Be the Light in My Lantern, chapter 8

[starfishstar]

BE THE LIGHT IN MY LANTERN

Summary: In which Remus and Tonks fight battles, arrest criminals, befriend werewolves, overcome inner demons and, despite it all, find themselves a happy ending. A love story, and a story of the Order years. (At long last, my Remus/Tonks epic, which has been years in the making!)


Chapter 8: 'Tis the Season

God rest ye merry Hippogriffs
Away ye need not fly
For on this jolly holiday
You'll get a Christmas pie

– Traditional

Sirius said nothing when Remus finally made an appearance late the next morning, looking bleary-eyed and ever so slightly deranged. But not the good kind of deranged, Sirius reflected ruefully.

Sirius said nothing about the fact that Remus suddenly seemed to have urgent business keeping him away from London almost constantly.

He said nothing whenever Tonks dropped by, looking hopeful but pretending to be cheerfully oblivious.

He said nothing, even though it was getting to the point where what he would most like to do would be to knock both their heads together.

There was an important meeting at the house in early December, attended by almost everyone in the Order, although Remus, of course, managed to be out of the country at the time.

Hagrid was back from the giants, looking significantly worse for the wear, but stubbornly believing there might still be hope. Snape reported that Voldemort still believed he could use others to retrieve the Prophecy for him, and Arthur, Kingsley and Tonks agreed to redouble their lookout for anyone at the Ministry who might have been put under an Imperius curse. There had been a couple of suspicious incidents, first with Sturgis Podmore, then with an Unspeakable called Bode.

McGonagall, when asked how things were holding up at Hogwarts under Umbridge's influence, went icy and still, only her nostrils flaring in a way that any Hogwarts student past or present could have warned Dolores Umbridge meant, quite simply, "Run, NOW!"

Moody suggested increasing Order presence in Hogsmeade and Dumbledore nodded his agreement. Kingsley proposed a few possible reconnaissance missions, but by that point Sirius had tuned out entirely – he wouldn't be going on any of those missions anyway.

Molly took him aside after the meeting to say she would like to invite Harry to their house for Christmas and was that all right with him, but it didn't sound all that much like a question. Sirius ground his teeth and agreed that of course it was for the best.

After everyone left, he walked alone through the enormous house, kicking at the furniture.

The idea of mistletoe didn't come to Sirius until a couple weeks later, and he whistled to himself as he hung up a sprig in the kitchen doorway. It was one of the few useful things he could do.

– – – – –

Remus could hardly believe he had good news to bring Dumbledore for once. It did help to make it worth it, all these months of travel and uncomfortable conditions and even more uncomfortable companions.

He'd been cavorting with werewolves, as Sirius so glibly put it, most full moons over the last half-year. But as he travelled, he also looked up people whose names other Order members gave him, acquaintances and contacts they thought might be sympathetic to their cause. Mostly he received two types of response: They didn't believe Voldemort had returned, or they believed it all too well and were too scared to want to do anything about it.

It was not highly rewarding work.

But now he had met two werewolves – admittedly, two werewolves were not going to turn the tide of the battle, or really affect much of anything at all, but he could bask a little in this rare success, couldn't he? – who believed Voldemort was back, had heard he was recruiting werewolves to his side, and wanted none of it.

These two had chosen to live undercover among humans, rather than as part of a pack, which meant their influence with others was limited. But they'd promised to do what they could to spread the word that there were some on the resistance side willing to accept werewolves, and in exchange Remus had promised them safe harbour in London should they ever need it. That Voldemort might deal harshly with any Dark creature that chose to openly defy him hung heavily in the air between them, though none of them said it outright.

So Remus allowed himself an indulgent moment of enjoying his small victory.

He ducked into a secluded alley on his way back to Grimmauld Place to send a Patronus to Dumbledore – they had all agreed to use this particular type of communication as sparingly as possible in and around the house, to avoid drawing attention to their location – then waited patiently until a response swooped in and found him in the form of a silver phoenix.

"Good work, Remus," the Patronus said in Dumbledore's voice. "Perhaps you could come up and see me tomorrow, if you have the time."

Remus smiled deprecatingly at himself, to see how praise from his former headmaster still warmed him just as much as it had when he was a boy. Well. Perhaps they were all still children at heart, hoping someone would step in and save them from this war.

He shook off those unpleasant thoughts and turned his steps towards Grimmauld Place, still feeling lighter than he had done in months.

– – – – –

Tonks jerked awake and kicked away the tangle of bedclothes, on a weekday morning that was supposed to have been her one day off after a weekend shift at the Auror Office. Moody's raven Patronus had got in through the window and was cawing insistently at her.

