Amid My Solitude

But you, their likenesses, are spent
Upon another element.
Truly ye are but seemings --
The shadowy cast-off gleamings
Of bright solidities.
-- Anna Hempstead Branch

Harry looked exhausted when he finally opened the door and waved for those waiting in the hallway to come back inside.

Snape was leaning against the wall next to the bed, his arms crossed. His eyes were sunk in his face, dark shadows under furrowed brows. Molly put her arm around Harry's shoulders, and he shook his head, pulling away slightly.

"I'm all right," he said quietly. He glanced at Snape. "It's okay."

"You need some rest," Molly said, steering him through the others. They could hear her in the hallway, demanding a spare bed, and Harry's exhausted agreement.

Snape waited until everyone had filed in, and then pushed away from the wall.

"He's sleeping," he said curtly. "I didn't see everything, but I saw enough. Much as I believe we ought to wipe the whole pack out to begin with -- "

"Politics, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. Snape nodded.

"Someone recruited some of the younger members of the pack," he announced. "One of them's been appointed a sort of...temporary leader. He has a Dark Mark. The rest of the pack..." he glanced at Harry. "They don't even know. Their leader's thinking of sending the young ones out of the pack -- to see the outside world."

"Did you see where?" Kingsley asked.

"I could take you there," Snape replied.

"And you will," Kingsley replied. "The Aurors will handle it."

"Oh yes," Snape said, "And while we're on the topic of Remus Lupin's memories, I'd like to inform you that I'm not a spy, Shacklebolt."

Everyone in the room seemed suddenly to stop breathing. Kingsley met his eyes.

"What a useful talent you have," he said finally. "Let us hope you eavesdropped on few other conversations."

"Don't blame me," Snape added. "Potter was supposed to block out the distractions."

"Nobody's going to blame Harry for your errors," Kingsley said. "It's difficult to block out distractions when your partner is looking for them."

"I went looking for answers to the questions we had. I can't help that it was so obviously in his mind," Snape replied. "For the record, I know I would like to take an informal poll." He looked away from Kingsley. "Because you see I'm not Remus Lupin, and I'm not afraid to ask who else thinks I'm a spy. This time."

The other members of the Order looked at each other.

"I think," Dumbledore said, "that the hospital room of a dangerously ill man is not the place to hold discussions on the internal stability of the Order, Severus. As there is no way you can prove you are not a spy, and no way for anyone else to prove you are, the point is moot, and the status quo, as it were, will stand."

Snape nodded. "Nice to have such ringing endorsement," he said, acidly. "If you'll excuse me..." He moved towards the door. "Coming, Shacklebolt?"

"Aye," Kingsley rumbled, pushing past him into the hallway. Snape lingered in the door.

"And by the way, Tonks," he said, "Lupin doesn't think I'm a spy. But he does think you are."

The closing door rang loudly in the silent room. Tonks, pale and drawn, glanced at the bed.

"Don't believe him, he's always lying about stupid things -- " Fred started, but she shook her head.

"He enjoyed that too much for it to be a lie," she said.

"It's ridiculous," George announced. "I don't know what Snape thinks he's playing at but I don't believe it."

"Nobody believes it," Arthur agreed. "You've too much good sense for that, Tonks."

"It doesn't matter," she answered. "I know nobody believes it. So...knowing that," she said, as if she were working out a mathematics equation, "it just matters that he does."

***

"It was like music," Harry said, lying on the cot in the corner of the ward. Molly, sitting on the end of the bed, watched his hands clench the blanket. "It's never been like that before. It felt...everything fell in place. It wasn't like I was trying to do anything. It was just like music."

"You should sleep," Molly said quietly.

"Humans don't think like books at all," Harry continued. "I've been thinking it's like reading a book, or seeing a movie, but it's not. We think like orchestras. A full-on orchestra. With all sorts of things going on underneath all sorts of other things. I could see it all. I think I didn't do it right, though. But I will. Next time I will."

He yawned, and Molly smiled.

"Let's hope there won't be a next time," she said.

"You know what? He loves my dad," Harry said, sleepily.

"Of course he does."

"And Sirius and me, too. And Tonks."

"Sleep, Harry."

"It was on account of me and Tonks," Harry insisted.

"What was?"

