Part Two – Hiding
But Rosmerta’s words were utterly lost on Remus. All he knew, all he could feel, was the relentless, accusing glare of eyes.
Nobody spoke. Nobody said a word. They didn’t need to. Their eyes said it all.
The light-hearted fun of a moment before had been sucked into oblivion and left only the cold and dark behind. Whatever Rosmerta said, with his drunken exposure by Fergus, he was no longer welcome here.
He had to go.
Pulling his scarf more tightly around his neck, Remus reached for the gloves he had left on the bar. But before he could move more than a step, a hand clamped instantly around his wrist. The dark eyes of Tonks stared up at him with a mixture of confusion and accusation.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she inquired softly.
He was being watched. Eyes everywhere, whispers in the shadows. They were waiting for him to leave. The weight of their distrust almost buckled him.
Hurriedly, anxiously Remus dropped back into his seat and leaned closer to his companion. It was just for a moment. Just so he could explain.
“I can’t stay here, Tonks,” he murmured, his eyes pleading for his wrist’s release. “Not after that…”
The Auror cocked her head thoughtfully. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Fergus the one that just got barred?”
Remus closed his eyes. “Tonks…”
“I’m not going to let you.” The metamorphmagus’s voice was brusque, but there was an unmistakable note of anxiety buried deep inside, a pleading note that shimmered through her voice. “I’m not going to let you run away and hide, Remus Lupin. You’re always doing that and you have to stop. You’re not the problem here and you’ve every right to drink and mess about with a friend in peace. If they don’t like it, sod the lot of them.”
Remus sighed, fingering his scarf uncertainly. “It’s really not that simple…”
“Why is it not?” Remus opened his eyes once more to find Tonks’ stare burying itself into his own. “Remus, how are you supposed to show people how wrong they are if you run off and hide every time some idiot decides to take a pop at you?”
Tearing his eyes away from her gaze, Remus stared absently down at the counter.
“Tonks, perhaps that might have been possible before,” he said, his voice laced with soft bitterness and deep regret. “But everyone here knows what I am, what I can be. The Daily Prophet has made very sure of that.”
Tonks was staring furiously at the ceiling. “But it was rubbish!” she declared from between gritted teeth, fighting to keep her voice to a respectable level to ward off further stares. “Those reporters have their quills stuck up their…”
“Nevertheless,” Remus interrupted quickly before the young Auror chose to get any more graphic. “That doesn’t change the facts.” He lowered his voice. “I am a werewolf. That is the simple fact of my existence. It is a fact that I shall never be able to escape.”
“So why do you keep trying?” Tonks leaned sharply forward. “Why do you keep running away?”
Remus bit his lip. “Because I do not want to be somewhere that I am despised for something that I can in no way help!”
There was a long silence.
The fervour faded from Tonks’ face as she stared at him slowly. Gently, she reached forward and squeezed his hand. Her eyes, green that evening to match her hair, gleamed in the flickering firelight.
“I don’t despise you,” she whispered softly. “I really don’t.”
Remus’ smile, though wan, was also fond. “I know. And I appreciate it.”
Tonks smiled in return, a gentle expression that creased the edges of her cheeks charmingly. “So don’t go.”
Remus stared at her. Nymphadora Tonks was silhouetted by the flickering light of the heath beyond, her green spiked hair glistening like an emerald crown, her eyes dark and intense within the shifting shadows of her face. A metamorphmagus, a walking enigma, forever changing in appearance and yet somehow always managing to remain quite quintessentially Tonks.
And she wanted him to stay. He had spent so many years hiding away, not allowing himself the close friendships of his youth for fear of further heartache and yet now, in the wake of the loss of Sirius, this young woman had stepped up and somehow managed to work her way into his heart. The last of his true childhood companions was gone but true friendship was still in his life, thanks to her blasted determination not to let him wallow.
Or hide away.
She wanted him to stay.
But the eyes still glared. They were waiting.
Slowly, softly, Remus shook his head. “I don’t think I can. I’m sorry.”
To his surprise, Tonks made no protest – she simply reached forward and wrapped both her hands around his. Remus started slightly in surprise as her warm little hands embraced his still chilled fingers but he made no move to pull away. A pair of dark eyes pinned him in place.
