Had We Never Loved So Blindly

Had We Never Loved So Blindly
by MahsaFF

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Chapter 6

With a faint pop, Tonks appeared in the narrow alleyway that was her usual Apparition point for Grimmauld Place. Emerging from the passage between a busy pub and an equally busy Chinese take-away, she shaded her eyes and frowned at the sunlight slanting across the pavement. Her arrival here was a frustrating hour later than she'd planned, the result of losing a coin toss with Ann to decide who would write up the report on their day's work, an exercise in complete futility. The day's work, that is, although the same could be said of both the report and the coin toss. She made a mental note to use one of her own knuts next time.

The sun was still well up over the horizon, though, and she hoped she might manage an hour or more with Remus before moonrise. Thanks to the lengthening spring days, this was the first time she'd been able to get away from work in time to see him before his transformation. Tonks wondered if she'd find him noticeably different. Once, when pressed, Remus had admitted to feeling a bit ill and tired in the hours before the change, but coming from him that could mean anything from being slightly under the weather to knocking at Death's door.

Rounding the corner, Tonks crossed the street to the small park the centre of Grimmauld Place. Despite her rush, Tonks paused briefly to enjoy the sights and scents that this patch of greenery in the middle of London offered: trees in full leaf, the sharp odour of freshly rolled turf, and a few late tulips nodding above the damp earth.

Although she'd grown up in nearby Hampstead, only a few miles from the Ministry, Tonks hadn't come to know the city well until she'd entered Auror training a few years ago. Her mother had always regarded coming up to town--more specifically, up to Diagon Alley--with something akin to horror. Her considerable energy was directed instead at fitting in seamlessly with their Muggle neighbours and avoiding Wizarding society as far as possible. According to Dad, this had been her firm policy from the day she'd eloped with him more than thirty years before.

Tonk's rare expeditions to the city as a child had come in late summer to purchase school supplies, and London in August was a sticky, unpleasant place to say the least. Until a few years ago, town had meant nothing more to her than traffic and petrol fumes, dog droppings and pigeon shit, suffocating waves of heat rising from the tarmac, sweet wrappers adhering stubbornly to trainer soles, and a dozen kerbs to trip over as her mother chivvied her from the tube station to Leaky Cauldron to Diagon Alley and back, all the while looking nervously over her shoulder.

Crossing out of the park towards Number Twelve, Tonks almost collided with a heavy-set Muggle in a business suit who sidestepped her with surprising nimbleness. He gave her billowing scarlet robes a disapproving once-over before striding away in the direction Tonks had come, possibly heading for the pub and a fortifying drink. Calling out a chipper "Sorry!" after him, Tonks pulled her Auror robes closer about her as gusts plucked at them playfully.

Muggles, thought Tonks, shaking her head. So many reacted with suspicion towards anything that didn't fit into their conception of an orderly society, even something as innocuous as red robes. And the thing was, she took enormous pride not only in her job but in her uniform as well. It was eye-catching, to be sure, but Aurors tended to be a flamboyant, even arrogant breed. The robes proclaimed boldly to the world--to the Magical world at least--exactly what she stood for and who she was: a trained soldier in the fight against the Dark Arts. The very clothes that garnered her such respect in the Wizarding community had quite the opposite effect on Muggles, it seemed. To be fair, Muggle clothes weren't looked upon with universal favour by wizards either; she recalled with a grin the arched eyebrow that Minerva had recently given her favourite ensemble of ripped jeans and lime-green jumper.

With a dismissive shrug at the inconsistencies of the universe, Tonks bounded up the front steps and let herself into the old house, pausing in the entryway to let her eyes adjust after the outdoor brightness. Unidentified male voices and laughter filtered through the open door of the library, and she wondered vaguely who they belonged to. Could be anyone, as so many in the Order made a point of gathering for Molly's regular Friday suppers.

She tiptoed down the hall past Mrs Black's portrait, giving the umbrella stand a wide berth. Her plan was to head directly upstairs to flirt with Remus, entertain him with the story of her day, and generally give him a lift. No doubt his had been a dreary afternoon; she gathered that he often spent the day leading up to his transformation resting quietly. Afterwards, there might be enough time to cadge a bite to eat from Molly before picking up the reports that awaited her and heading over to Kingsley's flat for a thrilling evening of paperwork.

