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starfishstarRAISE YOUR LANTERN HIGH
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. (My Remus/Tonks epic, which has been years in the making! This is the second half of the story, set in the Half-Blood Prince year.)
Note: This was timing too good to be missed: This chapter takes place around and during Beltane, the Celtic celebration of spring. And out here in the real world, too, TODAY is Beltane. (Well, not in the UK anymore – but here in the US it's still May 1 for another hour or two.) Happy northern hemisphere/pagan/Celtic spring, everyone! I was out celebrating today, as part of a long-standing family tradition, despite the pouring rain.
Chapter 19: Beltane Eve
Secret heart, what are you made of?
What are you so afraid of?
–Ron Sexsmith, Secret Heart
Spring sunshine slanted through the trees, dappling the forest floor with light. High overhead, unseen among the many blossoming branches, birds trilled out fervent melodies, as if their tiny hearts might burst with the joy of springtime if they didn’t release some of that feeling through song.
Half a year ago, even a month ago, Tonks could never have predicted she would be patrolling the woods outside Hogsmeade on a bright spring afternoon – with Remus at her side.
She’d invited him along on her patrol as a way for them to meet in their role as liaisons while she was on duty, but somehow she’d failed to consider that this meant she was letting herself in for an entire afternoon of strolling side by side with Remus through the blossoming beauty of the springtime woods, trying to stay matter-of-fact and professional when Remus was right there, within arm’s reach.
“Now that the ground’s thawed, the pack will be breaking down the winter shelter. Right after Beltane,” Remus was saying.
There was something different in his bearing, after all this time with the werewolf pack. In every other respect he was still very much as she remembered – same wry voice, same warm, intelligent gaze – but there was a quiet confidence in the way Remus held himself these days. It suited him.
But it was so hard, so horrendously difficult, to walk along next to Remus and listen to the sound of the voice she’d missed so much all these months, and yet keep reminding herself not to want this too much. He was a colleague with whom she met periodically for an hour or two of discussion, that was all. She couldn’t, mustn’t allow herself to think of this as anything more than that.
Because if Tonks let herself save up thoughts and stories and amusing anecdotes in her mind, looking forward to each next time she would get to share all those things with Remus and watch an answering smile spread across his face, it only ever meant she would be destroyed once again each time he left.
If only Remus wouldn’t look at her with blazing longing, in little moments when he thought she didn’t see.
Like now: Tonks glanced away, peering through the woods towards a cluster of oak trees that stood a little more closely together than the rest, mentally assessing them for any signs of hidden danger, and she turned back to find Remus’ eyes on her. His gaze stuttered away the moment she looked, but too late – the desire in his gaze hit her like a Stunner spell.
Why did he look at her like that, and then insist he wanted nothing more than her friendship? What kind of stupidly iron control did this man possess?
Remus cleared his throat. “And you?”
“What?” Tonks gasped, startled.
“What’s the news from Hogsmeade? Is there anything I should know?”
Right. They were here to exchange news, not confidences. It was all business between them these days – just how Remus claimed to want it.
So Tonks told him about things in the village, and about a recent – but successfully deflected – Dementor attack. Remus grimaced in sympathy at that. As someone who’d made a study of magical beasts and Dark creatures, Remus understood well what Tonks faced every time her Aurorlog blared, summoning her to battle another horde of Dementors.
Tonks held her wand in hand as they walked, easy but alert. The year’s first snowdrops dotted the ground with delicate white blossoms. The oak and birch leaves overhead were vibrantly green and new. Tonks had never appreciated a spring so much as she did now, after living through a long, drab, lonely Hogsmeade winter.
And here was Remus, right here beside her, and the woods were bursting with spring, and they were talking about nothing but Death Eaters and Dementors.
The terrible sadness of it finally led Tonks to dare more. “How are you?” she asked, turning to Remus. “Really, I mean.” A breeze dipped and darted around them, fluttering strands of Tonks’ hair across her eyes. “You’ve convinced me you’re not in physical danger, living with the pack, and that’s good. It’s really good. But are you – are you happy?”
Remus looked down at the ground, then up at the sky. Finally, he looked at Tonks. “I wouldn’t say I’m unhappy,” he said.
Tonks pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh, despite herself. What a very Remus answer. “Please tell me that’s not Remus-code for ‘I’m miserable but too polite to say so.’”
Remus chuckled softly. He ducked down to look under a clump of bushes, but evidently came up satisfied that nothing darker than leaves and shadows lurked there. “No, no. I’m content. I enjoy living among my fellows, among other werewolves. I’ve learned an enormous amount I never even knew I needed to learn.”
Could you ever be content to live here again, among us non-werewolves? Tonks wondered. Are you ever coming back? But she carefully didn’t ask it. If Remus never returned to wizarding society, Tonks knew she couldn’t blame him. He had suffered so much at the hands of witches and wizards.
“But I miss –” Remus’ voice caught. “I do miss many things.”
For a moment it seemed he would say more, but then he swallowed the rest of whatever that thought had been.
Feeling suddenly reckless, Tonks burst out, “Feelings don’t just disappear when they’re not convenient anymore! You can’t Vanish them away. They – they’re still there, even when you try to tell yourself they shouldn’t be.”
And now of course it was terribly obvious that she was talking about her own feelings, not just his. She chanced a glance over at Remus, then quickly looked away again. The sorrow in his face was too terrible. In the sudden silence between them, Tonks could hear every twig that cracked beneath their feet.
“Dora – I –” Remus swallowed audibly, then started again. “I can’t give you what you deserve. I wish so much that I could.”
“I don’t care about any of that! All I want –”
“Dora. Please.” There was such anguish in his voice that Tonks couldn’t bring herself to push any further.
The ground they walked dipped into a small glen, where the forest floor was dotted with the green shoots of wildflowers pushing up out of the soil. Tonks’ throat felt raw, and every part of her ached to throw herself at Remus and tell him how she felt. Shake him hard enough that he might finally understand. But she clenched her hands at her sides and managed, barely, to hold herself back.
At long last, Remus spoke, keeping his voice painfully even. It must hurt, Tonks thought desperately. The effort to strip all emotion from his voice like that, it must hurt.
“I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy,” he said, very quietly. “I wish there were something I could do to make it so.”
Tonks wanted so badly to tell him how simple it could be. Just let go. Let me love you. But saying it again and again only tortured both of them, so she didn’t say it. Her eyes stung, but she didn’t say it.
It was absurd that it could be such a beautiful spring day and her heart could hurt this much, as she walked on in silence through the dappled woods with Remus.
– – – – –
On Beltane Eve, Remus watched Ashmita and Jack assembling with great care the pile of wood that would become a bonfire. Joy ran about underfoot, strewing the camp with armfuls of yellow flowers Eirwen and Ronan had helped her pick, hawthorn and gorse and kingcup.
The winter lean-to still stood, but they would dismantle it as soon as the Beltane festivities were over. Beltane marked the coming of the warm season. Where Samhain was the dying of the year, Beltane was its rebirth.
Remus had wondered what to expect of this bawdiest of seasonal holidays. He’d researched all of this long ago, and he knew Beltane was a fertility festival, a celebration of light and life and new growth returning to the world. Some celebrations could get quite…wild. His own pack didn’t seem the sort to let loose completely, but Beltane could bring out unpredictability in even the most staid of individuals.
As evening drew near, Remus was surprised to see Jack – Thunderstorm – working to start the fire using a crude hand drill made of a wooden spindle and a bit of board with a notch cut into it, rather than the usual flint.
Anna, the Mother, saw Remus watching curiously, and waved him over to her. He came and knelt respectfully beside her, where she sat on a tree stump outside the lean-to.
“On Beltane Eve, we do everything by hand, young City Wolf,” she said. The use of that old nickname didn’t rankle as it once had done. “That’s what makes this fire sacred. This is the fire that renews and cleanses us after such a long time enclosed in the darkness of winter. This fire will bless and protect us as the world turns again towards its bright morning.” A teasing note crept into her voice as she added, “I will tend the fire overnight, so you young ones can have your fun.”
Remus supressed a startled jerk of alarm. Just what sort of fun was she expecting him to get into?
