Dumbledore's Secret

Chapter 20

Tonks wrapped her fingers around her mug of tea and inhaled the fragrant steam.

"Milk, darling?" her mother asked, handing her a small pitcher.

Smiling wanly, Tonks shook her head. "I need my tea strong and undiluted today." She took a sip, not caring that it was hot enough to burn her tongue. Then, leaning back in her chair, she looked around her parents' kitchen and let herself be comforted by the way this sunlit room had failed to change over the years.

"Dora, try not to let it get to you," her father said, dumping several lumps of sugar into his tea. Then he winked. "Think of it this way ...If you hadn't have been suspended, you'd never have gotten a chance to come visit."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Ted, I hardly think that's soothing."

Tonks managed another smile. "No, Dad's right, I am glad to visit."

Of course, she could have cared less about her suspension, but she didn't tell her parents that. It had been a convenient excuse when she'd shown up on their doorstep, bawling like a little girl. She really hadn't known where else to go; headquarters was out of the question, and besides, she'd never known anyone better at comforting her than her mother and father.

"I'm glad we ended up taking the afternoon off," her mother said. "I'd hate to think of you showing up to an empty house."

"I'll admit, I was surprised to find you at home," Tonks said. "A slow day at St. Mungo's?"

Ted snorted. "Is there ever slow day for your mother? I, of course, take off whenever I want, but your mother ..."

Andromeda pursed her lips. "Well, I'm sure your plants don't mind, Ted, but my patients do. I wouldn't have left early today if my double shift last night hadn't worn me out. I must be getting old."

Ted shook his head and smiled. "If you can help it, Dora, never marry a healer. We herbologists are a much more laid back bunch of people."

His wife crossed her arms. "Well, I didn't force you to marry me."

"Oh, Andie, you know that once I laid eyes on you, I never had a chance."

Tonks, who normally found her parents' bantering endearing, burst into tears.

"Dora?" her mother asked quietly, reaching across the table and running a soothing had along her arm. "What's wrong, darling?"

Tonks shook her head, unable to speak.

"This isn't about your suspension at work, is it?" her father asked quietly.

She felt her face redden under her parents' scrutiny. "I ... I don't want to talk about it," she choked out, unable to meet their eyes. "I... I just want to sit here and drink my tea."

"That's fine darling, you don't have to say a word," her mother assured her. "Sulk all you like."

Tonks poked out her bottom lip. "I'm not sulking."

Her father laughed quietly. "Of course not. And since you're not sulking, I'm sure you won't mind if I turn on the wireless, will you?"

"Ted!" Andie scolded. "This isn't a good time to listen to the latest Quidditch talk."

"How about political talk? If you don't mind, Dora. You said you didn't want to talk, after all. Weasley's press conference is coming on in a few minutes."

Tonks looked up in surprise. "Arthur's giving a press conference?"

"Do you know him?" Ted asked.

"Uh, a little, from work," she mumbled. Her parents didn't know that she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and she preferred to keep it that way. She didn't doubt their support of her or the cause, but she worried about putting them in danger, especially now that Bellatrix Lestrange, her mother's deranged sister, was on the loose. The less her parents knew about Order activities, they less valuable they'd be to the Death Eaters.

"It's difficult to imagine Arthur Weasley as Minister of Magic," Andie said, absently stirring her tea. Then she laughed. "Though it's not at all hard to imagine Molly Prewett in that role! She'll be the real power behind the throne, if he manages to get elected."

Ted chuckled. "I remember when she was Head Girl. We didn't dare cross her!"

"Oh, you Gryffindors had it easy!" Andie said. "She was in your house. But we Slytherins ... we had to watch out. She had it in for us."

"And rightly so," Ted returned. "Slytherins are much more devious. Isn't that right, Dora?"

"Huh?" Tonks was only half listening to her parents. She was staring out of the kitchen window, imagining what it would be like to banter with Remus over tea. "Stubborn man," she muttered to herself, running a hand across her eyes.

"Well," her mother said quietly. "I was wondering when this would happen."

"When what would happen?" Tonks asked warily.

Her mother raised a finely sculpted eyebrow. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Ted said, "Shhh. The press conference is starting."

"Ted, your daughter is in tears and you're ..." Andie began.

"No, let's listen," Tonks said, happy for the interruption.

She felt a quiet pride swell inside her as Arthur spoke. He was nervous; that much was obvious. But he was holding his own. And when he spoke Voldemort's name - something Tonks had never heard him do before - she actually smiled. She caught her parents exchanging a curious glance, and she wasn't sure if that was due to Arthur's boldness or her reaction to it.

"Mr. Weasley! Rita Skeeter, The Daily Prophet," a shrill voice sounded over the wireless.