At one time she'd expected rather more glamour in working for the Order of the Phoenix--plotting and subterfuge, thrilling escapes, dramatic rescues, tense duels with Death Eaters, and the like. But aside from the attack on poor Arthur and a few other incidents, unending routine was the norm, unless you made a point of listening to Mad-Eye. He had a tendency to collar anyone who wasn't quick enough and predict dire consequences for those practising less-than-constant vigilance

Constant boredom, more like. Still, one could dream.

As she neared the library door, Tonks recognised Sirius's boisterous tone. There was something familiar in the other man's laugh, but she couldn't place it. Bill, perhaps? Remus would be pleased to know that someone was keeping Sirius busy, at any rate. Sirius was raising his voice now, speaking over the laughter.

"--wasn't too bad. Only set me some lines. I think it was, 'I must not steal Bludgers and release them in the staff common room.' And even then I'm not sure I--"

With a start, Tonks realised that the other man, the one laughing at Sirius's anecdote, was not Bill, but... Remus. Laughing! Not a small, polite chuckle. Not a companionable huff or a muffled snort. But a loud and quite unrestrained laugh.

The opportunity to eavesdrop on such a rare, unguarded moment, and one so full of mirth, was more than she was capable of resisting.

She felt a deep curiosity about everything to do with Remus: what he said, what he thought, how he occupied himself when she wasn't with him. Her need to know him was every bit as intense as his own desire for obscurity. Indeed, it embarrassed her to dwell on the extent of it. He was her first thought in the morning, the last thing running through her head each night. She was, as Ann had kindly pointed out that afternoon, smitten.

Peeking through the hinges of the door, Tonks spied Sirius grinning cheerfully. His arm was thrown across the seat back and a glass of amber liquid sloshed in his hand. His feet rested on the table in front of him, which was littered with empty plates, soiled serviettes, and half a dozen screwed up pieces of parchment.

But what drew her attention was this other man. This unknown... Remus, sprawled quite as sloppily as Sirius, and laughing so hard that he seemed to be gripping the arm of the settee so as not to slide off. She’d never seen anything like it, not in the almost-year she'd known him, and it was impossible not to be entirely captivated. She smiled through the narrow crack at this view, while her heart seemed to expand in her chest until there was no room left to breathe.

At the same time, she couldn't prevent a smoky tendril of envy from curling round her vitals as well, that it was Sirius sharing this moment with Remus rather than herself. However, as soon as she became conscious of this uncharitable feeling, she fell back on the ingrained habit of every Hufflepuff: Pushed it aside as being unworthy of the person she knew herself to be--the loyal and generous person she knew herself to be--and instead focused on being grateful to Sirius for the good he was obviously doing Remus. For the good they were obviously doing each other.

Tonks wanted nothing more than to stand where she was and continue watching and listening, perhaps to pick up a few tips on how to crack open Remus's shell so thoroughly, but it seemed dishonourable to lurk. Firmly quashing temptation, she impelled herself around the door and straight through it before she could change her mind, only to come to an awkward halt when two faces, two grinning, gleeful, almost... boyish faces, turned simultaneously in her direction.

The silence stretched to a few seconds, and then a few seconds more. She realised that she must look incredibly stupid standing there goggling at them from the doorway.

She became aware that Remus was offering her a welcoming smile. Or not really a smile, more a hint of a crinkle about his eyes. But it was hers, intended for her alone. Her heart swelled once more, leaving her feeling rather tingly. She managed a "Wotcher" and, recollecting Sirius, turned to include him in her greeting.

Sirius gave a knowing smirk. "Don't gawp, Tonks. Come and sit." He patted the cushion beside him, saying, "I could do with more attractive company after putting up with this sorry specimen all afternoon."


She walked towards the settee, feeling unaccountably shy at intruding. Their relaxed postures and evident enjoyment of each others' company again filled her with... Well. She decided to call it wistfulness.


As she approached, Remus pushed himself up from his seat to stand beside her. Perhaps because it was only Sirius in the room, he moved closer to her than he normally would have, so close that Tonks sensed the heat of his body and the coiled tension that never seemed to leave him completely. The finger's breadth of air that remained between them crackled, as always, with unspoken attraction.


