Work Text
No crack of Apparition disturbing the quiet of the early evening, Tonks wondered how far Snape had walked to reach Grimmauld Place when he strode into the square. A memory all but hidden in the fog of tiredness gave shape to the notion that his satchel likely contained Remus’s Wolfsbane and her gaze slid back to the bank of fallen blossoms where the road met the pavement.Snape walked past where she sat on the cold stone stairs and up onto the landing. “Banished to the naughty step?”“Something like that.”“What did you do?”“Tried to help Molly. Ended up breaking a clock and nearly braining Sirius.” Tonks gave an empty laugh. “I thought I better get out of everyone’s way. Technically I’m checking counter-curses in the library.”“It’s bad luck to break a clock, isn’t it?” said Snape. “Though one can’t help but sympathise with a desire to brain Black.”“Yeah, well I’m bad luck walking.” Tonks pressed her boots hard against the step and rubbed the spot above her eye which always ached when exhaustion was sinking its claws into her. “I was born on Friday the 13th.”Snape cast a Muffliato towards the front door where a serpentine brass knocker gleamed in the golden hour. “Stand up.”Seven steps and a landing; out in the open yet completely concealed. Her life spent noticing. Spent looking over her shoulder then looking again. And pedestrians walked past, their gazes sliding from number eleven with bottles of milk still by the door to number thirteen where a lost glove had been slid onto a finial of the fence which ran along the edge of the pavement.She took her time turning to look up at him, squinting against the evening sun, and found him leaning against the balustrade. “I don’t take orders from you.”A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he inclined his head towards her. “No,” he conceded. “You don’t.”The glint of light in his hand drew her gaze to the small jar he was turning in his fingers. A cool breeze picked up strands of her hair and swept them across her face as she slowly rose. When she turned and stepped up onto the landing, her feet caught on her rippling cloak and she stumbled. The dropped satchel rattled in surprise when it hit the stone and his arms were around her.She held onto his robes and the weight of her in his arms lightening as she found her footing was an exquisite agony. His quarters empty without her, sleeping alone a marker she hadn’t come; the past without her definite, now his days were defined by her absence.“How?” he murmured.Her grip on his robes fumbled and she flexed her fingers. “I'm tired.”“Not sleeping well?”Deep in her bones, the weight of exhaustion nothing like the sweet heaviness of his body against hers. Now he wasn’t there when she woke, a different kind of grief stirring when she came too from nightmares. She had mastered legion counter-curses but could find none which knew his words.Still with one arm around her waist, his wand a distinct pressure against her back, he brought his other hand between them and held the jar against her body. A meadow of yellow and purple blooms, her cold hand came to his, fingers moving slowly across the ridges and valleys of him.“Bruise paste,” he offered.Two school children walked past, laughing together and shoving each other. She watched them run up the steps of a house several doors down and go inside. “You keep it on you?”She could hex him before he pressed his lips to the sweet spot beneath her ear but temptation still swirled in him. “Sometimes the potions get excitable.”The echoes of metal and fire on his clothing, she breathed in the place she longed for and glanced at the knot of his cravat as she slipped the jar into a pocket of her robes. “Thank you.”“I haven't seen you for a while.”“Missed me?”He shrugged.“You said war makes fools of lovers.”A fortnight earlier, getting ready in the morning and helping her with her bra though she disputed his definition of helping. Then came her amused query of whether or not she should call him her lover when people asked who she was spending her spare time with. He hadn’t been able to stop his answer. Hadn’t been able to stop how it froze her body. How his hands fell from her and how they shared no more words while they finished dressing. And then she was gone with a rushed farewell and shining eyes.Leaning closer, he brought his lips to her ear, and hesitated for a moment. Always playing with fire and he knew he could burn them both instead of melting the ice he’d put in her heart. By the slightest turn of her head she let herself rest against him. Her inhales and exhales across his neck tantalising reminders of different embraces, his hand swept slowly around her body.“When you come,” he murmured, “your eyes flicker black.”Her sweet groan of laughter kept him there.Kept him from being able to meet her gaze.Her hands on his face, she brought him back to her and asked, “What does peace make of lovers?”