A/N: In the spirit of dredging up old material that seems to be sweeping the nation and as a way to escape the suck, I recently took another look at my first fanfic, written back in 2005. All things considered, I was surprised at how well it held up, even to new canon. Apart from the fact that Herself completely sank our ship and killed off Ted, too, but I've almost forgiven her for that.

Anyway, I wrote Moondance in the midst of a deep depression, clearly identifying with Tonks' state of mind in HBP. I was isolated and anxious, and writing was therapeutic. Eventually this little fic led me to some of the truest friends I have and inspired me to take charge of my life and my health.

The depression is back (is this the worst year ever, or what?) and I felt the urge to jump back into Tonks' head and do a little more ass kicking. In this horrible political year, some of my favorite people in the world are offering up their art to make people think, and I'm having a hard time staying silent politically when marginalized groups are attacked, over and over again. We need more Nymphadoras and fewer Umbridges.

You don't necessarily have to have read Moondance to enjoy this, although you might be confused about how Tonks got a house no one knows about and who the hell Julie is. Hope you enjoy!

Dedicated to Patty. Because of course it is.

The 47

You're needed at the Ministry. Umbridge is trying to send Lycan children to Azkaban. Courtroom 13. Please hurry. Bring your medals.

Nymphadora Tonks Lupin was having a very bad day. She'd spent the morning under a large pile of paperwork, and at this point, she had three paper cuts, a stiff neck and the words on the parchment were beginning to blur together. Unable to contain her restless energy, she headed over to the break room for a cup of coffee, hoping it would help her focus. This was her least favorite part of the job on any day, but she'd overdone it on the margaritas with her mother last night, and her head was throbbing. Not only that, she was completely out of Healer Whoozee's Patented Hangover Potion. But it had been nice to catch up. Her mother had taken on a lot of extra work since the war ended, and with her own heavy schedule their girls' nights had to be planned weeks in advance. Sometimes Molly or Tonks' work-mate Tina joined them, and once, they'd included Julie, the Muggle Lycan Remus had rescued from his days in the pack.

Of course, it hadn't been all fun, as her mother had inquired in minute detail about the state of her career, her marriage and the possibility of adopted grand-babies. Between Andromeda and Molly, they were determined to fill her tiny flat up with half a dozen orphaned brats. Remus, however, was pretty firm in his refusal to consider the idea, at least until they were able to be more open about their marriage. As for Tonks-she had never considered herself particularly maternal. Besides, she really wanted to focus on her career, which she loved nearly as much as she loved Remus.

She thought about him as she stirred cream into her coffee, and the way he'd looked that morning when she left, the sleepy smile he'd given her as she kissed him goodbye. Poor man had been working like a fiend himself, running the Wolfsbane program during the day and working on his project with Kingsley until late at night. They hardly saw each other any more. But Kingsley had cancelled tonight; she'd retrieved the note from the owl who'd brought it and left it out for Remus on the breakfast table. Maybe she'd skive off work a little early tonight, swing by the Wanton Witch for something that would make his eyes pop out of his sockets and have him come home to a proper welcome. Preferably against the front door.

She wandered back toward her desk, giddy with anticipation.

"What are you grinning about?" Gareth, her sometimes partner, asked as she passed his desk.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she replied. Gareth was all right, but if she paid him too much attention, he tended to go from flirt to pest.

"D'you hear? They found a den of Werewolves."

"A den of what?" Tonks spun around, her interest successfully piqued, as had been the intention.

"Werewolves."

"How many?"

"A lot, apparently. Fifty or so."

"Who found them?"

"Smith and Powers."

"Oh, shit." Tonks gripped Gareth's desk, feeling as though the floor was going to drop out from beneath her feet. Smith and Powers were her least favorite Aurors on the squad. Angry and resentful, they took out their own feeling of inadequacy on the wizards and witches they arrested, demanding respect and obedience whether they'd earned it or not.

"Looks like they're going to break your record, yeah?"

Tonks waved off Gareth's teasing remark and bit her lip, worriedly. "Where'd they find them?"

"They were squatting in this burned out old factory,outside of Leeds, living off stolen livestock and breaking into the nearby houses. Tina says Smith said it was horrible. I mean, the stench. Can you even imagine?

