Snow crunched underfoot. Breath misted in the air. Rosy cheeks were all the rage.
Yes, it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Especially because it was.
Not much Christmas spirit about, Nymphadora Tonks thought as she tramped down the empty street, panting from her walk and watching the air come out in little puffs of fog. Not with You-Know-Who lurking behind every happy thought. Still, that doesn't mean there's no Christmas! If I know Grimmauld Place, it'll be rather somber, and I'm just the person to play Santa.
Under her arm was a small mound of gifts, all gaily wrapped in the flashiest paper she could find. The bow on Sirius's present bit; the ribbons that festooned Remus's parcel tap-danced in mid-air. She'd gone all-out to be her cheeriest.
Thinking of Remus's gift, she glanced at it and nibbled her lip. It was at once her worst and best present. The meaning behind it, she conceded to herself, was fairly sweet. But the gift itself…well, it seemed to be sadly lacking something . The only thing positive that could be said about it was that it was homemade.
Tonks wasn't particularly worried. If there was anyone who could see beyond outside appearances and appreciate the true meaning and value, it was Remus. But what if he didn't like it? And Tonks so wanted him to like it.
Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was starting to come into hazy view, swirling in and out of focus through the curtain of snow that was falling. Tonks bent against the wind and pressed on, reaching her destination a few minutes later.
She lifted the knocker and rapped on the door brightly. Mrs. Weasley's disembodied voice floated through the door: "Who is it?"
"It's me, Molly," Tonks called, smiling with anticipation.
"Oh, Nymphadora!"
The door swung open, and Tonks was met with the welcome sight of Molly Weasley's smiling face. "Come in out of the cold, dear," she urged, ushering Tonks in. "You must be exhausted, not to mention freezing. How far did you walk?"
Tonks shook her head casual, waving off the matronly woman's concerns. "Just outside the town, in a little forest I saw once. It's not too far of a hike, and it's not even that cold out. No, really," she added, in answer to Mrs. Weasley's skeptical expression.
Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips but did not pursue the subject. "Well, if you're all warmed up, let me take your coat, and come out to the kitchen for a spot of something to eat."
Tonks grinned mischievously. "Before that…" She handed over one of the parcels. "Only a day late, too. Sorry I missed the celebration last night, but family, you know?"
"Oh, you're too sweet, dear," Mrs. Weasley beamed. "You really didn't have to."
"But I wanted to," Tonks contradicted merrily. "You've been a miracle, Molly, just thought I could return the favor. Besides…I've made it my own duty to bring some sense of sparkle to this dustbin." Tonks gestured at their surroundings.
Mrs. Weasley's smile faded a bit. "That's quite a job you've taken on," she commented wryly. "This place is near dead. I doubt anything could cheer it up. Come, to the kitchen, you still look something chilled."
Maybe the times were a little grim, with Voldemort on the rise, but that didn't mean they had to be entirely bereft of Christmas cheer, Tonks reasoned to herself. Of course, Sirius hadn't been much of a sport lately, and Remus, with his quiet manner and gentle demeanor, wasn't one for rowdy carousing.
Speaking of which…
"Where is everyone?" Tonks asked as they entered the kitchen.
Mrs. Weasley shook her head briskly, her lips pressed together in a thin line, clearly expressing her displeasure. "Sirius is already sulking about Harry having to leave so soon," she snapped, obviously fed up with the man. "The children are upstairs. Arthur's at St. Mungo's, of course."
"And Remus…?" Tonks persisted, turning inexplicably pink.
Mrs. Weasley shot her a curious look. "Outside," she replied slowly. "In that poor excuse of a backyard. I told him he was mad, of course, but he said he felt cooped up and wanted to breathe in the fresh air."
Tonks smiled to herself. That sounded like Remus. But…
"This place has a backyard?"
"Strange, isn't it?" she agreed. "I think Sirius has forgotten about it, though, and we don't like to remind him. You can only find it if you go through a specific back door. The far right one, if I remember correctly."
During this exchange, Mrs. Weasley had cooked up both a plate of toast and kippers and a mug of tea, with the steady aid of her wand. "I'll run and get Sirius and Remus, if you like," she offered, already halfway out the kitchen.
Tonks nearly choked. "No!" she coughed, her eyes watering. "I mean, you can get Sirius if you like, but if I'm going out again, I'll just give my gift to Remus outside."
