Children of the Phoenix (4)

Tantia, August 22 1995

Draco is back from Saint Mungo's but still feeling poorly, at least he that's what he told Mother. Now he's in his room stuffing chocolate frogs down his gullet and plotting revenge, while Mother fusses over him like a house elf. Father is again absent. I am hiding in my room. It's raining. Excellent day. Not going to write anymore

Capria, August 22 1995

Last night, Lupin came to my bedroom door. He saw me looking at my mother's photograph and fingering my dark hair.

"There is a reason I normally disapprove of eavesdropping." He said, surprising me.

I turned around, slamming the photograph face down as fast I could, shattering the glass. I was pretty sure Bellatrix was shooting spells at me from the frame.

"Oh, hello Professor." I murmured. "I'm, um, sorry about..."

He smiled, which surprised me. Lupin almost never smiles. Except, for some reason, when he's around Dora. "It's quite all right." He said in his quiet voice. "You never were one for following the rules. May I come in?"

I nodded.

He walked in and sat down on the bench next to me, looking at the shatter photograph. Bellatrix had given up with the spells and was now furiously banging the frame with her fists. I didn't want him to pick it up but he did.

"Once you know" He mused. "Everything changes."

"I feel like a monster," I admitted. "I keep on telling myself it doesn't matter but..."

"But it does." He said quietly. "It always matters."

"How could she?" I almost whispered. "How could anyone?" I thought of Neville and my voice broke. "How will I ever face h-him again." I curled up on the bench, pressing my knees to my chest, fighting back tears. I didn't want to cry in front of Lupin.

I felt his brush a dark lock from were in was plastered to my forehead. I let the tears come then. Because Lupin understood. He knew what it was like to be a monster.

I cried. Lupin didn't say anything. Neither of us did.

After a while, I stopped. Lupin gave me a crumpled handkerchief and I blew my nose. The candles were burning so low that they were nothing but melted stubs, their flames barely keeping the darkness at bay. Outside, the clouds rolled away from the moon and the street lamp's oily glow sputtered and died. Everything was utterly silent. I could taste the tears in my mouth.

I'm not sure how long we sat there. It could have been anywhere from an hour to ten minutes. Everything was dark and quiet and still. The candles burned out, and Lupin lit the fireplace with his wand. For a second, I watched it roar.

"She doesn't define me," I said, at last, my voice shattering the silence. "I won't let her."

I could see Lupin's face in the flickering firelight. He was smiling. "I doubt you would let anyone define you, Capria." He rose from the bench. "You know who you are. And nobody can change that."

"Change who I am, or change me knowing who I am?" I asked.

"Both." He answered softly.

Lupin took out his wand. "I must get back. And you need to get to bed before Dora wakes up." There was a loud crack, and he was gone.

Getting up, I felt exhausted but free. The way you often feel after a good cry. I fell into bed, and sleep claimed me.

It was only this morning that I realized that he called her Dora, not Tonks. Friends call my sister Tonks. Family calls her Dora.

When I came down for breakfast, I met Dora on the stairs. I asked her if she had a boyfriend. When she said no, I asked her if her boyfriend was a werewolf. She tripped.

That girl just gets clumsier every day.