It was nearing Christmas, and Tonks felt no sense of cheer whatsoever.
Her life had taken a steady downward spiral after that night, and the past five months had done her no good at all. Everyone noticed, and everyone knew why. Even Snape. Even Dumbledore. Everyone.
She hadn't seen Remus in the entire time, hadn't heard from him, hadn't heard much about him — she was rather secluded in Hogsmeade. It helped that she did know that he wasn't corresponding with anyone else, not even Harry.
Tonks, striding through the halls of Hogwarts, searched for the boy and his comrades, but didn't see them. The halls were mostly deserted, as it was so close to Christmas, and those who remained in the drafty castle or had yet to leave for home were bundled up near the fires in their common rooms.
For a moment, Tonks even smiled reminiscently, thinking of her days in Hogwarts, before Voldemort's new crusade, before becoming an Auror, before her troubles with confusing and devastating men…
Tonks shook her mousy brown head briskly and reached the statue in front of Dumbledore's office. "Sugar Quill," she said to it. The gargoyle sprang to life, and Tonks stepped onto the revolving staircase.
As she ascended, she heard the sound of voices. One, as she neared the office, she recognized immediately as Dumbledore's calm, mild lilt. The other was harder to discern, but when she did, she groaned. It was Snape.
The stairway shuddered to a halt, and Tonks found herself in front of the door. She knocked.
"Ah, it must…yes, of course. Do come in, Nymphadora."
Blinking with surprise, she opened the door and slipped in. Dumbledore's office was just as curious and mysterious as always. In contrast, Snape, who by appearances was preparing to leave, looked distinctly out of place.
Tonks nodded to him sullenly, unable to forgive him for the jab at her Patronus. Although they were definitely not close, Snape's penetrating mind had jumped to the correct conclusion that it was Remus as a wolf.
He sneered at her as he approached the office door. "Ah, Miss Tonks. Still wallowing in despair over a man? Well, half a man, I suppose. Tsk, tsk." He showed not a whit of concern on his face as he inspected his long-fingered white hands.
A loathing unlike anything she'd ever felt filled her, and before Tonks could stop herself, she plunged her hand into the pocket of her robes and whipped her wand out, pointing it at his heart, or lack of heart, as the case might have been.
"Don't think I won't do it," she panted. "I will hex you if you give me a reason…if you say one more thing…"
"Not in my office, if you please, Nymphadora. Although I doubt it would be beneficent anywhere," Dumbledore interrupted blandly. "Severus, remember what I've told you. I'd like to have a private word with Nymphadora, if you don't mind."
Tonks was intrigued; Snape merely looked bored and somewhat resentful. He bowed to Dumbledore, smirked at Tonks, and left in a billowing of black cloak.
Dumbledore turned to Tonks, who was grumbling at the door darkly. He smiled at her gently. "I apologize. Severus is…well, he's Severus."
"Yeah, I know," she muttered. "It's okay, we're all used to him. Well, not used to him, exactly, but we – those in the Order, that is – realize he's a snarky git – sorry, Professor, but it's true – and know he's not going to change. Usually we can defend ourselves, or at least ignore him."
"Yet he managed to make a comment that baited you and caused you to lose your temper," he remarked quietly. Tonks blushed furiously.
Dumbledore walked back to his desk. Tonks narrowed her eyes, wondering whether it was her or if he really was limping. His hand was still just as black and shriveled as ever.
"Please, take a seat," he offered, doing so and indicating she should do so as well. She did, slumping back in the comfortable armchair with a sigh. It had been a long day of standing out in the cold doing nothing.
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. He's probably the only person in the world who can do that and not look completely evil, Tonks thought distractedly. Except for me, because I look so pathetic I couldn't frighten a flea. And Remus…
"So, what's this private word about?" Tonks asked bluntly, desperately breaking apart her own train of thought.
Dumbledore smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "I am merely curious, Nymphadora, as to where you are spending your holidays. Will you stay with your parents, or will you accept the Weasleys' invitation?"
Tonks blinked again, dumbstruck. It was odd for Dumbledore to take such an interest in an Order member's affairs. "Actually, I was planning on hiding out in my apartment," she told him, startled into speaking frankly.