Tonks could imagine quite easily, given Remus' detailed descriptions of the pack he had infiltrated during the war, but she wasn't pleased with the look of revulsion on Gareth's face.. They'd known there would still be pockets of Lycans living outside the bounds of society, but she never imagined there would be as many as that, undiscovered. Unless...

"Where are they now?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. No one on the squad knew about her semi-marriage to Remus, at his insistence. They all thought her eagerness to take on Werewolf-related cases was just another symbol of her reputation as a thrill seeker.

"Down in the dungeons, waiting to be processed for Azkaban, I think."

Tonks exploded, past caring about what Gareth thought. "What the fuck? Oh, hell, no they are not. Not if I have anything to do with it."

She raced out of the room, her heart pounding, sprinting past the receptionist and through the Auror Headquarters waiting area, her boots a blur under her red robes. The lift was impossibly slow to arrive, and even slower as it continually picked up passengers in its journey toward the first floor. Tonks was ready to hex the lot of them. Azkaban. Without a fucking trial. Those fucking bastards. They know the procedure. Lycans were supposed to be housed in the dungeons until they could be examined by a Healer and questioned by a committee, to determine how much, if any, damage had been caused by them during their transformations. They were then to stand trial for whatever crimes they committed. Those who did not commit any crimes were put on the Werewolf registration list, and agreed to be monitored monthly to keep the public safe. They were then referred to a Wolfsbane program which had been subsidized by a group of private citizens, herself and her parents included.

By the time she reached the dungeons, she was frantic. She flashed her badge to the receptionist and submitted herself to the security wizard for a body scan. Convinced she was who she said she was, she was allowed to continue down to the cells. It was oddly quiet inside the cell block, and as she popped her head up to the holes in the cell doors, she began to understand why. Empty cell after empty cell greeted her, with the exception of a drunken goblin passed out on a cot and a sobbing witch who, according to her file on the door, hexed her husband into the hospital for cheating on her with her mother.

Where could they be? Was she too late? She certainly didn't relish the idea of a visit to Azkaban, and it was always much harder to get people out of there than get them in. As she reached the end of the row, she head a humming noise coming from the far end of the hall, which had stone steps leading down to the oldest part of the dungeon.

With every step down she took, her skin grew colder and the noise grew louder, becoming recognizable as moans and cries. The prickles on the back of her neck were positively electric, and her stomach was lurching with dread. Why on earth did they put them down here?

And then, just as she spotted three figures talking animatedly in front of a door that could only be described as medieval, she heard a baby cry.

You have a fucking baby in there?" she shrieked, as the three figures broke apart and turned to face her. Standing between Smith and Powers, Dolores Umbridge was writing on a clipboard, her froglike features wreathed in a sickening smile.

"Ello, Tonks," Smith said. Gesturing toward the dungeon door, he grinned. "Looks like I've beat your record, then, haven't I?"

Resisting the urge to punch the idiotic smile off his face, Tonks pushed past him, peering through the window, trying to see past the red blur of rage which came down over her eyes. And then she cried out again. The dungeon was massive, and not very well lit, but it was clear enough to recognize the dozens and dozens of children huddled together in clusters. She turned to them with a look of horror. "You were planning to send children. To Azkaban. What kind of fucking monster are you?"

Smith had the decency to look somewhat guilty at that, but Dolores Umbridge merely giggled. "I'm afraid you are very much mistaken, Miss...Tonks, is it?" she said, after reading her badge. "Those are the monsters. And I am going to make certain they never have the chance to hurt a wizard of witch again."

"Over my dead body," Tonks replied, before she'd even have a chance to think through the precarious nature of her situation. Dolores Umbridge had somehow managed to avoid prosecution during the war by arguing that she had 'just been following orders.' Unfortunately, she had managed to ingratiate herself with enough of the old guard of Ministry bureaucrats that she had been given a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which had a say in every single werewolf incident that the Auror department handled.

"And what do you propose to do about it, my dear girl? I have been authorized by the Ministry of Magic to determine where they are to be held while they await trial. We simply do not have the resources to provide security to guard them for...why it could take months to build a case against them!"

