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Watching Remus work up close was always a revelation of sorts for Tonks. Though she had known quite well that he was an excellent duellist and strategist, knowledgeable in all aspects of Defence Against the Dark Arts, what she didn’t always get to observe was how much more he could do.
The copies of blueprints and other maps, acquired from the archives earlier that morning, were spread out over the small table in Tonks’ flat. It was ostensibly intended to be a dining table, but more often than not, it was used as a work surface in lieu of a desk. When she had asked curiously why blueprints were necessary if they had maps, Remus had quietly pointed out that knowing the structural composition of a building was quite different to knowing where places within it were located. For example, in the case of King’s Cross Station, it was quite easy to know where the platforms were, they were clearly labelled with the obvious exception of Platform 9 ¾. However, it was much more difficult to know how to navigate the station using alternative methods from a simple outline; for example, if they needed eyes above, it was useful to know where there were places in the roof that they might be able to use, or railings where someone might be able to settle and keep watch over the surrounding area, which was the primary reason that the blueprints were required. It was a point well-made, and Tonks had given him an appreciative nod, one that deferred to his experience in that area.
Within less than half an hour, it had become startlingly apparent why Remus had been handed the task of cross-referencing known locations of Death Eaters with potential attack sites, had more often than not been correct. As sharp lines were drawn and crossed in pencil, markings made in colours that illuminated softly from his wand at different points on the sheets of paper, it would have been quite easy to forget the purpose of the exercise and simply watch him work; the graceful movements of hands over paper in the early morning light, while mugs of tea made soft curls of steam into the air. Instead, Tonks questioned him. “So based on the platform that Rowle and Yaxley got the train from, you think that it might become a regular occurrence for exchanges?” When it took Remus a moment to answer her, it was sharply evident that they’d both had disturbed sleep, were still tired despite being awake nonetheless. “Yes, though what the exchanges entail as of yet, I’m not certain.”
Sipping the tea, Tonks folded her hands around her mug, stretched slightly in an old Weird Sisters t-shirt in a faded shade of purple and the grey pyjama bottoms that had served for sleep attire as she considered the matter. Remus by contrast was clad in a pair of standard issue Ministry sweatpants that she had produced from a drawer and charmed to his size, and a plain, dark blue men’s t-shirt that she’d bought strictly for comfort purposes and often wore as a nightshirt. It had been over-sized enough that it fitted him easily, was in fact a little large for him as well. “That briefcase the other chap was holding,” Tonks said slowly. “It wasn’t big enough to hold anything sizeable, not unless the thing had an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. And that’d be too risky for anything fragile…” The words trailed off as her mind began to turn. Remus, who had been watching her closely, didn’t immediately question her, evidently sensing that she was on a thought trail that it was best not to interrupt.
“The potions warehouses; the product would still need to be checked on, samples produced. Do you think…?”
Blue eyes widened in response to the words, clearly following her thoughts. If Rowle was, as suspected, a primary administrator for the warehouses, it would make sense that he needed to check the product being produced. “If you’re right, Tonks, then we need to get hold of their accomplice, and quickly.” Looking back to the maps, he added quietly, “And I think I might have an idea of where to look for him.”
Her eyes flicked to his face, just in time to catch the brief flash of something very close to self-loathing and the soft mutter of, “I should have known.”
“Remus?” she asked softly.
A weary smile greeted her in response. “I highly doubt that our opportunistic friend would operate anywhere openly in relation to potions, if he’s involved with the likes of Rowle and Yaxley. That would suggest he either works out of his own home, or somewhere that such activities would be overlooked or more easily hidden.”
“You’re talking about Knockturn Alley.” It should have been obvious, and it didn’t take Tonks long to come up with a reason for the expression she’d seen cross Remus’ face. When Wolfsbane came in, there was no way he would have been able to afford the ingredients easily, like most, they cost a fortune and most people can’t brew it easily or well. That means he would have had to find alternatives in order to take it. Eyes steady on his face, there was no judgement in her expression, nor did she question him, it wasn’t her right or her place.
“No one will be surprised by my presence there, Tonks, but you…”
Tonks nodded in response, and then took a deep breath. “I’ve one or two ideas that should keep people at a careful distance.” There had been more than one instance in which Tonks’ mixed heritage had been useful; she knew enough of Muggles to successfully pass if need be, and enough of prejudiced purebloods to know which expectations to play upon if it became necessary. She would put that to use, as and when they made their trip to Knockturn Alley. “I think we should go in the evening, though. There are places open in there after dark that aren’t available during the daytime.” Noting the hint of surprise on Remus’ face, because that clearly wasn’t information she’d picked up peripherally, Tonks smiled wryly. “It’s not my first time in Knockturn Alley, Remus, not by a long shot. It’s not even the tenth. I know what to expect, and I’m pretty sure there’s worse that neither of us have seen yet.” And then, teasingly, in an imitation of Molly Weasley that verged on affectionate, she added, “Now drink your tea before it goes cold.”
It had the desired effect. Though Remus didn’t laugh outright, she saw his sudden smile disappear behind the rim of the mug. Assured that he seemed more settled, Tonks got to her feet. “Toast?” she asked, padding towards the kitchen, mismatched socks slip-sliding over the floor when she entered, forcing her to pause a moment to right her balance. “Or, there might be some bacon in here, let me check…”
“What time are you on shift today?”
Tonks stilled where she stood, momentarily rattled by how ordinary the conversation sounded, as though they got up together and did this every day, as though it was part of all the other routines that they’d established in the time that they’d been watching Rowle. “Somewhere around midday, I’ll finish up around nine and come join you on duty as usual. We’ll have to consult with Mad-Eye and the others before we attempt Knockturn Alley.” Her own voice sounded distant, her thoughts twisting and turning back on her. And there it was again, the odd sense of parody, as though their normal was this, pinpointing Death Eater locations over tea and toast after a disturbed night’s sleep. The thought that followed was uncharacteristically wistful. Maybe this is all we’ll ever get to have, snatched moments between battles like this.
“Tonks? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Remus, just wondering where the bloody hell I put the tomato sauce. This kitchen isn’t big enough for things to hide from me as frequently as they do.”
I’d rather have this than nothing at all.