First Moon...
This has been a labour of love (and hate) for about the last three months. To be honest, it's been a bit of a monster for me from start to finish. Originally, it began life as a writing exercise/drabble inspired by the poem ‘Words, Wide Night’ by Carol Ann Duffy, but I kept feeling there was more I wanted to explore, so decided to take it that bit further. Hopefully, it's not been over-cooked! And of course, massive hugs and appreciation go to my betas Merrin, Claire and Heather.
Summary: Tonks experiences Remus the Werewolf for the first time.
First Moon
Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this
is what it is like or what it is like in words.
- Words, Wide Night by Carol Ann Duffy -
The Burrow was a friendly place to be. And tonight, it was humming with activity and conversation. Harry’s seventeenth birthday was a milestone everyone had felt it was important to celebrate, made even more important by the funeral they had all attended just three weeks previously.
Naturally, Molly Weasley had put on a great show and for the first time in weeks, the look of burden on Harry’s face had been replaced by a smile. Most of the Order had been invited - save one - and many of Harry’s Hogwarts friends, but now they were all leaving, out into the mists of a fading summer’s night. Nymphadora Tonks had spent the best hours of the evening sitting on the lawn outside, talking with Kingsley, Moody and occasionally, some of the children.
But a little after ten, when the light had all but faded, she had retreated back inside, finding the empty sofa a perfect place to sit and disappear.
“Is this seat taken?”
She had just rested her head back and closed her eyes when a familiar voice whispered hotly in her ear. Tonks’ face split into a grin that was almost too big for her face and she twisted around. He was standing behind the sofa, hands in pockets, looking tall and thin in clothes that were too big for his frame. But, despite this, the skin around his eyes was creased, highlighting a genuine smile. “That depends on who’s asking?” she teased. He moved around the arm of the sofa and folded his gangly frame into the space next to her, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her up tight to him. “You look tired…” she murmured as she nestled into his chest, breathing deep of his comforting scent.
“Two days to go,” he replied, wryly, and she felt him take a breath in and hold it for a lengthy few seconds.
She frowned and looked up at him. “I’d forgotten…”
“That’s alright… I didn’t expect you to be counting down the days.” He smiled, but it was like a tear in paper. “Not like I do, at any rate.”
A pause, and then she sighed. The truth was she had been counting down the days in her own way, thinking ahead to the inevitable first full moon from the night they had first shared a bed. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”
He swallowed and she heard it. “Dora, you know it’s foolish…”
“But it’s what I want,” she said, twisting in his arms so she could lean on his chest and look him straight in the eyes. They were troubled.
“I can’t let you do it. It’s too dangerous.”
“You’ll have taken your potion…”
He shook his head almost imperceptively. “But Snape isn’t here to make it anymore… and…” A sigh crept out of his mouth, like a rush of air from a punctured balloon. “It isn’t the same as it used to be. I still end up more wolf than man.”
“But you wouldn’t hurt me…”
“I can’t be sure, Dora, and I’m not willing to take the risk.” He stroked her hair, picking up a loose tendril and pulling it gently through his fingers. “So you must stay away…” His eyes fixed on hers. “It’s imperative.”
She looked away. “I want to be with you…”
“You can… just on the other side of the door.”
Tonks started to object again, but he silenced her with a kiss. “Please, just do this for me, Dora,” he pleaded against her mouth.
“Now then, you two lovebirds!”
It was Arthur Weasley, a glass of mulberry wine in his hand, and as drunk as a proverbial lord. Lupin and Tonks looked up together and Arthur chuckled, “There you are!” he announced, raising his glass in the air and spilling a little over the side. “You’re even moving as one now!”
Lupin smiled at him. “Arthur,” he greeted. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m good, too good…” The chuckle came again, this time accompanied by an unexpected stumble. Instinctively, Lupin’s hand shot out to grab him, but Arthur managed to right himself. “And I can see you’re good too!” Lupin looked at Tonks, who smiled at him acidly.
He rose out his seat, and gently directed Arthur away. Glancing back at Tonks, he added, “I’ll see you Friday night, then…?” She nodded. He leaned in and pressed a kiss onto her lips, but she did not return it. “Half past six, outside Featherstone’s?” Again, another nod. “Don’t be angry with me, Dora…” he said, as he bullied Arthur out of the door.
Tonks watched him leave, then closed her eyes and sighed.
***
Friday arrived quicker than she had ever thought it could and she reflected with a degree of bitterness that it was true what was said about time passing faster when all you wanted it to do was slow down.
She glanced at her reflection in the windows of the shops she passed as she walked, watching as a stranger stared back at her in alien black trousers, embroidered top and beaded necklace. She’d paid particular attention to her hair, but whatever she had done to it tonight, long, short, curls, straight, punky… nothing had seemed right.
Tonight everything seemed like she was seeing it warped.
The white-painted building of Featherstone’s loomed in front of her like an iceberg in a millpond sea. Its tall glass windows were lit already with blue-white light, strung with teardrop-shaped baubles and bore the shadows of its diners, intimate with heads pushed together.
He was pacing a few repeated feet, like a pendulum, immediately in front of the main entrance, his black overcoat flapping around his legs. Tonks was suddenly overcome by a storm surge of love for him and allowed herself the brief flash of childishness of skipping up to him and enveloping him from behind in an all-consuming embrace. “Hi,” she breathed into his ear, and he spun around in her arms and kissed her.
“Hi, yourself…”
He held her back from him. “You look stunning.” His brown eyes sparkled.
She dropped her head coyly and thanked him. He proffered his elbow and she took it. He led her through the swinging doors and into the foyer. The roof was glass and above them, fair-weather clouds hung in the still blue sky. A blonde-haired witch slipped soundlessly from nowhere and took his coat, then guided them across the white tiled floor to a table by the far wall.
They sat, he ordered champagne, and the witch disappeared.
