The flowers are withered, the tree is dead, and the grass is scorched
¡Good morning everyone! Let’s continue with the canon:
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Harry Potter 5 – Chapter 9:
There’s a small section that says this. Since it’s very short, I’m copying it here so you don’t have to look it up (it’s actually a bit longer — feel free to read the full passage if you want). Sorry Mr Copyright.
In the days that followed, Harry couldn’t help noticing that there was someone at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place who didn’t seem very happy at the news that he’d be returning to Hogwarts.
When he heard it, Sirius played his role well: he squeezed Harry’s hand, smiled brightly, celebrated along with everyone else. But soon after, he became more irritable, more distant. He spoke less and less, even with Harry, and spent long hours shut up in his mother’s bedroom, with only Buckbeak for company.
—Don’t feel guilty, — Hermione told Harry firmly, after he confessed how he felt while they were cleaning a mouldy cupboard on the third floor. — Your place is at Hogwarts, and Sirius knows that. Honestly, I think he’s being very selfish.
—Don’t be so harsh — Ron replied, wrinkling his nose as he tried to wipe a smear of mould off his finger.
— You wouldn’t like being stuck in a house like this either, with no one to talk to.
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And indeed, he was.
Sirius, though he enjoyed the effervescent live of Grimmauld Place, couldn’t help feeling like a passing guest in his own life.
There was something cruel in that return to normality: he knew that once the kids went back to Hogwarts, once Molly and Arthur returned to the Burrow and Lupin left on assignment, he would be alone again.
As if these bright days he was living were nothing but a mirage, a radiant parenthesis about to finish.
The afternoon light fell in a golden, slanted glow, bathing the ancient walls of the Black mansion in a warmth that felt deceptively peaceful.
Everything seemed calmer than it truly was.
More beautiful than it would last.
From the upper floor, Sirius stood by one of the tall windows, watching the back garden with a distant expression, as if expecting to see something beyond the obvious.
Lupin, who had come upstairs to put away a report, stopped when he saw him.
He made no noise.
He simply leaned against the doorframe, observing his friend in silence.
He knew well what was going through his head.
The moment when one begins to tell oneself that happy days have an expiration date.
That soon everything would change.
That soon… everyone would leave.
—What are you doing up here so quiet? —he finally asked softly.
Sirius didn’t turn, but he smiled faintly.
—Looking at the garden —he answered in a thin voice—. The flowers are withered, the tree is dead, and the grass is scorched. And it’s nothing special, but with this late-summer light… it almost looks pretty, doesn’t it?
Lupin nodded, though Sirius couldn’t see him.
—It almost looks like a place where nothing bad ever happened —Sirius went on, still facing the window—. Where the sun shone every day and the halls were full of laughter, optimism and good vibes. Always. Like now.
Sirius sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and let out an ironic smile.
—Who would have told me that, in this house of my nightmares, I could also live a happy summer?
A brief silence followed.
The kids’ voices floated up from downstairs, accompanied by one of Ron’s loud laughs.
—Do you remember how Lily hated endings? —asked Sirius, still not turning around—. The end of the school year, the holidays, Christmas… above all, the end of summer.
He finally turned toward his old friend, with an expression half cheerful, half sad.
—She said they made her nostalgic even before they happened. She always felt something was about to end, even if she didn’t know what.
Lupin let out a soft laugh, more melancholy than amused. Yes, he remembered that side of Lily perfectly.
—You know? —Sirius continued, still gazing at the window— I think I understand her. She had this strange way of getting ahead of everything. Even sadness.
—Yes —Lupin repeated, lowering his gaze—. Sometimes I think she saw things the rest of us didn’t want to see.
Another silence.
And then, as if Lily’s name had opened a secret door,
Remus sank into his memories. A specific scene returned to him with almost painful clarity: his first encounter with Lily Evans.
He remembered the moment he met her as if it had happened yesterday.