"Hiding out?" His voice was soft and not in any way prodding; yet she suddenly felt interrogated.
"Not exactly," she protested defiantly. "It's just, you know, a figure of speech."
Dumbledore leaned forward. "It's merely that I'm surprised, Nymphadora. You're so social — " Tonks checked his face to see if he was being sarcastic; he wasn't. " — that it's almost unnatural for you to remain alone during Christmas season."
Tonks slumped down even further, her face bright red. This was too much. It was enough that he was concerned about her social life; it was enough that Mrs. Weasley was matchmaking; but it pushed the limits when Dumbledore started interfering in her love life.
"Professor Dumbledore, really, if you're talking about…well, it's under control…all right, not control, but it's…it's not something I can do anything about…I've tried, and it's useless…so maybe I'd just better avoid it…"
"Ah, I see," Dumbledore said quietly.
"Professor, not to be rude or anything, but please…it's enough that everyone else is prodding it like a sore tooth," Tonks mumbled. "I don't need…I mean, I don't want…"
Dumbledore chuckled. "An old man's input is not entirely welcome?"
Tonks sighed. "In so many words, yes."
"I understand perfectly, Nymphadora. I admit, it is merely an issue of light concern with me. As I like to say, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Besides, you are barely yourself without pink hair."
Tonks grinned lopsidedly for a moment. "Yeah, I've heard."
Dumbledore paused, surveying her, then continued gravely. "You are not the only one suffering in this, er, relationship, or unfortunate lack thereof."
Tonks bristled. "Don't you dare — I mean, Professor, really, don't tell me that Remus is having a hard time too, because all this is his fault in the first place!"
"Do you know what it's doing to him to have to refuse you over and over when he really would like to say yes?"
She winced. Despite what Mrs. Weasley, and now Dumbledore, said, she couldn't believe that Remus loved her. "Please, Professor, don't. It's…I'd rather not think about it."
Dumbledore nodded. "I concede and accept that you'd rather not speak of it. More to the point of this meeting, Nymphadora, is to inform you that you are officially off-duty for the holidays starting now."
Tonks swallowed hard, barely believing it. "But Professor, I – I was under the impression that I'd have only a couple days off! D'you mean…?"
"You are to have the entire holiday season off, up to the start of the new year," Dumbledore informed her, blue eyes twinkling. "You've done quite enough for us, and you deserve a nice long vacation. A bonus, if you will. Go, relax, and please, try to set your mind at ease."
Tonks looked down, abashed. "I'll try, Professor. And thanks. For everything."
"My pleasure."
Dumbledore saw her out the door and onto the staircase. At the bottom, Tonks wandered into the hallway, lost in thought.
The whole holiday season for a break, when many others would be working the whole time! Tonks felt blessed, guilty, and…
Resentful?
She was. She had nothing left to live for these days except for work, which kept her mind off of…things. She had nowhere to go for the holidays except her empty apartment. The whole season of sitting around in the dark, eating chocolate and feeling sorry for herself, dwelling on memories that she wished had never happened…
"Hi, Tonks!"
Tonks whipped her head around and smiled feebly at Ginny. The smile came out more as a grimace, and Tonks regretted it. "Wotcher, Ginny."
The girl stopped short and stared in obvious surprise. "Tonks! Are you all right?"
No, Tonks thought bitterly. "I'm fine. Why?"
"Oh, it's just…I mean, you're so thin and pale…have you been sick?"
Tonks glanced down at herself. Her hands were white and bony, almost like claws; her robes hung off her nearly emaciated frame like sacks. "I was ill," she lied. "Got the flu from standing out in the cold too long."
Ginny frowned. "But in the summer…" Then her face changed. "Oh," she said softly, suddenly embarrassed, "that."
Tonks stiffened. Did they all know? "What exactly is 'that?'"
Ginny shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I heard you were upset about Sirius…"
Tonks relaxed, closing her eyes briefly. So that's what they passed it off as. "Right, yeah. Well…yeah."
Ginny nodded knowingly. "It's all right, I know you probably don't want to talk about it. Look, I was just wondering, are you coming to the Burrow for the holidays? It'll be great, Fred and George are coming, and so's Bill, and even Professor Lupin is taking time off from wherever he is to come visit."