In the light of the candles fluttering between them, he looked pale and fragile, bags under his eyes big enough to stow a week’s worth of luggage and a new gauntness to the angles of his face. She tried not to show her concern, but it seemed he had grown perceptive to the tiny changes in her facial expressions. “I know,” he bobbed his eyebrows. “I look like death warmed up.”
She frowned and reached across the table for his hand.
He allowed her to take it and rub it silently between her fingers. “But you’ll get used to it…” he smiled wryly.
“Is it always this bad?” she found herself asking.
Lupin shrugged his shoulders. The blonde-haired witch returned and placed an ice-bucket on a silver tripod to the side of the table, popped the cork on a green glass bottle of champagne and sank it into the bucket. She threaded two black dragonhide menus between them and departed as silently as she had arrived. “It’s different every time…” he said in a low voice that sounded like a confession from a secret past. “It’s worse some months than others…”
She gazed at him, but did not speak. He continued, “When I was younger, and still growing, the worst part was the transformation itself… now it’s the aftermath. These days, when the moon goes down, it can take hours before I can even move, days before I loose the shake in my hands.”
“Remus, I had no idea…” Her voice was like a shard of a broken glass.
He smiled gently. “Why would you?” He reached out and cupped her face in his hand. She pushed her cheek into his touch. For a long moment, he was silent.
“I’m sorry, I’m not very good company tonight,” he murmured finally. “I don’t mean to be distracted.” He smiled and it glimmered around his eyes like the seduction he had only half a mind to pursue. The other half was on something completely different.
She snagged the champagne bottle by the neck and filled both their glasses. He watched as the fizz funnelled up the side of the glass, threatening to spill over, then just as quickly, retreating. “Then let’s talk about something else…” she smiled at him.
He nodded thankfully, plucked up the glass from the table and clinked it gently against the rim of her own.
***
The rest of the evening passed without mention of what would happen when the moon rose, but despite their best tactics of avoidance, it still stuck between them like a stretch of No-Man’s Land.
They left a little before nine, just as the sun was beginning to sink in the sky and the clouds of night were starting to gather on the horizon. There was time to walk back, he told her, and took her hand in his, holding onto her like an anchor. They both tried to talk about other things, but before long, the conversation grounded.
“Let me stay with you,” she whispered as he lit candles in his room and pulled the duvet and blanket from the bed, pooling them on the floor by the hearth.
“Dora, no…” he told her firmly. He drew the curtains almost completely closed, save a small gap through which it was possible to see the sky and the roof gardens of the houses opposite, then undressed slowly and methodically.
Turning around, he fixed her with a definite look, seeing the flash of defiance in her eyes. “But I want to… I can cope if you’re not… if you’re not you… I’ll get out.”
She went to him and pressed her palms against his chest. He felt the hairs on his chest prickle from her touch. “I’ve got my wand,” she affirmed.
“No… It’s too dangerous.” His eye drifted to the gap in the curtains. The sun was just a burning orange halo dipping behind the rooftops, and the sky was painted a hypnotic graded blue. A clear night was in store. “You can wait outside. I’ve charmed the door to lock when you leave and when I open it again you’ll know it’s safe to come in.” He smiled slightly. “I’d like to see you in the morning.”
She smiled back at him then, knowing what that little phrase was code for. “I thought you said you were worse afterwards…?”
“It’d be nice to feel your arms around me…”
She kissed him, like gossamer against his lips. He closed his eyes and fell into the kiss, reaching up to cradle her face. His breath brushed across her cheek as he pressed his nose into her neck and nuzzled the warm, velvet skin there.
He lifted his head and looked once again to the window. The sky was the colour of the bottom of a mountain lake.
He swallowed, and bent to kiss her again, tasting the arousal on her lips. She was soft and pliant against him as he squeezed her tightly, sighing low.
Then, for the briefest of moments, Lupin felt his consciousness flutter.
Like a diver desperate for oxygen, he gasped and it echoed around the still and silent room. The first beginnings of the burning started deep in his bones, and he pushed her away from him. His eyes widened as the shivers started to take over. “Get out, Dora…” he managed to wheeze. She did not move; fear had frosted her over. Frantically, he motioned for her to hurry, finally reaching out and pushing her roughly towards the door. “You have to get out…! Go!”
***
Frightened by his push, Tonks stumbled backwards hurriedly, unable to tear her eyes away from him. The shivering had become shaking and a deep moan was wracking out of his lungs, like it was being wrenched from the depths of his gut. His eyes were amber and glowing like coals fallen from the fire. She stepped backwards and reached for the door handle behind her, turning it in hands that were suddenly slippery with sweat.
Lupin was changing now. Bones were lengthening, skin splitting and darkening. She turned and grabbed the door handle, yanking it and fleeing out of the room.
In the silence and darkness of the corridor, there was a slide and click and the door locked. She heard his cry reach a pitch, then ebb away. Frozen to the spot, she listened like a deer at the door, crouched slightly and tensed. There was a thud, then a soft whimper, sounding like the cry of a pup for its mother. A few scratches on wood followed, then another thump, and finally, the howl of the werewolf surged out in a crescendo.
Tonks jumped backwards; she couldn’t help herself, and drew in a sharp breath. Silence fell then, like a fog, over the corridor. She listened intently for any sounds of him moving around, but there was nothing. Perhaps he had settled himself in the bed of blankets he had laid on the floor. Feeling her initial burst of adrenalin abating, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms and leaned back against the banister railing. She sank slowly to the floor to begin her vigil.
Sometime later, she woke from a vague slumber and listened again. Darkness lay thickly around her and the house was silent as a tombstone. Her eyes were drawn to the door in front of her and for a long moment, she stared at its heavy oak mass. No sound came from within, not even a scratch or a rush of breathing. Contemplating, she realised that she was tempted to open the door and look beyond it, into the room she knew the wolf was still occupying.
