Paradox, Part 13
Oct. 7th, 2006 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pandora_culpaTitle: Paradox
Word Count: 4432
Dramatis Personae: Tonks, Remus, Moody
Scene Rating: PG
A/N: Just how many words are there that mean 'confused'?
(sorry, I'm ill, and have no clever words tonight)
A steady tapping, gentle but persistent, gradually impinged on Tonks' consciousness, and with a start she sat upright. Shadows formed a bewildering landscape through the darkened bedroom, each seeming to hide some nasty, half-forgotten nightmare, and she stared about in sleepy confusion. It took her a moment to realize she'd fallen asleep, and yet another to recall the events of the morning, and the memory brought an instant whiplash of fright. Her hands clenched involuntarily into fists, the motion tightening the bindings on her forearm, drawing a hiss of breath that snaked between her lips, and this time it was anger, not fear, that flared in her chest.
The rapping came again, and Tonks' head whipped around, seeking the source. The sound was coming from the room beyond, and sudden understanding jolted her from stillness. Wand still clenched tight, she slid down from her bed and padded to the door to her flat, every nerve strained to an almost painful intensity.
"Who's there?" she called through the barrier, anticipating the answer, but ready with several nasty curses should she be wrong.
"It's me, Tonks," came the familiar, tired voice. "It's Remus. May I come in?"
She only relaxed slightly. "Give me a minute," she replied, taking a step away from the door. Murmuring a complex incantation, she worked an intricate pattern in the air with her wand as she released the warding, and the door flared briefly red. Letting her wand drop to her side, she sighed. "It's fine now."
The knob rattled as Remus pushed the door open and stepped inside. His weary face was set in deep lines of concern; incongruously, he carried a scraggly bouquet of wildflowers and a dark bottle of what appeared to be cheap red wine. For an instant shocked surprise painted his worn features, then he dropped his eyes to the floor, his face coloring.
"Ah… are you well, Tonks?" he asked, stammering only slightly and refusing to look up at her.
"Well enough, considering" she replied curtly. "What's wrong with you?"
She thought she saw his eyes dart upward, but he quickly looked away. "Er, your- ahem- attire…"
Only then did she remember dispelling her Auror's robes and that she wore only a bra and knickers, although she did have a bedsheet still half-wrapped around her shoulders. Warmth flooded her cheeks as she muttered, "Oh, right, one mo'…" Embarrassed, she pulled the sheet up nearly to her chin as she turned and fled back to her room. There she hurriedly threw on some loose trousers and a camisole before returning to the front room where Remus was continuing his intense study of the floor.
"I'm safe to look at now," she told him as she reentered the room.
He ventured a quick glance up, confirming that she was indeed dressed before lifting his head to regard her with a mixture of discomfiture and worry. There was something more in his eyes, but she didn't dare scrutinize it, instead focusing on the items still clutched in his hands. Pointing, she asked, "Were you meeting someone?"
"What? Oh, these-" With an apologetic grin and a flourish, he presented her the somewhat weedy-looking bundle of flowers and the bottle. "Same trick as you and Kingsley. If your home is being watched, I'd rather the Ministry thought I was trying to seduce you, rather than assuming I was plotting sedition with you."
The corner of her mouth twitched upward involuntarily, although the humor was fleeting. Accepting the gifts with quiet thanks, she led him into the small living room of the flat, telling him to make himself comfortable while she gathered glasses and a vase. She could hear him settling on the couch as she rummaged a blue bottle from the cupboard and Charmed it full of water, and from outside came the rumble of cars, and the occasional thunder of a lorry. A group of children ran below her window, squabbling amongst themselves like blackbirds, and the sheer normality of the moment was almost hallucinogenic.
But she took a deep breath and finished placing the wildflowers in the bottle, then gathered up a couple glasses that looked both clean and nice enough for company and tried to saunter back into the living room with nonchalance. One look at Remus, however, informed her that he wasn't fooled a bit. Nor could he help stealing a glance at her arm, still bound in cloth from wrist to elbow.
"What's the news?" she asked before he could say anything, snatching up the wine bottle and nearly toppling one of the glasses as she began pouring.
Remus reached out to steady it, sighing deeply. "Bad. Kingsley's come 'round, with much the same story you told me. He's better now, thank Merlin, but he was in a sorry state when he called us from the Ministry."
"He stayed?" Tonks gasped, incredulous. "After that?"
"He was on duty. He couldn't leave without raising suspicions, and from what he said, raising suspicions is the very last thing one would want to do at the moment." Hazel eyes, clouded with unspoken worries, met her own troubled stare before dropping back to the table. "If it's any consolation, there's not been much support for this."
Tonks could feel the Mark burning against her skin, even though she knew very well it was her imagination, and not the Ministry summons. Pushing a full wineglass in front of Remus, she replied, "I can't imagine there would be. But Fudge isn't backing down, is he?"
Remus shook his head, making no move toward the wine. "Not a chance. With almost all of the Aurors marked, as well as every Unspeakable, he's got nearly the entire enforcement division of the government in his pocket. If I had to guess, the Wizengamot was cozened into the idea by thinking that they would somehow be in command of the Marks, but from what Kingsley's told us, Fudge or one of his advisors is the one who's really in control."
"Merlin, it's worse than I thought then," Tonks whispered, but suddenly something else Remus had just said sprang forward in her mind, demanding attention. "Wait- you said almost all of the Aurors. Who escaped? What about Moody?"
The look on his face told her immediately that he was searching for some way out of answering, and Tonks felt her stomach drop. She snatched up her glass, draining it in one gulp, before setting it back down with enough force to make the glass ring. "Don't dodge the question," she told him, her voice lethally quiet. "I have to know."
He hesitated, then his shoulders slumped and he leaned back and covered his face with his hands. "Kingsley told us that William Cheevley resisted. He's in Azkaban right now. So is Tom McFadden."
