Chapter 26

Even in Azkaban, sometimes, the light could be seen

Tonks landed on the concrete platform with a dry crunch beneath her boots.
The wind lashed violently from the sea, swirling the mist as if it had a will of its own.
She lifted her gaze to the leaden sky: hundreds of Dementors floated around the prison, like vultures waiting for the carrion of the living.

The air was thick. Cutting.
As always.

The cold mist began to coil around her. The breath of despair brushed the back of her neck.
But she did not let herself be dragged under.

She remembered her training, the long afternoons with Kingsley.
She was aware that Moody was watching her. She did not need to be perfect or brilliant. Just a survivor.

She shut her eyes tightly.
Tucked a strand of pink hair behind her ear.
And raised her wand and her voice as well.

—Expecto Patronum

A silvery spell began to spill from her wand, wrapping around her and covering the air with small golden and pink glimmers.
And then she saw her. And she smiled.

The silver she-wolf—her Patronus—strong and vibrant, proud, her agile body lifted, chest raised and muzzle tilted towards the sky.

After circling Tonks a couple of times and barking as though smiling at her, she surged upward, racing against the wind, ready to impose her luminous presence upon that corner of darkness.

From her jaws came a clear, ethereal howl, light, yet loud enough to make the Dementors, already closing in on Tonks, recoil.

Moody, a few steps behind, watched her with his arms crossed. He did not smile, but he was clearly satisfied.

—Good, Nymphadora —he growled in his dry tone—. I knew that if I pushed you hard enough, you’d manage to stay on your feet on your own.

—It’s Tonks —she replied, lowering her wand, though a bright spark danced in her eyes.

Moody cleared his throat, as though about to retort, but instead let out a low, amused sound.
They began to make their way up the stone path, which wound between the cliffs towards the prison.

Tonks’ she-wolf walked at her side, lighting the way. And, for the first time, the corridor did not seem so dark. Nor so malevolent. It was just stone, damp, and moss. Just a passageway.

It did not take long for them to reach Kaleg’s cell.
The prisoner was already waiting for them.

He looked thinner, more ragged than the last time. His unkempt beard and the weathered lines of his face spoke of the cold and of resignation. He clutched the bars with a strength he no longer possessed—and that spoke volumes of his desperation.

—We’ve tracked down Baltasar —Moody said bluntly—. Thanks to your information.

Kaleg nodded in silence. Words did not seem necessary.

—I’ll speak to Dawlish —Moody went on—. See if we can secure you a fair trial. And get you out of this place.

—Thank you —Kaleg whispered, barely audible, and turned his gaze towards Tonks.

She nodded back, without speaking. Cast one last look at her former classmate… and followed Moody down the corridor.

The Patronus stayed at her side, faithful, luminous, as a silent guardian of her witch’s emotions.

They had barely taken a few steps when a hoarse, broken voice seeped through the walls.

—Alastor Moody.

Moody stopped with a grunt. Cleared his throat, and changed course.
Tonks turned around.

The cell at the far end of the corridor was little more than another fissure in the stone. Inside, hunched in the corner, stood a ragged man; scraggly beard, tangled hair, skin clinging to bone.
His eyes, however, were alert.
And poisoned.

With unnatural agility, the man seized the bars and straightened, as though eager to display his strength.

—Rodolphus Lestrange —Moody said, with a trace of contempt—. I see prison has agreed with you.

Lestrange laughed.
A hollow, dead, low sound that slipped into Tonks’ mind like a shard of ice. Her she-wolf, alert, moved closer to her, radiating more warmth against the threatening presence.

—Everything turns, old man —Lestrange whispered—. The day will come when you will seek me out and beg for mercy. And none of you… none of you will be worthy.

Tonks felt her stomach tighten.
She knew who he was. She knew what he had done. And she knew what that meant. She knew that, perhaps only a few steps away, another cell held his wife. A woman who, before taking her husband’s surname, had been called Black.

She felt the urge to look. To search for her.
But she did not.

Moody did not flinch.

—We’ll see each other again, Lestrange —he said calmly, turning away.

Tonks followed him, her she-wolf close at her side.
They retraced their steps in silence, back towards the concrete platform. Only the distant echo of the waves and the crunch of their boots on the damp rock broke the stillness.