Not terribly suave, as it were, and Mrs. Weasley seemed to guess more than Tonks would have liked her to. The older woman's eyes lit up, and her face took on a delighted cast. "Oh, I understand. You're right, it's – er – well, we shouldn't interrupt Remus's time outside," she finished lamely. "After all, the poor dear gets so little time off. After I call down Sirius, you should go out to Remus anyway to tell him I'm fixing up a snack."
Her cheeks atrociously warm, Tonks ducked her head and nodded. "Thanks, Molly," she mumbled, embarrassed. She'd thought her affections for the older man were a secret. Not anymore.
Tonks busied herself away from these thoughts until she heard the steady thumping of a grouchy man's footsteps and Mrs. Weasley's voice chattering at him with shrill anger.
"…can't see why you won't bother to put a smile on your face for even a moment!" Mrs. Weasley finished, huffing a displeased sigh.
Sirius, his handsome, if wasted, features filled with annoyance, nodded brusquely at Tonks. "Morning, Tonks. Happy Christmas."
"Wotcher, Sirius," she greeted him, smiling. For all his current surly mien, Tonks was truly glad to see him, as always. It was nice to have been reunited with her famed estranged relative.
"Here, have a present," she added, tossing his bounty across the table and watching him open it with nervous apprehension. She hadn't been exactly sure what to get him, so part of it was thoughtful, the other a gag gift. It was dangerously close to pushing the limits, though…
"Oh, thanks," he said, his eyes shining like a young boy's as he surveyed a basic bird-grooming kit and currycomb for Buckbeak. "Hagrid must have helped, right? And…"
The second part of the gift fell onto the table — a book, rather plain and unremarkable. Frowning slightly, Sirius picked it up and read the cover. An expression of suppressed amusement crossed his face, and he barked out a laugh. "'The Life and Times of Sirius Black, Convicted Murderer,' by B.S. Fibb? I hadn't known I had a biography out there. I never authorized one, either."
"I thought it was fabulous," Tonks informed him wickedly. "Particularly the chapter about you being passionately in love with Lily."
Sirius chuckled again. "Thanks, Tonks. This'll be a good laugh. Ah, that reminds me, I've got something for you upstairs. I'll run up and get it, but don't wait for me, I need a word with Harry."
"Sirius, we're going to eat soon anyway — !" Mrs. Weasley called after him, frustrated. Too late: he was gone.
Mrs. Weasley shook her head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Men!" under her breath.
Tonks patted her arm. "It's all right. This'll give me a chance to go give Remus his gift, anyway."
Mrs. Weasley turned away, busying herself at the counter; Tonks was sure she'd seen a knowing smile flit across her face. "Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley murmured absently, "you'd best go do that now before Sirius comes back down."
Tonks opened her mouth to retort, then closed it in defeat and wandered out of the kitchen to the back of Grimmauld Place. No one ever came back here — the dust lay in an inch-thick carpet all over the place, save where Remus's footprints had disturbed it. Tonks followed these to the correct door and paused. This seemed strange, somehow, and almost rude to disrupt what must certainly be his special place.
But, on the other hand…they would be alone…
Tonks pushed open the door.
Mrs. Weasley was correct in saying that this could barely pass as a garden. It was a bleak square; Tonks doubted whether she could take seven paces in any direction. Pitiful, dead flower stalks poked up at random through the grayish snow. The wind skirled a little more harshly, the snow flitting down in its wake. At the back, just in front of a stark, forbidding stand of trees, was a cold stone bench. And on the bench was Remus, hands in his shabby coat pockets, his face pensive as he gazed at his knees.
As always, Tonks's breath hitched in her throat at the sight of her Order partner and close friend. Wish we were closer…wish I could think that he felt for me this odd bubbly feeling that I do…
More than just puppy love, Tonks had long since decided. A love that could truly last. But it would never be started. He'd never let her in. Besides, she hadn't exactly let on that she fancied him.
The door swung shut behind her. Remus looked up, alert, then relaxed and smiled warmly when he saw her. "Happy Christmas, Tonks."
"Wotcher, Remus," she greeted him, delirious joy at the sound of his voice coursing through her. "You look cold." She walked across the bare expanse of yard and sat beside him.
He shrugged agreeably. "You know me. I'm always cold."
Tonks grinned bracingly. "Well, I know exactly what will warm you up. Besides chocolate."
Remus laughed, and Tonks did as well in her satisfaction to see him laughing. He didn't as much as he should — he never had much to laugh about. It was special when he did, and even more special when she was the one who had made him laugh. It said a lot about him, that Remus could make her happier simply by laughing than anyone else could by doing anything else. Anything.