"Mad Eye, Remus! What's happened to him!" Her voice was shrill and louder than she'd intended, but it had the desired effect as Remus dropped his hands and looked her full in the face.
"We've got no idea," he said flatly. "No one's seen or heard from him since you saw him leave the Ministry. They're predictably keeping hush-hush about it, but Kingsley suspects that the Unspeakables…" His voice broke, and he had to clear it before continuing. "He reckons that they caught him."
"No," Tonks moaned, and Remus caught her hands in his.
"No one knows," he insisted, his words coming rough and fierce. "You know how tough that old bastard is- they'd be doing good to follow him, let alone take him down. And you know that the Ministry would make sure everyone knew, if they took him."
"But the Unspeakables…"
"…are still going to have to face Mad Eye Moody, the best bloody Auror there's ever been, when and if they do get close. Tonks…"
"They've permission to use the Unforgivable Curses! They want to kill him!" The line between control and hysteria was thinning again; she could feel it disintegrating like dry cobwebs blown in the wind. "What's the Order doing- has anyone searched for him, tried to find-"
"Tonks!" Remus jerked hard against her hands, cutting her off mid-word. "Tonks please, you must calm down."
"But-"
"Nymphadora!" he roared, "We're doing the best we can!"
Silence ruled the room for a long, tense moment. The street noises were only a distant hum, like static, and Remus' hands were pincers around her wrists, gripping her almost hard enough to bruise. The panic was gone, fled as quickly as it had come on, leaving Tonks drained and weary and desperately craving a cigarette.
Finally she ducked her head, relaxing in his grip, and Remus loosened his tight hold. He didn't seem as though he was quite certain she wouldn't erupt once again, and she wasn't so sure she could have made such a promise anyway. But she managed a lopsided smile when he apologized for his rough response, shrugging away his queries as to whether he'd hurt her.
"No more than I've earned, I'd say," she countered with only mild acerbity. "Sweet Circe… I'm coming unglued, Remus." With a thought, she summoned the pack of cigarettes from her bedroom, catching them neatly as they sailed to the sofa.
He watched her light up a fag with narrowed eyes. "You've good reason to," he said softly, but the tension was back again.
She smoked her cigarette in silence, watching the smoke curl upwards to the ceiling, and little else, aware all the while that he was carefully studying her. She let the moments drag by, unwilling to be the first to speak, and when she was mashing the butt out on the floor he asked, "When did you start smoking again?"
"Yesterday," she replied curtly, waiting for him to begin admonishing her for the habit. But surprisingly, he said nothing, even going so far as to offer her a light as she drew a second slim stick from the pack, and she was halfway done smoking that before he spoke again.
"Why didn't you tell me they used the Imperius curse on you?" he asked with gentle innocuousness, and the unanticipated question caused her to gasp and choke on the smoke she'd just inhaled.
Spluttering, she glared at him through the acrid haze she'd coughed out. "Why would you think I'd want to?" she snapped, the shock of the memory goading her to antagonism. "Gods above, I'm an Auror; we're supposed to be able to throw that curse off, we've been trained in it, haven't we?" He didn't answer, simply kept watching her, and at last she shrugged irritably. "They shouldn't have been able to do it. I don't know how they did. But it's damned humiliating how easily they were able to handle us- a great bloody room full of Aurors, Remus! They shouldn't have been able to!" The tears were nearby once again, and she pushed them back with a surge of anger. "It's been years since I felt so helpless. Can you imagine what it must have been like for some of the older ones? Being controlled like a puppet, and knowing damn well who was doing it, and that they're supposed to be on our side? If you told me You Know Who himself was behind this, it would almost be a relief. But for it to be the Ministry…"
One hand flapped helplessly, trying to express the betrayal and the horror of the event, but it was beyond her. Grasping the wine bottle by the neck, she sloshed some more into a glass, drained it, then pointed at the still-full wineglass before the werewolf. "Aren't you drinking?"
He shook his head. "I've sworn off," he told her. She raised a challenging eyebrow, and he returned the look with a self-mocking smile.
"Call me a coward, but since Dumbledore's death, I'm a bit nervous of being inebriated. Fearful that that's the time they'll catch me unawares, I suppose." He chuckled nervously. "Paranoia, that's what it is."
"Keeps you alive," she responded automatically, repeating one of Moody's adages almost involuntarily. The pain was still there, close by, but no longer debilitating, and she thought back to what Remus had said earlier. Despite his assurances that the old Auror would be tough to track and capture, she was still desperately worried about the old man. There was no telling just what the Unspeakables were capable of- except in the matter of Unforgivable Curses, which she knew the results of all too well. None were faster or more dangerous than Mad Eye among the Aurors, but she could only hope that his skills and survival instincts would be enough to protect him from those who were hunting him.
"So what are you planning to do?" Remus inquired quietly, startling her from her ruminations. He was watching her again, eyes dark and thoughtful, one hand resting lightly on his knee. He looked so completely at ease that it took a second, closer look to notice the tautness of his limbs and the subtle shift of weight that indicated he was ready to grab her again if she reacted badly to the question.
He would never have been afraid of my answer, a week ago, she thought with regret. Aloud, she said, "I'm not really sure. I was suspended yesterday, so I've no obligations to the Ministry until next week, but after this," she waved her arm, still bound with cloth, "I just don't know what my next move is. Look for Mad Eye, I'd imagine."
His fingers traced the near-invisible line of his collar. "Be careful," he cautioned. "The Ministry is running scared, to enact all these drastic measures, so there's no telling what's to come next. Nor what they'll perceive as threatening or treacherous, so please, please don't take any risks. We've lost Dumbledore already, and with Moody missing, the Order can't afford any more losses.
"And besides," he concluded with a wry chuckle that sounded only a little forced, "who else would let me pretend to court them?"