The mist was beginning to thin, tearing apart into pale wisps. Even the sea seemed calmer.
Between the clouds, shafts of sunlight slipped through like golden fingers, painting patches of light across the stone path, the worn seaweed, and the puddles scattered along the shore.

For a few minutes, it seemed as though even the inhospitable weather of the North Sea was granting them a reprieve. Even in Azkaban, sometimes, the light could still be seen.

Tonks followed him, her she-wolf close at her side.
They retraced their steps in silence, back towards the concrete platform. Only the distant echo of the waves and the crunch of their boots on the damp rock broke the stillness.

The mist was beginning to thin, tearing apart into pale wisps. Even the sea seemed calmer.
Between the clouds, shafts of sunlight slipped through like golden fingers, painting patches of light across the stone path, the worn seaweed, and the puddles scattered along the shore.

For a few minutes, it seemed as though even the inhospitable weather of the North Sea was granting them a reprieve. Even in Azkaban, sometimes, the light could still be seen.

Then her mentor spoke.

—The life of an Auror is easy to idealise —he said quietly, without turning around—. Thrilling missions. Fighting for what’s right. Travelling to exotic places… It sounds glorious, doesn’t it?

Tonks did not reply. She merely stepped up beside him and looked out to sea, her pink hair whipping in the wind.

—But the reality is quite different —Moody went on—. Office hours. Training. Endless watches. Reports… a mountain of reports.

He let out a dry laugh, devoid of self-pity or humour. Just plain truth.

—And then there’s this —he added, with a slight tilt of his head towards the prison looming behind them— No one imagines this when they dream of becoming an Auror. No one pictures themselves… surviving here. Or worse. Getting lost in their own fears.

Tonks looked at her mentor. She saw him in profile, outlined against the grey sky, mist spattering his coat, the uncertain sunlight catching on his scars. For a moment, he did not seem invincible. Just human.

—You know, Tonks —he said, lowering his voice—, I didn’t always have these scars. Or this eye.

She froze.

—The Death Eaters gave them to me —he continued—. Some in battle. Others… when they thought they could break me. And some, when they already had.

Tonks swallowed. She had never imagined he would tell her something like this.

—But I’m still here —Moody growled, a crooked half-smile tugging at his mouth—. And I’ll stay here until the day I die. Not because I’m stronger than anyone else. But because I believe in this: in justice, and in Dumbledore. And because I refuse to let them win.

A larger wave crashed nearby, spraying them with icy droplets.

Moody did not flinch. He simply watched her in silence. Then he nodded slowly, as though seeing something in her eyes that she herself did not yet know she possessed.

—It’s a hard job —he murmured—. A lifelong one. But it’s a job worth doing.

He turned his gaze back to the sea. The wind was picking up again, carrying with it the distant cries of gulls.

—And even on days when you can’t see it. Even when you think this is too much for you… —he paused— think of me telling you this: you’re going to be a great Auror. I don’t have the slightest doubt.

Tonks pressed her lips together. She only nodded, tightening her grip on her wand.

Moody did not expect a reply.

They simply retraced their steps to the Apparition point. The she-wolf circled once or twice, as though savouring the fresh air, before fading away.

Back on the concrete platform, Moody extended a gloved hand. She took it without a word.

And with a clean crack, they both vanished into the mist, leaving behind the rock, the prison, and the clouds that once again closed over the headland.

……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..………………………………………

The piano played with a catchy rhythm.

The notes flowed straight from Lupin’s fingers into the air, filling the small music room with something like peace, light, and colour. He was alone, leaning over the keys, eyes half-closed and his expression serene. The late-afternoon sunlight filtered through the window and brushed his profile, tinting it with aged gold.

When the final chord faded away, a familiar voice broke the silence.

—You’re dangerous, Lupin. You’ll end up stealing Celestina Warbeck’s job.

He looked up, already forming a smile on his lips before he even saw her.

Tonks was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, her hair damp and tousled, yet unmistakably her usual bubble-gum pink.

She looked a little pale, but there was a new spark in her eyes.

Radiant, he thought, without meaning to.

—I suppose your latest visit to Azkaban wasn’t quite as dreadful as the last one —he said, raising an eyebrow.

—Dreadful? —she replied, strolling into the room at an unhurried pace—. It was delightful. Dementors, damp stone, sunlight breaking through the clouds, walks along the beach with Moody… everything a sensible girl could ever dream of.

Lupin let out a soft huff of laughter and rested his fingers back on the piano keys.

