Chapter 11

The sensible thing. The safe thing.

In the days that followed, Tonks noticed that something had changed with Remus Lupin.
His attitude had slipped back into being distant, almost impenetrable, just like at the beginning.
There was no trace of the smiles that, barely a week before, had lit up his face. In their place, he seemed tense, restless, and irritable. She didn’t quite know what was going on, but one thing she did know for certain: she now fully understood why Sirius called him Moony.

What unsettled her the most wasn’t his reserve—in fact, she rather liked that introspective, reflective side of him—but the uncertainty. Until recently, the connection between them had felt natural, even comfortable. Now it once again resembled a cold, indifferent, purely professional relationship.

In fact, she even had the impression he was avoiding her.
Why? What made him pull away just when they were starting to understand each other better, when it seemed like they might even become good friends?

She had never found it so hard to reach someone.

Yes, she could admit she was intense at times. Tonks had never been one to beat around the bush; she was direct, lively, spontaneous.
But she didn’t feel like she was overwhelming him. They barely crossed paths, and when they did, she tried to approach with care, with ease.
She didn’t think she was doing anything wrong.
Rather, she had the impression it was him—his own fears, his own barriers—that kept him withdrawn.

As if every time she managed to close the distance—even just a little—every time they seemed closer to having a cordial, friendly relationship, he sensed it and, in response, stepped back again, retreating further behind his solid walls.

It wasn’t hatred. Nor rejection. Not even disinterest.
It was something deeper. More deliberate.
Something that made him retreat into himself, as though he needed to protect himself… from what?

She had no idea. But she did know one thing: she wasn’t going to give up that easily.

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It was a quiet afternoon in the kitchen of the Black house.
There were no urgent meetings of the Order, no alarming news from the outside world. One of those rare days when calm settled over the walls of Grimmauld Place, allowing its inhabitants to fall into a routine. Endless chores, cleaning and tidying, but a routine nonetheless.

Only the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the aroma of a stew simmering slowly, and the rhythmic sound of Molly’s spoon stirring sauce in a floating cauldron broke the silence.
It was her day off, and Tonks had spent part of the afternoon helping Molly, Ginny, and Hermione reorganize a cupboard stuffed with expired potions.

The girls had gone off with Ron, Fred, and George to play Exploding Snap, but she had stayed behind in the kitchen, with the vague hope that Remus might wander in.
He didn’t seem to have any intention of showing up.

Instead, it was Bill who appeared in the doorway, his robes slightly disheveled, long hair falling loosely over his shoulders.
“How did the battle against the expired potions go?” he asked with a smile as he poured himself some coffee.

“We found a jar with something that seemed alive. Hermione thinks it was a bottled elf, but my bet’s on a mutant fungus,” Tonks replied with mock seriousness.

Bill laughed, shaking his head as he reached for a cup of tea instead.
“Hope you put it in quarantine. I wouldn’t want to wake up and find it crawling into my bed.”

“Nah, we tossed it into the fireplace. If it comes back, it must have unfinished business in this world.”

Bill shook his head, still amused, and took a sip of his drink.
“If you ever get tired of being an Auror, you could make a living telling ghost stories.”

“Oh, I already do it for free,” she quipped, giving his arm a playful tap before standing to pour herself some tea.

Molly, stirring the cauldron with automatic movements, smiled faintly as she watched them interact. She didn’t say a word, but the brightness in her eyes betrayed how much she liked seeing her son and Tonks talking so naturally.

Bill finished his tea and stood, straightening his robes.
“Well, I’d better get going before someone drafts me into peeling potatoes. Nice seeing you, Tonks. See you later, Mum.”

Molly shot him a warning look, but couldn’t help smiling with affection when her son winked at her on his way out.

“See you, Bill,” Tonks said with a small smile, watching him disappear through the doorway.

Silence settled over the kitchen, broken only by the bubbling of the stew and the tapping of Tonks’ fingers against the table, her mind crowded with questions she had been carrying for days without daring to ask.

Across from her, Molly continued with her domestic magic: potatoes floated in the air, sliced neatly by her faithful kitchen knife before falling into a pan, while at the same time a spoon stirred with precision inside the cauldron.

Tonks watched her from the corner of her eye in silence until, finally, curiosity outweighed hesitation, and she made up her mind to speak.
“Hey, Molly… You know Lupin well, don’t you?”

She tried to sound casual, but the hesitation in her voice betrayed her.

