A Very Snappy Birthday

Thanks to my beta, Cherry, who read it not once, but thrice!

He was waiting outside the dining room of Grimmauld Place – his house – where an Order meeting was taking place. At the first meeting after the Headmaster's death, his two best friends had become full members of the Order – he couldn't as he wasn't of age yet. His seventeenth birthday finally arrived, and here he was, waiting for his first Order meeting – afterwards he hoped they'd have drinks and cakes and, perhaps, a bit of fun, a bit of relief. After what seemed like ages, Lupin opened the door, a malicious smile on his lips.

"You may come in, Mr. Potter!"

Minerva McGonagall was more pompous than her usual self.

"Mr. Potter, I am proud to inform you that you're now a full member of the Order of the Phoenix."

Ron and Hermione were beaming; Moody gave him a Dumbledorish wink; Molly Weasley tried, without too much success, to repress a sob; an empty seat beside Lupin showed that Tonks was probably late, as usual; and Hagrid's hug left him breathless.

"Good, good," said McGonagall, "shall we proceed, now? We have some important matters to discuss today. But while we're waiting for Nymphadora... that is, unless she got trapped in Mr Weasley & Weasley's new invention..." Sitting side by side in a corner, the twins smiled proudly; the previous week, she had been taken hostage by two of their Charging Chairs. "... meanwhile," McGonagall continued, "Mr. Potter, I think you should be informed of the latest developments. "

All the happy faces sobered at once.

"Since the Headmaster's death, some information has come into our possession, which proves, beyond doubt, that what you saw on the Tower that night, Harry... might need to be... reinterpreted."

Harry couldn't remember ever seeing his former Head of House embarrassed and at loss for words before. It took him a few seconds to actually understand what she could mean... but she couldn't mean it, could she?

"Severus did... what he did, at Dumbledore's request, Harry. He is working with us."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Harry yelled, and shot up out of his chair, almost knocking it over. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't be. He was rambling on, hardly knowing what he was saying. "It can't be, I saw him – the look on his face – he killed him, I saw it happen! Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have – it can't be!"

Ron tentatively patted his back (he was shivering too much to even notice); Lupin took a chocolate bar out of his pocket; Hagrid, seconded by the twins, suggested a good bottle of butterbeer; Minerva tried – with no avail – to make good use of her authority, "Now, really, Mr. Potter!"; while Molly performed a calming spell, which backfired with such a violence that she felt dizzy for the following hours. It was only Hermione's healthy slap in the face that silenced Harry. He sank back down into his chair, and with good sip of the aforementioned butterbeer, he seemed to be able to hear what he was being told and was beginning to understand.

****************

Tonks, her hair bright orange, was hurrying past Mrs. Black's portrait when she heard a painful cry. She dropped the cream cake she had bought for Harry's birthday, which soared elegantly through the air and landed on a rich Oriental rug. Now, this rug might have looked quite innocent, but she knew it to be a flying carpet (the Blacks used to be very fond of such artefacts). Blimey. It would take her hours to clean, as those carpets didn't like to be handled, magically or manually, and tended to show it in quite an aggressive way. She was sick of all this cleaning business, anyway. Who would have thought that she, Nymphadora Tonks, the least homey woman west of Avalon, would one day be the housekeeper of such a big house? Well, it wasn't her actual job or title. She was the "manager of the Headquarters", since Hogwarts was for the time being, and the Head of the Auror office had yet to give her a new appointment. Molly Weasley, who had been doing it for over two years now, had asked for some time off so she could organize her son's wedding. She had been doing a great job and was probably exhausted, and Tonks doubted that she would come back right after the wedding, if at all.

Though she wasn't trying to live up to her predecessor's standards, the young Auror actually ended up mopping and cooking most of the time. No one had complained yet about the rudimentary lunches, or the teatime chocolate chips cookies. But it was hard to keep the whole house to even a minimum of cleanliness, and to half-decently feed all the members that seemed to be always passing by just in time for any given meal. On the top of that, she was unable to secure any help: Kreacher was gone (well, she couldn't really complain about that, could she?), and Hermione had convinced the order that hiring any new house-elves was a security risk.

Now she might not have been able to cook a proper meal, but she certainly knew where to buy one, so when Lupin told her, the former night, that it would be nice if she could have something ready for Harry's birthday, she shamelessly bought it at a French Muggle bakery.

She was still looking at the creamy disaster on the carpet, when she heard some robes swishing behind her. Wasn't everyone else at the meeting? Oh, Snape. Right. She remembered it was the day he was being reinstated into the Order, but it was shocking all the same to see his black shadow for the first time since that night.

"Snape."

"Nymphadora."

She could swear he was using her first name on purpose, just to bother her. Of all wizards he had to be the one to find her there.

"Doing some decoration work?"

"No, contemplating the gloomy prospect of having to deal with a dirty, irate flying carpet."

"Oh, it's a flying carpet, is it?" As an answer, the rug started to shake, at first very slightly, just enough to spread the remains of the cake on its whole surface. When they tried to approach it, it retreated to the opposite corner of the room.

"Yes, of course, what else to expect of the most ancient and noble house of Black? Quite annoying, indeed." He seemed to be talking to himself. "Let me try something. What was it, again? Ah, yes, Tapismortis. That should do the trick."

The rug fell, just like, well, an old, lifeless rug. She performed a quick cleaning spell, and they walked together into the meeting.

******************

Needless to say, the last part of the meeting was physically and emotionally draining for, well, everyone. His friends and colleagues had more or less succeeded in calming down Harry, before Snape and Tonks arrived. One would be surprised to learn that he didn't say anything bad to Snape. Harry, actually, didn't say anything while he was there; fortunately, the ex-Potion master (ex-murderer) left quite early, and Harry's mood subsequently lightened a bit.