Jack had worked up a spark now, and he transferred it deftly to a small pile of tinder and bark, where Ashmita helped him fan it into a flame. The flames caught and rose higher, as the sun sank behind the hills of the moor.
Once the sun had disappeared, the pack gathered around the bonfire and Brighid passed around warm wine and oatcakes. She poured a small measure of her drink onto the ground, then began to crumble her oatcake and scatter the pieces into the evening breeze, murmuring with each bit she broke off, “May this piece protect my loved ones… May this piece keep my foes at bay…”
The others did the same, scattering crumbs and whispering their own benedictions of protection.
Now Remus understood, too, why this bonfire hadn’t been built as high as the fires they’d had for other seasonal celebrations: because the next ritual required each adult member of the pack to take a great leap through the air over the fire’s purifying flames.
Aged Anna was exempt from this, and merely held her hands above the fire. Joy sulked when Serena told her she was too young, and Eirwen blushed with pleasure when the Alpha deemed her old enough to take part.
One by one, they squared up to the fire, tensed their muscles, and leapt.
When Remus’ turn came, he didn’t leave himself time to think, simply pushed off from the ground and leapt as high as he could, shouting in delight at the rush of heat and adrenalin as the flames blurred beneath his feet, and then he was over, safely on the other side.
They were all laughing now, in accomplishment and easy camaraderie. The Alpha cupped his hands above the fire, catching eddies of smoke and wafting them towards each of the pack members in turn, until he had blessed each of them with the protective powers of the fire. They settled down comfortably around the bonfire and Brighid passed the jug of wine again. Remus felt it warming his belly and weighing down his limbs, pleasant sensations after so many months of cold and want. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the fire, feeling the thrum of wine in his veins.
When Remus opened his eyes, he saw the pack had dispersed while he was wool-gathering. Brighid and the Alpha had disappeared together, as well as Jack and Ashmita. No surprises there; those were long-established couples.
Remus had worried how the spirit of Beltane Night might catch Ronan and Eirwen, who were increasingly close friends but surely a little young yet for Beltane’s more libidinous pleasures. But he saw the two of them simply sitting by the fire, heads bent close together as they chatted quietly. Joy rested sleepily against Anna’s knee, as the Mother stroked her hand over the fine plaits that lined Joy’s head.
During the passing of the wine flask, Remus had settled on the ground with his back against a log, in the shadows beyond the fire’s ring of light. Now he turned to see Serena sitting beside him.
Meeting her gaze, Remus knew how this night was meant to unfold. He was the newest adult in the pack, she an unpartnered adult. It would have been a reasonable match regardless, and all the better seeing that they got on well and considered one another friends. Remus knew Serena appreciated the kindness he showed her adoptive daughter. And there was no question that he liked and respected Serena and her no-nonsense brand of warmth. She was attractive, clever, and had been nothing but kind to him. As a potential partner, she made perfect sense.
Except that Remus’ heart lay elsewhere.
Remus himself could have made his peace with a partnership based on convenience and mutual appreciation, rather than love. In truth, such a partnership would be more than he had ever dared to hope for himself. But he would not ask that of Serena. She deserved a partner whose heart was hers.
Her eyes on him were warm and gentle, and Remus had to look away.
“I –” He cleared his throat and tried again. The words came out sounding scratchy and rough. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I know it’s Beltane, and it’s supposed to be – I know it’s – but I can’t.”
“Quiet,” Serena said softly. “Remus.”
He looked at her, surprised. She had never before used his human name.
“You don’t need to explain,” Serena said gently. “If it’s not what you want, that’s answer enough.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. Would he ever stop making choices that left him endlessly apologising to the people he cared about?
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, her voice firm. “Are we friends?”
“Yes,” Remus said. “Of course.”
“Good.” She reached out her hand, and Remus took it. “It’s Beltane,” Serena said. “The world is new. There’s so much to be thankful for.”
Remus nodded, his throat tight. He thought of Harry, still alive and fierce and strong, despite everything. He thought of Tonks, mercifully safe, or as close to safe as a terrifyingly brave Auror could ever be, going about her life and work in Hogsmeade. Truly, Remus had almost everything he could wish for.
He squeezed Serena’s hand gratefully, and her answering smile was a wistful flicker in the darkness. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and they sat together long into the night, watching the fire dance.
– – – – –
Remus woke with a crick in his neck, and the weight of Joy’s head balanced precariously against his knee. He’d fallen asleep with his back against the log, Serena’s hand still in his.
He opened his eyes to see Anna bending down and scooping up ashes from the fire that had nearly guttered out, only a few wisps of wan smoke still rising from the faded grey embers.
As Remus watched, Anna poured careful handfuls of ash into little woven-grass pouches he recognised as a project that had occupied Serena in recent days. He’d seen her weaving the pouches and attaching them to thin loops of grass twisted into cords. Now Remus finally understood their purpose, as he watched Eirwen, one of the first to wake, wander up to Anna, yawning. The woman looped one of the necklaces over the girl’s head, tucking the pouch beneath her clothing and murmuring words of blessing. Eirwen bowed her head in thanks.
Next to Remus, Serena stirred and mumbled. He glanced over and saw her blinking herself awake. Her hand in his squeezed once, gently, and let go.
Anna approached them now, bearing three of the woven grass pouches, which she deposited in Serena’s outstretched palm. Anna rested a gentle hand on Serena’s head for a moment as Serena murmured her thanks, then Anna continued on to rouse Ronan, who had also fallen asleep by the fire and was snoring with a soft whistling sound.
Serena turned to Remus, holding out one of the pouches to him. “For protection,” she said, though he had guessed this already. “Wear it until it falls off of its own accord.”
Nodding his thanks, Remus took the pouch, and Serena turned her attention to slipping one over Joy’s head and another over her own. Remus examined the small pouch in his hand. Its smell was both sweet and sharp, the green scent of grass mixed with the rough odour of wood smoke. He slipped the cord over his head and settled the pouch under his shirt where it rested lightly, its texture against his skin unfamiliar but not unpleasant.
The morning passed in the lazy doze of a hangover, although none of them had drunk all that much wine the night before. The two adult couples who had absconded in the night wandered back into camp, and no one blushed or seemed ashamed. Remus found it a refreshing change from the attitudes of much of human society.
They dismantled the lean-to piece by piece over the course of the afternoon, working together to pry out nails and stack boards into neat piles. Everything that could be reused, Jack explained to Remus, would be wrapped in a canvas tarp and stowed out of the way until the next winter. No reason to waste anything that could be used again.
Remus saw the Alpha watching him consideringly, during the day, so he wasn’t surprised when the Alpha called him aside late in the afternoon.
“I’d like you to take one or two of the pack into the city with you for a day,” the Alpha said. Then, frowning, he amended, “The village. Hogsmeade, where your wizarding school is. I would like them to see the city through your eyes. I had thought of Thunderstorm and Trouble as the two who might go with you, but you may suggest others instead if you wish.”
Thunderstorm and Trouble – Jack and Serena. Two pack members Remus considered friends, and trusted not to grow angry or defensive when confronted with all the things that were so inherently different about wizarding life. “Your suggestion is eminently suitable, Alpha,” he said. “I would be happy to show Hogsmeade to Thunderstorm and Trouble.”
The Alpha nodded. “Good. Arrange it with your friends in the city.”
– – – – –
Tonks paced, her feet describing tight loops on the pavement in front of the Three Broomsticks, oblivious to the warmth of the sun and the scent of spring blossoms wafting on the gentle breeze.
Remus was coming, today, with two other werewolves from the pack. What would they look like, how would they act, what would they say? What might she accidentally say and offend them, out of her own ignorance?
Remus generally turned up in threadbare clothes that bore the signs of hard living, with several days’ stubble or more, but he clearly took pains to look as presentable as was possible under the circumstances. And he still spoke like, well, like Remus. But werewolves who’d lived most of their lives away from society – how did they talk? What would conversation with them be like?
Tonks made another tight pivot on the pavement and saw them before they saw her: Remus, walking up the high street, with a man on one side of him and a woman on the other.