Fourth year, second period, Charms class. Peter was in the infirmary, Sirius and James were serving detention with McGonagall, and he… he was sitting alone at a desk. And so was she.
They had seen each other before, of course. They shared classes and were both in Gryffindor. But they had barely exchanged a few words.
Professor Flitwick paired them together without much thought, and Remus didn’t think much of it either. It was an insignificant detail in his routine, just another class, another day at Hogwarts.
For James, when he found out later, it was almost a personal tragedy.
—NOOOO! —Remus remembered James exclaiming, one hand on his heart and the other on the desk, as if this were the greatest misfortune of his life—. If I hadn’t been in detention, I could’ve partnered with her!
Remus smiled to himself.
Both the boy in his memories and the adult revisiting them seemed to overlap.
He could almost hear James’s soul crashing at his feet again while Sirius doubled over laughing behind him, slapping the table with his open hand.
Lily Evans, brilliant in Charms, with her red hair and easy smile, didn’t flinch when she was paired with Remus.
She showed no disappointment or discomfort, and when Professor Flitwick —after seeing the excellent result of the spell they had practiced together— suggested they remain study partners for the term, Remus looked at her, almost expecting her to refuse.
But she leaned in slightly, with a gesture of quiet complicity, as if she somehow knew this moment would stay with him forever, and simply said: “That’s fine by me.”
What James never knew —what no one ever knew— was how much that day meant to Remus.
Not because of the class, nor the spell they had been tasked with.
But because it was the beginning of a friendship that broke barriers.
After that class, they began running into each other more often.
At first, just casual encounters in the library or corridors: quick exchanges of notes, comments about teachers or homework.
But slowly, without Remus being able to pinpoint when, Lily became someone he could talk to without overthinking every word.
It felt strange to him at first.
With the Marauders, friendship always carried an air of chaos and adrenaline.
But with Lily it was different. She wasn’t a partner in mischief; she was someone he could talk to.
Someone who didn’t expect grand jokes or bravado from him, who simply listened. With her, friendship had a calm rhythm, like a long walk without hurry or a quiet moment sitting on a windowsill watching the snow fall.
She was the first person outside James, Sirius and Peter who made him feel seen.
The first who didn’t need explanations to understand him.
And that sense of complicity was mutual.
Lily talked to him about her sister Petunia, about how the distance between them had become an abyss ever since the Hogwarts letter arrived. She confided her bewilderment about James: his insistence, his antics, his immaturity.
And he, in turn, shared his own fears.
The most incredible thing was that, even though they moved in different circles, they always found moments to meet. In the library, in the cloisters, walking through the gardens. There always seemed to be a space reserved just for them, as if the universe insisted on giving them those small instants.
But what he remembered most —what he could still feel as if it had happened yesterday— was the night he told her the truth about himself.
It wasn’t an accident. She didn’t discover it by chance or deduction, though she had suspected.
No.
He told her.
He told her because, after months of sharing secrets and being understood without judgment, he knew she would do the same. And when, with his heart tight and his knuckles white from gripping his hands, he confessed that he was a werewolf, Lily didn’t flinch.
She didn’t step back, didn’t shudder, didn’t look around to see if anyone might overhear.
She simply hugged him.
And Remus, who had never received a hug like that, knew in that moment that Lily Evans would be part of his life forever.
Not as an impossible love.
Not as a romantic longing.
But as the sister he never had.
As that platonic soulmate who, no matter how hard he tried to push away, would always remain.
But now she was gone.
Silence stretched in his mind until something —a sort of mocking whistle, almost a crooked victory song— snapped him out of his thoughts.
—Well, well —Sirius said, turning his head toward him with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile—. Looks like the nostalgia bug has bitten you now.
Remus blinked, as if returning from far away, and forced a soft laugh. He ran a hand down his face with feigned exhaustion, then approached and gave his friend a friendly pat on the back.
—You started it —he replied with a crooked smile.