Tonks dropped into the same sofa she had occupied a few days earlier, with a lazy sort of grace.
That was when she spotted it: a Honeydukes chocolate bar, carefully placed on the cushion, as though it had been waiting for her.

She picked it up, curious, and glanced towards her companion.

—Coincidence?

—Foresight —Lupin replied, without looking away from the keys—. Eat.

Tonks smiled, tore open the wrapper, and took a bite just as he resumed the melody, this time softer, almost as though he were playing only for her.

For a while, they did not speak.
The music drifted on, the chocolate melted, and the silence between them was comfortable. Until the final chord faded into the air like a candle being snuffed out.

—I like seeing you like this —Tonks said softly, as though she were not entirely sure whether she should say it out loud.

He turned his head to look at her.

—Like this how? —he asked.

—I don’t know… —she shrugged and shifted slightly—. Relaxed. Calm. As if, for a moment, you weren’t carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

She said it with a smile. Not sarcastic. Not playful. Just gentle.

Her pink hair fell carelessly over her shoulders, catching the diffuse warmth of the afternoon, as though it were soaking up the last rays of sunlight.
Her body was at ease, one leg bent atop a cushion, yet her gaze—steady and intent—remained fixed on him.

Lupin blinked, taken aback by the serenity of the scene, which stole an extra heartbeat from him.
For a second, he forgot that it was his turn to speak.

—Music helps —he murmured, lowering his eyes to the keys—. Sometimes it’s the only place where things sound the way they ought to.

Tonks smiled to one side.

—I have no ear for this. No hands. No patience. Once my mum tried to teach me and I ended up playing “Happy Birthday” at a funeral pace.

He let out a brief laugh, as if he could picture the scene perfectly.

—Come —he said, shifting along the bench—. Let’s ruin it together.

She looked at him, uncertain whether he was serious.

—Really?

—Absolutely —he assured her, smiling—. Don’t worry; I’ve enchanted the piano so it won’t scream if you offend it.

Tonks let out a laugh, then sprang to her feet and sat down beside him.

—Very well, Professor —she joked—. Where do I start?

—Something simple.

He took her hand gently and guided it towards a key. Tonks felt a small shiver at the unexpected contact. He seemed not to notice, or chose not to comment on it.

—Start here.

She did, producing a clear note.

—Look at that! I’m a prodigy. Beethoven must be shaking in his grave.

—Or running for his life —he replied lightly.

They played with clumsy scales, fingers missing their marks half in earnest and half in jest, and laughter came more easily with each mistake, lifting the mood.
Tonks leaned over the keys with comical concentration, while Lupin watched—without bothering to hide it—the spontaneous joy that sprang from her with every sound.

After a few minutes, Lupin let his fingers roam across the piano and began another melody, slower and unmistakably his.
Tonks fell silent, letting it wash over her. She recognised the piece at once.

—Path beneath the moon.

Lupin nodded, never stopping his playing.

—Its composer… was called Adrien Rousseau. He wrote it for his wife.

Tonks looked at him with curiosity, waiting for him to go on.

—He was a nineteenth-century French wizard. His wife, Élise, was a Muggle. They met in Paris and fell hopelessly in love. But his family… let’s just say they didn’t approve.

—Let me guess: pure-blood nonsense, prejudice, and all that rubbish —Tonks snorted.

—Exactly —Lupin sighed—. They were opposites in every way. But it didn’t matter. They left everything behind. Eloped one night, travelled the world, and eventually settled in a house near the Loire. He played this every evening, so she would know that, whatever happened, he had no regrets. That he would choose her again.

Tonks remained quiet, thinking about the story. And listening to the music.

—Wow —she smiled—. It’s as if he renewed his vows every night. As though saying “I do” just once was never enough.

Lupin nodded.

—That… is very beautiful —she murmured, leaning slightly towards him.

—Yes —he admitted, with a faint trace of sadness—. It is.

The melody came to a halt, not abruptly, but as though it had simply reached the exact place where it was meant to end.

The late afternoon cast long shadows across the floor, yet there was still enough light to bathe Lupin’s face: the dark circles beneath his eyes, the soft lines on his brow, the tired expression that, in that moment, seemed utterly at peace.

He lifted his gaze and met Tonks’, just as intense as before. But her eyes held something different now. A quiet calm. A full understanding. A tangible complicity that needed no words.

