Symmetry and Discord

Chapter Two

The Beast and The Beauty

The woman simply could not tame her hair. It was long, dark brown, and permanently frizzed from years of neglect, malnutrition, and being habitually twisted and matted between long, frail fingers. Brushing it child-like out of her gaunt and sunken face, she stared wildly, hungrily, at the woman lying before her, her skin paled in the candlelight. I want to be beautiful like her again. Again... like her...

Very, very pretty, the woman thought. Very pretty, indeed. He knows her well. Knows her. He trusts her -- trusts her opinion implicitly. Trusts her opinion. Genius. Genius of me to find her so easily. Genius of me to use her - physically and mentally -- to my advantage. Genius to use her.

She turned to the servant cowering next to her. "I see light. Fix the curtain. Fix it. Now. I've seen enough daylight today. Enough today." Despite the now full daylight, the expansive and chilly room was pitch dark. The woman's maidservant ensured that all of the curtains were drawn and tightly fastened. After nearly a decade in darkness, she still, two years later, could scarcely tolerate the light of day.

Although only days had passed since the fateful event, she had planned her attack carefully - certainly, she had had time to plot. The woman had three targets. One she would crush with physical blows, the other, with emotional blows. The third she would capture alive - and use for a higher purpose - a far higher purpose. There will be collateral damage - including this lovely thing. There will be damage. Thus far, the stratagem worked like a dream.

The first target murdered the love of her life. The second -- loved the one who killed him. The capture and use of the third was mere delicious irony. As insane as the motives would be to anyone else, they were perfectly rational to the dark-haired woman. Symmetry - a curse for a curse. A love for a love. A body for a body. Makes perfect sense. Perfect sense.

The woman lying on the floor stirred slightly. She was still unconscious, still fully clothed, and still beautiful, despite the ragged and wild condition of her own hair. She was attractive like the long-haired woman had not been in years. It had been years since the woman's own beauty was ravaged, years since she had been touched, loved, desired, years since.... Yes, the woman told herself, shaking the last thought from her head, she is perfect. Perfect.

The servant returned to the woman's side, carrying two large vials. One contained a blue, shimmering liquid. The other contained a greenish-yellow concoction. The servant held both vials up to her master. "The rest is ready, mistress. I had stores of it made months ago, mistress, just like you asked, mistress."

The mistress reached out and took both vials in her hands, admiring the handiwork. She held the blue liquid up in to the small chink of light that stubbornly sliced through the pall and caught sparkling dust motes within the immense room. "Yes," the woman's eyes widened and her lips curled into an insane smile. "These are perfect." The smile broadened. "I will have them. I will avenge. I will reach my goal. I will perform my service dutifully. Dutifully avenge. Dutifully perform." She turned to her servant. "And you will assist me. You will."

* * * *

"Robert?" Tonks asked tentatively. She sat up from the couch and pulled one hand through her long, dark brown hair, her face contorting in an expression of slight disgust.

"Yeah? What's up?" He sat up along side her, watching her carefully.

"Would you care so much...," she stammered, "...if I, well, if I changed my look a bit?"

Robert's brow furrowed. "Why would I care? I mean, I think you're beautiful the way you are, but women change their look all the time. It's part of the female allure. In fact..." he pointed into the air, "in some cultures, the symbol for the Sacred Feminine is a triangle, whether point up or inverted. The triangle is also the Greek letter, Delta."

Tonks put on a face of mock confusion. "What does that have to do with anything, Professor Langdon, sir? Who gives a whit about Greek letters! What does that have to do with the feminine allure?"

Robert spoke playfully in his best teaching attitude. "The Delta, then, is the scientific and mathematical symbol for -- change." He gestured, flipping his hands over, as if to somehow physically balance the two parts of his next statement like a set of scales. "Feminine - the triangle, equals change - the triangle. Symbolically, women are just meant to be chameleons!" Robert laughed, recalling the very form of Tonks' Patronus. "Seriously, Tonks, even if you did make your hair different, or your eyes different, you'd still be you. That's all I care about." Robert smiled gently, running his hand through her still bed-tangled locks.