Tonks groaned. She'd heard all about Skeeter's so-called journalism from Hermione, Ginny, and Molly. This couldn't be good for Arthur.

"Mr. Weasley," Skeeter continued, "are you saying, then, that you're against the Minister's executive order to control dangerous dark creatures? After all, the Minister has said that..."

Tonks's heart nearly stopped. Was Remus listening to this? And how would Arthur respond?

"No, Ms. Skeeter," Arthur interjected. "What I'm saying is that these current regulations are a waste of our time and energy. Before Odgen signed his executive order, we had perfectly good regulations on the books. The Interim Minister is diverting Aurors and other law enforcement personnel away from the all important task of neutralizing the Death Eaters."

"Well, that was a very political answer," Andie murmured. "Craftier than I'd have given him credit for."

"But don't you think," Skeeter retorted, her strident voice penetrating the shouts of the other reporters, "that these dark creatures are likely to being working in tandem with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"We've seen no evidence to support that claim, Ms. Skeeter. Next question."

"But," Skeeter demanded, "does this mean you support the werewolves and vampires?"

"Next question," Arthur said, obviously exasperated.

"Mr. Weasely, I'd like a straight answer," Skeeter demanded.

"A straight answer on what, Ms. Skeeter?" Arthur asked. "I've already said, I think we need to be applying all of our resources to the Death Eater threat."

"So does this mean," Skeeter continued, "that you support Headmaster Dumbledore's decision to appoint a known werewolf to the staff of Hogwarts? I'm sure there are many parents who are very concerned about what this will mean for their children, to have a dangerous beast roaming the halls of their school."

"That conniving little bitch," Tonks muttered, earning her surprised looks from both her parents.

"Uh, I, uh ..." Arthur stuttered across the wireless. Tonks held her breath. Please, she thought, closing her eyes, please don't let Remus down, Arthur, please stand up for him.

"Remus Lupin," Arthur said after taking a deep breath, "is a good man and a good teacher. I wholeheartedly support Dumbledore's decision. That's all the questions I have time for. Good day."

Tonks let out a heavy sigh of relief as her father switched off the wireless.

"Well," Andie said, shaking her head, "Weasley just ruined any small chance he had to be minister."

"What?" Tonks demanded. "I thought he did a wonderful job!"

"Yeah, I was rather impressed with him myself," Ted said. "He stood up for what he believed in. I find it rather refreshing."

"Of course you would," Andie said with an indulgent smile. "You're both classic Gryffindors. But from a political standpoint, he's ruined. He just stood up for a known werewolf. That's not going to be popular."

"Maybe not, but it's the right thing to do!" Tonks declared, her eyes flashing.

"Is it really?" Andie asked, tilting her head. "Tell me what's better, Dora. A good man who has no power or a man with power who can do some good."

Tonks huffed and looked away. "Just because Arthur stood up for Remus, that doesn't mean he's not going to be elected."

"Hmmm, I have to agree with your mother on this one, Dora," Ted said, leaning back in his chair. "Like you, I was impressed with his honesty, but the two of us alone aren't going to get him elected. Weasley was much better off avoiding the issue or changing the subject back to the Death Eaters. But that reporter trapped him into admitting a pretty unpopular opinion. Most people agree with Odgen's newest regulations."

Tonks gripped the edge of the kitchen table. "And by most people, do you mean the two of you? You actually agree with the idea of innocent people being branded like animals?"

"Hey, there's no need to shout, sweetheart," her father said, looking concerned.

"Think of it from my perspective," Andie said. "Over the last 25 years of being a healer, how many children have I seen who've been rushed into St. Mungo's, their lives forever changed, perhaps even ruined, because they've been bitten by one of these creatures?"

"And so this is your solution?" Tonks cried shrilly. "To brand those very children, to punish them for some crime they didn't commit?"

"I never said," her mother replied calmly, "that I approved of the branding idea. But I do think that strict regulations should in place to keep these creatures from spreading the problem to others."

"These creatures, these creatures," Tonks muttered. "They're human beings, Mum, just like you and me."

"They're not like you and me, darling. They're werewolves and vampires. They have a much greater potential for killing and maiming and ruining lives. You can't deny this, no matter how much you fancy this Remus Lupin."

Tonks stared at her mother. "How did you...I mean, I don't know what you're ..."

"Oh, please, darling, we aren't blind and stupid."

"Actually," Ted interjected, "I must be. What is this? You fancy this bloke Lupin? Since when did this happen? I didn't even know that you were well acquainted with him!"

"Oh, come on, Ted," Andie said, "haven't you been listening to Dora for the past year? I think she must have mentioned Remus about ten or twelve times. 'Remus Lupin, a friend of mine, thinks this' or 'Remus said that.' And then there are all those times that she mentioned her anonymous 'friend.' 'My friend, who is a fantastic chess player...'" Andie smiled at her daughter. "You're very transparent darling, and I love you for it."