"What on earth have could they done to deserve a trial?" Tonks asked, incredulous.

"Oh, lots of things," Dolores continued, practically purring with smug anticipation. "Their crimes could fill out a book, and I've only just gotten started. But it's more than enough to take up to the Wizengamot. They will begin to organize the trials, and these creatures will remain safely locked away in Azkaban, where they will be guarded by the very best."

"You can't-"

"Ooh, just watch me." She gathered her clipboard to her chest and marched away, bobbing up and down on her squat little legs.

"Listen, Tonks-" Smith began.

"How could you?" she shrieked, pushing him back into the door roughly. "How could you hand them over to her, you sadistic bastard, they are babies!"

"Now Tonks, you didn't see what we-"

"Children are innocent, Smith. Children are always innocent. Jesus H. Christ, how could you be so fucking stupid? How could you let her near them? The woman tortured students. In a classroom! For detention!"

Smith shook his head. "No she didn't."

"Yes, Warren, she did. She did it to five of my friends and countless others."

Smith merely shook his head, refusing to believe it, and Powers interrupted. "These children are not innocent, Tonks. They are responsible for at least one death, and as they are an offshoot of Greyback's' pack, there are very likely responsible for more.

Tonks let go of Smith's collar and turned to peer into the window again. The children had gone quiet, and many of them were watching her intently through the door. With a heavy sigh, she turned back to Powers. "They've admitted this?"

"Yes. And not only that, they resisted arrest."

"Well of course they did, Mike. Look how we treat them!" She gestured angrily toward the window.

"You weren't there, Tonks. You didn't see what I did. They're not...this lot is bad, I'm tellin' you. Pure evil. You see it in their eyes, they just want to kill."

Tonks bit back an angry retort and began pacing. "We have to put a stop to this. They can't go to Azkaban."

"She's up there giving a report to the Wizengamot right now. It's out of your hands."

"Shit, now?" she asked, as panic began to bubble up in her gut. She raced toward the stairs.

Where d'ya think you're going, Tonks?" Smith called after her. But Tonks ignored him, her mind already full of a desperate plan.

Fortunately, another case was being argued before the Wizengamot, as she discovered when she stopped short of the courtroom door and spotted Umbridge sitting on a bench, clipboard in hand. Taking a gamble, she darted back to the lift, heading up to the Minister's office. Unfortunately, his office was empty, and his secretary refused to contact him by floo, claiming he was out of the country. Tonks had to restrain herself from hitting the wall. She knew, unfortunately, that one Auror was not going to have a chance to sway the Wizengamot when nearly half of them had been under the impression Umbridge had done a jolly good job as Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission. At least, they said, she'd raked in nearly a half million galleons for the Ministry in fines. She tried to think of somebody else that could help. Remus was going to be no help; those same people considered him a creature, not a man. Her mother, surely, but how soon could she get here?

Then it hit her. I can use my Patronus. I can contact the whole bloody Order!

Tonks shifted nervously in her seat in the nearly empty Wizengamot spectator section as Dolores Umbridge laid out her case against the Lycan children. She spotted a few faces among the panel that showed an hint of sympathy, but most of the Wizengamot simply appeared bored. A few, however seemed angry, or scared, and they worried her the most. After Umbridge finished her testimony, and while she was saccharinely answering the few questions they gave her, mostly about the logistics of the transport to Azkaban, Tonks stood up.

It took a while for anyone but Umbridge to notice her, so Tonks made a theatrical cough to get their attention.

"Can I help you, Miss?" The tone of voice used by the Wizard in the center of the dais was overly cheerful and completely patronizing.

It's Sergeant. Sergeant Tonks of the Auror department."

"What can we do for you, Sergeant?"

"I'm here to make an objection."

"An objection? That's a little irregular at this stage of the game, isn't it? What are you objecting to, my dear?"

"Imprisoning children in Azkaban, for one."

The wizard shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, under the circumstances-" he began.

"It's unconscionable, and you know it."

"Well, it is, perhaps a little irregular..."

"It's obscene."

"Well, I don't think-"

A grandmotherly witch wearing large, flowery robes interrupted. "Perhaps we can come up with something better. Equally safe but not...well, Azkaban." She shuddered a bit as she said it. "I had to do an inspection there once."

