Consequences

Chapter 26: Nevermore

It's just a date. I should be allowed to date, shouldn't I? And it was only a St Valentine's party. And I didn't really have a reason to say no. It was in Hancock's Hall on the East side of Hogsmeade. There was a good mix of people there, not just the Ministry types that I'm so used to but also farmers, shop keepers, bankers … firemen. I shouldn't have to feel guilty.

But I do.

I've laughed and joked and danced more than I have done in ages but it seems I'm always catching myself. Can't enjoy myself too much.

It's not fair. It's not fair to me and it's not fair to him. And he's been so sweet all night. I can see him at the bar across the room; dark green dress robes, thick blonde hair. He's getting us drinks. I can't help but feel nervous. We've moved from the party to the Three Broomsticks and I know our evening is winding down. It's almost midnight and it'll be over soon. I know he'll want to walk me home. What happens then? Will he want to kiss me goodnight? Can I deny him that? Do I want to, even? This shouldn't be so hard. And what if he wants to come upstairs for a nightcap? Is nightcap the right word? Doesn't matter. Everyone knows it means “full on snogging session” at the very least. I know I'm not ready for that.

I run my hands through my hair, rest my chin on my palm and smile up at Christy as he slides into the chair opposite me. He's brought us Irish coffee. Proper Irish coffee, not the weak Muggle kind. And it's sweet and strong and lovely and I have had a very nice evening. Perhaps I'm just thinking too much. He's telling me about that big fire in Dartmouth last month; I am listening. But more than that, I'm watching his fingers as his hand slides into mine on the table. He turns my hand over in his and his thumb brushes gently across my palm. It does feel nice. Nice--but not right. I let my fingers play across his palm too. He has very nice hands. Calluses, like Charlie, but his skin is softer, and he leans forward and brushes a stray hair behind my ear. He smells amazing… I wish it were easy. I wish it felt right.

I have nothing to feel guilty about. I'm single. I've been single since, well … about six months now, isn't it?

I just don't feel single. I'm so sick of feeling this way--like something's missing. I want to just be myself again.

'You all right?' He squeezes my fingers this time and I look up into those lovely green eyes of his.

'Yeah. Sorry. Been a long week.' I yawn without meaning to. Hopefully, he didn't think that was forced.

But he just smiles at me. 'It's late. I should probably get you home.'

I nod as I finish the last of my coffee.

He's still holding my hand.

*

I manage to fend off my nerves until we get within a hundred yards of my flat. Then my heart is beating faster and my mind begins to race. What do I do now? But there's no real time to think; moments later we're standing outside the front door of my building. For some reason I'm staring at my boots. He takes my hands in his again as he turns to face me. I do have to look up now.

'Thank you for coming out tonight. I had … It was a lot of fun.' He has a great smile.

'It was. It's been a long time since I went out dancing.'

'Would you like to do it again sometime?'

'I don't kn--'

'We don't have to set a time right now. I know your schedule is rather up in the air and well, so is mine. But sometime, when we're both free.'

'I think I'd like that.' That's as committed as I get at the moment. Still, don't think it sounded too badly.

'Good.' His fingers are on the side of my face. His touch is so light and I catch my breath as he leans down and kisses me. And I let him and I tell myself to relax and kiss him back. Soft, sweet, lovely kissing. The warmth of his lips makes me shiver and I know that there are several hundred Hogwarts girls who would kill to be in my shoes. I used to be one of them. He kisses beautifully.

Gawd, I wish I felt something. Anything. Anything but this ridiculous emptiness. His thumb brushes my cheek again and he smiles at me as we part.

'Night, Tonks.'

'Goodnight.'

'Take care of yourself.'

'You too.'

His fingers move through my hair and he kisses my forehead.

'Owl me sometime. Even if you just want to talk.'

I nod and he gives me another great smile, before turning and walking back down the lane. And I, not wanting to bother with the key or the stairs, turn around and Disapparate to my flat.

The first step I take, I trip over the cat. Simon weaves angrily around my ankles cursing me in an annoyed kitty voice and I can't remember if I fed him before I went out. Suppose I'll feed him again. It does seem to shut him up and I've just flopped down on my sofa and shut my eyes when I hear a familiar noise and immediately open them again to a flaming phoenix feather on my coffee table.