"Well, when you were in Hospital, remember, I got rid of the pink hair to blend in."

Robert nodded. "Probably smart of you."

"I wanted to change back, but you told me I was pretty. I thought that this look was more ... comforting to you," she shrugged.

Robert let out a single nasal chuckle. "Frankly, Tonks, I found you attractive the moment I saw you in that field. Pink hair, piercings, and all."

"That's good," she nodded, sighing, "because I hate the way I look right now."

"Why?" For the life of him, Robert couldn't understand why Tonks hated her looks. To him, she was a vision of beauty - perfectly symmetrical, heart-shaped features, flawless skin like porcelain, deep brown eyes - what is there to hate?

"My aunt, Bellatrix," Tonks let her chin sink into her chest, "I am the mirror image of my aunt, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. In fact, if we were the same age, you probably wouldn't be able to tell us apart."

I'm sure I would. "But what's wrong with looking like a family member? It's simple genetics. My cousin Martha constantly tells me that the older I get the more I'm the spitting image of my Dad - which I guess isn't such a bad thing. I got this dimple in my chin from him." Robert smiled encouragingly, running his finger over his stubble-covered chin cleft. Thank God my personality is nothing like my Dad's...

"Because, Robert, I despise my aunt Bellatrix." Tonks' features hardened with evident hatred. "She is, or was, a Death Eater. She was one of the most loyal followers of -- I guess I can say his name now -- Voldemort. She killed numerous witches and wizards, and even some Muggles in his name. She was his lover, in fact."

Robert's eyes flew open. "Voldemort's lover? Could a thing like that even love?"

"I wouldn't call it love - more like dark violent sex, I would venture. Anyhow, it happened a long time ago, before Harry Potter was even born."

Robert nodded his understanding.

"Yeah, my uncle Rodolphus -- dodgy bastard -- he used to call her his 'Bella Bella.' That was so sickeningly sweet it made me want to vomit. Bella Bella. I hated family gatherings where the Lestranges were there. Once he found out about her infidelity, he turned against her - and she turned closer to Voldemort."

Robert put his arm around Tonks' shoulders, and she slumped against his chest. He could feel her rapid breathing and see the quick rise-and-fall of her chest. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "And Sirius," she sobbed slightly.

"What about Sirius, Tonks?" Robert rubbed her arm comfortingly.

"She killed my favorite cousin, Robert. The only family member, other than my parents, who I really loved. Sirius Black. She murdered him two years ago. Stole him from me. Stole him from Harry."

"Yeah, I know Sirius was Harry's godfather. Sounds like he was an amazing man."

Tonks sniffed. "Beyond amazing."

"So that's why you want to change your look."

"For the past week, every time I saw myself in the mirror, I felt like I wanted to puke. I constantly saw Bellatrix staring back at me. Now that we're here, now that you're better, I need it to stop."

Robert inhaled deeply. "You should have told me days ago."

Tonks didn't reply.

"So, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I don't think the parti-colored hair would go over too well with your students, your artsy-fartsy friends, or other faculty members, would it?"

"I imagine it would be okay with the artsy-fartsies," Robert said, "but, if you wanted to go punky pink again, I'd still be proud to have you on my arm. Screw them."

Tonks giggled. "I wouldn't do that to you. How about something more conservative? My eye color for starters. What do you like?"

"Why does it matter what I like?" Robert shrugged. "It really doesn't. As long as it's you I don't care."

"Well, I do fancy Harry Potter's eyes," Tonks mused, "they're green. Very, very, green."

"Yeah," Robert said. "Just not so bright. Harry's eyes give me the creeps sometimes."

"Done." Tonks sat up, squeezed her eyes shut, scrunched up her face, and opened her eyes again. They were no longer a deep, muddy brown. Now, they were a bright, shining, and beautiful, but not quite emerald, green. "There."

Now that was weird. Amazing, but weird. Wish I could do that with those pesky crow's feet. "Perfect," Robert said. Wow, they really are beautiful.