She smiled back at him then, grateful for the break in the mood. "Kingsley," she suggested. "He's good that way."
Remus laughed aloud at that, and the sound of honest amusement broke something loose that had been lodged in her chest, and Tonks began giggling too. It didn't quite replace the ache inside, but it made it tolerable; it made her feel stronger, and capable of handling the insanity around her. She was able to finish the evening with Remus on a relatively light note, thanking him for the wine, and securing a promise from him to return in a couple of days to compare notes.
"I doubt I'll be making it to Grimmauld much," she told him grimly as he was leaving. "I'm going to try and drop in at the Weasley's when I can, but it seems that lately I'm a bit of a liability, and I don't want to endanger Arthur's job."
"Just don't raise the Ministry's suspicions," he replied.
"I'll be careful," she promised, waving to him as he descended the steps from her flat. To herself, she added, and hopefully, I'll find Mad Eye too.
It wasn't hopeless. She'd find Moody, if not tomorrow, then soon, and she'd do her best in the meantime to convince the Ministry that she was a good, obedient Auror. Somehow she'd find a way to continue helping the Order as well. The meeting with Remus had done much to restore her shattered confidence, and even the Ministry Mark she bore didn't seem as great a burden now. With a greatly lifted heart, she tidied the living room and washed up the glasses before returning to her bedroom, where she'd spent most of the day in terrified silence.
As she climbed into her bed, she felt almost too excited to sleep; the new purpose she'd found burned inside, making her anxious to begin. But she'd barely drawn up the sheet before her body succumbed to the stress and exhaustion of the last couple days, slipping her off into dreams that were, for the first time in weeks, peaceful.
It seemed like no time at all had passed before a steady knocking bore her back from the depths of slumber. Rubbing her face, Tonks grumbled and tried to focus, groggy and disoriented from the deep sleep from which she'd been roused.
"Just a minute!" she called out, as the knocking continued unabated. Still too sleepy to wonder who would be at her door so early, she swung her legs off the side of the bed, only to yelp in pained surprise when her knees collided with a low bedside table. Her eyes flared wide open, her stunned oath at the unexpected contact sputtered and caught in her throat as she stared about in disbelief at the bare, gray walls of a bedroom that most certainly were not her own.
Her wand was in her hand, and although she had no memory of grabbing it, the smooth shaft was a comforting weight in the palm of her hand. Fully awake now, she realized with astonishment that the room was one of the temporary quarters at 12 Grimmauld Place, but she'd no memory at all of how she'd come there. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she turned a slow circle in the center of the room, searching for something or someone to account for her change in locale, but there was nothing to explain it. The room was just an ordinary bedroom, one she'd slept in on more than one occasion, and if someone had managed to move her from her home, they hadn't stayed to see her wake.
The Ministry- I'm Unplottable here! she thought with a surge of fear, and tucked her Marked arm close to her chest, and the sense of wrongness flared. Sparing a quick glance down, Tonks glimpsed pale flesh, but not the wrappings she'd so carefully tied to cover the drawing on her skin, and there on her forearm…
Virulent curses spilled from her lips, and if her arm hadn't been attached she would have flung it across the room in her shock. Where the inky drawing had been clearly etched just the night before was clear, bare skin, not marred by so much as a freckle. It hadn't faded; it was simply gone as though it had never existed.
Before she had quite digested that knowledge, the knocking paused, and the abrupt cessation of sound gave her a sudden chill, and she turned to face the door. For an instant there was stillness, then came a horribly protracted moment as the door swung inward with a protesting creak. Wand at the ready, Tonks had a nasty hex poised to fling when a familiar, grizzled head appeared in the gap, bulging blue eye rolling in its socket, and she couldn't contain a cry of amazement.
The old man frowned at her, heavy brows knit together. "Making a bloody lot of noise, you are. About time you were up, though."
"Mad Eye!" she gasped, stumbling toward him. "Thank Merlin! I've been so worried!"
"What're you talking about?" Mismatched eyes studied her, the familiar, seamed face lined with bewilderment and suspicion. "Someone Confunded you?"
"I- no! The Ministry meeting… Moody, you disappeared… the Unspeakables… no one knew where you were…" Tonks floundered for words, stumbling through confused explanations until Moody finally gestured her to silence.
"Lass," he said, very gently, and her heart sank. "I think it's best you stop right there. You're not making any sense. And there's something else I think we need to discuss now."
Mind reeling, Tonks held stock-still, staring at the old Auror but not quite comprehending what he'd said. Not making sense? How could she make sense, when nothing around her was sensible any longer? But at least he was safe, and her mind clutched at that fact to the exclusion of all else as he cleared his throat and began speaking.
"I don't know what's going on in your head, but seems to me, it's taking its toll on you," he told her in his gravelly voice. "Now I know you're a solid Auror, and more reliable than most people, but be damned if I understand what's making you act so strangely. " He paused, shaking his head before continuing. "You don't show up when you're scheduled, and you're making appearances where you've no business- going to Apparition classes? Never would have expected that. Dudgins could hardly believe it when he told me, and neither can I!"
This was wrong. The terrible dislocation of the moment, of Moody's presence and her own unexplained appearance at Grimmauld, was almost too much for words. She couldn't even muster a protest, for what could she tell him? She'd seen this play out in the days before- things she'd said, or done, that no one else could recall- and was certain as death itself that nothing she could say now would explain the discrepancies. Hadn't Moody himself, just days earlier, scolded her for missing the Apparition class? It was as though her life had fractured, falling into shards around her while she stood, helpless, in the wreckage.
"Haven't you been listening?" The snap in Moody's voice brought her back to the here and now, but still her mind churned, seeking some anchor amidst the chaos. "Lass, what the bloody hell is wrong with you lately?"
