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Old 07-27-2008, 12:35 AM   #533 (permalink)

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Hogwarts RPG Name:
Phoebe James
First Year

x7 x8

Ministry RPG Name:
Genevieve James
Law Enforcement

Ministry RPG Name:
Carrigan Howard
Accidents & Catastrophes
Made of Awesome | Ern-la the Best-wa | TZ's Apogee

Thanks for reading, guys! I know that my extended breaks have lost some of my readers, but just knowing a few of you out there are sticking with me makes me want to finish it. Thanks!

Lissy, comments! I love your comments. PLEASE.

Ze Kris, no... I made that up. It's not in the book, but it seems sort of plausible. I love Fleur as a character, but mostly as a character I sort of make stuff up about and pretend is true. Same for Andromeda.

Andy, I love that juxtaposition of Fleur and Tonks too. They both need a friend, though... do you see?

Lexia, I hope you enjoy this one too. Chew between bites, k?

Morgan, welcome to my FF! I'm so glad you're reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Oh, and HEY! We hit 25,000 words! Awesome!

Winter in Hogsmeade alternated between the times spent being snowed into The Scup for days and actually having to dig out to retrieve supplies. It wasn’t that it was an unusually snowy winter; it was just that Tonks marked time through memorable events, and the winter seemed to be one snowstorm after another. In between times, the drifts would shrink a little each day. Just when they thought the ground would be clear again, the snow would fly for days and they’d be stuck inside again.

Tonks spent much of this time perfecting her Wizarding chess skills and, at the prodding of her mother, working at the craft of letter writing. Andromeda Black Tonks insisted that letter writing was a lost art form, and she wouldn’t have a daughter who scribed letters consisting of phrases that barely qualified as sentences. Tonks sent a polished letter once a week to her mother and an occasional letter to Molly and the Weasleys as well. It was a very politic move intended to stave off unwanted visits and to keep the busybodies from worrying.

She also wrote letters almost daily to Remus, but the majority of those ended up Evanescoed before the ink had even dried. She did keep a few of the better drafted ones, typically the angry ones that railed at him for being an idiot and a coward. She never kept the pathetic ones that begged him to love her, begged for a word or a sign that he was thinking of her too.

From his end, Remus was silent. Granted, she never sent any of her letters, but he was still silent. The Quaffle was with his chaser now, and she would never stoop to begging again. The garden scene, in her opinion, was quite enough. So she played chess and wrote letters and tried to think about what spring would look like when it came. She’d feel better in the spring.


Spring came. March was more miserable then even February had been. At least February had those mornings where you woke up and the light outside was so white you knew the ground was thick with snow again. It had young wizards and witches bundled up like tiny yetis and building snow goblins of intricate design, and it had hot chocolate with marshdumplings that fizzled as they melted into the cup. March simply had slush. Wet, muddy streets and ankle-deep pathways were the norm, and Tonks soon tired of wet socks and sight of a very gray world.

March also, finally, brought news of Remus. Tonks had the luck to sleep in that morning, and she only awoke when Savage rattled the Scup with the slam of the front door. He’d been on night patrols, and that in itself marked the early hour to Tonks. She could hear him growling and yapping in the kitchen, but Tonks merely pulled the blanket over her head and considered sleeping until the world was sunny and slush-free.

“Bloody werewolves!” The shouting came up the stairs and past her room before Savage’s own door slammed. Tonks was out of her bed in a flash, sliding down the hall and nearly tumbling down the stairs toward the kitchen. She was a mess, panting in the doorway with pajamas twisted all around her body and her hair sticking every which way. Proudfoot blinked at her and immediately offered her his cup of coffee.

“You certainly need this more than I do, Tonks. What’s the matter with you?” He shrugged when she ignored the cup and took another sip. “You’re not up for another couple of hours. Dawlish is patrolling.”

Tonks tugged her hair down across her forehead. “Just… Savage was yelling. Thought… what was he yelling about? Werewolves?” Beautifully played, Tonks. Now he thought she had the reflexes of a skittish mooncalf in a lightning storm.

“Too right he did,” Proudfoot nodded at the tangled copy of The Daily Prophet that had obviously been discarded on the kitchen table. “Been some sort of werewolf attack. Prophet’s botched the story, you ask me. No information on who was attacked or who did it, but some sort of vague reference to roving bands of werewolves in the hills. Malarkey, you know. Werewolves aren’t pack animals like standard wolves.”

Tonks ignored Proudfoot as she smoothed the paper out in front of her, looking for any details. Her mind was already racing to all those dangerous, scary places that spelled out death or imprisonment for Remus. Was he attacked? Was he dead? Or did he do the attacking? Was he party to it? He could go to Azkaban. The idiot man was such a hero he’d turn himself in at the slightest indication he’d hurt someone.

With a frustrated sigh, Tonks shoved the paper away from her and ended up tearing it right down the middle. Nothing. No details beyond what Proudfoot had already stated. “Why put a story in without knowing anything?” she snapped.

Proudfoot took a long sip of his coffee, his eyes steady on her as he drank. He seemed to be taking an extended amount of time to gather his thoughts. “They knew someone was attacked. Don’t worry on it. Kenyon and Greenleigh are probably already well into the investigation. You want to just keep your mind on our job and not worry about theirs, Tonks.”

“Yes, sir,” Tonks stared at the table. Obviously, Proudfoot wasn’t going to be any great source of information, and she needed information. She kept her wild-eyed gaze on her feet. “I’m going to get a shower in before my shift starts.”

“Have a lie in,” Proudfoot suggested. “You’re not on until after lunch.” He was worried about her, and Tonks had worked so hard these past few weeks to be level-headed and keen witted.

She nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll see you later.” Tonks skittered out of the kitchen, prepared to hide in her room until her shift. There was one person who would absolutely know if Remus was involved in this werewolf attack, and she couldn’t visit him with Proudfoot standing guard on her downstairs. She’d have to shirk her patrols to visit Hogwarts.
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