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The storm had rolled in just after dusk, slanting sheets of rain rattling the windows and muttering against the roof tiles. The little cottage seemed to shrink under the weight of the wind, its beams creaking every so often like an old ship at sea.
Remus sat at the table with Teddy beside him, the boy perched on a booster cushion, small legs swinging beneath the chair. Dinner sat before him: sausages cut into pieces, a mound of mashed potato shaped like a little hill, and a scatter of peas that looked very much like emerald marbles.
But Teddy wasn’t eating. His little chin jutted forward stubbornly, his curls darkening to the storm-cloud grey he always shifted into when upset.
“I want Mummy,” he said again, clumsy words tumbling out as though he were trying to wrestle with them. “No din dins.”
Remus exhaled softly, schooling his face into calm even though his chest ached with the same worry. Six o’clock had come and gone. Tonks was never careless about her time, not when she knew Teddy would be waiting. Besides, if even if she did run late, she would've owled by now. The rain was lashing hard enough to slow her journey.. at least, he prayed that was all.
He leaned his elbow on the table and gave his son a small, patient smile. “I want Mummy too,” he admitted, brushing a hand gently over Teddy’s wild curls. “But while we’re waiting, how about a little snack? Just to fill your tummy up, we need you to grow up big and strong, now don't we?”
Teddy eyed him with suspicion. “Snack?”
“Mm.” Remus slid Teddy’s plate a little closer. “A very special one. Sausages and clouds with green beetles.”
The blue haired boy giggled, though he tried to hide it behind his hands. “That’s dinner, Daddy.”
Remus feigned surprise. “Is it? I could have sworn it was a snack.” He speared a pea with his fork and popped it into his own mouth with great ceremony. “See? Delicious snack.”
Teddy picked up his fork, poking at the mashed potato but still shaking his head. “Want Mummy. Where is she?”
The question slipped out so quietly, so plaintive, that Remus’ throat tightened. He reached across the table and took Teddy’s small hand in his larger one, squeezing gently. “She’s alright, love. I promise. It’s just raining very hard, and sometimes the skies get all muddled when it stormy. She might be figuring out a different way home.”
Teddy’s lip wobbled, his eyes glistening in the candlelight. “How you know?”
For a moment, Remus hesitated. Then he reached beneath the collar of his jumper and pulled out the thin chain that hung there. At its end dangled a small charm. Round, simple, but glowing faintly with a steady pulse of warm light.
Teddy’s eyes went wide.
“This,” Remus said softly, lowering the charm so his son could see it properly, “is your mummy’s heartbeat. I carry it with me always. See? Still glowing. That means she’s safe.”
Teddy reached out with both hands, clumsy fingers fumbling around the pendant until Remus gently helped him hold it steady. The light reflected in Teddy’s wide eyes, and he whispered, awed, “Boom-boom?”
“Yes,” Remus murmured, brushing his thumb over the back of his son’s hand. “Boom-boom. Just like yours. She’ll be home soon, love.”
The little boy held the charm to his chest, cradling it like it was the most precious thing in the world. He finally leaned forward and speared a piece of sausage, chewing solemnly as though the heartbeat had granted him permission to eat at last.
Remus sat back, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. The storm still raged outside, but within their kitchen the glow of the necklace cast a warm light between father and son—steady, reassuring, alive.
The storm now rattled the cottage harder, the wind howling like some great beast outside. Teddy was midway through squashing a pea triumphantly into his mashed potato hill when a sharp knock rang against the door.
Remus’ head lifted instantly. Relief washed through him, swift and powerful, but it was laced with something sharper. He knew that knock—hurried, heavy, carrying more than just rain.
He rose and crossed the room, Teddy clambering down from his chair with a squeal of, “Mummy!” before his little feet even touched the floor properly.
When Remus opened the door, the night seemed to tumble in with her. Tonks stood there, drenched to the bone, her hair plastered flat, raindrops racing down her cheeks as though she were carved from the storm itself. She clutched her broomstick in one hand, its bristles dripping onto the step.
“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart” she panted pressing a brief kiss to his mouth, though her eyes flicked to his with a look that spoke volumes. Later, that look said firmly. Not now.
Remus’ stomach twisted, but he stepped aside silently. She kicked off her boots at the threshold and shrugged out of her soaked jacket, draping it over the nearest chair. A flick of her wand dried her hair into a soft tumble of pink, though the damp smell of storm still clung to her.