A horrible, ridiculous smile tried to creep its way onto her face. She fought it, knowing how inappropriate it was, but the sickly amusement was stronger than propriety. Her face pulled tight in a skull-like rictus of a grin, and she whispered, "I've no idea. None at all."
She'd rarely had the opportunity to see Mad Eye Moody caught off guard, and it was no more pleasant now than it had ever been in the past. His natural eye widened, while the bulging, magical one spun until it was a blur of blue. She could almost hear his blood quickening, and could certainly feel the tension and danger that radiated from his taut body as he stepped closer to her, one hand hovering over his wand. "What did you say?" he asked her, his voice frighteningly soft.
She ought to be afraid. If Mad Eye had ever looked at her this way before, she would have been terrified that he was about to Stun her or worse. But she was growing steadily number, unable to absorb the constant shocks she'd endured the past few days, and she repeated, "I don't know. I've no idea at all what's wrong with me. What I do know doesn't make sense, so there's no reason to mention it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled, fingers twitching and Eye reeling.
"It means I don't have any answers," she told him, still feeling oddly detached from the scene. "There's nothing to say."
He stared at her a moment longer, his expression completely unreadable. "Well then, you won't mind taking some time off from your job to try and find out what's wrong, will you?" he said, and she understood quite well that it wasn't a suggestion. He was frowning at her now, his disappointment plain, and something died inside her at that look. Tapping his clawfoot on the floor like a cane, he slumped his shoulders and grumbled, "Find out quick, lass. We need you well."
And turning quickly, he was gone, out the door before she had a chance to utter a word. She stared at the closing door for a split second, then leapt for the handle, flinging the door aside and bursting into the hall beyond.
"Mad Eye, wait!" she called out, but stopped short as she looked around in amazement. She was poised just beyond her bedroom door; the long corridor she'd expected to see, filled with old, moldering portraits and eerie Black heirlooms was nowhere in evidence. Of the old Auror, there wasn't a sign, and a shiver slid down her spine. A sudden weight dragged at her right arm, and she knew without looking that the Ministry Mark was back. Crossing her arms across her chest to keep from shaking, she drew a deep breath and counted to thirty before permitting herself to move.
This had happened too many times now. For a moment she wondered what it felt like, going mad, but she pushed the thought away angrily. She wasn't mad, she couldn't be; it was the world that had gone mad, slipping into unconnected segments that fused together without reason. She couldn't be to blame.
Her arm throbbed- not a summons, but a notice. The Ministry, looking over her shoulder and reminding her, we are here. We are watching. The sensation nearly made her ill, made her want to hurry down to the pub on the corner and drink until she couldn't feel anything ever again. But she settled herself, and instead indulged her nerves with a cigarette, noting as she drew the fag from the pack that it was nearly empty. She'd need to buy more soon.
Drawing in the smoke, she held it for a minute before letting it out with what was almost a sigh of relief. She knew rationally that she ought to be more concerned for her health- she'd shed this particular habit for a reason- but under the circumstances, she couldn't muster the strength to care. It was enough that it steadied her hands and took her mind off the morass of confusion her life had become.
As she smoked, Tonks pushed it all out, all the panic and confusion, letting every exhalation of smoke carry more and more apprehensions away, drifting upward until they disappeared in the air. She let the knot of fear and anxiety loosen within her, replacing it instead with resignation and dispassion. She no longer worried about imminent madness, nor the heavy hand of the Ministry. The only thing that mattered was the cigarette, burning shorter with every breath, but remaining steady and immutable within her hand.
When it had burnt to a stub, Tonks carefully mashed it out, then cleaned up the ash with a thought and a wave of her wand. She considered Flooing back to Grimmauld, to see if Moody was still there, but dismissed the idea with a shudder. No need to waste the time; no doubt he wasn't there, nor ever had been. Ignoring the sickly feeling of wrongness that was rising in her gorge yet again, she pulled on a jacket and headed out of her flat, down to the store to purchase more cigarettes.
Word Count: 4432
Dramatis Personae: Tonks, Remus, Moody
Scene Rating: PG
A/N: Just how many words are there that mean 'confused'?
(sorry, I'm ill, and have no clever words tonight)
A steady tapping, gentle but persistent, gradually impinged on Tonks' consciousness, and with a start she sat upright. Shadows formed a bewildering landscape through the darkened bedroom, each seeming to hide some nasty, half-forgotten nightmare, and she stared about in sleepy confusion. It took her a moment to realize she'd fallen asleep, and yet another to recall the events of the morning, and the memory brought an instant whiplash of fright. Her hands clenched involuntarily into fists, the motion tightening the bindings on her forearm, drawing a hiss of breath that snaked between her lips, and this time it was anger, not fear, that flared in her chest.
The rapping came again, and Tonks' head whipped around, seeking the source. The sound was coming from the room beyond, and sudden understanding jolted her from stillness. Wand still clenched tight, she slid down from her bed and padded to the door to her flat, every nerve strained to an almost painful intensity.
"Who's there?" she called through the barrier, anticipating the answer, but ready with several nasty curses should she be wrong.
"It's me, Tonks," came the familiar, tired voice. "It's Remus. May I come in?"
She only relaxed slightly. "Give me a minute," she replied, taking a step away from the door. Murmuring a complex incantation, she worked an intricate pattern in the air with her wand as she released the warding, and the door flared briefly red. Letting her wand drop to her side, she sighed. "It's fine now."
The knob rattled as Remus pushed the door open and stepped inside. His weary face was set in deep lines of concern; incongruously, he carried a scraggly bouquet of wildflowers and a dark bottle of what appeared to be cheap red wine. For an instant shocked surprise painted his worn features, then he dropped his eyes to the floor, his face coloring.
"Ah… are you well, Tonks?" he asked, stammering only slightly and refusing to look up at her.
"Well enough, considering" she replied curtly. "What's wrong with you?"
