Transformations

Chapter 3: Christmas at Grimmauld Place

Tonks checked herself in the mirror. The floor was piled with dirty clothing and the counter with notes to herself, but there were none of the small containers and tools that one would expect to see on a vanity.

Tonks turned her head, eying herself critically. "I tell you, the biggest perk about being a Metamorphamagus is that I'll never need makeup."

The mirror answered in a cheeky voice, uncannily like Tonks' own. "If you're fishing for compliments, there aren't any coming!"

Tonks laughed and winked at the mirror as she stepped away.

***

A pinch of glittering green dust took her straight into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The usually gray room was draped with tinsel and greenery. Molly stood at the stove with Remus; Tonks hurried over to join their laughter.

"Wotcher, Remus! Hey, Molly. Oh - thanks." Remus took her cloak from her and paused, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Tonks batted her eyelashes in a mock-seductive manner, swirling her dark hair around her. "What do you think?" It was much longer than usual, down to her hips, but Remus was not staring because of the length. He was staring at the thin gold and silver stripes across it and the multicoloured spots scattered over the forest green background.

"Well?"

"I haven't decided yet." Old-fashioned horror warred with amusement. "Oh. You're a Christmas tree, aren't you?" His eyes danced, lighting up his whole tired face.

"Exactly! You get a prize for being the first to guess."

"I'm also the first one to see," Remus pointed out.

"But you're the only one who came over to greet me - well, not quite, but you were first." Tonks nodded over Remus's shoulder at Molly, who opened her arms and stopped, mid-hug.

"My goodness, Tonks! It's - er - you look lovely."

Tonks laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder like a model in a Sleekeazy's ad. "Thank you. How was the Christmas visit with Arthur?"

Molly brightened up instantly. "Wonderful. It's so sad that he can't be here, but we had a nice little gift exchange yesterday, and he said himself it would be better to have a celebration here, even if it was late and he can't be here. Healer Smethwyck says Arthur is doing excellently. The stitches were only a minor setback, so he might be home in quite a short time!"

Tonks congratulated her sincerely, Molly waxing effusive with thanks. "Oh, my dear, dinner's nearly ready, so could you go tell them that we need some strong men to carry all the food into the main room?"

"It will be done, madam!" Tonks pranced out the door without stumbling once, Remus following with the first loaded tray.

"That colour really does look well on you, Tonks. An angel atop your head and it's perfect."

Tonks cast conspiratorial glance around. "Tell me, Remus, what are stitches?"

***

Tonks' hair was quite the sensation. Professor Dumbledore congratulated her on her Christmas spirit and Sirius nearly choked to death laughing (he seemed extra punchy, for reasons unknown). When all the food had finally gotten to the table and the laughter had died down, Tonks found herself next to Remus.

She leaned over for another helping of pudding. "I forgot. Your prize."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"A game of chess."

"Do you think you'll win?"

"Maybe. I played a lot at Hogwarts."

"Have you played since?"

"Not really. I might need a refresher course."

"That's a prize?"

Tonks flicked her long hair over her shoulder. "It is now!"

***

Some time later, when most of the food was finally gone and most of the guests sprawled lazily in cushy armchairs, Tonks seated herself in front of a table, upon which sat a rather battered chess set. Remus sat across from her.

"So how much do you remember?"

"Enough, I think. Don't you dare go easy on me, or I'll set Mad-Eye on you."

"Of course."

*

Remus was used to playing with opponents who yelled or swore at their pieces, but he'd never before played someone who actually listened to their advice, even if she rarely took it. He also impressed by the creativity of her strategy and daring use of sacrifices, and her almost reckless speed. Tonks, in turn, found that Remus had the conservative defensive strategy she had expected. He considered carefully before each move and had an excellent memory for previous plays.

*

Tonks studied the board. True to his word, Remus had shown no mercy, taking her queen in the first four moves and five more pieces in the next few minutes. He did offer to start over - "Since this is your first time playing in a while" - but she only glared at him and moved her knight closer to his king.

After half an hour, Tonks had her king, one knight, one bishop, one castle, and a few pawns. Remus had about twice as many, some set in a protective circle around his king and some hunting down Tonks' remaining pieces. She had spent the last ten minutes chipping away at the wall around his king, but he had gotten too much of an early advantage.

Tonks spent thirty seconds winding long green strands of hair around her finger before she moved a castle. It was her longest pause yet. Remus shook his head and took the piece she had just moved, only then looking up to see the curiously blank look on his opponent's face.

She moved quickly, ordering her bishop from the corner it had been hiding in, into the teeth of Remus's queen. "Check."

"Queen to -" Remus stopped. Wordlessly, he examined the board again while Tonks, subterfuge over, grinned impudently.

Remus scrutinized various moves, but sat back shaking his head as the game played out to the inevitable conclusion. Remus's little king took off his crown and laid it on the board, bowing to the little white queen who had checkmated him, while their player tried to puzzle out what had gone wrong.

"That was quite good, especially for someone who hasn't played in a while."

Tonks shrugged. "It was risky, but it was the way out."

Remus nodded slowly. "Sometimes it's take that only way or lose." He was looking at the board, but Tonks thought he did not see it. He was running his thumb over a scar that ran up the side of his finger.

She spoke softly. "I've been meaning to ask, Remus - why haven't you been taking Wolfsbane lately?"