Tonks bit her lip. She could go and try to change his mind again. But…
"No, sorry, Ginny. Think I have family plans," she lied.
Ginny's face fell; she was obviously disappointed. "Really? Oh, well, our loss, I suppose. But Mum Owled me recently and told me to tell you to stop in as soon as you can. She wanted to talk to you about something."
Tonks winced — she had a good idea what it was that Mrs. Weasley 'wanted to talk about.' "Right. Thanks for telling me, Ginny, and in case I don't see you, happy early holidays."
Ginny flashed her a grin and started off down a corridor. "You too, Tonks. And feel better!"
Right, Tonks thought as Ginny disappeared. Fat chance of that happening.
She figured that now was as good a time as any to visit the Burrow, so she set off toward the castle doors. She'd Apparate once outside the boundaries.
Tonks was almost there when she heard footsteps coming up the hallway ahead. She shrank back into the shadows near a suit of armor, unwilling to undergo another interview with concerned teachers.
The person rounded the corner, and Tonks, panicking, ducked into a nearby classroom. Panting in the darkness, she crept over to the door and peeked out, spying on the newcomer.
Remus strode up the hall, unaware of her scrutiny. As he walked into better light, Tonks couldn't help but gasp. Perhaps Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley were off their rockers; or perhaps not. Something was weighing on him, that much was obvious. His messy, uncombed hair was now half gray and half brown, and he was only thirty-six; his face was lined and hollow eyed; his robes were a mess of tatters and patches. Tonks wanted so desperately to put his hair in order, smooth the cares from his face…
Unable to watch him, she turned her face away and looked down, her lashes brushing against her cheeks. He wasn't for her. He wasn't for anyone, except maybe himself. And because of that, she was only for herself as well. The problem was, she didn't want herself.
Tonks managed to slip by Filch unnoticed and meandered across the green wistfully, thinking about Remus and trying to stop. She was so absorbed in staring at her feet that she walked directly into something large and shaggy.
"Oh, hi, Hagrid," she said immediately.
"Who — Tonks? Blimey, what're yeh doin' here?"
Tonks craned her neck to see the giant man's bearded face. "Talking to Dumbledore. He said I'm off-duty until the new year."
Hagrid's face mirrored his surprise. "Really? Odd. Well, 's lucky fer yeh, eh?"
Tonks shrugged wryly. "Depends on how you look at it," she muttered.
A hand the size of a platter clapped her shoulder, and she thought her spine might fracture from the stress. "Tonks, yeh all righ'?" Hagrid asked seriously. "On'y every time I see yeh, yeh look 's if yeh're 'bout to burst inter tears right on the spot. Is it…" He lowered his voice to a husky murmur. "Well, I know yeh were right upset 'bout him dyin', but yeh know, Tonks, there's a time when yeh've got ter move on…"
Tonks shook her head, averting her eyes. "Oh, well, it's partly Sirius," she said lamely. "Then there's…you know, stuff…I guess the war is getting me down, and I had a touch of a bug before…"
"Oh, that's it? Well then, yeh rest up good over the hols, yeh hear? Can' have yeh gaddin' about sick, eh?"
Tonks felt her eyes tear up at the simple kindness of him. It was one thing to be coddled by Mrs. Weasley and spoken to by Dumbledore, but to have Hagrid look after her when he didn't know the truth…
"Thanks, Hagrid," she managed to whisper. "I'll try. Have a great Christmas, okay, Hagrid?"
"Ah, don' go all weepy on me," he joked. "Here, have this fer the road." He handed her a handkerchief roughly the size of a sheet. "Christmas sometimes does that ter yeh. Enjoy yerself, Tonks." Hagrid disappeared back into his cabin with a wave of his hand.
Tonks stared at the handkerchief, then gave up and scrubbed her face, relenting and having a good cry, right there in the middle of the deserted green.
When she was done, she sniffed and continued down to the gates. It took some effort, but she pushed them open and stepped through. Then, with a step and a turn, she was Apparating to the yard of the Burrow.