—Of course —said Sirius, shrugging halfway.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The sunlight filtered in with less strength through the glass. Downstairs, laughter continued, and a faint echo of youth travelled through the house as if reluctant to leave.
Remus cast one last glance at the garden and turned toward the stairs.
—Come on. Molly will start shouting if we don’t go down soon.
Sirius sighed with exaggeration but followed him.
—Do you think there are still any biscuits left?
—If the twins didn’t get there first… you might be lucky.
—Ah yes. That’s what I call faith in magic.
And together, they went downstairs.
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The light in the Ministry of Magic was that impersonal shade of white that made every hour of the day look exactly the same.
Tonks had been reviewing reports for over two hours next to Kingsley at one of the desks in the Magical Security wing. The parchment crackled under her fingers, and her quill buzzed like an irritated insect as she filled in the boxes of the intervention protocol.
—You skipped the section on “confiscated objects” —Kingsley murmured without lifting his eyes from his own report.
—Because I didn’t confiscate anything. It was all empty threats —Tonks replied.
Kingsley let out a low grunt, still not looking up. Routine had reclaimed the corridors, but there was a tension in the air that even tedious bureaucracy couldn’t dissolve.
Then, a set of firm footsteps made the floor vibrate beneath their chairs.
Tonks glanced up just as Dawlish passed by, his Auror cloak billowing behind him and his expression even more severe than usual. He was flanked by two uniformed wizards.
One of them, Booth, exchanged a brief look with her as he went past.
Tonks caught him lightly by the forearm.
—What’s that about? —she asked, crossing her arms as Booth paused for a moment beside her desk—. Dawlish looks even more serious than usual… and that’s saying something.
Booth gave her a crooked smile.
—Raid.
—Another one? —Tonks raised her eyebrows.
Her partner nodded.
—A family in Barnsley reported threats… someone’s marking their house with the Dark Mark, shouting from the shadows. You know —he lowered his voice—: imitators.
—Are they bluffing?
Booth shrugged, tense.
—Maybe. But they might have real contacts. So just in case, we’re going in at full strength.
Tonks sighed and wished him luck.
As she watched him head toward the lifts, his Auror cloak buttoned all the way up to his neck, she felt a small shiver run through her. Booth walked with purpose, speaking quietly to the other agent. The door closed behind them with a sharp sound.
Tonks looked at Kingsley.
—There are more and more enemies —she murmured.
Kingsley only nodded slightly, dipping his quill into the inkwell. He still hadn’t raised his head, but Tonks knew he’d heard them too.
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Between the endless reports, a last-minute intense meeting, and Moody’s surprise training session, Tonks had barely had a moment to breathe that day.
Alastor’s magical eye had followed her throughout the entire dueling session, correcting her stance, her speed, her reaction to surprise attacks.
“Not good enough, Tonks. You think a Death Eater’s going to wait for you to straighten up? Again!”
She had finished the training with her hair a mess and her uniform wrinkled, but with the satisfaction of knowing that, at the very least, she hadn’t given him the pleasure of seeing her give up.
When she finally left the Ministry, yawning lazily, she felt an immediate wave of relief at the thought of the Order’s headquarters.
No interrogations there, no urgent missions. For now.
Just the crackling of the fire in the kitchen hearth, the promise of a hot cup of tea, and Molly Weasley’s delicious homemade biscuits.
And she wasn’t wrong.
The moment she crossed the kitchen doorway, the thick air scented with cinnamon and honey wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
It was like stepping into another world.
Molly’s and Ginny’s laughter filled the room with conspiratorial joy, and Tonks found herself smiling without realising it.
—Tonks! —Ginny exclaimed when she saw her—. Come, come, you have to hear this.
—What are you planning now? —Tonks asked, amused, as she hung up her cloak and sat beside them.
—Women’s matters, dear —Molly said with a mischievous look, handing her a cup of tea and a tray of biscuits—. Come on, you’ve arrived just in time for a break.
Tonks wrapped her cold hands around the mug, expectant.