Tonks blushed hotly. "Just because I've happened to mention him doesn't mean that I fancy him."

"Well, do you fancy him?" Ted asked, his face serious. "Is this why you're here today, in tears? If he's done anything to you ..."

Tonks managed a smile. "No, Dad, there's no need to go into overprotective father mode."

Andie laughed. "Though it is rather endearing."

"You haven't answered my question, Dora," her father said, giving her a hard look.

Tonks stared down at her hands. "I do fancy him," she admitted softly. Then, unable to stop herself, she began to sob. "But it doesn't matter," she managed brokenly.

"Shhh," her father said, pulling her from her chair and into his lap. "Shhh."

As Tonks buried her face in his jumper, she felt more than a little ridiculous; she was, after all, a twenty-four year-old woman, not the little girl who had so often run to her father for comfort. Still, four or twenty-four, she had to admit that it felt nice to have him soothe her.

"Dora," her mother said quietly, touching a hesitant hand to Tonks's blue-black hair, "if you fancy him, why are you sitting in our kitchen, crying?"

Tonks raised her head in surprise. "You just said you thought werewolves ... don't you disapprove?"

Taking her daughter's chin her hands, Andie said, "It's not for us to approve or disapprove, darling. If you fancy him, you'd be much better off telling him that, don't you think?"

Tonks's eyes welled up again. She jumped from her father's lap and began to pace around the kitchen. "He knows how I feel, and I'm pretty sure he feels the same but ..." She shook her head. "These stupid regulations! He told me today he didn't think we'd work, that it would be too difficult, that I'd be miserable..."

"And you agreed with that?" Andie asked.

"Well, no of course not! I don't care about what others think!" As soon as she spoke, however, Tonks glanced questioningly at her mother. "I mean, what you just said, about werewolves being dangerous, do you really believe those regulations should be in place?"

"Dora, werewolves are dangerous," Ted said quietly.

"Not Remus!" Tonks retorted angrily.

"Oh really?" Andie asked with a raised eyebrow. "Do you mean to tell me that, at the full moon, he wouldn't bite a person if he didn't have the chance?"

Tonks glared at her mother. "First of all, there's the Wolfbane Potion. You know very well that it keeps people afflicted with lycanthropy from losing their rational minds."

"For the most part, yes," Andie agreed. "So, he as access to Wolfsbane? It's very expensive, very difficult to come by."

"Yes, he has access," Tonks bit out, suddenly furious that she even had to consider such practicalities. "And even if he didn't..."

"Dora, don't be stupid," her mother cut in. "I don't care how wonderful he is all other days of the month, on the night of the full moon, he is a werewolf, and without Wolfsbane ... even with Wolfsbane, he is not human, he's a dark creature, and as such, he's unsafe!"

"Fine, but all those other days ... you don't know him! If you did, you'd realize he's the most ... human man I've ever met!" Tonks exclaimed.

"We do know him, at least a little," Ted said quietly. "From what I remember, he was a very polite, very quiet man."

Tonks looked at her father in surprise. "You've met him before? When? How?"

"It was many years ago," Andie said, her dark eyes suddenly sad. "Before Sirius..."

Before Sirius. It was, in the Tonks household, as real a way to demarcate time as Before Christ was in the muggle world. Of course, for her parents, Before Sirius meant before Voldemort, before Sirius's betrayal, before Harry Potter. They, like most of the wizarding world, knew nothing about Sirius's innocence. For Tonks, however, Before Sirius had taken on a whole new meaning: before the Veil, before Bellatrix Black Lestrange, before that horrible night in the Department of Mysteries.

"Do you remember that apartment the four of them lived in just after Sirius's graduation?" her father asked, getting up and putting his arm around his wife. "It was a hellhole!"

Andie laughed sadly. "I think your Remus, darling, was the only one of those four who knew how to clean. Certainly Peter and James and Sirius didn't ..." Andie stopped, unable to continue. She pushed away from her husband and went to stand at the window.

"Did...did I ever meet him, as a young girl I mean?" Tonks asked in amazement.

"Lupin?" Ted asked. "No, I don't think so. The few times we went to Sirius's place, we left you with a friend, or you were in grammar school."

"Did you like him?" Tonks asked, wincing at the desperate tone of her own voice.

Her mother turned from the window and smiled. "Yes, I suppose, though we spoke to him only a few times."

"Did you know that he was a ..." Tonks couldn't finish.

Andie nodded. "Oh yes. I knew he was a werewolf, almost from the start."

"Because Sirius told you?" Tonks asked.

Andie laughed bitterly. "No, Sirius managed to keep that secret."