"That he came back. He thought we were there. And he thought he was s'posed to be teaching me about Patronuses again and he called his up and that's why they found him, I think. It's fuzzy."

Molly drew her eyebrows together. "He called up a Patronus?"

"Mmmh, and see, some Muggles saw it and came to look. I think. He wasn't really all there, so I don't know it all."

There was the click of a door opening as Tonks walked into the hospital room, creeping quietly past the other beds. She reached Harry's cot, and leaned against the wall, sliding down.

"Hey Tonks," Harry mumbled.

"Hi, Harry," Tonks said, sounding as tired as he did.

"Howya?"

"I've had a really, really bad day," she said. "How about you?"

"I'm all right."

Molly stood, slowly, and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I've got to speak with Dumbledore," she said gently. "Will you two be all right?"

"Sure, Molly," Tonks answered. Her hair had dulled, Molly noticed, until it was a sort of listless dark colour. She smiled at Tonks, and turned to go.

Harry drew a breath, eyes closed. "Hey, I was s'posed to tell you something," he said. Tonks let her head thud against the wall.

"Oh yes?"

Harry was silent, breathing evenly, for so long that she thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Yeah," he said, finally. "Don't listen to Snape."

Tonks raised an eyebrow, slowly.

"He wanted to tell me that?"

"Mm-hm. Don't listen to Snape," Harry said. "About you. Cos Snape hasn't got the whole story."

"I'm not sure what exactly can help me ignore what Snape told me," Tonks mused.

"Don't listen to 'im," Harry said, sliding into sleep.

"All right, Harry. I won't," Tonks answered softly.

Different words from different mouths. Snape's gossip, like a razor on her nerves, with no explanation, a parting shot meant to injure and dismay.

And Harry's sleepy reassurances, even more vague than what Snape had to tell her, but comforting. Snape made her want to throw things. Harry made her want to cry.

But she did neither; she simply remained there, next to Harry's cot, standing a nominal sort of guard as he slept -- eyes dry, thoughts drifting, perfectly still in the quiet room.

***

The Order was at loose ends, it seemed; Remus in the hospital, Tonks and Harry exhausted and sleeping -- with Bill Weasley standing guard in shifts with the twins. Snape and Kingsley hadn't yet checked in, and the others came and went as they could. Dumbledore had gone to join Kingsley; Arthur and Molly spent their time trying to contact everyone who'd been searching or following the search.

When Tonks woke, Bill Weasley was leaning over her, holding a cup of coffee. She accepted it gratefully, and glanced at Harry, who was still fast asleep.

"Hippocrates Smethwyck wants to talk to you," he said quietly. "It's about five in the morning, in case you're wondering why the world is a horrible place."

"Thanks, Bill," she said, standing and sipping the coffee. "Why does he want to see me?"

"Dunno," Bill said. "Don't worry, George's about, he'll keep an eye on Harry."

"How's Remus?" she asked dully, as the horror of the night before came rushing back.

"Still sleeping. Hell of a night for the Order," Bill continued, as they walked down the corridor. "Got Dumbledore's right hand just about in a coma, Death Eaters amongst the wolves, Snape thinks we all think he's a spy and that Lupin thinks your a spy, which is frankly ridiculous, by the way, and -- "

"It's all right, Bill," she said. "I don't want to talk about it."

Bill nodded. "Sure, course you don't. Next time I see the bastard I'd like your permission to break his greasy nose, though."

"Yes, because there's not enough trouble in the Order right now," Tonks sighed. "Let him alone, Bill, it's not his fault."

"You can't really think -- "

"I didn't want to talk about it," Tonks said.

"Right," Bill nodded. "Sorry. There he is -- Smethwyck!" he called. The Healer, peering through a window down the corridor, turned and gave them a smile.

"Nymphadora Tonks, good to see you again," he said, with a smile. "Though I wish it was under better circumstances, yes?"

"You must get that a lot," Tonks said softly. Bill clapped her on the shoulder and moved on, into the room Remus was being kept in.

"Fortunately, in this case I'm the bearer of good news twice over," he said, still smiling. "At least, I hope. First, I thought I should probably talk to someone...a little more responsible than Bill..." he tapped the side of his nose. "Mr. Lupin's going to be fine. It's not going to be painless, but I imagine between his unique physiology and our knowledge, he ought to be up and walking around in another week or so. Might have some trouble with his arm."

