with books he had spent a decade refusing to read. He could begin sifting through the pieces for things he'd never thought to share, for moments Sirius never mentioned, but it physically hurt to do. He had begun dissecting the fragments for her, the people who had died, when he realized that in reassembling them, the pieces didn't fit together the way they should have. Twelve years had already been spent rewriting books and filling in gaps without even realizing it, having no one else to correct him, and now he'd created something completely new.
It was that first wave of grief all over again. He was almost back to where he was three years ago, except this time, there was no catharsis in the fact that some twisted sense of justice was being served. He hadn't wanted Sirius to be tortured. And the more he began to think about Peter–the Peter that had existed once, the Peter he created in his mind after his "death," and the Peter he created after Sirius escaped prison–he wasn't even sure he wanted that for Peter. Peter was his friend, one of the worst honours that had ever been bestowed upon him, and he pitied him. When he was important to a moment, Remus found himself circling around him, unable to remember objectively which Peter was the real one.
If it hadn't been such a heated moment, that night he realized Peter was still alive… perhaps if Sirius had shown himself sooner, if he'd discovered Peter's animagus form sooner, if it hadn't been a full moon, if students hadn't been in danger… would he have actually done it? Was that anger he was feeling enough to justify it? Harry had been a potent voice of reason. He never regretted not killing Peter. Sirius did, and Remus had plenty of other regrets that led up to that moment, but after the initial anger washed away, he had never felt like he had made the wrong choice to keep him alive. Mostly, he wondered if he wasn't giving Peter enough credit; Remus felt less guilt about him getting away because he truly wondered how much damage his incompetence could cause now. He was a stupid coward with no connections, no power, and a target on his back from the entire Order. He'd not be given, and would never be given, the power he'd had over Lily and James again.
Tonks was quiet, leaning on her arm, nodding, and occasionally asking questions to show him that she was still engaged. She had been strangely quiet since Mad-Eye pulled her away, sharing few words of their conversation about the Minister stepping down and her boss getting promoted, and then mumbling something about how she "ought to start actually paying for the paper nowadays," and something about "not wanting to support a bunch of liars." She kept playing with her hair, which he noticed wasn't just a bored tick; she had been trying to shorten and lengthen a strand she had twisted around her finger. It was still brown, but was becoming a shade of artificial golden-brown throughout the day, the few stray grey hairs in the front disappearing.
They talked (or rather, he talked) for what seemed like hours and they slowly began to unfold across from one another on the sofa. The sun was starting to set behind her dark purple curtains and their tea grew cold.
He recounted the others' transformations into animagi, musing on how he should've grown suspicious of their antics long before he actually did. He told her about how they had all stayed together over breaks, how one Christmas Sirius had spent the whole time trying to figure out how to give himself a stick-and-poke tattoo. She laughed when he told her about Lily's discovery of the infamous poster, which led to him telling her about Lily and James falling in love, which led back to Sirius's own escapades and girl-related detentions. He'd been there for each of their first kisses, their first girlfriends, their first horrible breakups. James usually only dated if he thought it might get him closer to Lily or make her jealous. Sirius seemed to have a new girl he fancied every month. Peter was dumped by his first real girlfriend and it was so bad, he didn't leave the dorms for a week and swore off dating for the rest of his time in school.
"Who was the first person you kissed?" Tonks inquired.
The question threw him completely off guard. He tried to think back to his time in school. He'd had far to many near-misses that by seventh year he'd practically been labelled "undateable." He hadn't even had friends as a boy, much less any sort of schoolyard crush, and he was sure he had not had his first kiss after graduation. He could so clearly hear James teasing him about it, but he couldn't pinpoint when it was exactly.
"I'm… not even sure." She gave him an incredulous look. "No, really, I have no idea. I'm sure it happened, I just can't place it."
"I can go first," Tonks suggested. She also had to ponder the question. "Well, I think I'd have to say that the first kiss I had… it was this muggle boy I knew as a girl. But I don't know if I'd consider that a real kiss, you know? I remember… third year, I kissed Charlie Weasley, but it was on a dare because he said I couldn't. And then… I dunno, something like fourth year, I kissed some girl named Heather and I thought I'd never live it down. She mostly just did it out of pity than anything else, so I looked pretty bad. And Daniel McKellen, Merlin, I only remember how sweaty he was, and too much tongue for my liking."