She kneeled up and leaned forward, listening again. Still nothing. In the hallway below, the grandfather clock chimed three and overcome by rash bravery, Tonks took out her wand and muttered an incantation known only to aurors. The handle that had been charmed by Lupin earlier turned of its own accord and with a gentle push, she peered through the tiniest gap.
There was nothing in the room, and her heart took off around her ribcage like a hundred metre sprinter, even though she knew there was no way to breach the magical defences Lupin laid around the room; the wolf was trapped within, whether it liked it or not. Her eyes scanned the floor, checking the bundle of bedding in front of the hearth, then the bed itself. Suddenly, and as unexpected as a mugger, a wet snuffling and hot breath rushed over her face.
She nearly screamed, but stopped herself at the last moment. The wolf’s face was inches from her own, breathing damply and sniffing. Blazing amber eyes stared straight at her. It sniffed again. Tonks scrunched her eyes closed and willed herself to get out, but quickly discovered that her magic was as inert as she was.
Then, quite abruptly, the hot breath disappeared. She opened her eyes and saw that the wolf had moved away. It was backing over to the furthest corner of the room, as if inviting her to come further in. A look she had seen before danced across its features…
Remus.
Tonks started at the realisation. Against all rational judgement, she opened the door further and stepped inside, moving as smoothly and obviously as she could. The wolf continued to look at her.
And she stared back. For moments briefer than snowflakes, Lupin’s personality had risen to the fore and his consciousness had greeted her. Then it had sunk back into the mire of otherness and had quickly returned to that state she did not recognise.
A warning growl momentarily punctuated the silence and she halted in the doorway. There was nothing between her and the wolf now, just a half a dozen paces, perhaps less. Amber eyes glinted lamp-like in the darkness, but it did not move. She could hear it breathing, low and steady, and tried to calm her own breaths to the same rhythm.
She took a step towards it and it mirrored her movement, lifting its nose slightly, tasting her scent on the air.
The look was back in the wolf’s eyes. Tonks felt a growing desire to reach out and touch the coarse fur that covered the back of its neck. But instead, she straightened her shoulders and forced her gaze to meet the glowing yellow eyes.
But she was sure. For the briefest of seconds, she was sure that she had sensed something beyond the wolf in those eyes. It had been like a flash of lightning or a spark of electricity, but it had been there. It was unmistakable.
He had always been unmistakable.
She flitted her gaze away from the wolf’s insightful, watchful stare. It was unnerving, and she couldn’t stop her heart from hammering urgently in her chest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was studying her. It took another step towards her.
Slowly, its nostrils flared again and she heard it take in a series of staccato breaths.
That same look again… this time accompanied by a flecking of hazel around the wolf’s irises. She was so close now she could feel its hot breath blowing across her skin.
The room was utterly silent, yet Tonks felt as if there was screaming in her ears so loud it would surely wake the entire house. She took a breath in, faltering and uncertain, feeling the hair on the back of her neck bristle and rise.
“Remus?” His name was onto her lips and into the air before she could stop it. “Remus, can you hear me?”
Tonks hesitated. She didn’t know to which one of them she was speaking. And she needed to know, desperately. She scanned the wolf’s face. Fear had made her question sound weak, pathetic.
For a long moment, the wolf did not move, then slowly, it turned and stalked to the back of the room and sat down on its haunches a distance away from her. It looked at her in an expectant manner, its body perfectly still.
Tonks remained motionless, but gradually, her courage built, and she sidled further into the room, towards the stool in front of the ancient desk he worked at. Deliberately, she sat down and crossed her legs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.
The wolf remained statue-like in front of the window.
“Remus?” she murmured again. The wolf’s stare did not waver. “Remus, if you can hear me, lay down…”
Seconds past, then, like a wire coat hanger being folded on itself, the wolf laid itself down on the wooden floor, its chin resting on its right foreleg, eyes peering orangely up at her.
“Merlin…” her exclamation escaped on a breath of wonderment.
That movement, that response had been too much, too close to the real thing; the understanding behind it had been too genuinely rendered. She met the burning eyes in front of her. “You can hear me, can’t you?” she murmured. “You can understand me?” She felt like she was on her hands and knees, scrabbling around in the dark.
The wolf made not a move.
Tonks held out her hand, palm upwards, like her mother had taught her to do when approaching strange dogs in the street. The wolf smelled the air again.
Then, quite suddenly, it climbed gauntly to its feet and moved towards her. It stopped just out of reach, then leaned forward, sniffing her hand. Tonks felt her heart pitch into her throat. A wet, vaguely slimy nose touched her outstretched fingers, leaving coldness in its wake. Her breath stuttered out.
Another step, and its face was pressed against her palm and she could feel the roughness of its fur, whiskery and like wires. There was warmth behind the bristles, and a movement of a swallowing reflex. The wolf’s eyes drifted up to hers again and this time, she knew it.
Lupin’s personality rushed over her like a wave and she couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face. “Hi…” she murmured.
Those eyes were the same ones that had looked at her a thousand times and Tonks knew that it was him, knew that she recognised what was reflected in them.
She felt its head move slightly and then press more insistently against her palm. Relief flooded over her and she brought both hands to the wolf’s head, cradled it and stroked the coarse fur around the ears. It closed its eyes and sank to its haunches. She followed suit, then crossed her legs and waited while it adjusted its position so it could lay and rest its head in her lap. “It’s nice to feel you,” she whispered, echoing his words from earlier, and let her head fall back against the wall, a smile on her lips.
They stayed that way for an hour or more. The wolf slept for a while, but just as she began to hear the first notes of the dawn chorus begin to sound out across the city, it lifted its head and climbed suddenly to its feet, its claws scrabbling hurriedly on the floor. A growl rumbled out of its throat. Tonks frowned, and fear thumped once again around her body. It backed up, away from her, and she noticed that the amber eyes were growing darker with every second.
