Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR's, as you can probably tell!

"I don't care. I've told you a million times."

Oh no.

I can practically feel everyone's eyes settle on us, and I don't dare look up. Don't think I could even if I tried because she is staring at me with something that's bordering on desperation; although there's anger there too, and hurt.

She's standing there in front of half the Order waiting for me to save her, to make it all better. She doesn't realise that's what I've been trying to do since I left. Save her from what a life with me would be like, pushing her away to keep her safe. Somehow though no matter how hard I push she keeps reaching back for me.

XXX

"You don't seem surprised." I haven't even taken my coat off. In fact I'm barely through the door before I've told her. I've always been abysmal at hiding things from her though, and I'd been preparing a speech on the way over. Working out how she'd react. In all honesty I had been expecting to be ducking about now.

"I work at the Ministry. I read the papers, Remus," she's leaning back against the wall, arms folded over the T-shirt that barely comes down to her knees. That's all she's wearing. That, and those ridiculously fluffy socks. "I know what's been going on. I thought maybe you'd get roped into doing something like this."

"And?"

"Well," she looks up at me, "I could shout at you, and cry, or throw something if it will make you feel better. You'll still leave won't you? And I'd rather we didn't split up over this."

I manage to meet her eyes eventually.

"Oh Merlin, we are going to split over this. You're going to dump me aren't you? No doubt because of some misplaced and totally inappropriate hero complex."

"I wouldn't have put it quite like that." I was going to tell her it was for her own good, but judging by the way her nostrils are starting to flare that may not be such a good idea.

"But you do have a speech planned, right?"

"I did."

"And?"

"It's all crap really." I sit down heavily, and still wearing my coat. She hasn't moved. Still by the bookshelf with her arms folded and legs crossed slightly. Almost as though she doesn't quite trust herself. I notice there's a bulky looking picture frame by her elbow.

"I don't even get the edited highlights?" She sounds like she's teasing, but her voice is too weary to really pull it off. I had made contingency plans for what I'd do if she cried, but now I'm here I think I'll probably start as well and it'll just be a mess. "Oh," I scrap the speech and fall back on some old favourites, "I'm too old for you, too poor, too…"

"…dangerous?" she says for me, "Merlin, Remus, why don't you just get it put on a T-shirt?" I watch her pinch the bridge of her nose and then she manages to look back at me. "Seriously. I thought we'd moved past all that."

"It seems a bit more relevant now. If Greyback found out about you…"

"I'd kick his arse." She looks at me defiantly, "What about you? Do you honestly think that if you cut yourself off from everybody it'll make things any easier?"

"Yes." It's my turn to look defiant; although I think I can only manage stubborn.

"When do you leave?" She cuts across me.

"As soon as possible."

She wasn't expecting that.

"Oh."

The silence drags on for a bit. Moving from painful to excruciating in less than ten seconds.

"Are you going to stay tonight?"

"I don't think I can."

"Clean break, huh?"

"I think it's sensible."

Her snort is packed with derision, and seems to motivate her away from the wall. "Goodbye then."

It's more abrupt then even I'd expected and she must see my surprise.

"Sorry," she snaps, "I'd like to offer you tea and cake, but you have just dumped me for no better reason than you're a prat, and the thing is I really do want to cry and throw something. I'd just rather do it when you aren't here."

I can see her hand shake slightly, and she crosses her arms again so she can glare at me.

"You don't understand. This can't work between us. Especially not now."

"But it was working fine. I know I don't do patience, but I'm not going to loose interest just because you're away for a while."

"What if it's longer?"

"I like a challenge."

"What if I don't come back?"

"What if I meet Auntie Bella on a street corner one day?"

"You are being ridiculous."

Not a sensible thing to say to a woman; especially one who is clearly being ridiculous.

"Fine!" She yells, "have your dramatic bloody exit if it's what you want, but I'm not going to stop loving you just because you're a twit."

"Please. Try."

I don't even make it down the hall before I hear something hit the closed door with a thump. I think of going back, just for a second, but it wouldn't be fair. Not to either of us. I take the memory of her in that T-shirt and those stupid socks with me. It's something to think about when I'm fighting the rising odds.