Molly had brought a homemade treacle tart, among other delights, so that the loss of Tonks' cream cake wasn't resented, if noticed. Well, one actually did notice.

"Pray, young beauty, have my old werewolf's ears misheard, or were you making a fool of my poor, unworthy self when you were promising Muggle delights this morning?" Lupin noiselessly materialized on her side. He said that it was one of the not too many agreeable side effects of being a werewolf, being able to move quietly.

"Ask the rug in the corridor, it ate the whole damn thing. I dropped it in a surprise when I heard Harry shouting, was lucky to find Snape on my way, he helped me clean up the mess."

"I didn't think I'd live to hear you say you were lucky to find Snape in your way. One could almost believe that you've developed a fancy for old, wounded gentlemen." He chuckled silently while leaning over her. It was the only public display of affection her friend indulged in. She enjoyed this closeness without touching, his long body surrounding hers, his soft voice in her ears and his blue eyes sparkling. She was calling him her friend for want of a better word. They were too old for the "boy/girlfriend" thing, of course; "lovers" was silly; and he wasn't even her fiancé. She was well aware that her inability to name their relationship was only a consequence of his unwillingness to define it. Still, since Dumbledore's death – or, more accurately, Greyback's attack on Bill – they were somehow together. He admitted that they could perhaps have something akin to a relationship, and spent whole nights with her. That is, when he wasn't on a mission, which was most of the time anyway. Her bed was still empty and cold too often for her taste; the fact that she was used to it didn't mean that she didn't resent it. He always talked about "putting their duties first" – he could be so stiff with this damn sense of duty of his. So, no, no talks of marriage.

"Besides," he had said one day with a knowing grin, "if we marry, either we'll be both 'Lupin', or you'll have to get used to Nymphadora."

They say that it was the first step that cost, but how long does it take to make the second one? In any case, she told herself she was happy with what they had – or at least happier than before.

Harry was coming towards them, holding the tell-tale heart she had given him (she showed him quickly how to shut it off, otherwise it would never stop babbling nonsense, and even the twins were getting sick of it) as well as Remus' present – a bottle of Ever-Freezing Vodka.

"A lad has to turn seventeen properly," Lupin amusedly retorted when Tonks had voiced her doubts about it. "We used to get drunk on it... great thing is, it is guaranteed to have absolutely no after effects!" His eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth twitched, which was quite rare these days. She loved his wicked look (among other things).

He had insisted that they give separate presents; he knew that Harry, lonely as he was right now, would resent having to deal with them with a couple instead of as individuals. That you couldn't deny, Remus was caring and sensitive.

"He's coping pretty well, don't you think?" she asked, after Harry left to toast with Hagrid.

"Yes... yes... We still have to see what happens with Severus. I hope no harm comes out of this."

"And what about this research they're not telling anyone about?"

"Well, McGonagall told them they could spend their free time as they see fit, as long as it doesn't infringe on their duty with the Order. Speaking of the devil..."

The "devil" in question sported Tartan robes and was walking briskly toward them. She sat down, not before having carefully examined the sofa. With Fred and George around, one could never be too careful.

"You're still talking about this mysterious project of Potter, Granger and Weasley's, are you? Well, since it seems that it's Albus who gave him the idea, whatever it is, and I can but hope that he made no mistake. Besides, they are all of age, and for the time being not attending school anymore, so I do not have any authority over them. Nymphadora, I almost forgot to give you this..."

She extracted a roll of parchment from her robes. Since she was living at the Unplottable Headquarters, Tonks had to have her mail delivered at Hogwarts.

"Well, I'm off. This day was exhausting, and I'm not getting any younger. Good night to both of you.

"Well, Remus, you're not precisely young yourself... What about following Minerva's example and making an early escape into my rooms?" asked Tonks, as soon as the older witch was too far to hear.

"You're not reading your letter?"

"You wicked werewolf, that's only a lame attempt to distract me! No, I'm not. It's from the Ministry, it's probably my next assignment, and I'll need a clear mind, if only I want to understand their jargon, distinguish what they want me to do from what they want me to pretend I'm doing, which in turn is not to be confused with what I should do as by coincidence, or what I should attempt to do, but fail. Tonight there's somebody in my thoughts, and this somebody had better say a quick goodnight to the assembly before following me to my quarters."

*********************

It wasn't until very late the next morning, after Remus had left, that she opened her letter. She enjoyed this quiet time, in the middle of the morning, those who had to do things had left, and those who had to report in weren't back yet. She would pour herself a third cup of black coffee while reading her mail, if there was any, or just listen to the silence.

On that very morning, though, her routine was, albeit benignly, upset, as Moody was monopolizing all the space available on the kitchen's table with unfolded maps and several bizarre objects, that she guessed were used to draw the aforementioned maps. She mumbled a "Hi", not wanting to disturb him. She just secured a safe corner for her cup of coffee before breaking the Ministry seal and unfolding the parchment. It was indeed an assignment sheet. Good, she'd soon be rid of this tedious housekeeping job.

Tonks, Nymphadora

Patronus: Wolf

Physical characteristic: Changing

Current address: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Last appointment: protecting the aforementioned school from so-called Death Eaters.

Results: failure.

New appointment: Facilitate the contacts between Mr Lucius Malfoy, soon to be released from the prison of Azkaban, and the Ministry.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, RELEASE MALFOY?"

Oh. Moody had been reading over her shoulder.

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Coming soon: A new type of Portkey, another Muggle artefact crackpot at the Ministry, and a view inside Tonks' home!