"Hello, Tonks," Remus said in his slightly hoarse voice. She could feel his breath tickle across her hair.

With a quick glance at the door, Remus put his hand to her elbow in a friendly gesture, but he kept hold of her arm long enough to let his thumb brush a line down the soft skin of her inner arm. She caught her breath as her pulse leapt. She'd long since given up wondering over this, the intensity of her reaction to his simplest touch, how even this slight contact was inexplicably erotic. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck prickled in response, and she suppressed a shiver. When his hand left her, she longed for its warmth again immediately.

Taking what she hoped was an unobtrusive breath, Tonks looked away to resist the urge to behave like a shameless tart in front of Sirius. If Remus was resisting similar urges, he hid them as impeccably as ever. Not that she expected any kind of public embrace, even when the only "public" within shouting distance was his Sirius.


Through the rush of her own heart beating in her ears, she heard Remus remark, "I thought I heard you come in a minute ago." There was a hint of teasing in his voice.


She grinned uncertainly at this, torn between delight that he had been listening for her to arrive and chagrin that he might have detected her tarrying in the hallway. She offered Remus a sheepish sidelong glance and a one-shouldered shrug. His lips twitched in amusement.

Sirius, heir to the Noble and Ancient etc., had continued his ungentlemanly lounging during this exhibition of soppiness. He now coughed pointedly to recall Tonks to the real world, herein represented by The Library, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. Sirius's legs still rested on the low table and between them, she noticed, a serrated knife was stuck point down into the wood. Strange. Perhaps he'd taken up mumblety peg to wile away the time? Probably best not to ask.

Giving Sirius a somewhat abashed smile of greeting for a second time, Tonks perched on the arm of the settee. She put her booted feet on the dingy olive-green cushion as Remus settled next to her. With a pang of concern, Tonks observed the way he levered himself down with the stiff caution of an old man instead of the grace she had come to associate with his movements. She looked him over carefully. He hadn't shaved; his cheeks and chin were dotted with golden stubble. At close range, she could see fine lines of fatigue around his mouth and eyes, and this morning's dark smudges were still in evidence.


"You're tired, Remus," she observed hesitantly. Ignoring the tiny warning beacon that had started blinking in her head, her hand came up as if to brush the hair back from his face. "Shouldn't you--"


She froze when he shied ever so slightly away from her fingers. Keeping her face as expressionless as possible, Tonks lowered her hand back into her lap looking anywhere but at Remus.

“Aw, let her do it, grumpy. And she's right, you know, you look like a dog's breakfast," Sirius grunted, probably under the impression that he was helping. Because he'd noticed. Of course he had. Somehow he noticed everything inconvenient. It was only things like the washing up that went over his head.


Ignoring Sirius's implicit invitation, Tonks kept her hands obediently in her lap. Sirius reached out and rubbed the top of Remus's head himself, so vigorously that half of his hair stood on end. "There, that's better. Now you look exactly like... Ahhh, what's the name of that bloke, the mad arch-villain..."


"Voldemort?" Remus suggested, raising an eyebrow.


"No--"


"Grindelw--"


"No, cretin. You know, in Martin Miggs? Evil blighter who's always plotting to do the dirty on poor old Martin? Yellow hair sticking up in all directions like he caught the wrong end of a Lightning jinx--"


"Oh. Dare. Professor Dickory Dare, you mean," Remus said complacently, his voice tinged with humour. "Experimental physicist and international arms dealer."


Tonks turned to stare at him.

"That's it!" Sirius exclaimed. "Got it in one. Well, in two. Or three. You're the spitting image. Only his hair wasn't full of grey."


"Probably because his nemesis wasn't quite so hard on him as mine is," Remus returned with a meaning look.

Sirius turned to Tonks, who was still gazing at Remus with something approaching astonishment.

"I note your girlish puzzlement, Tonks," said Sirius courteously. "Allow me to explain." He pursed his lips and tapped them with a contemplative finger. "Let me see... Hm. The wizard possessed of almost god-like magical prowess, that Remus Lupin you already know."


Sirius seemed to be waiting for an answer, so Tonks nodded in cautious agreement. This seemed to satisfy him, and he went on.


"You're also acquainted, I do believe, with Remus Lupin, the gallant lover possessed of almost god-like--" he caught a look from Remus. "Uh, the gallant lover."