There was something in the air: a reasonable doubt, a timid question, and an answer that did not yet dare to exist.

For a long moment, there was only the two of them, seated side by side—just as close as ever and closer than they had ever been—sharing the look, the twilight, and held together by chords that were no longer being played.

And then, the sharp thud of boots against the wooden steps echoed from the staircase, shattering the silence, the atmosphere, and the music that no longer played.
—Moony! —Sirius’s voice rang down the corridor—. Don’t tell me you’ve caught the artistic fever too.

The spell broke. Tonks blinked and lowered her gaze. Lupin cleared his throat softly, shifting away from her.

Sirius appeared in the doorway with a crooked smile, already preparing his next remark.
But he stopped.

His eyes swept over the scene: the two of them seated on the same piano bench, shoulder to shoulder, the chocolate wrapper still resting on Tonks’s lap, the piano quiet. And for a brief fraction of a second, he hesitated, as if he knew he had interrupted something.

—You? Giving piano lessons? —he said at last, his teasing smile barely masking a flicker of fondness—. That’s a sight I never thought I’d see.

Tonks, sensing the shift in the air and her cousin’s inquisitive stare, lifted her chin and smiled lightly.
—Don’t mock me, Black. I’m two lessons away from dethroning Mozart.

—Sure, sure…

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender as he crossed the room. In one hand he carried a bottle of Firewhisky; in the other, three glasses, which he set down on a side table with a soft clink.

—Before that happens and we toast to it, tell me, how was Azkaban? Still a dream destination?

He dropped into the armchair opposite them and looked at Tonks.

She shot him a mischievous glance, savoring the moment. Straightening on the piano bench, she rubbed her hands together theatrically, preparing to impress.

With exaggerated gestures and a perfectly feigned solemn tone, she embellished the dementors’ mist, the wind on the rock, the icy cold of the prison.

As she spoke, her gaze flicked between Sirius — who nodded and grimaced in all the right places — and Lupin. He said nothing, but listened with that calm, attentive focus that was so entirely his.

She spoke of Kaleg without revealing his true name, and of Lestrange without saying his surname.
She kept Moody’s words to herself.

And she left something else unsaid.

When she finished, Sirius let out an appreciative whistle, clapped his hands once, and poured the three glasses with the ceremonial calm of someone who understood the power of ritual.

—To the relentless Auror Tonks —he said, raising his glass—. And to the days when not even dementors can get the better of us.

The three glasses clinked together.

Tonks downed hers in one go and barely managed to suppress a grimace — but Sirius caught it anyway and burst out laughing.

—That’s exactly what I was hoping for! That face is worth more than a hundred Galleons.

—I’ll never get used to this —she replied, laughing too, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

She glanced sideways at Lupin, still seated beside her, laughing and chatting along with Sirius.

Tonks thought about what she had chosen not to say.
About her Patronus. About why it had shone with such intensity.

She knew it had been the long, grueling hours of training with Kingsley. She was sure of it.

And yet, without quite realizing it, she ran her tongue over her lips, as if she could still taste the chocolate, and glanced toward the window, half-expecting to glimpse the shape of the moon. Her fingers rested on the piano bench, and for a moment, she almost thought she could hear the music — still there, even though it no longer played.

In the air.
Between them.

……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..………………………………………

EXTRA SCENE – SLICE OF LIFE

Molly Weasley returned to Grimmauld Place on a regular basis, determined to establish a routine in which Sirius would learn to cook with the same discipline she had once used to teach her children how to fly a broom.

At first, Sirius rolled his eyes and searched for any excuse to stay alone, lost in his thoughts. But little by little, he began to commit to both the cause and the goal.

They both knew that the real purpose of those lessons wasn’t gastronomy. It was to pull him—if only for a while—out of the storm of thoughts, regrets, and frustrations that trapped him day after day.

And so he silently appreciated those moments of imposed discipline, hard learning, manual work, and a lot—a lot—of practice. Because between sliced carrots, pea stews, and ladles of sauce, his mind finally went quiet.

Still clumsy with a knife but with determination shining in his eyes, he washed and peeled potatoes with the same dedication he would have brought to any mission for the Order. He tried to rely on magic to speed things up, but soon discovered that cooking had rules of its own, and household magic was far from simple.

—If I survive these lessons without losing a finger, it’ll be a miracle — Sirius joked one day, inspecting a small cut he’d earned trying to chop with two knives at once.