Molly looked up for an instant, one eyebrow arched, without stopping her stirring.
“Of course I do,” she said with ease, though her gaze lingered on Tonks a little too attentively before returning to the stew. “He’s a good man, though far too reserved for his own good. Why do you ask?”

Tonks shrugged, trying not to seem too interested.
“I don’t know. It’s just… sometimes he’s very kind and cordial, and other times he’s defensive, you know?”

Molly let the potatoes fall into the pot with a dull sound and turned toward her. Her expression wavered between concern and tenderness.
“Is there something in particular you’re worried about?” she asked at last, weighing her words carefully.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Tonks said quickly, waving her hands. “Just… I don’t know, I find him intriguing. He seems like a good person, but it also feels like… he doesn’t want anyone getting too close.”

Molly didn’t answer immediately. Her face reflected hesitation, as if she were torn between what to say and what to leave unsaid.

At last, she let out a sigh and turned fully to the young Auror.
“I’m going to tell you something, not because he wants it known, but because I think it’s important you understand,” she said quietly, with the weight of someone sharing a truth that isn’t hers to give. “Remus is a werewolf.”

Tonks froze.
For a moment, the words floated aimlessly in her mind, colliding with one another without order or meaning—until they finally clicked into place.

Molly let the revelation sink in before continuing with care.
“He’s a good man, Tonks. Don’t ever forget that,” she said with warm firmness. “But his condition… it isn’t easy. Society is not kind to people like him, and he’s spent his whole life dealing with rejection. It weighs on him, more than he ever admits.”

Tonks nodded slowly, still absorbing what she had just heard.
“Does he… know you’re telling me this?” she managed at last, her voice steadier now.

“No, and I’d rather you didn’t tell him,” Molly replied, shaking her head gently. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried the unmistakable weight of someone guarding a secret with respect. “Not because he wants to hide it, but because speaking of it is always painful for him.”

She paused, her eyes flicking briefly to the bubbling pot, though her thoughts were clearly elsewhere. When she looked back at Tonks, her expression was more serious.
“Not even all the members of the Order know…,” she continued in an almost whisper. “But I thought you should. You’ve been spending quite a lot of time with him and with Sirius lately, and if you ever have to act, it’s better to be prepared.”

Tonks held her gaze. And in that brief moment, Molly felt a bittersweet tenderness she couldn’t fully name.

Molly respected Remus.
Though she hadn’t known him long, she had come to value him deeply. And though he spoke little, Molly Weasley had never needed long speeches to understand someone’s silences.
He was a good man—noble to the extreme, always ready to do what was right without expecting anything in return. But he was also a lonely man. He had been, for so long, that Molly sometimes wondered if he had stopped imagining a different kind of life altogether.

Without family, without friends close by, without a home of his own, he refused to let anyone in. He built walls around himself with a stubbornness that was almost painful.
And perhaps, she thought, it wouldn’t hurt him if someone tried to break through them.

Tonks… she liked her. She had energy, warmth. She was straightforward. She didn’t scare easily. And her interest in Remus seemed genuine, not idle curiosity.
Perhaps, if someone like her kept trying with patience, he might yield a little. Realize that solitude gave him nothing. And perhaps that would do him good. Remind him there were still good people in the world. People worth trusting.

She pushed those thoughts aside before they showed too clearly on her face.

“Thank you for trusting me, Molly,” Tonks said at last. Her tone was uncharacteristically solemn. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Mrs. Weasley turned back to the stew. She couldn’t help a small, restrained smile.
From the way the young Auror lowered her gaze for an instant, then lifted it again with quiet determination, Molly knew she had done the right thing.
Tonks hadn’t just heard her—she had understood. And Molly, with her unfailing maternal instinct, was certain that, when the time came, Tonks would be worthy of that trust.

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Back in her flat, Tonks couldn’t stop replaying the conversation she had had with Molly.
As she changed into her pajamas, she thought over every interaction she’d had with Lupin in the past few weeks.

In retrospect, everything made sense now—like pieces falling into place in a puzzle she hadn’t been able to see clearly before. His reserve, his distance, the way he always seemed to stand behind an invisible barrier… a shield carefully built to keep himself safe from others—or perhaps to keep others safe from him.

Tonks felt she had come to know him well enough in just a few weeks to be sure he was a good person.
The fact that Lupin was a werewolf didn’t change that in the slightest.
She still saw him as someone intelligent, kind, and composed—someone with stories to tell and a unique way of seeing the world.
One thing she was certain of: she wasn’t going to back away.