Teddy barrelled into her legs, nearly knocking her back into the door. Laughing breathlessly, she crouched and scooped him up into her arms, peppering kisses all over his face. “There’s my boy! My big, big boy! Did you eat all your dinner for Daddy?”
“Snack!” Teddy declared, holding up a fork sticky with mash.
“Snack, is it?” Tonks teased, carrying him over to the table and plopping down beside his plate. “Well then, let’s see about this snack.” She pinched a pea between her fingers, squashed it flat into the mash, and offered him a spoonful with a grin. Teddy laughed, finally taking a bite, wriggling happily in her lap.The cottage was warmer with her inside, though the storm still growled beyond the walls. Teddy sat leaning against her chest, squealing with laughter as she pressed kiss after kiss to his cheeks. She coaxed spoonfuls of mashed potato into his mouth, squashing peas flat with exaggerated seriousness so they wouldn’t roll away.
“See? Sorted,” she said, winking at him. “No rogue peas tonight.”
“Mummy’s silly,” Teddy giggled, and she tickled him until he squealed again.
Remus watched them from the hearth, relief tugging at him with every sound of their son’s laughter. Yet beneath it, worry gnawed at him. The way she’d stood in the doorway, soaked and tense, the fleeting look in her eyes. Later. Not now.
He moved closer, crouching down under the pretence of brushing crumbs from Teddy’s chair. Tonks leaned forward to help Teddy with another bite, and for just a moment, the back of her jumper shifted.
Remus froze.
There, stark against the pale curve of her skin, was the unmistakable shadow of bruising. Finger-shaped, dark and angry, stretching across the small of her back.
Something cold swept through him. Gently, so gently, he reached, sliding the hem of her jumper a little higher as though to steady Teddy’s wiggling legs. The fabric lifted just enough to expose the full shape of the mark.
His breath caught, audible this time and his hand came to his mouth.
Tonks stilled. Her hand tightened just slightly around the spoon. Then she turned her head and caught his eye over her shoulder. Her smile didn’t falter... she wouldn’t let it in front of Teddy, but her gaze spoke clear as words. Not now. Please.
Remus let the fabric fall back into place at once, his hand brushing the back of her chair instead. He schooled his expression, forcing calm for their son’s sake. “Careful, Teddy,” he murmured, smoothing a hand over the boy’s hair. “Let's try keep the peas on the plate.”
Tonks chuckled softly, pressing her cheek against Teddy’s curls as though nothing had happened, showering him with another smattering of kisses.
But Remus stayed crouched beside them, close enough that his knee brushed against her leg, a silent vow unspoken. Later, when Teddy was asleep, they would talk. He would know who had done this to her.
For now, he simply laid a steadying hand against the back of her chair, anchoring them both against the storm outside—and the one he felt beginning to gather inside him.
---
After dinner had been coaxed into Teddy’s belly (with much negotiation, coaxing, and more smooshed peas), it was pyjama time.
“Jim jams,” Tonks announced, lifting Teddy down from her lap. “Come on, love, let’s get you sorted.”
Teddy shook his head with a wide grin. “Teddy pick!” he declared proudly, stomping one small foot.
Tonks bent down and smoothed a hand over his wild curls, her voice gentle. “Nearly there, love. Say, I want to pick.”
Teddy scrunched his little nose, thinking hard. “I… want to pick… jim jams!”
"Much better!” she praised, kissing the top of his head. “Go on, then.”
With great ceremony, Teddy toddled to his drawer and pulled out a soft blue set with little trains printed across the bottoms. He clutched them triumphantly before waddling off... not toward his own room, but into the bedroom Tonks and Remus shared.
The two adults exchanged a puzzled glance before following.
Inside, Teddy was busy rifling through drawers, his face scrunched in concentration. He tugged out Tonks’ old Weird Sisters t-shirt faded blue from too many washes, and one of Remus’ thick woollen jumpers, equally blue. He toddled back with both items, dragging them across the floor whilst singing to himself, and plopped them carefully at their parents’ feet along with his own pyjamas.
“Blue… blue… blue!” he announced, holding his hands up and squinting as he pressed his fingers together like he was making a point. “We all same!”
Remus crouched down beside him, heart swelling at the earnest pride in his son’s little voice. “Clever boy, Ted! Very clever.”
Teddy squealed, bouncing on his toes. Then, with absolute determination, he waddled over to Remus, tugging at his jumper to pull it over his head. “You get dressed now, Da.”
Remus chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yes, yes, alright. No escape for me, it seems.”