—We’ll see if you survive this recipe — Molly replied with mischief.

She, an expert in culinary enchantments, moved the utensils around her as if they were extensions of her own body. All the while, a cauldron cleaned itself in a basin, a spoon stirred sauce briskly in a pot, and her faithful knitting needles worked nonstop beside the fireplace.

Sirius snorted. He was light-years away from that level.

Still, he was content, even motivated. At the very least, he had a goal: to learn how to cook like a professional.

There were even days when he watched the clock, knife and cutting board already prepared, waiting for Mrs. Weasley to appear through the Floo Network with her basket full of ingredients.

—You’re early today — he commented without raising his voice.

—And you’re not drinking. A miracle.

—No need. I got drunk chopping onions — he joked, holding up a full bowl.

Molly huffed with a mix of exasperation and fondness and began unpacking the groceries, lining them up neatly on the table.

—We’re making stew — she announced, handing him a few carrots.

And so the days passed. Chopping, whisking, peeling, stirring… and talking.

Not about betrayals or wars, nor about the past or the future. But about simple things: recipes, the weather, the house, the neighbor’s garden. The latest headline in the Daily Prophet, the kids at school, the pieces of wool Molly knitted without even looking.

Like two ordinary people sharing an everyday hobby.

—Did you add the bay leaf yet? — she asked — less a greeting than a question.

—Bay leaf? — he echoed, blinking — Wasn’t that for Slughorn’s potions?

—For that, and so this doesn’t taste like boiled water — she replied, stepping up to the counter — Move, I’ll do it.

Sirius obeyed with a faint, crooked smile. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his apron hanging from his neck, stained — but properly worn.

—Not bad, Black — Molly conceded after tasting the sauce — At this rate, you’ll be a proper chef.

—And then I’ll open a secret restaurant for fugitives. The Padfoot Cauldron. I’ll be rich.

Molly clicked her tongue with a smile and gave him a gentle nudge.

At that moment, the door opened and Tonks appeared.
She paused for a second at the sight before her, a puzzled smile spreading across her face: pots and pans steaming, ingredients floating through the air, knitting needles working a jumper in a corner, the thick scent of homemade stew…

And, in the middle of it all, her cousin, focused, cutting potatoes by hand, completely absorbed in the task.

—What are you doing? — Tonks asked, amused.

—Sirius is learning how to cook — Molly announced with a hint of pride.

—Well, well… — Tonks said, crossing her arms as Sirius puffed out his chest theatrically — Mind if I join the party?

Delighted by the idea, Molly flicked her wand and an apron flew toward Tonks, who put it on without hesitation. After washing her hands, she took her place beside Sirius, ready to follow the boss’s orders.

Almost immediately, the kitchen descended into even greater chaos, with the young Metamorphmagus chopping carrots with the same concentration she brought to a duel with Kingsley.

—You know — Sirius remarked with a crooked smile — Cooking with you scares me more than Molly armed with her wooden spoon.

—That’s because you’ve never tried my stews — Tonks replied with a laugh, waving her knife in the air.

In a corner, Remus had settled in with a book, calm as ever.
The bustle didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

However, his tranquillity was interrupted when Molly, wooden spoon in hand, cast a curious glance toward Tonks, who was chopping parsley with a skill that surprised everyone.

—Didn’t you know Tonks cooks without magic? — Sirius said, noticing Molly’s look of surprise.

—I had no idea! — Molly exclaimed, turning to the young woman, who looked up at her with an easy smile.

Tonks shrugged.

—My dad is Muggle-born. He loves cooking, and at home he’s always the one who does it. He rarely uses magic. Says it takes all the fun out of it. My mum, on the other hand… well, without magic, she’d probably starve.

Molly burst out laughing, imagining what her life would be like without magic in the kitchen. The idea was utterly absurd. Sirius couldn’t help letting out a mocking chuckle, tinged with a bit of nostalgia at the thought of Andromeda.

—And do you like cooking, Tonks? — Molly asked, casting a curious glance at the Auror.

She paused for a moment, thoughtful.

—I don’t mind it — she said at last — But I don’t usually cook just for myself… In fact, I usually cook with my dad. It’s something we do together when I spend a few days at home. Besides, he’s a genius when it comes to desserts.

Molly lit up instantly.

—Desserts! And what kind of desserts does your father make?

Tonks smiled mischievously.