She frowned as she sat on the edge of her bed, hugging her knees.
Was that what everyone else did when they found out? Turn their backs? Make excuses? Shrug and walk away, carrying the same old prejudices?
The thought unsettled her.

In her life, Tonks had never been the kind to judge others by what people said about them.
It had been the same with Sirius. How many times had she heard him called a traitor, a murderer, a monster? And yet, once she truly met him, she had found a man who was broken, yes, but also brave, loyal, and profoundly human.

Molly had asked her to keep the secret, and Tonks understood why. Even so, she couldn’t help but imagine facing Remus, looking him straight in the eyes, and telling him she knew.

She bit her lip, recalling a particular moment.
That day in Grimmauld Place, when she had felt crushed beneath the weight of her bloodline—the scorn of the portraits, the oppressive names on the tapestry, the house and the elf—it had been Remus who was there.
He hadn’t only comforted her; he had truly listened. He had understood her. He had even managed to make her laugh when she least expected it.

That was what she wanted to do for him.
No grand gestures, no solemn promises. Just being there, the way he had been there for her.
A steady determination flared within her.

She wanted to tell him.
That she knew what he was, and that it didn’t matter.
That he didn’t need to hide behind those walls he had built—not with her.
That she accepted him just as he was, without hesitation.

She sighed as she slipped beneath the blankets.
She didn’t know exactly how or when, but she would make sure he understood he wasn’t as alone as he thought.
And one thing was certain: she would find a way to reach him.

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The meeting at Grimmauld Place had ended some time ago.
The members of the Order were dispersing with brief farewells, their footsteps echoing down the hall before fading into the street. The murmur of voices slowly vanished, leaving the house sunk once more in that heavy silence that always seemed to settle after each gathering.

Remus hadn’t moved from the kitchen..
He remained in his usual corner, elbows resting on the table, eyes fixed on the reports Moody had handed him. He didn’t look up, as if he hadn’t noticed Tonks still lingering there, leaning against the doorframe, watching him in silence.

It wasn’t the first time she had stayed behind after a meeting, and he couldn’t help noticing how her presence was becoming a constant. He didn’t mind her being there—not at all. In fact, there was something comforting in her vibrant energy, in the way she filled the emptiness of the house with easy remarks and endless smiles.
But he felt her presence as dangerous, because Tonks blurred that invisible line he had taught himself to keep with everyone. And for him, holding that barrier was crucial.

At last, Tonks stepped away from the doorframe and crossed the room.
She sat down in the chair beside him, quietly defying the distance he tried so hard to impose.
“What are you reading?” she asked, her tone light, almost casual.

Remus didn’t lift his eyes from the parchment.
“Nothing too interesting.”

He kept staring at the documents, feigning a concentration he didn’t have. He knew he should keep it short, cut off any chance of conversation. The full moon had left its mark; he was irritable, and he didn’t want to say or do anything he would regret. But Tonks didn’t give up.

“You know,” she went on calmly, propping her elbow on the table, “sometimes I think you spend too much time buried in parchments, and not enough with the people right in front of youu.”

Remus finally looked up. Something in the way she met his eyes unsettled him.
Tonks drew in a breath, searching for the courage to take the next step. And she did.

“Remus… if there’s something troubling you, you can tell me. I don’t know if you realise it, but I’m not going to judge you.”

Her voice was firm, but carried with it such restrained emotion that it forced Remus to press his lips together.
It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t condescension. It was understanding. And in that moment he was certain—she knew.
A pang of dread swept through him as he realised she had already seen more than he wanted to reveal.

“It’s none of your business, Tonks,” he said, his tone colder than he intended.

The smile that so often lit her face faded.
“I only wanted to help,” she murmured, searching his eyes.

Remus looked away.
“I don’t need help. And I don’t need your pity either,” he replied, his voice hardening. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have reports to go through.”

Tonks remained there for a moment longer, unmoving. She nodded, her face composed, though her eyes betrayed a disappointment that hurt more than it should have. Then she rose without another word and left the kitchen.

Remus followed her with his gaze. He shut his eyes and clenched his fists.
“What have you done, Remus?” he whispered, feeling the weight of his guilt.

But the only answer was the crackling of the fire and the silence Tonks had left behind.

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The stillness of the early hours wrapped around him like a heavy shroud.
Remus sat at the kitchen table, elbows resting, hands clasped, his eyes drifting over the documents he had only pretended to review earlier that afternoon.
His mind was lost in thoughts he could not push away.

