Remorse

Chapter Eighteen: Home

It was funny how little things told you when people were in or out of their proper places, Tonks thought as they walked to the village. Remus was not a tall man, and he kept tripping over the hems of the borrowed professor’s robes he was wearing. In the same situation she would have looked like a little kid playing dress-ups, if she managed to stay on her feet at all. But he managed to look professorial and dignified in spite of it all. He belonged in those clothes, and she promised herself that one day – if it were in her power to make it happen – he would have the chance to teach again.

Ben Savage met them at the Auror office and led them back the dimly lit corridor to the single holding cell. “Robards left for the evening,” he explained. “Expect he’s gone to the pub to celebrate – as best he can under the circumstances.”

The prisoner was a man of around forty, gaunt and weather-worn. His hair was matted and his clothing filthy, but he lacked the mad, wild look that Tonks had come to associate with Fenrir’s people – not that she’d ever seen any of them except Fenrir and Ferdinand.

She saw at once that he and Remus recognized each other, though neither of them showed any sign of great surprise. “So,” said the prisoner in a resigned voice. “Gone back to using your real name?”

Remus flushed but said nothing.

Tonks thought it best to keep the encounter swift and formal. “Do you identify this man as Philandros Craddock?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Remus.

“Philandros Craddock, you are charged in the name of the Ministry of Magic with the murder of Gareth Montgomery, age five, and with repeated and willful violations of the Werewolf Code of Conduct, including but not limited to the failure to take Wolfsbane. By order of the Ministry of Magic, the penalty for a werewolf who kills a human while transformed, whether willfully or negligently, is life in Azkaban.”

“You work for a ministry of cowards,” said Craddock. “Death’s preferable to rotting in that place, but if it was death your lot couldn’t pat themselves on the back and congratulate themselves on their humanity.”

Tonks said nothing for a moment. She was inclined to think that Craddock was right. “I’m sorry. I didn’t make the laws.”

Craddock shrugged. “Bring it on. It won’t be the only life sentence I’m serving.”

“You haven’t been convicted yet,” she said feebly, “and it isn’t my place to judge you. I’m here to let you know of the charges and record any statements you make in response. Do you wish to say anything in your defense?”

“Aye, I do,” said Craddock, but he was looking at Remus, not at her. “I gave the kid death,” he said bitterly. “What would Fenrir have given him that would have been better?”

“Fenrir wouldn’t have taken him,” said Remus. “The parents got there first.”

“Fenrir gets his own in the end. You ought to know that by now.” Craddock laughed bitterly. “Maybe I should’ve given you death too. I could’ve, you know. But I honor my debts.”

“What?”

“I knew all along that you were a spy, Remus.”

“How –” said Remus. He broke off, and his eyes widened. “You were the child with the mangled arm. My father saved your life.”

Craddock nodded. “You weren’t hard to spot. You’re the spittin’ image of your mum. But I didn’t see any reason to stick my neck out. Fenrir’s dealt hard with me over the years, and if he can’t spot a spy without help from me, that’s his own look-out.”

“I think you did stick your neck out,” said Remus slowly. “I would have died last winter if you hadn’t taken me to my mother’s house.”

“Don’t make too much of it. Like I said, I honor my debts, and they’re paid up now. You can walk away with a clean conscience. Clean as it ever was, anyway.”

She glanced at Remus, who had recoiled at these last few words as if Craddock had struck him in the face. “Let’s go,” she said firmly.

 

                                                            *          *          *

“What did you mean when you said you would have died if he hadn’t helped you?” Tonks asked as they walked back toward the castle.

He explained.

She didn’t speak for a long time. “Do you remember that I told you there were two werewolves in the Registry who matched the description Mrs. Montgomery gave me, and the other one had an alibi?”

“Are you saying you’re not positive he’s the one who killed Gareth? But he confessed – or as good as confessed – I thought.”

She shook her head. “Oh no, the alibi’s rock-solid. Your own mother confirmed it.”

“My mother? What on earth does she – Oh. Oh, my God. You must have had an awful few days of it.”

“I did.”

“What would you have done if it had been me?”

“I don’t know. I went through with the investigation – I hated myself every step of the way, until I talked to your mum, but Gawain trusted me and I would have hated betraying him too. And I needed to know the truth, for myself, but I don’t know what I would have done with it once I did know.”