"That's good," Tonks said, numbly.

"And, I believe I have some other good news. Well, I hope I do. When you spoke to our floor witch downstairs, she misdirected you at first, yes? She mentioned it to me. They're trained to do a bit of diagnostic magic, you see..."

"Yes, but I just thought -- I thought she thought I was sick," Tonks said.

"Well, she did and she didn't. If I may?" the Healer held up his wand, and gestured to her arm. She blinked, but held it out anyway. He pressed the tip of the wand to the inside of her elbow, and listened to the other end.

He's gone daft, Tonks thought.

"Aha, yes. Easiest way to tell," he said with a smile. "Especially this early."

She waited patiently as he straightened. "You'll have to give your young man my congratulations, unless you want to introduce me," he said.

Tonks stared.

***

Bill was standing over the bed when Tonks entered, looking pale. He lifted one corner of the blanket, and showed her the sleeping man's bare chest. The lacerations from the wolves' claws were nearly healed, showing fresh pink skin edged with white. There'd been a bad bite on his shoulder that was looking significantly better as well, and his arm, dusted with a fresh treatment of the shimmering blue powder the Healers had concocted, was looking...less mangled. Part of his hair, behind his ear, had been clipped away from what was now a slightly-raised scar; there were still faint marks from the Muggle stitches in it. The line extended down behind his jaw, and she thought it must have been what kept him from speaking clearly the day before.

"He's looking much better," Bill said approvingly.

"The Healer says he'll be all right. Maybe another week," she heard herself say, automatically.

"You look like hell."

"Thanks."

"Well, I meant it in the nicest possible way."

"Bill, it's not that I don't appreciate the perpetual Weasley good cheer, but it's exhausting in large doses," Tonks said, leaning back against the wall, next to the bed. Bill smiled.

"A polite way of telling me to bugger off," he said, with a nod. "Wouldn't make a bad Weasley yourself."

Tonks laughed, rubbing her forehead. "Thanks, Bill, but I'm tak...I'm..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

She didn't answer, and eventually he turned and left. Once he was gone, she let her legs fold, and slid to the ground.

The world was not this cruel. It didn't take people from you only to give them back, no matter how broken and hurt -- and then take them from you again when you found out what they really thought of you. And then give them back to you because of...because of biology...

His breathing was so even when he slept. He'd been surprised and dismayed, the first morning waking up next to her, to find she'd been...studying him. Watching him. She wasn't the only one, and that had upset him. But he hadn't shied away.

She supposed he probably felt if she wasn't going to run from a werewolf, he wasn't going to run from an Auror.

He had no reason to think she was a spy. No reason at all. There was no good reason.

She rested her face in her hands. Her head ached, neck sore from sleeping sitting upright. They'd known each other for at least a year, and had been good friends for months and she'd been so sure he felt the same way she was beginning to feel...as if their arrangement, their hobby, was leading into something that she wanted and she knew he desperately needed.

"Please don't cry."

She looked up, and saw him -- arm braced on the side of the bed, face slanted towards her, jaw against the pillow.

"It's really not worth it," he said softly. "I mean, I'm obviously not."

She tilted her head, until they were both looking sideways at each other. "Nobody said I was going to cry."

Remus smiled, then winced slightly. "Ow."

"You're talking better than you were last night."

"I'm a lot less doped up. The Muggles had me on morphine. Slept it off. And..." his fingers drifted up to rub the scar behind his ear. "I guess that didn't help matters any."

She waited. There wasn't really anything to say until he shifted, rolling over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Gloating I could understand," he continued. "After all, you were right. I'm so sorr -- "

"Snape told us."

"Yes, I felt him in my head. Awful sensation. I want to scrub out my brain."

"Harry was there too."

She heard the hitch in his breathing.

"They both said a lot of interesting things," she added, slightly bitterly. "Snape, for instance, had some insights into -- "

She was stopped by the opening of the door; Kingsley walked in, trailed by Dumbledore, Bill, and a man Tonks recognized as one of the senior Aurors in the Ministry. Remus struggled up on his elbows, wincing, and breathed heavily.