She glanced out of the window and saw that the light was gathering in the sky, casting milky rays across the world. She climbed to her feet, edging along the wall towards the door; he was about to transform and she was gripped by a realisation that she had no idea what to expect. The books she had read as part of her training had talked about the transformation from man to wolf, but never the reverse. She knew she should probably leave and give him the privacy of aloneness, but once again, found her curiosity turning her feet to lead weights.
The wolf’s back was arching and the hairs along its spine were rising like the prickles of an angry porcupine. Its head was rolling, eyes unfocused and white foam dripped from its open mouth. The growl had grown louder and higher and was becoming a wallowing cry of pain. Ears pinned back against its head, it fell to the floor as if it had been dealt a mortal blow and began to shake uncontrollably.
Tonks stifled a cry as she heard bones crack and reform. She heard something in the back of his throat that sounded like splintering oak. His newly-formed fingers curled and reached. His head tipped back. Muscles and sinews in his neck corded. Lupin breathed hard, as if he was atop a mountain and could not find sufficient air to breathe. The hair began to withdraw into his skin, leaving behind a red rawness that seemed angry and violent; and steadily, human features replaced lupine ones.
Gradually, the shaking lessened, and then stopped, but he seemed unconscious. Sweat gleamed along his back like the sheen on mercury. He was breathing shallow, aching breaths as if he’d just run for his life from a terrible foe.
Without thinking, Tonks rushed to where he lay and kneeled down beside him. She laid her palm against his cheek as if she were touching the most fragile of porcelain sculptures. She brushed the damp hair from his forehead, touched his taut throat.
Like a newborn taking its first breath, Lupin gasped awake, the surge of air squeaking in his windpipe. He opened glazed eyes and looked up at her in disbelief. He tried to speak, but she shushed him quiet and drew him next to her. Curling against her awkwardly, he hid his face in her lap.
“Oh, Remus…” she sighed, and stroked his hair back from his face.
They were quiet then for a long time, while his breathing returned to somewhere near a normal frequency and she cradled him, weak and heavy in her arms.
Eventually, he lifted his head out of the crook of her elbow and looked up at her. Broken capillaries webbed across his cheeks like crazy paving. His hair was lank and lifeless. He seemed paler than the moon he had been the victim of. And his voice, when it came, was like cinders. “You’ve c-caught me at rather a bad time…”
The smile he tried to give her was parched, like a piece of toast burnt at the edges. She smiled for him. “You looked like you needed someone…”
He nodded, blinking away dryness from his eyes. “I need to move,” he grated. “Or I’ll seize up.”
She took his hand and helped him to his feet, and taking uneasy steps with stiff, jerking legs he stumbled towards the bed. He almost fell to the mattress and rolled onto his side. She scooped up the duvet from the floor near the fire and covered him. “Do you want me to stay?” she asked, hesitation in her voice.
“If, if, if you… if you can take it…” he stammered.
She took off her clothes and crawled beneath the duvet, pressing her chest up against his back, arcing her arm over his side to rub it through the thin hair on his chest. He sighed at her touch, whispering, “Did you sleep?”
“Not really…” She traced a pattern on his skin. “But I’ve always slept badly around the full moon.”
He chuckled and it sounded like sandpaper rubbed over wood. “A bit… a bit of the wolf in you then, too…”
“Perhaps…” She paused, wondering whether to ask the question that was on her lips. “Do you remember what happened earlier?”
“Remember what?”
“When you were changed…”
She felt him shake his head. “I don’t remember anything… I never do…” He sighed. “That’s what’s so awful… when you wake up in the morning and you have no idea what horrors you’ve done.” Hesitation punctuated his speech. “Why? What did I do? You… you weren’t in here, were you?” His voice was panicky, grating and he turned over to face her.
She smiled faintly. “You didn’t do anything, Remus… Everything went just like it should.” Her smile broadened and she reached up to touch his cheek. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“But something happened, didn’t it?” he asked.
Nodding, Tonks swallowed. “I came in and,” she ignored his immediate objection, “and you recognised me… You slept in my lap.”
Lupin was stunned into momentary silence. “I slept in your lap?” he repeated.
She nodded. “For nearly an hour…”
“Merlin, Dora… do you have any idea how dangerous…”
“You were quite gentle,” she interrupted, smiling at him. “I stroked your face… Like this…” Reaching up, she ran the back of her fingers along his cheekbone. He pressed his face into her touch, and she was reminded of the wolf performing the very same action just an hour ago.
“I can’t believe you did that…” His voice was flooded with amazement. “And I can’t believe I didn’t hurt you…”
“I told you… you recognised me. You kept smelling me…”
“Nobody human has ever been with me… nobody’s ever seen that…” he murmured.
“Then I suppose it’s been a night of firsts for both of us.”
He smiled at that. “First moon together…”
“First moon of many,” she added. He regarded her with intense eyes, then touched her lips with his.
He was more insistent than she expected and she felt a raw intensity in his movements. Lips pressed heavily against hers. His hands slipped from her shoulder to her breast and then her hip in a movement so natural, so fluid, Tonks hardly noticed. She felt him push her to her back and then his weight settled against her, confident she would support him. His forehead pressed against hers. “I want you…” he whispered. His breath was warm against her cheek. “I need you, Dora…”
And she recognised that need in him, the need to be reminded of her touch, her feel.
She opened herself up and drank him in. Her hands were on him, scant inches from intimacy. She moved them, touched him. She heard his immediate response, felt it in her fingertips and she smiled against his kisses, arching her back like a cat in the sun.
After a moment, she tugged him upwards, and let him sink into her. A soft sound of pleasure oozed out of his mouth like a dribble of honey and then they were moving.
For the most part, she lay nearly still, let him take the lead; let him guide her hands to avoid the still painful areas. And though he was steadier than usual, perhaps a touch more awkward in his movement, she very quickly felt her own pleasure building and then it surged through her in waves of flowing current. Her cry echoed around the room, and seconds later, his joined it.