He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want her to walk away.
But at the same time, he knew that letting her come closer was far too great a risk.
He had learned that lesson long ago.
It was better to keep his distance.
He couldn’t hurt anyone if he never let them in.
It was the sensible thing. The safe thing.

He knew that. And yet, that night, when he saw the disappointment in Tonks’ eyes, the shadow of something very old stirred inside him.
It wasn’t only guilt.
It was longing. A memory buried long ago, one he preferred not to unearth, yet one that had forced its way back into his mind over the past hours.
Lily Evans.

He pressed his lips together, as though his own subconscious had betrayed him by bringing her back.
But there she was—her open smile, her gaze always filled with understanding, something he had never seen in anyone else.
Lily, who had never been afraid of him, not even when others whispered it wasn’t safe to have him around.
Lily, who, with her stubborn kindness and infinite patience, had made him feel he was more than his condition. That his worth was not measured by the curse running through his veins, but by what he chose to be.

He remembered the first time she said it.
He had been a child then, as fearful of his own reflection as of other people.
But Lily had looked at him with those brilliant green eyes and told him, with devastating simplicity:
“You’re not a monster, Remus.”
As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
As if she couldn’t understand how he could ever doubt it.

But the world was not so forgiving.
For every Lily Evans, there were dozens who looked at him with suspicion, who pretended friendship until they learned the truth and then no longer saw him the same.
People who swore it didn’t matter… until it did. Until they left him behind.
He had learned that truth the hard way. And that was why he no longer expected anything.
He would not be carried away by the naïve desire to believe he could be understood once more. Lily had been the exception.
And even she had been taken—torn from this world by a war that never gave them respite.

Since then, he had never let anyone in like that again.
Not even Sirius, not even James or Peter.
Not completely.

And now there was Tonks.
His heart gave an uneasy lurch at the thought of her—her persistence, her inquisitive, determined gaze, the way she came toward him without fear.
Why did she have to be like that? Why couldn’t she be like everyone else and understand that some walls were there for a reason, not out of whim?
Why did she have to look at him with that blend of trust and defiance, as if she refused to accept the distance he himself imposed?

He ran a hand down his face, letting out a heavy sigh.

He didn’t want to be tempted by the thought that maybe, just maybe, he could trust someone again.
Not after everything he had lived through.
Because the truth was that Lily was gone, Sirius was consumed by his own demons, and he was no longer a boy.
In the end, the best thing was to keep away from everything and everyone.
He was fine with his solitude.
It was safe. It was steady. He needed nothing else.

But then… if he was so certain he had done the right thing, why did he feel so unbearably empty?

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Good evening… or good morning!
Yes, I suffer from insomnia too, so in that sense I can really relate to Remus Lupin and his late–night ramblings.

This chapter turned out to be a very introspective one, where things start to get a little more personal. I don’t know if this has ever happened to you: meeting someone who sparks your curiosity, someone you could spend hours talking with, debating, reflecting… or simply sitting together in silence, sharing a cup of tea and watching the clouds drift past the window. That’s what I wanted to capture with Tonks here: that human, deeper kind of interest that goes beyond the obvious.

Something that always strikes me (and maybe I’ve said this before—but with my memory, who knows!) is that Harry Potter is, at its heart, a story about lonely people.
Harry may have great friends, but there’s an inherent loneliness in him and in his story that never quite leaves.
The Hogwarts professors—do they actually live in the castle year–round? Don’t they have families? Partners, children, parents?
Hagrid has his cozy little hut in his own way… but lives only with Fang.
Sirius and Remus are both people the world has forgotten and abandoned.
The only bright exception is the Weasleys, with their chaotic, warm family, which makes them stand out even more.

And Tonks… well, I’ve decided to give her a bit of both.
Yes, she has her parents, and she’s close to them—but outside of that, she’s on her own. She loves her job—maybe a little too much—adores her Auror team and gets along well with her colleagues. She goes out sometimes, laughs during coffee breaks, enjoys herself. But when she comes home… there’s no one waiting in her flat.

I think that beneath the endless smiles, the pink hair and the carefree clothes, there’s also a solitary person. And that, in my opinion, gives her a depth far beyond just imagining her as the young, pink–haired, clumsy girl who falls for a werewolf.

Anyway—those are my semi–midnight musings. I hope I haven’t gone on for too long, and most of all, that you enjoy the chapter.

✨ By the way: I keep posting drawings and illustrations from this fanfic on Instagram and TikTok. Come find me there!