THIRTY-THREE
Remus tugged at the fraying edge of his sleeve as he lingered outside the Ministry of Magic, his eyes darting toward the golden doors. Every two weeks, without fail, he submitted a job application, knowing full well he had no chance of being hired. Werewolves didn’t get second chances in this world. Yet here he was again, clutching his tattered bag and rehearsing a new excuse for his presence should anyone question him.
But the Ministry wasn’t the real reason he came.
Nymphadora.
Her hair was vibrant pink today, bouncing in soft waves as she chatted with a colleague near the entrance. Remus tried to ignore the way his chest tightened at her laugh or the way her nose scrunched when she smiled. She was sunshine in human form, and he was the storm cloud that trailed after her.
“You’re pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, dragging himself toward the employment office.
Fifteen minutes later, with yet another rejected application in his pocket, he stepped back into the bustling atrium. She was gone, her usual spot near the fountain empty. His shoulders slumped, and he almost convinced himself to leave—until he caught a flash of pink disappearing into the Floo network. Without thinking, he followed her.
Diagon Alley was alive with activity, witches and wizards bustling between shops, their laughter mingling with the clinks of Galleons and the chatter of street vendors. Remus spotted Tonks near Flourish and Blotts, her unmistakable hair standing out among the crowd. He kept his distance, weaving through the throng as inconspicuously as possible.
She was browsing the window display of magical bestiaries, her head tilted as she examined a particularly garish book on enchanted creatures. Remus’ heart thudded painfully in his chest. What was he doing? He should leave before—
“Remus?”
His stomach plummeted. She turned, her brows furrowed in confusion before her expression softened with amusement. “Are you following me?”
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Panic surged through him. He glanced around for an escape, muttering something incomprehensible before bolting down the street.
“Oi! Wait!”
His attempt at a dignified retreat ended when he smacked into a stone wall, the impact rattling his teeth and leaving him dazed. He turned to find Tonks doubled over with laughter, her shoulders shaking as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
“You’re hopeless,” she said between giggles. “Honestly, you’re worse than Moody on a stakeout.”
Remus straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his robes. “I wasn’t following you,” he said, his voice feigning nonchalance. “I was… concerned. There’s been talk of Death Eater sightings in the area.”
Tonks arched a brow. “You’re worried about me?”
“You’re an Auror. It’s… logical.”
She studied him for a moment, her lips quirking into a knowing smile. “Well, you’re in luck. I’m on break. C’mon.”
Before he could protest, she grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the Leaky Cauldron.
The pub was warm and bustling, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the smell of butterbeer. Tonks guided him to a small table in the corner, waving down Tom for two butterbeers and a basket of chips. Remus sat stiffly, his hands clasped in his lap as she leaned back, utterly at ease.
“You’re too tense,” she said, nudging his foot under the table. “Relax. I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”
He choked on his own breath, his face flushing as she grinned at him. Was she… flirting? No, surely not. It was just her playful nature. She didn’t mean anything by it.
Tom returned with their drinks and chips, and Tonks grabbed a butterbeer, taking a long swig before setting it down with a satisfied sigh. “So, tell me something about yourself, Lupin. Something I don’t already know.”
He blinked. “What… what do you already know?”
“Plenty.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “I know you’re clever. You’re a bookworm. You’ve got this whole broody, tragic hero thing going on. And,” she added, lowering her voice with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I know you’re a werewolf.”
The butterbeer nearly slipped from his hand. He stared at her, his mouth dry. “You… you know?”
She shrugged. “Of course. Doesn’t bother me, though. Makes you more interesting.”
His brain short-circuited. She wasn’t supposed to know. And if she did, she wasn’t supposed to be so… casual about it. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions—relief, fear, and a spark of something unfamiliar. Hope?
“Why?” he asked quietly. “Why doesn’t it bother you?”
She popped a chip into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Because it’s part of who you are, isn’t it? And from what I can see, it doesn’t define you. You’re kind, brave, and honestly, a bit of a mess, but in a charming way.”
He couldn’t help the small, incredulous laugh that escaped him. “A mess?”
“A lovable mess,” she clarified, her eyes twinkling. “But don’t let it go to your head.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the noise of the pub fading into the background. Remus sipped his butterbeer, his thoughts a tangled web of gratitude and confusion. For the first time in years, he felt seen—not as a monster, but as himself.
Tonks’s voice broke through his reverie. “You’re not as scary as you think you are, you know.”
He glanced at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Neither are you.”
She laughed, the sound like sunlight breaking through a storm. And for the first time in a long while, Remus felt a sliver of warmth pierce the cold edges of his heart.
""I've created lifelong friendships knowing less about people tough. But if it's not enough for you, then we can play twenty questions. What House were you in at Hogwarts?"
"Gryffindor," Remus replied with a genuine smile, the scent of biscuits flooding his senses. The way she smiled in his direction warmed him over.
"Ah, loyal, handsome, and brave." She leant her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. There was a devious glint in her eyes. "What on earth will I ever do with you?"
Love me, Marry me, Shag me stupid.
He stared into blue eyes that were slowly shifting green—the same shade he saw in the mirror every day. Her hair was changing as well, turning into his sandy-blond colour, minus the grey streaks. He took it as a good sign and summoned up that famous Gryffindor courage, suggesting, "You could let me take you to dinner?"
Now all he had to do was face Sirius and Hermione.