Her arms closed around him as the pressure dissipated, and she rolled him onto his side, drawing her body in shadow along his. He sighed as her breath tickled the hairs on the back of his neck and before the sun penetrated the room completely, he slept in her mild embrace.
The End.
Summary: Tonks experiences Remus the Werewolf for the first time.
First Moon
Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this
is what it is like or what it is like in words.
- Words, Wide Night by Carol Ann Duffy -
The Burrow was a friendly place to be. And tonight, it was humming with activity and conversation. Harry’s seventeenth birthday was a milestone everyone had felt it was important to celebrate, made even more important by the funeral they had all attended just three weeks previously.
Naturally, Molly Weasley had put on a great show and for the first time in weeks, the look of burden on Harry’s face had been replaced by a smile. Most of the Order had been invited - save one - and many of Harry’s Hogwarts friends, but now they were all leaving, out into the mists of a fading summer’s night. Nymphadora Tonks had spent the best hours of the evening sitting on the lawn outside, talking with Kingsley, Moody and occasionally, some of the children.
But a little after ten, when the light had all but faded, she had retreated back inside, finding the empty sofa a perfect place to sit and disappear.
“Is this seat taken?”
She had just rested her head back and closed her eyes when a familiar voice whispered hotly in her ear. Tonks’ face split into a grin that was almost too big for her face and she twisted around. He was standing behind the sofa, hands in pockets, looking tall and thin in clothes that were too big for his frame. But, despite this, the skin around his eyes was creased, highlighting a genuine smile. “That depends on who’s asking?” she teased. He moved around the arm of the sofa and folded his gangly frame into the space next to her, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her up tight to him. “You look tired…” she murmured as she nestled into his chest, breathing deep of his comforting scent.
“Two days to go,” he replied, wryly, and she felt him take a breath in and hold it for a lengthy few seconds.
She frowned and looked up at him. “I’d forgotten…”
“That’s alright… I didn’t expect you to be counting down the days.” He smiled, but it was like a tear in paper. “Not like I do, at any rate.”
A pause, and then she sighed. The truth was she had been counting down the days in her own way, thinking ahead to the inevitable first full moon from the night they had first shared a bed. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”
He swallowed and she heard it. “Dora, you know it’s foolish…”
“But it’s what I want,” she said, twisting in his arms so she could lean on his chest and look him straight in the eyes. They were troubled.
“I can’t let you do it. It’s too dangerous.”
“You’ll have taken your potion…”
He shook his head almost imperceptively. “But Snape isn’t here to make it anymore… and…” A sigh crept out of his mouth, like a rush of air from a punctured balloon. “It isn’t the same as it used to be. I still end up more wolf than man.”
“But you wouldn’t hurt me…”
“I can’t be sure, Dora, and I’m not willing to take the risk.” He stroked her hair, picking up a loose tendril and pulling it gently through his fingers. “So you must stay away…” His eyes fixed on hers. “It’s imperative.”
She looked away. “I want to be with you…”
“You can… just on the other side of the door.”
Tonks started to object again, but he silenced her with a kiss. “Please, just do this for me, Dora,” he pleaded against her mouth.
“Now then, you two lovebirds!”
It was Arthur Weasley, a glass of mulberry wine in his hand, and as drunk as a proverbial lord. Lupin and Tonks looked up together and Arthur chuckled, “There you are!” he announced, raising his glass in the air and spilling a little over the side. “You’re even moving as one now!”
Lupin smiled at him. “Arthur,” he greeted. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m good, too good…” The chuckle came again, this time accompanied by an unexpected stumble. Instinctively, Lupin’s hand shot out to grab him, but Arthur managed to right himself. “And I can see you’re good too!” Lupin looked at Tonks, who smiled at him acidly.
He rose out his seat, and gently directed Arthur away. Glancing back at Tonks, he added, “I’ll see you Friday night, then…?” She nodded. He leaned in and pressed a kiss onto her lips, but she did not return it. “Half past six, outside Featherstone’s?” Again, another nod. “Don’t be angry with me, Dora…” he said, as he bullied Arthur out of the door.
Tonks watched him leave, then closed her eyes and sighed.
***
Friday arrived quicker than she had ever thought it could and she reflected with a degree of bitterness that it was true what was said about time passing faster when all you wanted it to do was slow down.
She glanced at her reflection in the windows of the shops she passed as she walked, watching as a stranger stared back at her in alien black trousers, embroidered top and beaded necklace. She’d paid particular attention to her hair, but whatever she had done to it tonight, long, short, curls, straight, punky… nothing had seemed right.
Tonight everything seemed like she was seeing it warped.
The white-painted building of Featherstone’s loomed in front of her like an iceberg in a millpond sea. Its tall glass windows were lit already with blue-white light, strung with teardrop-shaped baubles and bore the shadows of its diners, intimate with heads pushed together.
He was pacing a few repeated feet, like a pendulum, immediately in front of the main entrance, his black overcoat flapping around his legs. Tonks was suddenly overcome by a storm surge of love for him and allowed herself the brief flash of childishness of skipping up to him and enveloping him from behind in an all-consuming embrace. “Hi,” she breathed into his ear, and he spun around in her arms and kissed her.
“Hi, yourself…”
He held her back from him. “You look stunning.” His brown eyes sparkled.
She dropped her head coyly and thanked him. He proffered his elbow and she took it. He led her through the swinging doors and into the foyer. The roof was glass and above them, fair-weather clouds hung in the still blue sky. A blonde-haired witch slipped soundlessly from nowhere and took his coat, then guided them across the white tiled floor to a table by the far wall.
They sat, he ordered champagne, and the witch disappeared.
In the light of the candles fluttering between them, he looked pale and fragile, bags under his eyes big enough to stow a week’s worth of luggage and a new gauntness to the angles of his face. She tried not to show her concern, but it seemed he had grown perceptive to the tiny changes in her facial expressions. “I know,” he bobbed his eyebrows. “I look like death warmed up.”