The man was big and broad-shouldered, with tanned skin, dark hair and a thick beard. For a moment Tonks wondered if this was the Alpha. He had the right look for it, powerful and self-assured. But no, surely the Alpha had better things to do than play tourist in a wizarding town. This would be another member of the pack.
The woman was of average height, dark-skinned with neatly curling black hair. She had, Tonks thought, a kind-looking face, though she couldn’t have said exactly what made her think that. Both of them dressed as Remus did, in simple, practical clothing, much of which looked homemade. Their appearance was not so out of the ordinary, though, that they would stand out oddly in the streets of Hogsmeade. Which had been another of Tonks’ worries, that they would draw stares, which would be understandably unpleasant for them, which could wreck this whole attempt at establishing normal relations before it had even started.
She took a deep, steadying breath, and breathed out slowly.
Remus spotted Tonks and picked up his pace. When he and the others reached her, they stopped abruptly, and all four of them stood there on the pavement, looking at each other.
“Wotcher,” Tonks said.
Remus blinked a few times, like he was trying to find his feet in the oddness of this situation. “Dora, this is –” he faltered, and glanced at the other two in turn.
“Human names are fine,” the woman said, which struck Tonks as a rather cryptic comment, but Remus seemed to understand. He nodded.
“This is Serena, and this is Jack,” Remus said. The big man chuckled, as if he found the sound of their names amusing. “And this is Nymphadora Tonks, but everyone calls her Tonks.”
“Nice to meet you,” the woman – Serena – said. She reached out and shook Tonks’ hand. The gesture was perfectly polite, but it felt somehow unpractised, like she hadn’t shaken hands in years and was drawing on old memories to remember how to do so. The man, Jack, glanced at the woman as if taking his cues from her about this strange human custom, and he shook Tonks’ hand as well.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Tonks said. There was another off-kilter pause, but Tonks reminded herself firmly to get it together and behave like a professional. She gave them a big smile. “So – I’m happy to show you around, but I don’t know what you’d like to see, exactly. Just, walk around and see the town?”
She looked to Remus and he stepped in smoothly. “Yes, that’s the idea,” he said. “I thought we could have a look around the town, and I can share some of my own memories from my schooldays here. And perhaps you could tell us a bit about Hogsmeade, too, since you’re living here right now?”
“Yes, of course,” Tonks said, glad to have been handed a straightforward opening topic. She launched into an overview of Hogsmeade life and history as the four of them started along the high street.
It wasn’t too awkward, once they got going. They were able to walk four abreast, aside from occasionally having to weave past the displays that were set out on the pavement in front of some of the shops. Tonks told anecdotes about the village, and from time to time Remus added his own comments, the flow of conversation between the two of them as uncomplicated as ever. Tonks had the sense that the other two were at least as interested in observing the dynamic between her and Remus as they were in the sights and sounds of the village. The werewolf and the human, as friends: a case study.
“Zonko’s Joke Shop,” Remus explained, when they stopped in front of the shop. “My friends and I spent more time here than almost anywhere else, on the days when they let us visit the village from school. We were terrible pranksters.”
“You, a prankster?” the woman, Serena, asked. “Sorry, Quiet, but I can’t picture it!”
Remus chuckled. “And you at some point earned yourself the name ‘Trouble,’ and I can’t picture that either.”
“Point taken,” she agreed with a smile.
There were swaths of backstory here, Tonks was forcefully reminded, common ground between the members of the pack that she wasn’t privy to. These were people Remus had lived with at close quarters for months now, depending on one another for their survival. There was so much she didn’t know.
Seeming to sense the direction of her thoughts, Remus turned to Tonks and smiled, that gentle smile of his that had been making her knees go weak for as long as she’d known him. “I’ve told you how everyone in the pack has another name besides their human name, right? Mine is ‘Quiet,’ for obvious reasons.”
His eyes sparkled, and Tonks understood the gift he was giving her: The pack knew one side of him, the quiet, fair-minded, serious side, the side that was the only one Remus ever let most people see. But Tonks had been allowed to see another side of him, the hidden Marauder who still delighted in boyish jokes and wry wit, a man she could easily picture exploring secret passageways and inventing spells as a boy, and who had – as he’d once admitted to her, half rueful and half pleased – helped his friends sneak into the Slytherin dormitories, steal the other boys’ underpants and hang them up in the Great Hall using Sticking Spells so strong, it had taken the combined efforts of several Hogwarts professors nearly an entire school day to undo them.
The werewolf pack knew some parts of Remus, but he had trusted Tonks with so much more.
“Yes, quietest man I’ve ever known,” Tonks managed, and she gave Remus a cautious smile as they continued on their way.
They walked on through the village, Remus chatting easily, sharing anecdotes from his schooldays, clearly eager to present Hogwarts in a positive light. Tonks knew how deeply he wished for this bridging of the two cultures, for it to one day be possible that all werewolf children might get the chance to receive a Hogwarts education, as Remus had done, and live a life as equals among wizards. He steered them clear of the Shrieking Shack, and she didn’t blame him. He had few happy memories there.
They fetched up again in front of the Three Broomsticks and Tonks suggested, “How about a drink?” Then she added hurriedly, “It’s on me.” She didn’t know if the other two werewolves even used money, and Remus was always sparing with the little gold he had. She suspected Dumbledore had convinced him to accept a small allowance for exactly these sorts of situations, when his work for the Order required him to meet with contacts over a drink or a meal. But knowing Remus, the allowance he’d been willing to accept would be small indeed.
“Sure,” said Serena, glancing at the door of Three Broomsticks with curiosity. “Can’t remember the last time I was in a proper pub.”
Tonks bit back all the questions she wanted to ask – How old Serena had been when she was bitten? How much did she remember of wizarding life? Instead, she nodded politely and led the way inside.
Once they’d sorted out a table and chairs for themselves, Tonks went to the bar to order: Jack wanted whisky; Serena seemed nostalgic for butterbeer, though she hadn’t quite come right out and said so; and Remus, unnecessarily abstemious as usual, had simply asked for tea. Tonks had rolled her eyes fondly at him, then turned away and shut down that feeling as quickly as she could, because letting herself feel even the least bit fond only meant she would feel his absence all the more achingly when he left again.
Rosmerta seemed distracted as she took Tonks’ order, though that probably had to do with a large party of out-of-town wizards taking up one whole corner of the pub and calling out loudly for drinks. Rosmerta looked wan, as she always did these days.
Tonks returned to the table with their drinks, and found Remus and the other two chatting comfortably. It still surprised her to see him like this, so at ease with the others. She’d been wrong about the dangers of living with werewolves, or at least with these particular werewolves, and she was glad to have been proved wrong. Remus’ mission no longer seemed so dangerous and mad.
“Drinks!” Tonks said cheerfully, sliding the four glasses onto the table, pleased with herself when she managed to spill not even a drop of any of them. She distributed the glasses and cups around, then slid into her own seat, between Serena and Jack and across from Remus.
Wanting to encourage the atmosphere of camaraderie they’d built up over the course of the afternoon, silently hoping she wasn’t pushing it too far, Tonks said, “All right. Tell me the most ridiculous thing ‘Quiet’ has done in his time living with you.”
Then she held her breath, hoping she’d judged the mood of the group right. To her relief, Serena burst out laughing and launched into a complicated story about something Remus had done in his wolf form – and that was a whole other complicated topic, because here was someone who’d experienced Remus in his transformed state and could tell stories about it, in a way Tonks would never be able to do.
Not something she should get lost in thinking about right now, though.
Jack went on to describe a spot on the moor where Remus liked to wander, the place that had earned him his nickname of ‘Quiet,’ and the conversation continued smoothly on from there.
When she’d drained the last of her butterbeer, Serena looked over at Tonks and said, “I’d like to see the school, Hogwarts. Would that be possible?”
Tonks blinked. “Yes. Of course. We won’t be able to go inside the grounds, because security’s really tight right now, but we can have a look at it from outside. It’s a bit of a walk from the village, but if you don’t mind…”
“I don’t mind,” Serena said. “Thunderstorm?”
That seemed to mean Jack. He shrugged. “Sure. Alpha doesn’t expect us back until evening, anyway.”
“All right,” Remus said. Tonks glanced at him and tried to parse the complicated emotions that flitted across his face in the wake of Serena’s request. “Dora, you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind,” Tonks said.