“Fools,” he whispered, searching her dark eyes which flickered no more than did the depths of night.“Oh.” The brief echo of pleasure in the shape of her mouth was stolen by her pained smile. “Well, in that case.”Wand tight in his grasp, pressing his thumb hard into the carvings on the handle and his other hand into the small of her back. “Tonks.”“I know we can’t be anything.” She turned from him and his arms slipped from around her as she stepped away, the tip of his wand tracing the curve of her back. Her head darted up as someone dashed, their arms full with bags, down the steps of number fourteen to their car. The sunset was giving all its riches to the sky before night could declare a victory and she stared at the car as it left the square. “I know that, Severus.”Reaching for her.Catching her fingertips with his.And she didn’t flee at his touch but turned to look at him.Then she flung her other arm out and he grasped her hand. Finding everywhere her feet connected with the ground, finding the lines of her body, she grappled for steadiness and deep breaths.“How much sleep did you get last night?”Being useful and battling fatigue easier than facing her empty bedroom, the Order and the Ministry were content to keep her busy. To keep her anywhere but her own head.“Let me rephrase that,” he drawled, pulling her easily back into his arms. “How much Invigoration Draught have you had in the last twenty-four hours?”“I’m not the Occlumens you are.”“I know.”Her hands on his body, his heartbeat under her touch. She wanted to rest. To have the safety of silence with him. To have her head on his shoulder and sleep in arms.And the sound of footsteps was closing in on them from inside the house.She cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself as he stepped forward and swept her behind him. There was a soft scrape of leather against stone as he summoned the satchel. Day’s end in their favour, the light just right to help hide what small tells might give her away. Back to back, she bit her newly healed split lip and winced.The door opened with only mild protest and the aroma of Molly’s hearty stew wafted across the landing with a burst of warm air which rushed outside only to be startled by the growing cold.“Oh, Severus, hello,” said Remus. “I was looking for Tonks. You haven’t seen her have you?”“Should I have?” Used to strategies and tactics enough to fill a library and she was leaning against him and he knew of nothing with which to assuage the uncertainties.“No. No, I suppose not.” Remus gave a short sigh, and said quietly to himself, “I’ll owl her.”“Your Wolfsbane,” said Snape, handing the satchel to Remus.“Thank you,” said Remus, pulled from his thoughts. “Thank you. You know how much—how I appreciate you continuing to brew this for me.”Knowing the civility needed to be put out of its misery before Remus risked extending an invitation to dine with everyone, Snape said, “I’m required elsewhere.”Remus nodded, expressed his gratitude again, then closed the door. Muffliato back in place, Snape listened to the retreating footsteps until they disappeared. Tonks lifted the Disillusionment Charm and he reached for her, taking every advantage of her stumble when she turned and pulling her into his arms again.“Come back with me and rest awhile.” He brushed strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “I won't try even to kiss you, but let me see you safe for a few hours? A truce.”“Please don't say that.” Her gaze drifted to the small park in the middle of the square. Birds flitted back and forth from the chimney pots and eaves to the trees and she lingered there for a moment before coming back to him. “Please—I don’t—it's not a truce I want with you.”Hand under her chin, his thumb on her mouth, her lips parting at his touch. “You said that if we survive—”“I know,” she said, her voice breaking. “I know what I said.” In the haze of their climaxes, when he was still in her, he'd kissed her neck and the words escaped her. “I meant it, too. I still do.”“If not a truce—”She sought his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. “It’s officially peacetime but we both know it isn’t. So if we can only have today, and maybe tomorrow, then that’s—that’s okay. I just know I want those days with you. I want giving whatever this is a chance and for trying to not be a folly.”“Will you stay with me tonight?”“Will you try to kiss me?”“I intend,” he said, “to try a great many things.”Tonks laughed and leant against him.“Perhaps, once you've slept, we could discuss tomorrow night?” Her head on his shoulder, he kissed her neck, then murmured, “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what the rules are or—”“One day at a time,” she said, softly. “That’s all I’ve got.”“And the nights in between?”“Those, too.”“Tonks?”“Yes?”“Don’t let go.”She squeezed his hand and with a twist of his wrist they Disapparated.