Remus sunk further into the couch. Their legs were almost touching. He shifted, as to not impose on her space. "Yes, I had too many pity dates for my liking as well."
The corners of her lips turned up and she took a sip of her tea. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "All Sirius's doing, I'm sure."
"Sometimes. I think I just looked… sad, and it made girls feel bad for me."
She tilted her head, still hiding her mouth behind her mug. "Sure, I suppose I can see that."
"Oh, really now, I don't need you pitying me too." He'd meant it playfully and it did make her laugh, but he nonetheless regretted it the moment he said it.
"Please, I lost my virginity in fourth year to a prefect 'cause he got dared to do it just to see if I'd change my face while we did it." The mood in the room changed in an instant, like all the air was sucked out. She continued sipping her cold tea, her eyes looking past him at the wall, melancholically. Prefect throbbed like a sore thumb. "And then it became a big thing, you know, people trying to get me to do it. And there were the guys that 'dated' me because they thought they were too good to ask me to change, like somehow that made them saints, but they didn't even like me."
This surpassed pity as he understood it. He didn't want to burden her with the memory. "Well, I'm sorry that that happened to you."
Tonks shrugged. She looked… confused. She didn't seem to understand his reaction. "It's not like it's a big deal."
"It sounds like it still upset you."
"It doesn't. And thinking hard about it and thinking it's a big deal doesn't make anything about it different. It happened." Her voice was short, curt. She took a deep breath. "It was better when I graduated. I mean… it wasn't, but I started to find people that actually liked me, you know? Look, I told you because it's funny, not because I want you to pity me too."
Remus couldn't respond. It didn't feel funny. "I suppose you're… quite close with that girl from your photograph?" He nodded his head towards the hall.
Her lips were tightly pressed into a line. She nodded again. "Amaya. We… we went to school together, got accepted to be aurors together. There were five of us in that graduating class of aurors, so we were all pretty close. Her and me and Nida and Hal and… well, it wasn't like it was a big deal. Then she sort of… well, she didn't really make the paper when she died." Remus wanted to reach out and touch her again, and he wasn't even sure why. He moved slowly, half-hoping she'd slap his hand away, setting his hand on top of hers. She set her mug between her crossed legs, putting her other hand on top of his. She tried to smile grimly. "Crushed to death in a stairwell."
"I'm…" He could only shake his head. Nothing he could say would bring her comfort.
"She was helping. There was some—I don't even know if you could call him a death eater—throwing curses around… He kept shouting things that made him sound like a death eater, but maybe he was just mad about new policies, or… I don't know, but they didn't have a mark on him. I always thought maybe it was a hazing. Anyways, tensions were high after the Triwizard Tournament, and when a mob of people ran to leave… they found her pinned to a wall. They did an autopsy and everything. No spell damage, no signs of a killing curse. Just… bruises. She didn't even have a chance to be a real auror."
It must have been a slow death. And no, he couldn't recall any news of an auror being pinned to a wall by a stampede of people. She wasn't fighting, she hadn't been duelling, and she wasn't murdered. It wasn't a noble death that the news could use to make her into a martyr, it was an accident, a casualty that got buried beneath all of the other chaos of someone going to kill an auror. It was oddly familiar. During the first war, sometimes so many people died within hours or days of each other, the Prophet couldn't possibly keep up with the names.
Tonks looked almost unphased, like she'd told the stories so many times it stopped hurting as bad. Or, conversely, she'd spent so long grieving and hurting that she couldn't muster up the energy to even be sad anymore. He also knew that feeling. He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't let him. "Did you know that most metamophmagi usually have some kind of defect?"
"Eh… no. I didn't, actually."
"Yeah, it's such a rare condition, but sometimes it'll fuck you up a little. Always silly stuff, you know? Like accidental magic, but it's your body growing up. Usually it's an arm or a leg that's a little longer than the other, or missing bones… too many bones, things being in the wrong place or shape. It's 'cause we can morph before we're even born and you can't really control it as a kid." Her eyes shifted back to look at him. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were glossy and emotionless. "I always wondered if my heart's too big. They never went looking, so I don't know. But I think I feel things too much sometimes. I couldn't get rid of her things. I can't let go of Sirius…."