So the four of them walked the road from the village to the castle. They stopped in front of the stone gates with their winged boars, and gazed up at the school. Seeing it through visitors’ eyes, Tonks appreciated anew what an impressive sight Hogwarts made. And if Serena and Jack could see the castle, then they clearly had magical ability, despite not practising wand magic, so that was another question answered.
Jack seemed indifferent, but Serena gazed up at the castle for a long time. Tonks glanced at Remus and wondered what he was thinking. She knew he considered Hogwarts one of the only homes he’d ever had.
“All right,” Serena said finally. “I’ve seen it. That’s good enough.” She seemed sad, or maybe just wistful, in a way Tonks couldn’t quantify. Serena glanced over at Jack, then at Remus. “We should get back.”
Jack glanced up at the sky. He was telling the time by the position of the sun, Tonks realised. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone do that. “Agreed,” he said.
They both looked at Remus. He would have had to Side-Along Apparate them here, Tonks knew, since they didn’t use wands. And that meant they were dependent on Remus to bring them back home, as well. She sucked in a quiet breath as she appreciated what a level of trust in him that implied.
Tonks turned to Remus, and found him looking at her gravely. “Thank you, Dora,” he said. “I know how busy you are with work. I appreciate that you took this time to meet us.”
“My pleasure,” she said, then turned to Serena and Jack. “Seriously, it was great to meet you. And you’re welcome here any time. We’re not all –” She hesitated, not sure how candidly she should speak. “We’re not all prejudiced. Not all wizards think all that horrible stuff that the people who make the laws would have us believe.”
A small smile quirked at one side of Serena’s mouth, a hint of a hidden, warm emotion. “Yes,” she said. “I can see that. Thank you.”
Both of them, Serena and Jack, shook her hand again, then Tonks turned to Remus, her heart in her throat. Shaking hands would be too strangely formal. Anything more than that would be too much. But doing nothing at all would look strange in front of the others.
His expression still grave, Remus said, “Happy birthday, in case I don’t see you before then. I hope it’s a good one.”
Tonks blinked. She’d hardly thought about it, but yes, her birthday was coming in a few days’ time. And now she was thinking of last year, cosily gathered in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place with her parents and Remus and Sirius –
She forced that memory aside.
“Thanks,” she said, trying to keep her tone cheerful. The others didn’t need to know how sad it made Tonks to think of spending this birthday without both of them, Remus and Sirius.
Remus’ eyes flicked to Tonks’ drab, unhappy brown hair for the barest moment, before returning to her face. “Be well, Dora. I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes,” she said, her throat tight. “See you soon.” Remus took out his wand, and the other two each put a hand on one of his arms. As he raised his wand, Remus’ eyes met Tonks’ with such a depth of emotion that she reeled.
And then they were gone.
– – – – –
“Well,” Remus said, trying to sound light-hearted. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
His heart was still pounding. Every time he saw Tonks he thought it would surely get a little easier, but that was never true. Any time she was present, Remus could barely tear his eyes away.
But the success of this friendship-making mission was more important than his personal feelings, so he tried to hide his reeling heart away. He stowed his wand safely beneath a rock, and the three of them started towards camp, he and Serena and Jack.
Serena cast him a sidelong look.
But Jack only said, shrugging easily, “Yeah, not bad. Wouldn’t want to live there all the time, though. Too many buildings.”
Remus had to stop himself from laughing out loud. In all his years of experience with Hogsmeade, that was one way he would never have thought to describe the village: as too urban.
“Your friend was very kind,” Serena said. “Alpha is right. It’s good to go and have a look for ourselves, and see that not all witches and wizards are like we imagine them to be.”
They reached the pack in time for dinner, and shared stories of the day around the cooking fire with the rest of the pack. Joy, of course, wanted to hear every detail.
It wasn’t until late in the evening that Serena caught Remus alone. He was sitting on his piece of canvas, inexpertly trying to repair a damaged bow and arrow Jack had pressed into his hands. Jack seemed to think it good practice for Remus to attempt these tasks, even if the results were rarely impressive. Serena dropped down beside him.
“Mother told me once,” she said, “that she believes you left a mate behind in the city when you came here. Someone you still love.”
Remus fumbled, the bow slipping from his hand. He hurriedly picked it up again.
“I think I met her today,” Serena said softly. “Am I right?”
He could, if he chose, refuse to answer her. It was a highly personal question, and Remus would be well within his rights if he refused to answer, even here in this pack that shared everything.
But he was so tired of refusing.
“Yes,” Remus said, keeping his eyes cast down at the bow in his hands.
“What made you leave her?” Serena asked quietly.
“I am a werewolf,” he said. The same refrain, the same inescapable excuse for everything that was broken in Remus’ life, the same excuse he’d been repeating for nearly as long as he’d been alive. “I’ve learned to live with the indignities that entails, when living in human society. But I wouldn’t wish all that trouble on someone who is unbroken and whole.”
“I have to say, it didn’t seem like she would mind.”
“No,” Remus agreed. “That has never been in doubt. Dora is extraordinary that way. But I won’t impose the difficulties of my life on her. I couldn’t do that to someone I – love. So I decided it would be better to remove myself. I’ve only ever wanted to keep her safe,” he added, his voice stuttering into emotion on that last word.
“Oh, Quiet,” Serena said. “And have you made her any safer or happier by breaking her heart?”
“No,” Remus said, pushing the word past the constriction in his throat. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Life is precarious,” Serena said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Every werewolf knows that. Each winter could be our last. Better to have joy today, than to refuse it out of fear for what might happen tomorrow.”
Remus shook his head, trying to shake away Serena’s words. She didn’t understand. She meant well, but it wasn’t as simple as she made it sound.
Yet he lay awake a long time that night, thinking about what Serena had said. Yes, Remus wished he could have the joy of being together with Tonks. And far more than he wanted it for himself, he wanted Tonks to have that joy. In rejecting the love she offered him, he’d been trying to spare her hardship, but instead he’d hurt her terribly.
More and more, the long-lost voices that lived in Remus – Sirius, James and Lily, his mother, his father – all seemed to be converging in his heart to tell him the same thing that Serena had said: that love was worth even this risk.
And yet the question remained, forever the same question: He himself was willing to take that risk, and dare to love. But did he dare inflict himself, a dangerous Dark creature, on the woman he loved?
Chapter end notes:
Many notes! The "stealing the Slytherins' underpants" anecdote is from my Remus/Marauders story "In the Wrong House." And the mention of Tonks' birthday the previous year, that's in "Be the Light in My Lantern," chapter 16: "The Calm Before the Storm."
So many fic writers have inspired me and expanded my understanding about these characters and what they might be thinking during various parts of their story; for this chapter in particular, I'd like to mention gilpin25 and her story "Soft Falling Rain." Especially the line, “If time has made anything clearer, it’s that he hasn’t spared her anything. Perhaps he really is ridiculous, as Molly frequently told him.”
As always, yup, all the werewolves' Beltane practices here are drawn from both my own experiences and my research. And here again is the werewolf character list:
the Alpha, a male in his 40s, the pack’s leader
Anna, or the Mother, the oldest pack member, symbolic mother of all
Brighid, or Fire, the Alpha’s mate, roughly his age
Serena, or Trouble, roughly Remus’ age
Jack, or Thunderstorm, a little younger than the Alpha, Ashmita’s mate
Ashmita, or Rock Crag, Jack’s mate
Ronan, or Hardwood, young adult member of the pack, perhaps 20
Narun, or Rapids, roughly the same age
Adair, or Jump, roughly the same age
Tamara, or Blackthorn, roughly the same age
Eirwen, or Slither, a young teenager, 13 or 14
Joy, or River Run, the pack’s youngest member, 6 or 7
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Folks, we're nearly to the end of this story! I can't quite believe it. Just three chapters still to go. I will do my best to stick to the one-chapter-a-week posting, but things may occasionally fall a little out of that rhythm, because I have some last edits still to make to these final chapters, and I'm also traveling a bit in May. But we're nearly there! Coming up next, a very iconic Remus/Tonks scene. ;-)
(continue to CHAPTER 20: Making a Scene)
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. (My Remus/Tonks epic, which has been years in the making! This is the second half of the story, set in the Half-Blood Prince year.)