"Now my hair." Tonks bounced slightly on the couch, becoming excited. She thought for a moment. "I have no idea."

Robert looked around his living room. On the antique wood and brass chest - being used as a makeshift coffee table - sat a three-month old issue of TV Guide. Robert pointed at the magazine. "That hairstyle's all the rage right now among the Harvard women. I swear, in my graduate Medieval Art History class last spring, just about every female sported that particular haircut."

Tonks picked up the squat magazine and stared at the group of six handsome actors and actresses staring back at her. "Which one, this dark-haired bird?"

"No," Robert pointed, "this one. With the blonde streaks."

Tonks pulled the magazine closer to her face, and peered at the smiling actress. "She's a right pretty one, isn't she?" Tonks eyed Robert suspiciously. "And her hair's the cracking style now?"

Robert nodded. "I call it like I see it. However, I warn you. Fashion has never been one of my areas of expertise. I can never be that flamboyant."

"I like it." Just as before, Tonks scrunched up her face and pursed her lips. After a moment, she shook her head quickly. When she finished, her hair was about four inches shorter, lighter in color, highlighted, and was cut in an angular frame of fringe caressing her face. She picked up the picture of the six friends and placed it facing Robert beside her face. "Did I get it?"

Robert eyed the picture, and then the result. "Yep. I think you did. Spot on." He fingered the bottom fringes of her hair, just at her shoulder level. "I'll just call you Jenny from now on - for Jennifer Aniston."

Tonks rose from the couch, crossed the room - tripping slightly over the end of the couch -- and peered into the antique gilt mirror hanging over Robert's immense fireplace. She ran her hands through her hair, and peered closely at her eyes. "That will certainly do." She turned and smiled at Robert. "Thank you. Bellatrix is gone."

Robert stood and walked up behind Tonks. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled himself close, his chest pressed into her back. He studied their reflections in the mirror momentarily. Robert immediately noticed that his own eyes were a sharp blue once again - replacing the lackluster, weary, grayish haze from only days ago. I never thought another person could have this effect on me - could make me so -- happy, he thought. He leaned his head forward, and gently kissed the exposed skin where her neck met her shoulder. "You're amazing, Tonks. Unexpected," another kiss, "unpredictable," another kiss, "and unfathomable, but amazing."

Tonks turned slightly, and found Robert's lips with her own. Robert had never remembered kissing -- or wanting to kiss anyone more frequently -- more passionately than Tonks. Her youth, vigor, and rough-and-ready charm stirred something within him, making him feel like he was once again a Harvard student, rather than an aging, tenured, professor. He wanted to stay feeling that way. For the third time that morning, Robert wanted nothing more than to love every inch of this woman.

But, he made a promise. He made a plan - and he would stick with it. It would be perfect.

He broke the kiss gently, and turned Tonks around to face him. She buried herself in his chest, breathing deeply and regularly. Robert couldn't suppress a smile. "Let's start the day over, shall we?"

"What do you mean?"

"Forget the interruption. Forget Tasha. Forget my anger, and forget Bellatrix. You go for your run. You were talking about wanting to start that up again last night. I'll have breakfast ready by the time you get back. Then I can show you Cambridge." He pulled away from her and headed toward the kitchen, talking to Tonks over his shoulder. "When you go for your run, if you stick to Concord Avenue and then take Garden where it meets up, you can head east past Cambridge Common and can catch Harvard - the Yard has some nice paths. The Fogg Art Museum is on Broadway just on the east side of the Yard. That's my territory."

"Can you write that down for me?" Tonks asked sheepishly, "I'll remember the route tomorrow, once I've seen it, but for now, the last thing I want is to get swallowed up by these bizarre Cambridge streets."

"Hey," Robert chided. "We East-Coasters pride ourselves on being able to navigate these skewed streets. They make perfect sense to me. Not like those Chicagoans who have to have everything laid out in a perfect grid in order to find anything. Rush Street runs on a diagonal -- that throws them for a major loop." He took a pen and paper from the drawer by the sink and scribbled out a makeshift map. "Here," he handed the sheaf to Tonks, "this will help. Just stick to this route, and that will give you about a thirty to forty-five minute run right back here."

