Nymphadora Tonks stretched sleepily and opened her eyes. Sunlight seeped into her otherwise dark room from the gaps in the curtains. Tonks, despite being awake, continued to lie in bed with the warmth of the blankets tucked up and around her neck.
She sighed happily. Weekend mornings with no obligations and plenty of time for a lie in were some of the most wonderful things ever created. She adored how she could lie happily in bed without it wrecking some plan or another.
Her world was warm and soft, and she, Nymphadora Tonks, was unbelievably pleased with life.
She raised her hand out from underneath the warmth of the blanket to brush several sleepy locks of hair – pink, today – away from her eyes. Once she had returned it to its proper place, she continued to play with it; stroking it into place and enjoying the tactile sensations of the soft hair against her fingers.
She felt a grin growing – the feel of running her fingers through soft hair reminded her of Remus. And of what she and Remus had done the night before. He had come over to her flat and she’d made dinner (it was successful in that all of the food turned out properly – nothing was underdone and nothing was burnt). Even though it might not have tasted exactly the way it should have, he had eaten it without complaint and had even complimented her cooking skills.
And then they had sat and talked for hours. They had talked about serious things like the Order and the impending war and they had talked about silly things like how her lamp made animal-shaped shadows out of her furniture. They had laughed and touched and smiled for the entire night.
Tonks pulled her fingers away from her hair and touched her cheek with just a finger, the way Remus had when he’d said good night. The night had been so wonderful - Remus had been so wonderful – and Tonks sighed happily again.
This was what she had been waiting for all her life: that someone who made her happy just by walking into the room; a person she could talk to for hours and never tire of them. All of the other men she had known in school or from work weren’t as interesting or as kind or as funny as Remus, even when he was exhausted and mentally drained.
Tonks rolled over again and shut her eyes to escape the bright sunlight.
This, she thought as she drifted back to sleep, must be love.
--
Remus lay alone in his flat, completely awake, watching the sun’s progression as it crept across the floor.
He hadn’t actually slept that night even though he’d been tired and had a long and difficult week ahead of him. Sleep had just been impossible.
Since he’d left Tonks’ flat, his mind had been racing, teeming with thoughts that jumbled themselves together and sloshed about in his head.
They had spent a wonderful evening together. She’d cooked for him, and the food, while not spectacular, had been prepared with so much affection that there was no possible way it could have tasted bad. After they had cleaned up the dinner things (which she had been all in favor of leaving until the next morning) they had just spent time together.
They had talked and they had laughed and he had remembered how good it felt to care for someone other than himself. She and all that she did made him smile as he remembered tiny details – like the way she had held his hand. She had taken his hand in the palm of her own and held it open while her other hand gently explored and caressed it.
If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the sensation of his hand in hers and the warmth that had been conveyed at the smallest of touches. A small smile spread across his face as he thought of how happy they had been the night before.
He loved her. As much as he had tried earlier in their relationship to deny it, he was in love with Nymphadora Tonks.
And that scared him. He didn’t know how to be in love. He’d always removed himself before anything that seemed like love entered a relationship. It would be too dangerous to fall in love. He could injure his partner both physically and socially. Someone may love him, yes, but no one would sacrifice their position in society and their acceptance in the community by staying with a werewolf. Once the bloom was off the rose, any relationship would be over and Remus would be vulnerable to anything that his former partner might do.
So it had been easier to simply stay out of relationships. But now Tonks was here and he loved her. He couldn’t say how exactly it had happened, but it had and that was what mattered.
They were happy now, certainly, but what about in a few years or even a few months? Would Tonks still be so accepting of his condition, or would the novelty of it have worn off?
Remus groaned aloud even though there was no one to hear him. His life had already been so difficult, why did love have to be difficult too? Didn’t he deserve a break? It was hard to be in love and constantly worried about Tonks when he had so much to worry about already.
If they were no longer together, that would certainly simplify things, but the thought made Remus feel ill. Tonks didn’t deserve that.
But then again, he thought sourly, she also didn’t deserve an older outcast of a man when there were so many other healthy and whole young men for her to choose.
His life was becoming much too complicated in ways that it shouldn’t. Love should have been a happy thing, not something that kept him up all night wondering if he’d made the right decisions.
Remus lay still for several moments before reaching across the bed to the table. His hand groped through the clutter until he found a quill, a bottle of ink, and a piece of parchment, which was bigger than he imagined as he heard it tear when he pulled the writing supplies towards him.
It didn’t take him long to compose the note and, when it was done, he whistled for his owl, gave her instructions, and sent her out into the bright sunlight.
Remus shut his eyes and almost grudgingly began to fall into an uneasy sleep.
--
Tonks was startled out of sleep by sharp rapping on her bedroom window. As her eyes shifted back into focus, she realized that the noises were being created by an owl pecking insistently on the glass.
Reluctantly, Tonks left the warmth of her bed to let the owl in. It was Remus’ owl, she noticed, and she eagerly accepted the letter that it proffered for her.
The piece of parchment inside the envelope was small and looked as though it had been rather carelessly ripped from a larger sheet. The message was short and Tonks’ eyes scanned it quickly. It was so short that she read it twice before her throat constricted.
Tonks, this is too hard for me. I’m sorry. –R
She stared at the paper numbly, unable to breathe from the shock and unable to tear her eyes away from the horrible words.
She simply sat, clutching the parchment in her fist. She didn’t cry – it would blur the view of the words - but her breathing came in ragged fits and starts.
After what felt like hours, Tonks dazedly reached for her own quill and ink. She didn’t bother finding another piece of parchment; she merely added her response onto his message.
When she had signed her name with a bit more flourish than was absolutely necessary, she gave the note back to the owl, which flew off in the direction of Remus’ flat.
As she watched it fly, the tears finally fell and obscured her vision. When the world was nothing more than a hazy blur, Tonks returned to her bed and hoped with all her might that Remus would accept what she had said.
--
Although he didn’t think that he had fallen asleep, Remus was still jerked awake by his irritated owl rapping on his closed window.
With a rather sinking feeling, Remus remembered what she was returning from delivering and went to let her in. Much to his surprise, she held out a scrap of parchment to him.
Further to his surprise, it appeared to be the very piece that he had sent to Tonks. Holding it again, he felt the rush of guilt at how much anguish it must have caused her.
However, he stubbornly pushed the guilt down with the reassurance that he had done the right thing for both of them.
He opened the note and saw his words just the way that he had written them an hour previously. But, with a small rush in his stomach, he saw that Tonks had written something underneath:
It’s supposed to be hard, you fool. – Tonks
He stared at her words, which were brimming with confidence and what he knew was love, and felt his rationality melt away.
Maybe Tonks was right.
Must Be/Maybe by Indigoenigma
Story Notes:
Thank you to Nikki for being a wonderful beta. This story is Leanne's, who requested it for Secret Spew V.
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Chapter Endnotes: ~*~*~
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