Tonks had to look away. Gods, how she wished she could clear Sirius's name; she hated that he had gone from the earth before her mother could be reconciled with him.

"No, I knew by the scars on Lupin's face," Andie said quietly. "I see those sorts of scars all the time in the emergency wing. Werewolves are often too poor to have regular healers, so they often end up coming to us as a last resort."

"They're poor," Tonks said, her voice growing angry, "because people discriminate against them. And you want to brand them, to make them stand out even more..."

Andie turned away, her face set in hard lines.

"Dora," her father said firmly, quietly. "Your mother helps everyone who comes to her, you know that. And she has already said that she does not approve of branding. Do not accuse her of anything malicious, do you understand me?"

Tonks hung her head. "Mum, I'm sorry, I just ..."

Andie turned to her daughter and sighed. "I know darling, I know. You and I are sometimes like opposite sides of a coin. I know I can seem cold about this, unfeeling, but there are real dangers involved here, you understand that, don't you? You have a big heart, but you must also use your head."

"Do you or do you not approve?" Tonks asked, confused. "I don't understand how you feel about this ..."

"How do I feel?" Andie asked with a sad laugh. "I'm worried about you, darling. I want the best for you. I want you to be safe. But I also want you to be happy. If that means loving a werewolf ..." Andie shrugged. "Who am I to tell you where your heart should go? Still, I'm begging you, be careful."

Tonks closed her eyes, moved beyond words. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, "It doesn't matter. He won't have me."

"So you said already," Ted murmured. "And yet, you also said that he feels something for you?"

"I think he does ... I'm sure he does. But he thinks he's not good not enough for me, he thinks he'll hurt me, he thinks ..." Tonks's voice trailed off helplessly.

"He sounds," Andie said hesitantly, "like a good man."

Tonks's eyes filled with tears. "The best of men, I think. And yet, tomorrow, he'll be branded, and there will be no one there for him."

"Well, you'll be there, of course," her father said matter-of-factly.

Tonks sighed. "Dad, you don't understand, he walked out on me, he told me that we shouldn't see each other ..."

"And what," Andie asked, "does any of this have to do with you being there for him tomorrow?"

"Mum, he rejected me!"

"And I thought this was about him, not you," her mother retorted, brow arched.

Tonks opened her mouth, then promptly closed it.

"He may not be ready for a relationship," her father said quietly, "but I'll bet he could use a friend right about now."

"Yes," Tonks whispered, "I'll bet he could." She chewed on her bottom lip. A thousand little voices whispered, you can't do it, you shouldn't do it, it won't work, how will you know when he's arrived at the Ministry, what will you do if ignores you, what if you upset him more, maybe you should just leave him alone, he obviously doesn't want you, maybe you could have Molly check on him instead, don't go see him, he doesn't want you, he doesn't want you...

She glanced up at her parents. "Neither of you happen to know anyone who works in the Beast Regulations Office, do you?"

Her father grinned. "I may have a contact there." He turned and winked at his wife. "You know, Sarah Morton, my sixth-year sweetheart..."

Andie rolled her eyes. "Who now has seven children of her own. I'm surprised she's off her back long enough to hold down a job."

"Mum!" Tonks exclaimed, laughing in spite of herself.

"You should see her when she really gets jealous," her father said, wiggling his bushy blond eyebrows.

"If you contact her," Tonks asked her father, "do you think she'll help me out? Do you think she'll let me know when he's shown up at the office to be..." She closed her eyes. The very thought of him being branded made her sick.

"I'll floo her right now and ask her," her father said quietly.

When Tonks opened her eyes, her father had left the kitchen, and her mother was staring at her, concern evident in her dark eyes.

"You think I'm mad, don't you?" Tonks asked with a sad laugh.

"Not at all, darling. You're forgetting who I am. I am the pureblood daughter of the noble Aeneas Black, and I dared to marry a lowly, common muggleborn."

"By the way, have I ever thanked you for lowering yourself in that way?" Tonks joked, her face softening into a smile.

"Darling," her mother said, coming to stand beside her, "you thank me simply by being alive." Kissing her on the cheek, Andie smiled and left Tonks to wonder what she had ever done to deserve such a family.

*

Remus felt oddly numb as he sat in the waiting room of the Beast Regulations Office. Staring at his assigned number (678), he realized that waiting to be branded was rather like waiting at the Apparition License Office, where the lines were notoriously long and the workers excruciatingly slow, where even though you really didn't want to pay some hassled bureaucrat 20 galleons to renew your license, you knew you had to, and so you waited expectantly, even hopefully, for your number to be called.

"Do you think," he asked a pale man sitting next to him, "they actually issued the number 666?" His neighbor only stared blankly at him. "You know, the mark of the beast," Remus added with a desperate laugh. The man shifted on the bench so that he sat as far from Remus as he possibly could.

