A/N: Before everyone jumps on me with "ZOMG DUMBLEDORE IS TERRIBLY OOC!!", yes, I know. ^_^ I'm not good at Dumbledore. Without further ado…
Three and a half months later, on the morning of Sunday, April 7th, Tonks sat at the counter of the Three Broomsticks, picking morosely at a bowl of cereal and absently scanning the contents of The Daily Prophet. It was more of the same old, same old: death, destruction, everything falling apart into chaos. A bit like her life, if it came to that.
Madam Rosmerta paused in her rounds of breakfast to smile at Tonks brightly, concern flickering in her eyes. "Cheer up, sweetie. You always look like the world's about to end. Knut for your thoughts?"
Tonks sighed. "It would take more than a Knut to encompass those," she said wryly.
"Is it a man that's got on your case?" Rosmerta asked naively, sympathetically.
Tonks clenched her fists. Was she that obvious? "Partly, Ros. Then there's just…well, the stuff."
"Right, the stuff," Rosmerta agreed knowingly. "Right shame, what's been happening in the world lately, but we'll muddle through." She sashayed off to serve the men a couple stools down from Tonks.
Tonks took a final look at the newspaper, then threw it down, completely disgusted.
Dawlish, never a morning person, glared at her blearily. "What's your problem?"
"Nothing," she spat. Not only was her life horrible in every other respect, but she had to work with a man she absolutely couldn't stand. Briefly, Tonks contemplated whether it would be worse working with him or with Snape. No one was worse than Snape, she decided.
"I could ask you the same thing," she continued. "Don't look so cheerful, please, you're overwhelming me."
He let out a shout of laughter. "Hypocrite."
Tonks blushed furiously. She'd walked straight into that one. Shaking her head, she made a point of turning away from him and listlessly stirring her coffee.
The men on the stools were carrying on a heated conversation about affairs in the wizarding world. Tonks had been taught that it was never good to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help it. Either that or argue with Dawlish.
"I'm telling you, if the Ministry doesn't put a stop to at least this, then we're doomed!" one man said angrily. "Our children won't be safe!"
Tonks frowned slightly at her mug. No one was safe in these times. Why would he specifically say children…?
"I agree with you, but the Ministry can't catch him any more than we can. No one can catch him. He's slippery, has an underground system, minions all over the place," the other man argued.
Tonks sat up straighter. They weren't talking about You-Know-Who, she could tell. A new menace?
An old one, as it turned out.
"But Greyback does the dirty work himself…"
Tonks frowned. Greyback…Fenrir Greyback…where had she heard that name before?
It came to her with a jolt. Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had bitten Remus. She'd done a bit more research on him and found out that the sick man targeted children as his victims, hoping to defeat wizards someday. He was vicious, a savage, and capable of murder. She'd nearly forgotten about him. And he was on the move again.
Disregarding her dislike of him, Tonks grabbed Dawlish by the sleeve desperately. "What time is it?"
He stared at her, shocked. "Eleven o' clock."
"Do you know if Dumbledore is up at the castle?"
"Maybe. But we're not supposed to leave — "
Tonks was already sprinting up the lane to Hogwarts, running for all she was worth. Unfortunately, Tonks had never been very good at sports, so she staggered to a walk even before she reached the gates, her face red and her heart pumping wildly. She wheezed in a decidedly undignified manner and walked the rest of the way. This would impress no one.
Filch let her in, glowering suspiciously but unable to think of a legitimate reason to keep her out. Tonks quickly made her way to Dumbledore's office, barely pausing for civility when Flitwick and McGonagall greeted her.
The gargoyle guarding his office leered at her unpleasantly. "Peppermint Toads," she said to it.
It didn't move.
She stared helplessly. "Oh, come on, you old piece of rubbish, I know that's the password!"
The gargoyle sat stoically.
"Come on," she growled. "I look like an idiot."
"I must say I agree."