"I think it's perfectly normal." Remus said, gently squeezing her hands. Now was his turn to be unable to look at her. "I had something sort of like that. They sat me down when I was a kid and read this long list of things to look forward to when I… changed. I remember one of the symptoms was something like… being more sensative to things? I was only five, and it was far too much to tell a five year old in one day, but I think what they meant to say was that I'd be more sensitive to light and dark, smells, sounds. Anyways, I thought for a decade or so that… I thought I cried too much. Thought I was too 'soft.' I thought I was supposed to be stoic, composed, all while… losing myself. I hated myself for being so weak."
"That doesn't make you weak, if anything, it makes you more human." She blurted out, squeezing his hands back, her rings digging into his hand. She cupped it in hers and picked it up, holding it to her chest. "I think you're probably nicer than most of the humans I've met."
Remus couldn't help but smile. He could feel her breathing, her heart gently pounding in her chest. "You're a pretty close second, then. Too big heart or not."
Tonks took another deep breath, holding this one longer than the last. Her cheeks had begun turning pink. Her grip on his hand relaxed and she looked at his fingers, like she was studying each knuckle on them. They were covered in scars, some big, some small. She was especially interested in one on his middle finger, once a fairly deep gash, now a small bump on his skin. "I know it's going to get better. I just… it's not coming fast enough for my liking."
"It hasn't been a week yet. We didn't have a funeral, these are… tremendous circumstances. It's impossible for you to expect yourself to fully grieve."
She closed her eyelids, holding his fist against her sternum. Her chest was rising and falling slowly, shakily, like she was on the verge of tipping over the edge into crying. "I… I don't know what we're doing." She tightened her grip around his hand. "What are we doing? What are we supposed to do now?"
"You're going to go to work and I'm going to figure out something… We're going to wait for news from Dumbledore. We'll go back to exactly what we were doing before, and we'll look out for Harry now that he doesn't have his godfather."
Tonks squeezed her eyes shut, laughing sourly as tears fell down her rosy cheeks. "You're never going to find a job, you know that? You're just afraid I'm going to think you're a freeloader." She leaned her head down, gently resting her lips to the back of his hand. "I meant about Sirius. I just can't think about his things getting taken, I-I don't have anything of his left. If we can't give him a proper funeral, I want to do something for him."
"The death eaters have had three days to move in–"
"We don't know that."
"We know that it's likely."
"We already know where the house is so we can see it, even if we can't get in. The lights should be on, if anyone's home. Or because we left them on. We can peek in the windows."
"Right, and then what? We get to find out how resistant glass is to killing curses?"
"Well," Tonks cleared her throat, resting his hand back down in his lap. "I'm afraid the longer we wait, the higher the chance of the house being taken over already. You got in right after he died. It's a stretch, but it's a chance, isn't it? Look, if I could drag this out into a ten day recon mission where we use polyjuice and disillusionment potions, sure, I would. Or we could get in and get out as fast as we can. Either Bellatrix has locked us out, or not. I mean, what? Are they all going to dive behind the couch when they see us coming?"
Remus was genuinely beginning to worry that this was a suicide mission. "So that's it then? You're not afraid of… silent, invisible alarms? You just hope we're not blown to bits by stunning spells?"
"The curtains were open when we left–he always left the curtains open. Any sign of movement, we'll leave. We'll apperate." She sounded overly confident in herself. "Honestly, we'll be in and out as quick as we can. We don't know that they're even thinking about the house yet. And if you don't want to go with me, then fine."
He thought of his camera, his small photo collection, and other non-essentials he'd forgotten to get while running out of the house the first time. His class ring. Any of his books. Tonks's books were primarily work related, save for a couple of old fantasy books that hardly kept his interest, and he was beyond bored trying to find something interesting to keep himself occupied. He didn't even have a toothbrush. He had been brushing his teeth with his finger the last three days, and borrowing her toothpaste at that. But was any of it worth dying for? No, certainly not.
She means it, and if I don't go, she's only gong to get herself killed in the process. If I go, I can help her.
Remus nodded slowly. "It's… it's highly unlikely the house is going to be empty. I can't think of anything he owned that might be of true sentimental value."
She nodded shortly in reply. "I would take anything."
There was a long pause.
"I don't care about anything in this bloody house. If it burns down, I wouldn't care, so long as I'm not here when it happens," Remus could hear Sirius saying. "I have nothing to lose."
"Fine, but you're going to feel different if we have to evacuate."
"Evacuate? At least you make it sound like fun."