Written in the flame is a time: 12:37. There is no location so I can only assume they're coming here again. Damn it, do I even have any biscuits? I manage to drag myself off the sofa and put the kettle on and locate a half-empty bottle of Cathcart's Best; I hadn't realised Dad and I had drunk that much at New Year. According to my watch it's 12:34 a.m. Nice three minute notice. I rummage through my cupboards and manage to find a small packet of shortbread. I wonder how many of them they'll be this time? Only five last time. I tip the biscuits onto a plate and put it in the centre of my coffee table. Well, suppose it's better than nothing. Better than last time. They must realise by now I'm not Molly. We need a few more chairs. I try and make them sensible but they all turn out short and squishy. Dead comfortable but hard to get out of. Suppose they reflect my mood. I just want to go to bed.

Kettle's boiling and I manage to get the tea made just in time. There's a knock at the door and I set another quick ward before answering it. Right on time. Hestia is the first to enter followed by George, Bill, Dedalus, Honoria, Agnetha carrying a tray of tarts—

And suddenly my breath is frozen in my lungs. Remus. I wasn't expecting Remus. He's never come before. I didn't think he attended meetings anymore. He doesn't look at me as he slips past me into my flat. Mad-Eye rounds out the bunch but it takes him tapping his cane on the floor in front of me for me to even notice him. I shut the door behind them and they make themselves comfortable in my tiny sitting room.

*

We've discussed it before but now it's set. We have official patrols, in twos, rotating order. So my days, or partial days, off will now be spent patrolling Hogwarts and the village along with my regular Order duties, of course. Sounds familiar … Just reporting to a different group of people this time.

We've had a report of the Death Eaters and the activity of the Dementors, still breeding—lovely. Werewolves have apparently congregated near Duddington again. Craigmiller Castle is their home these days. Greyback doesn't like being far from urban centres and it's only a few miles out of Edinburgh. Not that this new information will help much. The Ministry cannot possibly deal with Death Eaters, Dementors and werewolves all at once. We simply do not have the resources. All we can do is monitor them. Better than nothing, I suppose.

Not too long a meeting, thank God. And they all rise, packing up satchels, draining mugs and polishing off tarts and biscuits. All, that is, but Remus, who stays seated by the fire. Mad-Eye and Bill move to the far end of the kitchen for what I assume is a private chat. The others thank me and say their goodnights. I smile and nod and pretend that I don't mind hosting people 'til nearly 2 a.m. Not as if I need to sleep or anything.

When most of them have left I slip into the armchair, my eyes already half closed. I squint at Remus and note that he sweeps the rest of the room before looking at me.

'Tired?' He asks the obvious and I just nod. He glances back at the fire and stirs his tea pointlessly for a few moments.

'I hear you've had a Patronus change?' he blurts unexpectedly.

How does he know that?

But I manage to remain calm. Just nod again and drink my tea. Won't look at him.

'That doesn't happen very often.'

'No.' Shaking my head, I tighten my grip on my mug; my knuckles are going white. 'Doesn't.'

'Do you miss the old one? What did you name him again?'

'Edgar,' I reply. I really don't want to have this conversation. Makes me seem rather pathetic, doesn't it? Lets him know that he has the upper hand. 'And yes, I miss him.'

There is a long silence and I finally look up from the fire—Bill and Mad-Eye are still in the far corner of the kitchen. I glance around the rest of the room in the hopes that some of the others are still here, but they all seem to have gone now. Remus pours himself another cup of tea and I finally allow myself to look at him.

'Does it work as well as the old one?' he asks as he settles back onto the sofa.

Damn it. I thought he'd let that go.

I nod.

'Harry says it's big and it has—'

I've had enough of this. 'If you're really that interested, Remus, just ask me.'

'All right,' he begins slowly. 'What has it changed into?'

Drawing another deep breath, I take a long sip of my tea and, summoning my courage, I lock my eyes on his.

'It's you,' I say simply.

He immediately pulls his gaze from mine. All of a sudden that empty cauldron on the side of the hearth is terribly interesting. It's almost funny. With all his questions he had to suspect. Is he really that surprised?

Silence again. I seem to have rendered him speechless. Makes me a little happy.

The next thing I hear is Mad-Eye's leg on the floor and Bill's voice. 'Well, we're off. G'night, Remus. Night, Tonks. Mad-Eye just gives a wave. Bill catches my eye with a look that seems to ask if I really want to be left with Remus. I nod that it's all right and he smiles. And a few moments later we are quite alone.

Remus hasn't moved again so I decide just to pretend he's not here. I clear the glasses, cups and saucers and set the washing up in motion. There are still a few of Agnetha's tarts left and I wrap them up and put them away for later--or breakfast. But turning back to the sitting room he's suddenly in front of me.