"What is it?" he asked, a smile still lingering on his face.
"Presents!" she exclaimed. "Well, a present. It's — well, all I'm going to say is, please don't make fun of me, Remus. It's a bit hideous, but…well, like they always say, it's the thought that counts."
His face grew serious. "Tonks, you know I'd never make fun of you. I hope you know that, at least."
Tonks nodded, suddenly abashed. "I did. I do. Just…well, I'm just worried about how far your consideration extends. This gift does stretch it, I'll admit."
"I'm sure I'll love it," he told her firmly as she handed over the package. Upon seeing it, his eyes shone with amusement, the laughter lines at the corners deepening. "I like the wrapping. Especially the ribbons."
Tonks snorted. "Sirius's it."
Remus shot her a half-smile as he carefully, slowly, gently detached the wrapping paper from the box it concealed. He opened the lid. And —
"Oh, Tonks, it's incredible," he said softly, staring down at the contents.
It was a scarf, a very warm and very cozy scarf, knitted in the Gryffindor colors of red and gold. The part that made it so unsightly was that she'd knitted it herself. Tonks's version of knitting was, like all other things, decidedly different.
But it had a story behind it. At one point in idle conversation, Remus had told an anecdote about Sirius tying a hangman's noose and pretending to strangle James Potter with his Gryffindor scarf. However, the knot had gotten stuck, and no one had wanted to risk hurting James by severing it. Neither had they wanted to answer to a teacher. They'd ended up ripping the scarf nearly to shreds.
"I always rather envied them their scarves," Remus had finished, laughing a bit. "My family never really had the money, and no one in my family was a great hand at knitting."
For some reason that even she could not explain, Tonks rapidly grew obsessed with the idea of knitting Remus his very own Gryffindor scarf, nineteen years after his graduation. He hadn't even hinted that he wanted it particularly, he'd never asked for it — yet Tonks felt instinctively that it was something he should have.
Tonks shrugged, pleased with his reaction. "I remember you said you never had the money to get one when you were in school…well, at least you have one now! Even if it is a bit wonky. And you are always cold."
"I can't believe you remembered that," he said, nearly speechless.
She wagged her finger at him in playful reprimand. "I may be clumsy, but I'm not forgetful."
"No, you're not." Remus stared at the scarf with wondering eyes (just the color of caramel, Tonks had determined) and held it up, examining the messy stitches and lopsided rows, but not seeing them for their faults.
"Go ahead, put it on," Tonks said, suddenly, unaccountably shy.
Remus complied, draping the scarf around his neck, wrapping it around twice, and letting the spare flop down the front of his jacket.
"Dashing," Tonks teased. "You look like a schoolboy."
Remus smiled ruefully. "Speaking of making fun of each other…"
Immediately contrite, Tonks apologized. "Sorry, Remus."
"I think I would have been disappointed if you hadn't said something like that. And if you hadn't, Sirius most certainly would have, and he would have been quite a lot less kind. He still will." Remus smiled at her pleasantly. "I'd much rather be called a dashing schoolboy than a has-been, which is what his comment will probably be."
Tonks perked up again. He was so skilled at raising her spirits. That was why she loved him.
Remus's expression brightened. "I nearly forgot, I have something for you too." He produced a small, flat parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. "It's nothing like yours, of course, but I thought you might like it."
Tonks accepted the simple present with trembling hands. Uncharacteristically, she took her time unwrapping it, untying the cord and smoothing the brown paper. She had the irrational urge to save the items for future recollections.
She was left with a beaten red velvet box, a little larger than a pack of Muggle playing cards. Pausing, she glanced, out of habit, at Remus.
"Open it," he whispered encouragingly.
Tonks flipped open the lid.
Inside lay a most beautiful silver necklace. The chain was fine and delicate, intricately linked as chain mail. The pendant was round and hammered flat. Etched into it was the outline of a wolf, howling at the moon.
"It's a family heirloom," Remus murmured in her ear, looking at it with unreadable eyes. "Passed from my great-grandmother to my grandmother to my mother. And then she gave it to me. Oddly prophetic, in a way. As it's silver, I couldn't wear it if I wanted to, but somehow…I wanted you to have it. I thought you'd like it." He smiled softly. "Something to remember me by, at least."