"Remus Lupin, outcast among wizards and werewolves alike," he muttered to himself. Enough self-pity, Moony. At the thought of his nickname, he reached inside the pocket of his robes and pulled out the photograph that he'd spent half the night staring at.

He wondered, not for the first time, who had been the one to take the picture. Probably Lily, judging by the insane smile on James's face. No doubt James would've been running a hand through his messy black hair had his arms not been looped around the shoulders of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Remus stood on the edge of the photo, his hands stuffed awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans. Every once in a while, Sirius would reach out with his free hand and grab Remus's arm, trying to pull him into the center of the picture. But the photographic Remus always resisted, his face twisted in a half smile, half grimace.

"Number 677, you're up."

Remus glanced at his number, even though he knew he was 678 and not 677. He felt a sudden urge to tear the little scrap of parchment into shreds, throw it at the clerk, and leave the Beast Regulations Office - no, leave England - for good. He'd go back to Austria, where he'd spent most of the summer, and he'd live with the werewolves in the Alps. Every full moon, they'd run wild through the mountains, frightening the humans who, every other day of the month, frightened him. Or maybe he'd escape to America and take up woodcarving (a secret hobby of his). He'd settle down in some small, rural town where the people would talk, where they'd wonder how he had gotten his scars and why he disappeared for a couple of days every month. The teenagers would egg his run-down house, and the adults would buy his woodcarvings at country fairs.

He'd come up with a dozen more scenarios as he'd packed his trunk the night before. Waking up from his drunken stupor sometime around two in the morning, Remus had ignored his splitting headache, ignored the horrible taste on his tongue, and popped out of bed as if he'd not spent the last twelve hours alternately drowning and puking up his sorrows. He'd gone immediately to his trunk and thrown all his books, all his clothes, all his belongings into it. All except one. As he'd dragged his case to the hallway, he'd noticed the photograph stuck crookedly on the back of his bedroom door. He'd yanked it off, and he would have stowed it with the rest of his belongings, except the photographic Sirius had decided, at that very moment, to wave at him. Dropping his trunk, Remus had cradled the photograph in both of his hands and stared at the picture until morning.

Though he'd spent what must have been hours gazing at the moving picture, his thoughts had been unvaried and simple: Sirius - dead; James - dead; Peter - traitor; Remus - coward. Like a broken muggle record, the progression looped through his head. Sirius - dead; James - dead; Peter- traitor; Remus - coward. What an unexpected ending to the glorious adventures of the Marauders.

The voice in his head had started off as his own, but somehow, by the early morning, it had become Harry's voice repeating those words over and over again. Sirius - dead; James - dead; Peter - traitor; Remus - coward. And that had been the only thing that had forced Remus to unpack his trunk and crawl back into his bed. Harry. He could not leave Harry.

Tonks, he was sure, was better off with out him, as were Albus and the rest of the Order. But Harry needed him. Though Remus put little value on his abilities as a teacher or a mentor, he knew, deep down inside himself, that Harry needed him. By some cruel twist of fate, Remus had become the last real link to the parents Harry had never really known. There would be no one else who could tell him stories about James's pranks and Lily's kindness, no one else who could remember James's obsession for pumpkin pasties and Lily's love of poetry. Only Remus Lupin, werewolf and loner, knew these things now.

"Number 678, please report, number 678."

Remus stuffed the photograph in his pocket and rose slowly from the bench. He could feel the eyes of the other werewolves on him as he made his way to the reception desk. And yet, the people behind the desk, the untainted ones, refused to look at him. Their eyes remained focused on their parchments or on the wall just behind Remus's head. The man who asked, "You're 678?" didn't even look up as he spoke.

Remus nodded, knowing the clerk couldn't see his response.

"I said, are you 678?" the man repeated. Remus said nothing.

"Are you deaf?" the clerk demanded, finally glancing up in exasperation. Remus met his eyes and glared.

Flustered, the man quickly looked away. "Uh, here, this is for you," he said, shoving a form across the reception desk. Rules and Regulations for All Beasts in Magical Britain.

"Sounds like a fascinating read," Remus muttered, reluctantly taking the parchment.

The clerk glanced up again, surprise evident in his face.

"What, we werewolves can't have a sense of humor?" Remus asked with a scornful smile. He scanned the document. "Hmm, let's see ... cannot bite, maim, or kill humans ... don't see anything here about not being able to use sarcasm. Perhaps it's in the fine print. Am I missing something?"

The clerk's mouth opened and closed several times before he stuttered, "Uh, name and ID#."

Remus sighed. No amount of mockery was going to make the branding go away. "Remus Lupin, case number 9277," he said, pocketing the Rules and Regulations parchment.

