Disclaimer: This bored and obsessive mind is most certainly not J.K. Rowling's mind. Most or all of these scenes were indirectly hinted at, so I'm just working off her genius. I make no claims to Harry Potter, I'm just adding my own fantasy to the storyline of that book – specifically, book 6. No characters, places, and at some moments, occasions are really mine. I just manipulated them. Song quote at the end is by the BEAUTIFUL Jason Mraz from the song "After An Afternoon."




REMEMBERING SIRIUS



Nymphadora Tonks was gloomy.

Everyone is gloomy sometimes, it's a plain fact of life. However, it was also a fact of life that she, Nymphadora Tonks, never was and never had been. Depression and Nymphadora Tonks were two completely unrelated terms that had never met before, and wouldn't recognize each other if they were the only two beings in a small room.

Thus, in addition to being gloomy, she was also annoyed, confused, and teary. The last was also a large surprise for her.

Well, it's only to be expected, she tried to console herself. I mean, Sirius just died, and all, and Remus is still being absolutely clueless. It's no wonder.

But this only reminded her that her famed hair, usually the pink of a particularly magnificent sunset, had slowly but surely faded to an odd, cheerless blonde color; and her Patronus, once a leopard, had acquired a distinctly doggish air about the face.

And strangely enough, no matter how hard she tried to change her hair back, it always reverted back to blonde after a couple of hours or so. This, she knew, was due to her emotional stress and upheaval. Knowing this did not make her feel any better.

All this, topped by the fact that she had nowhere better to go, was why she was sitting in the kitchen of the Burrow at midnight on Friday, July 6th, staring at the tabletop and absently petting the enormous cat that had settled on her lap.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Tonks called listlessly, disinclined to upset the feline purring comfortingly on her legs.

"Remus Lupin."

"Oh, hello. Er…hang on…what's your favorite color?"

"Forest green. Your favorite food?"

"Treacle tart." Tonks gathered the protesting cat into her arms and opened the door.

Remus smiled. "I hope I didn't disturb you…?"

Tonks sniffed discreetly and shook her hopelessly blonde head. "No, no, I was up anyway. Only one you bothered is the cat."

"I hope he'll forgive me." Remus moved into the kitchen, heading for the shelf of mugs. "I could do with some nice tea — "

He cut off his sentence. In the dim glow of the kitchen lamp, Tonks saw his eyes search her face and, without a doubt, register the wet streaks that graced it.

She smiled tremblingly. "I'm all right, Remus."

It was embarrassing enough to be seen like this by anyone, but the fact that it was Remus made everything so much worse. Ever since she'd met him, she'd had a small, childish crush on the older man. For months, she laughed it off inwardly, certain that it would fade like all other crushes…

To her surprise, it never had; in fact, it grew stronger and deepened into something far more than a crush. Tonks had fought it – oh yes, she had – and still it lingered, the faintest stirrings of real love. Tonks was young, but she knew immediately that this was no ordinary feeling.

Remus was moving toward her. "Tonks? Tonks, what's wrong?"

Tonks instinctively turned her back, face crumpling, hugging herself. She didn't trust herself to speak.

She heard him cross the kitchen to stand behind her. His warm, silent presence at her back didn't improve matters. The sobs she held back wracked her frame violently.

A touch, soft as a rose petal, on her shoulder. Tonks turned and stared into Remus's concerned face. "Tonks?" he said softly.

His voice broke her resolve, and, unable to stop herself, Tonks threw her arms around him and began sobbing into his robes.

She felt him stiffen for the barest fraction of a second. Then he relaxed, supporting her limp weight. Through her fog of sadness, Tonks registered the hesitant hands that slipped around her thin waist and cradled it for a moment, uncertain, then slid around to fully enclose her in the circle of his arms. She buried her face in his chest and clutched his shoulders all the more tightly, staggering under a wave of new depression, loving him and knowing he did this only as a friend.

Remus began to guide her to the table. His hands were strong at the small of her back. "Sit," he ordered gently, pushing her down into her recently vacated chair. Tonks obliged, sniffing and wiping her face. Remus busied himself for a moment near a cupboard, then brought her a steaming cup of tea.

"Thanks," she whispered, cupping it in her hands and sipping shakily. A few drops slopped over the brim and onto the table.

Remus sat across from her. "Now. Why don't you tell me what's so upsetting you?"

Tonks shuddered involuntarily. Tell him she was depressed because she loved him so much? Ha!

"Really, you'll feel much better," he coaxed.

Tonks sighed. If she omitted certain details concerning him, and only told him half the story, the half that was gnawing away at her…

"Sirius," she said softly.

Remus's face didn't change, save to become just a bit sadder. "Ah. I see. We're all upset about him…"

"I killed him," Tonks whispered, staring blankly at a spot on the table, one lone tear spilling over and sliding down her pale cheek.

"What — ? Tonks, no you didn't," Remus exclaimed, taken aback. "You had nothing to do with it, and don't think you did. What happened there was unavoidable." He hesitated, then plunged on. "It's perfectly natural to have survivors' guilt."

Tonks shook her head angrily, splashing more tea in the process. "No, Remus! Don't you remember? I was fighting Bellatrix, I could have saved Sirius if I had been stronger — if I hadn't fallen so soon — "

"Bellatrix is at least ten years older than you and a Death Eater besides, she knows enough Dark spells to bring down people of twice your caliber!"

She pointed at him. "See? You're saying I'm not adequate, and you're right."

Remus shook his own head. "No," he said slowly, "no, that's not what I'm saying. You are possibly one of the most intelligent people I've ever met, Tonks, and I don't like to hear you think otherwise. If I had been facing Bellatrix, I'm sure I would have succumbed just as quickly."

"No, you wouldn't have," Tonks said bitterly. "You're stronger than I am. Mostly everyone is. I — "

She bit off her words. Eventually she would tell Remus just how weak her heart was in regards to him; but now was not the time.

"Nymphadora Tonks, I have worked with you on numerous occasions, so I can say with certainty that you are not weak," Remus stated firmly.

"Don't call me that," Tonks retorted, nettled. She hated it when he called her Nymphadora. That was what adults with parental feelings called her, and she did not want Remus feeling like a parent to her.

Remus raised his eyebrows.

She sighed. "Sorry," she muttered. "I just…really hate that name."

"Forgiven." A ghost of a smile flickered across his careworn face. "Although, might I add, living with 'Remus' doesn't always have its benefits."

Tonks grinned. "I'll bet." With a yawn, she stood and carried her mug over to the sink. "You know, I am feeling a bit better," she lied. Perhaps if she could tell him the whole story, yes, but even with one half the burden gone, the half remaining weighed just as heavily.

"I'm always open to talk," Remus assured her. "In fact, I think it would beneficial to both of us if we kept talking."

Just talking…? she thought disappointedly. Damn.

"After all, you seem to feel responsible for it, and I…well, we were close," he trailed off, staring at the wall, seeing something she could never see.

Nevertheless, she smiled falteringly. "I'd like that."

"As would I." He gave her a curious look. "You're staying here tonight?"

She nodded. "Wanted a bit of human companionship, frankly, and my apartment doesn't constitute as that."

He grinned outright. "Apartments generally seem to have that effect, I've noticed. Well, I'll be off, then."

"Off?" Tonks was incredulous. "You just came! I thought you were — "

Again, she came to a screeching halt. She'd hoped he would spend the night as well, as he sometimes did, because the only two available spaces were the two couches in the family room. Lumpy, but worth it for a night in the same room as him.

"I only came to see if Arthur was home, which, poor man, he isn't. Since this is the case, I'll go back to Kingsley's flat, I'm staying with him for the time being." His face was drawn; Tonks knew he'd lost his small home due to lack of money.

By now, he was at the door. Tonks hurried after him. "Remus, wait…" She paused, the words dying on her lips.

He turned, concerned. "Tonks, you'll be all right?"

She forced a smile onto her face. "Of course!" she said brightly, in a sad mockery of her old style. "I'll be fine. You know me, Remus. I just – just bounce back. Like a…er, something bouncy."

He smiled slightly and bent his face to hers. For one breathtaking instant, Tonks was sure he was going to kiss her.

And, in fact, he did. Only it was an extremely platonic kiss on the cheek, as a brother might give to a sister, or a friend to a friend.

"Sleep well, Tonks."

Then he was gone.

Tonks stared at his departing back and was dismayed, even angry, to feel hot new trails of tears creeping down her face. With an impatient growl, she wiped them away and stomped into the next room, where a makeshift bed had already been set up on the couch. Tonks glared at, simply because she'd have to sleep in it without having the comfort of Remus on the next couch over, then stormed into the lavatory.

A dismaying sight met her eyes. Her hair, already such a drab hue, had darkened to a dismal, mousy brown.


~*~


They did talk again. Several more times at that, and in each interview, Tonks's love for Remus grew. Her hair managed to become even duller. Remus asked her about this only once.

"Tonks, your hair doesn't look as, er, bright as it usually is."

Tonks spat out her answer. "Usually mirrors how I feel."

His face had gone dark with disbelief. "You can't possibly feel that bad! I mean, it's a very flattering shade," he hastened to assure he, showing just how chivalrous he was, "but it's very…it's a drastic change from your pink hair."

Tonks shrugged rather sullenly. "My attitude's changed."

And indeed, it had changed, rapidly declining over the weeks. She was groggy and withdrawn; she never smiled anymore; she rarely if ever showed any reaction to anything that was said to her. From a distance, she heard Ron Weasley compare her to Moaning Myrtle, and to be frank, she couldn't blame him.

"More potatoes, dear?"

Tonks mutely shook her head at Mrs. Weasley, who withdrew the platter with a motherly, worried expression. Tonks had that effect on people lately.

Striving to keep her voice casual, she asked, "Do you know when Remus is coming over?"

"Sometime after supper, I'm sure."

Tonks saw Fred and George, who were visiting, nudge each other and mutter with decidedly devious expressions. But she didn't care anymore. Swallowing nervously, she laid down her fork and said, "I – I feel a bit faint, think I'll go lie down for a moment."

Ignoring Mrs. Weasley's face, Tonks got up and walked into her temporary bedroom. In there, she began pacing and wringing her hands. A thought had hit her and would not let go.

Tell Remus tonight.

Well, and why not? Putting it off would not make matters any better, and she would have to tell him at some point, so better now than never, while they were in a close, relaxed atmosphere. Besides, at some points in the last couple of weeks…she had even thought…

Tonks shook her mousy brown head vigorously. No, she was imagining things. Remus did not see her in that particular light. Or did he? There was really only one way to find out, and that was to —

"Good evening, Tonks."

Despite herself, Tonks let out a little shriek and whirled. "Oh my God, Remus!" she yelled.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized worriedly, a faint frown creasing his forehead. "I didn't realize I'd scare you that much."

Tonks breathed out heavily. "No, no, I'm all right, just a bit jumpy tonight, I guess."

Remus sat on a couch and gazed up at her with his warm eyes. "Anything in particular bothering you that you want to talk about?"

"No," Tonks lied immediately, then winced and cursed. "I mean, yes. Yes, there is something. Er." She moved to sit down and tripped over her own feet; Tonks let fly another impolite word.

A steadying hand on her elbow steered her towards the couch without mishap. "I worry about you sometimes, Tonks, I really do," Remus said wryly, a faint smile on his face.

Tonks blinked up at him and felt like butter that's been left out in the sun for too long. "Oh. Right. Sorry," she said blankly.

Remus sat on the other couch. "What is it that's troubling you?"

This would be so much easier, Tonks thought viciously, if I could pace. If I didn't have to look at him. I'd just trip, though.

"Tonks?"

Tonks stared at the ratty ceiling of the Burrow. "When we first talked, and you asked me to tell you what was upsetting me, I only told you half the truth."

"Indeed?" Remus sounded mildly surprised, but not terribly so. Tonks supposed that it was obvious that there was something else on her mind.

"Yes. And the whole truth is…is…Remus, I…I'm in love," she finished wretchedly.

"In love?" His voice was soft, almost bemused. "With whom?"

Hang clumsiness, Tonks thought as she jumped to her feet and prowled the room. "Well, see, that's the funny thing," she said desperately. "All right, Remus, promise that – that no matter what I say, you'll…keep an open mind, right?"

"Of course, Tonks!" Remus sounded aghast at the very idea of shuttering her out; Tonks didn't know if he looked it, however, because she was staring everywhere but at his face. "Tonks, you know I'd never — "

"Remus, I love you."

Silence, as dark and devastating as midnight.

Tonks hazarded a glance and wished she hadn't. His face was so…blank. And sad, there was sorrow lurking in all the crevices of his face.

Then, in a curiously forced voice, he managed, "Do you feel better for telling me that?"

Tonks thought about it. "No," she finally answered honestly. "No, not really. Not at all, actually. I'll only feel better if…if…"

Remus sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that. Tonks, I can't…"

"Oh, no you don't," Tonks said suddenly, a flash of enlightenment hitting her. Striding over to him, she grabbed the front of his robes. He wouldn't look at her. "No lying, Remus. I know you and your guilt factor, but you have to tell me the truth: besides those barriers, do you love me?"

Still refusing to meet her eyes, he replied stubbornly, "You know I can't answer that."

"For me, Remus."

"Don't use that," he shot back sharply, staring at her clenched fists. "I feel guilty enough already."

"God, Remus, why?" Tonks asked. Not pitifully, as she was tempted to do, but sternly matter-of-fact, bordering on angry. "Why not? Look, you know I accept you for what you are and, you know, actually love you for it — "

"Look at me, Tonks," he whispered. "I'm poor, I'm old, I'm a werewolf…what could you possibly want with me?"

Tonks shoved his chest. "Your heart, you moron! You! Everyone except for you, Remus, sees what a wonderful person you are, and no amount of age or money or – or – lycanthropy is going to change that for us. For me…"

He was silent for a moment. But in a low voice, he finally answered, "But it does for me."

Tonks stepped away, limp. "So you're willing to give up a life because of that?"

"If it will protect the ones I love, then yes."

"So you do love me?"

Remus sighed, his famed patience wearing thin. "Tonks, I won't answer that. You know it."

She felt cold, cold all over, as if someone had submerged her in a tank of ice. "So that's it, then," she said dully.

He stepped forward. "Tonks, I'm sorry, but you know I can't — "

"No, I don't know, Remus," she said. "But it's your choice. Don't think I won't hound you about it for the rest of your life, though." She raised pleading eyes. "Remus, if you'd only listen — "

"Tonks, I have to go," he interrupted, staying her arguments. "I'll contact you some other time if I can. I'm going undercover, remember." Remus tried to smile at her.

"Yeah. Right," Tonks said hollowly, trying to suppress the terrible black feeling that was suffusing her. A howl of grief was rising in her throat, but it wouldn't come out. Maybe if it had, he'd understand how important this was to her, how much it meant to her.

Still, one last effort couldn't hurt. "Remus, I really can't believe you right now. I mean, you know me. You know I don't care about – about the things that you think keep us apart…"

"Nymphadora," Remus said, "for now, the subject has to close. I'm sorry."

Her lower lip started to quiver. He'd used her first name…

"Please," Remus said, distress shining in his face, "oh please, don't…Tonks, try to understand this from my point of view."

But Tonks couldn't contain her anguish anymore. Blindly, she sat down on the couch, her face buried in her hands.

Dimly, she registered the fact that he left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving her in shadow.

She propped herself up and sniffled furiously, trying to gather her scraps of dignity. It was hopeless. Any faltering happiness she had felt before was completely gone.

She wondered drearily if she was even capable of conjuring a Patronus. Against her will, she thought of Remus and murmured, "Expecto Patronum."

The result caused a fresh wave of tears to flow down her face. The creature darting across the room was not feline, but canine. A wolf.

Her life had never before been quite so low as it was in that moment of darkness.

~*~
I bare my windowed self
Untamed and untrained
Dreams that hardly touch
Our complexions' truest faults…

Disclaimer: See previous chapter. The song quote is from "Give It Up" by Fefe Dobson. If you actually know what that song is about, take it out of context.


A/N: Fyi, everyone, this story is mostly told from Tonks's POV. However, I am a whimsical person and occasionally switch narrators for no particular reason. Also, PLEASE correct me if I make any terrible canon time errors, in case the miraculous mods somehow miss one.





MOTHER MOLLY



Molly Weasley liked being a mother.

After having seven children, eight if you included Harry, she was quite good at it. She also liked to cook, and was proficient in this as well, which is a very important trait in a successful mother.

At the moment, she was stirring a huge pot of onion soup and thinking of nothing in particular. It was half-past ten, and she had been expecting company for half an hour now.

Molly smiled wryly. More children for Mother Molly.

She sighed. Yes, she liked being a mother. Lately, though…

It was starting to worry her, the way people came to her for help, and the way some people were acting. Her own children were enough to keep track of. Then there was Hermione, who was sure to become her daughter-in-law someday, Molly reflected happily. Then Harry, poor dear, didn't have anyone to rely on at his godforsaken house, and he was nearly part of the family anyway. She was glad to have him.

Dumbledore, though…she wasn't used to having Dumbledore to take care of. The man was haggard and exhausted, and always appreciated her home-cooked meals when he could have them. Remus, too, nearly collapsed at the table when he found the time to come over. And Tonks…

Molly sighed again. Poor Tonks. It was no secret what was troubling her, of course. You'd have to be blind to ignore her new Patronus. Some passed it off as Sirius and grief over him, but those who knew her well saw only a wolf — Remus. And Molly certainly knew Tonks well.