"What –?" she mumbled.

"Arthur Weasley injured on guard duty, but now in stable condition," the raven informed her in Moody's brusque tones. "Would you come to Headquarters and help me escort his family to see him at St Mungo's? Noon today."

"Unghhh," she groaned out loud. If he was asking her to help with Order business on a weekday, then Moody clearly knew it was her day off. But she sent off a semi-coherent reply and gave up on sleep for the day.

By the time she arrived at Grimmauld Place, around noon, Tonks was feeling more cheerful about the whole prospect. Seeing all the kids again, sooner than expected! And an opportunity to needle Sirius about being an old curmudgeon, that never went amiss! And maybe Remus would have finally decided to stop hiding from her and would be there today!

Yeah, right.

Well, anyway.

She hardly recognised the Sirius Black who answered the door, because he was grinning. Not just smiling, not even sardonically smirking, but well and truly grinning his head off.

"You look like the cat that's got among the pixies," she teased as she stepped into the entryway. "Could it be you're pleased about something?"

"'Tis the season, dear cousin," he replied, refusing to let his spirits be dampened. Then he kissed both her cheeks and bounced off again, belting out a rather non-traditional carol.

Tonks shook her head in amusement and cast round for somewhere to hang her winter cloak, all while avoiding the accursed troll's leg umbrella stand that she managed to trip over approximately every second time she visited the house. She glared in its direction now, hoping it would understand that its presence was unwelcome. She ought to remind Sirius to throw the dratted thing out.

"Tonks!" chorused two voices, and Ginny and Hermione came clattering down the stairs, dressed in Muggle jeans and t-shirts. Belatedly, they remembered to stifle their voices and cast guilty looks at Mrs Black's portrait, which thankfully slumbered on.

Tonks hugged them both in turn, amazed at how fond of these kids she'd grown just over a few weeks in the summer.

"You're our escort?" Ginny asked, her excited whisper not all that much subtler than her shouting. "Hey, maybe you can teach us that Disguising charm you were talking about before term started –"

There was another knock at the door, and Tonks went to let Mad-Eye Moody in, just as Fred, George and Ron came barrelling down the stairs, making frantic hand gestures in lieu of a verbal greeting.

"Surrounded by your fan club already, I see," Moody grumbled, but even he was smiling, seemingly infected by the Christmas cheer. He was wearing the sinister old bowler hat, pulled down low to cover his magical eye, that he persisted in believing made him look inconspicuous, even after years of Tonks telling him otherwise. Fred and George wrung her hand, then Moody's.

Harry appeared on the stairs last, looking pale and drawn. "Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks called up to him, but he only nodded.

Molly emerged from the kitchen, her perpetual haunt, and Sirius turned up again to see them off.

"Are you sure about that hair, Tonks?" Moody asked as they all pulled on their cloaks, casting a doubtful glance at the short pink spikes she'd lately decided were definitely her favourite.

Even Hermione couldn't suppress a grin, and Fred and George chuckled outright.

"What's the joke?" Moody asked testily.

"Your hat, Mad-Eye," Tonks told him, as she'd done perhaps a thousand times before. "If anyone on the Underground is going to be staring, it'll be at you and that ridiculous thing you insist on putting on your head. Not at me having hair like lots of people they pass on the street every day." The kids chorused their agreement.

"Fine then," Moody muttered. "Out you go." And he waved them all through the door and down the street.

On the Underground, Tonks wedged herself in next to Harry, who still looked ill at ease. She was hoping to cheer him up, or at the very least badger him enough to distract him, but that turned out to work about as well as it generally did with Sirius, which was to say, not very. Like godfather, like godson, she thought and gave it up, moving ahead to lead the group out of the Tube station and figuring maybe she could try Harry again later.

At St Mungo's, Arthur was looking extraordinarily chipper for a man who'd just nearly been murdured by an evil wizard's snake. His family was delighted to see him, though the twins, of course, immediately took to pressing their father for details on the attack. As an only child from a quiet, reasonably polite family, Tonks always enjoyed being swept up in the small circus that was the Weasleys.

But once Molly had shooed her children back out to the corridor and invited Tonks and Moody in to join her with Arthur, the conversation took a serious turn: How could Voldemort's snake possibly have got into the Ministry? And why send the snake in at all, when his ultimate purpose was to steal a Prophecy?

"I reckon he sent it as a lookout," Moody said, then dismissed that question in favour of more serious matters, such as why Harry was suddenly receiving visions from within the mind of Voldemort's snake.

"Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning," Molly put in, looking more than a little worried herself.

"'Course he's worried," Moody retorted. "The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. Obviously, Potter doesn't realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him, he's in more danger than even we thought."

"That's impossible, Alastor," Arthur interjected. "How and why would You-Know-Who possess Harry when he's in London and Harry's at Hogwarts? Besides, it doesn't quite seem like possession, but almost the other way round – the snake wasn't accessing Harry's mind, Harry was accessing the snake's."

"I don't know how You-Know-Who does what he does," Moody replied, "but there's something sinister to it."

"Maybe Harry just had a vision?" Tonks suggested. "You know, the same as any Seer might, and it was only chance that what he saw happened to involve You-Know-Who?"

"Unlikely," was all Moody said to that.

"I hope Dumbledore has some kind of plan about this," Molly fretted. "If You-Know-Who is somehow entering Harry's mind from so far away… Well, he's not really safe anywhere, is he?"

"Don't worry, Molly," Arthur soothed, reaching out his uninjured arm to pat his wife's hand. "You said Dumbledore didn't seem surprised when he heard about this – and that means he's got a handle on what's going on. Let's just wait until we've heard what he suggests."

Molly nodded, though reluctantly. "I suppose we should let you get some rest," she said, gazing down at her husband.

Tonks tugged on Moody's sleeve until he finally noticed her rather unsubtly gesturing that the two of them should step out to the corridor and let Molly have a last few minutes with Arthur alone. Moody was one of the best Aurors, well, ever, as far as Tonks was concerned, but he could be sort of rubbish at interpersonal things.

As they rattled back through the tunnels of the Underground, Molly put a motherly hand on Tonks' arm. "Thank you, dear, for taking the time to see us to the hospital," she said. "I appreciate it very much."

"Oh," said Tonks. "Well – of course."

"Why don't you come by for dinner some evening, now that we're staying at Grimmauld Place again?" Molly suggested. "We'd all love to see you."

Tonks blinked, wondering if she'd imagined that there'd been a particular emphasis on the word "all," and just how much Molly suspected. Oh, and incidentally whether there was any aspect of her personal life at all that would remain private under the watchful eyes of the Order.

– – – – –

Remus watched Sirius, in the days leading up to Christmas.

Remus had eventually run out of pretences for staying away from London, not to mention being dogged by a guilty conscience that said running away was not now nor had it ever been the most effective way to handle a difficult situation.

So he came back at Grimmauld Place, where the house was suddenly bursting with life again as it had done during those first weeks over the summer.

Molly was partly right, Remus thought, as he watched Sirius joking with Harry, the latter handing up Christmas ornaments to where the former was perched precariously on a chair on one of the stair landings. There was undeniably a way in which Sirius took Harry as a replacement James, a new mate to fill the hole left by the old one.

And yet anyone who knew Sirius could tell he never forgot for a second who Harry really was, or how much Sirius felt he owed him for the lost parents, the unhappy childhood, all of it. It made Remus ache to see how badly Sirius wanted Harry to be happy.

He's so strong, Remus thought. Stronger than I am. All those years in Azkaban, and still he manages to come back and just want to make us all happy.

Remus, on the other hand, had never mastered the favourite uncle role the way Sirius had done. His own interactions with Harry were more reserved, more teacherly. And that was all right, it was how Remus was. But sometimes he couldn't help taking it as a reminder – here, surrounded by children and Weasleys – that he himself could never be a parent, a father, a favourite uncle. It was his lot in life, by nature of his condition, to be always somewhat on the outside of things.

– – – – –

Sirius watched Remus, in the days leading up to Christmas.

Not all the time, of course. Most of the time he was distracted by jokes with the kids and practical interactions with Molly, as the two of them found themselves running a strange sort of joint household.

For once Sirius was too busy to brood, but he still noticed, as the daily life of the Order took up quarters with them again and half-abandoned 12 Grimmauld Place transformed back into bustling Headquarters, the way Remus effortlessly took up a mantle of quiet authority.

When had Remus become such a grown-up?

Not that he, Sirius, wasn't also a grown-up, more or less, despite having spent most of his adulthood behind the twisted bars of Azkaban. But it hadn't escaped Sirius' notice how it was Remus the kids turned to with their questions big and small, or how Molly leaned on him during the chaotic holidays without her husband. Or how other members of the Order sometimes dropped by the house specifically to seek Remus' advice, knowing he would always take time for them.