“Dora,” he said slowly, “I need you to promise me something. It will be a very hard promise to make, but I wouldn’t be with you at all if I didn’t have complete faith in your strength and courage. If I am ever in danger of killing or injuring anyone else, knowingly or not, I want you to promise that you will do everything in your power to protect that person. Everything. If it is my life or theirs, take mine. I shouldn’t want it, and it would only be a burden to me if you bought it at such a price. Will you do that for me?”

She looked up at him, her dark grey eyes wide, and he was afraid for a moment that she would refuse.

“Yes,” she said. “But if I miss – or if I’m not there – and the worst does happen someday, will you promise that you’ll let yourself live afterward? Because there isn’t any sense in throwing away two lives for one.”

“I’ll try,” he said. And maybe, he thought as he looked at her, he would have something worth living for.

“We’re all trying. That’s all I can ask, really.”

They were back at the castle by now, and they went upstairs to the guest wing without another word.

“So,” she said, pulling the door of the guest room closed behind them. “That’s settled, then?”

“Settled,” he said, and leaned forward to kiss her. Almost before he realized it, things had gone a great deal farther than kissing, and while some part of him thought this shouldn’t be happening, not so soon after Dumbledore’s death – still, it was, and it felt like the right thing to do, after all.

“We don’t have to –” he whispered. “I mean, if you’d like to wait –”

This was a silly thing to say, he realized, because she was the one undoing his robes in a rather determined fashion. “I’ve waited too long already,” she said decisively.

“So have I,” he admitted. He drew in his breath as she slipped a hand under his clothing. “Oh, my God. You’ve no idea.”

Soberer common sense began to prevail as she slid Snape’s loose-fitting robes from his shoulders and he realized that he felt uncertain about being naked in front of her. She was too pretty, and much too young.

“I’m not much to look at,” he warned her. “All bones and scars.”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I like your bones – you’ve got nice ones. And I’ve got my share of scars myself.”

She had taken off her own robes, and he saw that she had an angry-looking, sickle-shaped curse scar that began under her round little breasts and ran down one of her sides. “Good God. Did Bellatrix do that to you?”

She nodded.

“Does it still hurt you?” He reached out a cautious hand, and found that her nipples grew tight and hard at his touch.

“Sometimes. It’s getting better.”

“I’ll be very gentle.”

She laughed and leaned forward, sliding her hand up the inside of his thigh in a way that made him shiver with pleasure. “Oh no, you don’t have to be. Not at all.”

 

                                                            *          *          *

Tonks woke at three o’clock in the morning. She lay still for a few minutes, thinking about the man who lay warm and safe beside her, and the stranger in the Hogsmeade holding cell, and the law. She had fallen asleep wondering what she ought to do, but she was certain now, and delay would only make it harder.

She sat up, shivering in the chill of the early hours, and began to pull on her robes.

Remus stirred. “Where are you going?” he whispered.

“Shh. Just down to the Hogsmeade office. Night duty, perfectly routine. You’ll get used to it.”

“Take care,” he murmured. He was asleep again by the time she bent down to kiss him on the forehead, and she felt glad of it. In a few hours, he would know or guess what she was about to do, but for now the responsibility was hers alone.

The little village lay sleeping before her, and nothing stirred as she walked through its streets. The only light shining at that hour was the one in the front room of the Auror office. Nerissa Proudfoot looked up as she opened the door.

“Dawlish asked me to relieve you,” Tonks explained. “Didn’t say so much as sorry for waking me up.”

“Have at it.” Nerissa stood up and yawned. “Better you than me. I’ve been here since two o’clock this afternoon. The prisoner’s asleep, expect you’ll have a quiet night of it.”

Tonks took the keys and walked down the corridor to the holding cell. Craddock, as Nerissa had said, was asleep – curled up on the floor, rather than on the pallet bed provided for prisoners. She had the distinct impression that he didn’t know what the bed was for.

“Wake up,” she whispered.

Craddock rubbed his eyes and groaned as she unlocked the cell.

“I believe your story and I don’t mean to keep you here. But you’d best get as far from here as you can before morning.” He wouldn’t get very far without money, she realized, so she reached into her pockets and came up with a small handful of Galleons. “Take this. It’s enough to get you to France and set you up with food and housing for a few days. The laws aren’t so hard on werewolves there. Take the Knight Bus to Dover, and from there you can Apparate across the Channel. Stay away from Portkeys and the Floo Network – the Ministry monitors them – and don’t try to Apparate the whole distance, or you’ll Splinch yourself.”