Her landing was slightly rocky, and she wasn't quite where she wanted to be in. This was yet another ability she was starting to lose, Tonks realized with disgust.
In no mood to talk about her personal life, Tonks stormed up to the door and rapped sharply at it.
"Who's there?"
"It's me."
There must have been something inimitably dead in her voice, because Mrs. Weasley opened it without asking her questions. "Oh, come in, Nymphadora," she said. Tonks stalked in and flung herself at the table.
Mrs. Weasley watched her, pursing her lips. "Oh, dear. What happened?"
"I'm not Apparating right," Tonks growled. "I nearly fell on my arse and I didn't end up in front of the door, I was at the edge of the yard."
"Nymphadora, you're just distracted," Mrs. Weasley soothed her. "Did anything happen right before you Apparated?"
"Well, I did have a bit of a crying jag…" Tonks admitted reluctantly.
Mrs. Weasley beamed, as if a crying jag was something to be happy about. "See? You were just upset. I'm sure it's not permanent."
"But Molly, I'm permanently upset, in case you haven't noticed," Tonks retorted. "So for all we know, this could be the beginning of the end."
"Tut, darling, you make it sound like the apocalypse," Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Your abilities, except perhaps your Morphing, are absolutely fine. Don't worry."
"Right, right, no worries," Tonks grumbled. "Ginny said you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, yes, I did. Would you like to stay at the Burrow for the holidays?" Mrs. Weasley smiled widely, as she was bestowing upon Tonks a lovely gift.
Tonks turned it down. "No thanks, Molly. I'm, er…well, it's just all right. I wouldn't want to impose on you."
Mrs. Weasley was scandalized. "Nymphadora, I'm inviting you! Of course you wouldn't be imposing! I could think of certain other young women…" Mrs. Weasley trailed off to an angry mutter. "But, well, we won't speak of it. After all, Bill's happy and…anyway, Nymphadora, you simply must come, unless — are you going to your parents' house?"
Tonks shrugged noncommittally. "I might," she said uncomfortably. "It's not really on the agenda, but they said they'd like me to come, so I might end up over there."
Mrs. Weasley's expression took on a pitying cast. "Dear, this isn't about…?" She let the unasked question hang delicately in the air.
Tonks scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably. "No."
Mrs. Weasley took a step toward her. "Nymphadora — "
Tonks didn't want to deal with this again. She jumped up. "Oh, look at the time! Molly, I'll try to come if I can, but don't expect me."
"Tonks — "
But Tonks was already out the door. She didn't even notice the fact that Mrs. Weasley had just called her by her surname. She didn't notice the fact that she stepped right in a mud puddle. For once, she could even ignore the dull ache in her chest. The only thing she was concentrating on right now was —
Step –
Turn –
Home.
"Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-laaa!"
It was Christmas, three days after Tonks so unceremoniously ran away from Mrs. Weasley, the Burrow, and the Christmas That Could Have Been. It was not Christmas morning anymore, it was by now Christmas afternoon. Tonks had just woken up and was now sitting on her ratty old couch in her equally worn pajamas, staring disconsolately at her small pile of gifts and trying to ignore the too-cheerful Christmas carols blaring from her radio. She also tried to ignore visions of the Burrow, which danced enticingly in front of her eyes.
They're probably eating Christmas lunch by now, wearing their Weasley sweaters, tolerating Fleur and talking over her…Remus would be there…I wonder if the kids have realized what's been eating at us…I wouldn't be surprised if Hermione knew, she's just that sharp, although she doesn't go to the Burrow for Christmas…Ginny's a romantic, too…
Tonks growled out loud to distract her from thoughts of the Burrow. "It was my choice. My choice," she coached herself. "Mrs. Weasley can make my excuses. Although I wonder what she's told Remus…I wonder if he's guessed why I wouldn't come…of course he has, he's not stupid…"
Talking to herself out loud, Tonks reflected, was nearly as stupid as thinking about the Burrow. To derail these activities, Tonks started to open her Christmas gifts.
There were six packages, which was far more than she'd expected. Two were from Mrs. Weasley; one from Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was her closest Order friend beside Remus; one from Hestia Jones; one from Moody, which surprised her; and the last small package from Remus.