XXX

At Christmas I nearly don't go to The Burrow. I tell myself that I'm not sure I can face people, that Molly's fussing will be too much, that I'm afraid of what I'll tell Harry if he asks what I've been up to. Truth is I don't want to see her. Well I do, very badly. The thought of her has got me through the last few months when it's been too cold to think and there's been nothing to scavenge. I shouldn't want to see her though. Have no right to see her, really. I spend the whole of Christmas Eve wondering if she'll turn up because of course she'll spend Christmas Day with her family. For half of Christmas Day I continue the delusion. Then eventually, because I'm too chicken to ask out right, I find out that she's by herself.

And then of course I feel awful. Firstly because she is spending Christmas by herself, and secondly because the implication is that it's because she's avoiding me.

Then Harry mentions her Patronus.

I think things can't get any worse. Then a very distressed Molly Weasley corners me in the kitchen.

"Let me help you with those, Molly."

She looks at me with an anger that's so similar to Tonks's that for a minute I think she is going to throw the cups at me. Instead she puts them down heavily, "I'm alright Remus, just a bit of a shock seeing Percy. I can't believe he brought that horrible man here to interrogate Harry like that."

"I think Harry dealt with it admirably. He's stronger than we give him credit for."

"Most people are." She is glaring at me again, and I step back into the counter.

"You shouldn't have pushed her away like that. Tonks is a grown woman."

"Molly," I try and stay strong and sure about the whole thing, but I can hear the defensive edge in my voice, the way I am talking slightly too fast, "this isn't helping anyone."

"Remus Lupin you are in love with her. Don't try to deny it. And she is besotted with you. I know how that feels: it's like fire in the blood, and if you don't acknowledge that you are a fool."

I am beginning to realise what the twins feel like when confronted with that matronly anger. It gives me knew respect for them.

"For Godric's sake, stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it," Molly concludes before slamming down the cups and marching out of the kitchen.

That's the reason I find myself sitting outside the Hog's Head on the night of Christmas Day; just watching. I had planned something more dramatic, but the wall looked comfier than another argument. I do want to see her, and just give in. It's tomorrow I'm worried about, and the days after that.

Aberforth comes out eventually.

"You could at least come in you dunce," he lowers his bulk onto the wall next to me.

I shake my head.

"She'd be pleased to see you. Talks about you all the time. Most of it's not complimentary though."

"I can imagine."

"Come in."

"No." I shift on the wall, burying my hands deeper into the warmth of my pockets.

The holiday is over and I know what I have to go back to. If I went in there now I don't think I'd be able to leave again. I barely think that I can leave now. I could quite happily sit here all night watching the window that I've convinced myself is hers.

"The pair of you can't go on like this."

"Like what?"

"Her trying to prove she's angry and you sat in the cold pretending you've let her go. Which is bollocks isn't it?"

"I confess it's harder than I thought it would be."

"Because the thought of her keeps you going doesn't it? Makes what you're fighting for more solid?"

"It shouldn't."

"I think she reckons you're one of the good ones, and that's why she is holding out for you."

"She shouldn't."

Aberforth shares some of his choice opinions with me about people who don't know what's good for them, and his brother who seems to think he knows what's good for everybody else. Then he gives me some Butterbeer, as a Christmas present, he says. He's lying, but I take it anyway convincing myself that I'll share it with some of the children. The truth is I am finding it incredibly easy to accept charity these days.

XXX

As always, Snape keeps me waiting. It's part of the routine we have. I turn up early to show my pathetic gratitude, and he turns up late to prove how busy and important he is.

"Good Christmas?" I ask as he stalks down to the Forbidden Forest with the vials of Wolfsbane clanking against his knee. It's valuable stuff at the camp: mostly because it eases the pain. Although most of the higher-ranking wolves shun it because they think they have to prove something.

"Are you that starved of civilised conversation," he thrusts the bag at me, "or do you actually care?"

"I was being polite."

"Ever the gentleman. More so now I imagine. Given the critical state of your humanity."

He always told me I'd make an abysmal spy. "You're weak," he said, "and you show it. The sooner you accept that you are going to have to do things you hate, and that you wont be able to save everybody the easier it will be."

