Hogwarts' Spy

Tonks stormed out of the Headmaster's office with a discreet shade of pink still clinging to her soft cheeks. Once more, sick worry had driven her to his door, and once again, embarrassment and disappointment had driven her out. At least, Dumbledore had not laughed or even giggled at what she had to say, and Merlin be thanked, he had not taken the opportunity to act like her father either. He had listened politely to her inquiries and barely hidden reproaches, and then he had given her a much too familiar reply.

"I am sorry I cannot give you any information, Tonks, but the lack of news does not mean he is in trouble. As for him being in danger, what can I say? He is there by choice, not by obligation."

Not by obligation, my arse! she thought heatedly.

All of the Order members felt somewhat obliged to be up to Dumbledore's expectations. And with Lupin, there were even more reasons. He was someone who could do many things for the greater good. He was ready to sacrifice his quality of life, his free time... risk his life, even. As honourable as it sounded, Tonks could not fully accept it. It certainly gave her one more reason to respect and admire the wizard on most days. But when his ethics drove him to practically live with he man responsible for cursing a part of his life and make it feel like hell, she simply could not appreciate him the same way. Actually, it swayed her towards the opposite.

"Frankly, I am a bit surprised by your reaction, Tonks," Dumbledore had said that night, in a last failed attempt at being comforting. "Think of what lead you to become an Auror!"

What could she respond to that? Dumbledore had known her as a student, and he knew her as a grown witch now. She was not the kind of woman who would sit passively while others had their share of fun or action. Her mere presence in Hogwarts testified to this most eloquently. Should any Death Eaters, or Voldemort himself, make an attempt to force their way inside the school, she probably would be injured, maybe severely... maybe even worse. Some people at the Ministry considered acting as a guard in Harry Potter's vicinity suicidal behaviour. Despite all this, despite her age and experience, she had volunteered all the same.

The motive that stipulated something about keeping her mind occupied elsewhere, however, had faded away in a matter of weeks. It was just no use.

Tonks' eye caught the pale shape of something that had been abandoned on a window frame in the long corridor. To her mild surprise, she found a crippled piece of parchment and picked it up with a lightly puzzled frown. House-elves were not this neglectful usually, and though the castle was old and some of its places bizarre, areas like this one were definitely spotless most of the time.

She unfolded the piece of parchment with the intent to look at its contents briefly, so she could either dispose of it or hand it to Filch. However, as soon as her eyes came across the first sentence, she became enrapt by the unexpected prose. She sat on the wide stone frame and brought both her feet up. A quick check of her watch reassured her: she still had about fifteen minutes before the end of her break.

The first part of the text brought back painful but sweet memories to her mind. It was as if the unknown author had tapped directly into her feelings, spied on her as her body spoke that exact language. They were like that, not so long ago. It had begun most innocently, when she had spilled some tea on his sweater. It was over a year since that night; yet, had it occurred yesterday, she would have remembered it just as clearly. His arm had jerked upward from the sudden pain caused by the burn, and he had spilled the contents of his own cup on his lap. Tonks' cheeks had turned to a bright shade of red, which would have made any rose turn green with envy, and before she knew it, she was trying to soak up as much liquid as she could with one of her sleeves. He put his hand on her wrist then, just as her confused embarrassment made her begin to dab his right thigh. He Vanished the stains in a heartbeat with a quick flick of his wand. In the heat of the moment, she had taken it as a defensive gesture to prevent her from touching him in more delicate places. Minutes later, she realised that, in fact, his touch had been as gentle as his smile, his eyes bright, and his cheeks slightly flushed.

"You'd think that I'd be a bit better at cleaning messes by now, eh?" she had exclaimed, trying to salvage her failing composure in front of the Order members who were staring at her in a wide variety of manners.

"A wise man once said that one's true magical talent resides not in one's use of magic, but rather in one's judicious restraint," he had replied calmly.

His touch, both from his eyes, his voice and his hand, had clung to her for the rest of the evening and night. Things developed slowly, at first. The Order meetings were almost the only occasions they met, so contact was rare. She noticed she began to anticipate these meetings and, later on, that she put more care than she used to when she chose the outfit, hair colour and features she would wear on these occasions. Nevertheless, despite her efforts, he never commented on her choices, much to her disappointment. That is, until she started thinking less hard and kept more parts of her anatomy in their original state.

His eyes lingered on her for longer periods of time during the meetings. He was definitely starting to notice her as more than the "militia comrade" she thought she was for him. It was all in the little things... he started smiling more at her, managed to sit either in front of her or close to her seat around the meeting table, and he always tried to highlight her opinion whenever he could during the numerous discussions that took place. With time, she came to understand that what the wizard appreciated the most, both when her appearance and opinion were concerned, was when she expressed herself the most naturally. That thought kept her warm even during tracking missions on the coldest nights, at the time.