'Xena …' he begins softly but I shake my head at him.

'Don't.' My voice sounds rather cold. 'Don't call me that.'

For a moment I think he may argue.

'It's Tonks,' I say determinedly. 'Just Tonks.'

He nods and swallows hard, running a hand through his hair. 'Tonks,' he repeats.

'It's late…'

'Your Patronus--' he begins again. 'How--'

'I don't know how. One day it was just different.'

'I'm sorry. I know how fond you were of the raven.'

I walk past him and start to get rid of the extra chairs cluttering my sitting room. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He's behind the sofa, his hands on the back of it, just looking at me.

'Have you named the werewolf?' he asks after a bit.

I nod, blasting the last chair a little too forcefully. It emits a thick grey cloud of smoke before vanishing.

'What did you call it?'

'Gellert,' I reply letting myself collapse to the sofa.

'Gellert? From Beth Gellert? The story where Llewellyn--'

'Don't.’ I shakemy head. ‘Don’t even say it. That story always makes me cry.' Most depressing story ever.

Remus chuckles softly. 'Then why—'

I just shrug. 'Dunno, just seems to suit him.'

'Fair enough.' Remus leans down to my level. 'But…' he continues.

'What?'

'Doesn't Gellert kill the wolf?'

'Shut up.'

He laughs. A genuine laugh--one that makes his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle at the edges. I can't help but smile myself; it makes me feel warmer. Shadows of how things used to be.

How easy would it be to convince him to stay?

Easy, I'd say. He's lingered long enough. Does he have nowhere to go or does he really want to be with me?

But no. I won't. I can't do that again. I know how it feels in the morning--like hell. I'm good enough to fuck but not to be with. Recalling that feeling just makes me angry. He has to leave.

'It's late,' I say again. 'You should go.'

He nods in agreement, but the look on his face is curious. He wasn't expecting me to say that. I follow him to the door and he takes his coat down off the hook and pulls it on.

His hand is on the knob when he turns back toward me.

'Good night, Tonks.' Last time he said those words to me, he didn't mean them. He doesn't mean them tonight either. I've barely said 'goodnight' when he leans down to kiss me.

I step back and to the left, neatly, although obviously avoiding him. He can't do that. That's not fair.

He just looks at me, chewing slightly on his lower lip.

'Goodnight,' I repeat. 'Take care of yourself.'

He nods determinedly, opens the door and a moment later he's gone.

I lock the door behind him, bolt it and suddenly question every decision I've just made.

*

I can still hear the soft 'tink' of the washing up finishing in the sink as I climb the ladder to my bed. I strip off my clothes, pull on a tee shirt and crawl under the covers. Rolling over, I open the lower drawer of my bedside table and pick out a small framed photograph, making sure not to touch the worn, white cotton shirt that it was resting on. I don't want to touch the soft fabric. It's too much of a temptation to take it out, bring it to my face, to… I have to stop doing that.

Instead, I just stare at the photograph: the three of us laughing. Hard to believe it's been over a year now since this was taken. But then not so hard to believe; we look so different now—like strangers really. Sirius has been dead for more than six months. I think about him almost every day. Berate myself on the days that I don't, guilty for letting too many other things crowd my thoughts. I let my fingertip brush his face. Wonder what he'd say about all this. Would he tell me to move on or not to give up on his best friend? Could he say anything to change Remus's mind?

It makes me smile as I watch Sirius bury his face in the back of my neck, watch as the girl I used to be flinches and laughs and leans into Remus. I want to be her again. I want my life back, my friends back, my love back… I don't want to have to tell him to leave at 2 a.m. I don't want to need to. Perhaps I would be better off with someone else; I've told myself that repeatedly over the past few weeks. Perhaps some day I'll believe it. But for now I can't help but dwell on what was, even though I know it's futile to do so. Gawd, why can't I just sleep like normal people? I could climb back downstairs, ransack my kitchen or bathroom for sleeping draft. Could? But honestly it's not as tempting as it used to be. I'm not entirely convinced it works for me. Not single doses anyway, and I don't really want to tempt fate with more than that. If I'm going to kill myself now I'd want to take several Death Eaters with me.

Besides, I don't think I have any left.

Setting the photo down on my bedside table, I settle down and turn to face it. Just watch it for a few minutes before I switch off the light. I wish… But I know there's no use wishing.

*