"I'm serious. We ought to plan for any contingencies. If death eaters find us, if we have to leave–"
"If I die?"
"Yes. I don't care how unlikely it is."
Tonks reached to set down her mug on the table, narrowly avoiding completely dropping it, though it landed with a clank and splashed the remains of her tea. "I ought to go put some real pants on. I'll get the coffee made, and when the sun goes down–"
"Hang on," Remus interrupted her. "We had a plan in case this happened, didn't we? I remember telling Sirius we needed to make a plan in case he died."
She took a shaky breath. "I'm… not sure."
"Right," He nodded. He was really going to agree to her idiotic, ernest suicidal mission. Remus slowly got to his feet. "We'll do reconnaissance. And if we see anything, I'll bring you straight back here myself."
xxx
Remus insisted they pace the block a few times just to see if they saw anyone enter the house. Tonks was nervously fidgeting the whole walk there, biting her nails even when there was nothing to bite. He'd suggested a disguise for her. She'd tried to change the colour of her hair and the shape of her face, but said it hurt too badly, and he had to catch her as she almost fainted. He'd suggested they turn around and go back. She refused.
It was still sticky and hot, even close to midnight. The lights were on inside. The curtains were pulled back, just as Sirius liked to have them, and as far as they could tell, there was no movement inside. Tonks fired a stunning spell at the street lamp to make the bulb go out. They watched from behind the bushes across the street for close to an hour. It wasn't the best spot, but they were sure they hadn't been seen.
Or maybe they had. Maybe this was a trap all along.
Neither of them said anything the whole time, with Remus occasionally pacing again to see if anyone was nearby or watching them.
"We might as well try it," Tonks finally said, glancing at her watch. "The longer we wait—"
"Can we try one more thing?" Remus interrupted. "The portrait. It'll go off when you ring the bell, yes? That's why Sirius always had us just barge in. If we can make her angry, she'll start yelling, won't she? Then we'll know if anyone's home." It was a stupid, stupid plan. All of it. But Tonks was anxious and she was about to run straight into the house and get herself killed, whether he liked it or not.
Tonks didn't look at him. She considered his suggestion, then nodded. He could really see it then, when she went to reach for the doorbell. She was a naive, wreckless auror with too much confidence in the idea that maybe the world wasn't all that bad after all. She was stubborn and stupid and itching for a fight after she was knocked down so hard during the last one. She wanted to do something meaningful, she wanted to walk away from a high stakes fight to prove some sort of point, hold some sort of glory.
But was that really it? This was a girl who'd had migraines from almost getting her head smashed in, whose breath smelled like a shot of firewhiskey that she thought he hadn't seen her take, who had lost someone she loved not much more than a year ago and had now lost someone else days ago. She had no plan, no thought for contingencies.
And she'd have him killed with her.
He'd not exactly had a long list of reasons to stay alive, but one reason was at least that of his own self-preservation.
Or maybe it was because she was too young to die.
"Tonks? Tonks." He reached for her arm and grabbed it, harder than he should have, and pulled her hand back, again, harder than he should have. "Why do you have such a death wish? There's no glory in this! They'll kill us and dump our bodies somewhere and we'll be lucky if the muggles find enough bits of us to open a case. We'll be lucky if they only kill us, and we'll be lucky if it's quick. We can turn around. We don't have to do this."
Her face softened, then became angry at him for grabbing her. "You think I'm doing this for glory? For… what? My own pride? No!"
"I'm having trouble believing you're doing this for any kind of material possessions."
"Maybe I—If we don't go now, we're not going to have a chance to risk it again." she said stiffly. "You came back. You did it, we might still have time—"
They stood completely still, his hand still wrapped around her wrist. Remus glanced over his shoulder. They were still alone. It was Sirius she wanted. She wanted to open the door and find him there, waiting for her. That's what she was trying to find. Still, three days later, she was still in denial.
She loved him, didn't she?
"We should turn back. Come back with me." Remus coaxed.
Tonks swallowed. "We should try." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"It's not worth it. I don't… I don't want you to do this. Please, you're only going to get yourself killed–"
He didn't let go, but her hand moved up to the doorbell, holding it down with her thumb. A horrible whirring noise echoed through the house. Even through the thick wooden door, there was a commotion, but not an audible one. They both reached for their wands, splitting away from one another.
They waited.
Remus could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He wanted to reach out for her again.