She thought she saw his eyes dart upward, but he quickly looked away. "Er, your- ahem- attire…"
Only then did she remember dispelling her Auror's robes and that she wore only a bra and knickers, although she did have a bedsheet still half-wrapped around her shoulders. Warmth flooded her cheeks as she muttered, "Oh, right, one mo'…" Embarrassed, she pulled the sheet up nearly to her chin as she turned and fled back to her room. There she hurriedly threw on some loose trousers and a camisole before returning to the front room where Remus was continuing his intense study of the floor.
"I'm safe to look at now," she told him as she reentered the room.
He ventured a quick glance up, confirming that she was indeed dressed before lifting his head to regard her with a mixture of discomfiture and worry. There was something more in his eyes, but she didn't dare scrutinize it, instead focusing on the items still clutched in his hands. Pointing, she asked, "Were you meeting someone?"
"What? Oh, these-" With an apologetic grin and a flourish, he presented her the somewhat weedy-looking bundle of flowers and the bottle. "Same trick as you and Kingsley. If your home is being watched, I'd rather the Ministry thought I was trying to seduce you, rather than assuming I was plotting sedition with you."
The corner of her mouth twitched upward involuntarily, although the humor was fleeting. Accepting the gifts with quiet thanks, she led him into the small living room of the flat, telling him to make himself comfortable while she gathered glasses and a vase. She could hear him settling on the couch as she rummaged a blue bottle from the cupboard and Charmed it full of water, and from outside came the rumble of cars, and the occasional thunder of a lorry. A group of children ran below her window, squabbling amongst themselves like blackbirds, and the sheer normality of the moment was almost hallucinogenic.
But she took a deep breath and finished placing the wildflowers in the bottle, then gathered up a couple glasses that looked both clean and nice enough for company and tried to saunter back into the living room with nonchalance. One look at Remus, however, informed her that he wasn't fooled a bit. Nor could he help stealing a glance at her arm, still bound in cloth from wrist to elbow.
"What's the news?" she asked before he could say anything, snatching up the wine bottle and nearly toppling one of the glasses as she began pouring.
Remus reached out to steady it, sighing deeply. "Bad. Kingsley's come 'round, with much the same story you told me. He's better now, thank Merlin, but he was in a sorry state when he called us from the Ministry."
"He stayed?" Tonks gasped, incredulous. "After that?"
"He was on duty. He couldn't leave without raising suspicions, and from what he said, raising suspicions is the very last thing one would want to do at the moment." Hazel eyes, clouded with unspoken worries, met her own troubled stare before dropping back to the table. "If it's any consolation, there's not been much support for this."
Tonks could feel the Mark burning against her skin, even though she knew very well it was her imagination, and not the Ministry summons. Pushing a full wineglass in front of Remus, she replied, "I can't imagine there would be. But Fudge isn't backing down, is he?"
Remus shook his head, making no move toward the wine. "Not a chance. With almost all of the Aurors marked, as well as every Unspeakable, he's got nearly the entire enforcement division of the government in his pocket. If I had to guess, the Wizengamot was cozened into the idea by thinking that they would somehow be in command of the Marks, but from what Kingsley's told us, Fudge or one of his advisors is the one who's really in control."
"Merlin, it's worse than I thought then," Tonks whispered, but suddenly something else Remus had just said sprang forward in her mind, demanding attention. "Wait- you said almost all of the Aurors. Who escaped? What about Moody?"
The look on his face told her immediately that he was searching for some way out of answering, and Tonks felt her stomach drop. She snatched up her glass, draining it in one gulp, before setting it back down with enough force to make the glass ring. "Don't dodge the question," she told him, her voice lethally quiet. "I have to know."
He hesitated, then his shoulders slumped and he leaned back and covered his face with his hands. "Kingsley told us that William Cheevley resisted. He's in Azkaban right now. So is Tom McFadden."
"Mad Eye, Remus! What's happened to him!" Her voice was shrill and louder than she'd intended, but it had the desired effect as Remus dropped his hands and looked her full in the face.
"We've got no idea," he said flatly. "No one's seen or heard from him since you saw him leave the Ministry. They're predictably keeping hush-hush about it, but Kingsley suspects that the Unspeakables…" His voice broke, and he had to clear it before continuing. "He reckons that they caught him."
"No," Tonks moaned, and Remus caught her hands in his.
"No one knows," he insisted, his words coming rough and fierce. "You know how tough that old bastard is- they'd be doing good to follow him, let alone take him down. And you know that the Ministry would make sure everyone knew, if they took him."
"But the Unspeakables…"
"…are still going to have to face Mad Eye Moody, the best bloody Auror there's ever been, when and if they do get close. Tonks…"
"They've permission to use the Unforgivable Curses! They want to kill him!" The line between control and hysteria was thinning again; she could feel it disintegrating like dry cobwebs blown in the wind. "What's the Order doing- has anyone searched for him, tried to find-"
"Tonks!" Remus jerked hard against her hands, cutting her off mid-word. "Tonks please, you must calm down."
"But-"
"Nymphadora!" he roared, "We're doing the best we can!"
Silence ruled the room for a long, tense moment. The street noises were only a distant hum, like static, and Remus' hands were pincers around her wrists, gripping her almost hard enough to bruise. The panic was gone, fled as quickly as it had come on, leaving Tonks drained and weary and desperately craving a cigarette.
Finally she ducked her head, relaxing in his grip, and Remus loosened his tight hold. He didn't seem as though he was quite certain she wouldn't erupt once again, and she wasn't so sure she could have made such a promise anyway. But she managed a lopsided smile when he apologized for his rough response, shrugging away his queries as to whether he'd hurt her.
"No more than I've earned, I'd say," she countered with only mild acerbity. "Sweet Circe… I'm coming unglued, Remus." With a thought, she summoned the pack of cigarettes from her bedroom, catching them neatly as they sailed to the sofa.
