The Long Fight of Nymphadora Tonks

Chapter 10: Mousy-Brown

Tonks apparated in the yard of The Burrow and walked slowly up to the kitchen door. She hesitated before knocking. It was late and she wasn't even sure if Molly would still be up. With a slight shock Tonks realised that she didn't know what she would do if Molly had already gone to bed. She wanted company, she wanted comfort, and there was no one else she could really talk to. It would take too much explaining if she went to her mother now, and she didn't have the energy to convince her chosen wailing wall of the desperation inside her before she began to vent it. So she stroked her hair - which still persistently refused to let her change its depressing natural colour of mousy-brown even by a shade - out of her eyes and knocked. She breathed a sigh of relief when Molly's voice called,

"Who is it?"

"Wotcher, Molly. It's me, Tonks."

"Oh. Err ... well, what's the deepest desire of your heart?"

This was the question they had agreed upon a while back, so that Molly could be sure it was her. But to her own dismay, Tonks found herself unable to answer, instead erupting in a fit of tears that led Molly to open the door anyway. She was wearing an old green dressing-gown and exlaimed at once,

"Tonks, my dear, what on earth is the matter?"

"Molly, I want ... I wondered ... can I come in?" Tonks sobbed.

"Of course, dear," said Molly warmly, putting one arm around her and leading her into the kitchen. "Here, sit down," she said, helping the younger woman off with her cloak and guiding her to a chair. "You're just in time for a nice, steaming mug of tea," she went on, fetching the promised beverage, placing it in front of Tonks and sitting down beside her.

"Thanks, Molly," said Tonks gloomily, staring at the brown fluid. "I'm sorry to burst in on you like this."

"Don't worry about it. I'm always glad to see you. And if there's anything I can do ...?"

Tonks shook her head miserably. "I don't see that there's anything anyone can do. Not when a man's so stubborn."

"Remus?" Molly guessed. "Did you talk to him about this new mission of his?"

"Sort of," muttered Tonks. "I more like ... yelled at him."

Molly gave a small smile. "Sometimes that's the best way if you want to catch a man's attention."

But Tonks shook her head. "It didn't do any good. He just tried to calm me down. He didn't talk to me, he didn't explain anything, he just said ... he said ... maybe it would be for the best if ... if they killed him!"

"He didn't!" Molly exclaimed as Tonks burst into another sobbing fit. She put her arms around Tonks comfortingly and stroked her mousy-brown hair.

"I love him," Tonks sobbed. "Why can't he just accept that?"

"He thinks," Molly said gently, "that he's doing what's best for you."

Tonks sat up abruptly. "So you're siding with him?!" she cried.

"No, dear. I personally think he's being ridiculous, and I've told him so to his face. But I'm afraid, now that he's taken on this new mission for Dumbledore, he'll be even harder to convince than before. Did he tell you he's had to stop taking the potion because of it?"

Her eyes widening, Tonks shook her head.

"No, I thought he wouldn't have," Molly sighed. "Of course, that means he considers himself more dangerous to you than ever."

"But I don't care," Tonks whispered desperately. "I don't care about any of it, I just want him to love me. I don't want him to do this, it's dangerous, I don't want him to throw his life away."

Molly stroked the limp hair out of Tonks's eyes. "No one wants that. Don't give up yet, dear. I'll try talking to him again. I could get Arthur to have a word with him, man to man, that might help."

"Oh, please, I don't want to get Arthur involved as well."

"But he's already involved. We all are. Everyone's noticed you and Remus having long conversations in the kitchen, at the end of which you both look even more miserable than before you shut the door. This has got to stop. It's ridiculous, and I shall go on telling Remus so until he finally sees sense." She smiled encouragingly. "Drink up your tea, dear, and don't worry. We'll find a way to work this out."

Tonks gave a weak smile. "Mother Molly," she murmured. "He called you that once. It seems so long ago."

Molly patted her hand, then suddenly she stiffened as there was another knock on the back door.

"I wonder who that can be?" she wondered out loud. "Who's there?" she called through the closed door, getting to her feet. "Declare yourself!"

The answer came promptly. "It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry."

With a quick glance back at Tonks, Molly opened the door.

"Harry, dear!" she exclaimed. "Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"

"We were lucky," said the headmaster, standing aside to let Harry into the kitchen. "Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

At the sound of that hateful name spoken in the headmaster's warm, kind tones, Tonks clutched her mug of tea tightly between her hands and raised her mousy-brown head just a little. Harry looked somewhat surprised to see her there - and no doubt surprised to see her in this shape. Dumbledore, on the other hand, displayed no surprise at all.

"Hello, Professor," Tonks forced herself to say. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hi, Tonks," said Harry.

"I'd better be off," Tonks said quickly, leaving her chair and reaching for her cloak. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

"Please don't leave on my account," Dumbledore put forward. "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

"No, no, I need to get going," Tonks insisted, avoiding the gaze of those penetrating eyes. "Night -"

"Dear," Molly Weasley began, "Why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming -?"

Remus. She could have dinner with Remus here, at The Burrow. Maybe talk to him again. Or let Arthur have a word with him ...

"No, really, Molly," she murmured. "... thanks anyway ... goodnight, everyone."

And she hurried past Dumbledore and Harry, quickly passing out into the yard, and disapparated.