It was, of course, hopeless. Molly knew that as well as the next person. Remus was too guilt-ridden and stubborn to let anyone in, no matter how much he loved them. He did love Tonks, she could just tell. He always looked at her with an odd light in his eyes, always asked after her, always tried to spend as much time as he could with her. Molly didn't even think he noticed it as a conscious habit. Love had a way of sneaking up on you.

Molly beamed fondly, thinking of Arthur. Yes, it certainly did…

She couldn't approve of the way Remus was handling it, though. He had been conspicuously absent for the past fortnight, on the grounds that he was on his spy mission for Dumbledore — where, he hadn't said. And Tonks was more depressed than ever. She hadn't been there for a couple of weeks, abandoning them right after Remus left.

In fact, Molly thought with a frown as she checked her watch, she should be here by now. It's nearly eleven. Can't say much for Tonks's promptness lately. Still, though…times like these, she could be held up…

Molly felt vaguely teary just thinking about it, but at that moment, there came a knock at the door.

Despite the fact that it was most certainly Tonks, her chest tightened. "Declare yourself!" she called at the door.

"It's me, Molly," came a depressed voice. "I mean, it's me, Nymphadora Tonks. Oh, hang on…right, what's Ginny's favorite color?"

Molly couldn't help but smile furtively. "Bottle green. And for you, what's the one thing you can't live without?"

A pause. Molly's heart skipped a beat. But then the answer came:

"I'll lie and say that it's the quilt my brother gave me before going overseas. But we both know that the answer has changed."

Molly's matronly heart melted. She hadn't known it ran this deep for the young woman, that it would change her identification answer. "Oh, Tonks, poor lamb," she murmured, swinging the door open.

Tonks took one look at her and burst into tears.

Molly was horrified and touched at the same time. "Oh, darling, come in, oh, don't cry…" she soothed Tonks, wrapping an arm around her and leading the sobbing young woman into the kitchen. Tonks sat blindly, tears still pouring down her wan face.

Molly quickly set some water boiling with a flick of her wand, then sat across from Tonks. Reaching over the table, she took Tonks's hands in her own. "Now, dear, why don't you tell me what's troubling you?" she suggested, even though she knew.

Tonks wasn't stupid. She yanked her hands away and dashed the tears off her face. "Oh, Molly, please don't play the fool," she sniffed piteously. "You know perfectly well what's troubling me."

"Well, yes," Molly admitted cautiously. "I do have a general idea. But if, perhaps, you could tell me exactly…?" She let the question hang in the air between them — not pushing just yet, merely casual and curious. You had to play these games with an unwilling youngster.

To her surprise, it worked right away. This was sad in and of itself: Tonks, so independent, was caving in and spilling what had happened, docile and sad.

"You know how the two of us had been talking," she began shakily, still sniffing and wiping away tears. "About…well, you know. Except that was only half of what bothered me. The other half was – was him. A couple weeks ago, the night before he left, I told him. I told him I love him. And he – he – he…"

Tonks's face crumpled under a new onslaught of tears.

Molly clucked sympathetically and got to her feet, fixing a hot cup of tea, her mind clicking away.

She loves him, he loves her. He turned her away, though, and now she's in a worse state than ever.

Molly was at loss for what to do. There were only two ways to fix it, and both of them relied on the dubious temperament of either Tonks or Remus. Neither way was entirely likely to happen.

But for now, at least, she could offer a listening ear and hear more of what specifically nagged at Tonks's mind. Molly turned and offered Tonks the cup of tea, which the young woman accepted gratefully. She had her forehead propped on one hand, almost shielding her face, as if she was too tired to raise her head herself and was trying to hide from the world. Molly's heart broke just a little more for her.

"Now, how has it made you feel? Besides the obvious, of course," she added quickly as Tonks opened her mouth furiously to respond.

Tonks closed her mouth and sighed hopelessly. "It makes me feel…not good enough. Like I'm not special enough for him." Her eyes filled yet again. "Like I'm worthless."

"Oh, Nymphadora." Molly squeezed one of her hands. "If his reaction is any indication, he thinks you're too good for him, too special. You…well, you know how Remus is. Guilty. He wouldn't want to tie you down."

"Why are you taking his side?" Tonks snapped.

"I'm not," Molly explained calmly. "I'm simply trying to clear up his point of view."

Tonks wilted. "Then I don't want to be so special," she whispered miserably. "I'd rather be below average and have him love me than be this 'special' and have him think I'm too good for him."

"Don't wish for that, Nymphadora. It's who you are now that makes him love you." As soon as she'd said it, Molly could have bitten off her own tongue.

Tonks raised her head and peered at Molly with red-rimmed eyes. "He doesn't love me," she argued stubbornly.

Molly sighed, growing exasperated. "Nymphadora, I know you. When you were talking to him about how you felt, you asked him if he loved you, and he refused to answer."

Tonks looked away. "He doesn't love me," she mumbled, less sure this time.

"Tonks, he does love you, and that's why he wouldn't answer. He can't lie, you know him. Maybe he even subconsciously hopes that one day you two will be together. But he also couldn't say yes, and make refusal even more painful for you."

"He's doing a damn good job without saying yes," Tonks said bitterly. She looked up into Molly's knowing face with huge, pleading eyes. "Molly, I don't understand him. It would be one thing if I didn't know about his condition. But I do, and I love him for it anyway."

"It's a burden he doesn’t want to share."

"Isn't that the point of a burden, though, to have someone else help relieve you of it after you've learned your lesson?"

"Remus doesn't see it that way. He sees it as his problem, and his alone. He's been hurt so in his life that he can't bear to think of having someone he loves hurt the same way."

Tonks was quiet for moment, save for a solitary sniffle. Then she muttered, "I was really good at Potions, even if Snape was a git…I'll bet I could make a Wolfsbane Potion with enough practice…"

Molly couldn't help but chuckle at Tonks's zeal, but subsided at Tonks's doleful glance. "Oh, come, I'm not laughing at you. I think it's wonderful and noble what you want to do for him, and the both of you certainly deserve some love in your lives. I was just thinking that it's a sweet idea."

"Wasted on him, though," Tonks grumbled. "Molly, how do you get over someone?"

Molly laughed, then sighed. "Oh, dear, if I knew, I would tell you."

Tonks glanced her curiously. "Haven't you had to get over anyone?"

Molly hesitated, then plowed on. After all, it was an encouraging sort of story, though granted, she'd never told anyone before…

"Well, technically, I should have. I had a crush of the worst sort when I was a first-year. The boy was absolutely adorable, and such a sweet lad too!" Molly turned pink with pleasure and leaned in conspiratorially. "They always thought I seemed less clever than I was, but it was only because I daydreamed about him too much!"

Tonks was smiling a bit by now, which made Molly very proud. Lately, it was a near-impossible feat. "What happened with him?"

"Well, by fifth year, I decided to try to forget him. It seemed useless. He wasn't particularly sought after, and nor was I, but he never paid extra attention to me. By then, we knew each other enough to chat occasionally, but that was it. So I tried.

"But Nymphadora, darling, it is far harder than it seems. I did try, with all my might, but every time it seemed that I might be able to move on, he'd do something that would make me fall in love with him all over again. My heart was wrenched this way and that every day that year.

"Imagine my surprise, then, when right after O.W.L.S, this boy came up to me – shyly, but he did so – and said that he felt so confident about how he'd done on O.W.L.S. that he'd mustered up the courage to do what he'd wanted to since second year: ask me to go with him." Molly beamed.

By now, Tonks had forgotten her tears and was listening with avid interest. At this point in the story, another small smile graced her elfin features. "That's so romantic," she sighed. "I'm not even one for romance, really, but that's such a lovely story."

"It is, isn't it? We dated all through Hogwarts."

"What was his name?" Tonks queried curiously.

If anything, Molly's smile stretched even wider. "His name," she said slowly, with relish, "was and is Arthur Weasley."

Tonks swallowed, her eyes huge, hope filling them. "Really?"

"Yes." Molly squeezed one of Tonks's hands. "It happened to me. So don't give up just yet, Nymphadora. Remus will come around."

At the mention of the name, Tonks deflated, suddenly small and sad again. "I doubt it. This isn't Hogwarts anymore, Molly. It's harder. He's very stubborn, you know that."

"Well, you'll just have to work on him, won't you? It's not like you to give up without a fight, dear. I've known you for more than a year now, and in all that time, you always had to have the last word. This should be no different." Molly let her voice grow a little stern at these last words.

Tonks took another sip of tea. "But it is different, Molly. I don't know why, but it is. This…this rejection, this situation, this man…they take so much out of me. They sap me. I have no Metamorphmagus powers anymore. I'm surprised I even have magic left."

"If you think like that, Nymphadora, then you won't," Molly said severely. "Now, I think you should try to pull yourself together. Don't give up on him, but don't go around moping all the time. Your long face is doing no one any good."

Tonks sighed hopelessly. "I'll try, Molly, I really will, but I don't think it's going to do much good. I don't like this slump either, but every time I try to move on in the least little bit, I see his face and…" Tonks gestured wordlessly in front of her, eyes bright with unshed tears.

Molly melted and hugged the young woman. "Yes, yes, I know. Now just finish up that tea while I make sure the soup doesn't boil over, and you can talk to me while we do this."

Tonks did, bemoaning Remus's nature and repeatedly wondering why he was doing this. But she also shared memories of him.

"It's funny," Tonks said, snorting derisively. "When I didn't love him so much, I had so many wonderful times with him. And now that I do love him, it seems that all he does is cause me pain. I know he'd never want to do that, but if he doesn't want it, then why won't he just admit he loves me and be done with it? If he does love me, as you say."

Molly sighed. "Love is like that. And as for Remus…I've answered this. I think you know it, Tonks."

"Yeah, I do," she replied dully, another tear trickling down her cheek.

Molly was about to offer more sympathy when there came three knocks at the door. She dropped the soup ladle into the bowl with a splash, her heart all a-flutter. Tonks, she noted, hadn't even the heart to stir herself for this possible threat; she merely sat, staring into her half-finished mug of tea.

No time for her now, though, Molly thought distractedly. "Who's there?" she called shakily. "Declare yourself!"

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry," came the welcome and unmistakable voice of Albus Dumbledore.

Molly was not expecting him yet, but she didn't bother to ask the identification question. She flung the door open and beamed at the two. Harry smiled back; she was glad to see him well after what had happened in the Department of Mysteries, even if he was a bit peaky.

"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!" she said somewhat reprovingly as she stepped back to let the two enter. It struck her that Harry hadn't seen Tonks in her new state yet; how would he react?

"We were lucky," said Dumbledore. He steered Harry inside. "Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected." At this point, he saw Tonks. "Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

Molly saw Harry crane his neck about and finally spy Tonks. A faint frown of confusion crossed his features.

"Hello, Professor," Tonks managed to greet them. "Wotcher, Harry."

It was almost pathetic, the way she was trying to pretend she was all right, by using her old catch phrase. The fact was, she'd never looked more ill than at that moment. Harry murmured a greeting, clearly bemused.

Obviously, she didn't feel comfortable staying. "I'd better be off," she added hastily, leaping to her feet and unfurling her cloak. She paused, giving Molly a subtly grateful look. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

Dumbledore appeared to think his presence unnerved her; Molly was perfectly aware that he knew the situation, however. "Please don't leave on my account," he told Tonks. "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

"No, no, I need to get going," Tonks said, averting her face. Molly realized that she was attempting to hide the tearstains on her pale face. "'Night — "

Molly made one last effort. A bit of matchmaking never hurt…"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming — ?"

She put slight emphasis on Remus's name. Mad-Eye, in fact, was not scheduled to come, but he could be persuaded.

It was useless; Tonks, at this stage, did not want to be near Remus. "No, really, Molly…thanks anyway…Good night, everyone."

And she was gone.

Molly could not keep an expression of concern off her face. This was getting quite serious, and unless one of the two gave way, both of their lives would suffer greatly.


~*~


At three o'clock in the morning, when Molly should have been fast asleep, she penned this letter:

Dear Remus,

It's time to stop pretending nothing is happening between you and one Nymphadora Tonks. You're making her life a misery, you know, and whether you realize it or not, you're going to ruin your own if you don't tell her you love her. And don't deny it, Remus, I know perfectly well that you love her. Can't you accept a good thing for once? You've had such a broken life, Remus, that you deserve something nice for once. A little bit of love will do nobody harm, and in this case will do a great deal of good. You're being absurd, and I certainly hope you think about this enough to come to a better, happier decision.

Love,

Molly

She received this answer some time later, two nights before he was to come to dinner at the Burrow a second time:

Dear Molly,

To be honest, I should have expected this. I'm surprised that the others haven't started in on me yet. Molly, I won't deny that I love her, but if you tell her that I don't think I'd be able to forgive you. Haven't you seen that my broken life has made me a broken man? I can't give that to her. She can't have second best. There's someone better for her out there, someone young, not careworn, normal. I hate to see Tonks so depressed; but I'd hate even more to see her with someone like me.

Love,

Remus

And that, Molly concluded angrily, was that.


~*~
She wants him, he wants her too
Broken message coming through
Same story for different fools…

Disclaimer: See previous chapter. Song quote courtesy of "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5.





A FAREWELL OF SORTS





Remus Lupin knew what he was doing in this matter. He had known precisely what he should do for his whole life. This problem staggered him a bit, admittedly, because the love he felt for Tonks nearly won out against his guilt. But in the end, guilt won. It always did.

He was going to the Burrow for his dinner, and though he knew Tonks had been invited, Mr. Weasley told him that she probably wouldn't show. This added a new layer to his guilt, but the older bands of sorrow were too deep to be penetrated.

Remus checked Kingsley's clock and sighed. It was time to go. He half-wanted to stay home with a good book rather than face Mrs. Weasley's cluckings and scoldings and Mad-Eye's suggestions; but there was nothing for it.

"Kingsley!" he called. "I'm off to the Burrow!"

"Right," the older man answered. "Tell Molly I'm sorry I couldn't make this one, but I might try to stop in next week."

"Will do." Remus stepped forward, turned, and Apparated.

When he reappeared, he was in the front yard of the Burrow, facing Alastor Moody.

"Could've given an old man heart failure," Moody said, glaring balefully from his good eye.

Remus smiled; he doubted much could actually cause tough old Moody's heart to give out. "I'm sorry, Alastor."

They started up the walk together. "Heard from young Tonks lately?" Moody asked shrewdly.

Remus couldn't help it; he winced slightly. "No."

"Ah, well, that's your own fault," Moody told him bluntly, managing to make this remark conversational. "She's a bit of all right, even if she does insist on keeping her wand in her back pocket. Pretty, only girl I've ever seen who could pull off that pink hair. It's brown now, though."

Remus blinked. "Still?"

"Aye. More depressed than ever, that one is. Evening, Molly."

They'd reached the front door. Moody stepped in first, greeted with a warm smile from Mrs. Weasley. It turned somewhat frostier when she saw Remus.

He sighed. "Oh, Molly…"

"Remus, it's just that you're disappointing me," she hissed.

"Molly, please, I'd rather not talk about it at this moment." He smiled at her weakly.

Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms. "You're going to have to face it eventually." She stared at Remus, tapping her foot and clicking her tongue. He was at loss for what to do.

"Tonks is here tonight, you know," she said into the silence.

Remus was startled, but recovered. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Did she know I was coming?"

"Yes, she did."

"…How did you get her to come?"

Mrs. Weasley glared. "She came of her own accord. Now come in, I can't stand here all night, the soup will boil over!"

Remus refrained from saying that he had been standing quite patiently at the threshold, waiting for her to step aside. "Well, it will be nice to see her."

But it wouldn't. Remus couldn't bear to see what he was doing to Tonks. Then again, he couldn't bear to see her tied down with him. Either way, he lost. He was used to it by now.

Harry and Ron were sitting at a table, playing Exploding Snap. Ron saw him first. "Hey, Professor!"

Harry swiveled in his seat and gave a friendly wave. Remus was glad to see him alert and reasonably happy after Sirius's death. He, too, was managing to get on with life…

"Ron, I've told you several times, there's really no need to call me 'Professor' anymore," Remus said. "After all, I'm hardly teaching anywhere."

Harry grinned. "I hardly think you were calling Professor McGonagall by her first name when you were our age."

Remus smiled ruefully. "True enough. Hello, Hermione."

"Good evening, Professor Lupin," the girl said primly, setting aside her book long enough to say this.

Remus shook his head. Hopeless.

The sound of a woman's leaden voice behind him made him freeze. Then, with effort, he turned.

Moody was greeting Tonks, who was sitting at the table with Ginny. Remus was shocked at her appearance: along with limp brown hair, her face was bone white, with purple shadows that nearly rivaled his own under her sunken eyes. Her frame was thin to the point of malnutrition.

In short, Remus thought, dismayed, we're starting to look disturbingly alike.

Gamely, he walked over to the three. "Hello, Ginny." He smiled at her briefly, a gesture that she returned.

Remus unconsciously took a breath. "It's nice to see you, Tonks." He extended a hand hopefully.

She stared up at him dully, anger stirring deep in her dark eyes. "Remus." She took his hand and shook it roughly; her hand was fragile and bony in his. Then she shoved his callused hand away as if it burned.

His heart tightened. She hated him, and he couldn't blame her for that. But I didn't know it would be this hard…

Moody had disappeared. Ginny glanced between them curiously, opening her mouth. To stay her questions, Remus asked, "How have you been doing in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ginny?"

She immediately forgot about Tonks's coldness. Remus thanked whoever was listening for the flightiness of teenagers' minds. "Oh, you know, not as well as I did when you were my teacher," she said, grinning. Ginny hadn't been particularly proficient at Defense Against the Dark Arts, if only because Lockhart had been her only teacher so far. She had gotten better under Remus's tutelage.