The silky voice both startled her and infuriated her. "Oh, not you," she grumbled.
"Ever so sorry to intrude on your stupidity," Snape apologized, smiling disagreeably.
"Shouldn't you be teaching class or something?" Tonks said desperately.
His smile widened. "Have you failed to notice that it is Sunday, and therefore there are no classes? As I said, stupidity."
"Oh, shut up," she snarled. "Is Dumbledore here?"
His expression darkened. "No, he is not. He has gone away on business."
"Fine, I'm leaving." She made to leave.
Snape raised his eyebrows at her, blocking her way down the corridor. "Now, wait one moment. What are you doing away from your post?"
"Trying to see Dumbledore; I'd thought that much would be obvious. Speaking of stupidity."
His black eyes narrowed. "What would be of such import that you deemed it necessary to leave your station?"
She was turning red, she knew it. "I…well, I just thought he should know that, er, there's a problem," she mumbled to the flagstones.
"What sort of problem?" he inquired lazily.
She scowled at him furiously. "I don't need to answer your questions, you know, I didn't set out to be interrogated!"
The same mocking smile stretched over his face. "Judging from your reaction, I'd say it must have something to do with Remus Lupin," he remarked. "Tell me, are you still slavering over a silly dream, or have you seen that he's worthless yet?"
I have options, Tonks thought wildly as tears welled up in her eyes. I could slap him across the face, which I'd really like to do. I could cry and run away. Or I could yell at him.
Snape was watching her closely for a reaction. Tonks lifted her head and stared straight into his eyes. "Talk about worthless. At least he hasn't held a childhood grudge for decades, a grudge that's now against bloody dead people." The tears were threatening to defeat her; her voice shook. "Just because you're worthless doesn't mean everyone else is."
She turned and fled.
Right, left, left — Tonks knew exactly where she was going. It could not be called a shortcut, because it was longer, but at least she'd get away from Snape.
Eventually, she calmed down enough to slow to a halt. Her legs were about to give out. She rested for a moment, her hands on her knees, gasping and gulping her breath.
The tears had disappeared in her effort to remember where she was going. Tonks ambled along the corridors slowly, taking the opportunity to gaze around the halls she had walked years ago. Hogwarts was still fresh in her memory, so it was no trouble figuring out where she was.
If I'm not mistaken, I'll be near the Room of Requirement if I turn left here…
She did so, and to her surprise, Harry – at least the parts of him that were visible; Tonks supposed he had on his father's Invisibility Cloak – was standing directly across from the extraordinary room, hopping on one foot and looking extremely aggravated.
"Harry?" she prodded when he didn't see her.
Harry spun and promptly fell over, startled by her abrupt arrival. Blushing, he quickly regained his feet as she approached. "What're you doing here?"
"I came to see Dumbledore," she answered honestly. His eyes flickered over her; he was clearly taking in her starved form and limp hair.
"His office isn't here, it's round the other side of the castle, behind the gargoyle — "
Tonks appreciated how he tried to help without asking questions, but she didn't particularly need to hear this. "I know. He's not there. Apparently he's gone away again," she added bitterly, remembering the confrontation with Snape.
"Has he? Hey — you don't know where he goes, I suppose?" he asked eagerly.
Don't we all want to know, Tonks thought distantly. It was a lie. Frankly, she couldn't work up the enthusiasm to be curious over anything anymore. "No," she replied, fully set to continue on her way.
"What did you want to see him about?" Harry inquired curiously.
Oh, damn curiosity, she thought desperately. Why did he have to ask that?
"Nothing in particular," she said slowly, fidgeting with the sleeve of her robes. "I just thought he might know what's going on…I've heard rumors…people getting hurt…"
Only by saying it did she understand herself. She didn't want to inform Dumbledore of this new terror. She wanted to know if it was true…she didn't want believe it…she didn't want to think that Remus's tormentor was awake after all these years of relative peace. It panicked her, particularly because it concerned Remus, indirectly or not.
