The Face In the Mirror

The Face In the Mirror

Have you ever noticed how you get a set image of yourself in your mind and no matter how much time has passed or what has happened in your life, that face is still what you see in your mind's mirror? It is frightening how bollocksed up that image can get. It takes a pretty big event in your life for you to get a new and truer picture. Believe me, I know.

I guess I formed my picture of myself during the war. In those years, I was living on a knife's edge and every day I survived, every mission I came back from alive, added to my vision of myself as a strong woman. An Auror. A Metamorphmagus of no mean abilities. A woman with whom it would be wisest not trifle. Tough. Able to take it and give as good as she got. Yes, that was the way I saw myself. On the whole, I believe it was true. But it is hard to live with an image like that. You see, there isn't a lot of depth to it and when the fighting was over and the strength wasn't needed for day to day survival, I began to wonder if that was all there was. At twenty-eight, I felt I'd already out-lived my usefulness.

Mercifully, I was soon made to believe that wasn't so. Minerva McGonagall was rebuilding Hogwarts from the ruins, both literally and figuratively, and I found there was work there for me. The castle was restored and I stayed on to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in the rebuilt classroom wing dedicated to the memory of Albus Dumbledore by Harry Potter, himself. Among my colleagues, there were a number of old friends and allies. Hermione Granger, now married to Ron Weasley, was teaching Transfiguration in Minerva's place, freeing the older witch for her new duties as headmaster. Severus Snape stayed on, teaching and terrorizing Potions classes as he had always done. It was reassuring that some things just couldn't change. The loss of the Gameskeeper and Magical Creatures professor weighed heavily on us all, but Charlie Weasley came, ready to do honor to Hagrid's memory with his own particular skill.

And with Charlie came something much more important to me. With Charlie came a connection deeper than any I'd ever felt. Only a year after the reopening of the school, it played host to a wedding. Charles Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks joined as one in the presence of friends and family. I don't remember ever feeling like that before or since. I had a loving family as a child, but it was only Mum, Dad and me. Dad's family was mostly scattered or gone and Mum's, well Mum's family wasn't exactly loving or accepting. So, when I became a part of the Weasley family, it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.

Over time, I settled in and built my own little place on the vast expanse of bedrock that was the Weasley family Love. It was the foundation for everything they were and did. And it wasn't just me making my way. Ron and Hermione had married just months before Charlie and I. Ginny and Harry were married about a year later. Hermione, Harry and I were all gathered in and cherished as Fleur, Angelina and Katie had been before us. Every new addition to the already enormous group only strengthened them, wove them tighter together. It was like living inside an all-encompassing and never-ending group hug.

And I was happy. So very, very happy.

I grew to feel so much a part of the Weasley family that when Charlie asked how I wanted to spend our fifth wedding anniversary, I remember I just sort of boggled at him.

"Aren't we spending it with the family?"

I can still see his grin as he merely nodded and turned to floo Molly about our plans.

I remember, too, the absolute bedlam in The Burrow when we arrived for the anniversary dinner. Everyone had turned out to celebrate with us. By this time, everyone included Bill and Fleur's two daughters, Fred and Angelina's twin boys, George and Katie's son, Ron and Hermione's two sons and daughter and Ginny and Harry's new baby girl. I remember Molly and Arthur beaming at one another from opposite ends of the longest table ever seen outside Hogwart's Great Hall when we all sat down to the meal. There were two extravagant toasts from Fred and George and many heart-felt wishes bestowed on Charlie and me and we settled down to enjoy Molly's incomparable efforts.

It happened as I watched my family at table. A sudden wave of unreality swept over me as I noted the tableaux that made up the whole picture. I watched Fleur and Bill as they adjusted napkins and cut meat for their girls, creating a living family portrait. Fred and George laughed at the antics of their children as the slipped arms around their smiling wives. Ron and Hermione dished vegetables and minded elbows on the tabletop, smiling over the curly heads between them. Harry helped Ginny slide her chair back from the table slightly to give their nursing infant more room. Settling back into her chair, Ginny glanced up, catching my eye. Giving me a brilliant smile, she said softly, "It doesn't seem right to be this happy, you know?"

There before me were five distinct images of familial joy. The four small groupings that were my brothers- and sisters-in-law and the whole picture which was The Family of Arthur and Molly Weasley. With an odd falling sensation, I wondered what picture Charlie and I made in that great whole. We sat shoulder to shoulder, as we always did, left-handed Charlie preferring to take his meals with his right hand always resting gently on my knee. Conversation ebbed and flowed around us, making the portraits before me shift as much as any wizarding photograph could ever do. And what of Charlie and me?