Tonks was tempted to chuck the last one across the room in a fit of anger, but refrained from doing so, partly because she didn't have the strength or energy, and partly because she was curious. She settled on placing it on her table rather roughly and picking up the Weasley packages.
The first one, as she guessed, contained a care package full of mince pies, cookies, and other delectable goodies from Mrs. Weasley's expansive stores. The second one, she figured as she tore the wrapping off, would be a famed Weasley sweater.
It was, but the sweater somehow made her feel worse than she ever had, and great fat tears welled up and over. The sweater was black, overlarge and with a roll neck, the type that Tonks especially loved. Worked onto the front was a crescent moon with a star dangling from the tip — all in bright pink.
Tonks wiped her nose and pulled the sweater on. It was huge on her, but she didn't mind. She sniffed again and pulled the other packages toward her.
Kingsley gifted her with a large box of Honeyduke's chocolates ("because every depressed girl I've ever met only wants chocolates," his note said); Hestia gave her a potion-making kit ("to replace the stores I took from you when you made me that potion"); and Moody's gift was an apparatus rather like wand armor that could be strapped to one's arm and therefore ensure a safe hiding place for the wand ("maybe you'll stop keeping your wand in your back pocket with this").
Tonks saved Remus's gift for last. There was a small, plain white note attached to the outside of the tiny cube. She detached it and read it.
Dear Tonks,
I'm sorry.
Love, Remus
P.S. Don't ever let anybody change who you are.
Her lips quivered uncontrollably. One tear rolled down her cheek and splashed directly on his name. Brushing it away with one hand, she picked up the box with the other and unwrapped it.
For a moment, her heart stopped. The box she was holding was small, with rounded edges and made of dark blue velvet — and the perfect size to hold a ring.
Tonks shook her head disgustedly. Right, Remus wasn't even sending her letters. Of course he was going to propose. Right.
She steeled herself and flipped open the lid.
It was a ring, but it was a far cry from an engagement ring. It was a mood ring, a real mood ring, far more detailed and accurate than the average Muggle trinket. She'd seen them in a store window and exclaimed over them long ago when on duty with Remus. Odd that he remembered; even odder when she realized it was the one she'd been particularly taken with: silver with a Celtic knot, the colors shimmering throughout the weaving design.
Tonks picked it up with a shaking hand and tried it on each finger of her left hand. She settled on her thumb, her thickest finger; even there it jiggled a bit, throwing her starved condition back in her face.
A pang of guilt stabbed at her. These weren't terrible expensive, but nor were they cheap. Remus had either spent all his own money on her, or had borrowed from Kingsley.
The couch, old but comfortable, was calling her name. Tonks reclined on it, stroking the ring, which had turned black for depression or death. It triggered memories for her, recollections she did not want to revisit but found herself falling into…
"Tonks, welcome to the Order headquarters," Moody proclaimed, sweeping his arm out grandly to encompass Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
Tonks raised her eyebrows, staring around the decrepit mansion. "This is where we save the world?"
"No. That is where we save the world," Moody replied, jerking his thumb outside. "This is just where we plan it."
"Right," Tonks agreed absently, scanning the room. "Where is he?" This was her chance to meet Sirius Black, the innocent but convicted murderer and, coincidentally, her second cousin.
"Haven't the foggiest. Oh, look, here's Remus. Remus, have you seen Sirius?"
Tonks glanced over her shoulder at the newcomer and did a double-take. He was not extraordinarily handsome, yet there was something attractive about his grave, calm face. And Tonks was intrigued by the aura of sadness that hung over him.
"Haven't seen him all day, I think he's hiding with Buckbeak. We've been here for a week and he's still not used to it," Remus answered, watching her with mild interest. He had a very soft, soothing voice.
Moody noticed his expression. "Oh, right. Tonks, this is Remus Lupin. He's the werewolf, but I doubt you'll hold it against him."
Remus raised his eyebrows reprovingly. "Thanks, Alastor."
Moody shrugged. "She has to know, and Tonks is a good kid. Remus, this is Nymphadora Tonks."
She winced. "Please, just Tonks. And I don't care about the werewolf thing. Moody ought to have better manners anyway." She glowered at the old man slightly.