From his corner, Remus, absorbed in his reading, glanced up for a moment. Their eyes met.
—Lupin —she greeted him with a smile.
—Tonks —he replied with a slight nod before returning to his book.
She held his gaze a second longer with a playful glimmer in her eyes. Then turned back to the Weasley women.
—Well then? What’s today’s conspiracy about?
Ginny let out a giggle, and Molly, with theatrical flair, pushed the plate of biscuits nearer her.
—We were talking about boys —she said, as if announcing something momentous.
Tonks arched an eyebrow and took a biscuit.
—Uh-huh.
Molly gave her a curious look.
—And you, Tonks? What do you look for in a man?
Tonks, without a hint of hesitation, replied:
—That he’s clean.
She said it with such firmness that an almost comical silence fell over the kitchen. Ginny blinked. Molly did too.
—Clean? —Molly repeated, as if expecting something more… substantial.
—Of course! —Tonks exclaimed with utter solemnity—. There’s nothing worse than a guy who leaves dirty socks everywhere, toothpaste in the sink, or who doesn’t know a single cleaning charm.
And before either Weasley could respond, Tonks grinned mischievously and, with a quick blink, transformed her nose into that of a pink pig, sniffing loudly as she stared at Ginny with exaggerated seriousness.
Ginny burst into laughter.
—Tonks, please! —she managed between giggles— This was supposed to be an adult conversation!
Even Molly, trying and failing to stay composed, ended up letting out a loud, warm laugh.
Just then, Bill walked into the kitchen, his loose hair falling over his shoulders and a relaxed look on his face. He nodded at Lupin in his corner, and Remus returned the sign.
—Ah, Bill, dear, just in time —said Molly, wearing a sweetness far too deliberate.
Ginny recognised it instantly. That was her mother’s “I’m plotting something” face.
Bill, who knew her even better, raised an eyebrow as he poured himself a cup of tea.
—In time for what?
Molly waved a hand with false nonchalance, though her tone was far too casual to be sincere.
—For a nice little chat, of course —she said innocently—. Tonks has just come back from work. Always running around, terrible hours… It’s a shame such a lovely girl doesn’t have more time for herself. Or for others, don’t you think?
Tonks, who had just taken a sip of tea, choked and had to set the cup down with a small thud.
—Wow, thanks, Molly —she managed, clearing her throat and wiping her lips with the back of her hand—. I didn’t know my love life worried you so much.
Bill smiled casually, leaning against the table.
—Well, Tonks has always been a woman of action —he said with a half-smile—. I can’t picture her sitting at home embroidering cushions.
—But even women of action need someone waiting for them at home —Ginny chimed in, eyes sparkling mischievously. She had clearly understood her mother’s plan perfectly.
Bill rolled his eyes with a playful smile.
—Oh, come on, Ginny. Don’t tell me you’re part of this too —he said, giving his sister a reproachful look.
Tonks, far from uncomfortable, raised an eyebrow mischievously.
—What’s happening is that Molly and Ginny want a wedding in the family as soon as possible —she teased, leaning back in her chair.
Ginny shrugged, that little hehehe escaping her —the one she only used when she knew she was getting away with something— and Bill let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
—Exactly —Ginny confirmed, shameless—. And you two would be perfect together.
From his corner, Lupin kept his eyes on his book, though he wasn’t turning any pages. He held his cup of tea between his hands, unmoving. He tried to tune them out, but his shoulders were tense. Something about how naturally Tonks and Bill looked at each other, how easily they smiled… unsettled him.
There was no reason for it, of course.
It was just friendly chatter, meaningless jokes. And even if there were something more, it wasn’t his business. Still, Ginny’s comment echoed annoyingly in his head.
—All I’m saying is that my big brother is handsome, clever, and charming —Ginny went on, delighted with her matchmaking, while Molly nodded with a deep, ho-ho-ho kind of laugh she was trying —and failing— to contain.
Tonks looked at Bill with a cheeky grin, as if to say, well, she’s not wrong.