"Thanks," Tonks held up the paper, and pocketed it.

Robert opened the refrigerator door and frowned. Not much here. "Well, unless you want dry Rice Krispies for breakfast, I'll have to run to the store on the corner. I'll leave a key under the mat in case you get back before me."

"Sounds good to me," Tonks said, as she began a stretching routine. She pulled her arms over her head, twisted a few times at the waist, and then bent over, placing her interlaced palms flat on the floor between straddled legs.

Robert watched her intently, nearly forgetting where he was or what he was doing. Tonks turned and bent jackknife over one leg, and then the other, her leg muscles sinewy and well-defined. My God...what did I do to deserve her?

She pulled up, took a few deep breaths, and jogged over to Robert. She planted a kiss on his nose, turned and jogged toward the door. Wrenching it open, she bonked the corner of the door against her cheek. "Oof! Ouch!" She rubbed the offended cheekbone and groaned slightly.

"You okay?" Robert ran over to her. "Let me see." He inspected the damage. "No harm done. You look fine."

"Oh, I'm a clumsy bint, aren't I?" Tonks giggled, embarrassed.

"Yes, but it's endearing," Robert raised his eyebrows teasingly.

"Oh, you!" She gave him a playful slug on the shoulder, turned, and jogged out the door. Robert watched her run lithely down the flagstone path, turn left onto Concord Avenue, and disappear behind Mrs. Taylor's hedge row. Taking a deep breath, Robert stepped back and closed the door behind him. What did I do to deserve her?

* * * *

Robert Langdon stood hunched over, his head cradled in his left hand and his elbows perched on the Corian marble kitchen countertop. He absent-mindedly twirled a pencil in his right hand, pushing it in a swift arc over his thumb with his index and middle fingers. This was a trick Robert invented when he was back at Phillips Exeter Academy, and it was something that irritated his teachers and professors over the years. Now, this habit annoyed his own students and colleagues - mainly because, try as they might, none of them could duplicate the feat without accidentally throwing the pen across the room or clumsily dropping it to the floor.

This was also something Robert picked up to keep his right-side-dominant brain occupied while reading something very tiresome and left-brained. In this case, Robert was reviewing the mundane shopping list he had just created.

"Eggs, skim milk, Evian, cherry tomatoes, Asiago cheese, peppers, bacon-slash-sausage-slash-ham-slash-whatever looks good when I get there, whole-wheat bread, strawberry jam, grapefruit juice, apples..." Robert straightened up, ran a hand through his just-showered wet hair, and thought for a moment. "That's enough for breakfast. I can get the rest later. What else...oh yeah!" Robert whipped the pencil back to writing position and scribbled. "Quik. Chocolate Quik. How could I forget?"

Robert tore the list from the "From the Desk of Robert Langdon" pad, and stuffed the paper into his back jeans pocket. He retrieved his wallet from the counter and shoved it into the opposite pocket. Once satisfied that he was ready, he headed toward the door.

But he never made it out the door.

The moment he pulled the portico open, Robert was first confronted, and then summarily knocked over, by a large, white blur.

Robert landed hard on the unforgiving wooden floor, the impact causing his chest to burn anew, and slid backwards a few feet before realizing what had happened. Still on his back, Robert peered up at the simple chandelier hanging over his entrance way - hanging rather drunkenly at the moment. Perched upon one of the arms was a beautiful, white snowy owl. The owl, which was carrying two letters in her beak, looked down on Robert with an air of annoyance and impatience, and hooted haughtily at him.

"Nice to see you too, Hedwig," Robert groaned, "but couldn't you have knocked or pecked or something first?"

Hedwig hooted again, dropped the notes unceremoniously onto Robert's face, and stayed rooted to her swaying perch.