He watched her light up a fag with narrowed eyes. "You've good reason to," he said softly, but the tension was back again.
She smoked her cigarette in silence, watching the smoke curl upwards to the ceiling, and little else, aware all the while that he was carefully studying her. She let the moments drag by, unwilling to be the first to speak, and when she was mashing the butt out on the floor he asked, "When did you start smoking again?"
"Yesterday," she replied curtly, waiting for him to begin admonishing her for the habit. But surprisingly, he said nothing, even going so far as to offer her a light as she drew a second slim stick from the pack, and she was halfway done smoking that before he spoke again.
"Why didn't you tell me they used the Imperius curse on you?" he asked with gentle innocuousness, and the unanticipated question caused her to gasp and choke on the smoke she'd just inhaled.
Spluttering, she glared at him through the acrid haze she'd coughed out. "Why would you think I'd want to?" she snapped, the shock of the memory goading her to antagonism. "Gods above, I'm an Auror; we're supposed to be able to throw that curse off, we've been trained in it, haven't we?" He didn't answer, simply kept watching her, and at last she shrugged irritably. "They shouldn't have been able to do it. I don't know how they did. But it's damned humiliating how easily they were able to handle us- a great bloody room full of Aurors, Remus! They shouldn't have been able to!" The tears were nearby once again, and she pushed them back with a surge of anger. "It's been years since I felt so helpless. Can you imagine what it must have been like for some of the older ones? Being controlled like a puppet, and knowing damn well who was doing it, and that they're supposed to be on our side? If you told me You Know Who himself was behind this, it would almost be a relief. But for it to be the Ministry…"
One hand flapped helplessly, trying to express the betrayal and the horror of the event, but it was beyond her. Grasping the wine bottle by the neck, she sloshed some more into a glass, drained it, then pointed at the still-full wineglass before the werewolf. "Aren't you drinking?"
He shook his head. "I've sworn off," he told her. She raised a challenging eyebrow, and he returned the look with a self-mocking smile.
"Call me a coward, but since Dumbledore's death, I'm a bit nervous of being inebriated. Fearful that that's the time they'll catch me unawares, I suppose." He chuckled nervously. "Paranoia, that's what it is."
"Keeps you alive," she responded automatically, repeating one of Moody's adages almost involuntarily. The pain was still there, close by, but no longer debilitating, and she thought back to what Remus had said earlier. Despite his assurances that the old Auror would be tough to track and capture, she was still desperately worried about the old man. There was no telling just what the Unspeakables were capable of- except in the matter of Unforgivable Curses, which she knew the results of all too well. None were faster or more dangerous than Mad Eye among the Aurors, but she could only hope that his skills and survival instincts would be enough to protect him from those who were hunting him.
"So what are you planning to do?" Remus inquired quietly, startling her from her ruminations. He was watching her again, eyes dark and thoughtful, one hand resting lightly on his knee. He looked so completely at ease that it took a second, closer look to notice the tautness of his limbs and the subtle shift of weight that indicated he was ready to grab her again if she reacted badly to the question.
He would never have been afraid of my answer, a week ago, she thought with regret. Aloud, she said, "I'm not really sure. I was suspended yesterday, so I've no obligations to the Ministry until next week, but after this," she waved her arm, still bound with cloth, "I just don't know what my next move is. Look for Mad Eye, I'd imagine."
His fingers traced the near-invisible line of his collar. "Be careful," he cautioned. "The Ministry is running scared, to enact all these drastic measures, so there's no telling what's to come next. Nor what they'll perceive as threatening or treacherous, so please, please don't take any risks. We've lost Dumbledore already, and with Moody missing, the Order can't afford any more losses.
"And besides," he concluded with a wry chuckle that sounded only a little forced, "who else would let me pretend to court them?"
She smiled back at him then, grateful for the break in the mood. "Kingsley," she suggested. "He's good that way."
Remus laughed aloud at that, and the sound of honest amusement broke something loose that had been lodged in her chest, and Tonks began giggling too. It didn't quite replace the ache inside, but it made it tolerable; it made her feel stronger, and capable of handling the insanity around her. She was able to finish the evening with Remus on a relatively light note, thanking him for the wine, and securing a promise from him to return in a couple of days to compare notes.
"I doubt I'll be making it to Grimmauld much," she told him grimly as he was leaving. "I'm going to try and drop in at the Weasley's when I can, but it seems that lately I'm a bit of a liability, and I don't want to endanger Arthur's job."
"Just don't raise the Ministry's suspicions," he replied.
"I'll be careful," she promised, waving to him as he descended the steps from her flat. To herself, she added, and hopefully, I'll find Mad Eye too.
It wasn't hopeless. She'd find Moody, if not tomorrow, then soon, and she'd do her best in the meantime to convince the Ministry that she was a good, obedient Auror. Somehow she'd find a way to continue helping the Order as well. The meeting with Remus had done much to restore her shattered confidence, and even the Ministry Mark she bore didn't seem as great a burden now. With a greatly lifted heart, she tidied the living room and washed up the glasses before returning to her bedroom, where she'd spent most of the day in terrified silence.
As she climbed into her bed, she felt almost too excited to sleep; the new purpose she'd found burned inside, making her anxious to begin. But she'd barely drawn up the sheet before her body succumbed to the stress and exhaustion of the last couple days, slipping her off into dreams that were, for the first time in weeks, peaceful.
It seemed like no time at all had passed before a steady knocking bore her back from the depths of slumber. Rubbing her face, Tonks grumbled and tried to focus, groggy and disoriented from the deep sleep from which she'd been roused.