"Still, as you ended up as one of my best second-year students, I'd say that's excellent," he encouraged briskly. Ginny beamed and went back poring over a Quidditch magazine.

Remus glanced about helplessly. The Weasley parents were in the kitchen; Ron and Harry were still playing Exploding Snap; Ginny and Hermione were both engrossed in their reads; Moody was nowhere to be found.

Tonks suddenly jerked her head up and gave Remus a brittle smile. "Remus, could I talk to you over there?" She pointed to the corner of the room.

You knew this was coming, he thought, even as he acquiesced and walked with her. This is Tonks. No matter how much it seems that she's changed, the fact remains that she's nearly as set in her ways as you are.

Tonks turned and faced him, the fury in her eyes all too apparent. If it wasn't so serious, and if Remus didn't love her the way he secretly did, he would have laughed. As it were…

"Remus," she hissed, "I'm not giving up."

He held up a hand gently. "Tonks, I don't think this is the best time — "

"Well, I do!" Sparks practically flew from her eyes. "Remus, I don't want to hear your werewolf sob story." Remus took a step back, unnerved. "Are you trying to tell me there's a whole section of the wizarding world that lives alone, without any love, or any real reason to live?"

"No," he replied seriously. "Those without morals are all too willing to shove their affliction onto someone else."

Tonks waved a threatening finger under his nose. "Then lose your bloody morals!"

Remus smiled sadly down at her. "I can't, Tonks. I can't give up my morals any more than you can give up your persistence and spirit."

She laughed bitterly and stared him straight in the eye, daring him to defy her. "What spirit, Lupin? You're sucking it out of me."

"Time to eat!" Mrs. Weasley called cheerfully.

Tonks brushed past him rudely, leaving him standing rooted to the spot. For the first time ever, she'd called him 'Lupin.'

"Remus?"

Tall, thin, balding Mr. Weasley laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Remus forced himself to nod. "Fine. I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy."

"Ah, well, it is nearing the full moon," Mr. Weasley agreed sympathetically. Something in his eye, though, told Remus that the other man knew exactly what was the matter.

And he had to remind me, Remus thought dejectedly. The full moon this time around will be especially brutal.

They took their seats. Remus ended up near Mrs. Weasley, who was at the head, at one end of the table, only two seats to the left of Tonks. Harry sat between them, about which he was grateful.

Mrs. Weasley beamed around at the table. "Well, go on, everyone! Eat up!"

"With pleasure," Moody rumbled, eyeing the potatoes hungrily.

They dug in without reserve, passing platters back and forth as they took their share. The teenagers drank butterbeer; Mr. Weasley broke out a bottle of vintage red wine for the adults. Remus looked at it in askance — he never came in close contact with spirits, disliking the heady feeling they gave him. Who knew what he might do, what he might say in that state…?

Still, he rationalized to himself, one cup wouldn't hurt, and I fear it would injure their feelings if I didn't.

He sipped gingerly and winced. He'd forgotten that he wasn't a great fan of the fermented joy that was wine. He hastily hid his disgust as a cough.

Conversations broke out all about the dinner table. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were talking about one of Gilderoy Lockhart's old books; Ginny and Ron were locked in a heated battle about the Chudley Cannons; Moody and Mr. Weasley were attempting to draw Tonks into a discussion about the Order and failing.

Remus turned to Harry. "By the way, Harry, sorry for disrupting your birthday tea the other day. I wasn't thinking straight."

Harry shrugged, shaking his head. "No problem, Professor."

Remus hesitated, then plunged on. "How are you…feeling? This must have been a hard summer, after…"

To his surprise, Harry looked him straight in the eye, a thoughtful, calculating expression on his face. "It's strange, but I'm feeling fine. Great, actually. You'd think I'd be more bothered, but…" He shuddered slightly. "I am trying to put it behind me. To be honest, Professor, I'm more worried about you."

"Me?" Remus was surprised, but also moved. "Why, Harry?"

"Well, I mean, you were his best friend…you knew him for far longer than I did…and I mean, you'd already lost my mum and dad…" Harry was suddenly nervous. "This isn't bothering you, is it?"

Remus swallowed hard then shook his head, a twisted smile on his haggard face. "No. No, Harry. I'm glad you'll talk about this."

A slight frown appeared between Harry's eyebrows. "Professor, d'you know what's bothering Tonks? I dunno, it's really weird…I've never seen her so dark before…I've only known her for a year, but this seems the type of thing that's rather out of character for her…"

Of all the people to ask, Harry had to ask him.

Remus was vaguely aware that Harry was continuing. "…Said you were talking to her about survivors' guilt."

He roused himself. "I was. I thought we'd worked through it, but it seems there's still something bothering her, and unfortunately I don't have the time to help anymore."

He'd told the truth. He was only guilty of a lie of omission.

Harry still looked faintly perturbed. "Still, though, doesn't make much sense…it's almost as if she's hanging on a bit too long to it…frankly, it was my fault you all had to be there in the first place, but…" He shuddered again, suddenly and briskly. "Never mind. What've you been doing lately, Professor?"

The question caught him so off-guard that he started answering before he caught himself. "A mission — well, not really, just Order business. You know."

"Right, I see," Harry said, nodding. He opened his mouth to make another query, but at that opportune moment, Ron butted in to ask Harry's opinion on Quidditch that year at Hogwarts. Remus was secretly glad. It was difficult to lie to Harry, just as it had always been with James – and Sirius, for that matter – and the more questions Harry asked about the Order, the more Remus felt he'd find himself telling the boy.

Man, really, he thought distantly as he watched Harry throw himself into the discussion animatedly. He's grown up quite a bit, even from last year.

Mrs. Weasley left and reappeared with a large treacle tart, which she placed hopefully near Tonks. Her efforts were wasted: Tonks accepted her slice with good cheer but could only pick at it, as she'd done with the rest of her dinner; she claimed she had a bit of a stomach bug. Remus felt a sick pang in his own stomach — Tonks could never resist any portion of treacle tart. He stared at his piece and poked at it politely, suddenly losing his appetite.

Mrs. Weasley glanced at him worriedly. "Not hungry, Remus? You're all right, aren't you?"

He smiled reassuringly. "Of course, Molly. I just ate too much of the dinner, that's all. It's hard not to stuff oneself at your table."

She beamed. "Well, I'm glad you've got one decent meal, anyway. I can't imagine what they must cook at…well, where you're staying now, and I know Kingsley's not exactly a master chef — you're starting to look positively starved, Remus. I can see the bones in your face, poor lamb. You really should eat more."

Her warm, disarming manner caught him. "It's not exactly food that's a problem," he said in a low voice, staring at his plate.

"Ah." The hint of steel was back in her voice. "So you're hankering after something other than food. You are starting to look remarkably like — "

"Molly." His quiet voice stayed her words. "It's not hankering. It's just more guilt."

"Not grief?" she shot back sharply.

He hesitated for too long. "No," he answered slowly. "Not grief…"

Frustrated love.

"Remus, if you'd just give in, you'd both be happier for it."

A smile momentarily lit his face; but it faded as quickly as it had appeared. "So now you're matchmaking? Molly, what a price that happiness would have…fettering in someone young, who ought to be free? Placing my troubles on another back? I couldn't do that, Molly, for all the happiness in the world."

"Like it or not, you've already fettered her in, so stop being so selfish," she replied briskly, turning to admonish Ron for talking with his mouth full.

Remus ran an absent hand through his hair – still full, but growing grayer by the day – and reflected on what she'd just said. It was true, but he didn't want to face it.

"Mum, can we go?" Ron asked, swallowing his last bite of pie with difficulty.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Fine, go on."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all jumped up. "'Bye!" they chorused.

Harry paused. "Will you write, Professor?"

Again, Remus had to swallow the suspicious lump in his throat before answering. "I'll try, Harry."

Harry grinned and followed the others to the door. Then he turned around. "Ginny, you coming?"

"Nah, you three go ahead. I'll stay down and be social." Ginny grinned at Harry, who did so back. Remus hid a smile behind his hand. Those Potter boys do have a thing with spunky redheads…

This meant that all the children were gone except for Ginny, who was now reading a spellbook in the corner of the room and not really paying much attention to adult conversation.

"So, Remus, how's the mission going?" Mr. Weasley asked quietly.

Remus sipped his wine briefly. "It's…difficult. They don't like my rational views, and not many are big fans of Dumbledore. I can't come out and say I'm a supporter of his, so I just feign that I'm neutral and I make arguments for both sides. Trouble is, my type of arguing includes words, whereas they understand fists better." He smiled wryly. "I manage to stay away from that. It also doesn't help that I'm under the command of Fenrir Greyback, who's the only reason I could fit into a werewolf society."

Mr. Weasley gasped. "He…bit you?"

Remus nodded grimly.

Moody snorted. "Old Greyback. That's something, that you were bitten by him."

"You make it sound like some sort of honor," Remus said lightly.

"It's not," Moody snapped. "I went to school with that rotten b — " Moody caught Mrs. Weasley's eye, glanced at Ginny, and changed his word choice. " — bloke. He was a ruthless bully. Only thing we can be grateful for is that he got his bite after he left Hogwarts, otherwise I'd likely be in your situation." Moody raised his hip flask to Remus and drank deeply.

Remus fingered his goblet, unsure of what to say. He turned to Tonks. "Where are you posted?"

"I'm going to Hogsmeade at the start of Hogwarts," she mumbled. Then she glared at him. "Remus — "

Moody interrupted. "So, Tonks…"

Remus gave him a swift look. Was it just him, or did Moody just issue a wink?

"…Your hair isn't so bright as it used to be. Glad of that. The Bubblegum Eyesore, I liked to call it."

Moody bared his teeth in what he probably thought was a smile but looked more like a snarl. Tonks just watched him, sullen. "Funny, Mad-Eye. Hilarious, in fact. My side hurts."

"Well, it should, if you're as ill as you say," he growled.

Remus bit back a groan. He should have known. Moody was generally serious and grouchy, but had his fun at times. His favorite sport, besides fulfilling his paranoia and catching Death Eaters, was poking fun at and challenging Tonks, who, he'd discovered, was baited easily. He had an extra advantage on Tonks now.

And Tonks knew it too. "Don't you dare."

Moody shrugged. "I was just saying. No denying you're ill, though, look a right sight, frankly. Why don't you do something with that hair? Maybe not pink, but a nice cheerful green, perhaps. It'll match how you're feeling."

"Alastor."

Remus couldn't help himself. "Leave her alone. We're enjoying a dinner, we don't need any conflict." Mr. Weasley smiled at him from the end of the table.

Suddenly, Tonks's chin shot up defiantly, the most life she'd shown all evening. "This does match how I'm feeling, Mad-Eye. Brown. Dull. Useless." Her eyes flickered to Remus.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the table; even Ginny looked up from her book to peer at them intently, frowning.

"If you mean a brighter color, though, it wouldn't be green or pink. It would be red," Tonks commented into the tension.

Moody raised an eyebrow. "What, love?"

Tonks stared him straight in the eye. "Anger, I think."

"More wine!" Mr. Weasley practically yelped, passing the bottle to Moody. "I think we could use the…use the, er…" He quailed under his wife's scathing glance.

"More wine isn't the answer," she said reprovingly.

"Then what is?" he asked helplessly.

If I leave, Remus thought. Tonks would stop arguing back to prove her point to me. Or, if she does, at least I won't have to hear it. It's bad enough as it is.

Remus stood, dusting off his ragged robes. "I think I'd better be off, it's getting rather late."

Tonks jumped up. "Oh, no! I forgot! I was supposed to deliver a potion to Hestia. She trusts me because she knows I'm a top-rate potion-maker." Tonks glowered at him pointedly.

He changed his mind, trying to avoid another private confrontation. He normally wouldn't do this, but he was afraid that eventually he'd give in to her. "Or I could stay a bit longer," Remus added somewhat feebly.

Tonks plopped down in her chair. "Never mind. Forgot I did it last night." Her eyes were scorching him.

Moody had an uncharacteristic Cheshire Cat grin on his face; Molly was looking at Remus expectantly; Mr. Weasley merely stared at his plate and twiddled his thumbs.

Remus sighed. There was absolutely no way he could avoid this. "All right," he said, defeated. He nodded at the Weasleys. "Thanks for a delicious dinner, Molly, and good talking to you, Arthur. Alastor, I'll see you sometime." He raised his eyebrows at Tonks. "Are we saying goodbye here, or at the door?"

She folded her arms and scowled at him. "Well, much as I'd like to do it here, I think the door would suit better," she said icily. "Thanks, Molly and Arthur. Mad-Eye." She nodded at the old man curtly and stalked out of the room, leaving Remus to catch up.

The silence was deafening as they walked.

At the door, Remus decided he was no worse off for trying. He smiled at her, said, "Well, lovely to see you again," and made an attempt at exiting.

A firm, gripping hand on his shoulder stopped him. "No, Remus," Tonks told him. "We have to talk."

He rotated slowly. Her face was no longer angry, but sad. Not the wild, desperate sadness of before, but a quiet melancholy that was worse than the frenzy. He recognized it and recoiled from it, because it reflected the face he saw every morning in the mirror.

She was turning into him.

"You see it," she whispered. "I know you do. That's what you're doing to me, Remus, and that's what will continue if you keep rejecting me."

Remus was horrified. "Tonks, don't think of it as 'rejection.' Think of it as…as…"

But try as he might, Remus could not think of a word that exactly fitted what he was doing.

Her smile was bitter. "That's the problem, Remus. Even you can't deny it."

Remus surrendered. "Call it rejection if that's how you see fit, although I'd hoped you'd understand my motives."

Tonks sighed. "You're sure you won't — "

"I'm sure."

"Remus, if it's about the werewolf thing, I don't understand why you think I'd care; I've even seen you transform without Wolfsbane, and it doesn't bother me because I know you're still Remus — "

"When have you seen me transform?" he interrupted rather sharply.

She shrugged. "Couple nights at Grimmauld Place. There was a knothole in the door of the room you used, and I…watched. Because I loved you and I wanted to understand. And I wasn't afraid of it, Remus. It wasn't terrifying for me to see. The only painful thing about it was having to watch you inflict pain upon yourself and know I had no way of helping you. And I wanted to help you so much. I can help now…"

"No," Remus said, wondering why he'd listened even to this much. "No, Tonks. We're all too overburdened as it is, and I couldn't have it resting on me that I'd given another responsibility to you. I can't."

Anger sparkled in her eyes again. "I haven't given up, you know."

He nodded gravely. "I know, Tonks."

She pressed her lips together tightly. "If you'd only tell me whether you love me or not it might be better…"

Remus shook his head. "You know I can't, Tonks. It would only make matters worse. And you know that too."

She didn't answer, only reached up her hand and stroked his cheek lightly. He shivered, his resolve weakening…

"Tonks," he whispered, "don't."

And he stepped back into the yard, retreating until her motionless form was only a dark silhouette. He stepped, turned, and Apparated back to the dark, empty flat. A surprisingly chill breeze blew in through the open window.

It suited him.


Please don't try so hard
To say goodbye...

Disclaimer: I make no claims to Harry Potter. Song quote courtesy of the song "Listen to Your Heart" by Roxette/DHT.




CHRISTMAS MEMORIES





It was nearing Christmas, and Tonks felt no sense of cheer whatsoever.

Her life had taken a steady downward spiral after that night, and the past five months had done her no good at all. Everyone noticed, and everyone knew why. Even Snape. Even Dumbledore. Everyone.

She hadn't seen Remus in the entire time, hadn't heard from him, hadn't heard much about him — she was rather secluded in Hogsmeade. It helped that she did know that he wasn't corresponding with anyone else, not even Harry.

Tonks, striding through the halls of Hogwarts, searched for the boy and his comrades, but didn't see them. The halls were mostly deserted, as it was so close to Christmas, and those who remained in the drafty castle or had yet to leave for home were bundled up near the fires in their common rooms.

For a moment, Tonks even smiled reminiscently, thinking of her days in Hogwarts, before Voldemort's new crusade, before becoming an Auror, before her troubles with confusing and devastating men…

Tonks shook her mousy brown head briskly and reached the statue in front of Dumbledore's office. "Sugar Quill," she said to it. The gargoyle sprang to life, and Tonks stepped onto the revolving staircase.

As she ascended, she heard the sound of voices. One, as she neared the office, she recognized immediately as Dumbledore's calm, mild lilt. The other was harder to discern, but when she did, she groaned. It was Snape.

The stairway shuddered to a halt, and Tonks found herself in front of the door. She knocked.

"Ah, it must…yes, of course. Do come in, Nymphadora."

Blinking with surprise, she opened the door and slipped in. Dumbledore's office was just as curious and mysterious as always. In contrast, Snape, who by appearances was preparing to leave, looked distinctly out of place.

Tonks nodded to him sullenly, unable to forgive him for the jab at her Patronus. Although they were definitely not close, Snape's penetrating mind had jumped to the correct conclusion that it was Remus as a wolf.

He sneered at her as he approached the office door. "Ah, Miss Tonks. Still wallowing in despair over a man? Well, half a man, I suppose. Tsk, tsk." He showed not a whit of concern on his face as he inspected his long-fingered white hands.

A loathing unlike anything she'd ever felt filled her, and before Tonks could stop herself, she plunged her hand into the pocket of her robes and whipped her wand out, pointing it at his heart, or lack of heart, as the case might have been.

"Don't think I won't do it," she panted. "I will hex you if you give me a reason…if you say one more thing…"

"Not in my office, if you please, Nymphadora. Although I doubt it would be beneficent anywhere," Dumbledore interrupted blandly. "Severus, remember what I've told you. I'd like to have a private word with Nymphadora, if you don't mind."