Even as she spoke, she felt how absurd this plan was. Craddock had no marketable skills and no French; what was he supposed to do in France? “Or Ireland,” she said desperately. “They’re not so enlightened about werewolves, but at least they have a different Ministry and they won’t be looking for you just yet. If you take the bus to Holyhead, that’s close enough to Apparate to Dublin, or you can take one of the new Jumping Trains...”

Craddock, now fully awake, was staring at her as if she were speaking Greek.

“Oh, never mind, just go somewhere! Preferably somewhere that isn’t in Britain and isn’t with Greyback.”

She pressed the money into his hand, and at last he seemed to take in the fact that the door stood open before him. He pushed past her without a word of thanks or farewell.

She stood alone in the empty office. She could almost hear Moody’s voice: You shouldn’t sink the boat. You can’t get away with it but once in your career ... I reckon you’ve got sense enough to know if that time ever comes.

And slowly, slowly, the sky grew pale with the grey light of dawn.

 

                                                            *          *          *

Facing Gawain Robards was even worse than she had imagined it would be. She’d thought it would be like being called on the carpet by Dawlish, only more so, and she’d braced herself for a barrage of questions and accusations and insults that might go on for hours. Gawain didn’t stay long, and he said almost nothing. It was clear that as far as he was concerned, there was almost nothing to say. Also, he brought his sister.

“I trusted in your competence,” he said quietly. “I spoke up for you when Titus Dawlish wanted you sacked. It appears that I was wrong.”

Gawain turned his back on her and left her alone with Yseult.

“You foolish, foolish girl,” said Yseult, almost in a whisper. “If you had to do something for him, could you not have brought him poison?”

Tonks was about to protest that it was not her place to tell a man to commit suicide when she realized the full import of the question. Yseult knew that Craddock’s disappearance was no accident. And she had some idea of the motive.

“He can buy his own poison now,” she said. “It won’t surprise me if that’s exactly what he does, if that’s any comfort to you.”

“If you shield and shelter a viper,” said Yseult, “it will bite you in the end. But I suppose you will have to learn that the hard way. I did.” She turned her back and walked out of the room.

Tonks managed to walk back to the castle and upstairs to the guest wing before she burst into tears. Remus was there, which wasn’t much of a comfort at first, because lately she’d felt like she wasn’t good at anything besides snapping at him, crying, and getting into trouble at work, and she would dearly have liked to let him see another side of her.

But he took her in his arms and listened to her rather incoherent explanation, and she found that she was glad he was there, after all.

“Are you going to lose your job?” he asked when she had finished.

She hadn’t even thought about this possibility. “No, I don’t think so,” she said after considering the idea for a moment. “They can’t afford to sack me, not when it takes three years to train an Auror, and just now we need all the people on the ground we can get. I won’t be looking at a promotion for a long, long time, but that’s all.” She wondered if she deserved to be sacked, and if she’d feel any better if she had been.

“That’s not so bad, then. You’ll weather it.”

“Gawain won’t,” she said. “Gareth Montgomery was his nephew.” She struggled to find the words to explain how she felt about what she’d done to Gawain, and how she’d struck Yseult one final blow. She wasn’t sure she was making sense, and before she finished speaking she was crying again.

Remus held her until she had stopped sobbing, and then took a step back and looked her in the eye. “Tell me something, Dora. According to your own conscience, and leaving aside what anybody else says about it, do you believe you did the right thing?”

“I don’t believe I could have done anything else,” she said.

“Perhaps I’m going to sound like the last person in the world who should be giving you this advice, but I do know whereof I speak, so take it for what it’s worth. It isn’t worth drowning yourself in remorse when you made the only choice you could make. It’ll poison everything that happens afterward if you let it.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Then, as you so wisely said to me yesterday, it’s better to let go and let yourself live.” He moved closer and kissed her on the forehead. “All right?”

She tried to smile. “Getting better. It might take a while.”

“I know. For me, too.”

 

                                                            *          *          *

“Lila?”