"Something better?" the wizard asked. "Would it be as secure as Azkaban? Because if not, I'm not risking the lives of our citizens. We must protect them at all costs."

"And these children you are keeping in a dungeon are also your citizens. And you didn't protect them very well-"

"They're not children, they're creatures," Umbridge interrupted, and her words caused several members of the panel to redden, and look down in embarrassment.

The elderly wizard tapped his wand irritably on the desk in front of him, clearly struggling with how to handle this in a way that it would make it all all go away, and quickly.

"Well..right, then. Where to put them? I don't know, perhaps we can build something temporary, out in the wilderness. Similar to how we built the stadium for the Quidditch World Cup. We can make it unplottable, throw in some Muggle repelling charms, make certain they are not stumbled upon, somewhere out of the way-"

"You mean like a camp?" Tonks broke in.

"Yes, of course. We'll build temporary shelters and hire some of the Azkaban guards and a small staff and we'll build a very secure fence..."

"With guard towers?"

"Yes, yes," the wizard said excitedly. "All excellent ideas. You really are a credit to the department, Miss...or rather, Sergeant Tonks." He smiled down on her, beneficently.

"Why don't you throw in some ovens while you are at it?" Tonks added, grinding her teeth in anger.

"Now that isn't remotely funny."

"It wasn't meant to be funny, it was meant to be horrifying." She leapt over the courtroom gate and made her way over to stand directly in front of him, attempting to keep her temper in check. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid I will not be able to stand behind an organization that puts children in a place like Azkaban or even this concentration camp you're thinking of building. What did we fight that war for if we're going to turn into a bunch of fucking Nazis? This is intolerable, and I will speak to the Quibbler tonight if you go through with this. You will have a lobby full of protestors tomorrow.

"I seriously doubt that," said Dolores from her seat in the witness box.,

"That's because you're a horrible person who gets off on hurting children," Tonks spat in reply.

"Now Miss Tonks," the elderly wizard admonished ….. "that's going a bit too far."

"Not by half!" Tonks shouted. "I swear to God, if you go through with this, I will drag in every newspaper in the country, maybe even some of the Muggle ones! I'll get Hermione fucking Granger on the case!"

"Now, let's not get carried away! Miss Tonks..."

"That's Sergeant Tonks to you!" she shouted, as he held up a hand to shush her.

"Sergeant Tonks," he amended. "Let's not do anything rash. I'm sure we can come up with a plan that will ensure the country's safety while still considering the needs of these..."

"Children," said Tonks.

"Children, he repeated, his lips a tight line as he looked at her over his spectacles. "Where do you propose we put them?"

"I'll take them."

Dolores Umbridge giggled. "Excuse me, but I think I must have misheard you." She giggled again, covering her mouth with her hand. "You plan to take care of forty-seven werewolves in a two room flat above Gladrags?"

Tonks rolled her eyes and turned back toward the Wizard. "No, in my place in Surrey. Which has sixty-three bedrooms and sits on a hundred acres of fenced-in property."

"You actually want us to believe that you have a country estate of your own?"

Umbridge allowed her gaze to roam over Tonks, from the pink hair, (which was beginning to turn red from anger) to the soles of her Dr. Martins.

"I couldn't give fuck what you believe," Tonks replied, deliberately shifting from her mother's accent to her father's.

"Where did you come by it?"

"That's none of your damn business. But it's about the safest place on earth for these children. It's unplottable, it's invisible, it has a Muggle-repelling charm, and the wards were set by none other than Mad-Eye Moody."

Umbridge shuddered, looking as if she had just been given a cup of lemon juice. Tonks felt her rage deepen even further, remembering the old toad's office door.

"You are completely unqualified to take charge of one dangerous child, let alone fifty. You're hardly more than a child yourself."

"I am a decorated Auror, Dolores, and I hold the record in my department for Lycan retrieval. Eighteen successful captures and and only one had to be put down."

Umbridge's eyes narrowed at at that boast and Tonks shook with rage. She knew damn well the two hulking Aurors standing behind her thought that the only successful Lycan retrieval operation was one where they got to murder one.