She glanced to Remus, who rolled his eyes in an long-suffering way that clearly communicated, humour him. So she inclined her head again.


"But, my dear Tonks," Sirius drawled triumphantly, jerking a thumb in Remus's direction, "I'll wager that Remus Lupin, the literary connoisseur and noted expert on The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle--that's a new one on you. Eh? Until today, that is. Reveals all sorts of delightful, unplumbed, and hitherto unsuspected depths to your bloke's character, now, doesn't it?"


Tonks blinked--several times, in fact--and turned back to Remus with what was probably a fairly dazed expression.


"I brought a rather extensive collection of back issues with me in my trunk when I first came to Hogwarts," Remus explained. "And apparently, I'll never live it down."


Sirius knocked back the last of his ale and belched reminiscently. "Yeah, you'd hardly have believed it, Tonks. Back in first year, this boy--father to the man as they say--looked as if a breath of wind would knock him flat on his skinny arse. Not at all the strapping fellow who stands before you today. No brawn to him, true, but with a positively encyclopedic knowledge of the entire Miggs oeuvre stuffed into his pointy head. Brilliant stuff. There was Polly Pringle--remember her?--whenever she was in peril her skirt was drawn so you could..." He turned to Remus as a thought seemed to strike him. "Whatever happened to those comics, anyway? Least you could do is spare me a hundred or two to brighten my lonely hours."


"Burned them for fuel at some point, I expect. One long hard winter. You forget the abject poverty in which you found me before I was entreated to join you at your decadent family seat."

"And yet here you are, ensconced in luxury and still looking like shit. Want me to tell you what you need, Moony?” Sirius asked.


"Not really," Remus replied, smoothing down his sandy hair, presumably to lessen his resemblance to a mad scientist. "But I expect you will anyway."


"What you need," continued Sirius, ignoring him, "Is more time to relax. You're wound up. Anxious. Overworked." He swept a hand towards the piles of books and papers near the window that Tonks hadn't noticed before.


Remus huffed dismissively. "As are we all. With your usual talent for pointing out the blatantly obvious--"


"Oi! You're always complaining that my talent is for ignoring plain fact. Can't have it--"


"Both. Either. You're devious that way."


Sirius snorted in amused irritation. "You know I hate that. Use your own words. Plagiarising bastard."


"Mm."


Tonks's head had been going back and forth between them, watching this verbal volley. It would have been, should have been, rather entertaining, if only her brain wouldn't insist on dwelling on how readily Remus had let Sirius touch him after flinching away from her. And Sirius was being uncannily observant, today as always. She fervently hoped he hadn't seen that little flash of completely ridiculous... jealousy.


She gave herself a short but thorough mental pummelling and tried to join in the spirit of the conversation.

"Some people might be wound up and overworked, Sirius, but you look very relaxed," she observed, eyeing the way Sirius had spread himself across half the settee.


"Might be more chipper," Sirius grumbled, "if someone hadn't woken me at arse o'clock this morning."


"Mm. Same here," said Remus, eyes glinting.


"Just call me Tonks the human alarm clock," Tonks replied breezily. "Had to get up early to complete my extensive beauty routine, you know." She struck what she hoped was a sultry pose and batted her purple eyelashes. "Aside from which, couldn't be late for work. Crime never sleeps and all that."


"Beauty routine?" Sirius laughed in a rather uncomplimentary way. "Ugh. Be glad you weren't born a girl, Moony."


"Oh, I am," he replied. Tonks could feel warmth rising in her face. She bit her lips to hide a smile. That was more like it.


"Two minutes always does me," Sirius went on, ignoring the two of them as they avoided making eyes at each other. "Thirty seconds to pull on trousers and a shirt, the rest of the time to comb my hair, and I'm good to go."


Remus hummed a bit at this. "I recall overhearing some scuttlebutt at Hogwarts that you were two-minute man, but I hadn't understood it referred to hair combing. I may have done you an injustice, it seems, but I--"


"Bite me, Lupin."


"--I'd have estimated closer to twenty minutes for your grooming regimen, if you count charming the spots off your chin. And you forgot to factor in washing."


"Whiff of eau de Sirius never did anyone any harm," returned Sirius.


"Granted. I can even see how some might appreciate it as an early warning device."