Tonks was intrigued; Snape merely looked bored and somewhat resentful. He bowed to Dumbledore, smirked at Tonks, and left in a billowing of black cloak.

Dumbledore turned to Tonks, who was grumbling at the door darkly. He smiled at her gently. "I apologize. Severus is…well, he's Severus."

"Yeah, I know," she muttered. "It's okay, we're all used to him. Well, not used to him, exactly, but we – those in the Order, that is – realize he's a snarky git – sorry, Professor, but it's true – and know he's not going to change. Usually we can defend ourselves, or at least ignore him."

"Yet he managed to make a comment that baited you and caused you to lose your temper," he remarked quietly. Tonks blushed furiously.

Dumbledore walked back to his desk. Tonks narrowed her eyes, wondering whether it was her or if he really was limping. His hand was still just as black and shriveled as ever.

"Please, take a seat," he offered, doing so and indicating she should do so as well. She did, slumping back in the comfortable armchair with a sigh. It had been a long day of standing out in the cold doing nothing.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. He's probably the only person in the world who can do that and not look completely evil, Tonks thought distractedly. Except for me, because I look so pathetic I couldn't frighten a flea. And Remus…

"So, what's this private word about?" Tonks asked bluntly, desperately breaking apart her own train of thought.

Dumbledore smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "I am merely curious, Nymphadora, as to where you are spending your holidays. Will you stay with your parents, or will you accept the Weasleys' invitation?"

Tonks blinked again, dumbstruck. It was odd for Dumbledore to take such an interest in an Order member's affairs. "Actually, I was planning on hiding out in my apartment," she told him, startled into speaking frankly.

"Hiding out?" His voice was soft and not in any way prodding; yet she suddenly felt interrogated.

"Not exactly," she protested defiantly. "It's just, you know, a figure of speech."

Dumbledore leaned forward. "It's merely that I'm surprised, Nymphadora. You're so social — " Tonks checked his face to see if he was being sarcastic; he wasn't. " — that it's almost unnatural for you to remain alone during Christmas season."

Tonks slumped down even further, her face bright red. This was too much. It was enough that he was concerned about her social life; it was enough that Mrs. Weasley was matchmaking; but it pushed the limits when Dumbledore started interfering in her love life.

"Professor Dumbledore, really, if you're talking about…well, it's under control…all right, not control, but it's…it's not something I can do anything about…I've tried, and it's useless…so maybe I'd just better avoid it…"

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Professor, not to be rude or anything, but please…it's enough that everyone else is prodding it like a sore tooth," Tonks mumbled. "I don't need…I mean, I don't want…"

Dumbledore chuckled. "An old man's input is not entirely welcome?"

Tonks sighed. "In so many words, yes."

"I understand perfectly, Nymphadora. I admit, it is merely an issue of light concern with me. As I like to say, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Besides, you are barely yourself without pink hair."

Tonks grinned lopsidedly for a moment. "Yeah, I've heard."

Dumbledore paused, surveying her, then continued gravely. "You are not the only one suffering in this, er, relationship, or unfortunate lack thereof."

Tonks bristled. "Don't you dare — I mean, Professor, really, don't tell me that Remus is having a hard time too, because all this is his fault in the first place!"

"Do you know what it's doing to him to have to refuse you over and over when he really would like to say yes?"

She winced. Despite what Mrs. Weasley, and now Dumbledore, said, she couldn't believe that Remus loved her. "Please, Professor, don't. It's…I'd rather not think about it."

Dumbledore nodded. "I concede and accept that you'd rather not speak of it. More to the point of this meeting, Nymphadora, is to inform you that you are officially off-duty for the holidays starting now."

Tonks swallowed hard, barely believing it. "But Professor, I – I was under the impression that I'd have only a couple days off! D'you mean…?"

"You are to have the entire holiday season off, up to the start of the new year," Dumbledore informed her, blue eyes twinkling. "You've done quite enough for us, and you deserve a nice long vacation. A bonus, if you will. Go, relax, and please, try to set your mind at ease."

Tonks looked down, abashed. "I'll try, Professor. And thanks. For everything."

"My pleasure."

Dumbledore saw her out the door and onto the staircase. At the bottom, Tonks wandered into the hallway, lost in thought.

The whole holiday season for a break, when many others would be working the whole time! Tonks felt blessed, guilty, and…

Resentful?

She was. She had nothing left to live for these days except for work, which kept her mind off of…things. She had nowhere to go for the holidays except her empty apartment. The whole season of sitting around in the dark, eating chocolate and feeling sorry for herself, dwelling on memories that she wished had never happened…

"Hi, Tonks!"

Tonks whipped her head around and smiled feebly at Ginny. The smile came out more as a grimace, and Tonks regretted it. "Wotcher, Ginny."

The girl stopped short and stared in obvious surprise. "Tonks! Are you all right?"

No, Tonks thought bitterly. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Oh, it's just…I mean, you're so thin and pale…have you been sick?"

Tonks glanced down at herself. Her hands were white and bony, almost like claws; her robes hung off her nearly emaciated frame like sacks. "I was ill," she lied. "Got the flu from standing out in the cold too long."

Ginny frowned. "But in the summer…" Then her face changed. "Oh," she said softly, suddenly embarrassed, "that."

Tonks stiffened. Did they all know? "What exactly is 'that?'"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I heard you were upset about Sirius…"

Tonks relaxed, closing her eyes briefly. So that's what they passed it off as. "Right, yeah. Well…yeah."

Ginny nodded knowingly. "It's all right, I know you probably don't want to talk about it. Look, I was just wondering, are you coming to the Burrow for the holidays? It'll be great, Fred and George are coming, and so's Bill, and even Professor Lupin is taking time off from wherever he is to come visit."

Tonks bit her lip. She could go and try to change his mind again. But…

"No, sorry, Ginny. Think I have family plans," she lied.

Ginny's face fell; she was obviously disappointed. "Really? Oh, well, our loss, I suppose. But Mum Owled me recently and told me to tell you to stop in as soon as you can. She wanted to talk to you about something."

Tonks winced — she had a good idea what it was that Mrs. Weasley 'wanted to talk about.' "Right. Thanks for telling me, Ginny, and in case I don't see you, happy early holidays."

Ginny flashed her a grin and started off down a corridor. "You too, Tonks. And feel better!"

Right, Tonks thought as Ginny disappeared. Fat chance of that happening.

She figured that now was as good a time as any to visit the Burrow, so she set off toward the castle doors. She'd Apparate once outside the boundaries.

Tonks was almost there when she heard footsteps coming up the hallway ahead. She shrank back into the shadows near a suit of armor, unwilling to undergo another interview with concerned teachers.

The person rounded the corner, and Tonks, panicking, ducked into a nearby classroom. Panting in the darkness, she crept over to the door and peeked out, spying on the newcomer.

Remus strode up the hall, unaware of her scrutiny. As he walked into better light, Tonks couldn't help but gasp. Perhaps Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley were off their rockers; or perhaps not. Something was weighing on him, that much was obvious. His messy, uncombed hair was now half gray and half brown, and he was only thirty-six; his face was lined and hollow eyed; his robes were a mess of tatters and patches. Tonks wanted so desperately to put his hair in order, smooth the cares from his face…

Unable to watch him, she turned her face away and looked down, her lashes brushing against her cheeks. He wasn't for her. He wasn't for anyone, except maybe himself. And because of that, she was only for herself as well. The problem was, she didn't want herself.

Tonks managed to slip by Filch unnoticed and meandered across the green wistfully, thinking about Remus and trying to stop. She was so absorbed in staring at her feet that she walked directly into something large and shaggy.

"Oh, hi, Hagrid," she said immediately.

"Who — Tonks? Blimey, what're yeh doin' here?"

Tonks craned her neck to see the giant man's bearded face. "Talking to Dumbledore. He said I'm off-duty until the new year."

Hagrid's face mirrored his surprise. "Really? Odd. Well, 's lucky fer yeh, eh?"

Tonks shrugged wryly. "Depends on how you look at it," she muttered.

A hand the size of a platter clapped her shoulder, and she thought her spine might fracture from the stress. "Tonks, yeh all righ'?" Hagrid asked seriously. "On'y every time I see yeh, yeh look 's if yeh're 'bout to burst inter tears right on the spot. Is it…" He lowered his voice to a husky murmur. "Well, I know yeh were right upset 'bout him dyin', but yeh know, Tonks, there's a time when yeh've got ter move on…"

Tonks shook her head, averting her eyes. "Oh, well, it's partly Sirius," she said lamely. "Then there's…you know, stuff…I guess the war is getting me down, and I had a touch of a bug before…"

"Oh, that's it? Well then, yeh rest up good over the hols, yeh hear? Can' have yeh gaddin' about sick, eh?"

Tonks felt her eyes tear up at the simple kindness of him. It was one thing to be coddled by Mrs. Weasley and spoken to by Dumbledore, but to have Hagrid look after her when he didn't know the truth…

"Thanks, Hagrid," she managed to whisper. "I'll try. Have a great Christmas, okay, Hagrid?"

"Ah, don' go all weepy on me," he joked. "Here, have this fer the road." He handed her a handkerchief roughly the size of a sheet. "Christmas sometimes does that ter yeh. Enjoy yerself, Tonks." Hagrid disappeared back into his cabin with a wave of his hand.

Tonks stared at the handkerchief, then gave up and scrubbed her face, relenting and having a good cry, right there in the middle of the deserted green.

When she was done, she sniffed and continued down to the gates. It took some effort, but she pushed them open and stepped through. Then, with a step and a turn, she was Apparating to the yard of the Burrow.

Her landing was slightly rocky, and she wasn't quite where she wanted to be in. This was yet another ability she was starting to lose, Tonks realized with disgust.

In no mood to talk about her personal life, Tonks stormed up to the door and rapped sharply at it.

"Who's there?"

"It's me."

There must have been something inimitably dead in her voice, because Mrs. Weasley opened it without asking her questions. "Oh, come in, Nymphadora," she said. Tonks stalked in and flung herself at the table.

Mrs. Weasley watched her, pursing her lips. "Oh, dear. What happened?"

"I'm not Apparating right," Tonks growled. "I nearly fell on my arse and I didn't end up in front of the door, I was at the edge of the yard."

"Nymphadora, you're just distracted," Mrs. Weasley soothed her. "Did anything happen right before you Apparated?"

"Well, I did have a bit of a crying jag…" Tonks admitted reluctantly.

Mrs. Weasley beamed, as if a crying jag was something to be happy about. "See? You were just upset. I'm sure it's not permanent."

"But Molly, I'm permanently upset, in case you haven't noticed," Tonks retorted. "So for all we know, this could be the beginning of the end."

"Tut, darling, you make it sound like the apocalypse," Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Your abilities, except perhaps your Morphing, are absolutely fine. Don't worry."

"Right, right, no worries," Tonks grumbled. "Ginny said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes, I did. Would you like to stay at the Burrow for the holidays?" Mrs. Weasley smiled widely, as she was bestowing upon Tonks a lovely gift.

Tonks turned it down. "No thanks, Molly. I'm, er…well, it's just all right. I wouldn't want to impose on you."

Mrs. Weasley was scandalized. "Nymphadora, I'm inviting you! Of course you wouldn't be imposing! I could think of certain other young women…" Mrs. Weasley trailed off to an angry mutter. "But, well, we won't speak of it. After all, Bill's happy and…anyway, Nymphadora, you simply must come, unless — are you going to your parents' house?"

Tonks shrugged noncommittally. "I might," she said uncomfortably. "It's not really on the agenda, but they said they'd like me to come, so I might end up over there."

Mrs. Weasley's expression took on a pitying cast. "Dear, this isn't about…?" She let the unasked question hang delicately in the air.

Tonks scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably. "No."

Mrs. Weasley took a step toward her. "Nymphadora — "

Tonks didn't want to deal with this again. She jumped up. "Oh, look at the time! Molly, I'll try to come if I can, but don't expect me."

"Tonks — "

But Tonks was already out the door. She didn't even notice the fact that Mrs. Weasley had just called her by her surname. She didn't notice the fact that she stepped right in a mud puddle. For once, she could even ignore the dull ache in her chest. The only thing she was concentrating on right now was —

Step –

Turn –

Home.


~*~


"Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-laaa!"

It was Christmas, three days after Tonks so unceremoniously ran away from Mrs. Weasley, the Burrow, and the Christmas That Could Have Been. It was not Christmas morning anymore, it was by now Christmas afternoon. Tonks had just woken up and was now sitting on her ratty old couch in her equally worn pajamas, staring disconsolately at her small pile of gifts and trying to ignore the too-cheerful Christmas carols blaring from her radio. She also tried to ignore visions of the Burrow, which danced enticingly in front of her eyes.

They're probably eating Christmas lunch by now, wearing their Weasley sweaters, tolerating Fleur and talking over her…Remus would be there…I wonder if the kids have realized what's been eating at us…I wouldn't be surprised if Hermione knew, she's just that sharp, although she doesn't go to the Burrow for Christmas…Ginny's a romantic, too…

Tonks growled out loud to distract her from thoughts of the Burrow. "It was my choice. My choice," she coached herself. "Mrs. Weasley can make my excuses. Although I wonder what she's told Remus…I wonder if he's guessed why I wouldn't come…of course he has, he's not stupid…"

Talking to herself out loud, Tonks reflected, was nearly as stupid as thinking about the Burrow. To derail these activities, Tonks started to open her Christmas gifts.

There were six packages, which was far more than she'd expected. Two were from Mrs. Weasley; one from Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was her closest Order friend beside Remus; one from Hestia Jones; one from Moody, which surprised her; and the last small package from Remus.

Tonks was tempted to chuck the last one across the room in a fit of anger, but refrained from doing so, partly because she didn't have the strength or energy, and partly because she was curious. She settled on placing it on her table rather roughly and picking up the Weasley packages.

The first one, as she guessed, contained a care package full of mince pies, cookies, and other delectable goodies from Mrs. Weasley's expansive stores. The second one, she figured as she tore the wrapping off, would be a famed Weasley sweater.

It was, but the sweater somehow made her feel worse than she ever had, and great fat tears welled up and over. The sweater was black, overlarge and with a roll neck, the type that Tonks especially loved. Worked onto the front was a crescent moon with a star dangling from the tip — all in bright pink.

Tonks wiped her nose and pulled the sweater on. It was huge on her, but she didn't mind. She sniffed again and pulled the other packages toward her.

Kingsley gifted her with a large box of Honeyduke's chocolates ("because every depressed girl I've ever met only wants chocolates," his note said); Hestia gave her a potion-making kit ("to replace the stores I took from you when you made me that potion"); and Moody's gift was an apparatus rather like wand armor that could be strapped to one's arm and therefore ensure a safe hiding place for the wand ("maybe you'll stop keeping your wand in your back pocket with this").

Tonks saved Remus's gift for last. There was a small, plain white note attached to the outside of the tiny cube. She detached it and read it.


Dear Tonks,

I'm sorry.

Love, Remus

P.S. Don't ever let anybody change who you are.


Her lips quivered uncontrollably. One tear rolled down her cheek and splashed directly on his name. Brushing it away with one hand, she picked up the box with the other and unwrapped it.

For a moment, her heart stopped. The box she was holding was small, with rounded edges and made of dark blue velvet — and the perfect size to hold a ring.

Tonks shook her head disgustedly. Right, Remus wasn't even sending her letters. Of course he was going to propose. Right.

She steeled herself and flipped open the lid.

It was a ring, but it was a far cry from an engagement ring. It was a mood ring, a real mood ring, far more detailed and accurate than the average Muggle trinket. She'd seen them in a store window and exclaimed over them long ago when on duty with Remus. Odd that he remembered; even odder when she realized it was the one she'd been particularly taken with: silver with a Celtic knot, the colors shimmering throughout the weaving design.

Tonks picked it up with a shaking hand and tried it on each finger of her left hand. She settled on her thumb, her thickest finger; even there it jiggled a bit, throwing her starved condition back in her face.

A pang of guilt stabbed at her. These weren't terrible expensive, but nor were they cheap. Remus had either spent all his own money on her, or had borrowed from Kingsley.

The couch, old but comfortable, was calling her name. Tonks reclined on it, stroking the ring, which had turned black for depression or death. It triggered memories for her, recollections she did not want to revisit but found herself falling into…


~*~


"Tonks, welcome to the Order headquarters," Moody proclaimed, sweeping his arm out grandly to encompass Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Tonks raised her eyebrows, staring around the decrepit mansion. "This is where we save the world?"

"No. That is where we save the world," Moody replied, jerking his thumb outside. "This is just where we plan it."

"Right," Tonks agreed absently, scanning the room. "Where is he?" This was her chance to meet Sirius Black, the innocent but convicted murderer and, coincidentally, her second cousin.

"Haven't the foggiest. Oh, look, here's Remus. Remus, have you seen Sirius?"

Tonks glanced over her shoulder at the newcomer and did a double-take. He was not extraordinarily handsome, yet there was something attractive about his grave, calm face. And Tonks was intrigued by the aura of sadness that hung over him.

"Haven't seen him all day, I think he's hiding with Buckbeak. We've been here for a week and he's still not used to it," Remus answered, watching her with mild interest. He had a very soft, soothing voice.

Moody noticed his expression. "Oh, right. Tonks, this is Remus Lupin. He's the werewolf, but I doubt you'll hold it against him."

Remus raised his eyebrows reprovingly. "Thanks, Alastor."

Moody shrugged. "She has to know, and Tonks is a good kid. Remus, this is Nymphadora Tonks."