—And you’re amazing —Ginny added, now looking at Tonks with a meaningful expression.
—Absolutely —Molly agreed, no longer even pretending to hide her scheming.
Tonks and Bill exchanged a look of shared incredulity at this unsolicited —or rather, overly solicited— matchmaking.
—You’re desperate to pair me off —Tonks said lightly, grabbing another biscuit.
Ginny rested her chin on one hand and tilted her head, scrutinising her.
—It’s just that the only man on your mind is Moody —she finally blurted out, recalling an earlier conversation about the old Auror’s questionable charm.
Tonks’s laugh rang through the kitchen, sincere and carefree.
—Exactly! —she declared, placing a hand over her chest dramatically—. And it’s a love not easily surpassed, mind you.
Bill let out a low chuckle, and Ginny shook her head, resigned. Lupin, meanwhile, sighed softly and forced himself back to his book, brow furrowed.
Tonks glanced at the kitchen clock, left her half-eaten biscuit, and downed her tea in one go before standing with renewed energy.
—Night shift!. I’m leaving!
She grabbed her remaining biscuit and waved at them with an easy smile —but her eyes lingered on Lupin for an instant.
He held her gaze, trapped in thoughts he couldn’t yet organise. But before he could make sense of any of them, Tonks was already out the door.
Bill sighed dramatically and turned to his mother and sister.
—Mum, honestly. You even dragged Ginny into this.
Molly flushed slightly, but straightened with all the dignity of a mother utterly convinced of her cause.
—What? I’m simply saying you’re a handsome man, a good catch, and you’re not getting any younger… Tonks is exactly what you need.
—Totally —Ginny agreed enthusiastically, clearly enjoying herself—. She’s fun, strong, and she doesn’t get intimidated by anything.
Bill rolled his eyes, though his smile showed he was used to this sort of conversation.
From his corner, Lupin lowered his gaze to his cup, trying to focus on the warmth between his hands.
But the words reached him with cruel clarity. He felt tempted to cover his ears like a child, just to block out the rest.
—And what do you think, Remus? —Molly asked suddenly.
He blinked, startled, dragged into the very conversation he had been desperately trying to avoid.
He looked up and found all three Weasleys staring at him expectantly.
—Er… well, yes, Tonks is wonderful —he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Bill nodded, unaware of the tension subtly tightening Lupin’s posture.
—She is —he said thoughtfully—. She’s smart, brave… She has this contagious energy. She knows how to make people laugh, even in the worst moments. And she’s loyal. She’s the kind of person who stays by your side until the end, no matter what.
Molly and Ginny exchanged a look of glowing approval.
Lupin felt his chest tighten sharply.
But then Bill smiled, amusement sparkling in his eyes, and added:
—Although, to be honest, my heart is already taken.
Silence fell.
—What? —Ginny leaned forward, eyes wide.
Bill let the suspense hang for a few seconds before finally revealing, with a touch of pride:
—Her name’s Fleur Delacour.
Molly and Ginny were left open-mouthed.
Lupin, without realising it, had been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly. No longer able to pretend to read, he lifted his head and followed the conversation.
—Fleur Delacour? —Ginny exclaimed—. That Fleur Delacour?!
—The very one —Bill replied, smiling dreamily—. She’s incredible, passionate, brilliant… And when you look into her eyes, you feel like you could see yourself there forever.
Lupin let out a low, almost inaudible laugh. Suddenly, he felt impossibly light.
—But… how did this happen? —Molly’s voice rose as she frowned—. Since when do you see her?
—For a while now —Bill admitted—. She comes to Gringotts often for work, and well… we started talking. Then seeing each other outside the bank. And before I knew it, I’d fallen completely for her.
—And you didn’t think to tell me! —Molly protested, offended—. Your own mother! Since when do you have a girlfriend without me knowing?
—Mum… —Bill began, placating, though he couldn’t hide his smile.
Ginny eyed him with suspicion.
