Hand over Hand

Tonks did not reveal to the Ministry that Harry had not only accepted her owl, but replied promptly. The Minister would have taken it as a personal affront rather than a small measure of progress. Worse, the gossip would begin again, and Tonks had scarcely contained her ire during the last round. Harry ought to have been a big deal in the working of the Ministry, at least that had been the expectation. Still was, for some a bit too dense to recognize the cause of his reluctance. He'd fought in that place, lost people dear to him, uncovered too many secrets, been condemned. In fact, there were few places in either world where some ill had not befallen Harry. Including and especially the one before her.

Teddy tugged at her hand. "Shouldn't we ought to knock, so Uncle Harry knows we're here?"

She smiled down at her son. "He knows, Teddy. See, the door's opening now."

Teddy raced down the path. Before the door could even cast a shadow in the morning light, he flung himself through it.

"Oof!" The voice did not belong to Harry.

Tonks clutched her wand and lunged for the house, only barely remembering that Harry had asked her to keep a low profile. "Too late for that, isn't it?" she said under her breath.

Teddy stepped back, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked up with a fierce scowl. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Harry?"

Brave, crazy child. Tonks pulled up short and waited to hear the answer.

"Well, sprog, I'm Dudley. This is my house. Harry's my cousin. And you need some manners."

Tonks managed to keep her hair from catching fire at the audacity of Dudley Dursley telling anyone to mind their manners when he'd been such a beastly child himself. She patted at the wisp of smoke that came from a loose tendril. Someday, she'd have complete control again.

"But as it's the first time we met," Dudley continued, "and I think you were worried about Harry, I'll let it go this once. Next time, you'll be less threatening, yeah?"

Teddy nodded solemnly.

"That's all right then." Dudley looked up. "Why don't you and your mum come in. Harry has tea on, and I'm sure I smell bacon. If I'm lucky, he's made some for me, too."

"Cannibalism doesn't bother you?" The words came out before Tonks could stop them.

"I've had a bit of time to get over my earlier... attachments. A couple of surgeries and I'd all but forgotten it." Dudley held the door open to welcome her, as if he had not just laid down the most gentle rebuke Tonks had ever received.

She blinked stupidly at him, then remembered how to walk.

"Mind the step," Dudley said at the exact moment her heel caught on it. He reached out to steady her, then stepped back and let her pass. "He's in the kitchen."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Teddy creeping up the stairs.

Dudley waved her off. "I've got the boy. You go do whatever it is you people do."

"Such as eating breakfast?" Tonks quipped.

"If that helps." Dudley followed Teddy without looking back. A few seconds later, the boy shrieked, then burst into a fit of giggles in the upstairs hall.

When she entered the kitchen, time seemed to stop. Harry stood with his back to her, humming. The loose shirt could not hide the ripple of muscle as he reached up. She didn't know what he sought, as she wasn't capable of taking her eyes off him. A flash of skin at his waist opened up a book of memories - Harry wandering around the ward at night, shirtless and frail, half asleep, muttering; Harry standing at the window with a moonlit halo, his smile a ghost in the glass; Harry silent and steady, one hand on the back of a child in the grips of his first nightmare. She was suddenly glad he had not been facing her when she came in, or there would have been an entirely different set of memories.

"You've been working out." Stupid statements were apparently going to be the hallmark of her day.

"I found it helped." He flipped eggs one-handed and slid them onto a plate. "Have some, if you're hungry."

She shook her head, then realized he couldn't see her. "I'm set, thanks. Wouldn't mind if you'd leave some bacon for Teddy, though."

Harry turned to look for the boy. A loud thud and another squeal answered the unspoken question. "Keeping him busy. What a clever lad."

"Dudley, or Teddy?" Tonks asked.

"Either. Both." Harry leaned against the counter as he ate breakfast.

Tonks stared out the door, eyes slightly unfocused. It was safer that way. "So, you want me to reinstate all the prohibitions on traveling to this place that Pius Thicknesse laid down during the bad old days of Voldemort's Ministry."

"Ironic, I know."

"Only slightly more so than you helping Dudley do anything to this house but destroy it."

"I'm attempting to let go of past hurts." It sounded like something from a brochure for a rehabilitation program.

"How's that going?" she asked.

He placed the plate in the sink. "I'm not quite ready to visit Azkaban with forgiveness in my heart, but I no longer want to kill Draco."

"Not a bad start," Tonks conceded. "Would you stop someone else from killing him?"

Harry shrugged. "Hard to say. Is that terrible of me?"

"I'm not one to judge. I routinely conjure up replicas of Bellatrix just so I can destroy them."