There was the same screaming.
No shouting.
No running.
No footsteps whatsoever.
A realization dawned on her.
"Remus, wait, wait…" Her eyes were darting around, her eyebrows knitting together with concern. "He wrote a will. He wrote a will! Oh, Merlin, you were right, you told him to make a plan! Or… at least he said he was going to make a will, I-I don't know."
He wholly believed she was lying. "Tonks, we need to leave, now–"
"No, listen to me," She stepped closer to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. She was smiling, but barely speaking above a whisper. Her eyes were now manic looking, wide and excited. "You were right, you were right! You nagged him, and he really did make his will! I remember! He told me, we-we were drinking… listen to me! He was annoyed at you, but I remember, he said he would talk to Dumbledore!"
"That doesn't mean that he remembered!" Remus grabbed her arm again, looking back and forth at the front door. "Then who's inheriting the house?"
"Does it matter? We know he would never give it over to Bellatrix!" She looked at the door. "We should still hurry."
His heart was still racing. Nothing changed. Nothing moved. "We can still leave–"
Tonks stopped into the house, and Remus followed closely behind her. He kept listening for something to happen, something to change, something to jump out at him, but all he could hear was the portrait yelling at them. "Filth, half-breeds, desecrating my house —" Worse than having some death eater hiding in the kitchen, something in him made him wary that Tonks herself might turn on him.
She wasn't watching where she was walking, and her foot was going to kick the umbrella stand before Remus grabbed her shoulder. Tonks fliched, going to point her wand at him, her eyes still wild looking. Her expression did soften when she saw what he was trying to prevent, but her knuckles were still white around her wand.
It was pointless trying to run up the stairs quietly. There was still no disturbances once they covered the portrait. They both held their breaths, Tonks leaning on his shoulder while listening for any noises.
The house creaked.
They were alone.
"Get whatever you need," Remus whispered, glancing at his watch. "We're leaving in five minutes, even if I need to drag you out of here myself."
"Yes sir," Tonks panted.
She rushed off to Sirius's bedroom, tripping on the steps, and Remus left for his own room. He'd be giving her an incredibly generous three minutes at best. He knew where his books were, his camera, his photo album… It was all a blur as he began tossing things into his bag. He was not planning on ever coming back and anything of his may as well be valuable now. It wasn't until he was sure he had gotten everything that he wondered if the room was this messy when he left it, if he'd made such a disaster on his way out the first and second time he left here in a rush. Nothing seemed to be missing, not even his toothbrush.
He went up the stairs to find Sirius's door ajar.
"Tonks, it's been–"
Tonks' knee was bleeding from carpet burn. She was sitting on Sirius's bed, clutching a maroon t-shirt to her face. She was crying, her face red and wet from tears, the shirt muffling the sound of her sobbing. His room was messy, but no messier than it had been in life, and she seemed to have been drawn to a t-shirt that was on the bed.
Her eyes were puffy. She set the shirt down on her lap. "I'm fine, l–"
"It's almost been five minutes," Remus said. He had tried to be gentle, but he could still hear himself come across too harsh. "Are you–"
"We should leave," She hiccuped a sob, stuffing the shirt in her bag, then looking frantically around the room. "I… I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm looking for."
"It's okay, are you okay?" He walked towards her, shifting his bag awkwardly on his shoulder.
"He's not here," She sniffled. "I don't know why I couldn't believe it, it didn't feel real, I... I don't know… I… I don't know what I wanted from him. I'm so stupid, this is ridiculous–"
"Tonks," Remus walked over to her, putting his arms around her. "You aren't stupid. Not at all." He was lying through his teeth, at least, about her idea to run in the house and hope not to get themselves killed. Who was he kidding? He wasn't sure it would have mattered how stubborn she was being, or if they had been right about the will. He still would have run after her, even if it was a death sentence. He wouldn't leave her here to die alone.
"I'm sorry," She murmured, burrying her face in his chest. "This is a horrible dream. This is going to end soon, isn't it?"
"Yes, it will," Remus said, again, lying as far as he was sure. "Did you find what you needed?"
Her head bobbed up and down.
"Did you find what you wanted?"
She shook her head that time.
He nodded, his chin gently resting on the top of her head. "Are you ready then?"
Tonks nodded again, pulling away this time to walk alone, the shirt still poking out of her bag.
Remus's hands were starting to itch again.