Lupin had moved in with her cousin that year, and it had created wonderful opportunities. If Snape was always the first to leave, she became the unofficial last, and her animated conversations with her cousin and his friend often kept them talking for hours. During the spring, these conversations had transformed into a formal invitation to dinner before a meeting. Thanks to Sirius' kind initiative, it had already become a habit by the end of April. It allowed Lupin and her to know each other better. She became acquainted with his wilder side, both through their conversations and from observing his interaction with her cousin, and what she heard and saw seduced her even more. Lupin was more than the reserved, humble, sweet and well-mannered wizard he put forward when he was around other people.

Once upon a time, it was us...thought Tonks, feeling contradictory emotions sneaking their way through the warm tenderness that inhabited her.

Like the mysterious author had described, their hands began to search each other on the surface of the table, and their legs were on the same quest below. She could tell whether he was in a room or not before walking in; his scent -and the abrupt clutching of her stomach that came each time she picked it floating in the air- had become familiar... and feverishly sought. They were spending a bit more time together, and just like the text suggested, she had to refrain from reaching out and touching him, running her fingers through his hair or across his lips. Even her clumsiness came to her rescue and almost never failed to make her collide against his tall and sturdy form each time she ached for his touch. For once, she thought it extremely useful, and the sparkles it lit in the wizard's eyes suggested that he found that trait absolutely charming.

Contrary to the protagonists depicted in the anonymous essay she held in her hand, however, she had eventually gathered the courage to speak out and express her feelings to the handsome wizard. Sirius had not failed to notice how she managed to arrive always a little earlier each week for dinner, and left accordingly late in the evening. He had even started to disappear mysteriously to other parts of the house whenever he had the chance in order to give them some privacy. One week in June, she had found him alone at the dinner table downstairs; the object of her affection was away on a mission for the Order.

"Why the long face, cousin?" he had declared mockingly after her arrival. "Tough day?"

"Yeah, something like that," she had replied in a slightly moody tone.

"By the way, Loverboy says 'sorry, couldn't make it'; he'll try to be back before the meeting begins."

"Who's Loverboy?" she had asked, sitting rather inelegantly opposite him.

"Come on, Tonks! It's time for it to come out in the open, don't you think? It's mating season, for Merlin's sake! Rejoice!"

"If it's one of your nasty jokes again, mate, you'll-"

"I'd never play tricks on a friend... at least not that way. I mean... not now."

"Then why don't you just spit it out?"

"Sure! I have a big problem," Sirius had declared earnestly. "That good old Moony fancies you; I even think he's got it bad. But being --as always-- damned true to himself, he won't tell you. And believe me, cousin, I've done everything I could to help your cause; that's the least I can do for Aunt Andromeda. When I told him you've fallen for him-"

"You what?" she had exclaimed, feeling both frozen to the bone and overly hot. "Sirius, you-"

"He was so pleased to hear it I thought I'd have to Bind him to his chair," he had continued, his mocking smile broadening even more. "It still doesn't seem to be enough of a nudge to open his mouth, though."

"Why d'you think that is?"

"You know Moony," he had begun, running his hand through his hair with an annoyed and mischievous expression, "he's a little self-conscious about his lycanthropy. He and I, we go way, way back... and it took him months before he finally let me keep him here on full moons. 'Too dangerous'... 'Irresponsible'... 'Not your problem'... 'Don't want to be a burden'... blah blah blah! Same old song!"

"So you reckon he's not telling me because of his lycanthropy?"

"Yeah, I think that's what's holding him back. I also think it's stupid!"

"Really?" she could not help but ask, hope fluttering its wings within her again.

"Really. Look, I'm not fond of this, and I'm not good at this, but here's the thing," he had declared, becoming unexpectedly very serious and leaning forward over the table. "Moony is the only close friend I have left, and I care for the bloke, really. I have always cared for him. I tell you, he's had his share of hard times, more than most people go through in a lifetime. Some girls -and many other people- made him take loneliness for granted, and that it's acceptable because of his condition, and believe me, if I'd been around these past years, it would have never happened. He deserves to be happy; he deserves to find a nice girl who'll give him just that, take care of him, watch over him. It's his turn now. And I think you'd be perfect for him."

"Thanks for saying that..."

"I'm not just saying that. I've seen you with him and I saw all I needed to see; I'm reassured. The only thing I don't see is action."

"What do you reckon we should do?" she had asked, her heart about to explode with enthusiasm.

"I can't do much more than what I've been doing. Blimey, I have kicked his arse so many times that both my feet hurt! I think you should talk to him."

"But the only times I see him we're here!" she had protested, feeling as panicked as she had felt thrilled. "And when we're out, we're on Order business!"

"That's why you have to create the perfect setting. And that, mate, you can totally leave to me," he had declared in a conspicuous manner that suddenly took ten years off his face.