Note: This was timing too good to be missed: This chapter takes place around and during Beltane, the Celtic celebration of spring. And out here in the real world, too, TODAY is Beltane. (Well, not in the UK anymore – but here in the US it's still May 1 for another hour or two.) Happy northern hemisphere/pagan/Celtic spring, everyone! I was out celebrating today, as part of a long-standing family tradition, despite the pouring rain.
Chapter 19: Beltane Eve
Secret heart, what are you made of?
What are you so afraid of?
–Ron Sexsmith, Secret Heart
Spring sunshine slanted through the trees, dappling the forest floor with light. High overhead, unseen among the many blossoming branches, birds trilled out fervent melodies, as if their tiny hearts might burst with the joy of springtime if they didn’t release some of that feeling through song.
Half a year ago, even a month ago, Tonks could never have predicted she would be patrolling the woods outside Hogsmeade on a bright spring afternoon – with Remus at her side.
She’d invited him along on her patrol as a way for them to meet in their role as liaisons while she was on duty, but somehow she’d failed to consider that this meant she was letting herself in for an entire afternoon of strolling side by side with Remus through the blossoming beauty of the springtime woods, trying to stay matter-of-fact and professional when Remus was right there, within arm’s reach.
“Now that the ground’s thawed, the pack will be breaking down the winter shelter. Right after Beltane,” Remus was saying.
There was something different in his bearing, after all this time with the werewolf pack. In every other respect he was still very much as she remembered – same wry voice, same warm, intelligent gaze – but there was a quiet confidence in the way Remus held himself these days. It suited him.
But it was so hard, so horrendously difficult, to walk along next to Remus and listen to the sound of the voice she’d missed so much all these months, and yet keep reminding herself not to want this too much. He was a colleague with whom she met periodically for an hour or two of discussion, that was all. She couldn’t, mustn’t allow herself to think of this as anything more than that.
Because if Tonks let herself save up thoughts and stories and amusing anecdotes in her mind, looking forward to each next time she would get to share all those things with Remus and watch an answering smile spread across his face, it only ever meant she would be destroyed once again each time he left.
If only Remus wouldn’t look at her with blazing longing, in little moments when he thought she didn’t see.
Like now: Tonks glanced away, peering through the woods towards a cluster of oak trees that stood a little more closely together than the rest, mentally assessing them for any signs of hidden danger, and she turned back to find Remus’ eyes on her. His gaze stuttered away the moment she looked, but too late – the desire in his gaze hit her like a Stunner spell.
Why did he look at her like that, and then insist he wanted nothing more than her friendship? What kind of stupidly iron control did this man possess?
Remus cleared his throat. “And you?”
“What?” Tonks gasped, startled.
“What’s the news from Hogsmeade? Is there anything I should know?”
Right. They were here to exchange news, not confidences. It was all business between them these days – just how Remus claimed to want it.
So Tonks told him about things in the village, and about a recent – but successfully deflected – Dementor attack. Remus grimaced in sympathy at that. As someone who’d made a study of magical beasts and Dark creatures, Remus understood well what Tonks faced every time her Aurorlog blared, summoning her to battle another horde of Dementors.
Tonks held her wand in hand as they walked, easy but alert. The year’s first snowdrops dotted the ground with delicate white blossoms. The oak and birch leaves overhead were vibrantly green and new. Tonks had never appreciated a spring so much as she did now, after living through a long, drab, lonely Hogsmeade winter.
And here was Remus, right here beside her, and the woods were bursting with spring, and they were talking about nothing but Death Eaters and Dementors.
The terrible sadness of it finally led Tonks to dare more. “How are you?” she asked, turning to Remus. “Really, I mean.” A breeze dipped and darted around them, fluttering strands of Tonks’ hair across her eyes. “You’ve convinced me you’re not in physical danger, living with the pack, and that’s good. It’s really good. But are you – are you happy?”
Remus looked down at the ground, then up at the sky. Finally, he looked at Tonks. “I wouldn’t say I’m unhappy,” he said.
Tonks pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh, despite herself. What a very Remus answer. “Please tell me that’s not Remus-code for ‘I’m miserable but too polite to say so.’”
Remus chuckled softly. He ducked down to look under a clump of bushes, but evidently came up satisfied that nothing darker than leaves and shadows lurked there. “No, no. I’m content. I enjoy living among my fellows, among other werewolves. I’ve learned an enormous amount I never even knew I needed to learn.”
Could you ever be content to live here again, among us non-werewolves? Tonks wondered. Are you ever coming back? But she carefully didn’t ask it. If Remus never returned to wizarding society, Tonks knew she couldn’t blame him. He had suffered so much at the hands of witches and wizards.
“But I miss –” Remus’ voice caught. “I do miss many things.”
For a moment it seemed he would say more, but then he swallowed the rest of whatever that thought had been.
Feeling suddenly reckless, Tonks burst out, “Feelings don’t just disappear when they’re not convenient anymore! You can’t Vanish them away. They – they’re still there, even when you try to tell yourself they shouldn’t be.”
And now of course it was terribly obvious that she was talking about her own feelings, not just his. She chanced a glance over at Remus, then quickly looked away again. The sorrow in his face was too terrible. In the sudden silence between them, Tonks could hear every twig that cracked beneath their feet.
“Dora – I –” Remus swallowed audibly, then started again. “I can’t give you what you deserve. I wish so much that I could.”
“I don’t care about any of that! All I want –”
“Dora. Please.” There was such anguish in his voice that Tonks couldn’t bring herself to push any further.
The ground they walked dipped into a small glen, where the forest floor was dotted with the green shoots of wildflowers pushing up out of the soil. Tonks’ throat felt raw, and every part of her ached to throw herself at Remus and tell him how she felt. Shake him hard enough that he might finally understand. But she clenched her hands at her sides and managed, barely, to hold herself back.
At long last, Remus spoke, keeping his voice painfully even. It must hurt, Tonks thought desperately. The effort to strip all emotion from his voice like that, it must hurt.
“I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy,” he said, very quietly. “I wish there were something I could do to make it so.”
Tonks wanted so badly to tell him how simple it could be. Just let go. Let me love you. But saying it again and again only tortured both of them, so she didn’t say it. Her eyes stung, but she didn’t say it.
It was absurd that it could be such a beautiful spring day and her heart could hurt this much, as she walked on in silence through the dappled woods with Remus.
– – – – –
On Beltane Eve, Remus watched Ashmita and Jack assembling with great care the pile of wood that would become a bonfire. Joy ran about underfoot, strewing the camp with armfuls of yellow flowers Eirwen and Ronan had helped her pick, hawthorn and gorse and kingcup.
The winter lean-to still stood, but they would dismantle it as soon as the Beltane festivities were over. Beltane marked the coming of the warm season. Where Samhain was the dying of the year, Beltane was its rebirth.
Remus had wondered what to expect of this bawdiest of seasonal holidays. He’d researched all of this long ago, and he knew Beltane was a fertility festival, a celebration of light and life and new growth returning to the world. Some celebrations could get quite…wild. His own pack didn’t seem the sort to let loose completely, but Beltane could bring out unpredictability in even the most staid of individuals.
As evening drew near, Remus was surprised to see Jack – Thunderstorm – working to start the fire using a crude hand drill made of a wooden spindle and a bit of board with a notch cut into it, rather than the usual flint.
Anna, the Mother, saw Remus watching curiously, and waved him over to her. He came and knelt respectfully beside her, where she sat on a tree stump outside the lean-to.
“On Beltane Eve, we do everything by hand, young City Wolf,” she said. The use of that old nickname didn’t rankle as it once had done. “That’s what makes this fire sacred. This is the fire that renews and cleanses us after such a long time enclosed in the darkness of winter. This fire will bless and protect us as the world turns again towards its bright morning.” A teasing note crept into her voice as she added, “I will tend the fire overnight, so you young ones can have your fun.”
Remus supressed a startled jerk of alarm. Just what sort of fun was she expecting him to get into?