I was very quiet that night when we returned to our rooms at Hogwarts. I'm not sure how long I sat watching the flames before a stocky, freckled arm slid around my shoulders.

"Want to tell me what's on your mind, Luv?"

"Charlie, we never really talked about children, did we," I said by way of answering his question. "I mean, we've never planned or well, anything."

"No, I don't suppose we ever really have," he said, considering. "I reckon I just expected we'd get to that when, well, we got to that." His finger under my chin brought my gaze to his. "Why? Are we, erm, at that?"

There was nothing in his deep brown eyes but warmth and love. I nodded slightly. The eyes sparkled suddenly as he leaned in to kiss me. I don't recall that we spoke any more that night, words having become entirely unnecessary.

Though we had now shifted into a 'making a family' frame of mind, it didn't really take over my thoughts. We carried on with our duties in classes, Charlie also cared for the grounds and I kept the busy dueling club going. The only time we ever spoke of our hopes and plans was in bed, wrapped in one another's arms, speculating whether or not the Weasley family had, only moments before, increased by one or, since we were talking about Weasley genes, two. Giggles and kisses and that thought would carry us off to sleep.

Our plans for children didn't really intrude on my thoughts in any significant way until Christmas. We were, once again, assembled at The Burrow, all twenty-one of us. Ginny and Harry's daughter was crawling from one person to the next, handing out her own special, if drooly, brand of holiday cheer. The older children were everywhere at once. The overall effect was cheerful chaos. Assembled at table, Harry rose with glass in hand. His toast was dedicated to the family at large and specifically to Ginny who was due with their second child in July.

Amid the cheering, kissing and general congratulations, I noticed Charlie glancing my way. He was smiling, as always and dropped me his usual cheeky wink, but I thought I saw something missing from his eyes. No sparkle. Love, there certainly was as always, but I thought I could see a shadow as well. Shouldn't Charlie have been the one to make such a toast this evening? Why wasn't he? I drew back into my chair, the happy chatter swirling around me like so much wind. Even now, I can't really recall another thing about that Christmas.

From then on, babies, specifically Charlie's and mine, were uppermost in my thoughts. Our lovemaking, generally active and reasonably spontaneous, became so important to me that Charlie began to joke about the insatiability of metamorphmagi. I even took to sneaking into forgotten corners of the school library with books about conception and fertility. I took to owling Ginny several times a week with inquiries about her health and eager questions about her progressing pregnancy.

On a Saturday afternoon at the beginning of Easter holidays, just after I'd sent off my latest owl to Ginny, Charlie took my arm and led me to the couch before the fire.

"Luv, we're going to have to talk about it." I hesitated, but the expression on his face told me it was useless. We really were going to have to talk about it.

"I don't know what to say, Charlie," I answered, weakly. "What do you want me to say?"

He looked at our joined hands, resting in my lap. "It's been awhile now. Do you want to see Poppy about it?"

It was a perfectly reasonable question asked in the most rational manner but it hit me like a blow across the cheek.

"See Poppy?" My voice cracked with nerves. "What do you mean? Do you think there's something wrong with me? Is that what you're saying?"

"Of course not, Luv," Charlie answered, trying to draw me in closer. When I pulled back, he looked away with a sigh. "I don't think anything, Tonks. I just thought we might both go pay Poppy a visit. I thought it might relieve our minds."

So, he'd noticed after all. He'd seen my near-obsession and this was his way of placating me, easing the blow. Because, of course, any problem would be mine. He was a Weasley, for goodness sake. Everyone knows Weasleys have loads of children. It must be me.

I don't think I said anything to him as I rose and walked into our bedroom. Heading straight into the adjoining bath, I gently closed and locked the door behind me. Closing my eyes tightly, I turned to face the mirror, picturing in my mind the strong woman of my mind's mirror. Slowly, I opened my eyes. The face looking back at me from above the vanity was that of a pale, not-quite-young woman with a smallish face, spiky bright hair and a small upturned nose. That was all. I didn't see any strength there. No special gift of metamorphmagic or Auror skills. Just a woman. A woman who wanted a baby and couldn't seem to have one. Resting my forehead against this stranger's reflection, I cried.