—And is she into you too?
Bill chuckled.
—Seems so.
—Merlin! —Ginny dropped her head into her hands—. Tonks would’ve been a much better sister-in-law!
Molly, arms still crossed, hesitated between surprise and reluctant approval. She remembered Fleur; she’d seen her during the Triwizard Tournament, when she went with Bill to Hogwarts to cheer on Harry.
—Well… Fleur is certainly a beautiful girl. Though I don’t know if…
—If she’s good enough for your eldest —Bill finished, amused.
Molly huffed.
—I didn’t say that.
—But you thought it.
—I just hope she doesn’t dazzle you too much, that’s all —she muttered sincerely.
—She’s much more than beauty, Mum —Bill cut in, now serious.
Ginny rolled her eyes. She wasn’t convinced. But something in Bill’s expression told her that all possibility of pairing him with Tonks had officially evaporated.
—Remus —Molly called, suddenly seeking an ally—. You haven’t said anything.
Lupin blinked, as if just landing back on earth, and forced a smile.
—Glad to hear you’ve found someone, Bill —he said calmly—. Fleur seems like a… um… wonderful young woman.
Bill tilted his head with a playful smile.
—That’s exactly what you said about Tonks.
A little snort escaped Ginny, sharp and teasing, but Lupin only shrugged.
—Well, I suppose I have good taste.
Ginny kept watching him, eyes narrowing slightly, as if she had just noticed something and were filing it away for later.
Lupin stood, gathering his cup and his book.
—I should turn in —he said—. It’s been a long day.
—Good night, Lupin —Bill said.
Molly and Ginny echoed him, though the younger Weasley gave him one last, curious look.
Lupin left the kitchen with steady steps, though his mind was anything but steady.
In fact, he had already drifted far from the conversation about Bill and Fleur.
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The next morning, Remus Lupin woke up early.
The night had been long, invaded by insomnia and scattered thoughts.
When he opened his eyes, the weight of what he had felt the night before was still there… That uncomfortable tug in his chest as he watched the natural, easy rapport between Bill and Tonks, and the clear approval Molly and Ginny had shown toward that romantic possibility.
He lay in bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling with a furrowed brow, trying to unravel the source of that unease.
In truth, it wasn’t difficult. He just didn’t want to admit it.
But he had no doubt what it was.
He had felt jealous.
He clicked his tongue and rubbed the back of his neck, irritated with himself.
He knew he had no right to feel that way. It was absurd, improper. And yet, he couldn’t shake the persistent sting that kept returning again and again.
He went to the bathroom and washed up more slowly than usual, as if the ritual of water and soap could bring order to the chaos in his mind.
He tried to look for another explanation, something more rational, more fitting to his character. But he found none.
It was clear: the idea that there might be something between Bill and Tonks had unsettled him.
And, to his own surprise, he had also felt relieved to know that it wasn’t the case. Bill was in love with someone else. And apparently, that someone loved him back.
Lupin stared at the running water from the tap, lost in that thought.
He couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to experience something like that. Not just to love.
But to know you were loved. Without doubts. Without reservations.
He had never known such a thing.
He had never been the recipient of a gaze like the one Bill had when he spoke about Fleur.
He looked at his own reflection in the mirror, his expression grave as he studied the lines of his face and the shadows beneath his eyes.
He sighed and looked away.
But then Tonks’s image —smiling with that same bright gleam he had seen in Bill’s eyes— slipped into his mind.
And with unsettling clarity, he remembered the serenity he had felt upon realising there was nothing between her and the eldest Weasley.
He shaved carefully, as if each stroke could erase something more than stubble. He applied a new lotion —an unusual detail for him— as though the freshness might ease the storm inside.
With his face renewed, he put on a clean jumper, worn and mended though it was, and headed downstairs to the kitchen with a book under his arm.
When he entered the kitchen, he found Molly already preparing breakfast, wearing her housecoat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and toast crackled in the pan.