Jack had worked up a spark now, and he transferred it deftly to a small pile of tinder and bark, where Ashmita helped him fan it into a flame. The flames caught and rose higher, as the sun sank behind the hills of the moor.
Once the sun had disappeared, the pack gathered around the bonfire and Brighid passed around warm wine and oatcakes. She poured a small measure of her drink onto the ground, then began to crumble her oatcake and scatter the pieces into the evening breeze, murmuring with each bit she broke off, “May this piece protect my loved ones… May this piece keep my foes at bay…”
The others did the same, scattering crumbs and whispering their own benedictions of protection.
Now Remus understood, too, why this bonfire hadn’t been built as high as the fires they’d had for other seasonal celebrations: because the next ritual required each adult member of the pack to take a great leap through the air over the fire’s purifying flames.
Aged Anna was exempt from this, and merely held her hands above the fire. Joy sulked when Serena told her she was too young, and Eirwen blushed with pleasure when the Alpha deemed her old enough to take part.
One by one, they squared up to the fire, tensed their muscles, and leapt.
When Remus’ turn came, he didn’t leave himself time to think, simply pushed off from the ground and leapt as high as he could, shouting in delight at the rush of heat and adrenalin as the flames blurred beneath his feet, and then he was over, safely on the other side.
They were all laughing now, in accomplishment and easy camaraderie. The Alpha cupped his hands above the fire, catching eddies of smoke and wafting them towards each of the pack members in turn, until he had blessed each of them with the protective powers of the fire. They settled down comfortably around the bonfire and Brighid passed the jug of wine again. Remus felt it warming his belly and weighing down his limbs, pleasant sensations after so many months of cold and want. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the fire, feeling the thrum of wine in his veins.
When Remus opened his eyes, he saw the pack had dispersed while he was wool-gathering. Brighid and the Alpha had disappeared together, as well as Jack and Ashmita. No surprises there; those were long-established couples.
Remus had worried how the spirit of Beltane Night might catch Ronan and Eirwen, who were increasingly close friends but surely a little young yet for Beltane’s more libidinous pleasures. But he saw the two of them simply sitting by the fire, heads bent close together as they chatted quietly. Joy rested sleepily against Anna’s knee, as the Mother stroked her hand over the fine plaits that lined Joy’s head.
During the passing of the wine flask, Remus had settled on the ground with his back against a log, in the shadows beyond the fire’s ring of light. Now he turned to see Serena sitting beside him.
Meeting her gaze, Remus knew how this night was meant to unfold. He was the newest adult in the pack, she an unpartnered adult. It would have been a reasonable match regardless, and all the better seeing that they got on well and considered one another friends. Remus knew Serena appreciated the kindness he showed her adoptive daughter. And there was no question that he liked and respected Serena and her no-nonsense brand of warmth. She was attractive, clever, and had been nothing but kind to him. As a potential partner, she made perfect sense.
Except that Remus’ heart lay elsewhere.
Remus himself could have made his peace with a partnership based on convenience and mutual appreciation, rather than love. In truth, such a partnership would be more than he had ever dared to hope for himself. But he would not ask that of Serena. She deserved a partner whose heart was hers.
Her eyes on him were warm and gentle, and Remus had to look away.
“I –” He cleared his throat and tried again. The words came out sounding scratchy and rough. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I know it’s Beltane, and it’s supposed to be – I know it’s – but I can’t.”
“Quiet,” Serena said softly. “Remus.”
He looked at her, surprised. She had never before used his human name.
“You don’t need to explain,” Serena said gently. “If it’s not what you want, that’s answer enough.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. Would he ever stop making choices that left him endlessly apologising to the people he cared about?
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, her voice firm. “Are we friends?”
“Yes,” Remus said. “Of course.”
“Good.” She reached out her hand, and Remus took it. “It’s Beltane,” Serena said. “The world is new. There’s so much to be thankful for.”
Remus nodded, his throat tight. He thought of Harry, still alive and fierce and strong, despite everything. He thought of Tonks, mercifully safe, or as close to safe as a terrifyingly brave Auror could ever be, going about her life and work in Hogsmeade. Truly, Remus had almost everything he could wish for.
He squeezed Serena’s hand gratefully, and her answering smile was a wistful flicker in the darkness. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and they sat together long into the night, watching the fire dance.
– – – – –
Remus woke with a crick in his neck, and the weight of Joy’s head balanced precariously against his knee. He’d fallen asleep with his back against the log, Serena’s hand still in his.
He opened his eyes to see Anna bending down and scooping up ashes from the fire that had nearly guttered out, only a few wisps of wan smoke still rising from the faded grey embers.
As Remus watched, Anna poured careful handfuls of ash into little woven-grass pouches he recognised as a project that had occupied Serena in recent days. He’d seen her weaving the pouches and attaching them to thin loops of grass twisted into cords. Now Remus finally understood their purpose, as he watched Eirwen, one of the first to wake, wander up to Anna, yawning. The woman looped one of the necklaces over the girl’s head, tucking the pouch beneath her clothing and murmuring words of blessing. Eirwen bowed her head in thanks.
Next to Remus, Serena stirred and mumbled. He glanced over and saw her blinking herself awake. Her hand in his squeezed once, gently, and let go.
Anna approached them now, bearing three of the woven grass pouches, which she deposited in Serena’s outstretched palm. Anna rested a gentle hand on Serena’s head for a moment as Serena murmured her thanks, then Anna continued on to rouse Ronan, who had also fallen asleep by the fire and was snoring with a soft whistling sound.
Serena turned to Remus, holding out one of the pouches to him. “For protection,” she said, though he had guessed this already. “Wear it until it falls off of its own accord.”
Nodding his thanks, Remus took the pouch, and Serena turned her attention to slipping one over Joy’s head and another over her own. Remus examined the small pouch in his hand. Its smell was both sweet and sharp, the green scent of grass mixed with the rough odour of wood smoke. He slipped the cord over his head and settled the pouch under his shirt where it rested lightly, its texture against his skin unfamiliar but not unpleasant.
The morning passed in the lazy doze of a hangover, although none of them had drunk all that much wine the night before. The two adult couples who had absconded in the night wandered back into camp, and no one blushed or seemed ashamed. Remus found it a refreshing change from the attitudes of much of human society.
They dismantled the lean-to piece by piece over the course of the afternoon, working together to pry out nails and stack boards into neat piles. Everything that could be reused, Jack explained to Remus, would be wrapped in a canvas tarp and stowed out of the way until the next winter. No reason to waste anything that could be used again.
Remus saw the Alpha watching him consideringly, during the day, so he wasn’t surprised when the Alpha called him aside late in the afternoon.
“I’d like you to take one or two of the pack into the city with you for a day,” the Alpha said. Then, frowning, he amended, “The village. Hogsmeade, where your wizarding school is. I would like them to see the city through your eyes. I had thought of Thunderstorm and Trouble as the two who might go with you, but you may suggest others instead if you wish.”
Thunderstorm and Trouble – Jack and Serena. Two pack members Remus considered friends, and trusted not to grow angry or defensive when confronted with all the things that were so inherently different about wizarding life. “Your suggestion is eminently suitable, Alpha,” he said. “I would be happy to show Hogsmeade to Thunderstorm and Trouble.”
The Alpha nodded. “Good. Arrange it with your friends in the city.”
– – – – –
Tonks paced, her feet describing tight loops on the pavement in front of the Three Broomsticks, oblivious to the warmth of the sun and the scent of spring blossoms wafting on the gentle breeze.
Remus was coming, today, with two other werewolves from the pack. What would they look like, how would they act, what would they say? What might she accidentally say and offend them, out of her own ignorance?
Remus generally turned up in threadbare clothes that bore the signs of hard living, with several days’ stubble or more, but he clearly took pains to look as presentable as was possible under the circumstances. And he still spoke like, well, like Remus. But werewolves who’d lived most of their lives away from society – how did they talk? What would conversation with them be like?
Tonks made another tight pivot on the pavement and saw them before they saw her: Remus, walking up the high street, with a man on one side of him and a woman on the other.
The man was big and broad-shouldered, with tanned skin, dark hair and a thick beard. For a moment Tonks wondered if this was the Alpha. He had the right look for it, powerful and self-assured. But no, surely the Alpha had better things to do than play tourist in a wizarding town. This would be another member of the pack.