The next day, we visited Poppy. She was very kind and very efficient and very definite. There would be no baby. I had sustained such extensive curse injuries during the war that the damage was irreversible. My system had simply had enough. My inner protective magic had shut down any function that could further stress my overtaxed strength. Certainly, a pregnancy fell into that category. Before sending us back to our chambers to digest this news, Poppy offered some words of wisdom.

"Tonks, dear, you mustn't take any blame to yourself for this. It often happens to women in your profession. An Auror's work is noble and necessary and your added efforts on behalf of the Order were nothing less than heroic. But it is dangerous. You are not the first, nor will you be the last witch to find herself facing magical infertility. Trust your magic, dear. Your body knows better than we do. You and Charlie should go and talk about this. It is important that you make this part of your lives together."

Neither of us said a word as we made our way back to our rooms. I knew Charlie had, after nearly six years of marriage, developed an uncanny knack for reading my moods and I was particularly anxious at that moment to stop him doing that. I shuttered myself in as tightly as I could and hoped he'd not push.

It was hard to shut away my feelings, though. I was scared. More scared than I had ever been. All of the battles I'd faced, all of the tough situations I'd come through had made me who I was. It was something I'd always been proud to own as myself. I was a strong woman. A force to be reckoned with. Now, that very strength, the very things that had shaped me had turned traitor. Who was I now?

Once in our own rooms, Charlie again drew me down on the couch beside him. "Don't, Tonks," he said, quietly. "This doesn't change anything." I just stared at him, blank and numb. "I love you," he tried, hopefully. I was appalled that I couldn't answer, but my tongue couldn't seem to find the words. He sighed and drew me into his arms.

We sat that way for a long time without speaking. I don't know what finally triggered it, but I felt something inside me give way and tears ran silently down my face. Charlie, feeling the change, shifted to stroke my cheek with his thumb. "What is it, Luv? Talk to me about it. Please."

The words came out before I'd processed the question. "I don't know who I am, Charlie. Everything I thought was me isn't really me at all. It is some other woman I don't know." I felt my shoulders sag.

Charlie didn't answer but just watched me, thoughtfully. Finally, he drew his wand. "Accio, mirror." Handing the small glass to me, he said, "Have a good look, Tonks, while I tell you what I see."

Hardly noticing what I did, I obeyed.

"Look there, Luv," he said, pointing to a tiny scar shaped like a checkmark on the right side of my chin. "That's the scar from the time you tripped over that awful goblin leg umbrella stand and Grimmauld Place and cut yourself on Hermione's school trunk." Pointing again, he added, "See these eyes? The first time I saw them, they were blue. You'd changed them for a mission. It was three weeks before I had a chance to see they were really hazel and that I liked them better that way.

"Your hair has never stayed the same length or color for more than three days at a stretch except for that time you caught flu and couldn't get Pepper Up from Poppy for nearly a week. You were so miserable, you kept your hair long and black the whole time." He gave me a lopsided grin. "It didn't seem the time to tell you then, but I don't mind saying that long hair was dead sexy."

As I stared into the mirror, my husband's voice went on, sliding over me in long, lovely, warm waves. He listed dozens of things about my reflection I'd never really noticed before, each with a specific memory he'd never shared. He talked on until, at last, he asked, "Now, what are you going to see, Tonks?"

I stared at him, speechless. He kissed my forehead and rose. "You think about it, Luv. When you're ready, I'll be here."

That was nearly a half hour ago, now. I've sat here all that time since Charlie left, watching my reflection in this small hand mirror. I've traced every curve, every line, every mark on my face. I've tried making a few changes here and there. For old time's sake, I even made that silly pig snout that used to make Hermione and Ginny giggle so. How could it be that this face is the same face that has always looked back at me? How could it be all those things Charlie said? After what Poppy told me earlier, shouldn't something have changed?

Then, with a nearly audible click, it comes together in my mind and the image in my mind's mirror blends with the image before me. There has been a change. The strong woman in my mind has joined the woman my husband, my family sees. They are one image now, each a product of the other. Indivisible.

I am a strong woman. A force to be reckoned with. A metamorphmagus. An Auror. A wife. A daughter. A woman. A whole woman but not flawless. No less powerful for those flaws. I'm me. And my mind's mirror sees me, now, in a new and clearer light.

Rising, I look around the room. "Charlie?"

My husband is watching me from across the room. My brow contracts in concentration for a second and my hair lengthens, turning black. Giving Charlie my best wicked grin, I stroll past him and into our bedroom.

~fin~