She winced. "Please, just Tonks. And I don't care about the werewolf thing. Moody ought to have better manners anyway." She glowered at the old man slightly.

"If I didn't tell you, Remus never would, and you can't have secrets between friends, or people who have to work together," Moody explained seriously. "Even if he doesn't think so, it's better this way, right off the bat."

Remus sighed at Moody and shook Tonks's hand. "Lovely to meet you, Tonks," he said sincerely.

Tonks couldn't help but grin. "Likewise."

Remus smiled back. "I'll go find Sirius for you."

As he strode off down the hall, Tonks felt a funny flutter in her stomach…


~*~


Tonks yawned. "God, I need some coffee."

It was her first guard duty. Here she was, hanging around outside the phone booth to the Ministry of Magic at midnight with Remus. Dumbledore didn't expect anything much to happen, but he wanted them there anyway. Tonks was too excited to sleep during the day, but now she was regretting this decision.

Remus was nowhere to be seen, so Tonks sat on a bench, swinging her legs idly. There was no need to act casual; the lot was practically deserted.

"Tonks, where are you?"

Remus's call came from around the bend. Tonks jumped up, took a great running leap…and tripped over a bit of uneven street. She skidded to her knees and swore, loudly and fluently.

"…Tonks?" There was a definite note of amusement in Remus's voice. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she said, wincing as she sat back. The knees of her jeans were shredded, a look that she didn't mind. She wasn't so fond of the copious amounts of blood, however.

"Tonks?" Remus came around the bend, had one look at her, and was instantly kneeling by her side, fishing in his robes for something. He produced a vial of a viscous-looking yellow goo and popped the cork off. "Here, this'll help." Instead of handing it to her, however, he poured some into his own hand and began smoothing it over her knees.

Tonks turned bright red. "That isn't — ow!" she yelped. It stung sharply.

Remus glanced up, a lopsided smile on his face. "Left to your own devices, you'd stop putting it on."

"Damn right I would!" she agreed, weakly trying to pull away. He followed, smearing the last of it on her left knee.

"That should do it. But here, have this too." Remus handed her a chocolate bar.

With anyone else, she would have felt condescended to, but she knew it was a friendly gesture between equals with him. Their hands met as he helped her up; a funny little something zipped up her arm. "Why?" she asked. "Chocolate is for dementor side-effects, I thought."

"Well, yes, but it tastes good." Remus smiled warmly and walked off, trailing the scent of maple leaves and chocolate…


~*~


The night was dark, save for the brilliant light of the full moon. Grimmauld Place was somber and quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were asleep, as were Kingsley and Sirius; Remus was heading toward his abandoned room for his transformation; and Tonks, who should have been asleep, was padding down the halls after him, wearing nothing but a ribbed white tank top and overlarge blue plaid flannel bottoms. She was curious, so curious, and she needed to see…she needed to make sure she wouldn't be afraid…

She paused at the end of hallway, flattening herself against the wall. From her dubious shelter, she heard Remus open the door; close it; bolt it twice; mutter the protective incantations. Then there was silence.

Tonks crept up and peered through the knothole she'd discovered in it earlier. Sneaky, but that's the way things were done.

He stood in the middle of the room, stripping off his robes. A blush heated her cheeks, but Tonks kept watching, needing to know…

Remus had just removed his shirt when it hit. He stiffened, then began convulsing violently, falling to his knees and curling up into a ball. Tonks saw that he was biting his hand to keep from screaming — blood poured down his arm and dripped sickeningly down onto the floor.

In moments, the wolf-shape had fought its way to dominance. Remus stood on four legs, growling, gnashing his teeth, searching for something to eat. He couldn't pick up her scent through the smell of his own blood that still pooled on the floor. With nothing else to do, he lifted his foreleg and bit at it viciously, gnawing as if it were a bone. He snarled in pain but continued, slashing his underbelly with the other paw at the same time. Wide gashes opened, cuts that bled profusely.

Tonks backed away, her eyes filled with tears. So this was how it went: Remus, so gentle and mild, was forced to give up his nature and savage himself once a month. It shouldn't have to go this way…it wasn't supposed to go this way…


~*~


"It's not supposed to go this way…" she whispered to the empty room.


~*~
Sometimes you wonder
If this fight is worthwhile…

Disclaimer: I'm not even creative enough to make another disclaimer, how could I invent Harry Potter? See previous chapter for general disclaimer; song quote courtesy of "Sally's Song" from the Nightmare Before Christmas.


A/N: Before everyone jumps on me with "ZOMG DUMBLEDORE IS TERRIBLY OOC!!", yes, I know. ^_^ I'm not good at Dumbledore. Without further ado…







RUMORS







Three and a half months later, on the morning of Sunday, April 7th, Tonks sat at the counter of the Three Broomsticks, picking morosely at a bowl of cereal and absently scanning the contents of The Daily Prophet. It was more of the same old, same old: death, destruction, everything falling apart into chaos. A bit like her life, if it came to that.

Madam Rosmerta paused in her rounds of breakfast to smile at Tonks brightly, concern flickering in her eyes. "Cheer up, sweetie. You always look like the world's about to end. Knut for your thoughts?"

Tonks sighed. "It would take more than a Knut to encompass those," she said wryly.

"Is it a man that's got on your case?" Rosmerta asked naively, sympathetically.

Tonks clenched her fists. Was she that obvious? "Partly, Ros. Then there's just…well, the stuff."

"Right, the stuff," Rosmerta agreed knowingly. "Right shame, what's been happening in the world lately, but we'll muddle through." She sashayed off to serve the men a couple stools down from Tonks.

Tonks took a final look at the newspaper, then threw it down, completely disgusted.

Dawlish, never a morning person, glared at her blearily. "What's your problem?"

"Nothing," she spat. Not only was her life horrible in every other respect, but she had to work with a man she absolutely couldn't stand. Briefly, Tonks contemplated whether it would be worse working with him or with Snape. No one was worse than Snape, she decided.

"I could ask you the same thing," she continued. "Don't look so cheerful, please, you're overwhelming me."

He let out a shout of laughter. "Hypocrite."

Tonks blushed furiously. She'd walked straight into that one. Shaking her head, she made a point of turning away from him and listlessly stirring her coffee.

The men on the stools were carrying on a heated conversation about affairs in the wizarding world. Tonks had been taught that it was never good to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help it. Either that or argue with Dawlish.

"I'm telling you, if the Ministry doesn't put a stop to at least this, then we're doomed!" one man said angrily. "Our children won't be safe!"

Tonks frowned slightly at her mug. No one was safe in these times. Why would he specifically say children…?

"I agree with you, but the Ministry can't catch him any more than we can. No one can catch him. He's slippery, has an underground system, minions all over the place," the other man argued.

Tonks sat up straighter. They weren't talking about You-Know-Who, she could tell. A new menace?

An old one, as it turned out.

"But Greyback does the dirty work himself…"

Tonks frowned. Greyback…Fenrir Greyback…where had she heard that name before?

It came to her with a jolt. Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had bitten Remus. She'd done a bit more research on him and found out that the sick man targeted children as his victims, hoping to defeat wizards someday. He was vicious, a savage, and capable of murder. She'd nearly forgotten about him. And he was on the move again.

Disregarding her dislike of him, Tonks grabbed Dawlish by the sleeve desperately. "What time is it?"

He stared at her, shocked. "Eleven o' clock."

"Do you know if Dumbledore is up at the castle?"

"Maybe. But we're not supposed to leave — "

Tonks was already sprinting up the lane to Hogwarts, running for all she was worth. Unfortunately, Tonks had never been very good at sports, so she staggered to a walk even before she reached the gates, her face red and her heart pumping wildly. She wheezed in a decidedly undignified manner and walked the rest of the way. This would impress no one.

Filch let her in, glowering suspiciously but unable to think of a legitimate reason to keep her out. Tonks quickly made her way to Dumbledore's office, barely pausing for civility when Flitwick and McGonagall greeted her.

The gargoyle guarding his office leered at her unpleasantly. "Peppermint Toads," she said to it.

It didn't move.

She stared helplessly. "Oh, come on, you old piece of rubbish, I know that's the password!"

The gargoyle sat stoically.

"Come on," she growled. "I look like an idiot."

"I must say I agree."

The silky voice both startled her and infuriated her. "Oh, not you," she grumbled.

"Ever so sorry to intrude on your stupidity," Snape apologized, smiling disagreeably.

"Shouldn't you be teaching class or something?" Tonks said desperately.

His smile widened. "Have you failed to notice that it is Sunday, and therefore there are no classes? As I said, stupidity."

"Oh, shut up," she snarled. "Is Dumbledore here?"

His expression darkened. "No, he is not. He has gone away on business."

"Fine, I'm leaving." She made to leave.

Snape raised his eyebrows at her, blocking her way down the corridor. "Now, wait one moment. What are you doing away from your post?"

"Trying to see Dumbledore; I'd thought that much would be obvious. Speaking of stupidity."

His black eyes narrowed. "What would be of such import that you deemed it necessary to leave your station?"

She was turning red, she knew it. "I…well, I just thought he should know that, er, there's a problem," she mumbled to the flagstones.

"What sort of problem?" he inquired lazily.

She scowled at him furiously. "I don't need to answer your questions, you know, I didn't set out to be interrogated!"

The same mocking smile stretched over his face. "Judging from your reaction, I'd say it must have something to do with Remus Lupin," he remarked. "Tell me, are you still slavering over a silly dream, or have you seen that he's worthless yet?"

I have options, Tonks thought wildly as tears welled up in her eyes. I could slap him across the face, which I'd really like to do. I could cry and run away. Or I could yell at him.

Snape was watching her closely for a reaction. Tonks lifted her head and stared straight into his eyes. "Talk about worthless. At least he hasn't held a childhood grudge for decades, a grudge that's now against bloody dead people." The tears were threatening to defeat her; her voice shook. "Just because you're worthless doesn't mean everyone else is."

She turned and fled.

Right, left, left — Tonks knew exactly where she was going. It could not be called a shortcut, because it was longer, but at least she'd get away from Snape.

Eventually, she calmed down enough to slow to a halt. Her legs were about to give out. She rested for a moment, her hands on her knees, gasping and gulping her breath.

The tears had disappeared in her effort to remember where she was going. Tonks ambled along the corridors slowly, taking the opportunity to gaze around the halls she had walked years ago. Hogwarts was still fresh in her memory, so it was no trouble figuring out where she was.

If I'm not mistaken, I'll be near the Room of Requirement if I turn left here…

She did so, and to her surprise, Harry – at least the parts of him that were visible; Tonks supposed he had on his father's Invisibility Cloak – was standing directly across from the extraordinary room, hopping on one foot and looking extremely aggravated.

"Harry?" she prodded when he didn't see her.

Harry spun and promptly fell over, startled by her abrupt arrival. Blushing, he quickly regained his feet as she approached. "What're you doing here?"

"I came to see Dumbledore," she answered honestly. His eyes flickered over her; he was clearly taking in her starved form and limp hair.

"His office isn't here, it's round the other side of the castle, behind the gargoyle — "

Tonks appreciated how he tried to help without asking questions, but she didn't particularly need to hear this. "I know. He's not there. Apparently he's gone away again," she added bitterly, remembering the confrontation with Snape.

"Has he? Hey — you don't know where he goes, I suppose?" he asked eagerly.

Don't we all want to know, Tonks thought distantly. It was a lie. Frankly, she couldn't work up the enthusiasm to be curious over anything anymore. "No," she replied, fully set to continue on her way.

"What did you want to see him about?" Harry inquired curiously.

Oh, damn curiosity, she thought desperately. Why did he have to ask that?

"Nothing in particular," she said slowly, fidgeting with the sleeve of her robes. "I just thought he might know what's going on…I've heard rumors…people getting hurt…"

Only by saying it did she understand herself. She didn't want to inform Dumbledore of this new terror. She wanted to know if it was true…she didn't want believe it…she didn't want to think that Remus's tormentor was awake after all these years of relative peace. It panicked her, particularly because it concerned Remus, indirectly or not.

Harry was saying or had just finished saying something – Tonks could vaguely recall the word "papers." For the life of her, she couldn't focus on what he was saying.

"The Prophet's often behind the times," she hazarded. From the expression on her face, this wasn't what she was supposed to say.

Hang that. A thought occurred to her. If Remus was writing to anybody, it would be to Harry. Here was her chance to get news…

"You haven't had any letters from anyone in the Order recently?"

"No one from the Order writes me anymore," Harry said frankly, "not since Sirius — "

She barely heard the last three words. So Remus couldn't even find the time to write to Harry, the son of one friend and the godson of the other? She was simultaneously angry at him, worried for him, and glad that it wasn't just her he was neglecting. Against her will, tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Once more, Harry was saying something that just slipped right by her. It sounded comforting or commiserating, but she didn't know which, or what he was even talking about.

"What?" she said blankly, trying to get a grip. It failed. The best thing she could do now was leave, even though that meant going in the direction from which she had come. "Well…I'll see you around, Harry…"

She walked away from him quickly, leaving him indubitably confused and possibly hurt. She couldn't care, however. That was something she just could not bring herself to do. Not when tears were pouring down her face like rain…

She couldn't go on like this — but she would. Tonks knew herself well enough to accept that she was helpless against grief like this. And love. She was utterly defenseless when it came to matters of the heart.

Tonks sneaked past Filch, who was talking to Madam Pince, and trudged back down to Hogsmeade to continue work duty. More than anything, she just wanted to go home, though "home" was currently a room above the Three Broomsticks.

A very irate Dawlish met her. "What was that about?" he roared.

Tonks shook her head, too tired to defend herself. "I wanted to talk to Dumbledore…" she mumbled.

"So don't we all, but we're not! Get back to work."

Sighing, holding back tears, Tonks complied.


~*~


Albus Dumbledore sat in his office and thought about the Order.

They were a lovely task force and, perhaps, the most loyal supporters he could hope for, at least if he counted Harry and his "army" as part of the Order, which he unofficially did. Yet, to his mild consternation, there were schisms here and there.

Normally, he did not try to become embroiled in their affairs. They regarded him as their leader and he was perfectly fine with that. They also knew he couldn't attend to them while he was running the school and completing his own secret missions. Sometimes, however, he couldn't help but notice what was directly in front of his face.

For example, Sirius and Severus. They had been incorrigible enemies, and he knew that quite well. Albus had been somewhat concerned that Molly and Sirius also seemed to have had their tense moments, and without a doubt Molly and Mundungus did not get along. Of course, Severus rubbed everybody the wrong way, and Alastor's gruff attitude sometimes annoyed young Nymphadora. On the whole, though, he considered her, Remus, Kingsley, and Arthur to be the steadiest members of the Order.

Until now. For, to his surprise, Remus and Nymphadora were no longer on comfortable speaking terms. Albus would freely admit to anyone who asked that he'd had high hopes for them as a team of two, but never more than a team. It would have pleased him if indeed further romantic bonds had developed between them, especially because Remus lived such a loveless life, but it seemed the man's stubbornness was winning out. Albus was disappointed. They would have been good for each other, her humor tempering his gravity and vice versa, but it was not to be.

Albus sighed. Rumor had it that she had come running to find him a few days previous, and he had a notion of what that had been about. And if he guessed correctly, she would be coming back to see him against her will very soon.

Knock. Knock.

Albus smiled. "Come in, Nymphadora."

She peeked her mousy brown head in, abashed. "How did you know it was me?"

"Oh, just a faint inkling. My dear, when I invited you in, I did not invite just your head." He beckoned. "I sense you have something you wish to talk about."

Nymphadora sighed and edged all the way in, shutting the door behind her. Without asking, she plopped into the chair before his desk. Her face was weary and spent, alarmingly like Remus's countenance. "You're right, Professor. I dunno if you've heard, but I tried to visit — "

"When I was away, yes," Dumbledore interrupted mildly. "Severus told me."

Nymphadora winced. "Did he tell you what happened after?"

"Apparently he did not see fit," Dumbledore answered. "However, if you'd like to recount the tale, by all means do so."

She was silent, as he'd expected she would be.

"Ah," he said softly, "I see. But we are not here to talk about Severus. What is troubling you, Nymphadora?"

"Well – Professor – down in the village, they were – they were saying things," Nymphadora blurted out in a rush.

Albus spoke when she failed to continue. "I'm sure they say many things down in the village, most of them untrue. Rumors spread like wildfire, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, but – but this had a grain of truth in it. And it…it scares me, first of all, nearly as much as You-Know-Who does, and it also…well, it, er, it means more to me than it would to many others…" She trailed off.

"And what is this rumor?"

She squirmed uncomfortably. "It's about…Greyback."

"Ah."

His tone was bland and unquestioning. She elaborated, just as he thought she would.

"Is it true? That he's out hunting again?" Her tone held loathing and disgust, and also a hint of wistful fear.

"I would be lying to you if I said he wasn't." Roundabout answers were Albus's specialty.

Her lower lip quivered. "He is?"

Albus leaned forward. "My dear Nymphadora, though I am well aware of a certain bothersome social situation, I cannot understand why this disturbs you so much. We're all in danger from a follower of Voldemort — " He ignored her flinch. " — but we are in less danger of being bitten than children. The idea of a child being savaged by him is scarcely imaginable, but I am surprised that it would move you to tears."

"Seems like anything moves me to tears lately," she muttered, blinking furiously.

"It is rather distressing to me, Nymphadora, to see such a strong woman such as yourself be so devastated by love," he said softly. "Love is supposed to be a binding force, one that unites us."

"Frustrated love, Professor Dumbledore," she mumbled. "It's a dividing force, one that breaks us."