"And how do you propose to take care of them all by yourself, little Miss Werewolf Hunter? These...beasts were brought up by Fenrir Greyback, and they were taught to fear Aurors, to hate Magical folk. They'll tear your throat out while you are sleeping."

"You're sick!" Tonks spat. "They are children!"

"They're Werewolf children." Shaking off her anger, Dolores took a deep breath and continued, her voice unnaturally sweet. "And your job is to protect us from them, not the other way around. One wonders why you are so quick to risk your career to take a stand against the safety of the community in favor of monsters."

A familiar, beloved voice came up from behind Tonks. "That's probably because she's been married to one for the past two years." She felt Remus' hand, feather light, on her back, and some of the panic she was feeling lessened. She could have quite cheerfully kissed him. In fact, she was still considering it.

"Married?" Umbridge cried out in horror, clutching at her nonexistent bosom. "You'll be fired," she whispered. After a moment, her face spread into a amphibian smile. "I'll make certain of it."

Lupin continued in the same, steady voice, ignoring the last bit and addressing the first. "Yes, married. So, naturally, I will be there to assist her with the children, and to teach them how to manage their condition."

Umbridge looked Remus up and down, not even bothering to hide her disgust. Her eyes lingered on his chest, where his Order of Merlin, First Class shone brightly against his grey cardigan. "And what, pray tell, will you do the night of the full moon?" You'll just be another raging beast for her to deal with."

Remus' lips tightened with anger, but before he could reply, a large, booming voice sounded behind him.

"Well, it's a good thing that my son-in-law here advised me to put by a good supply of ingredients for Wolfsbane, in preparation for the end of the war. We knew it would be years before all of the Lycans would come out of the shadows. Now we're ready. I'll set my staff to brewing up as much as we can in the next two weeks. We'll be ready, we're prepared to help them after, too." Ted said, clapping a hand on Remus' shoulder as he approached the stunned Wizengamot.

There was a brisk click of heels on the stone floor behind Ted. "Which is also why I thought I'd better return to my training at St. Mungos Academy," Andromeda Tonks added. "Earning a specialization in Lycanthropy, of course. I'm really quite desperate to to get my hands on these children. So if you will just go ahead and sign the release to my daughter, we can get them out of these medieval unsanitary conditions and into a proper examination room." She stood at her full height, one eyebrow raised, her distractingly beautiful face expectant. Dolores had been one of her least favorite housemates, one minute simpering and flattering, the next stabbing people in the back in order to gain entrance to her group of friends. Umbridge shifted uncomfortably, shuffling and re-stacking her parchments.

"I cannot release forty seven children, dangerous children, to the care of the four of you. You have no idea, no possible understanding of what it will take to control them. Why, I would not even presume to take on the task, and I was Headmistress of Hogwarts itself. Who will feed them? How can you possibly expect to clean up after them? To keep order?"

"I would love to feed those precious babies," Molly Weasley pushed forward to approach the Wizengamot, clutching at a colorfully knit shawl." I haven't had children to cook for for some time now."

"And who are you, pray tell?" Dolores Umbridge looked distastefully at Molly's handmade garments, carefully avoiding the sight of the Order of Merlin, second class, and the smaller, poppy-shaped medal, given in honor of her son's death in the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Molly Weasley, mother of seven. Oh, and I am the founder of Fred's Friends, a group of mums who have been working to place kids with foster and adoptive families since the end of the war. I'll get started looking for their families, and finding new ones for those poor little ones whose families are gone or rejected them."

Arthur Weasley, Minister for Muggle Relations, moved to stand beside his wife, placing an arm on her shoulder. "I'll put my staff to researching their families at once. Muggle Relations will have to take a holiday, their parents must be frantic."

There was a rustling as the growing crowd of spectators parted behind them. Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, made her way slowly to the dais, her posture erect in spite of the cane she was now forced to make use of. "I will apparate to Mrs. Lupin's house myself in preparation for the children's arrival. It will be child's play compared to the first day of Hogwarts, but I have been keeping order there for nearly fifty years."

"Not werewolf children," Umbridge whispered under her breath.