She frowned and reached across the table for his hand.
He allowed her to take it and rub it silently between her fingers. “But you’ll get used to it…” he smiled wryly.
“Is it always this bad?” she found herself asking.
Lupin shrugged his shoulders. The blonde-haired witch returned and placed an ice-bucket on a silver tripod to the side of the table, popped the cork on a green glass bottle of champagne and sank it into the bucket. She threaded two black dragonhide menus between them and departed as silently as she had arrived. “It’s different every time…” he said in a low voice that sounded like a confession from a secret past. “It’s worse some months than others…”
She gazed at him, but did not speak. He continued, “When I was younger, and still growing, the worst part was the transformation itself… now it’s the aftermath. These days, when the moon goes down, it can take hours before I can even move, days before I loose the shake in my hands.”
“Remus, I had no idea…” Her voice was like a shard of a broken glass.
He smiled gently. “Why would you?” He reached out and cupped her face in his hand. She pushed her cheek into his touch. For a long moment, he was silent.
“I’m sorry, I’m not very good company tonight,” he murmured finally. “I don’t mean to be distracted.” He smiled and it glimmered around his eyes like the seduction he had only half a mind to pursue. The other half was on something completely different.
She snagged the champagne bottle by the neck and filled both their glasses. He watched as the fizz funnelled up the side of the glass, threatening to spill over, then just as quickly, retreating. “Then let’s talk about something else…” she smiled at him.
He nodded thankfully, plucked up the glass from the table and clinked it gently against the rim of her own.
***
The rest of the evening passed without mention of what would happen when the moon rose, but despite their best tactics of avoidance, it still stuck between them like a stretch of No-Man’s Land.
They left a little before nine, just as the sun was beginning to sink in the sky and the clouds of night were starting to gather on the horizon. There was time to walk back, he told her, and took her hand in his, holding onto her like an anchor. They both tried to talk about other things, but before long, the conversation grounded.
“Let me stay with you,” she whispered as he lit candles in his room and pulled the duvet and blanket from the bed, pooling them on the floor by the hearth.
“Dora, no…” he told her firmly. He drew the curtains almost completely closed, save a small gap through which it was possible to see the sky and the roof gardens of the houses opposite, then undressed slowly and methodically.
Turning around, he fixed her with a definite look, seeing the flash of defiance in her eyes. “But I want to… I can cope if you’re not… if you’re not you… I’ll get out.”
She went to him and pressed her palms against his chest. He felt the hairs on his chest prickle from her touch. “I’ve got my wand,” she affirmed.
“No… It’s too dangerous.” His eye drifted to the gap in the curtains. The sun was just a burning orange halo dipping behind the rooftops, and the sky was painted a hypnotic graded blue. A clear night was in store. “You can wait outside. I’ve charmed the door to lock when you leave and when I open it again you’ll know it’s safe to come in.” He smiled slightly. “I’d like to see you in the morning.”
She smiled back at him then, knowing what that little phrase was code for. “I thought you said you were worse afterwards…?”
“It’d be nice to feel your arms around me…”
She kissed him, like gossamer against his lips. He closed his eyes and fell into the kiss, reaching up to cradle her face. His breath brushed across her cheek as he pressed his nose into her neck and nuzzled the warm, velvet skin there.
He lifted his head and looked once again to the window. The sky was the colour of the bottom of a mountain lake.
He swallowed, and bent to kiss her again, tasting the arousal on her lips. She was soft and pliant against him as he squeezed her tightly, sighing low.
Then, for the briefest of moments, Lupin felt his consciousness flutter.
Like a diver desperate for oxygen, he gasped and it echoed around the still and silent room. The first beginnings of the burning started deep in his bones, and he pushed her away from him. His eyes widened as the shivers started to take over. “Get out, Dora…” he managed to wheeze. She did not move; fear had frosted her over. Frantically, he motioned for her to hurry, finally reaching out and pushing her roughly towards the door. “You have to get out…! Go!”
***
Frightened by his push, Tonks stumbled backwards hurriedly, unable to tear her eyes away from him. The shivering had become shaking and a deep moan was wracking out of his lungs, like it was being wrenched from the depths of his gut. His eyes were amber and glowing like coals fallen from the fire. She stepped backwards and reached for the door handle behind her, turning it in hands that were suddenly slippery with sweat.
Lupin was changing now. Bones were lengthening, skin splitting and darkening. She turned and grabbed the door handle, yanking it and fleeing out of the room.
In the silence and darkness of the corridor, there was a slide and click and the door locked. She heard his cry reach a pitch, then ebb away. Frozen to the spot, she listened like a deer at the door, crouched slightly and tensed. There was a thud, then a soft whimper, sounding like the cry of a pup for its mother. A few scratches on wood followed, then another thump, and finally, the howl of the werewolf surged out in a crescendo.
Tonks jumped backwards; she couldn’t help herself, and drew in a sharp breath. Silence fell then, like a fog, over the corridor. She listened intently for any sounds of him moving around, but there was nothing. Perhaps he had settled himself in the bed of blankets he had laid on the floor. Feeling her initial burst of adrenalin abating, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms and leaned back against the banister railing. She sank slowly to the floor to begin her vigil.
Sometime later, she woke from a vague slumber and listened again. Darkness lay thickly around her and the house was silent as a tombstone. Her eyes were drawn to the door in front of her and for a long moment, she stared at its heavy oak mass. No sound came from within, not even a scratch or a rush of breathing. Contemplating, she realised that she was tempted to open the door and look beyond it, into the room she knew the wolf was still occupying.
She kneeled up and leaned forward, listening again. Still nothing. In the hallway below, the grandfather clock chimed three and overcome by rash bravery, Tonks took out her wand and muttered an incantation known only to aurors. The handle that had been charmed by Lupin earlier turned of its own accord and with a gentle push, she peered through the tiniest gap.