“Well, that’s up to you.” She spoke slowly, as though considering every word with care: it made a stark contrast to her usual helter-skelter style of conversation. “But before you go, I’ve something I need to say. Remus, you’re really starting to worry me. You don’t talk anymore.” She shrugged slightly, her shoulders shifting against her robe as she cocked her head and held his gaze. “Okay, you were never exactly a chatty bloke in the first place, but this is different. You’re just keeping everything you think and feel bottled up inside and mate, it’s just not healthy. No one can take that kind of pressure and since Sirius died, I’ve been half waiting for you to blow, to let rip with anger, or sarcasm or tears or something. But you don’t and that kind of scares me because that means the pressure’s still there…” She sighed deeply, chest heaving as her eyes lowered abruptly to gaze down at their joined hands as though to bind them with her stare. “To be honest, that’s kind of the reason I asked you here tonight. I really wanted to you to relax, open up a bit maybe, and even let some steam off. I wasn’t expecting a visit from Fergus the bigoted drunk.” She frowned grimly at the prostrate, snoring figure as she toyed loosely with her companion’s hands, absently stroking her fingers against his knuckles. “I don’t want to butt in if you don’t want me to,” she reiterated hurriedly. “But I can see you going down the same way as Sirius and I don’t think I can stand to watch that again.”
Remus stared at her. “Sirius? What do you mean?”
Tonks met his eyes once more, her gaze intense. “I know you noticed too,” she stated softly, lowering her voice carefully to avoid unfriendly ears. “Sirius and Grimmauld Place – he was going mental in there, prowling around like a caged animal, brooding about Harry and chaffing at being as good as banged up again after all that time he lost in Azkaban. But he never talked about it. He just let the steam build and build until….” Her voice trailed away and she bit her lip.
Remus fought down a cold chill as he remembered the fervour on Sirius’ face that last day, his absolute insistence that he would not be left behind again. Out of Grimmauld Place to help Harry – Remus could see in his eyes that no force on Earth would have made him stay behind. It had been gathering too long inside for him to bear the strain a moment longer.
“He blew,” he whispered softly. “And he died for it.”
Tonks nodded softly. “And I don’t want to see you join him, Remus.” Her grip on his hands tightened almost imperceptibly but to Remus the difference felt vice-like. “I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”
There was a long silence.
The young Auror’s eyes were glistening but she allowed no tears to fall. “I loved Sirius,” she said softly. “He was my cousin and my friend and I wish more than anything that I could have had more time to get to know him. But maybe if he hadn’t tried to deal with all his problems by himself, he might still be here. And I can’t stand to think that the same thing might happen to you. And maybe you hide it better, Remus, but you can’t deny that you’re in pretty dire need of a vent.”
Remus half opened his mouth to respond, but her sharp squeeze of his hands froze the words hovering on his lips.
“No Remus, just let me finish, okay?” she pre-empted him gently. “You’ve been keeping to yourself for months and look what it’s got you.” Leaning forward gently, she pulled down the edge of his scarf to expose the scarred skin underneath. “Scars inside and out that you keep on trying to cover. You’ve got to stop hiding, Remus. You hate confrontations and you hate that people might think badly of you and so you hide from them all so they don’t have the chance. Maybe that’s because you’re afraid of what they might say about you being a werewolf or whatever, but mate – give people a chance. Let them give you a chance. And if they aren’t willing to do that, they aren’t worth knowing.”
Remus cocked an ironic eyebrow. “People like Fergus?”
Tonks ignored him quite deliberately. Carefully she leaned forward, her expression of concern reluctantly forcing away the bitterness of his.
“And Remus – give me a chance,” she said, her voice filled with sudden intensity, her eyes pleading. “You don’t have to hide from me. I know I’m clumsy and a terror to innocent furniture and do daft things with my hair, and I know you said I scare you.” She smiled slightly. “But I want you to understand that if you need to talk to someone, or just want to go out, have some fun and some laughs and forget about the stupid world, you can always, always come to me. Because I’ll always be there. Waiting in the wings with chocolate frogs at the ready and all the butterbeer you can drink without bursting. So come on.” She jostled him slightly, her smile now tentatively crooked. “Tell Auntie Tonks your problems and she’ll see what she can do. I promise you’ll feel better for it.”