"And a condition that both of you are suffering."

Nymphadora sighed sharply. "I don't care what anyone says, Professor, I don't think he loves me, and even if he does, this is all his fault, so he can suffer!" she said in one breath.

Albus regarded her sadly. "Oh, Nymphadora. Don't you realize what it's costing him to deny you so many times?"

She slapped her leg, frustrated and impatient. "Then why doesn't he just give in?"

He smiled slightly. "I'm sure that he, Molly, and even you yourself have told you the answer several times over."

Nymphadora slumped, running a hand through her hair. "I know, I know." She hesitated, then plunged on. "How is he, Professor? I haven't seen him in months."

"I believe he is in as decent health as can be expected, considering that he too is heartbroken, and is also suffering the burden of the mission I gave him." Albus sighed regretfully. "I understand how difficult it is for him, but it is a necessary evil."

"But…he's not sending letters…" Nymphadora said slowly. "Does he send letters to you?"

"Monthly, only because he needs to inform me of his progress. They are not leisure letters."

She blushed. "I know," she said softly. "I know we don't have time. I just…oh, I don't know what. I suppose I'd better go. Thanks very much for confirming it, Professor."

"You are quite welcome. And please let Severus in on your way out." He smiled inwardly.

The young woman furrowed her brow and walked over to the door. She opened it. Even from the back, Albus could tell she was glaring violently at the tall, sallow man in front of her.

"Ah, good evening, Severus," he said mildly. "Nymphadora, please close the door on your way out."


~*~


Tonks frowned as she shut the door with a not-so-gentle snick. What sort of business did Snape and Dumbledore have together?

Dumbledore had not seen the expression that decorated Snape's face when she'd opened the door. It had fallen away quickly as he'd replaced it with smooth dislike, but Tonks caught of brief glimpse of something unsettling — loathing, resentment, and above all, hatred.

Tonks was lost in her musings as she made her way back to the village. What was that cast on Snape's face? Why would he look like that, especially to go see Dumbledore?

What was Snape planning?

~*~
I sense there's something in the wind
That feels like tragedy's at hand…

Disclaimer: See previous chapters about how I don't own Harry Potter and stuff. This section came in part out of the hospital wing scene at the end of HBP. (Is that how I should cite it?) Song, courtesy of Coldplay's "Fix You."






THE MOMENT TO DISCUSS IT






Dumbledore is dead.

The words resounded in Tonks's head as they all watched Harry leave the room with McGonagall. A long silence held.

It was broken by Bill, who shifted and murmured uneasily. Fleur let out a pretty little gasp and returned to her administrations over him, cooing and smoothing his face tenderly. Tonks almost couldn't bear to watch. If only she could do this to a certain other man ravaged by Greyback…

Ron was watching his parents and Fleur tend to Bill, worry etched into his features. "Professor Lupin?"

"Mmm?" Remus responded absently, his eyes trained on the scene as well. There were still tearstains on his thin face; Tonks's fingers itched, reaching automatically for her handkerchief.

"D'you – d'you think they're going to close the school? Now that…that…" Ron, it seemed, was unable to continue.

Remus sighed heavily. "I don't know, Ron. They might. It's likely. Or parents might see that, even without him, Hogwarts is still just as safe – or just as unsafe – as anyone's home."

No one even needed to ask who 'him' was. And no one wanted to say it out loud. It was too fresh, too raw, too unbelievable. Freely admitting to it was a shame to his memory.

Hermione sniffed, her eyes bright. "I – I think I'm going to go up to the girls' dormitory," she announced in a high-pitched voice. "I think I'd like to…to…"

She couldn't finish, and instead fled from the room.

Ginny, surprisingly calm and steady, spoke with only a bit of a tremor. "I'd better go see if she's okay. She doesn't get like this often, but…well, it's best that someone looks after her." She slipped out.

Ron's face was still troubled. "Guess I'd better go too, so I can be there when Harry comes back." Trailed by Luna Lovegood, he left.

This meant that, besides the Weasley parents and Fleur, Tonks and Remus were the only two visitors in the hospital wing. They had nothing left to do. Except…

In retrospect, Tonks was a little ashamed of being self-centered when Dumbledore had just died. It was so like her, to yell at Remus for not loving her when their greatest hero was dead and Bill was maimed for life. Somehow, though, the moment had called for it, and apparently no one terribly resented her for it, not even McGonagall. Remus might dislike it, he didn't like personal matters discussed in front of so many people, but he deserved it after what he'd put her through this year.

Then again, he'd said 'This is not the moment to discuss it.' Meaning that eventually, they would discuss it again. And what better time than now?

"Molly," she said in a low voice, "can we borrow the Burrow?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded knowingly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Certainly, Tonks. Actually, I'd be much obliged if you'd feed the hens while you're there."

Tonks nodded, then glanced at Remus. "You coming?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. I'll come."

Well, that's a bright side, Tonks thought hopefully as they headed for the doors. At least he's actually coming…

The night air was cool on her face, tossing limp strands of her mousy hair this way and that. She drew in a breath sharply. It was so cold for a spring nearing summer. It was as if even the very air knew what they'd lost…

It did. As they walked, the sound of the anguished phoenix song rang through the stillness, piercing the night with its heartbroken beauty. Tonks stared up at the sky, and a reddish shadow skimmed across it. Fawkes.

And suddenly, it hit her, so hard that she actually gasped out loud. Dumbledore was dead, and would not come back. They were helpless, aimless, leaderless. Simply less. The Order would fall apart without his guidance. How would they go on?

And every single tear Tonks had managed to hold back over the past year, every single heartache, every single sob, it all came flooding out of her in a rush of pain that wouldn't end. She stopped in her tracks and balled her fists against her eyes, trying to stay the flow, but the fear and the sorrow were relentless.

Aware that Remus had paused too, she raised her head and tried to focus on him through teary eyes. And then, simultaneously, they flung themselves at each other and clung for dear life, weeping into one another's shoulders.

It was not the romantic thing to do. It was the right thing to do. Doubtful, even, that they were thinking about the strife and discomfort of the past year. Tonks certainly was not. She just needed a shoulder to cry on, and here was Remus, the most perfect shoulder she could possibly imagine.

For minutes they stood there, shaking under the pressure of their grief. It was so rare for Remus to ever show any type of emotion, and before that year, Tonks seldom cried. The tears were therefore coming harder and more violently than they would for anyone else.

Eventually, their stores of tears were sated. Tonks moved back first, and slowly they disengaged themselves, the weight of their actions suddenly hitting them full-force. Tonks felt a blush heat her neck and was surprised to see Remus turning red as well.

She laughed it off weakly. "I must look a sight," she murmured, sniffing a nose which was without a doubt pink.

"No worse than me," he replied, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his face.

Tonks patted her pockets and cursed. For once in her sad, sorry life, she didn't have a handkerchief.

Remus dug through his own pockets again and produced another one. "Here."

She shook her head furiously, still snuffling. "It's all right, Remus, really, I'll manage — "

"Tonks." He pressed the offending piece of cloth into her hand. "You need it more than I do. If you really feel that guilty, give me one of yours some time or another. For now, use that."

She gave up and scrubbed her face. "Okay. Thanks, Remus."

"And thank you," he said. "For…"

"Yeah," she finished, "I know."

They continued out of the grounds in silence, heading toward the Burrow, the place where they would finally decide it all.


~*~
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse...?
Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones
And I will try…to fix you…
~*~


The livestock pen was silent, as if it knew and comprehended the tragedy that had occurred.

Even now, Remus wasn't sure what had just taken place. Had Dumbledore really died? Had he and Tonks really just sobbed their hearts out into each other's shoulders? Had he really given Tonks his handkerchief? Had he really taken her hand as they walked, using it as an anchor, because if he didn't hold onto her he thought he might collapse?

And most importantly, was he ready for what was about to take place?

Remus had thought about it so many times, mulling it over in his head, weighing the pros and cons with an impartial mind. And still he did not know which course of action to choose.

The door to the Burrow was unlocked; obviously, the Weasleys and Fleur had been in too much of a dither to properly shut it behind them. Remus followed Tonks in silently, anticipating what was to come with dread and a dim sense of hope.

Hope…it didn't belong to a time like this. Not a night so devastating. Hope had no place here.

And yet…Dumbledore would have wanted it. Dumbledore wouldn't have minded this faith on the night of his death. He would have liked it, reveled in it, even.

This did nothing to help matters. If anything, it complicated Remus's thoughts further.

It occurred to him that he was still waiting for Tonks to speak. He watched her expectantly.

She didn't say anything. She only sank down at the kitchen table with a little sigh.

Without even thinking about it, Remus put some water on to boil and gathered the tea — earl grey, her favorite kind. His too, if it mattered.

It didn't take very long to make the tea. He brought it to the table in two steaming mugs. Mutely, he sat across from her and pushed one across the table toward her. She picked it up and sipped in silence.

The only noises were the sounds of their drinking and the occasional clunk as they set the mugs on the table. Remus didn't want to break this. It was a perfect moment in a terrifying evening.

But it had to be broken if they were going to solve anything. So, against his will, he ventured, "Should we talk?"

Tonks took a long sip before replying. "I dunno, Remus. Should we?"

He was confused. "I assumed that was what we came here to do."

She sighed. "Every time we talk about this certain matter, Remus, it seems that all we do is go around in circles. I'm not even sure why we should bother."

Something died inside him. She wasn't going to try again. He'd lost her, unless he spoke up, but principle and the nagging feeling of guilt wouldn't let him.

He stood. "All right. I'd better get going, then — "

"Remus, wait."

Remus turned.

Tonks was on her feet as well, reaching out. "Remus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I do want to talk about it." She swallowed. "I need to talk about it."

She didn't make a move to sit back down; neither did he. Nervously, she started wringing her hands. "Remus, you know what I'm going to say."

"I do," he replied calmly. "And once again, I'm going to have to point out the three counts against me: I'm old, I'm poor with no home, and I'm a werewolf."

But suddenly, those excuses sounded exactly like what they were: excuses, flimsy and weak. He was finding them less and less convincing the more he thought about it. What if it didn't really matter? The scene between Bill, Fleur, and Mrs. Weasley in the hospital wing showed him that health should not be an insurmountable barrier, that it shouldn't be the problem he made it out to be. He was losing his conviction.

And Tonks saw it.

"Remus, it would be different if I didn't know about your condition," she said; though Remus didn't know it, she was echoing her words from her conversation with Mrs. Weasley. "But I know, and I don't care. Just like Fleur. Did you see how she stuck by Bill? I don't know about you, but I was sure she would leave him. But Fleur proved me wrong. That was real character back there. She was determined to stay with the man she loves through all his troubles, because she loves him so much she wouldn't let them get in the way. And you can be sure that Bill's not going to call off the wedding just because his face is a little messed up and he could be part werewolf. They're in love, Remus, and love can overcome that. And you're going to deny me that?

"Remus, I hate hearing you call yourself old. You're not old. You're only, what, thirty-six, thirty-seven. That's not old. I'm twenty-four, Remus. That's only thirteen years. It…all right, some may think it's a huge difference, but for God's sake, apparently Harry thought I was in love with Sirius, who's the same age and my second cousin besides, so I don't think anyone we know would be terribly bothered by it.

"And poor? Why would I care about you being poor? I have an income." She grinned at him jauntily, confidence growing around her in some sort of pulsating aura.

By now, it was almost more of a matter of principle to refuse her. Remus shook his head. "Tonks, I…"

Tonks shook her head, cutting off his words. "Remus, this is it. This will be the last time I ask this. It's now or never. Do you love me?"

Remus hesitated, but knew he was going to answer. Somehow he felt that if he didn't give way now, the rest of his life would be a misery. "I do."

She paused in her tirade, surprised. "What?"

"I do, Tonks — I love you more than you can imagine. But — "

She shushed him. "If you love me, why don't you trust me to make my own decisions?"

Remus opened his mouth, then shut it rather miserably. She had him. Checkmate.

Tonks pursued her advantage. She stepped closer. "If you love me, this means you see me not as a child, but as a woman. And that means I'm capable of making choices for myself." She took another step; they were very close now, nearly touching. Tonks gazed up at him, searching his face earnestly. "I've chosen you, Remus."

Remus watched her sadly, wanting desperately both to draw her forward and push her away. To protect her. For her own good. "Tonks — "

"Remus, how can it be a burden if I accept it with open arms?" she whispered, her smile trembling.

Remus weighed his options: he could refuse her once more and lose her forever; or he could take a stab at happiness, embrace what had eluded him nearly all his life. The answer was so obvious. Yet, upon deeper reflection, Remus realized he was scared. He'd been so unhappy all his life, he couldn't bear the thought of snatching joy only to lose it. To lose her. But if didn't say yes now…

He'd have no chance ever again. He'd never have a chance to lose her.

He'd been a fool the whole time.

Remus smiled slightly, holding up his hands. "I surrender."

Tonks's eyes went round; her mouth dropped open. "What?"

Gently, he reached out and tapped her chin with his index finger, closing her mouth for her. "I concede. You've made me see reason. I might regret this, but if I don't say yes, I won't ever have the chance to regret it. And maybe, just maybe…even if it's for a limited time…I can indulge in a bit of content. Just this once." He smiled slightly. "Maybe it's time. I've realized you and your state of mind are more important to me than my own. Just like Bill and Fleur. That's what love really is, and I was foolish not to see it."

"Oh." For a moment, Tonks seemed more limp than ever. Then she straightened, studying his face for truth again, the old, excited light rekindling in her eyes. "D'you – d'you mean it? You really do love me?"

He grinned outright at her enthusiasm. "I really do. I have this whole time."

"Oh…oh, Remus!" she squeaked, flinging her arms around his neck.

Once again, Remus slipped his arms around her waist, only this time, he was a lot more certain.


~*~


Tonks snuggled her face into his neck and breathed deeply, inhaling his scent of chocolate and flannel and autumn. Suddenly the world was infinitely brighter, and softer around the edges — less cruel, more forgiving. Amazing how one word could change her outlook on life.

Tonks was amazed to find that she was crying, the tears dripping off her face to soak into his collar. Remus must have felt them, for he pulled back, frowning. "Tonks, why…?"

She sniffed, laughing, wiping her nose. "Oh, I dunno…I'm so happy, I suppose, and I'm thinking back on the past year…"

He sighed. "I could have saved us so much heartache."

"Oh, Remus, don't," she protested, even if she secretly agreed. "No, I understand you now. You just didn't want to hurt me." She smiled. "I'm quite all right with that."

He smiled back. "You know, you're right," he commented.

She raised one eyebrow. "About what?"

His smile grew mischievous, reminding her why he had been one of the 'Marauders.' "You do look a bit of a sight when you cry."

Tonks swatted him playfully. He made no move to back away. "You're not allowed to say that," she told him, eyes dancing for the first time in a year.

"Oh?"

Tonks had no response, merely placed her hands on his waist — he hadn't let go of her yet. She smiled up at him hopefully. If he'd just get the message…

Remus looked rather confused and a bit edgy.

Tonks sighed inwardly and pressed closer to him, a very blatant physical hint. Remus gulped visibly, the nervousness increasing on his face.

Apparently I'm going to have to do everything in this relationship, Tonks thought wryly, standing on tiptoes and kissing him.

For a moment, Remus was so shocked that he actually reacted, kissing her as well, their lips parting sweetly…

Then he jerked back, his face beet red. "Don't you think this is going a little fast?"

Tonks raised her eyebrows, disappointed. "Remus, we've known each other for two years and apparently loved each other the whole time, so no, I don't really think so." She paused, scrutinizing his features, and narrowed her eyes, trying not to laugh. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there." It wasn't a question.

Remus sighed ruefully. "The last time I kissed someone," he admitted slowly, "was in my sixth year, under mistletoe, because James practically shoved me into her. The only reason I was brave enough to do it was because Sirius spiked my butterbeer with firewhiskey."

Tonks laughed so hard she snorted. "You're not serious, are you?" she gasped, clutching a stitch in her side.

Remus watched her mirth reproachfully. "Sad but true."

She calmed down, a sly smile still dancing on her lips, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "So you're out of practice? Well, I suppose we'll just have to remedy that…"

They were quite busy for a few minutes after that as she reminded Remus how to kiss.

They remained close together even after, his arms firmly entwined around her waist and her around his neck, foreheads touching.

"Remus?" Tonks murmured.

"Mmm?"

"…I'm sorry for yelling at you in front of everyone," she said contritely. "I know you don't like personal matters exposed to the public."

He shook his head, his hair brushing her face. "It doesn't matter."

A little while later, he broke the silence. "Tonks?"

"Yeah?"

"What color is your ring?"

She held up her hand to see the mood ring and grinned. "Bright pink. With a yellow thread running through the design."

"Do you know what that means?"

Her grin widened. "Yeah. Love. Love hopeful, specifically. Because that's what we have now, hope. The yellow means happy. Happily in love, I guess."

"I'm glad."

"So what happens next?" she queried lazily.

Remus sighed. "We appear for the public. Fend off the Rita Skeeters of the world. Try to avoid trashy tabloids like Magic Mag — "

"Seriously," she said, grinning. "Wait, I know what happens next."

"What's that?"

"We go out and feed the chickens."

Remus kissed the tip of her nose briefly and led her out by the hand. "Molly would have our heads if we forgot."

By then, the chickens were clucking frantically for some food. Tonks and Remus worked in companionable silence, enjoying the peace of the night. It was hard to think that just hours before, Dumbledore…

Tonks shook her head, closing her eyes against the stab of pain. She couldn't dwell on that now, not when she was finally so happy.

Still, she reflected, it's nice to consider that he'd be overjoyed if he was still with us.