They both snickered at this. Sirius muttered to Remus, "Now the gloves are coming off, mate" in a distinctly warning tone and with a mischievous flash in his eye. They looked as if they could be go on like this for hours if not distracted.


Tonks cleared her throat, distractingly. "Tell you a bit about my adventurous day, shall I?"

Remus always enjoyed the tales she told him about her work. Even before they had become... whatever they were now, he'd been a good audience, drinking in the stories of her trials and tribulations with the thirst of a man stranded in the desert. She sensed that he enjoyed the manner of her telling at least as much as the subject matter, so she always made the most of each scene, dramatising it to the hilt. Then, as now, his eyes would flicker from her face to her sweeping arm and back to her face. He watched her with much the same avidity as when she stripped herself bare in his bedroom.


In Sirius, she seemed to have found an equally enraptured listener. And why not? He was, almost literally, a captive audience in this house. And this had been one of the more entertaining episodes in the short but tumultuous career of Auror N. Tonks. Certainly better than the day she'd investigated a deserted property in Devon said to be the refuge of a colony of Red Caps. They'd turned out to be hedgehogs.


During her recital, both men put in a few words here and there as an encouragement to her to keep going, but overall they seemed content simply to listen. Their faces unconsciously echoed her expressions, widening their eyes and grimacing along with her. What was it that made them so hungry for all this silliness and farcical drama? Whatever the cause, Tonks was happy to give it. She'd been a performer from the time she could walk, if not before, and they seemed to relish it all.


"--and then I said something like, 'Oh, god, what d'you see?' and then Ann--I could absolutely kill her, because she answered--she said--" At the last minute Tonks realised that she couldn't tell them about seeing Kingsley without risking it getting back to him via Sirius, so she finished, "She said the name of another Auror I know well. Merlin! I practically died right there." She clasped a hand to her bosom and Sirius grinned. "I mean, it's one thing to look at anonymous bits, as it were, but quite another to..." she trailed off and smiled brightly, as Remus nodded his agreement of her point of view.

Tonks sighed theatrically and slouched a bit on the arm of the settee to mark the end of her recitation. "And now that you've heard my story, gentlemen, tell me yours. Aside from taking the piss with each other all afternoon, what have the pair of you been up to today?"

Sirius immediately dropped an arm around Remus's neck and drew him close. Remus looked a little surprised, but amiably allowed himself to be pulled into a half-reclining headlock.

In a hoarse, urgent whisper, Sirius said, "Lord! We're in for it now, Moony. Lady wants to know what we've been up to. You're better at this sort of thing. Tell her something! Anything!"

"Er," said Remus, from the vicinity of Sirius's armpit.

Sirius waggled his eyebrows at Tonks as they waited for Remus to think of something--anything!--to tell her.

"Er," said Remus again in a slightly choked voice. "Playing noughts and crosses?" he offered. His fingers began gently prying Sirius's forearm loose from across his windpipe.


"Great one, mate. Well done!" Sirius nodded fervently. He seemed blithely unaware of his friend's impending asphyxiation. "And next time we play, you can be the naughty one and I'll be cross."


Sirius set about making ardent smooching noises in the vicinity of Remus's ear and enthusiastically squeezed tighter. Remus's face shaded from pink to purple. In spite of the sure knowledge that Sirius was having her on, Tonks felt her mouth drop open at this exhibition. Which was apparently not over.


"Er," Remus cleared his throat as he continued his polite struggle to extricate himself from Sirius's encompassing arm. "We actually were playing noughts and crosses, at one point," he said huskily, removing one hand from Sirius's arm long enough to indicate the wadded up parchments on the table. "Sirius claims to have a foolproof system, if he can just work out the kinks."


"Mm. Kinks," moaned Sirius with ardent glee into Remus's newly mussed hair.


"And, er, don't mind him. Just be grateful he hasn't started on the wand jokes yet."


Apparently giving up on his previous attempts at detaching Sirius's death-grip, Remus placed a finger with scientific precision between two of Sirius's ribs and gave a deft wiggle. Sirius loosened his hold and fall back with a breathy shriek, allowing Remus to duck away from the encircling arm.


"You are far too fond of tickling for a Dark creature," accused Sirius. "For shame, sir!"


Remus gave Sirius an admonishing look that was heavily laced with... amusement? Affection.