As he waited for his clerk to gather his files, Remus caught one of the other clerks staring at him. "Do you have a problem?" he asked, meeting her gaze.

She flushed and looked away. "Just ignore him, Sarah," one of the other clerks told her, and she nodded distractedly, hurrying behind a partition.

"All right, follow me," his clerk said, leading him through a maze of cubicles and into a small, windowless room in the back of the office. When the clerk opened the door, a woman inside the room let out a screech. At first, Remus thought she was an employee, but then he realized that she was half dressed, her robes undone to the waist. Just above her bare breasts, there was an angry, red mark in the shape of a W. Remus quickly turned away, though not before catching a glimpse of another woman, this one fully dressed in Ministry robes, pocketing a wand.

"Hi, Roberta, didn't realize you were still with this one. Sorry about that," the clerk said.

"It's fine, Norris, just finishing up," said the Ministry offical. "You just have a seat over there - " She glanced at Remus and waved her hand at several chairs near the door - " and I'll be right with you."

As Norris the clerk headed to the door, Remus followed him.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Norris demanded, glancing at Remus over his shoulder.

"Can't we give her some privacy?" Remus asked, nodding his head to the woman who was hastily reassembling her robes.

"Oh, don't worry about her," Roberta the official said. "She's done now, aren't you? Now, don't forget your Rules, there you go. Okay, your turn!" She beckoned Remus with a crook of her finger.

Remus didn't move from the door. Instead, he looked over at the female werewolf, his face full of sympathy. But she only gave him a hard stare before hurrying past him through the doorway.

"Come on, now don't be afraid," Roberta cooed, a syrupy smile on her face. "It will only hurt for a moment, I promise."

Remus didn't know which was worse: the clerk's indifference or the official's condescension.

"Now," Roberta said as Remus reluctantly sat on the small examining table in the middle of the room. "Before our little procedure takes place, I want to make sure that you understand all of the new regulations. Have you read the sheet?"

"Not really."

"Now, now, you had better read the sheet, you don't want to cause any trouble, do you?"

"Oh, no," Remus said, matching her sugary tone, "I would hate to cause any trouble."

Either she didn't notice or didn't mind his attitude. "Good, good. Now, for time's sake, let me just point out the most important rules. The procedure will result in an identifying symbol..."

"You mean a brand," Remus interrupted.

"...that will appear on your outermost layer of clothing. So, if you should put robes over your jumper, the symbol will appear on your robes. And when you take off your robes, the symbol will appear on your jumper. Is that clear?"

"Very clear. Tell me, if I'm wearing nothing at all ..."

"Oh, the symbol will always remain on your chest."

"That's a relief," Remus said. "I certainly don't want to forget what I am when I'm taking a shower or going for a swim or, God forbid, trying to seduce a woman."

For the first time, Roberta looked rather alarmed. "Well, yes, uh, certainly. Now, moving on..."

Remus gritted his teeth.

"If," she continued, "you should try to conceal the brand in any way - though really it's quite impossible to do - you will be subject to a fine of 1000 galleons and a one month prison sentence in Azkaban. That's for the first offense. The second offense..."

Remus held up a hand. "All right, I understand, it's illegal to try to hide the brand. Can we get on with this, please?"

Roberta was beginning to look a little piqued. "I'm only trying to help. Now, one of the most important rules to keep in mind is the curfew ..."

Remus sighed. "Yes, yes, I already know, we're not allowed out on the day of the full moon."

"Oh, no, that's been changed, that's the old regulation. For three days before the full moon, the day of the full moon, and three days after, you must remain in your place of residence."

Remus gaped. "Three days before and after? Are you mad? That's an entire week!"

"Yes, so it is. Now, if you'll remove your robes and pull off your shirt..."

"Do you know what this means for most of us?" he demanded. "One week out of every month, stuck in our houses, if we have houses to go to? How do you expect us to hold down jobs? As it is, no one will hire us, there's no way..."

"Please, there's no need to get upset. Now, kindly remove your robes and shirt."

Remus ignored her, choosing instead to put his head in his hands. He felt like he'd entered some other world, a nightmare in which everything that could go wrong did. "A whole week," he muttered, wondering suddenly if he'd be forced to remain in his rooms at Hogwarts for that length of time. If so, there was no possible way he could teach. He'd have to tell Albus he couldn't do it, perhaps he could stay at Grimmauld Place, but without money ...

"Come along now, there are others waiting," Roberta said, tugging at one of his sleeves.

Remus raised his head slowly and met the official's eyes. "Do you feel no shame for what you're doing?" he asked her, his stare unwavering.

She glanced away, but her lips formed a tight line. "Why should I feel shame?" she asked harshly. "I'm just doing my job. Now, undress before I call in a guard."