Whatever the task at hand, they could all depend on Remus, with his air of quiet wisdom that was frankly a little Dumbledorish. And Sirius was proud of his old friend: Remus had gone and become precisely the kind of sensible adult they'd always teased him he would be. Yes, they could count on Remus to be right there in the middle of things.

– – – – –

For a person who prided herself on her steady nerves, Tonks felt surprisingly fluttery as she rapped at the front door of Headquarters on Christmas Eve, taking Molly up on an early dinner invitation before heading to her own family for the holidays.

Really, what did it matter that she hadn't seen Remus in over a month and he was sure to be here tonight? Or that the last time she'd seen him, they'd spent half the night asking each other overly personal questions and then come within a breath of kissing, twice? Surely they were both mature enough to act normally in front of the others for the duration of a dinner. And maybe, just maybe, she'd even find an opportunity to –

"Tonks!" Ginny cried, swinging the door open, then clapped a hand over her own mouth and made urgent gestures of reminder in the direction of the portrait, as if it were Tonks who needed reminding. Ginny gave a sheepish grin, and Hermione appeared in the hallway behind her, smiling too.

Tonks grinned back at them as she stepped in out of the swirling snow. She couldn't help enjoying the enthusiasm with which the kids greeted her every time she came by. She supposed they saw her as their only half-way compatriot within the adults of the Order, and Tonks certainly wasn't complaining at the chance to play big sister.

"I'll put your cloak in the dining room," Hermione offered, already reaching out to take it as Tonks shrugged out of her snow-covered cloak.

"Thanks, Hermione." Hermione bustled off and Tonks asked Ginny, "So, what have you lot been doing the last few days?"

"Decorating, decorating, decorating," Ginny declared with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh, but don't forget decorating!" Fred put in, as he and George came pounding down the stairs from somewhere above.

"You'd think Sirius was going for an All-England Most-Christmas-Cheer House Decoration Award," Ron agreed, emerging from the direction of the basement in a sudden burst of gangly limbs, with Harry behind him, also smiling.

"Oh, don't make fun of him," Hermione scolded, re-appearing from the dining room. "He's happy we're here, that's all."

"Not making fun," Ron replied. "'S just the truth."

"We did find time for a few epic snow battles, despite the nonstop house-decorating," George put in, leaning against the banister post. "Have you seen the garden out back? We had no idea it was there till Sirius told us; it's Disillusioned from the outside."

"All kinds of spots to use as blinds and stockpiling points," Fred added, "and we've been developing some really interesting jinxes for snowballs." Ginny's acidic glare was more than enough to tell Tonks who had borne the brunt of the twins' creative experiments this time. "Ah, Ginny, don't be angry. Someone had to be the test Pixie."

"I'll hex you next time, see if I don't," Ginny warned.

"Like to see you try..."

And then Remus was there, appearing out of nowhere into the middle of the teenaged bickering in the entryway.

"Wotcher, Remus," Tonks said, fighting back a blush.

"Nice to see you, Dora," he answered, his nod friendly and cautious.

She ducked her head, tongue-tied. Act normally in front of the others, right – how did that go again? She was saved by Molly calling them down to dinner.

Sirius bounded out from somewhere in the back of the house, as the kids filed after Remus down to the kitchen. "Ah, my favourite cousin!" he cried.

"I thought my mother was your favourite," Tonks teased.

"I'm allowed one per generation, didn't you know?"

"Mum says hi, by the way. She said she'd try to come by on Boxing Day."

"Tell her it will be an honour as always to receive her in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," Sirius drawled in his best posh voice.

Following Sirius down to the basement, Tonks couldn't fail to see the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway as she passed under it, but she made sure to keep Sirius from noticing her noticing it. Had he deliberately…no…

At the table, she ended up between Ginny and Ron, with Remus across from her and one over. The kids chattered about the holidays, but they avoided any mention of their months at Hogwarts under the iron fist of Dolores Umbridge, and Tonks didn't broach the subject – maybe she really was finally learning tact. Remus kept himself occupied in conversation with Molly.

"Did he really –" Tonks heard George asking Fred, the two of them leaning together, conspiratory as always.

"– was thinking we could empty out these last cupboards," Molly was saying to Sirius and Remus, "with so many of us here and so many free days after Christmas –"

"Fred," cried Hermione, exasperated, as the twin in question yet again shrank the saltcellar just as she reached for it.

"Oi, Harry," Ron said around a mouthful of mash, "have you heard anything from, you know…"

Hermione whipped back round from her saltcellar mishap to elbow Ron in the ribs, causing him to cough on his potatoes. Harry turned red, but it seemed Tonks was the only one who noticed Ginny's face fall.