Julie Tomkins drew backward for a moment, disbelieving, and then bent down to take her daughter in her arms, her face aglow. She looked years younger. The reunion seemed much simpler than Tonks had expected. And then she saw Remus stiffen, and she knew that this wasn’t going to be simple at all.

“There are some things you need to know,” said Tonks after a moment. “The first and most important one is that Ferdinand Calabria is still at large. Does he know how to find you here?”

Of course he did. If Tonks had been able to find the place with no more help than the telephone book, so could Ferdinand.

“I don’t know,” said Julie. Then she added, more decisively, “We’ll move. And change our names if we have to.”

“Good. I don’t mean to alarm you, but I suggest you do that.”

Julie said nothing, but she was gripping Lila’s shoulder as if it were a lifeline.

“Something else you ought to know,” said Remus, “is that June, I mean Lila, will have a place at a boarding school called Hogwarts. You’ll be getting a letter from the Headmaster in July, but I thought you ought to know right away. You don’t have to let her go, but I strongly suggest that you do, for reasons I’d be happy to explain. Also, I need to talk to you as soon as possible about living with lycanthropy. When are you free?”

“Lyca –”

“Being a werewolf.”

Julie drew in her breath. “This isn’t ... things aren’t ever going to be normal again, are they?”

“No, Mrs. Tomkins. I’m afraid they won’t. But you and Lila will make it through.”

 

                                                            *          *          *

“My mother’s in town for the funeral,” said Remus, “and I’d like you to meet her. She’s the only family I’ve got – oh, right, apart from an uncle and some cousins I don’t know very well – and I believe she’d think the world of you.”

“We’ve met,” said Tonks awkwardly. “A couple of times, actually. Maybe they weren’t under the best of circumstances, though.”

“All the more reason why I should introduce you to each other properly.”

She seemed to find this suggestion more unsettling than Remus had expected, and spent several minutes pacing, fussing with her robes, and trying out different colors of hair.

“What do you think?” she asked at last. She seemed to have settled on something severe and black that made her look several years older.

“Truthfully? I’m partial to the pink, if you’re feeling up to it.”

She looked doubtful. “D’you think it would look right at a funeral, though? I hate to think what my mum would say if she were here –”

“Professor Dumbledore would have liked it.”

“You’re right. He would.” Pink streaks appeared at the roots of her hair, and spread outward.

“Ready?” Remus asked, and almost immediately felt that it was a foolish question. Nobody was ready, not for this, but still they had to go on. And go on they would.

“Yeah.” She reached for his arm, and they walked, hand in hand, out into the morning sunlight.

 

                                                            *          *          *

Celia sat half-listening to Dumbledore’s eulogy. It was a dignified, proper, and really rather stupid speech, delivered by an obscure department head in the Ministry of Magic. As everyone knew, Scrimgeour’s decision not to speak had political implications. Beside her, Linus was observing the rest of the Ministry delegation with a keen eye, and Celia was sure some of them would put in an appearance in the next number of Martin Miggs. Not Professor Stumblebum, though, who had been one of the regular characters for more than twenty years. He would never appear again.

She had disagreed with many of Dumbledore’s decisions in recent years, particularly the way he guarded his knowledge about Lord Voldemort from the public, and she knew Linus disagreed with even more of them. It didn’t seem to matter now. Now she grieved for the passing of a great teacher – the Transfiguration master who had lent her books, answered her questions patiently, and encouraged her to experiment rather than rely on the words of authorities – and more than that, the headmaster who had given her son a chance for an education. That was enough. That was as great a legacy as any man could hope to leave.

A number of the onlookers gasped as the bier burst into flames. Celia, who knew how the effect was created, had been expecting something of the sort. She had not expected to catch the flash of a silvery phoenix amid the flames. She remembered that old witches and wizards used to say that sometimes, if you looked hard enough into the fire, you could catch a glimpse of a departing soul taking flight. Flying home.

She wondered what her brother would think of that idea, and decided that maybe it would please him.

And then it was over, and people were drifting away from the lake in groups of two or three, talking in whispers. Remus was among them. He was with a young girl with bright pink hair. Celia thought for a moment that she might be a former student, and then she came near enough to see that the girl had charcoal-grey eyes like Sirius Black, and recognized her. So they had found each other again, after all. Celia was glad of it.

“Hello, Mum,” said Remus. “I’ve come home.”