Consequences

Chapter Two: One Week

*

I’m cold. Suppose I might not be if I wasn’t sitting on the stone floor in the basement kitchen of a drafty old house in the middle of the night. I mutter ‘tepefacio’ under my breath and wave of warmth sweeps over me but it only serves to make me shiver more. I shuffle the cards again. They emit small flames in the darkness, temporarily lighting the cupboards around me. Dropping the pile to the floor, they spark happily to themselves as I pour you another drink.

Firewhiskey makes Exploding Snap a far more interesting game.

That’s what you used to tell me. I believed you. You were right, it does. It did. I miss our Thursday night ritual. The smell of burning hair, or eyebrows, or both in your case. The fact that I usually win—well, unless of course, Remus plays. I miss our chats and our silly jokes and our other little game too. Timing our punch lines to make whatever Remus is drinking, or occasionally eating, come out of his nose. The spaghetti was still the best. I doubt I’ll ever be able to top that one.

I can’t believe it’s been a week. A week since I’ve seen your face, since I last heard your laughter in this grim old house. It’s Thursday night again. And I miss you.

Jon’s asked me to move in with him. Did I tell you that? I don’t know what to do. If I could just erase everything that’s happened in the past eight days. If I could ... well ... we’d be playing Snap now, wouldn’t we? Then I’d be going home to a messy flat and a warm boy. If only ...

But I’ve fucked up, Sirius. Opened my little Pandora’s Box and now everything has gone to hell. How can I tell Jon? Do I tell Jon? Do I tell him where I went when I left St Mungo’s? Do I tell him about Charlie?

And what about Charlie?

Charlie who never even asked me why I came to see him. Charlie who didn’t berate me with questions about the Order, or about what happened at the Ministry, even though his two youngest siblings were involved. Charlie who knew just what I needed. Charlie who made love to me that night, allowed me my indulgence. Charlie who wrapped me tightly in his arms and let me sleep. Gave me peace. Charlie who’s once more taken up residence under my skin.

I left the next morning before he woke.

Am I foolish to believe I was anything more than convenient?

I’ll drink this for you, shall I?

My eyes close and I let my head fall back against the cupboard door, concentrating on the feeling of the liquid as it burns my throat and warms my body.

I think I have a headache.

Think, but then it could just be the whole warming thing.

No. Headache.

My eyes hurt. I just want to go to sleep. Wish that I could. Wish I could just sleep until all this is over. Until I don’t feel it anymore.

Someone’s just put the lights on. But I stay sitting on the floor in my shadowy corner of the kitchen. I know who it is before he comes into view, before I see the tousled brown hair and the patches on his robes. I know him by his gait. By the sound his shoes make on the stone floor.

‘Wotcher, Remus.’

He jumps, caught completely off guard.

‘Tonks, what on earth are you doing down there?’

‘Just sitting ... thinking.’

‘In the dark?’

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I explain.

‘So you’re drinking?’

Very observant.

He takes the empty glass from my hand and the bottle from the floor and puts them both up on the worktop. ‘You don’t even like Ogden’s.’

‘I know... but ... it’s Thursday night, and I didn’t pour it for me.’

‘Ah ...’ he says, sliding to the floor beside me. ‘So, what were you two discussing?’

‘Matters of the heart.’

‘Yours or his?’

‘Mine.’

‘I thought you were all right there.’

‘So did I.’

‘Something’s changed?’

I nod.

‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with you dropping off the face of the earth for two days last week, would it?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Thought as much. Had a lot of people worried, you know.’

‘Did I? I’m sorry.’

‘Moody especially.’

‘He hasn’t said anything to me.’

‘He was all set to go looking for you. Took Dumbledore to calm him down.’

‘What did Dumbledore say?’

‘Just to give you a bit of time. That you were safe and well cared for.’

I nod again.

‘And were you?’

‘I was.’

‘Can I ask?’

I should polish my boots. They look downright scruffy.

‘No,’ he continues, answering his own question. ‘All right, fair enough.’ He pulls a brown paper bag out of the pocket of his robes and puts it on the floor between us, opens it, and rolls the top down. I look in and smile. It’s full of Chocolate Frogs. ‘Choc Frog?’ he asks.

‘Thanks.’ I take a frog and tear the wrapper off. I let it hop twice from one hand to the other and back, before catching it in the air and biting it in two. He laughs and shakes his head.

‘Who’d you get?’ I ask.

‘Fingal the Fearless.’ He tosses the card to the floor in front of us.

‘You?’

I flip the card over in my hand. ‘Newt Scamander.’ Remus makes a face. ‘Do you want to blast him?’ I ask.

‘Love to.’

I throw the card in the air, and with a wave of Remus’s wand it bursts into flame and falls to the floor. We watch in satisfaction as it disintegrates to ash. Remus picks out another frog, and soon Dumbledore joins Fingal at our feet.

‘Are you a chocoholic, Remus?’ I smile as we both delve into the bag once more. ‘Or is it just a touch of Pre-Werewolf Syndrome?’

‘Hmm ... must be the former; it’s been more than a week since the last moon.’

Has it? I should have known that.

‘Oh gawd, I’m sorry. I should have known that.’