That moment was to be the last heartfelt conversation she would have with him. The following week, while Tonks was still waiting to see what her cousin would invent to keep his promise, fate had swooped down on them all. She had found herself trapped in a hospital bed, and he, trapped between the world of the living and that of the dead. Lupin had visited her every day for hours at St Mungo's, a thing that made the convalescence definitely easier to endure. He was completely devastated by the death of his friend but, curiously, it had brought them even closer. Their silence took a different meaning, and the things that were expressed were infinitely deeper than those that had passed between them during happier chats. Lupin was the type of man whose mere presence was often more comforting and eloquent than the words that came out of his mouth.

It had taken her so much courage to finally come to Grimmauld Place, one evening in July! Confessing earlier might have been perceived as very rude, so she had summoned all her patience and waited. Sitting next to him by the fireplace, feeling slightly nauseous from nervousness, she had started to speak. Slowly, at first, as clumsy words stumbled their way out of her mouth, and then more and more fluently as his eyes betrayed nothing but openness and calm. Once she stopped talking, slightly breathless and still wondering if she wanted the ground to swallow her whole or propel her into his arms, he had taken her hand delicately in the slick warmth of his, making the second option far more desirable. He had not said much, but he had been as kind and gentle as she had expected him to be, telling her how good she made him feel, which was about all she needed to hear.

Some never-ending instants later, their lips had met, placing some missing pieces in the incomplete puzzle that were Tonks' fantasies. She could tell he was as avid about loving caresses as she was, for their hands and lips never seemed able to move away. She felt at home in his arms, at long last, and she did everything for him to feel that way, too. Alas! Just as she reached for the first buttons of his trousers, he had grabbed her wrists in a distressingly different manner.

"Wait..." he had whispered, apparently making tremendous efforts to bring his heavy breathing back to normal. "Just... wait."

The enchantment had ended there. He had explained, very uneasily, that his hesitation was caused by everything but a lack of experience, a thing that Tonks never doubted in the least. And then, he had explained that she was too precious for him to rush things, that he wanted to build their relationship at a slow pace. He had said that he wanted some time to think.

And I gave you some thinking time, Remus, she thought, clenching her teeth. Bloody weeks of it!

They had met a few times after that night. They had kissed, they had groped, but nothing more. He had always stopped her when she wanted to go further. Each time he opened her arms, she felt ready to melt against him, give herself to him in every possible way, but he always failed to fulfil the promises his arms and lips seemed to scream out loud. Tonks was not what one would have labelled as patient, and she had soon grown tired of piling up such frustrations. Sitting straight on the couch next to him, she had confronted him.

He had finally spit it out. How he could not possibly engage in a serious relationship with a witch of her age who had all her life in front of her, who deserved to find someone better than him, someone who could make her happy, offer her a stable life, a steady income, a safe environment, and so on. He had sounded embarrassed at first, but as his explanation dragged on, he had even become a little harsh in his firmness to silence Tonks' vehement protestations. As she had slammed the door that night and for a long time afterwards, she hated him for stopping there as much as she loved him for having the courage to do so.

No more sighs, please... you are wasting precious time...ended the essay, a conclusion that sounded full of reproach to Tonks' ears.

"I wish we wouldn't waste our precious time indeed, for bloody Merlin's sake!" she exclaimed, crushing the parchment in her fist.

They had not really broken up, for they had never officially begun something. That was the tragedy of it all. No matter how stubborn Lupin remained, his eyes were still betraying him. Now, he was turning them away whenever hers met them. A bit out of embarrassment, and a bit to hide what glowed within their depths. She knew there was still something in his heart that was aimed at her and her only, and that knowledge fed her hopes every day. Unfortunately, these hopes were difficult to hide, and he had started to avoid her. Dumbledore's assignment had probably been very welcome in the fall, much to Tonks' despair. His owls had become scarce... and they had completely stopped coming shortly before what was to be the murkiest Christmas she had ever known.

She was becoming bitter and depressed, a little more each month. The winter had been particularly gloomy for her this year. The nervousness that rose inside of her each time she thought of him, each time she tapped her wand against the Headquarters' door, did not feel the same. It had rung with excitement before. Now, it only echoed the emptiness of her being, as if her stomach and heart were hollow. Useless.

No matter how hard her friends tried, she was not able to take her mind off him; he haunted her thoughts from one dawn to the next. She worried about his safety, and worried about how far he drifted away from her while spying for the Order in Greyback's pack. She wondered whether he was forgetting her in another woman's arms... a woman, she thought venomously, who was as old, as wasted and "unwhole" as he was, and therefore, who gave his conscience no hard time. Most of all, she wondered if, wherever he was, he still thought of her before he fell asleep each night, just like she did.

The piece of parchment bathed her face in a golden glow as it burned in midair before her. She hated herself for crying again.

~)*(~