Harry was saying or had just finished saying something – Tonks could vaguely recall the word "papers." For the life of her, she couldn't focus on what he was saying.
"The Prophet's often behind the times," she hazarded. From the expression on her face, this wasn't what she was supposed to say.
Hang that. A thought occurred to her. If Remus was writing to anybody, it would be to Harry. Here was her chance to get news…
"You haven't had any letters from anyone in the Order recently?"
"No one from the Order writes me anymore," Harry said frankly, "not since Sirius — "
She barely heard the last three words. So Remus couldn't even find the time to write to Harry, the son of one friend and the godson of the other? She was simultaneously angry at him, worried for him, and glad that it wasn't just her he was neglecting. Against her will, tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
Once more, Harry was saying something that just slipped right by her. It sounded comforting or commiserating, but she didn't know which, or what he was even talking about.
"What?" she said blankly, trying to get a grip. It failed. The best thing she could do now was leave, even though that meant going in the direction from which she had come. "Well…I'll see you around, Harry…"
She walked away from him quickly, leaving him indubitably confused and possibly hurt. She couldn't care, however. That was something she just could not bring herself to do. Not when tears were pouring down her face like rain…
She couldn't go on like this — but she would. Tonks knew herself well enough to accept that she was helpless against grief like this. And love. She was utterly defenseless when it came to matters of the heart.
Tonks sneaked past Filch, who was talking to Madam Pince, and trudged back down to Hogsmeade to continue work duty. More than anything, she just wanted to go home, though "home" was currently a room above the Three Broomsticks.
A very irate Dawlish met her. "What was that about?" he roared.
Tonks shook her head, too tired to defend herself. "I wanted to talk to Dumbledore…" she mumbled.
"So don't we all, but we're not! Get back to work."
Sighing, holding back tears, Tonks complied.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office and thought about the Order.
They were a lovely task force and, perhaps, the most loyal supporters he could hope for, at least if he counted Harry and his "army" as part of the Order, which he unofficially did. Yet, to his mild consternation, there were schisms here and there.
Normally, he did not try to become embroiled in their affairs. They regarded him as their leader and he was perfectly fine with that. They also knew he couldn't attend to them while he was running the school and completing his own secret missions. Sometimes, however, he couldn't help but notice what was directly in front of his face.
For example, Sirius and Severus. They had been incorrigible enemies, and he knew that quite well. Albus had been somewhat concerned that Molly and Sirius also seemed to have had their tense moments, and without a doubt Molly and Mundungus did not get along. Of course, Severus rubbed everybody the wrong way, and Alastor's gruff attitude sometimes annoyed young Nymphadora. On the whole, though, he considered her, Remus, Kingsley, and Arthur to be the steadiest members of the Order.
Until now. For, to his surprise, Remus and Nymphadora were no longer on comfortable speaking terms. Albus would freely admit to anyone who asked that he'd had high hopes for them as a team of two, but never more than a team. It would have pleased him if indeed further romantic bonds had developed between them, especially because Remus lived such a loveless life, but it seemed the man's stubbornness was winning out. Albus was disappointed. They would have been good for each other, her humor tempering his gravity and vice versa, but it was not to be.
Albus sighed. Rumor had it that she had come running to find him a few days previous, and he had a notion of what that had been about. And if he guessed correctly, she would be coming back to see him against her will very soon.
Knock. Knock.
Albus smiled. "Come in, Nymphadora."
She peeked her mousy brown head in, abashed. "How did you know it was me?"
"Oh, just a faint inkling. My dear, when I invited you in, I did not invite just your head." He beckoned. "I sense you have something you wish to talk about."
Nymphadora sighed and edged all the way in, shutting the door behind her. Without asking, she plopped into the chair before his desk. Her face was weary and spent, alarmingly like Remus's countenance. "You're right, Professor. I dunno if you've heard, but I tried to visit — "
"When I was away, yes," Dumbledore interrupted mildly. "Severus told me."