Remus stared at her, at the impulsive, wild haired, usually cheerful young woman who was regarding him with such perceptive seriousness and felt a sudden rush of gratitude for her. It had been so long since he had spent time with a friend he could simply talk to, a friend who would listen to his problems and willingly share them; oh, there had been Sirius of course, but considering the burden of grief that had been laid across his shoulders by fate, Remus had not felt it right to inflict him with his own petty-by-comparison concerns. He had forgotten just how much he missed it.
And how much he needed it too.
Her eyes were shining with warmth and life. Her smile was a breath of warm air. Her fingers, wrapped once more around his own, traced gentle patterns against his pale skin.
Cast in patterns of glimmering firelight, her face lingered tantalisingly close. Her lips gleamed as she smiled.
Just a friend?
Against the window, the chill wind howled. It was very cold outside.
And he liked it here. Whatever the glares he received from the locals.
He smiled, gently, tentatively but with considerable affection.
“Where do you want me to start?”
* * *
Midnight chimed. Snow burdened clouds flitted across the gleam of a gibbous moon. The wind howled
“Alohamora!”
With an uncertain creak, the lock holding closed the window to Remus Lupin’s bedchamber sprung open. A gloved hand stretched from snowy skies to pull it wider.
“Careful! It’s a long way down, you know.”
“Yes, thank you Tonks, I can see that.”
“Sarcasm, Professor, is the lowest form of wit.”
“I’d sooner it didn’t get any lower, if you don’t mind. Because it’ll be about six storeys lower if you don’t keep this broom still.”
“Oh, honestly. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“About twenty years in the past. Oh dear Gods, please don’t twitch like that! This isn’t a very big windowsill I’m aiming for and it’s icy!”
“You’ll be fine. That natural werewolf agility and all. Though I must admit you’re the only man I know who can get tipsy on butterbeer alone.”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. Why on earth didn’t you just take me to the door like I asked?”
“Where’s the fun in that? Anyway, you said you were knackered. I was trying to save you from all those stairs.”
“Stairs or a plunge to my death. Quite a choice.”
“Oh just get off my broom and stop moaning. Call yourself a Marauder?”
“Okay, I’m serious now. Just hold it steady…”
“Careful!”
“I’m being careful!”
“Grab onto the window frame!”
“I am! Tonks!”
“That was the wind! Not me!”
“Just don’t…I’m almost…there!”
CRASH!
From the darkened, snow swirled skies, Tonks hunched down on her swaying, wind-battered broomstick against the chill bite of the wind and peered slowly into the unlit blackness of the chamber beyond.
“You know,” she commented thoughtfully. “That was a really silly place to put a vase of flowers.”
The brow, dishevelled hair and utterly unimpressed eyes of Remus Lupin appeared slowly from below the windowsill.
“They were a get well present,” he informed her as he rested one hand against the sill and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. “I had to put them somewhere. I’ll admit I didn’t allow for the contingency that they might someday be in the way when I clambered in through my sixth floor bedroom window after a night at the pub.”
“That was short-sighted of you.” Tonks grinned as she hunkered down into the warmth of her makeshift scarf, a rather odd arrangement of her own extremely over-lengthened hair that she had wrapped around her neck for the cold broom ride to Hogwarts. “Aren’t you going to fix it?”
Remus shrugged. “I’ll do it in the morning. I quite honestly can’t be bothered. I’m exhausted.”
Tonks squinted slightly. “No offence mate, but you look it too. I’m sorry I dragged you out.”
Remus shook his head at once. “Don’t be. I had fun.” He smiled rather ruefully. “For the first time in longer than I’d care to admit, as it happens.”
Tonks smiled back. “You certainly did liven up once I got a few butterbeers down you, even if you were flagging a bit by the end. So…” She settled nonchalantly upright on her broom. “You want to do this again sometime when you’re feeling better?”
Remus smiled sincerely. “I’d love to.”
The young Auror beamed. “Excellent! Well then I will see you soon, Professor Lupin.”
The werewolf gave a small mock salute. “See you soon Auror Tonks. Fly safe.”
Tonks blessed with one final cheeky smile. And then, with an exaggerated whoop, she turned her broomstick in the air and vanished into the depths of the howling snowy darkness.