"Oh — " she squeaked. Not dignified, but the best she could manage, as all the air appeared to have left her lungs. The necklace was something she'd never think to ask for from anyone, not just him. Yet somehow, it was perfect. It seemed that the wolf and the moon were now inseparably part of her own life.
And he was parting with a legacy, something that had been in his family for four generations. For her. Almost like he was saying…she was family? That he wanted her in his life, forever and always, as his family?
It was the best Christmas present she'd ever received.
Remus was watching her closely, worry clouding his ivory features. "Tonks? If you don't want it, that's fine, I didn't know if — "
"Remus!"
Tonks was an impulsive person, and so she acted on the impulse that seized her. Before she could exactly comprehend what she was doing, Tonks had flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
As is always the case with such spontaneous deeds, the full consequence of her actions hit Tonks. She released him with such haste that she nearly fell off the bench. Snow stung her fiery cheeks.
Remus was very pink as well, but didn't seem entirely displeased. Neither, however, could quite think of anything to say after that fantastic act, and so they merely sat, blushing at each other. Occasionally they cleared their throats uncomfortably.
Tonks was beginning to think her head might explode and was warm enough to contemplate taking off her coat when Remus spoke.
"Thank you, Tonks. For the scarf, and…"
He trailed off. A faint glimmer of hope prickled inside Tonks. "It was no trouble," she said quietly, staring at her hands. "No trouble at all."
Remus followed her eyes with his own and stopped when they reached their destination. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Tonks," he started conversationally, "why aren't you wearing any gloves?"
She focused on her hands for the first time and noticed that, indeed, they were alarmingly chapped and raw. "Oh," she said blankly, "I suppose I forgot my mittens at home. I was in a bit of a rush and…forgot."
Remus smiled, the awkwardness cast aside. "You're not forgetful, are you?"
Without further ado, he picked up her hands with his snugly mittened ones and chafed them, rubbing the life back into them. Tonks blushed again and stared at the curiously tender motion, transfixed.
"Remus — " she began, her voice shaking.
"Shh," he hushed her gently.
Tonks bit off her sentence. She suddenly understood: a moment like this didn't need speech. You couldn't talk if you truly wanted to keep the moment. Conversation would ruin it, cheapen it, bring up the questions and answers that could tarnish it. It was best to just sit and let it happen, let the snowy silence fill them outside and inside and around and overflow into a big cocoon of the two of them all alone in a tiny space that was at once too large for them and too small for everything she was feeling in her heart…
And so her train of thought went, carried on perfect little tracks of contemplative love. It lasted at most a minute, maybe only thirty seconds. But everything she thought she'd known before was now cemented firmly into her heart and head.
But this was only what she felt. After all, how could she ever assume that dear, inscrutable Remus was thinking the same things? He was always so clever at hiding what he truly thought. She, Tonks, had indubitably revealed her affections for him. Someone like her did not go around kissing their "friends" on their cheeks.
When it came down to it, though, his ministrations on her hands meant nothing. Kingsley, Sirius, even Arthur Weasley might have done the same thing for her.
She was still nowhere.
"Better?" Remus asked, his voice cheery. He'd stopped.
Tonks nodded gratefully. "Much." She flexed her fingers, working out the stiffness in her joints. "Thanks for that, Remus."
"It was the least I could do." His voice betrayed nothing, his eyes even less so, his smile no different than ordinary. A faint feeling of disappointment filled Tonks, but she disregarded it.
Perhaps they would have ignored what had just happened. Or perhaps one would have brought it up. They never had the chance.
"Remus, Nymphadora!"
Mrs. Weasley appeared at the door. "Come in for a cup of tea? You've been out long enough. We'll wait for you." And she disappeared inside again.
Tonks stifled a snort. "I think that's an order."
"So do I, and I'm not willing to risk Molly's motherly wrath," Remus said wryly. He stood, walked a pace, then glanced back. Tonks hadn't moved, only watched him, a smile curving up her lips. She loved to watch him.
Remus extended a hand. "Coming?"
Tonks stared at it for a moment, then slipped her hand into his, allowing him to draw her to her feet. "Yeah," she answered, "I'm coming."
The best gifts were not pretty silver necklaces in antique velvet boxes, however perfect that was. The best gifts were the simple ones: her lips on his cheek, the rough warmth of his mittens, snow on blushing cheeks, the feeling of his strong hand wrapping around hers. Whatever happened to the necklace, those were what she'd always remember when she thought of this Christmas.
Still smiling, Tonks followed Remus inside.