Nymphadora winced. "Did he tell you what happened after?"
"Apparently he did not see fit," Dumbledore answered. "However, if you'd like to recount the tale, by all means do so."
She was silent, as he'd expected she would be.
"Ah," he said softly, "I see. But we are not here to talk about Severus. What is troubling you, Nymphadora?"
"Well – Professor – down in the village, they were – they were saying things," Nymphadora blurted out in a rush.
Albus spoke when she failed to continue. "I'm sure they say many things down in the village, most of them untrue. Rumors spread like wildfire, I'm afraid."
"Yeah, but – but this had a grain of truth in it. And it…it scares me, first of all, nearly as much as You-Know-Who does, and it also…well, it, er, it means more to me than it would to many others…" She trailed off.
"And what is this rumor?"
She squirmed uncomfortably. "It's about…Greyback."
"Ah."
His tone was bland and unquestioning. She elaborated, just as he thought she would.
"Is it true? That he's out hunting again?" Her tone held loathing and disgust, and also a hint of wistful fear.
"I would be lying to you if I said he wasn't." Roundabout answers were Albus's specialty.
Her lower lip quivered. "He is?"
Albus leaned forward. "My dear Nymphadora, though I am well aware of a certain bothersome social situation, I cannot understand why this disturbs you so much. We're all in danger from a follower of Voldemort — " He ignored her flinch. " — but we are in less danger of being bitten than children. The idea of a child being savaged by him is scarcely imaginable, but I am surprised that it would move you to tears."
"Seems like anything moves me to tears lately," she muttered, blinking furiously.
"It is rather distressing to me, Nymphadora, to see such a strong woman such as yourself be so devastated by love," he said softly. "Love is supposed to be a binding force, one that unites us."
"Frustrated love, Professor Dumbledore," she mumbled. "It's a dividing force, one that breaks us."
"And a condition that both of you are suffering."
Nymphadora sighed sharply. "I don't care what anyone says, Professor, I don't think he loves me, and even if he does, this is all his fault, so he can suffer!" she said in one breath.
Albus regarded her sadly. "Oh, Nymphadora. Don't you realize what it's costing him to deny you so many times?"
She slapped her leg, frustrated and impatient. "Then why doesn't he just give in?"
He smiled slightly. "I'm sure that he, Molly, and even you yourself have told you the answer several times over."
Nymphadora slumped, running a hand through her hair. "I know, I know." She hesitated, then plunged on. "How is he, Professor? I haven't seen him in months."
"I believe he is in as decent health as can be expected, considering that he too is heartbroken, and is also suffering the burden of the mission I gave him." Albus sighed regretfully. "I understand how difficult it is for him, but it is a necessary evil."
"But…he's not sending letters…" Nymphadora said slowly. "Does he send letters to you?"
"Monthly, only because he needs to inform me of his progress. They are not leisure letters."
She blushed. "I know," she said softly. "I know we don't have time. I just…oh, I don't know what. I suppose I'd better go. Thanks very much for confirming it, Professor."
"You are quite welcome. And please let Severus in on your way out." He smiled inwardly.
The young woman furrowed her brow and walked over to the door. She opened it. Even from the back, Albus could tell she was glaring violently at the tall, sallow man in front of her.
"Ah, good evening, Severus," he said mildly. "Nymphadora, please close the door on your way out."
Tonks frowned as she shut the door with a not-so-gentle snick. What sort of business did Snape and Dumbledore have together?
Dumbledore had not seen the expression that decorated Snape's face when she'd opened the door. It had fallen away quickly as he'd replaced it with smooth dislike, but Tonks caught of brief glimpse of something unsettling — loathing, resentment, and above all, hatred.
Tonks was lost in her musings as she made her way back to the village. What was that cast on Snape's face? Why would he look like that, especially to go see Dumbledore?
What was Snape planning?
I sense there's something in the wind
That feels like tragedy's at hand…