"I beg your pardon, Dolores, but I most certainly have attended to the needs of Lycan children, starting with my dear friend Remus. I think I'm well able to maintain order among forty-seven preadolescents. What's the worst thing they can do to me? Set off fireworks in Great Hall?"

Umbridge was spitting mad at this point, and she rose to her feet, but fell silent when she spotted the small figure standing next to the formidable headmistress. Kreacher, wearing Regulus' locket alongside his Order of Merlin, Elf Class, spoke out in a hoarse voice. "The House Elves of Hogwarts have agreed to offer their services to the children in addition to our Hogwarts duties. House Elves care for all wizard children."

"And who do you think is going to pay for it? Our budget was decimated by the war, and who knows how long we will have to provide for their care..." she began, grasping at straws, but when Harry Potter walked forward, holding hands with Ginny Weasley and flanked by Ron and Hermione, she thought better of it. A crowd of young people assembled behind them, many with medals of their own, all wearing galleon pendants.

Harry addressed the Wizengamot; "I'd be happy to pay for it. I've got a soft spot for orphans, oddly enough. And it just so happens my godfather, who had a particular fondness for werewolves, left me a shitload of money I don't need." Dolores glared at him, venom practically seeping from her pores.

From the back of the room, which was now full to nearly bursting, a big booming voice rang out. "No, Harry, the Ministry will pay for it." There was a rumble as the crowd surrounding the dais parted, and Minister Shacklebolt approached, wearing his state robes, his order of Merlin competing for attention with the medals and ribbons that made up his traditional regalia. "I will tack it on as an addendum to the Remus Lupin Lycan Equality Act, something I have been working on for six weeks now, meeting well into the night with Remus and and Mrs. Tonks and my Ministers. It is named in honor of the man who, at great personal risk, infiltrated Fenrir Greyback's terror group during the early days of the war. I've seen the statistics. The rate of Lycanthropy infections had exploded during the days when the Ministry was still pretending that Voldemort had not returned. They were organized, they were methodical and they were brutal. They had unwavering loyalty for their leader. If they had been allowed to continue, we would have been looking at a 30% infection rate in the magical population of the country within two years. Six months after that, it would have been 50%. Voldemort planned to do away with Greyback and install someone loyal to him. He would have had thousands of committed, loyal Lycans at his beck and call. It probably would have been the end of the Muggles in Britain. Remus weakened the group, and the infection rate gradually began to take a downward turn. He's also been invaluable in convincing the Lycan population that haven't died or been incarcerated to stay loyal to the Ministry, in spite of our previous treatment of them. The Lupin Act will restore the rights taken from Lycans before the war, adding a few new ones, like employment discrimination bans and marriage and adoption equality. It will permanently guarantee their status as part-humans, not beasts, and we are going to begin a Ministry-run Wolfsbane program, free of charge. Now you know perfectly well these children should not be in prison, and those who put them there will be facing a disciplinary board for insubordination. They are victims, not criminals. They have been prisoners of war, and they were deliberately infected to further the interest of a terrorist organization. An organization, I might add, which infiltrated the highest levels of the Ministry. An organization which you still haven't completely convinced me you weren't a part of, Madam Umbridge, no matter who else on this committee you managed to fool into pardoning you."

Umbridge lost all the color in her face. She was beginning to fear a lot more than simply not getting her way on the fate of the children. She croaked, "But...these children have committed crimes. What about the people they've harmed? And besides, some of them are hardly even children. I saw a boy there who had to be six feet tall."

"As I said, they were used as pawns for a terror organization. Their families were threatened. They were tortured. But you'd know all about torture, wouldn't you, Dolores? Now, I am going to sign this Ministerial Order releasing these wards of the Ministry to the Lupins' care. They are to go down and release the children from custody as soon as may be, before all our hard-won progress with the Lycans goes up in smoke." He signed his name with a flourish, then handed the document to Remus, with a slight bow.

He turned again to the witness box. "And, Dolores. I expect to see your resignation letter on my desk by this afternoon. You nearly had me going to the Portuguese Ministry on a wild goose chase-deliberately-so you could hold this hearing without me. Once again, you underestimated the Order of the Phoenix, just like you underestimate Lycans. And children. You never miss a chance to hurt children. And I will see to it that you never get a job that puts you near them again."