Tonks laughed too, her hair flashing bubblegum pink at the edges. “No excuses, Lupin. Orders are orders.”
It struck Remus, as he tugged his jumper off in front of his son, how easy this felt. He had never been self-conscious around Teddy... not about the scars that marred his body, not about his greying hair, not about the years that seemed to sit heavier on him than most men his age. Teddy only saw “Da,” and in those eyes, Remus was whole.
Tonks peeled her own top off with a little huff, but she angled herself toward the wall, keeping her back turned just enough. She caught the way Remus’ eyes lingered, the quiet searching in them. He was trying to see again, to confirm what he’d glimpsed before. But she gave him only the line of her shoulder and the curtain of her hair. Later. That look said it again. Later.
Once they were all “blue” as Teddy had decreed, they managed to wrangle him into his train pajamas. Tonks scooped him up, warm and wriggly, and carried him into his little bed. She settled cross-legged on his duvet with Teddy nestled against her, his thumb in his mouth. Remus sat down beside them, the book already waiting on the nightstand.
“Thomas the Tank engine,” he said, his voice low and soothing as he opened the familiar pages.
Teddy’s eyes lit up at once, wide and intent. Remus read slowly, pausing whenever they came to his son’s favourite bits. At each page, Teddy dutifully pulled his thumb out, tracing the little pictures with his small finger, murmuring nonsense words that echoed the story’s rhythm.
Tonks pressed a kiss into his curls every so often, humming softly as his blinks grew slower, heavier.
Eventually, Teddy’s hand stilled on the page. His thumb crept back into his mouth, and his breathing deepened, evening into sleep.
Remus’ voice trailed off into the hush of the storm outside. He closed the book carefully and set it aside. Together, they eased Teddy down into the blankets, tucking him in with infinite care.
For a moment, they lingered, watching him sleep in the candlelit glow, the lines of worry on both their faces softening.
Then they slipped from the room in silence, closing the door with the gentlest click.
In the hallway’s half-light, Remus reached out, catching Tonks’ hand before she could retreat further. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, steady and warm.
Later had arrived.
---
They crept down the stairs together hand in hand, the old wood creaking beneath their feet. The storm still rolled outside, though quieter now, as though it had spent much of its fury. The kitchen was dimly lit by the dying embers in the hearth, shadows pooling in the corners.
Remus didn’t let go of her hand until they reached the bottom. Even then, his thumb lingered against her palm before he turned to face her fully.
“Show me?” he asked after taking a long breath, voice so quiet it almost vanished under the storm.
Tonks kept her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. The tips of her hair faded to a muted brown, betraying her unease. She didn’t answer.
Remus’ heart ached. He reached out, tilting her chin with careful fingers until her eyes finally lifted to meet his. Their foreheads touched, his breath steady against her trembling one.
“Please,” he murmured. “Show me, love.”
For a long moment, she stayed still. Then, wordlessly, she turned. With a shaky exhale, she lifted the hem of her top.
The bruise was there, cruel and distinct: a finger-shaped mark, pressed into her lower back as though someone had tried to pin her down with force.
Remus’ jaw clenched. He swallowed hard against the surge of fury that threatened to spill out of him.
“There’s more,” she whispered.
She peeled herself out of her black Auror trousers, folding them down until she stood only in her pants. On both her thighs, stark against pale skin, were hand-shaped bruises, mottled and dark.
Remus gasped, stumbling back a half step as though the sight had struck him physically. His hand came up to his mouth, pressing there anxiously.
Tonks wrapped her arms around herself, feeling far more exposed than the thin fabric left her. His eyes—those kind, intelligent eyes—were fixed on her with such intensity it burned.
“Don’t look at me like I’m broken,” she said, voice cracking despite her effort to sound firm. “Please, Remus. Don’t.”
Her breath hitched. She hated this—hated the shame that curled in her stomach, hated knowing someone had laid hands on her and left proof of it. She was Tonks, clumsy but strong, always bouncing back. To stand here and admit she’d been beaten... it felt unbearable.
But Remus saw through her, as he always did.
“Come here,” he said softly.
The words cracked something in her chest. She stepped forward, and the moment his arms wrapped around her, she melted into him. Her face pressed into his chest, muffling the sobs she had tried so hard to hold back.
Remus stroked her hair with steady, gentle hands, his heart breaking at every shudder that went through her. He kept his own rage buried deep, tamped down, because right now she needed tenderness, not fire.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair. “Always.”