—A bit of everything — all of it very good. But his chocolate chip cookies are… legendary.

At that moment, Sirius couldn’t resist the opportunity to joke.

—Remus can’t cook — he said, throwing a look at his friend as if he were a small child in the kitchen.

Remus, so focused on his book that he had barely looked up, marked his page and, one eyebrow raised, replied with a hint of indignation.

—Of course I can cook — he said firmly — How do you think I’ve survived all these years?

—Not by cooking! — Sirius shot back with a laugh — What you do is eat what I cook… or survive on chocolate.

Tonks burst out laughing, delighted by Sirius’s remark.

—He’s a chocolate addict — Sirius added with a conspiratorial smile, looking at Remus as if it were the gravest of sins.

Remus let out a long sigh, but his smile betrayed him.
In the end, he couldn’t deny the accusation.

Tonks enjoyed watching their banter, always tinged with that easy camaraderie that could only come from years of friendship.

At that moment, Molly, a spark of mischief in her eyes, looked at Tonks and Remus.
She pointed to a chocolate bar that had been left abandoned on the table.

—What if you two take care of dessert? — she suggested, unveiling her master plan — Why don’t you make your father’s chocolate chip cookies, Tonks?

Tonks looked at Remus, who didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she encouraged him with a playful smile.

—Sure, why not? — the Auror replied, naturally taking the lead.

Remus cast a look that was half reluctance, half embarrassment, but he couldn’t bring himself to refuse that bright, enthusiastic expression.

—Come on, I’ll teach you how to do it — she said invitingly, already smiling as she headed toward the pantry in search of the ingredients they needed.

Finally, he stood up, a little hesitant.

—I have absolutely no idea how to do this — he confessed quietly.

But Tonks didn’t leave him any room for doubt. She seemed delighted by Molly’s proposal. And Remus, though unsure at first, didn’t let the challenge intimidate him.

Tonks explained the steps of the recipe with patience, confidence, and always with a smile on her lips.

—Whisk the eggs, add the sugar and the butter… — she said, demonstrating each step herself with a skill that Remus found extraordinary.

He watched her, impressed and a little embarrassed by his own obvious clumsiness.

But she didn’t give up. Nor did she tease him. She simply encouraged him to try again.

—Try again. This time without dropping the eggshell into the bowl, all right?

Rolling pin in hand, the Auror began to spread the dough across the countertop with firm, fluid movements.

Remus observed her with skepticism… and with the sleeves of his jacket still intact. For now.

Without stopping her work, Tonks turned toward him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

—So tell me… what exactly is your relationship with chocolate?

Remus let out a soft laugh, glancing sideways at Sirius, who was humming to himself and pretending to be deeply engrossed in the potatoes.

—Well, Sirius tends to exaggerate… but he does have a point — he admitted, crossing his arms as he watched Tonks handle the rolling pin with ease — After my transformations, my body ends up… fairly weakened. Chocolate—especially dark chocolate—helps restore energy quickly. It’s almost the only thing I can tolerate during those first hours.

Tonks slowed the motion of the rolling pin. Her expression shifted from amusement to curiosity.

—Really? I’d never thought about it… That actually makes sense. The sugar and all that.

—Exactly — Remus said with a small smile, as if appreciating her understanding — It’s not my only food, of course, but it helps a lot. And besides… — his voice lowered slightly, as though sharing a small secret — it’s genuinely delicious.

Tonks burst out laughing and resumed rolling the dough, spreading it evenly.

—So basically you have a medical excuse to eat chocolate. That’s not fair! Some of us have to restrain ourselves.

Remus laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.

—Well, if it makes you feel any better, my medical excuse also comes with rather complicated full-moon nights. It’s not exactly a fair trade.

Tonks nodded dramatically, as if reflecting deeply.

—All right, all right, I suppose you’ve earned it — she joked.

She took a bit of flour and, deliberately, tossed it lightly at him, leaving a white mark on his jacket. Remus looked down at the stain with an expression of mock indignation.

—Is that how you treat a patient in recovery?

—That’s how I treat someone who needs to relax a little — Tonks replied, winking at him before handing him the rolling pin — Come on, now you try.

Remus accepted the challenge with a resigned sigh and stepped up to the counter.

He gripped the rolling pin with both hands, focused, and took on the important role of rolling out the dough for the first time.

Tonks watched him closely, a soft, complicit smile on her lips that she couldn’t quite hide.