Robert sighed resignedly, turned over on his stomach, and pushed himself off the floor. He stood and peered up at the great bird. "So, what are you doing all the way over here and how the heck did you get here?" He picked the letters up off the floor, peered out the door to make sure no one was looking, and shut it quietly.

Hedwig hooted a third time. She ruffled her feathers as if begging for sympathy (or at least an owl treat) for making such an awfully long flight.

"Come on down here. I'll find something for you." Robert crossed back to the kitchen, set the letters on the counter, and started rooting through his cupboards. He found an old - a very old - stick of overly preserved beef jerky from a camping trip two years ago. He peeled down the wrapper, twisted off a chunk, and offered it to Hedwig. "Here you go."

The bird swooped down and landed, clasping her talons into the back of Robert's reclining chair. Well, Robert thought, at least she picked the one that's not leather. Robert approached Hedwig, who seemed to sniff at the beef jerky. Her eyes fluttered in what Robert read as pure owl disgust. She ruffled her feathers again, hooted, and resumed her place on Robert's chandelier. "Sorry, girl, it's all I have in the way of owl food," Robert looked in his pantry again, "unless you want some dry Rice Krispies?"

Again, Hedwig gave an indignant hoot, clicked her beak, and re-established her perch on the light fixture.

"Have it your way, then." Robert inspected the letters on the counter. One was written on plain, brown parchment, and the other on a bleached-white official looking stationery. Sighing, Robert picked up the white letter, broke the seal and opened it. "Bad news first, I guess, right, Hedwig? Great, just what I need now, news from the Wizarding world."

His heart sank as soon as he saw the seal on the top of the parchment letter. The Ministry of Magic. He read on:

"Dear Mr. Langdon:

As Minister for Magic, I wish to express my deepest thanks to you for your role in the final defeat of the Dark Lord. Truly, because of your efforts, a new era has been ushered in - one that we hope beyond hope to maintain as long as possible.

Mr. Langdon, because of your sacrifice, your valor, your sharp wit under intense pressure, and your bravery in battle..."

What bravery? Robert thought.

"... the Committee for Wizarding Recognition has voted unanimously to bestow upon you the Order of Merlin Third Class. While you, a former Muggle, may not know the importance of this award, it is one we hold with highest esteem. To be presented with an Order of Merlin in any class is one of the highest honors we at the Ministry of Magic can confer. We offer you this tribute with our full confidence and gratitude.

The Committee has also elected to award three additional Orders of Merlin: a Second Class to Ms. Nymphadora Tonks, a First Class to Mr. Harry Potter, and a posthumous Second Class to Mr. Blaise Zabini, for his selfless sacrifice in saving your life.

Mr. Potter has already received word of his recognition, and his Order will be awarded in a private ceremony. As we understand that you and Ms. Tonks are now residing in the United States, we will send your certificates and your medallions by separate owl within the next few days.

Again, Mr. Langdon, my deepest thanks and congratulations go out to you and Ms. Tonks. In addition, you have my most sincere sympathies for the loss of your friend, Mr. Paolo Zabini, and his son, Mr. Blaise Zabini. Although Mr. Paolo Zabini's role in the events leading up to the final battle are questionable, as are his loyalties, the Ministry has decided not to investigate further in order to preserve his family's integrity.

One more note, Mr. Langdon. As you were informed while you were hospitalized following the confrontation, one Death Eater was killed, and the remainder were captured. We have since learned, however, that one of the Dark Lord's followers had escaped Auror capture and is now at large. We at the ministry fear that this Death Eater is dangerous and mentally unstable. Given the circumstances, there is the possibility that she may come after you or Ms. Tonks. This is most true especially because, in the battle, Ms. Tonks, in the line of her duty, killed the Death Eater's spouse.

Please, therefore, be on close and vigilant watch for one Bellatrix Black Lestrange. If you see her, please send an owl or message by floo directly to me immediately. Your cooperation and assistance in this matter is most appreciated.

