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…