Still smiling to himself, Remus reached over and pulled the window closed. Sidestepping the broken vase, he stumbled across the room and dropped himself with a groan onto his four-poster bed, wearily peeling off his scarf and gloves as he fought to keep his eyes open. A half-hearted flick of his wand brought the bedside lamp to life.
He wasn’t certain he had ever felt this tired. But it had been worth it.
She had been worth it.
He smiled to himself. Nymphadora Tonks. The woman was a menace to herself and those around her, a riot of ever changing looks, a dichotomy of cheerful good nature and perceptive seriousness, the child of a Muggle born wizard and a daughter of one of the oldest and sternest Pureblood houses in the wizarding world. Her life was walking bundle of contrasts and contradictions of personality, of appearance, of blood. Was it truly any wonder she was born a metamorphmagus?
And yet somehow in her fluid world, she still managed to always be completely and utterly herself.
And staying yourself in spite of the changes of the body and the opinions of the world was something that Remus above all others could respect.
And she returned the favour. There was no art beneath her behaviour, there was no hidden nervousness or conscious determination not to judge. She treated his lycanthropy, not with deliberate tolerance or concealed discomfort, but simply as something that he happened to be. Remus Lupin, brown hair, brown eyes, teacher, Order member, werewolf. Not since the days of the Marauders and those brief years of Sirius’ return had any one treated his condition with such easy acceptance, had dared to make light and joke about it, had simply taken him for exactly what he was and not thought twice about it.
He had not realised just how much he had missed it until tonight.
He had not realised just how much he needed it.
How much he needed her.
Remus shook himself sharply. Just a friend, he reminded himself sternly. Nothing more.
Outside, the wind’s cruel howl had heightened to a scream. Ballistic snow rattled the windowpane.
I hope she’s all right out there…
Wearily, he rose to his feet, struggling awkwardly and slightly painfully out of his thick robes and pulled on his pyjamas. The eiderdown beckoned gently, a contrast to the broken vase of flowers that glistened with wet forlornness against the carpet, testing his resolution to wait until he could gather together more energy to make repairs. His wand glinted resentfully against the bedside table – with a sigh, Remus abandoned his brief sojourn into laziness and reached out to pick it up.
“Reparo!”
The vase sprang together with far too much enthusiasm for such a time of night. Stretching awkwardly, Remus made his way over to the damp patch of floor, gathering up the scattered flowers and replacing them in the empty vase once more. A quick spin of his wand refilled the water.
He started to replace the vase on the windowsill. He hesitated.
You know, that was a really silly place to put a vase of flowers…
He smiled to himself, placed the vase carefully out of the way on a nearby chest of drawers and turned to make his way finally towards the blissful oblivion of soft covers and his pillows.
BANG!
Remus jumped violently, spinning on his heel as a frantic hammering against glass followed the heavy impact that had shaken his window so fervently.
A pale familiar face was pressed shivering and desperate against the panes.
Tonks!
Remus was moving instantly, ignoring the wet squelch beneath his feet as he grasped at the heavy window latch and quickly yanked it open.
Cold air struck him in a blast of searing snow followed moments later by the white-washed form it catapulted with it, head over heels in a tumble mass of wild green hair, flapping robes and battered broomstick that thrust him sharply to the ground. The wind howled with triumph as it surged into the chamber, tossing pictures and loose pages with fervent celebration of its invasion. Struggling hurriedly to his feet against the howling gale, Remus flung himself forward, grasping the wildly flapping window. For just a moment it seemed that the wind would prove victorious in this frantic battle of wills; but then Remus found a sudden surge of strength and with a breathless gasp, he slammed the window closed. A moment later, the latch was dropped and the wind expelled at last.
Papers fluttered in gentle spirals towards the floor. A picture tumbled absently from the sideboard. Gasping breaths provided a rhythmic accompaniment to the roar of the storm.
Remus turned.
Tonks lay sprawled and breathing heavily upon the small rug beside his bed. She was caked from head to foot in snow, her robes tangled, her lengthened hair sprayed and twisted across her face and neck like an emerald web. She was shivering madly, her face deathly pale and her lips almost blue. Her broom, lying abandoned at her side, was bent nearly to breaking point.
And then she glanced up at him and to his utter astonishment, smiled.
“Next time you tell me it’s cold out,” she exclaimed from behind chattering teeth. “Trust me, Remus, I’ll believe you.”