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.
To say goodbye...