"Statues, or something less substantial?" Harry asked.

"Ceramics make the best sound, but any pottery will do."

"Huh. That has potential."

"I'm full of good ideas," she said.

"You always were." The heated look in his eyes froze her to the spot.

"Not always," she protested.

"Often enough." He moved toward her, slowly and at an angle, as if afraid she'd bolt.

His cautious approach sparked more memories, the ones she'd labeled 'crawling out of the pit.' They'd helped each other find a hold, offered a hand up when footing seemed impossible because no one else could see the hole they were in. She'd never thanked him, or if she had, she couldn't recall. He had thanked her until she'd made him stop. That had been the first time she'd put her fingers on his lips. He'd kissed her palm and held onto her hand and said nothing. It had taken a long time for her to admit she loved him, but that had been the moment she knew it.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. Before, when I left." As if he could have meant anything else.

"Wasn't the leaving that hurt," she replied. "I understand the need to go to ground, to deal with the demons in your head. Nimue's tits, Harry! I, of all people, understand. It was not coming back that caused the damage."

"I suppose it's too late, now."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You'd have to travel a long way, I'm afraid." About six meters, but she wasn't inclined to make it easy by telling him so.

"I'm also trying to practice patience," he said with a grin.

"I have the perfect program for that."

He cocked his head and waited for her to go on.

"Spend time with a five-year-old, on a regular basis, especially if there is something you absolutely must get done during that time. You'll learn right quick how to keep your cool long enough to distract a miniature person whose mind works far, far faster than you ever remembered yours doing when you were a tyke. Then, when you've figured out exactly what to do to get a sliver of time to yourself, everything will change, and you'll be forced to start again."

"Is that your way of inviting me over?" he teased.

"Depends. Do I have to stay?" she shot back.

"I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do. You don't take well to that." He kept his distance while still closing it. "Most of the time, anyway."

She suddenly wished there was a table between them, something to keep him from getting close enough to touch. It would be all over, then. She knew agreeing to this had been a bad idea. And yet, she would have been devastated if he'd gone to anyone else. Therein lay the crux of her problem. She simply could not turn away from him, much less let him go, but it was damnably hard to keep him.

"I don't know what to do with you," she blurted out.

"You did, once." There were layers and layers beneath those words.

"It didn't work out the way I expected." She backed away as he advanced.

"Nothing ever does go according to plan, but that doesn't make a good idea bad. Maybe all it needed was better execution."

"Oh?" She ran out of room to retreat.

"Mmm," was all he managed before his lips were on hers, gentle, warm, familiar. The world fell away at the touch of his mouth, the tangle, heat, pressure, strength.

"Oh," she sighed.

"Pity there's no bed in this house," he murmured against her neck.

"There are two other people here," she squeaked.

"There is that." His breath tickled her ear.

"And I ought be telling you how very upset I am with you." Which might have been easier without the ache of need that suffused her.

He kissed the edge of her jaw. "I am sure you will berate me with alarming frequency."

"The knob on the cupboard is digging into my back." Words she hadn't meant to say broke the spell they had begun weaving without thought.

He stepped back. "I didn't... I mean..." He shut his mouth and clenched his fist.

"If you try to tell me you kissed me by accident or lied to me about being sorry you buggered off without even leaving a note, then I will be forced to challenge you to a duel right here. And you're more than a little rusty."

He stared at her for a moment, fingers twitching toward his wand.

She held her ground until she saw his shoulders drop. Only then did she consider the danger of threatening him, even if he ought to know she would never do him harm.

"I am out of practice," he admitted, "with just about everything."

She folded her arms and leaned back against the cabinet. The knob struck a knot in her back and she hissed. "You may want to do something about that."

"I thought I was."

She licked her kiss-swollen lips. "That patience thing you were on about earlier? Start with that."

"I expect it to take me a very long time to perfect."

"You let me know when you've got it down."

"Oh, I think you'll know." His smile held too many promises.

From above came a thump, a roar, thundering footsteps, and peals of laughter.

Tonks looked up and shook her head. "We may want to start working before your cousin arrives and gives you grief about blushing like a schoolboy." She turned her back on him and began tracing wards.

"I am not blushing," Harry said firmly. "And I wasn't even a boy when I was supposed to be."

She ignored the last statement, as they both knew it to be true. "It's just a bit warm in here is all. Nothing to do with you pinning me against a wall and kissing me."

"Concentrate," he growled, and she could feel his magic building up. "This is serious business."

"As it pleases you," she said in her huskiest voice.

He choked on the words of a simple alarm spell, cursed, and started again.

She laughed and finished her ward without saying another word.

For itchyfoot, who let me play with her idea.