‘Don’t be sorry. I think you’ve had quite enough to worry about without adding me to your list. I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years.’

‘But I should know these things. I want to. Sirius would want ...’

There.

I’ve said his name aloud.

The tears take me by surprise, hitting me full force; I have no chance of stopping them. Then Remus’s arm is around my shoulders, and he’s pulling me closer. Soon my tears are soaking the threadbare collar of his shirt, my hands in fists clutching the fabric of his robes; the stubble on his chin grazes my cheek as he whispers, ‘Shh...’ in my ear. And I feel so stupid and so selfish. He’s lost as much as I have. More besides. And I didn’t want to, never meant to, show this to him. I draw deep breaths, desperately trying to compose myself. Still, it takes me several minutes before I can even raise my head. When I do I’m met with my own grief reflected back at me. His eyes are red; tears run down his face. I reach up and brush them away with my hands. He, always the gentleman, hands me his handkerchief and kisses my forehead.

‘We’re a right mess, aren’t we?’ He smiles. I just nod.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘S’all right.’ He draws a deep breath and looks at his watch. ‘How’s about a cup of tea? It is, after all, half past four.’

‘It is?’ No wonder I’m so tired.

I sit up straight and take another deep breath, scrubbing my hands over my face. Remus gets up to make the tea. I watch him in silence for a bit, absently tearing the wrapper off another Chocolate Frog and biting its head off.

‘Wasn’t as if I’m ever alone here anyway. Molly is here, always trying to look after me.’

‘Trying?’

‘Keeps asking me how I’m feeling. If I want a chat. God love her, but sometimes I want to tell her to sod off.’

I laugh. I can’t imagine Remus ever saying that. Sirius, yes. Remus, no.

‘Actually, it isn’t so bad. She did make me the best rock cakes. With dates, not sultanas. I hate sultanas.’

‘Any left?’

‘No. Sorry.’

He hands me a steaming cup and sits down beside me again with his own.

He’s into the frogs again.

‘Who’d you get?’ I ask as he bites another Chocolate Frog in half.

‘Colm Spank.’

‘Can I have that?’

‘Sure, why?’

‘Just nostalgia really. I used to have a thing for Colm Spank.’ He hands me the card, and I’m looking down at the handsome face of the blond wizard I wanted for my own when I was a teenager. I turn my attention to the card I just pulled from my own wrapper. ‘Artemisia Lufkin. I always get her.’ That card joins the others, but Colm Spank ends up in my pocket. We sit in silence for what seems like ages, just sipping our tea. Too quiet for me. ‘So, Remus.’ I give him my best smile. ‘How’s your love life?’

‘Ha,’ he laughs. ‘I don’t remember. What’s that?’

‘Oh, come on, there’s got to be some girl you fancy. I know plenty fancy you.’

‘Do you now?’

‘Mmmm.’ Mouth full of chocolate.

‘Who?’

‘Aremita Ramsbottom,’ I manage, trying not to choke on the remnants of my frog.

‘She’s eighty-five if she’s a day.’ He laughs.

‘She still fancies you though. All right then, bit younger?’

‘Please.’

‘Ismay Woodbine.’

He makes a face I don’t quite blame him for. Oh, right, the nose thing.

‘Philippa Hardwicke-Brown?’

‘Even if I did believe you, she’s far too much work.’

‘Letticia Moore.’

‘She does not.’

‘She does. Why do you think she kept refilling your tea and passing you the chocolate biscuits all last meeting?’

‘Thought she was just being nice.’

‘No. I’d say you’re in there. Shall I invite her round? Perhaps right before the next moon.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, you’re dead sexy before the moon. Do you not know that?’ Don’t roll your eyes at me, Remus. ‘You’ll see. Next time round, I’ll take you out to a Muggle club. You’ll be beating them off with a stick.’

He’s laughing now, so I continue. ‘Besides, you do know what they say about werewolves.’

‘You two are up early. Or is it late to bed?’ The voice above us gives us both a start. Molly stands over us, her hands on her hips, a bemused look on her face. We must look ridiculous really. A mass of tears and laughter sitting on the floor leaning up against the cupboards—cups of tea, Exploding Snap, chocolate wrappers, and frog cards.

‘It’s Thursday night,’ Remus explains.

‘It’s Friday morning,’ she says sweetly, but she knows. ‘Come on, shift yourselves. It’s not as if we don’t have tables and chairs.’ Remus and I pick ourselves, and our accouterments, up off the floor and move to the table. ‘I see you’ve already made tea. Good. Well,’ she says, taking her apron off the hook and putting it on, ‘better make a start on the breakfast. Everyone’ll be up soon. What would you like this morning?’

‘I’m sure anything you make will be lovely.’ Remus smiles.

‘Nothing for me, thanks, Molly. I probably should try and get some sleep. I do actually have to make an appearance at work today. Goodnight, Remus. Morning, Molly.’

‘Nymphadora?’ Remus catches my hand as I pass behind him.

‘Yes?”

‘What do they say about werewolves?’

Molly refills his cup and he instinctively takes a sip as I lean over his shoulder and whisper, ‘You know, hung like Hippogriffs.’

Tea all across the table. I can’t help but smile.

Somewhere I know Sirius is laughing.

*