Taking a deep breath, Remus reached for the buttons on his robes. As he pulled off his clothes, he continued to stare at her. She looked away uneasily.

Raising her wand and pointing it at his scarred chest, she muttered, "Lupus Macula."

As the magic burned the mark into his skin, he tried to think of Tonks, of Harry, of his dead parents, of Sirius and James, of anyone who had ever cared for him. But his head echoed with the words of the spell: Lupus Macula, stain of the wolf. Stain of the wolf.

"There now." Roberta's voice had resumed its saccharine tone. "That wasn't too bad, was it now? Put on your robes, and don't forget to read those rules carefully."

Remus swallowed a groan as he slipped his t-shirt across throbbing chest. He watched as a bright red W surrounded by an equally red circle appeared on the solid blue fabric of the shirt. Touching a tentative hand to mark, he almost expected it to be bloody, but it felt no different than the cotton fabric. Shrugging on his robes, he slipped off the examination table and headed for the door.

"Have a nice day, and send in the next person, will you?" Roberta called sweetly after him.

Slowly, Remus turned in the doorway. "Fuck you and do your own job."

"Why, how dare you..."

Remus stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Still clutching the doorknob, he leaned back against the door and sighed. If only his pettiness could make him feel better. But the ache, both on and in his chest, remained.

As he made his way through the maze of cubicles, he heard a soft voice call out, "Uh, excuse me, your name is Remus Lupin, is it not?"

He glanced in surprise at the speaker. It was the female clerk who had been staring at him when he'd been called to the reception desk.

"My name is Sarah Morton," she said, trying to smile. "You, uh, you taught at Hogwarts a few years back, didn't you?" Without waiting for an answer, she said, "I have two children at school there right now. They both remember you, they say you were one of their favorites. My son, Edward, was a second year at the time you taught, and my daughter, Yvonne, was a first year. You probably don't remember them, I know you had a lot of students..."

Remus said quietly, "Ravenclaws, both of them. Edward did an interesting report on hinkypunks, and Yvonne was quite good at spellwork."

Sarah's face brightened. "You remember them! Oh, they'll be so pleased! We heard you're teaching again this year, and I can't tell you how happy we are ..."

Remus felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. "Was there something that you wanted from me?" he asked harshly.

Sarah's face reddened. "Oh, I ..." She looked down at her feet. "I'm really sorry about what they're ...what we're doing to you."

Remus only glared at her.

"Uh, anyway, I wanted to tell you that you have a friend waiting for you, she's in the reception area. Here, I'll take you to her."

Surprised, Remus followed her into the waiting room. Ignoring the stares of the other werewolves, he gaped as Tonks rose out of a chair and took a step toward him. Today her hair was dark blonde, wavy, not quite touching her shoulders. Somehow he knew that it was her natural color and cut.

"Remus." Her voice was hesitant, and her countenance unsmiling.

When he said nothing, Tonks looked away helplessly. Then she smiled awkwardly at Sarah. "Uh, thanks, Mrs. Morton."

Sarah nodded and said, "Tell your parents hello for me, will you? Good day, Professor Lupin," she said, nodding at him.

He managed to nod at the woman before he turned back to Tonks. "What are you doing here?" he asked her quietly.

She met his eyes. "I thought you might not want to be alone today." Then she looked away. "But maybe you do. If you do, just tell me, I mean, I can understand, I know that I..."

"Tonks." He took a step toward her.

"I shouldn't have come, should I? I'm really sorry, I only wanted you to know that you're not alone, that I'm ..." As she babbled, she began to pace. Walking blindly into a chair, she stumbled, righted herself, and resumed pacing.

"Tonks." He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.

She stilled and looked up at him. "Remus."

"Fancy a walk through London?" he asked, forcing his lips into a half smile.

Wordlessly, she nodded. Sliding his hand to the small of her back, he walked with her out of the Ministry and into Muggle London.

Once out on the street, he stopped and turned toward her. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out, so he closed his mouth and settled for staring down at the top of her head.

"I know it was a little presumptuous of me," she said, glancing up at him, "to show up like that. Mrs. Morton, she's an old friend of my dad's, and he suggested ..."

"How," he cut in, "could you show up here today?"

She looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry, Remus, but I..." Her voice trailed off.

"No, Tonks, I mean, how could be here after the things I said to you, the way I treated you..." Suddenly, his eyes stung, and he looked away, embarrassed.

They were silent for a moment before Tonks asked quietly, "Even after all that, we're still friends, aren't we?"

Friends. Remus cleared his throat. "Yes, of course."

She sighed. "Good."

"Yes, good."

They both looked away awkwardly.

"Well," she said, "shall I walk you back?"