There was nothing in the room, and her heart took off around her ribcage like a hundred metre sprinter, even though she knew there was no way to breach the magical defences Lupin laid around the room; the wolf was trapped within, whether it liked it or not. Her eyes scanned the floor, checking the bundle of bedding in front of the hearth, then the bed itself. Suddenly, and as unexpected as a mugger, a wet snuffling and hot breath rushed over her face.
She nearly screamed, but stopped herself at the last moment. The wolf’s face was inches from her own, breathing damply and sniffing. Blazing amber eyes stared straight at her. It sniffed again. Tonks scrunched her eyes closed and willed herself to get out, but quickly discovered that her magic was as inert as she was.
Then, quite abruptly, the hot breath disappeared. She opened her eyes and saw that the wolf had moved away. It was backing over to the furthest corner of the room, as if inviting her to come further in. A look she had seen before danced across its features…
Remus.
Tonks started at the realisation. Against all rational judgement, she opened the door further and stepped inside, moving as smoothly and obviously as she could. The wolf continued to look at her.
And she stared back. For moments briefer than snowflakes, Lupin’s personality had risen to the fore and his consciousness had greeted her. Then it had sunk back into the mire of otherness and had quickly returned to that state she did not recognise.
A warning growl momentarily punctuated the silence and she halted in the doorway. There was nothing between her and the wolf now, just a half a dozen paces, perhaps less. Amber eyes glinted lamp-like in the darkness, but it did not move. She could hear it breathing, low and steady, and tried to calm her own breaths to the same rhythm.
She took a step towards it and it mirrored her movement, lifting its nose slightly, tasting her scent on the air.
The look was back in the wolf’s eyes. Tonks felt a growing desire to reach out and touch the coarse fur that covered the back of its neck. But instead, she straightened her shoulders and forced her gaze to meet the glowing yellow eyes.
But she was sure. For the briefest of seconds, she was sure that she had sensed something beyond the wolf in those eyes. It had been like a flash of lightning or a spark of electricity, but it had been there. It was unmistakable.
He had always been unmistakable.
She flitted her gaze away from the wolf’s insightful, watchful stare. It was unnerving, and she couldn’t stop her heart from hammering urgently in her chest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was studying her. It took another step towards her.
Slowly, its nostrils flared again and she heard it take in a series of staccato breaths.
That same look again… this time accompanied by a flecking of hazel around the wolf’s irises. She was so close now she could feel its hot breath blowing across her skin.
The room was utterly silent, yet Tonks felt as if there was screaming in her ears so loud it would surely wake the entire house. She took a breath in, faltering and uncertain, feeling the hair on the back of her neck bristle and rise.
“Remus?” His name was onto her lips and into the air before she could stop it. “Remus, can you hear me?”
Tonks hesitated. She didn’t know to which one of them she was speaking. And she needed to know, desperately. She scanned the wolf’s face. Fear had made her question sound weak, pathetic.
For a long moment, the wolf did not move, then slowly, it turned and stalked to the back of the room and sat down on its haunches a distance away from her. It looked at her in an expectant manner, its body perfectly still.
Tonks remained motionless, but gradually, her courage built, and she sidled further into the room, towards the stool in front of the ancient desk he worked at. Deliberately, she sat down and crossed her legs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.
The wolf remained statue-like in front of the window.
“Remus?” she murmured again. The wolf’s stare did not waver. “Remus, if you can hear me, lay down…”
Seconds past, then, like a wire coat hanger being folded on itself, the wolf laid itself down on the wooden floor, its chin resting on its right foreleg, eyes peering orangely up at her.
“Merlin…” her exclamation escaped on a breath of wonderment.
That movement, that response had been too much, too close to the real thing; the understanding behind it had been too genuinely rendered. She met the burning eyes in front of her. “You can hear me, can’t you?” she murmured. “You can understand me?” She felt like she was on her hands and knees, scrabbling around in the dark.
The wolf made not a move.
Tonks held out her hand, palm upwards, like her mother had taught her to do when approaching strange dogs in the street. The wolf smelled the air again.
Then, quite suddenly, it climbed gauntly to its feet and moved towards her. It stopped just out of reach, then leaned forward, sniffing her hand. Tonks felt her heart pitch into her throat. A wet, vaguely slimy nose touched her outstretched fingers, leaving coldness in its wake. Her breath stuttered out.
Another step, and its face was pressed against her palm and she could feel the roughness of its fur, whiskery and like wires. There was warmth behind the bristles, and a movement of a swallowing reflex. The wolf’s eyes drifted up to hers again and this time, she knew it.
Lupin’s personality rushed over her like a wave and she couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face. “Hi…” she murmured.
Those eyes were the same ones that had looked at her a thousand times and Tonks knew that it was him, knew that she recognised what was reflected in them.
She felt its head move slightly and then press more insistently against her palm. Relief flooded over her and she brought both hands to the wolf’s head, cradled it and stroked the coarse fur around the ears. It closed its eyes and sank to its haunches. She followed suit, then crossed her legs and waited while it adjusted its position so it could lay and rest its head in her lap. “It’s nice to feel you,” she whispered, echoing his words from earlier, and let her head fall back against the wall, a smile on her lips.
They stayed that way for an hour or more. The wolf slept for a while, but just as she began to hear the first notes of the dawn chorus begin to sound out across the city, it lifted its head and climbed suddenly to its feet, its claws scrabbling hurriedly on the floor. A growl rumbled out of its throat. Tonks frowned, and fear thumped once again around her body. It backed up, away from her, and she noticed that the amber eyes were growing darker with every second.
She glanced out of the window and saw that the light was gathering in the sky, casting milky rays across the world. She climbed to her feet, edging along the wall towards the door; he was about to transform and she was gripped by a realisation that she had no idea what to expect. The books she had read as part of her training had talked about the transformation from man to wolf, but never the reverse. She knew she should probably leave and give him the privacy of aloneness, but once again, found her curiosity turning her feet to lead weights.