The woman was of average height, dark-skinned with neatly curling black hair. She had, Tonks thought, a kind-looking face, though she couldn’t have said exactly what made her think that. Both of them dressed as Remus did, in simple, practical clothing, much of which looked homemade. Their appearance was not so out of the ordinary, though, that they would stand out oddly in the streets of Hogsmeade. Which had been another of Tonks’ worries, that they would draw stares, which would be understandably unpleasant for them, which could wreck this whole attempt at establishing normal relations before it had even started.
She took a deep, steadying breath, and breathed out slowly.
Remus spotted Tonks and picked up his pace. When he and the others reached her, they stopped abruptly, and all four of them stood there on the pavement, looking at each other.
“Wotcher,” Tonks said.
Remus blinked a few times, like he was trying to find his feet in the oddness of this situation. “Dora, this is –” he faltered, and glanced at the other two in turn.
“Human names are fine,” the woman said, which struck Tonks as a rather cryptic comment, but Remus seemed to understand. He nodded.
“This is Serena, and this is Jack,” Remus said. The big man chuckled, as if he found the sound of their names amusing. “And this is Nymphadora Tonks, but everyone calls her Tonks.”
“Nice to meet you,” the woman – Serena – said. She reached out and shook Tonks’ hand. The gesture was perfectly polite, but it felt somehow unpractised, like she hadn’t shaken hands in years and was drawing on old memories to remember how to do so. The man, Jack, glanced at the woman as if taking his cues from her about this strange human custom, and he shook Tonks’ hand as well.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Tonks said. There was another off-kilter pause, but Tonks reminded herself firmly to get it together and behave like a professional. She gave them a big smile. “So – I’m happy to show you around, but I don’t know what you’d like to see, exactly. Just, walk around and see the town?”
She looked to Remus and he stepped in smoothly. “Yes, that’s the idea,” he said. “I thought we could have a look around the town, and I can share some of my own memories from my schooldays here. And perhaps you could tell us a bit about Hogsmeade, too, since you’re living here right now?”
“Yes, of course,” Tonks said, glad to have been handed a straightforward opening topic. She launched into an overview of Hogsmeade life and history as the four of them started along the high street.
It wasn’t too awkward, once they got going. They were able to walk four abreast, aside from occasionally having to weave past the displays that were set out on the pavement in front of some of the shops. Tonks told anecdotes about the village, and from time to time Remus added his own comments, the flow of conversation between the two of them as uncomplicated as ever. Tonks had the sense that the other two were at least as interested in observing the dynamic between her and Remus as they were in the sights and sounds of the village. The werewolf and the human, as friends: a case study.
“Zonko’s Joke Shop,” Remus explained, when they stopped in front of the shop. “My friends and I spent more time here than almost anywhere else, on the days when they let us visit the village from school. We were terrible pranksters.”
“You, a prankster?” the woman, Serena, asked. “Sorry, Quiet, but I can’t picture it!”
Remus chuckled. “And you at some point earned yourself the name ‘Trouble,’ and I can’t picture that either.”
“Point taken,” she agreed with a smile.
There were swaths of backstory here, Tonks was forcefully reminded, common ground between the members of the pack that she wasn’t privy to. These were people Remus had lived with at close quarters for months now, depending on one another for their survival. There was so much she didn’t know.
Seeming to sense the direction of her thoughts, Remus turned to Tonks and smiled, that gentle smile of his that had been making her knees go weak for as long as she’d known him. “I’ve told you how everyone in the pack has another name besides their human name, right? Mine is ‘Quiet,’ for obvious reasons.”
His eyes sparkled, and Tonks understood the gift he was giving her: The pack knew one side of him, the quiet, fair-minded, serious side, the side that was the only one Remus ever let most people see. But Tonks had been allowed to see another side of him, the hidden Marauder who still delighted in boyish jokes and wry wit, a man she could easily picture exploring secret passageways and inventing spells as a boy, and who had – as he’d once admitted to her, half rueful and half pleased – helped his friends sneak into the Slytherin dormitories, steal the other boys’ underpants and hang them up in the Great Hall using Sticking Spells so strong, it had taken the combined efforts of several Hogwarts professors nearly an entire school day to undo them.
The werewolf pack knew some parts of Remus, but he had trusted Tonks with so much more.
“Yes, quietest man I’ve ever known,” Tonks managed, and she gave Remus a cautious smile as they continued on their way.
They walked on through the village, Remus chatting easily, sharing anecdotes from his schooldays, clearly eager to present Hogwarts in a positive light. Tonks knew how deeply he wished for this bridging of the two cultures, for it to one day be possible that all werewolf children might get the chance to receive a Hogwarts education, as Remus had done, and live a life as equals among wizards. He steered them clear of the Shrieking Shack, and she didn’t blame him. He had few happy memories there.
They fetched up again in front of the Three Broomsticks and Tonks suggested, “How about a drink?” Then she added hurriedly, “It’s on me.” She didn’t know if the other two werewolves even used money, and Remus was always sparing with the little gold he had. She suspected Dumbledore had convinced him to accept a small allowance for exactly these sorts of situations, when his work for the Order required him to meet with contacts over a drink or a meal. But knowing Remus, the allowance he’d been willing to accept would be small indeed.
“Sure,” said Serena, glancing at the door of Three Broomsticks with curiosity. “Can’t remember the last time I was in a proper pub.”
Tonks bit back all the questions she wanted to ask – How old Serena had been when she was bitten? How much did she remember of wizarding life? Instead, she nodded politely and led the way inside.
Once they’d sorted out a table and chairs for themselves, Tonks went to the bar to order: Jack wanted whisky; Serena seemed nostalgic for butterbeer, though she hadn’t quite come right out and said so; and Remus, unnecessarily abstemious as usual, had simply asked for tea. Tonks had rolled her eyes fondly at him, then turned away and shut down that feeling as quickly as she could, because letting herself feel even the least bit fond only meant she would feel his absence all the more achingly when he left again.
Rosmerta seemed distracted as she took Tonks’ order, though that probably had to do with a large party of out-of-town wizards taking up one whole corner of the pub and calling out loudly for drinks. Rosmerta looked wan, as she always did these days.
Tonks returned to the table with their drinks, and found Remus and the other two chatting comfortably. It still surprised her to see him like this, so at ease with the others. She’d been wrong about the dangers of living with werewolves, or at least with these particular werewolves, and she was glad to have been proved wrong. Remus’ mission no longer seemed so dangerous and mad.
“Drinks!” Tonks said cheerfully, sliding the four glasses onto the table, pleased with herself when she managed to spill not even a drop of any of them. She distributed the glasses and cups around, then slid into her own seat, between Serena and Jack and across from Remus.
Wanting to encourage the atmosphere of camaraderie they’d built up over the course of the afternoon, silently hoping she wasn’t pushing it too far, Tonks said, “All right. Tell me the most ridiculous thing ‘Quiet’ has done in his time living with you.”
Then she held her breath, hoping she’d judged the mood of the group right. To her relief, Serena burst out laughing and launched into a complicated story about something Remus had done in his wolf form – and that was a whole other complicated topic, because here was someone who’d experienced Remus in his transformed state and could tell stories about it, in a way Tonks would never be able to do.
Not something she should get lost in thinking about right now, though.
Jack went on to describe a spot on the moor where Remus liked to wander, the place that had earned him his nickname of ‘Quiet,’ and the conversation continued smoothly on from there.
When she’d drained the last of her butterbeer, Serena looked over at Tonks and said, “I’d like to see the school, Hogwarts. Would that be possible?”
Tonks blinked. “Yes. Of course. We won’t be able to go inside the grounds, because security’s really tight right now, but we can have a look at it from outside. It’s a bit of a walk from the village, but if you don’t mind…”
“I don’t mind,” Serena said. “Thunderstorm?”
That seemed to mean Jack. He shrugged. “Sure. Alpha doesn’t expect us back until evening, anyway.”
“All right,” Remus said. Tonks glanced at him and tried to parse the complicated emotions that flitted across his face in the wake of Serena’s request. “Dora, you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind,” Tonks said.