She bent over to pick up a bucket of water and caught sight of her reflection. It was still brown and boring and depressed.

Now, this won't do at all.

Closing her eyes, scrunching her nose, hoping against hope…

Tonks opened her eyes and let out a shout of victory. Reflected hazel eyes glimmered at her from beneath a cap of shocking pink hair.





A/N: Ahh, the moment we've all been waiting for. I hope you're all happy…so happy that you won't even criticize the corniness! I jest, I jest. I'd just like to take this opportunity to thank my reviewers, each and every one of you, for your continued support of a tired old story. Merci bien!

REMEMBERING ALBUS DUMBLEDORE




It's strange, Tonks thought distantly, how I can begin and end the worst year of my life recalling the memory of someone I love.

She was getting dressed for Dumbledore's funeral in Charlie's old bedroom, which had been temporarily given to her. She and Remus were staying with Fleur and assorted Weasleys at the Burrow until the funeral. Though no one commented, Remus was placed in Percy's room, which was directly next to hers.

Her black dress robes were still too large on her thinner frame, but at least they were black. Underneath it she wore her newest Weasley sweater, flying furiously in the face of the hot sun. Dumbledore would have liked it.

Tonks glanced at her ring and sighed. It was still a cheerful pink and yellow, which seemed incongruous to a funeral. She wished it would change.

Even as she thought this, the left side of the ring curdled. A new color permeated that side of the ring: dark blue, laced with black.

Mourning and depression, Tonks thought dully. Well, that does fit, at least.

Sounds of breakfast reached her ears. She pursed her lips. She should join them, she knew. Tonks disliked the thought of eating breakfast in quiet reverence, wearing black and dwelling on memories.

Someone knocked on her door. "Tonks?"

Tonks allowed herself a smile. "Coming, Remus." She flicked a piece of bubblegum-pink hair into place and opened the door.

Remus took one look at her face and cupped her cheek with one hand. "I know. I'm not hungry either."

She sighed, absently covering his hand with her own. "I hate funerals," she confessed miserably. "Hate them with an ungodly passion. No one likes funerals, but…God, they're just so depressing, and usually I can't cope with that."

He flipped his hand so that it was holding hers. "I'll be here for you," he said simply. "As long as I'm holding your hand, you're not alone. I'll hold it for as long as you need me to."

Tonks grinned ruefully. "I always need you to," she said awkwardly. She and Remus, as extremely shy and unromantic people, were feeling their way through this relationship very cautiously.

It appeared to be the right thing to say. Remus's face broke out into a delighted smile. It happened more and more frequently lately. "Come on, they'll be wondering."

"Yeah, well, Fred and George will be speculating about my virtue, at least," Tonks muttered darkly. The previous night, the twins come up to her and Remus and asked her when their wedding was going to be.

"Um," Tonks had answered softly, while Remus flushed a brilliant shade of Gryffindor scarlet.

Fred had pretended to be shocked. "Remus! Come now, man, you've got to make an honest Metamorphmagus out of her!"

George had winked. "Right, we know why you two want to be in bedrooms next to each other."

At which point Tonks had threatened to jinx them into subordination.

Remus sighed. "I'm sure they mean well."

Tonks snorted. "Don't fool yourself, Remus. Of course they don't."

Sure enough, when they entered the kitchen hand in hand, Fred glanced up and beamed. "Well, well, well. Look who's decided to join our humble gathering."

George winked just as he had the night before. "Long night?"

"George!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "I think that's quite enough." She smiled sadly at Tonks and Remus. "Breakfast, you two?"

Dumbledore used to really like breakfast, Tonks recalled suddenly. Eggs and bacon.

She smiled weakly. "No, thanks, Molly." Suddenly, she wasn't hungry.

Remus frowned at her slightly, worried, but said, "I'll have a bit, Molly. Many thanks."

Tonks tripped over her own feet pulling out her chair. Fleur clucked disapprovingly. "'Onestly, at least make effort to be graceful!"

"Quiet, sweetie, she's doing the best she can," Bill said amiably. He smiled at Tonks through twisted lips. "Tonks was born to be a klutz. At least you have a steadying hand now." He raised his glass of orange juice to Remus with difficulty. "Cheers."

Fred and George snorted into their bacon.

As time ticked on, however, everyone's moods became steadily more somber until Mrs. Weasley finally broke down and started sobbing. "And I was more worried about Bill's face!" she wailed while Mr. Weasley tried to console her.

Tonks and Remus exchanged helpless looks. She knew that he wanted this to end just as much as she did.

Bill, with the help of Fleur, stood. "Guess we'd better go," he said soberly.

Mrs. Weasley sniffled and wiped her eyes on a black-edged handkerchief. "Yes, we'd better."

The grave procession filed into the yard of the Burrow. Bill, weakened by the attack, would have to Side-Along Apparate with Fleur. They did so, followed shortly by the Weasley parents and twins.

Tonks looked up at Remus; his face was drawn tight with acute melancholy. She reached up and kissed his cheek. "Don't let go," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"I won't," he whispered, squeezing back.

They stepped, turned, and Apparated together.

When Tonks came to her senses, they were standing in front of the Hogwarts gates, which were open and draped with black ribbons for the occasion.

This isn't right, Tonks thought fiercely. Dumbledore liked color – happiness – love. He would've wanted my ring totally pink. Decorating the gates with mourning colors sends the message, "Stay away! Funeral ahead!" Who wants to go to that? We should all be wearing bright colors, smiling, and snogging.

The thought caused an inadvertent smile to play on her lips, though tears sparkled in her eyes. Quietly, Tonks willed her hair to be a little bit brighter.

They were early, she realized as they trudged across the green. A few people had collected around the chairs set out, but the students hadn't come. Those who were there mingled uneasily, dressed in black on this uncomfortably warm day and trying to forget why they'd come.

Tonks couldn't tear her eyes away from the marble slab in front of all the chairs. That was surely where…

She wondered how it would happen. It was a flat table. How would he be entombed?

A sparkling tear dripped down her face. Tonks brushed it away, vowing that this would be the last tear she'd cry for Albus Dumbledore.

She had the terrible feeling that she wouldn't be able to keep this promise.

Remus looked down at her quickly. "Are you all right, dear? Your hand is shaking."

Warmed by this term of affection, Tonks smiled. "I'm fine. Just getting antsy."

"As am I." His gaze swept over those assembled; an expression of disgust crossed his face. "Some of the people here don't deserve to be. They didn't care about him like we did."

Tonks followed his stare and met with the sight of Dolores Umbridge. Unconsciously, her hand tightened around his. "Filthy — " she started mutinously.

"Not here," Remus interrupted softly. "Not at a funeral."

Tonks subsided.

She was doomed to be baited, however. Moody limped up to them, an unreadable expression on his face. "Well, finally came to your senses, eh?" he said to Remus, who blushed.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Mad-Eye. Now really isn't the time."

"I'm just saying." He regarded them. "Dumbledore'd be proud, you know," he added gruffly, then moved off.

Tonks and Remus stared at each other, vaguely perplexed. "Well, at least we have approval, at any rate," Tonks commented at last.

"You thought we wouldn't?" Remus smiled wryly. "The entire Order was trying to get me to change my answer to you for the entire year."

Tonks smiled back. "You're a stubborn man, Remus Lupin."

To her surprise, he kissed her forehead. In public, too, Tonks thought smugly. "Let's find seats," he suggested.

They wended their way through guests, pausing occasionally to say hello to friends. In the end, they decided to sit about halfway back on the aisle.

Time seemed to drag on and on. Tonks remained in her seat, her hand firmly clasped in Remus's, twiddling her ring with her left index finger. Suddenly, even though only half was pink and yellow, it was still too bright. She turned it so that the Celtic knot faced in, hiding her perpetual happiness and love from a world that was suddenly dark.

Beside her, Remus drew in a sharp breath. "The students are coming," he murmured.

Tonks swiveled and watched them march from the castle. As they neared, she could see their sad, lost expressions. Tears were already streaking down many young faces, including those of boys who tried to comfort the girls.

She turned away, her chin trembling uncontrollably, on the verge of breaking her pledge.

Remus squeezed her hand. "Don't cry, Tonks," he whispered. "I'm still holding your hand."


~*~


Ginny Weasley wasn't quite sure of what to expect at the funeral. She'd never really been to one that hit home so hard. True, a couple distant relations had died, but she hadn't known them. She hadn't cared about their deaths, she was ashamed to admit. And there sure as hell weren't this many people at Second-Cousin Muriel's funeral.

But one thing she certainly wasn't expecting to see at all was…romance?

Ginny nudged Hermione, who was walking close to Ron. "Hermione!" she whispered loudly. "Look!"

She pointed discreetly at the amazing sight of a pink-haired Tonks holding hands with Remus Lupin. A relationship – or lack of one – between them had been pointed out in the hospital wing that fateful night, but Ginny, sensing Lupin's reluctance, had not thought it would ever exist.

Hermione's teary eyes widened. "Oh!" she breathed. "Oh, how absolutely lovely! They'll make such a nice couple."

Ginny quirked her mouth. "Never had the notion that you were so romantic, Hermione."

The older girl's eyes flickered to Ron, who was staring at his feet. Ginny chuckled.

But this was neither the place nor the time for chuckling, Ginny reflected sadly as they neared the chairs. More was the pity. Dumbledore liked people to laugh.

She followed Ron and Hermione into a row near the lake, comforted by Harry's warm presence behind her. They exchanged slight smiles briefly.

There were so many people here who did not deserve to be, who were defiling the ceremony by their very presence.…Ginny clenched her fists, but before she could say anything to Harry, the voices started.

It came from the lake, an unearthly tune that resonated through the air and hushed those who still dared to speak. Wrapping around them, consuming them completely in its lament…

Harry was turning his head this way and that, trying to discern the source. Ginny, still captivated by the music and the merpeople, nudged him and whispered, "In there."

Somehow the music, in a universal language of mourning, did what a speaking voice could not: it told her that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, genius of his time, had ceased to exist.

Diamond tears fell from her eyes, staining her cheeks before the funeral had even really started.

Ginny noticed Hagrid walking up the aisle, weeping silently, carrying something wrapped in purple velvet. Her stomach jolted unpleasantly.

Harry still stared at the lake, oblivious, his face blank. Ginny tapped him again, and he too saw Hagrid. Harry's face twisted horribly.

She couldn't watch him. She couldn't look at his face and see the pain there, not without howling with complete misery. Nor could she observe what was going on at the marble table. She needed something else to focus on…

A flash of bright pink caught her eye. Ginny followed it and latched onto it desperately.

Tonks and Lupin. Tonks and Lupin.

She concentrated on them, the back of their heads, their joined hands, their love in the face of this world. It was what should be. What Dumbledore would have wanted.

The tears kept falling. Ginny stared harder.

It was amazing, she supposed, what one woman's perseverance could do. From the hospital wing scene, she could tell that Tonks had been on Lupin's case at least all year, and he had refused her all year. And now here they were, holding hands, gathering strength from each other.

If Tonks can do it, then so can I, Ginny thought determinedly. When Harry says we have to go our separate ways. Because I know he will. I'll wait. I'll argue with him. And it will all turn out all right.

She smiled through her tears as Tonks laid her head on Lupin's shoulder, and he lifted his free hand to her face. They would last. They would love. They would live.

A volley of arrows rained across the sky, and Ginny came to her senses, somewhat confused. She glimpsed the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest turning tail and running away. The merpeople disappeared as well.

As Harry turned to her, sadness rampant in his green eyes, Ginny forgot Tonks and Lupin and readied herself to face what she knew was to come.


~*~


"You didn't cry," Remus said when the funeral ended.

"I didn't," Tonks agreed, her jaw aching — she'd been clenching it the whole time.

"You nearly crushed my hand into powder, though," Remus added.

"You know you liked it," Tonks said absently. She stood, stretched, and led him up to the marble tablet.

"Tonks — " Remus started nervously.

"Hush," she ordered gently. She walked behind the tomb to where the centaurs' arrows had fallen.

They stood motionless, gazing down at the fallen tribute. Eventually, Tonks leaned down and picked one up. The arrow shaft was surprisingly smooth, the wood a rich, dark color. The head was chiseled to a fine point.

"It's hard to believe…" she said in a low voice. "I mean…he's not coming back. And I somehow just can't comprehend that."

Remus kissed the top of her head, hugging her tightly. "We'll make it," he murmured. "As the months wear on, we will start to realize…and we will remember all he's done for us…"

Tonks leaned against his chest, drawing strength from him. After a pause, she said, "Well, I suppose we'd better go." She smiled up him. "Remus, I'm glad that you were with me today."

He smiled back warmly. "And I'm glad I came to my senses in time to realize what was missing from my life."

Hand in hand, they left the memorial, heading for the open gates.


~*~
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on
And it makes me wonder...

BONUS EPILOGUE!: BILL AND FLEUR'S WEDDING







"Oh, Hermione, you're here!"

As soon as she stepped in the door, Hermione Granger was embraced by a plump, floury Mrs. Weasley. Behind her, a gangly red-haired boy lingered awkwardly. Hermione's heart thudded.

"Well, it will be very nice to have another pair of helping hands, that French woman hasn't the least idea how to cook wholesome meals, unless you call snails wholesome, and of course Fleur is too busy with her gown and bridesmaids," Mrs. Weasley chattered. Hermione noticed that she didn't say a single derogatory word against Fleur. "Gabrielle is a sweet little girl, but not very skilled in matters of the kitchen or of cleaning. Ginny's just sulking, you know her. Hermione, dear, if you wouldn't mind, put your things in Ginny's room and come down to help me with a bit of cooking? I told Tonks and Remus to come by for dinner."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ron at the news of the couple; he blushed and wouldn't look at her.

Is he – ? Does he – ? Hermione thought hopefully.

"Ron, come up with me?" she queried timidly.

"Oh – oh yeah, sure," he agreed hastily. "Er, I'll take your bag…" He brushed his hand against hers in his effort to grab the handle. Their faces turned red.

Hermione smiled at him. "It's okay, Ron."

To her utter surprise and glee, Ron suddenly stooped down and planted a kiss on her cheek. "It's – it's nice to see you," he stammered as an explanation.

"Oh," Hermione said softly, her cheeks coloring. "Well, it's, er, it's really nice to see you as well."

Conversation was out of the question as they walked up the stairs — or, in Ron's case, tripped up the stairs. Not graceful at the best of times, suddenly he had two left feet.

"Ron, is there something the matter?" Hermione finally ventured.

Ron breathed in deeply and exhaled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, er, a bit. Hermione, I just wanted to ask, would you — ?"

"Hi, Hermione!"

Ginny bounced out of her room, cutting of Ron's words. He looked, Hermione couldn't help but notice, a little relieved.

"Hi, Ginny!" Hermione returned, grateful for the distraction. "How's it been?"

For a moment, Ginny's face fell. Then she brightened again. "Oh, well, it's been all right. A little sad, a little obnoxious," she admitted with good cheer. "I mostly amuse myself by watching Lupin and Tonks together. You wouldn't expect him to be that good a snogger, but he and Tonks seem quite into it." Ginny grinned wickedly. "Spying has its merits."

Ron shuddered. Hermione frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

"It's just — that was our teacher," he moaned.

Hermione brow knitted further. "So?"

"Watching a teacher do that sort of stuff as opposed to watching a teenager do it…well, it's just creepy," Ron explained helplessly. "I mean, Lupin's a great guy and all, but he's…what, he's like thirty-seven or so, and he's snogging Tonks, who's a pink-haired twenty-four-year-old. Just doesn't mesh, you know?"

Hermione glanced back and forth between the Weasley siblings uncertainly. "Do you mean they…you know…snog in front of everyone?"

Ginny snorted. "Correction. Tonks occasionally lays one on him in full view, but Lupin always blushes. We watched them leave out the window, once, and they snogged for ages. I thought their faces would turn blue from oxygen loss."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. Sweet as the two in question were, she couldn't bring herself to picture them passionately kissing. That was a taboo subject about teachers.

"Well, enough of snogging," she said uncomfortably. "Er, do you know when Harry's coming?"

Ginny's face darkened again. "Sometime later this evening, I think."

"Yeah," Ron affirmed.

"Oh, good," Hermione sighed. For some reason, things with Ron were extremely awkward, more so than they had been in the school year.

Ron cast her a suspicious look. "Why d'you want to know so badly?" he asked rather nastily. "Missing him?"

"Yes, I am!" Hermione snapped haughtily. "After all, Harry is one of my best friends, you know, and frankly, you're not being a very good conversationalist right now, Ronald!" She flounced past Ginny into the room.

Ginny, laughing uproariously, shut the door in Ron's aghast face. "That was wicked!" she chortled happily. "Oh, Hermione, the look on his face…"

Hermione bit her lip rather nervously. "I didn't offend him too badly, did I?"

"No worse than usual," Ginny assured her, still grinning. "Hermione, why don't you just tell him you fancy him?"

Hermione flopped onto the bed. "I as good as did," she mumbled. "I invited him to go to that party with me. I was ridiculously outraged when he was snogging Lavender. I cried on his shoulder at the…well, you know. What more am I supposed to do? Prance around with a neon sign that reads, 'Snog me, Ronald Weasley'?"

Ginny pursed her lips. "Not a bad idea, actually. I'm kidding," she added hastily. "Hermione, I have the strong suspicion that he fancies you quite a lot."

Hermione sat up quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, it could have been the fact that I heard him pacing in his room muttering, 'How do I tell Hermione I fancy her?'" Ginny said honestly.

Hermione smiled delightedly. "Really?"