"Don't get up on our account," Dumbledore said, with a small, dry smile. Remus let out a breath, fell back, and rolled onto his side. His left arm rested across his hip, a vivid reminder of the Death Eaters' attack.

Kingsley slumped into a seat, and slid a long, narrow leather case from his shoulder. It was oblong, with snaps along the length of it, and a piece of strangely-shaped wood visible at one end.

"You must be Remus Lupin," the older Auror said, eyes tracing the wounds and scars on Remus' arms and chest, the healing lacerations on his face. "My name is Jack Longbottom, I've been attached to this case as supervisor. We owe you a debt of gratitude."

"I'm afraid what I'm owed is a sound thrashing for being a fool," Remus said, slightly hoarse. "But as you can see..." he lifted his arm. "That's been taken care of."

Longbottom gave him a grim smile. "Yes, well. If you hadn't been a fool, we wouldn't have a clue that the Death Eaters were infiltrating the feral packs."

"We found the pack's hunting grounds," Kingsley said, his voice lacking its usual booming strength. He sounded strained.

"Did you speak to Alpha?" Remus asked. Tonks listened carefully, eyes shifting between Remus and Jack Longbottom. The older man glanced at Kingsley. "No, I suppose not...how'd you even...how'd you find them? Or even try to talk to them?"

"Well..." Longbottom coughed. "We have our own contacts, you see...not in the pack, but Aurors find it useful to have friends in strange places..."

"There's a werewolf in the Aurors," Tonks said, sharply. Longbottom, after a pause, nodded.

"Two, actually," he said. "It's all kept very quiet. Though I must say recruiting Mr. Lupin is a rather promising prospect -- "

Kingsley very nearly growled. Longbottom spared him a brief, scolding glance.

"As it turns out," he said softly, "we didn't need to use...interpreters."

Remus' eyes focused past the Auror, on the leather case next to Kingsley.

"That's a rifle," he said, thoughtfully. Bill's head turned.

"What's a rifle?" the redheaded man asked.

"It's a weapon you use when you're going to kill a werewolf. A rifle and a silver bullet," Remus said, his eyes closing. "My father used one."

"We didn't have to use it," Kingsley rumbled. "We..."

He trailed off, and Tonks realised this was the first time she had ever seen Kingsley bereft for words. Remus was silent, eyes closed. Tonks watched as complicated communications went on between Kingsley and Longbottom. Bill, rubbing the back of his head, came to sit next to her. Dumbledore was sitting, hands folded, face carefully blank.

"Perhaps it would be easier for a stranger to say it," Longbottom said finally. Remus' eyes opened. "There appears to have been a coup in the pack. By the time we arrived..."

"They killed Alpha, didn't they?" Remus asked. Longbottom drew a photograph out of his pocket.

It would have been so much easier if it had been a Muggle photograph, completely frozen. In fact, the body lying in the photograph was eerily still; the horror was in the way the grass waved gently, all around him. Remus reached out to touch it, thoughtfully.

"That's Alpha," he said. "Did they -- "

"We found twenty-two bodies," Kingsley said. Bill ran a hand over his face. Dumbledore closed his eyes.

"We've already sent one of our...special recruits to the second pack, and we're preparing to talk to packs on the continent. Word is that the Death Eaters haven't made it that far yet."

"Ye gods," Remus murmured. "There were only thirty, thirty-five people in the pack to start with. The children..."

"Children too," Kingsley said softly.

Remus closed his eyes again, right hand rubbing the wrist of his left, just below where the jagged, healing wound started. After a second, he gave a quiet grunt of pain, and rolled until his back was facing them.

"It was very recent," Longbottom continued. "Hours at most."

"His strategy is very simple," said Dumbledore, speaking for the first time. "Join or die. Apparently the pack chose not to join."

Tonks could hear Remus' breathing, quick and shallow.

"Leave," she said, standing quickly. "All of you. Now."

"We thought you should be the first to know," Kingsley said.

"Now, Kingsley. Let him alone."

Dumbledore and Bill left without a word; after another silent conversation -- an argument without speech -- Kingsley and Longbottom left as well. Tonks, tense and shaking, turned to Remus. When they'd left, he'd turned back to watch them; now he looked up at her, eyes impossibly blank.

She put a hand to her mouth, drew a ragged breath, and ran.

***