So the four of them walked the road from the village to the castle. They stopped in front of the stone gates with their winged boars, and gazed up at the school. Seeing it through visitors’ eyes, Tonks appreciated anew what an impressive sight Hogwarts made. And if Serena and Jack could see the castle, then they clearly had magical ability, despite not practising wand magic, so that was another question answered.
Jack seemed indifferent, but Serena gazed up at the castle for a long time. Tonks glanced at Remus and wondered what he was thinking. She knew he considered Hogwarts one of the only homes he’d ever had.
“All right,” Serena said finally. “I’ve seen it. That’s good enough.” She seemed sad, or maybe just wistful, in a way Tonks couldn’t quantify. Serena glanced over at Jack, then at Remus. “We should get back.”
Jack glanced up at the sky. He was telling the time by the position of the sun, Tonks realised. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone do that. “Agreed,” he said.
They both looked at Remus. He would have had to Side-Along Apparate them here, Tonks knew, since they didn’t use wands. And that meant they were dependent on Remus to bring them back home, as well. She sucked in a quiet breath as she appreciated what a level of trust in him that implied.
Tonks turned to Remus, and found him looking at her gravely. “Thank you, Dora,” he said. “I know how busy you are with work. I appreciate that you took this time to meet us.”
“My pleasure,” she said, then turned to Serena and Jack. “Seriously, it was great to meet you. And you’re welcome here any time. We’re not all –” She hesitated, not sure how candidly she should speak. “We’re not all prejudiced. Not all wizards think all that horrible stuff that the people who make the laws would have us believe.”
A small smile quirked at one side of Serena’s mouth, a hint of a hidden, warm emotion. “Yes,” she said. “I can see that. Thank you.”
Both of them, Serena and Jack, shook her hand again, then Tonks turned to Remus, her heart in her throat. Shaking hands would be too strangely formal. Anything more than that would be too much. But doing nothing at all would look strange in front of the others.
His expression still grave, Remus said, “Happy birthday, in case I don’t see you before then. I hope it’s a good one.”
Tonks blinked. She’d hardly thought about it, but yes, her birthday was coming in a few days’ time. And now she was thinking of last year, cosily gathered in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place with her parents and Remus and Sirius –
She forced that memory aside.
“Thanks,” she said, trying to keep her tone cheerful. The others didn’t need to know how sad it made Tonks to think of spending this birthday without both of them, Remus and Sirius.
Remus’ eyes flicked to Tonks’ drab, unhappy brown hair for the barest moment, before returning to her face. “Be well, Dora. I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes,” she said, her throat tight. “See you soon.” Remus took out his wand, and the other two each put a hand on one of his arms. As he raised his wand, Remus’ eyes met Tonks’ with such a depth of emotion that she reeled.
And then they were gone.
– – – – –
“Well,” Remus said, trying to sound light-hearted. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
His heart was still pounding. Every time he saw Tonks he thought it would surely get a little easier, but that was never true. Any time she was present, Remus could barely tear his eyes away.
But the success of this friendship-making mission was more important than his personal feelings, so he tried to hide his reeling heart away. He stowed his wand safely beneath a rock, and the three of them started towards camp, he and Serena and Jack.
Serena cast him a sidelong look.
But Jack only said, shrugging easily, “Yeah, not bad. Wouldn’t want to live there all the time, though. Too many buildings.”
Remus had to stop himself from laughing out loud. In all his years of experience with Hogsmeade, that was one way he would never have thought to describe the village: as too urban.
“Your friend was very kind,” Serena said. “Alpha is right. It’s good to go and have a look for ourselves, and see that not all witches and wizards are like we imagine them to be.”
They reached the pack in time for dinner, and shared stories of the day around the cooking fire with the rest of the pack. Joy, of course, wanted to hear every detail.
It wasn’t until late in the evening that Serena caught Remus alone. He was sitting on his piece of canvas, inexpertly trying to repair a damaged bow and arrow Jack had pressed into his hands. Jack seemed to think it good practice for Remus to attempt these tasks, even if the results were rarely impressive. Serena dropped down beside him.
“Mother told me once,” she said, “that she believes you left a mate behind in the city when you came here. Someone you still love.”
Remus fumbled, the bow slipping from his hand. He hurriedly picked it up again.
“I think I met her today,” Serena said softly. “Am I right?”
He could, if he chose, refuse to answer her. It was a highly personal question, and Remus would be well within his rights if he refused to answer, even here in this pack that shared everything.
But he was so tired of refusing.
“Yes,” Remus said, keeping his eyes cast down at the bow in his hands.
“What made you leave her?” Serena asked quietly.
“I am a werewolf,” he said. The same refrain, the same inescapable excuse for everything that was broken in Remus’ life, the same excuse he’d been repeating for nearly as long as he’d been alive. “I’ve learned to live with the indignities that entails, when living in human society. But I wouldn’t wish all that trouble on someone who is unbroken and whole.”
“I have to say, it didn’t seem like she would mind.”
“No,” Remus agreed. “That has never been in doubt. Dora is extraordinary that way. But I won’t impose the difficulties of my life on her. I couldn’t do that to someone I – love. So I decided it would be better to remove myself. I’ve only ever wanted to keep her safe,” he added, his voice stuttering into emotion on that last word.
“Oh, Quiet,” Serena said. “And have you made her any safer or happier by breaking her heart?”
“No,” Remus said, pushing the word past the constriction in his throat. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Life is precarious,” Serena said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Every werewolf knows that. Each winter could be our last. Better to have joy today, than to refuse it out of fear for what might happen tomorrow.”
Remus shook his head, trying to shake away Serena’s words. She didn’t understand. She meant well, but it wasn’t as simple as she made it sound.
Yet he lay awake a long time that night, thinking about what Serena had said. Yes, Remus wished he could have the joy of being together with Tonks. And far more than he wanted it for himself, he wanted Tonks to have that joy. In rejecting the love she offered him, he’d been trying to spare her hardship, but instead he’d hurt her terribly.
More and more, the long-lost voices that lived in Remus – Sirius, James and Lily, his mother, his father – all seemed to be converging in his heart to tell him the same thing that Serena had said: that love was worth even this risk.
And yet the question remained, forever the same question: He himself was willing to take that risk, and dare to love. But did he dare inflict himself, a dangerous Dark creature, on the woman he loved?
Chapter end notes:
Many notes! The "stealing the Slytherins' underpants" anecdote is from my Remus/Marauders story "In the Wrong House." And the mention of Tonks' birthday the previous year, that's in "Be the Light in My Lantern," chapter 16: "The Calm Before the Storm."
So many fic writers have inspired me and expanded my understanding about these characters and what they might be thinking during various parts of their story; for this chapter in particular, I'd like to mention gilpin25 and her story "Soft Falling Rain." Especially the line, “If time has made anything clearer, it’s that he hasn’t spared her anything. Perhaps he really is ridiculous, as Molly frequently told him.”
As always, yup, all the werewolves' Beltane practices here are drawn from both my own experiences and my research. And here again is the werewolf character list:
the Alpha, a male in his 40s, the pack’s leader
Anna, or the Mother, the oldest pack member, symbolic mother of all
Brighid, or Fire, the Alpha’s mate, roughly his age
Serena, or Trouble, roughly Remus’ age
Jack, or Thunderstorm, a little younger than the Alpha, Ashmita’s mate
Ashmita, or Rock Crag, Jack’s mate
Ronan, or Hardwood, young adult member of the pack, perhaps 20
Narun, or Rapids, roughly the same age
Adair, or Jump, roughly the same age
Tamara, or Blackthorn, roughly the same age
Eirwen, or Slither, a young teenager, 13 or 14
Joy, or River Run, the pack’s youngest member, 6 or 7
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Folks, we're nearly to the end of this story! I can't quite believe it. Just three chapters still to go. I will do my best to stick to the one-chapter-a-week posting, but things may occasionally fall a little out of that rhythm, because I have some last edits still to make to these final chapters, and I'm also traveling a bit in May. But we're nearly there! Coming up next, a very iconic Remus/Tonks scene. ;-)
(continue to CHAPTER 20: Making a Scene)