And so, little by little, they both immersed themselves in the task, laughing and occasionally stumbling as the dough stuck to their hands. But the most surprising thing was how well they worked together.

Sirius, observing the scene with a sly smile, couldn’t resist making a quiet comment.

—Well, what a surprise… Even without magic, they seem to be doing pretty well.

Molly silenced him with a simple gesture of her hand. There was something in the way those two looked at each other that reminded her of younger days; of stolen glances and first feelings blooming in the middle of chaos.

When the cookies finally came out of the oven, golden and crisp, the delicious scent of chocolate flooded the kitchen, wrapping everyone in a feeling of homely warmth.

Molly, wearing a satisfied expression, stepped closer to the tray and examined them with pride.

—And without a shred of magic. Incredible! —she exclaimed, crossing her arms in approval.

Remus, still with a bit of flour on his cheek, looked at the cookies with a hint of disbelief, as though he could hardly believe he had taken part in such a culinary feat himself.

He lifted his gaze and met Tonks’s radiant smile, the one she was giving him with unmistakable complicity.

—See? It wasn’t so terrible —she joked, giving him a light nudge with her elbow before taking a cookie and gently blowing on it to cool it down.

The sweet scent of chocolate still lingered in the kitchen as the two of them moved toward the sink to wash the utensils. Between laughter and splashes of water, they shared an easy, natural complicity, as if that simple, everyday moment were only the first of many.

Leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed, Sirius smiled to himself. Lately, those two were getting along a little too well.

He raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Molly, who seemed to be thinking exactly the same thing.

—I have the feeling that today something more than cookies was baked —he murmured dryly.

Molly didn’t reply.
She simply shook her head with a soft laugh before turning back to her task, but the spark in her eyes said more than any words ever could.

Sirius did the same, giving the pair a bit more privacy.

It was impossible to ignore the way Tonks and Lupin looked at each other when they thought no one was watching.
Whenever Tonks arrived at headquarters, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, she always sought him out. And a gentle smile would slip onto her lips the moment she saw him. And although Remus tried to conceal it, his eyes shone with an emotion Sirius had never seen in him before.

Then he would lift his gaze, greet her calmly, and close the book in his hands with unhurried care, giving her his full attention. She would sit across from him, rest her chin in her hands, and listen, letting herself be wrapped in the sound of his voice, the warmth of the shared tea, or the quiet serenity of his company.

Neither of them seemed to have realized yet the intensity of the bond they were forging. That the presence of the other had become something necessary.

Something magical.

And nice.

Theirs was the kind of relationship that didn’t need grand gestures or many words, but one that was woven slowly, without haste, through shared glances, comfortable silences, and delicious cookies.

……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..…………………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Hi everyone!

As you can see, this chapter has two very different parts:
—Azkaban + Grimmauld Place, where I (for now) close the Azkaban arc, Tonks’ training, and her Patronus.
—And an extra scene, more domestic in nature, very much slice of life. I know that, narratively speaking, it doesn’t add much—and that’s because it wasn’t originally meant to be written at all.

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but this fanfic didn’t start out of some “great devotion to writing.” It actually came from an artistic block. Drawing has always been my thing—my favorite hobby, ever—until adult life, with its routines, extra hours, chores, and bills, got in the way. And one day I realized I was sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper, with no idea what to draw.

Day after day after day.

It was incredibly frustrating. So, in an attempt to recover my creativity, I decided to go back to the things I loved when I was younger.

I reread Harry Potter from start to finish. And honestly, if you read it as a kid like I did, I truly recommend rereading it as an adult, because your perspective changes a lot. At least, mine did. And that’s where I got hooked on Lupin, on Tonks, on the Patronus change… and on the feeling that their relationship had far more potential than what we actually got to see.

So I thought: “Okay. If I had to imagine it… how would I do it?”

And that’s how it happened: writing gave me ideas to draw. And, in return, drawing gave me ideas to write.

That’s why this slice of life scene didn’t originally exist as text: it started as a silly little drawing I made one day when I was bored. And, honestly, it makes me happy to imagine these characters getting a moment to breathe in the middle of all the chaos. I wrote the scene afterwards and almost deleted it, but…well, why the hell not? I’d rather share it than let it rot on my hard drive.

You can see the illustration for this chapter on my social media, feel free to stop by Instagram, Tumblr or TikTok.