His face darkened. Tonks backtracked hastily. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -"

Remus shook his head, his face clearing slightly. "No, it's a perfectly legitimate question."

There was a spate of laughter from behind them, where dessert was being brought out. Neither of the chess players noticed.

"The Wolfsbane Potion - well, a werewolf is essentially a wolf. They look different, you know the signs, but aside of those five signs, they are same physically. The real difference is mental."

His voice changed somehow, something friendly yet with a lecturing note; probably what he had used in the classroom. It was the voice of one who knew his subject backwards, forwards and sideways. Tonks leaned forward, fascinated.

"Real wolves are sociable creatures. They hunt in packs, they have a rigid social order; they are nothing without a pack. Werewolves fight when they meet; they usually end up killing each other. They are vicious killers. A werewolf is an odd-looking wolf with a penchant for flesh."

Tonks blinked, but Remus wasn't watching her any more. His eyes were focused on something at the edge of the table. His voice had dropped slightly lower. Tonks shivered, in horror. He must have so many bad memories after - what? Thirty years? More?

"A transformed werewolf doesn't remember anything of his humanity. And when we transform back into people, we remember only vague things, like the area we were in, or if we ate. I've caught and eaten things before. It's not so much the eating or even the blood, but it - it comes across as vague memories of ripping live creatures apart with one's human teeth."

Tonks felt her heart twist. Which must be part of what's harder on you, Remus, since you're so gentle by nature.

"What Wolfsbane does is to take that nature away. A transformed werewolf under its influence isn't vicious. It doesn't restore the human mind. What it does is leaves a wolf that's rather weak - one of the side effects - but wouldn't hurt a limping mouse. It's rather apathetic, really. But it's gentle."

Remus spoke faster as he went. "You're almost always useless the entire day before the full moon. I would force myself to walk in my office, back and forth and back and forth, telling myself the whole time that I was tired and should rest, and not to try to leave the office because something bad would happen. When I finally transformed, after the pain subsided, I would remember concepts, but not the words. Don't leave, because something bad would happen. Rest, sleep if possible. I think I fell asleep a few times. The pain wakes you up when you transform back, of course. It's not comfortable to be the wolf. The body feels natural, but Wolfsbane or no, there's always a sort of itch at the back of the mind, that something's just the least bit off. It's actually worse with Wolfsbane, because when you don't have the urge to rip everything in sight into tiny shreds, then you have more time to think. Not really think, wolves don't use words, but the presence is a bit stronger. But the pain is always the same in the beginning and at the end. The itch doesn't compare at all."

"And then I wait until I can move and put some sort of bandages on and crawl into bed. Or fall asleep on the floor, sometimes. After about a day, I can function again, more or less."

Remus stopped abruptly. It took Tonks a moment to realize that he was finished. He seemed to be holding his breath. Then he let out a long, slow sigh and sagged back into the depths of his chair. Tonks' eyes were locked on him in shock.

Since meeting Remus, she had spent some time searching for whatever the Ministry had on werewolves. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had very scanty information - the Werewolf Division was the least popular area - while the Aurors' records were darkly terrifying. Neither had had any sort of personal testimony from a werewolf.

She had been apprehensive about meeting him, but she had dismissed all that moments after making his acquaintance. She had wondered where he was, at one meeting, and remembered only when he came back, looking as though he was recovering from a bad bout of the flu. Embarrassed, she had never asked about it and he had never volunteered anything, had never told her what it felt like or what he thought at the time. Now that she knew, part of her wished desperately that she didn't. The other part of her reached out to him, surprised by the depth of his pain, touched by the depth of his strength.

The fire popped. The chess players ignored it. Remus's face was dark with remembered pain and revulsion. Tonks was still attempting to process what she had just heard. It was some time before there was any sound other that the crackling of the fire and the chattering voices in the background.

Tonks jumped when Remus spoke again. "I completely missed the question, didn't I? Werewolves can often tell each other for kin, especially close to the full moon. And when it's close, Wolfsbane produces a slightly altered appearance. A normal person can't tell, but a werewolf would see it every time, a sort of - glazed look. If they see that I've taken it, I might as well wave a banner advertising that I'm in contact with highly skilled wizards. And a lot of them agree with Greyback - he calls it 'a crutch for those not strong enough to admit what they are.' He's run feral too long to appreciate sanity."

"Running feral" was the one piece of useful information that Tonks had gotten out of the Magical Creatures department. It meant one who had decided not only to leave the Wizarding life, but to embrace the wolf, to become the savage beast even in human form. Not many made the choice. Any who did were hunted down by Aurors for "capture", but they always fought to the death. Of the six on record, only one had gone down without killing at least one of his "captors."

Her gaze wandered to the thin scars on the backs of his hands, the streaks of grey in his hair. Each scar, each premature strand was a reminder. She shivered.

Remus thought that deeper things tumbled below the surface of her dark eyes, though her hair, curtained around her, partially concealed her face. "I'm sorry, Tonks. I shouldn't have told you all that. I didn't mean to distress you at all."

Tonks looked up and their eyes met. "You didn't - I mean - I'm your friend."

Sirius and James and Peter had accepted him for what he was. That same friendship shone there in her eyes. Dark brown met light; each saw understanding. Understanding that was both everything and enough.