T is for Tonks

Chapter 21 - Here It Was They Lit The Flame.

Elated as she was to have Remus back, their happiness was not long lasting. Thankfully, he wasn't too battered when he sneaked into Grimmauld Place two nights later, just as the milkman was starting his round. Tonks had been snuggled up in bed, in a dreamless sleep, when cold finger tips at the bare skin of her hips awoke her. The overwhelming smell of wet dog was welcome, as was his stubble which scratched at her skin as he buried his face in her neck. 

It was like her stomach was a cage full of Cornish pixies, and she hoped he couldn't sense her anxiety. He might have gotten the wrong idea. 

"Remus?" decidedly, she couldn't wait until morning.

"Hmmm?" Her partner sounded inches away from a well deserved sleep. He hadn't even bothered to change himself out of his muddy clothes before he had dived into the bed. 

"I have news." Tonks wriggled her toes to dissipate some of her anxious energy. 

"Mmm?" 

"Mad-eye said we can go and visit my mum and dad." 

"That's brilliant, Love." He sounded genuine, but immensely tired. Tonks gave him the benefit of the doubt. He had just been through possibly one of the most terrifying ordeals a man could go through. Tonks just squeezed him tighter and pulled the sheets tighter around her body. 

As they say. All good things must come to an end. 

________

That laugh. It was more of a cackle. It rattled through her brain like the wind tearing through an old shed. It haunted her. Just like the face that was etched behind her eyelids. A heart shaped face, much like her own, that had the pallor of a cadaver. The eyes were far too sunken and lifeless. There were black bags that shadowed them that told a story of malnourishment. Even the eyes themselves were those of a mad woman. Her skin clung to the bones of the cheek, and was gathered on the forehead in wrinkles that did not reflect the age of the woman, but maybe her experiences. Above all, was the matted mass of hair that had become its own entity. It was a greying black, perhaps an inherited trait from the bloodlines of her family. But the laugh, still echoed around her head. unending shrieking. Enough to send someone mad. 

Even in her fever dream, the world was depleted of color. There were blacks and greys and whites, and even emerald greens and bog water brown, but no pinks or reds or yellows. She was in a large manor house, which looked like many of the pure blood houses that Tonks had seen out on patrol. It smelt oddly clean, like antiseptic, even though there was layers of dust and cobwebs everywhere. They were in a grand room with a fireplace big enough to fit 4 or 5 large men inside of it. Even the fire had no color or no heat; it was monochrome. The elegant glass chandelier that hung from the ceiling was lit with candles, but it did not glitter like glass should in the light. Instead it cast long shadows over the room. The furniture was made of thick brown leather and looked uncomfortable in the way that expensive furniture usually is. She noted the bookshelves that lined the room and though the dirt of them was odd. The only reason why someone would have that amount of books and not read them is to show off their pompous collection. There was a tray on the petite coffee table with numerous crystal decanters and glasses, filled with liquids that Tonks could not decipher without smelling or tasting them.

She suddenly understood the reason why she felt so out of place. 

Gathered together as if for a family photo was the Black family. Walburga Black stood in the center, out shadowed by her taller sons. She wore a black hat that had lace shielding the front of her face. Was she in mourning? To her left was Regulus Black. Or what Tonks's mind perceived to be Regulus Black (she had  never met him). He was taller than Sirius and skinny. His face also looked hollow but his hair was slicked back into a perfectionists quiff. Like the other men, he wore a black mourning suit. Sirius was stood with his hand on his mothers shoulder, a genuine smile touched his lips and Tonks knew that something was not right. Shockingly, her mother was present, with her thin face and greying black hair. She looked stoic, and proud. For a woman of such small stature she looked like she held an unearthly amount of power. Beside her, her sisters. As though they had never fought a day in their life. Each other them were with their spouses. Narcissa looked elegant next to her husband, Lucius Malfoy. He wore a black death eaters mask and underneath the sleeve of his suit Tonks could see his dark mark. The only way she could tell it was him, was because of his serpent headed cane. Draco, the Malfoy boy, also wore a mask like his father.