"Just a minute!" she called out, as the knocking continued unabated. Still too sleepy to wonder who would be at her door so early, she swung her legs off the side of the bed, only to yelp in pained surprise when her knees collided with a low bedside table. Her eyes flared wide open, her stunned oath at the unexpected contact sputtered and caught in her throat as she stared about in disbelief at the bare, gray walls of a bedroom that most certainly were not her own.
Her wand was in her hand, and although she had no memory of grabbing it, the smooth shaft was a comforting weight in the palm of her hand. Fully awake now, she realized with astonishment that the room was one of the temporary quarters at 12 Grimmauld Place, but she'd no memory at all of how she'd come there. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she turned a slow circle in the center of the room, searching for something or someone to account for her change in locale, but there was nothing to explain it. The room was just an ordinary bedroom, one she'd slept in on more than one occasion, and if someone had managed to move her from her home, they hadn't stayed to see her wake.
The Ministry- I'm Unplottable here! she thought with a surge of fear, and tucked her Marked arm close to her chest, and the sense of wrongness flared. Sparing a quick glance down, Tonks glimpsed pale flesh, but not the wrappings she'd so carefully tied to cover the drawing on her skin, and there on her forearm…
Virulent curses spilled from her lips, and if her arm hadn't been attached she would have flung it across the room in her shock. Where the inky drawing had been clearly etched just the night before was clear, bare skin, not marred by so much as a freckle. It hadn't faded; it was simply gone as though it had never existed.
Before she had quite digested that knowledge, the knocking paused, and the abrupt cessation of sound gave her a sudden chill, and she turned to face the door. For an instant there was stillness, then came a horribly protracted moment as the door swung inward with a protesting creak. Wand at the ready, Tonks had a nasty hex poised to fling when a familiar, grizzled head appeared in the gap, bulging blue eye rolling in its socket, and she couldn't contain a cry of amazement.
The old man frowned at her, heavy brows knit together. "Making a bloody lot of noise, you are. About time you were up, though."
"Mad Eye!" she gasped, stumbling toward him. "Thank Merlin! I've been so worried!"
"What're you talking about?" Mismatched eyes studied her, the familiar, seamed face lined with bewilderment and suspicion. "Someone Confunded you?"
"I- no! The Ministry meeting… Moody, you disappeared… the Unspeakables… no one knew where you were…" Tonks floundered for words, stumbling through confused explanations until Moody finally gestured her to silence.
"Lass," he said, very gently, and her heart sank. "I think it's best you stop right there. You're not making any sense. And there's something else I think we need to discuss now."
Mind reeling, Tonks held stock-still, staring at the old Auror but not quite comprehending what he'd said. Not making sense? How could she make sense, when nothing around her was sensible any longer? But at least he was safe, and her mind clutched at that fact to the exclusion of all else as he cleared his throat and began speaking.
"I don't know what's going on in your head, but seems to me, it's taking its toll on you," he told her in his gravelly voice. "Now I know you're a solid Auror, and more reliable than most people, but be damned if I understand what's making you act so strangely. " He paused, shaking his head before continuing. "You don't show up when you're scheduled, and you're making appearances where you've no business- going to Apparition classes? Never would have expected that. Dudgins could hardly believe it when he told me, and neither can I!"
This was wrong. The terrible dislocation of the moment, of Moody's presence and her own unexplained appearance at Grimmauld, was almost too much for words. She couldn't even muster a protest, for what could she tell him? She'd seen this play out in the days before- things she'd said, or done, that no one else could recall- and was certain as death itself that nothing she could say now would explain the discrepancies. Hadn't Moody himself, just days earlier, scolded her for missing the Apparition class? It was as though her life had fractured, falling into shards around her while she stood, helpless, in the wreckage.
"Haven't you been listening?" The snap in Moody's voice brought her back to the here and now, but still her mind churned, seeking some anchor amidst the chaos. "Lass, what the bloody hell is wrong with you lately?"
A horrible, ridiculous smile tried to creep its way onto her face. She fought it, knowing how inappropriate it was, but the sickly amusement was stronger than propriety. Her face pulled tight in a skull-like rictus of a grin, and she whispered, "I've no idea. None at all."
She'd rarely had the opportunity to see Mad Eye Moody caught off guard, and it was no more pleasant now than it had ever been in the past. His natural eye widened, while the bulging, magical one spun until it was a blur of blue. She could almost hear his blood quickening, and could certainly feel the tension and danger that radiated from his taut body as he stepped closer to her, one hand hovering over his wand. "What did you say?" he asked her, his voice frighteningly soft.
She ought to be afraid. If Mad Eye had ever looked at her this way before, she would have been terrified that he was about to Stun her or worse. But she was growing steadily number, unable to absorb the constant shocks she'd endured the past few days, and she repeated, "I don't know. I've no idea at all what's wrong with me. What I do know doesn't make sense, so there's no reason to mention it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled, fingers twitching and Eye reeling.
"It means I don't have any answers," she told him, still feeling oddly detached from the scene. "There's nothing to say."
He stared at her a moment longer, his expression completely unreadable. "Well then, you won't mind taking some time off from your job to try and find out what's wrong, will you?" he said, and she understood quite well that it wasn't a suggestion. He was frowning at her now, his disappointment plain, and something died inside her at that look. Tapping his clawfoot on the floor like a cane, he slumped his shoulders and grumbled, "Find out quick, lass. We need you well."
And turning quickly, he was gone, out the door before she had a chance to utter a word. She stared at the closing door for a split second, then leapt for the handle, flinging the door aside and bursting into the hall beyond.
"Mad Eye, wait!" she called out, but stopped short as she looked around in amazement. She was poised just beyond her bedroom door; the long corridor she'd expected to see, filled with old, moldering portraits and eerie Black heirlooms was nowhere in evidence. Of the old Auror, there wasn't a sign, and a shiver slid down her spine. A sudden weight dragged at her right arm, and she knew without looking that the Ministry Mark was back. Crossing her arms across her chest to keep from shaking, she drew a deep breath and counted to thirty before permitting herself to move.