Well, this is interesting, Tonks thought. There's a girl Harry's interested in at school and Ginny is jealous. Harry and Ginny wouldn't necessarily have occurred to her as a match, but it made a certain kind of sense: The two shared a number of interests and a hefty amount of history.

Remus caught Tonks' eye just once during the entire meal and by accident at that, as he handed the gravy past her to Ginny. Then he cleared his throat and asked the table at large if anyone wanted more sprouts.

So much for acting normal, Tonks thought. It's not like he has to pretend like he's never even met me!

After many helpings and a delicious pudding, the kids scattered upstairs. Molly made to take the dishes to the corner of the kitchen where an old-fashioned basin stood, but Remus stopped her. "No, Molly, really. Go upstairs, sit down for once. I'll do the washing up."

Molly protested, but when Remus was determined about something, Tonks noted, he tended to prevail. Molly lost the argument and followed Sirius up the stairs.

Tonks was about to go up as well, really she was, but something made her hesitate. Maybe it was the sight of that mistletoe, dangling in the doorway. Or maybe it was just the soothing sound of Remus wandworking his way through a pile of dishes, setting them to scrub and rinse themselves.

So instead of following the others up the stairs, she stood and watched Remus, his shoulders hunched and concentrated as he extended the spell to the cutlery and used a jet of hot air to dry the plates. He was facing away and didn't see her, but that only reminded Tonks more strongly that she never really got to see Remus with his guard down, Remus when he wasn't trying to please everyone.

Her thoughts wandered down a series of different tracks: Remus insisting Molly not do all the work, Remus, always there for anyone who needed a strong shoulder. Remus, gazing up at her for one guileless moment in the silence of a wintry field…

Finished with the washing up, Remus turned and saw her, and froze halfway through drying his hands on a dishtowel. "Oh," he said.

"Hey," Tonks offered, ineloquently.

Remus hesitated a moment, then started across the room towards her. Well, it did happen she was in his way to get to the only exit. "I didn't realise you were still down here."

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

What pointless things they were saying. Tonks took a deep breath.

"I just –" she said. "I couldn't help noticing –"

He had crossed the room and reached her now, stopping half a pace away. His face was mostly in shadow, but golden light from the kitchen lamps caught his long lashes. His mouth was pursed in a question. "Noticing?"

"Yeah –" Tonks took one step closer to him and flicked her gaze upward. "You know."

Automatically, he lifted his head, following her gaze to the mistletoe above them, and she closed the distance between them and kissed him, catching his uplifted face on the way back down. Remus seemed not to breathe, not moving in but not pulling away.

Then he swallowed, and she took a half step back. He was meeting her eyes now, but his expression was unreadable.

"So – happy Christmas, Remus," she whispered.

He was still staring at her and it was all Tonks could do not to look away. When Remus finally spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. "Oh, Dora," he said, "You don't want to do that."

Dreamlike, almost in slow motion, he reached up one hand to brush lightly across her cheek. Then he dropped his gaze and skirted gently round her and up the stairs.

Leaving Tonks thinking, Wait, what? No, seriously, WHAT?

– – – – –

(continue to CHAPTER NINE)


Note: I didn't write it with fitting-into-the-timeline in mind, so I can't say exactly, but this short, festive-holiday-cheer Remus/Tonks story would probably fall somewhere around now: "Come all you out of – or into – the cold"

Because clearly "Sirius ships Remus/Tonks" is one of my favorite things to write. :-)

Comments

[shimotsuki.livejournal.com]

Leaving Tonks thinking, Wait, what? No, seriously, WHAT?

Ha! Exactly...

So glad Remus is starting to have at least a little success with werewolf contacts, but of course he reacts to the whole incident in the field by keeping himself scarce. :/ Tonks's embarrassment and uncertainty is sweet, but I was very glad when she finally took the mistletoe by the horns, as it were.

I like the spin you put on (how Remus thinks about) the way Sirius interacts with Harry -- it makes a lot more sense to me than Molly's rather narrow-minded view that he's only looking for a James substitute.

[starfishstar]

Glad you agree with Tonks that Remus is being ridiculous. :-)

Yes, I can't imagine that Sirius wouldn't be terribly, painfully aware of exactly who Harry is, and that he is very much not just James... I admit that canon does present Sirius as rash and a bit irresponsible, egging Harry on to do adventurous stuff, or to hang out with Sirius, at the expense of safety or sense. But he also often gives Harry very smart, sensible, fatherly advice, so maybe it balances out?