—Good morning, Molly —he greeted, forcing a shy smile as he headed for the coffee pot, looking for a distraction.
—Good morning, dear —she replied with her warm, motherly smile, though her thoughts seemed far away.
As he served himself coffee, he heard her muttering under her breath, shaking her head with mild disapproval:
—A French girl, they say… and according to Ginny, half-Veela… Where will this lead? Is Bill bewitched? Oh, honestly… and when I was so close to setting him up with Tonks…
Lupin froze, the cup halfway to his lips. Hearing his name in that context sent a sharp jolt through his stomach.
But he had no time to dwell on it.
At that moment, the kitchen door opened and Tonks appeared in the doorway.
Her hair was a dull, washed-out blonde, tied back in a small, messy ponytail, with stray strands falling across her forehead. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed how little she had slept, and her general expression was that of someone who had just come out of a battle. Or of a night shift, which was practically the same thing.
Even so, when she saw Molly and Lupin, she straightened up energetically and greeted them as if nothing were wrong.
—Good morning! —she exclaimed with an enthusiasm that did not match her appearance.
Molly answered with tenderness, though a flicker of concern crossed her face upon seeing her so tired.
—You look like you’ve fought a troll…
—More like worked with one —Tonks muttered with a grimace as she dropped into the seat beside Lupin.
He looked up and met her eyes. Tonks gave him a conspiratorial smile that he attempted to return, though he still felt unsettled.
Molly set a steaming cup of coffee in front of her.
The auror accepted it gratefully, wrapping both hands around it, letting the warmth seep into her fingers and the comforting aroma do its part.
But there was something else in the air.
Tonks, completely unaware of Lupin’s discomfort, leaned slightly toward him, wrinkling her nose as if sniffing something.
—You smell nice —she remarked, amused.
Lupin blinked, unsure how to respond. Before he could say anything, Molly also chimed in, raising her head with a surprised expression.
—She’s right. There is something different.
Tonks settled back with a long, theatrical sigh.
—Thanks, Remus. I spent the night with Stuart —she explained with her usual blunt cheer, taking a long sip of coffee—. That man always smells like stale tobacco and damp clothes… like a troll! I thought I was going to faint.
And just like that, she closed her eyes for a second and morphed her nose into a little pink pig snout, sniffing loudly and dramatically.
A laugh burst out of Lupin, a genuine, unrestrained laugh. It came from somewhere deep, as if it had been trapped for far too long. With that sound, the tension in his shoulders, back, and chest loosened all at once. For the first time since the previous night, he could breathe.
Tonks, surprised by his exaggerated reaction, opened one eye and, feeling a little ridiculous, returned to normal with a shy chuckle.
—Tonks —Molly said suddenly.
Tonks turned her head, still smiling.
—Yes?
Molly sat down across from her with a thoughtful expression, taking a sip of her tea.
—I just wanted to apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable at any point. It wasn’t my intention to meddle in your life.
Tonks tilted her head, confused at first. But when she saw Molly’s face, she understood immediately: the matchmaking attempts.
Her response was a soft, carefree laugh.
—Oh, Molly, please. Don’t worry. Honestly, I’m flattered you thought I was worthy of your eldest son.
She shot her a playful wink, and Molly, relieved, smiled as well.
Conversation flowed easily again. Soon it shifted toward Fleur Delacour, and Molly —unable to restrain her curiosity— began asking about her son’s supposed girlfriend.
—So, what do you think of her? Do you know her? Have you heard anything else? —Molly asked, hardly hiding her anxiety.
Tonks let out a brief laugh in her melodic, ever-cheerful voice.
—Well, I don’t know her personally —she replied, stretching her neck tiredly—. But if Bill has decided she’s the one, I doubt there’s much to worry about. I’m sure he has good judgement.
Molly regarded her skeptically, but couldn’t help smiling at her enthusiasm.
—Well, maybe you’re right, dear. Perhaps I just need to get used to the idea. It’s just hard to picture Bill with someone… so different.