Now freed, Remus glanced apologetically at Tonks. Sweeping his hair from his eyes, he explained, "Padfoot does sometimes get a bit... excitable after he's had a glass or two." Sirius raised that empty vessel in illustration. "Not that I would want to put you off him as a drinking companion," Remus continued, massaging his throat. "Very, um... companionable."


A small sound of disbelief emerged from Sirius, now wedged into the farthest corner of the settee with his knees protectively raised. "Certainly didn't put you off, did it, my bonny boy? Can you deny that only a short while ago your mouth was crammed full of my meat?"


The silence that followed this shocking proclamation was so complete that Tonks now knew what people meant about hearing a pin drop. The tick of the wall clock made a deafening accompaniment to the heat rising in her cheeks.


Things had veered rather suddenly into the surreal.

She lifted her eyes to where Remus was sitting, quite still. His own eyes were closed, and he was massaging his eyelids with his forefingers. He seemed to be fighting some strong emotion, but it didn't appear to be mortification.

She transferred her gaze to Sirius, who was regarding her with an air of expectancy. His eyes widened as if daring her to say something. He looked entirely too innocent to be credible. Which was, of course, all to the good.

Taking heart, Tonks leaned forward and gave Sirius her best intimidate-the-suspect-with-the-threat-of-Azkaban stare. She found that she was twisting nervously at a strand of hair at her neck and put her hand down. "That was an image," she told him sternly, when at last she found her voice, "that I could have lived without."

"Honestly? You surprise me," returned Sirius coolly. And to emphasise the fact of his surprise, he raised his eyebrows at her. "Now, why ever--?"


Sirius stopped and looked across at Remus, whose eyes had opened cautiously. While his face was quite expressionless, something in Remus's posture suggested that he was holding himself back from something. Tonks wondered if he might be as tempted to hex Sirius as she was.

When Remus opened his mouth to speak, however, he addressed himself to her instead. "Er, Tonks. Would it help at all if I assured you... er, that this isn't how it looks?" asked Remus, in a oddly strangled voice.

Sirius let out an exaggerated and musical "Ooooh," and let realisation dawn on his face, the merest hint of a evil smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "My, my, my." He shook his head in apparent regret. "I see now. You've quite a dirty mind for one so young, Auror Tonks. No doubt the corrupting influence of all the malefactors with whom you spend your days, working them over with your truncheon or whatnot."


He turned to Remus, "Tell her, mate, how much you enjoyed that delicious steak I cooked for you at lunch today."

And suddenly the two of them were off into gales of uproarious laughter. Sirius thumped Remus repeatedly on the back, as Remus wiped a few tears from his eyes.

Tonks smiled and laughed with them. It was impossible not to, really. But her cheeks, she was sure, were still crimson. "Well, far be it from me to play gooseberry. I'll just... leave you two alone for a bit, shall I?" She stood, hoping the embarrassed quiver at the end of the sentence would be taken for something else. Amused condescension, perhaps.

"Oi!" Sirius smiled at her winningly. "Don't go! If you only could have seen your face, Tonks. I'll promise to behave--"

"Please, Tonks--"

Tonks held up her hands. "Not to worry. I'll be back in a few minutes, after you two have had a chance to stop channelling your inner twelve-year-olds."

Their faces dropped, and she realised that she had sounded--was--petulant.

First jealous, then embarrassed, and now petulant. Great.

She went on hastily, "Not that I mean to-- to disapprove or anything. All in good fun, I know that. It's-- well-- wonderful to see you both in such cheerful moods." She was twisting that strand of hair again and stopped herself with an effort. "Only I-- yeah, I have a few things that want doing in the kitchen first. So, um, see you in a tick."

She backed out, her face burning with confusion. As she away from the door into the hall, she heard Remus quietly reproving Sirius, who interrupted him in a booming voice, saying, "Colours up nicely, though, doesn't she? And I did warn you that the gloves were off. Do you remember that time I did something similar with Lily and James? Never saw so many shades of red. The circumstances were different, of course, but improvisation's the key, I always say..."

Her progress down the hall thankfully drowned him out.

(continued in chapter 7)

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A/N: Thank you to my kind-hearted reviewers and to the rest of you readers as well. ;) Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope to have another update ready in a couple of weeks. ~Mahsa