Eventually, her tears slowed, though her breath still hitched against his chest. Remus kept holding her until she steadied, until the shuddering of her shoulders eased. Only then did he ease back enough to look at her properly, brushing damp strands of hair from her face.
“Does it hurt?” he asked softly.
Tonks swallowed and gave the smallest nod.
He pressed a kiss to her temple, then guided her gently toward one of the kitchen chairs. “Sit,” he murmured.
She obeyed, though her eyes flicked nervously to his as he rummaged in the cupboard for the familiar tin of bruise-healing salve. The little jar was battered, the lid dented from years of use, but it had always been steady in his hands.
Remus came back and lowered himself onto his knees in front of her, the ointment cradled in one hand. He glanced up at her, eyes searching hers. “May I?”
Tonks’ throat worked as she nodded.
He dipped his fingers into the cool salve and then, with exquisite care, began to smooth it over the ugly shapes on her thighs. His touch was gentle, reverent, as though afraid she might break beneath his fingers. The ointment glistened against her skin, slowly sinking in, softening the angry marks.
Remus’ jaw tightened, though his hands never faltered. “Who was it?” His voice was steady, but underneath it ran steel.
“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered quickly. “I caught him in the end.”
He knew better than to press. She rarely gave names because she knew what it would do to him. She knew he would burn himself out with anger, that he would go hunting. She spared him that, as much as she could.
So he let the question fall away.
“How did it happen?” he asked instead, softer.
She was quiet for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then she sighed, her shoulders sagging. “He had a partner. I didn’t see him at first. Came at me from behind. Tried to drag me down. Got a few good grips in before I stunned him. Took both of them down in the end, but…” She gestured vaguely toward the bruises, wincing. “…this still happened.”
Remus closed his eyes for a moment, willing down the surge of fury that rose inside him. When he opened them again, his gaze was only for her... his Dora, who was still here, still safe in front of him.
He finished with the salve, then carefully set the jar aside. His hands lingered, smoothing over the now-cool patches of skin, not to heal this time but to comfort. “You’re safe now,” he murmured. “Safe with me.”
Tonks blinked hard, tears threatening again, but she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, her hand sliding into his hair. “I hate letting you see me like this.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But you never have to hide from me.”
And there, in the candlelit kitchen with the storm still rumbling in the distance, they stayed... her bruises beginning to fade beneath his touch, his love wrapping around her like a shield.
“You should rest,” he said quietly.
Tonks made a face, though it was faint, tired. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he countered gently, leaning forward to press another kiss against her temple. “Let me take care of you tonight.”
Something in his voice, the steadiness of it, melted the last of her resistance. She gave a little nod, letting her arms fall from where they’d been crossed defensively over her chest.
Without a word, Remus rose and slipped his arms around her. She gave a startled laugh as he lifted her clean off the chair, cradling her like she weighed nothing at all.
“Remus!”
“Shh,” he soothed, the corner of his mouth quirking up despite the storm still brewing behind his eyes. “You’ll wake Teddy.”
She looped her arms around his neck, nestling against him as he carried her up the stairs. The house creaked underfoot, the storm muttering against the roof, but none of it touched the cocoon they carried with them.
In their room, he set her gently on the bed and knelt again, tugging off her damp socks with the same tenderness he’d used with the salve. She watched him with a lump in her throat, struck all over again by the quiet reverence he gave to every part of her... even the parts she wished he wouldn’t see.
He smoothed the blankets around her, then kicked off his own clothes until he was left in just his red pyjama bottoms. Sliding in beside her, he pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. His arms wrapped tight around her waist, careful not to press where the bruises lay.
For a while, they lay in silence, the storm’s rhythm filling the gaps. Tonks traced idle shapes against his chest, her fingers trembling faintly.
“I'm so glad I fell in love with you” she whispered.
Remus kissed the crown of her head, lingering there. “Being loved by you and your letting me love you is the greatest privilege of my existence.”
The words cracked something inside her again, and she pressed closer, burying her face in the warmth of him. He stroked her hair, steady and patient, as though he had all the time in the world.
And eventually, as the storm outside softened into a steady rain, Tonks’ breathing evened out in his arms. Her body sagged into him, sleep claiming her at last.
Remus stayed awake a little longer, watching the shadows shift across the ceiling. His fury simmered, cold and sharp, but he held it back, locking it away for another day. Tonight was for her. For keeping her safe, for reminding her she wasn’t broken, for holding her until morning came.
He tightened his embrace just slightly, whispering into the darkness, “Always.”