"If I didn't tell you, Remus never would, and you can't have secrets between friends, or people who have to work together," Moody explained seriously. "Even if he doesn't think so, it's better this way, right off the bat."
Remus sighed at Moody and shook Tonks's hand. "Lovely to meet you, Tonks," he said sincerely.
Tonks couldn't help but grin. "Likewise."
Remus smiled back. "I'll go find Sirius for you."
As he strode off down the hall, Tonks felt a funny flutter in her stomach…
Tonks yawned. "God, I need some coffee."
It was her first guard duty. Here she was, hanging around outside the phone booth to the Ministry of Magic at midnight with Remus. Dumbledore didn't expect anything much to happen, but he wanted them there anyway. Tonks was too excited to sleep during the day, but now she was regretting this decision.
Remus was nowhere to be seen, so Tonks sat on a bench, swinging her legs idly. There was no need to act casual; the lot was practically deserted.
"Tonks, where are you?"
Remus's call came from around the bend. Tonks jumped up, took a great running leap…and tripped over a bit of uneven street. She skidded to her knees and swore, loudly and fluently.
"…Tonks?" There was a definite note of amusement in Remus's voice. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," she said, wincing as she sat back. The knees of her jeans were shredded, a look that she didn't mind. She wasn't so fond of the copious amounts of blood, however.
"Tonks?" Remus came around the bend, had one look at her, and was instantly kneeling by her side, fishing in his robes for something. He produced a vial of a viscous-looking yellow goo and popped the cork off. "Here, this'll help." Instead of handing it to her, however, he poured some into his own hand and began smoothing it over her knees.
Tonks turned bright red. "That isn't — ow!" she yelped. It stung sharply.
Remus glanced up, a lopsided smile on his face. "Left to your own devices, you'd stop putting it on."
"Damn right I would!" she agreed, weakly trying to pull away. He followed, smearing the last of it on her left knee.
"That should do it. But here, have this too." Remus handed her a chocolate bar.
With anyone else, she would have felt condescended to, but she knew it was a friendly gesture between equals with him. Their hands met as he helped her up; a funny little something zipped up her arm. "Why?" she asked. "Chocolate is for dementor side-effects, I thought."
"Well, yes, but it tastes good." Remus smiled warmly and walked off, trailing the scent of maple leaves and chocolate…
The night was dark, save for the brilliant light of the full moon. Grimmauld Place was somber and quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were asleep, as were Kingsley and Sirius; Remus was heading toward his abandoned room for his transformation; and Tonks, who should have been asleep, was padding down the halls after him, wearing nothing but a ribbed white tank top and overlarge blue plaid flannel bottoms. She was curious, so curious, and she needed to see…she needed to make sure she wouldn't be afraid…
She paused at the end of hallway, flattening herself against the wall. From her dubious shelter, she heard Remus open the door; close it; bolt it twice; mutter the protective incantations. Then there was silence.
Tonks crept up and peered through the knothole she'd discovered in it earlier. Sneaky, but that's the way things were done.
He stood in the middle of the room, stripping off his robes. A blush heated her cheeks, but Tonks kept watching, needing to know…
Remus had just removed his shirt when it hit. He stiffened, then began convulsing violently, falling to his knees and curling up into a ball. Tonks saw that he was biting his hand to keep from screaming — blood poured down his arm and dripped sickeningly down onto the floor.
In moments, the wolf-shape had fought its way to dominance. Remus stood on four legs, growling, gnashing his teeth, searching for something to eat. He couldn't pick up her scent through the smell of his own blood that still pooled on the floor. With nothing else to do, he lifted his foreleg and bit at it viciously, gnawing as if it were a bone. He snarled in pain but continued, slashing his underbelly with the other paw at the same time. Wide gashes opened, cuts that bled profusely.
Tonks backed away, her eyes filled with tears. So this was how it went: Remus, so gentle and mild, was forced to give up his nature and savage himself once a month. It shouldn't have to go this way…it wasn't supposed to go this way…
"It's not supposed to go this way…" she whispered to the empty room.
Sometimes you wonder
If this fight is worthwhile…