"Really," Ginny confirmed. "Just say it to him. At least dance with him."

"It's not that easy — " Hermione started, but at that moment, Mrs. Weasley's shout of, "Girls, come help in the kitchen!" rang up the stairs.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Back to the toil of slavery."

They went down, each wrapped up in thoughts of romance and snogging.


~*~


Harry arrived a few hours later, much to everyone's – except Ginny's – glee. The four were joined by Fleur's younger sister Gabrielle, who was sweet, if rather quiet. However, that did not allow them much of an opportunity to talk about certain important matters, such as Horcruxes and Hogwarts.

Soon their stomachs began growling, and Ron took to checking the time frequently. "When are they going to get here?" he moaned, referring to the absent couple.

"Didn't think you'd ever want to see them, Ron," Ginny jibed scathingly.

Ron shrugged, missing the insult. "If it means food, let them come."

Directly after he said this, a shout rang up the stairs. "Good evening, Weasley family and company!"

The teenagers grinned at each other. "Tonks," they chorused, bolting down the stairs.

Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and Harry skidded into the kitchen and laid their eyes on the newcomers.

For a moment, Hermione thought she was imagining things. Professor Lupin…wouldn't have his arm around her waist, would he? Tonks wouldn't have suspiciously red and swollen lips, would she?

And above all, Tonks wouldn't be wearing a small but sparkly diamond ring on her left ring finger…would she?

Ginny followed the direction of Hermione's gaze. "Oh, yeah," she said, smiling slyly, "we forgot to tell you about that, didn't we?"

Tonks saw them and beamed. "Wotcher, everyone!" To Hermione's surprise, the woman came over and hugged Harry and her. "Good to see you two, especially. I've been dealing with the Weasley rascals all summer, but you two are fresh faces."

Hermione blinked, surprised, but decided that being in love must make you more affectionate. "You too, Tonks. And congratulations!" She threw a glance at Lupin. "And to you as well, Professor."

"Thanks, Hermione," Lupin said cheerfully.

Tonks grinned at Hermione and Ginny conspiratorially. "I practically had to ask him myself," she whispered so that only the two girls could hear. They giggled.

"Let's eat, everyone!" Mrs. Weasley was carrying steaming platters of food to the table by now. "Get it before it's cold."

Tonks bounded over. "I'll help, Molly!"

Mrs. Weasley hesitated. "Oh, there's not too much more, dear — "

"No, I'd better get used to this household stuff before I – OOF!"

Tonks tripped on the kitchen floor and staggered forward. Lupin instantly leaped up and caught her around the waist, steadying her.

She smiled up at him gratefully. "Thanks, Remus." Then she kissed him. Ginny was right, Hermione noted, he did flush an interesting shade of pink when snogged in company.

"Come, let's sit down," Mrs. Weasley said, beaming at them.

Ginny frowned as they sat. "Where is everyone?"

"My mother ees not feeling vairy well," Gabrielle volunteered. "She deecided to skeep dinnair."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Your father's still at work, of course, and Fred, George, Bill, and Fleur all went to eat down in the village." She sighed, obviously worried. "I do hope Charlie makes it here in time, but work is awfully busy for him, you know."

The dinner was quite pleasant, made amusing by Tonks's funny comments and witty banter. Lupin injected bits of humor into the conversation as well. All in all, Hermione would have enjoyed it quite a lot if there weren't more pressing matters that needed to be spoken of with Ron and Harry…

But Hermione couldn't quite escape after dinner. Ginny tugged her sleeve and mouthed, 'Come with me,' so she had nothing to do but oblige. Quietly, the two sneaked into a little-used, long-forgotten alcove that looked out into the front yard.

Hermione, a little cramped in the small space, raised her eyebrows at Ginny. "Why are we here?" she asked bluntly.

Ginny, who was peering out the window, suddenly smiled smugly, her eyes fixed on something outside. She motioned for Hermione to come over. "This is what I was talking about," she explained. Hermione, frowning, peeked out as well.

Tonks and Lupin were leaving the Burrow hand in hand, their shoulders so close that they touched. Before they reached the usual Apparating spot, they turned to each other, and…

"Oh, my," Hermione breathed, feeling her cheeks grow hot. "I'm not sure we should be watching this — "

"Don't be like that, you prude," Ginny retorted promptly. "It's not as if they're undressing each other, or anything."

Hermione shuddered at the thought. "But – but – he's kissing her neck! Ron's right, this really is strange."

When Ginny didn't answer, Hermione glanced at her. She was surprised to see a gentle, warm light kindling in Ginny's eyes. "No, it's not," Ginny said softly. "It's sweet. It's love."

Hermione bit her lip and didn't answer, only turned back and watched the couple. Then she looked closer.

Ginny was right. It wasn't strange anymore, with an impersonal eye. Even from here, Hermione could see the love shining in Lupin's eyes when he pulled back and rested his forehead on Tonks's.

"Oh," Hermione muttered uncomfortably. "Well, I suppose."

Ginny sized her up practically. "Hermione, how are you ever going to handle dating Ron if you're this unromantic?"

"I am not unromantic!" Hermione snapped, all the more vehemently because it was true. "Don't forget about Viktor, Ginny. After all, you're the one who rubbed it in Ron's face that I snogged him."

Ginny grinned. "Yeah, but you didn't really like Viktor as much as Ron, did you? You were mostly just trying to make Ron jealous."

Hermione blushed furiously. "No!" she protested. "I really did like Viktor."

"But of course," Ginny said absently. "Oh, they Apparated. Well, let's go find the boys."

Ginny exited the dark nook. Hermione started after her, then paused, thinking about what she'd just witnessed. If Tonks could rope in guilt-ridden Lupin, maybe there was hope for Ron and her.

Smiling, Hermione followed Ginny.


~*~


Crazy as the next week was, the wedding was slow to approach, almost supernaturally so. However, not even Time can stop to torture humans, and eventually the morning dawned.

"Eet looks like zere weel be rain," Gabrielle said worriedly, peering out the window.

Hermione glanced out quickly. "Oh, nonsense. There's about one cloud in the sky."

Ginny said nothing. She was struggling into her ivory dress robes. Fleur, in picking out the bridesmaids' dress robes, changed her mind from gold and said that white was the only color that both the girls would look good in.

"We would've been fine in gold," Ginny grumbled, apparently thinking along the same lines as Hermione.

"Oh, non, eet ees 'orrible with my 'air," Gabrielle protested gently. Secretly, Hermione thought the girl, young as she was, could not look horrible in anything, and instantly regretted her jealousy.

"Well, anyway, you two are both lovely in ivory, and Fleur will stand out in silver," Hermione said.

"What color are you wearing, Hermione?" Ginny queried.

"Oh." Hermione blushed. "Well…all right, you're going to laugh at me…I mean, there really wasn't much selection there, I didn't have much of a choice…"

Ginny folded her arms implacably. "Hermione, let me see them."

Sighing rather miserably, Hermione pulled the offending robes out.

Ginny's face didn't change a bit save for the slight twitching at the corners of her mouth. "They're…pink."

"I prefer 'dusty rose,'" Hermione said defensively. "These were really the only ones. The only other color was orange and I hate orange."

Ginny shrugged prosaically. "Well, at least they're not lavender," she said innocently, which earned her a glare from Hermione. "Oh, come on, they're really not that bad, and I'm sure you look very nice in them. You and Ron will look like baby decorations, though, he has light blue, and that might give Bill and Fleur the wrong idea."

Gabrielle gasped. "Oh, eet would be lovely to 'ave a baby in zee family!"

Ginny snorted. "Well, it would be one pretty kid, that's all I have to say."

The three prepared themselves for the upcoming event with relative ease, although Hermione needed help with her unruly hair and Ginny insisted on putting makeup on her.

It was a nervous, giggly procession that stumbled down the stairs, patting pieces of hair in place and trying not to wrinkle their robes. Hermione, not girly in the best of times, was actually getting caught up in Ginny and Gabrielle's mutual excitement over their appearances, much to her dismay.

At the entrance to the kitchen, she paused, awkward again. From the sounds of it, Ron and Harry, as well as the twins, were already there.

Ginny saw Hermione's hesitation over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the love of — !" She grabbed Hermione's arm, heedless of creasing the fabric, and tugged her in.

Ron's awed, shocked countenance was nearly reward enough, she decided as she stood in the middle of the floor, blushing for all she was worth.

"Why, Hermione, you look lovely!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "That shade of pink is perfect for you."

No pink is perfect for me, Hermione thought mutinously, but almost changed her mind when Ron swallowed audibly and said, "Wow, Hermione…you look great."

"Thanks, Ron," she said, sitting down to eat breakfast. "You look nice yourself." He did, in fact, as the baby blue of his robes certainly set off his eyes to perfection.

Harry also had new robes. "Scarlet for Gryffindor, I suppose?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged, smiling slightly. "Right." He lowered his voice so only she and Ron could hear. "Or for blood."

Hermione cast him a nervous, worried glance. "Harry, you — ?"

"Oh, eet ees entirely too 'ot in zis keetchen!"

Fleur's rail-thin mother, apparently over her indisposition from the previous night, sailed in. It was only minutes before the couple entered the kitchen, Charlie knocked on the door, and Mr. Weasley emerged from his study. The pandemonium was incredible. Eventually, Mrs. Weasley ordered the teenagers and Gabrielle into another room to fritter away the hours until the wedding.

And so they frittered. Hermione read an advanced book of Transfigurations; Ron and Harry played Exploding Snap; and Ginny and Gabrielle pored over their supplies of WonderWitch products. The clock ticked relentlessly.

After about a decade of waiting, Mrs. Weasley poked her head in, her entire person quivering with suppressed excitement and tears. "All right, it's nearly time," she whispered excitedly. "Ginny, Gabrielle, come with me. Dears, you three go find yourselves seats right up front with the family."

Hermione and Harry followed Ron across the lawn to the vastly decorated trellis arch and folding chairs in front of it. They slipped into the end of second row and seated themselves. Somehow, Hermione found herself squashed between Ron and Harry, which was uncomfortable in more ways than one.

"You've had a good summer, Hermione?" Ron asked absently, his face inexplicably pink.

"Oh, it's – it's been all right," she replied, flustered. "You?"

"A little dull," he managed, yanking at the collar of his shirt.

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione, finicky even in the face of the boy she loved, couldn't resist. She leaned across him and, reaching just below the clasp of his dress robes, straightened the tie and collar again. "You've made a mess of yourself."

Their eyes locked, and Hermione gulped, suddenly feeble. She sat back with a thump. "Stop fidgeting," she said faintly.

Ron stared at her for a moment, then looked down. "Right," he said tersely, not meeting her eyes.

Feeling rather snubbed, Hermione faced Harry, determined to be cheerful. She opened her mouth to speak, then noticed the soft but smug grin that decorated his lips.

"What are you smirking about?" she asked crossly.

"Nothing," he replied innocently. "Oh, look, it's starting!"

Hermione craned her neck. Bill was standing at the altar, looking extremely dashing in his tailored navy robes, an indescribably happy grin wreathing his face as he watched two small children toddle their way down the aisle. The little blonde girl flung petals with careless abandon as the older redhead boy bore a tasseled pillow with marked solemnity. Hermione smiled when he tossed the girl a withering glance of scorn, which she returned by blowing a raspberry.

Ginny and Gabrielle, resplendent in their creamy robes, proceeded next, clutching bouquets of white flowers that Hermione couldn't name. On her right, Harry breathed in sharply. Hermione could understand why: Ginny was utterly gorgeous, in a way she herself would never be.

And then, to the sounds of an enchanted organ, came Fleur, shining with a beauty so bright it nearly blinded them.

It was everything a wedding should be: properly sentimental and bittersweet, punctuated by the sounds of matrons sniffling and men clearing their throats anxiously, uncomfortable in their stuffy robes and thinking longingly of dinner. Hermione's attention never wavered, however, as she gazed at the couple and wondered wistfully if this would ever be for her…

"You may now kiss the bride."

Hermione averted her eyes as Bill leaned toward Fleur. It hurt a bit too much to watch. Neither did she join in the raucous cheers as the two sped back down the aisle, beaming and tripping, to the house, where they would change out of their wedding finery and into more casual robes.

In the meantime, some of the adults began conjuring small round tables for the reception. Mrs. Weasley grabbed the nearest female relations and recruited them for kitchen duty.

"Come on, let's sit," Harry advised, darting over to the nearest table. Hermione joined him, closely followed by Ron and Ginny. They had not sat particularly strategically for awkwardness: Hermione was between Ginny and Ron, the former of whom was on Harry's right.

"Mind if we sit here?"

Hermione glanced up and, to her immense surprise, saw Tonks in blinding yellow robes and Lupin in more sedate forest green standing above them.

"Not at all," Ron choked out desperately. Hermione agreed — under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be too chuffed at having the couple lingering around them, despite how much she liked them. In this case, they would be welcome: the tension at the table was thick enough to be cut up and served for dinner.

"If you don't mind my asking, why not sit with, er, adults?" Harry asked.

"Everywhere else is full," Lupin supplied. "And I think Molly wanted someone responsible at this table," he added, smiling slightly.

Ginny grinned. "So she sent Tonks?"

"No, she sent Remus," Tonks contradicted cheerfully. "Where one goes, the other follows, like it or not."

Tonks then proceeded to ask Harry about his plans of becoming an Auror, and the question continued on to career advice. From the drawn, sad line of Harry's mouth, Hermione could tell he was wondering if he'd even have that future, but everyone wisely kept quiet about plans for the upcoming school year.

A chord of music interrupted their speech. Turning, Hermione caught sight of a classy-looking silver-haired witch who'd obviously had cosmetic surgery somewhere readying herself to sing. "Who is that?" she asked.

"Celestina Warbeck," Lupin replied, smiling slightly at Tonks for no reason that Hermione could fathom.

The woman began to croon something soft and jazzy as food appeared on the tables. Too famished to pay much attention to anything else, Hermione fell upon the repast gratefully, as did everyone else.

For the most part, chatter covered up Celestina's singing, but as the remnants of the meals faded away, there was no disguising the slow, romantic beat of her music. Bill and Fleur were naturally the first out on the floor for a whole song. After that, Bill dragged a sobbing Mrs. Weasley onto the cleared space for dancing while Fleur waltzed with her father. After that, however…

"Come on, let's go," Tonks said happily, lacing her hand into Lupin's.

"Do we…?" he started hopelessly, smiling despite himself.

"Yes," she answered with a teasing grin, "we do."

Hermione watched the two wrap their arms around each other. Something in the way Lupin stared down at the pink head nestled on his shoulder caused her throat to close up.

"You okay, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"Fine," she sniffed. "Hay fever, that's all."

Perhaps Ginny would have continued, or hinted that Hermione should ask Ron to dance, but before she could open her determined mouth, Harry said quietly, "Ginny, d'you want to dance?"

The younger girl all but melted. It never ceased to amaze Hermione how, sometimes, the right words from Harry could turn a strong-willed teenager into a shy little girl. "Yeah, of course, Harry," Ginny answered, just as softly. The once-couple floated onto the dance floor. They, too, had the expressions of wonder and joy so absolute it caused pain.

From her right, Ron glanced up anxiously. "Hay fever that bad?"

Hermione wiped her eyes. "I'm sure I'll be all right in a moment."

Ron shifted. "Well, er, Mum has some potion for that, if you want it."

Curse him for being so thick. "It's fine, Ronald," Hermione retorted, a bit testily.

"You don't have to snap at me!"

"Well, you didn't need to keep insisting, I told you I'm fine!"

"You don't look it!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I mean, you're bloody crying and sniffling all over the place…"

"Some of the pollen must have blown over, really…"

"Right, well, d'you want to get up and dance to get away from it?"

For a shocked moment, Hermione stared at Ron, trying to hear through the buzzing in her ears. Ron wore an expression last seen when he was belching slugs. "Sorry, Hermione," he mumbled, running his hands through his hair.

"Well – I – er – I – well, if you were serious, Ron, of course I'll dance with you," Hermione stuttered, losing control of her tongue for one of the first times.

He gaped at her. "Really?"

Hermione nodded, barely suppressing a beam.

"Oh. Er. All right, then." Ron stood awkwardly and held out his hand in an attempt at gallantry. "Let's go."

Hermione slipped her hand into his and allowed him to pull her to her feet and over to the dance floor. There they stood, self-conscious and blushing.

"Erm…I'm not sure how to do this…"

"Not really me, either." Hermione smiled at him. "I've only done it once, and, well, don't really remember…not sure we did it right, at any rate…"

They settled on copying Lupin and Tonks, who certainly knew what they were doing (and were capable of multitasking; Hermione hadn't known you could kiss and waltz at the same time, but apparently so). Ron's hand on her waist was as light and unsure as a butterfly: his touch trembled, wavered, as if he might snatch it away at any moment. His other hand, however, held hers in a sure, if slightly sweaty, clasp.

"Maybe it's these potions fumes I've inhaled / backfired spells that I've tried and failed / it could be a sign from up above / but you know what it is? I think it's love…" Celestina Warbeck breathed.

The music and the atmosphere made Hermione both drowsy and brave. Hesitantly, she pillowed her head against Ron's chest, breathing in his clean scent of freshly cut grass. Emboldened by her action, he in turn rested his chin against the top of her head. Did his lips brush her hair? Possibly.

Hermione smiled to herself. Perhaps she, Ron, and Harry wouldn't go back to Hogwarts. Perhaps they'd be killed. These were the hardest times anyone could live through. It was a dangerous world.

But for the time being, at least she had this.

And perhaps, one day, it would all turn out for the better.


~*~
No other road, no other way,
No day but today…