"Only if it's not too much trouble," he said.

"No, it'll be nice to walk. Nice day." She flushed. "I mean, weather wise, it's nice."

"Yes, very nice," he agreed politely, glancing up at the sky. "A little humid, though."

They traveled in silence for the remainder of the walk. When they stepped into Grimmauld Place, he stopped, just inside the doorway. She took several steps before she realized that he was no longer at her side, and when she looked back, he said quietly, "You took a big risk coming here today."

Meeting his gaze, she whispered, "I figured you were worth it."

He closed the gap between them. "And yet yesterday, I basically told you that you weren't worth it."

She touched a hand to his elbow. "You were upset."

"I ran away."

Her hand slid up to his shoulder. "You needed time to think."

"I'm a coward."

"You're a brave man," she said, her hand now at the nape of his neck. Then she brought her other hand to his chest. "Does... does it hurt?" she whispered, her fingers just below the mark.

He looked down at her and marveled at the vanilla scent of her hair. "Just a little. The idea of it hurts more than the brand itself."

Hesitantly, she spread her fingers across the mark until the W disappeared beneath her skin.

"Tonks, after what I said yesterday, I would understand if you wanted nothing more to do with me, but I want you to know that I was wrong, that you are worth the risk, that even if we don't make it, I want to try, I want..."

Her hand slid up his chest, across his bobbing Adam's apple, over his chin, and to his lips. "Shhh," she whispered, tracing his lips with her thumb. "Shhh."

Cupping her face with his hands, he leaned down and kissed her.

When finally he pulled away, she said rather breathlessly, "Well, that was worth a year's wait, don't you think?"

He smiled and pulled her into an embrace.

"Oi, Remus... Tonks?"

Remus turned at the sound of George (or Fred)'s voice.

"We're not, uh, interrupting anything, are we?" the other twin said, a lecherous grin on his face.

Tonks blushed and started to pull away, but Remus wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and said, "Yes, you are, actually, so get the hell out of here."

One of them grinned while the other gave a mock salute. Then, hurrying out the front door, George (or was it Fred?) muttered, "About bloody time."

Alone with her once again, Remus was suddenly embarrassed. He stepped away from her and said, "Uh, what are you up to this weekend?"

"Oh, I was planning on staying with my parents until Sunday, until the Order meeting."

He smiled at the disappointment in her voice. Then he said, "Well, I should spend some more quality time with Harry anyway."

She nodded. "But I'll see you on Sunday."

"Yes, on Sunday."

"Well," she said, reluctantly moving to the door, "See you, then."

"See you."

She turned to open the door, glancing back one more time, as if she wasn't quite sure that he was real. She gave a little wave, and he suddenly found himself striding toward her. After kissing her one more time, he said, "Sunday."

"Yes, Sunday," she murmured before pulling away reluctantly and closing the front door behind her.

He stared at the door for a moment, then turned and bounded down the kitchen stairwell. By the time he reached the bottom step, his grin was so wide that his cheeks ached. Stepping into the kitchen, he saw Molly and the teens sitting around the table, chatting over lunch.

"Remus!" Molly cried upon seeing him. She must have spotted the brand because her eyes widened and her face paled. "Oh, Remus, dear, how are you?" She jumped up from the table and pulled him into a bear hug. "When you weren't at breakfast this morning, I was so worried, I thought ..."

He cut her off by giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Stop your worrying, I'm perfectly fine. Umm, cottage pie, smells delicious," he said, going over to the stove. He glanced at the teenagers and smiled at their stunned expressions. "What?"

"You're not drunk again, are you?" Ron asked, his eyes big.

"Ron!" Molly scolded.

But Remus laughed. "Not on alcohol," he said, grabbing a plate and loading it with food.

"Not on alcohol?" Molly repeated, and Ginny giggled.

Remus sat down beside Harry, who was looking at him like he'd grown two heads. "You know, Harry, I never did get to play Quidditch with you on your birthday. Fancy a match with an old man?"

Harry gaped for a moment longer before saying, "Uh... but..." Then he glanced at the brand. "Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.

Remus felt the others' eyes on him, and his face became solemn. "You know how it is with scars, Harry. You get used to them."

Harry glanced at him in surprise, then grinned. "Yeah, I guess you do. Okay, I'll play you, but I'll not be nice just because you're my professor."

"Fair enough," Remus said with a smile.

"Are you sure you're up to flying, dear?" Molly asked with concern.

Remus grinned at her. "Molly, today I think I could fly even without a broomstick."

Ginny giggled again, and Hermione murmured, "Oooooh!" Ron and Harry simply exchanged bemused glances.

Molly gave him a hard look for several moments before her face relaxed into a smile. "Well, well," she said. "It's about bloody time."

Remus couldn't have agreed more.