—So different? —Tonks echoed with a mischievous smile—. It’s not like we can’t have a French girl in the family. What matters is that Bill’s happy!
Molly huffed, folding her arms.
—We’ll see about that.
Lupin watched them quietly, and without realising it, the corners of his mouth curved upward. The discomfort that had plagued him the night before had become so small he barely felt it.
This light, harmless chatter was exactly what he needed.
Little by little, he let himself be drawn into Tonks’s energy —her gestures, her jokes, her efforts to convince Molly.
—If Bill chose her, what can we do? —Molly repeated, mostly to herself.
Lupin nodded gently before speaking.
—I don’t think there’s anything to do but support him —he said calmly—. What matters is that he’s sure of his feelings.
Tonks nodded enthusiastically.
—Exactly! And if Bill’s happy, that’s all that matters.
Then, with a warm smile, she added:
—Although of course, Molly… it wouldn’t hurt to give all potential daughters-in-law a fair chance. Or sons-in-law.
Molly laughed softly, as if accepting she was being overprotective.
—I don’t doubt it. But it’s difficult, that’s all. —She paused, looking at both of them—. I can’t help it. I worry about them. It’s what parents do.
Lupin sighed gently.
—That’s normal —he said quietly.
To his surprise, he realised his smile had returned naturally, without effort.
And the reason was sitting right beside him. Laughing, chatting, filling the kitchen with light without even noticing.
Tonks’s warmth, her optimism, her good humour… wrapped around him with the same quiet ease with which, years ago, Lily had given him that rare feeling of peace and deep companionship.
He allowed himself to enjoy that sensation —soft, restorative— tinted with a sweet kind of nostalgia.
Molly got up to continue her chores, still muttering to herself.
Lupin closed his eyes for a moment, listening to Tonks let out something between a light laugh and a yawn.
She glanced sideways at him, noticing his unusual calm. Then she leaned toward him with one of her most mischievous looks:
—Have you noticed you’re smiling? —she asked, making his smile widen.
—I know —he replied simply, lifting his cup again—. I suppose it makes me happy to see Bill happy.
—Me too —Tonks agreed honestly.
Then she leaned a little closer, as if she were about to tell him a secret Molly couldn’t hear.
Lupin, almost unconsciously, did the same —drawn in by the playful glint in her eyes and the familiar, soft smile tugging at her lips.
—And I’m also happy because I think Molly will finally stop trying to pair us off —she whispered, rolling her eyes—. Because it really is a bit embarrassing.
Lupin let out a soft laugh, and with it, the last remnants of that restless feeling from the night before faded away.
It wasn’t just relief —it was clarity.
He didn’t need to analyse it, rationalise it, or break it into pieces. Just live it.
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AUTHOR’S NOTE:
As you can see, I’m still fully immersed in slice-of-life territory before the drama arrives.
I’ve always felt that the “summer cohabitation” in Grimmauld Place — between chapters 3 and 9 of Book 5 — is missing: quiet moments, domestic energy, the small details that make these characters feel alive.
In Book 6 there’s a hint that Molly Weasley tries to set Tonks up with Bill (or at least that’s what Ron and Ginny believe), and I decided to take advantage of that tiny detail to bring a bit of domestic chaos and warmth into the story.
Today the focus is more on Remus, and on what is beginning to move inside him: that first ridiculous stab of jealousy, that uncomfortable awareness that Bill and Tonks could make sense… and the calm that follows once he realises they don’t.
I’m working with the idea that Lily was Remus’s best friend, a kind of platonic soulmate. And he’s starting to see Tonks as a sort of “reincarnation of Lily.” Not as a “new romantic interest” (not yet), but as someone who reminds him of what peace feels like… of what complicity feels like… of what light feels like.
Anyway, let me know if this version resonates with you or not.
You can see the chapter’s illustration on my socials — feel free to stop by Instagram, Tumblr, or TikTok.
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