This had happened too many times now. For a moment she wondered what it felt like, going mad, but she pushed the thought away angrily. She wasn't mad, she couldn't be; it was the world that had gone mad, slipping into unconnected segments that fused together without reason. She couldn't be to blame.
Her arm throbbed- not a summons, but a notice. The Ministry, looking over her shoulder and reminding her, we are here. We are watching. The sensation nearly made her ill, made her want to hurry down to the pub on the corner and drink until she couldn't feel anything ever again. But she settled herself, and instead indulged her nerves with a cigarette, noting as she drew the fag from the pack that it was nearly empty. She'd need to buy more soon.
Drawing in the smoke, she held it for a minute before letting it out with what was almost a sigh of relief. She knew rationally that she ought to be more concerned for her health- she'd shed this particular habit for a reason- but under the circumstances, she couldn't muster the strength to care. It was enough that it steadied her hands and took her mind off the morass of confusion her life had become.
As she smoked, Tonks pushed it all out, all the panic and confusion, letting every exhalation of smoke carry more and more apprehensions away, drifting upward until they disappeared in the air. She let the knot of fear and anxiety loosen within her, replacing it instead with resignation and dispassion. She no longer worried about imminent madness, nor the heavy hand of the Ministry. The only thing that mattered was the cigarette, burning shorter with every breath, but remaining steady and immutable within her hand.
When it had burnt to a stub, Tonks carefully mashed it out, then cleaned up the ash with a thought and a wave of her wand. She considered Flooing back to Grimmauld, to see if Moody was still there, but dismissed the idea with a shudder. No need to waste the time; no doubt he wasn't there, nor ever had been. Ignoring the sickly feeling of wrongness that was rising in her gorge yet again, she pulled on a jacket and headed out of her flat, down to the store to purchase more cigarettes.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Just look at how crazy you've made me:
Date: 2006-10-09 03:50 am (UTC)And this is so clearly valid proof that I'm the most messed-up person on earth, because all that gnashing and bellowing just means I love the story even more.
YOUR PARADOX IS SO OUT OF HAND and disturbingly effective. And you're my total hero, with all this writing! I have been doing a huge amount of writing about writing, frenzied sketchery, odds and ends of What-ifs. But no actual solid "putting new fiction down to a file", or paper, or whatever, in what feels like ages. (Until today, grinding along for seven hours on a very difficult, wheels-deep-in-the-mud, oh crikey I'm gonna stab my eyes out, on the latest chapter of "Moody And Remus Play Doctor For 10,000 Years And Maybe Eventually Kiss Or Something". Wrote about a thousand words on that, and kept a couple hundred of them.)
But the point, yes. Which is Big Love, for gnarly Ministry Tattooing! I like the choice you made to sort of fade to black (or fade to crazy, as the case may be) on the actual act itself. Keeps it very sinister, the way we don't see it happen in the narrative, but get all Tonks's descriptions and understandably messed-up reaction afterward. Good stuff.
And I am in love with this passage: ...from outside came the rumble of cars, and the occasional thunder of a lorry. A group of children ran below her window, squabbling amongst themselves like blackbirds, and the sheer normality of the moment was almost hallucinogenic.
That's so vivid and yummy, I could just eat it up. One of those contrasts between what is and what ought to be, that is so sharp it hurts. Her whole life's become a nightmare, yet the children squabble and the lorries thunder on outside regardless. Bitchin'.
But if that one's good, this moment is sublime:
"And besides," he concluded with a wry chuckle that sounded only a little forced, "who else would let me pretend to court them?"
She smiled back at him then, grateful for the break in the mood. "Kingsley," she suggested. "He's good that way."
It's one of those simple exchanges between characters that's so spot-on, and so natural, that it gives me goosebumps. It's the exact right thing, in the right place, clearly and perfectly expressing what it needs to. In those few lines, I see your characters more plainly than if I'd read thousands of words of descriptive prose on them. Everything clicks and comes together right there, sweet as you please, and I remember why I'm so crazy in love with writing and fanfiction, and imaginary people, and all of it.
And THEN. Oh man, you are wicked. And then all hell breaks loose again. Where the hell did this Moody come from, bless his soul? He wasn't in the world where he yelled at her to go to Apparition classes, or where he yelled at her for not showing up. And in the world where she took the class, he'd never signed her up, so....oh.
Okay nevermind, I got that one. It gets confusing because no matter where she ends up, he thinks she's crazy and tells her to take some time off, so.
But Moody! What's happened to him in the fucked-up Ministry Tattoo world? Where will he go to keep away from the nasty Unspeakables? And just how horrible is that world going to get? And in the not-tattoo world, where Moody's still around, does Remus still have his collar? So many questions!
I love this story, but you're mashing my brain with it!!! pls wriet mor ok yis.
That comment was too long; here's the rest of it.
Date: 2006-10-09 03:51 am (UTC)PS. YAY BETA BAND! That's so cool, that you're digging 'em. Gives me the happys, getting a new convert to keep me company. And I have a total crapton of those guys, if you're looking for more.
PPS. BOO ICK! Dude, I've had the same crud all week. Massive drag, esp. since I've had no time for a proper drugged-out pity party on the sofa. Honestly, what's the point of being sick, if you can't lay around cracked to the gills on mind-altering cold medication, feeling like a beached foghorn full of mucus, and proclaiming your terminal misery to anyone who'll listen, with the Brady Bunch marathon on TV in the background? I left out the jammies, and fuzzy blankets, and perpetual snowdrifts of Kleenex, but you know the ambience I'm talkin' about.
PPPS. Apropos to comments on earlier post, and here because I keep forgetting: WE WILL BE CLOTHESPIN TWINS. And I think that needs an icon.