The wolf’s back was arching and the hairs along its spine were rising like the prickles of an angry porcupine. Its head was rolling, eyes unfocused and white foam dripped from its open mouth. The growl had grown louder and higher and was becoming a wallowing cry of pain. Ears pinned back against its head, it fell to the floor as if it had been dealt a mortal blow and began to shake uncontrollably.
Tonks stifled a cry as she heard bones crack and reform. She heard something in the back of his throat that sounded like splintering oak. His newly-formed fingers curled and reached. His head tipped back. Muscles and sinews in his neck corded. Lupin breathed hard, as if he was atop a mountain and could not find sufficient air to breathe. The hair began to withdraw into his skin, leaving behind a red rawness that seemed angry and violent; and steadily, human features replaced lupine ones.
Gradually, the shaking lessened, and then stopped, but he seemed unconscious. Sweat gleamed along his back like the sheen on mercury. He was breathing shallow, aching breaths as if he’d just run for his life from a terrible foe.
Without thinking, Tonks rushed to where he lay and kneeled down beside him. She laid her palm against his cheek as if she were touching the most fragile of porcelain sculptures. She brushed the damp hair from his forehead, touched his taut throat.
Like a newborn taking its first breath, Lupin gasped awake, the surge of air squeaking in his windpipe. He opened glazed eyes and looked up at her in disbelief. He tried to speak, but she shushed him quiet and drew him next to her. Curling against her awkwardly, he hid his face in her lap.
“Oh, Remus…” she sighed, and stroked his hair back from his face.
They were quiet then for a long time, while his breathing returned to somewhere near a normal frequency and she cradled him, weak and heavy in her arms.
Eventually, he lifted his head out of the crook of her elbow and looked up at her. Broken capillaries webbed across his cheeks like crazy paving. His hair was lank and lifeless. He seemed paler than the moon he had been the victim of. And his voice, when it came, was like cinders. “You’ve c-caught me at rather a bad time…”
The smile he tried to give her was parched, like a piece of toast burnt at the edges. She smiled for him. “You looked like you needed someone…”
He nodded, blinking away dryness from his eyes. “I need to move,” he grated. “Or I’ll seize up.”
She took his hand and helped him to his feet, and taking uneasy steps with stiff, jerking legs he stumbled towards the bed. He almost fell to the mattress and rolled onto his side. She scooped up the duvet from the floor near the fire and covered him. “Do you want me to stay?” she asked, hesitation in her voice.
“If, if, if you… if you can take it…” he stammered.
She took off her clothes and crawled beneath the duvet, pressing her chest up against his back, arcing her arm over his side to rub it through the thin hair on his chest. He sighed at her touch, whispering, “Did you sleep?”
“Not really…” She traced a pattern on his skin. “But I’ve always slept badly around the full moon.”
He chuckled and it sounded like sandpaper rubbed over wood. “A bit… a bit of the wolf in you then, too…”
“Perhaps…” She paused, wondering whether to ask the question that was on her lips. “Do you remember what happened earlier?”
“Remember what?”
“When you were changed…”
She felt him shake his head. “I don’t remember anything… I never do…” He sighed. “That’s what’s so awful… when you wake up in the morning and you have no idea what horrors you’ve done.” Hesitation punctuated his speech. “Why? What did I do? You… you weren’t in here, were you?” His voice was panicky, grating and he turned over to face her.
She smiled faintly. “You didn’t do anything, Remus… Everything went just like it should.” Her smile broadened and she reached up to touch his cheek. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“But something happened, didn’t it?” he asked.
Nodding, Tonks swallowed. “I came in and,” she ignored his immediate objection, “and you recognised me… You slept in my lap.”
Lupin was stunned into momentary silence. “I slept in your lap?” he repeated.
She nodded. “For nearly an hour…”
“Merlin, Dora… do you have any idea how dangerous…”
“You were quite gentle,” she interrupted, smiling at him. “I stroked your face… Like this…” Reaching up, she ran the back of her fingers along his cheekbone. He pressed his face into her touch, and she was reminded of the wolf performing the very same action just an hour ago.
“I can’t believe you did that…” His voice was flooded with amazement. “And I can’t believe I didn’t hurt you…”
“I told you… you recognised me. You kept smelling me…”
“Nobody human has ever been with me… nobody’s ever seen that…” he murmured.
“Then I suppose it’s been a night of firsts for both of us.”
He smiled at that. “First moon together…”
“First moon of many,” she added. He regarded her with intense eyes, then touched her lips with his.
He was more insistent than she expected and she felt a raw intensity in his movements. Lips pressed heavily against hers. His hands slipped from her shoulder to her breast and then her hip in a movement so natural, so fluid, Tonks hardly noticed. She felt him push her to her back and then his weight settled against her, confident she would support him. His forehead pressed against hers. “I want you…” he whispered. His breath was warm against her cheek. “I need you, Dora…”
And she recognised that need in him, the need to be reminded of her touch, her feel.
She opened herself up and drank him in. Her hands were on him, scant inches from intimacy. She moved them, touched him. She heard his immediate response, felt it in her fingertips and she smiled against his kisses, arching her back like a cat in the sun.
After a moment, she tugged him upwards, and let him sink into her. A soft sound of pleasure oozed out of his mouth like a dribble of honey and then they were moving.
For the most part, she lay nearly still, let him take the lead; let him guide her hands to avoid the still painful areas. And though he was steadier than usual, perhaps a touch more awkward in his movement, she very quickly felt her own pleasure building and then it surged through her in waves of flowing current. Her cry echoed around the room, and seconds later, his joined it.
Her arms closed around him as the pressure dissipated, and she rolled him onto his side, drawing her body in shadow along his. He sighed as her breath tickled the hairs on the back of his neck and before the sun penetrated the room completely, he slept in her mild embrace.
The End.