We at the Ministry hope that you and Ms. Tonks are settled and are doing well in the Massachusetts Bay Colony. We do miss Ms. Tonks, as she has been one of our finest Aurors. If there is anything you need, again, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Most truly sincerely,

Amelia J. Bones

Minister for Magic

Order of Merlin First Class"

Robert slowly lowered the letter back down onto the countertop. He tried with every nerve cell in his brain to digest what he had just read. Order of Merlin? No investigation? But Robert knew that wasn't the worst of it. Bellatrix Black - Tonks' aunt, Voldemort's lover -- escaped? Dangerous? Insane? Coming after Tonks? My God, not again. Please, please, please not again. Robert read the letter again, feeling the blood drain from his cheeks a second time. He glanced over at the plain brown letter. "Maybe this one has good news."

He picked up the second letter and slit it open. Hedwig gave an approving hoot. "This must be from Harry, right?" He read the letter:

"Dear Robert:

Hello again from Hogwarts! The term is off to a great start, thanks to you. It has been a tough few days, though, but I think I'm adjusting much better now. Hermione and Ron told me they thought I'd come unhinged ever since Voldemort died, but I don't think so. They always over react when it comes to me, which is why they're my friends, I suppose. Well, just in case, I'm sorry if I seemed all wonky to you when you were in hospital. I assure you, if I was, I'm back to my old self again.

Congratulations, by the way. Professor Dumbledore told me that you and Tonks are getting Orders of Merlin! Brilliant! I'm getting my First Class in a couple of days here in Professor Dumbledore's office. The Ministry's keeping mum about it for a while, at least until the school year is over. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for that. It's all I need to have Draco Malfoy and the other Slytherin gits poking fun at me out of jealousy for something else. I can take it, though, have before.

Just take care of yourself, Robert, and please look after Tonks too. She's like family to me. Don't let anything well - Black -- happen to her, okay? Do you know what I mean? I trust you, and I'm sure Tonks does too, so I'm not that worried.

Would you mind terribly looking after Hedwig for a day or two? You can let her out to hunt right now, I'm sure she'd be happy for it. Just don't let her bring any dead mice or frogs inside - it's not pretty when she does. All Hedwig really needs is a perch in your backyard. I'd appreciate that. She's a good owl. A little on the snarky side, but good.

When you and Tonks get over to Tituba's Crossing there in Boston, you can use the hearth at the Leaky Cauldron and floo her back to me in the Gryffindor Common Room. I've enclosed a small envelope of floo powder for you to use to send her back. I've checked, and your fireplace isn't on the floo network yet - but Professor Dumbledore is working on that. Don't worry, Tonks knows how to use floo powder and she'll show you how. You need to learn anyhow, don't you? Cheers.

Your friend,

Harry Potter

Order of Merlin First Class (that is so bloody brilliant that I can put that there!)

P.S. Hermione sends her love and Ron says hello."

Again, Robert set the letter down gingerly on the countertop. Great, now I'm babysitting a bird. Wonderful. What the hell is floo powder, what about my fireplace? Where the hell is Tituba's Crossing? Robert shook his head and rubbed at his temples. Nothing like pressure from Harry Potter to keep Tonks safe. Robert felt a sudden wave of - what feelings they were he had no idea - but in his mind, they echoed of panic, bewilderment, and slight dread, mixed in with a touch of excitement and pride.

"I need to get out of here. Need to get some fresh air until Tonks gets home. She'll explain all of this." He looked up at the bird still sitting regally on his cockeyed hall lamp. "What do you say to a hunt, Hedwig?" Robert walked briskly through his foyer, opened the door, and peered outside. Seeing no one, he motioned to Hedwig. "Go on, girl. Go get yourself a nice mouse, or get that pesky vole out of my back yard, why don't you?"

Silently, Hedwig spread her wings, leapt off the swinging chandelier, and sailed with pure grace out the front door. Robert thought for sure the light fixture was going to either shatter against the ceiling or come crashing down on top of him. Neither happened, and Robert sighed in relief.

"Finally." Robert's stomach gave a loud, complaining, grumble. "Okay, okay, stomach, it's coming! Now I can get my head together, and concentrate on breakfast."