"Compassion does not make me weak." I replied, restraining from adding 'so there' on the end.

"It does if it gets you killed."

The smug expression he had on his face was similar to the one he is sporting now.

"I need to ask you something." I say quickly.

He looks at me, and smiles nastily. "Oh, this would be about dear Nymphadora's Patronus, would it?"

I nod.

"It's you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I have had first hand experience of you in your lupine state. Or had you forgotten?"

No I hadn't, but I'm surprised he had the chance to remember the specifics. But then he's always had an eye for detail and the ability to separate himself from his emotions. It's why he's so good at what he does.

"Do you love her?"

I start at the question. Especially because it's coming from him.

"Of course you do, otherwise you wouldn't keep me out in the cold while you whinge about it."

"I'm hardly whinging Severus. And whether I love her or not isn't the point is it? She can look after herself, and she doesn't need a white knight to come and rescue her."

"No, but for some indescribable reason she has decided she needs you. If I were you Lupin, and I loved her half as much as Molly Weasley seems to think you do, I'd get on my fiery stead any way and do something about it," he snarls the last words with new depths of malice. "Now. Otherwise you'll miss your chance and regret it for the rest of your miserable life."

Then he turns and walks quickly back up to the castle. I stand in the thawing snow trying to process the new information. What had I told Harry? An emotional upheaval? The sensible rational part of me had been hoping it was Padfoot. She had taken his death hard, and he did deserve to be remembered like that.

The part of me that I've been beating into submission a lot lately feels something that I really hope isn't smugness. No it can't be; it hurts too much, but that might be because there's an awful lot of shock in there as well. I never thought that I could hurt her that much, that she could really care for me that much. It's a heavy revelation that I've under estimated her so badly, and it takes me a while to be bothered to move again. It's only after I've crawled out of my cave of self-misery that I wonder who on earth Snape had ever been so in love with to make him talk from such bitter experience.

XXX

I jump when I see her.

She's standing by the fireplace of the Shrieking Shack scuffing her boot on the floor.

It's strange that I've been thinking about almost nothing but her, admittedly against my better judgement, and now she is here I can't think of a thing to say.

"Tonks." Unimaginative, but a good start non-the less.

She holds her wand at me lazily, "What was I wearing the last time you saw me?"

"A Weird Sisters T-shirt and very little else."

She gives me grin, which proves it's her more than any silly question.

"And for a bonus point can you remember the tour?"

No I can't, all I can remember is that it was red and clingy, "something about Merpeople?"

"Close enough. You had on the tie Molly bought you for your birthday, despite the amount of moaning you did about not wanting any presents."

"I swallowed my pride."

"Along with most of the chocolates from the kids."

"They were liqueurs. Where's Kingsley?"

She lowers her wand. "Well, while some of us are risking life and limb he has landed a cushy job doing the Muggle Prime Minister's paperwork."

She retrieves her bag from the floor, and opens it to peer inside. "Tea," she waves the packet at me, "and Firewhiskey. I take it this is for trading rather than your own benefit?"

"The whiskey is," I say, "although the tea helps people to talk as well."

"One more thing," she pulls out a dish covered in foil and enlarges it. "From Molly."

I take the shepherd's pie and don't bother to heat it. I nearly don't bother to get the spoon out of my pocket, and then I remember she's watching me.

"People steal them," I explain.

"Spoons?"

"People will steal anything when they don't have much to begin with. You don't have to wait."

"I do. Molly made me promise I'd make sure you ate all of that. Besides she wants her dish back. She's frightened that Greyback will steal it and use it for some nefarious purpose."

Any gratitude I felt towards Molly for the pie is overshadowed by something bitter. I'm really glad she's here which is why she needs to leave as quickly as possible. Hopefully she'll think I'm eating so fast because I'm hungry, which helpfully is partly true. The silence closes in around us, and I realise that I haven't actually been chewing anything for a while. I should say something, but all I can think of is her Patronus and what it means. The reality of it has been sinking in slowly, and I want to ask her about it. Should ask about it.

"How are you?" She sits next to me on the bed tapping her wand against the wooden frame.

I swallow forcefully noticing the way our legs have bumped together so naturally, as though our bodies are being more honest than we are.

"Fine," I say, "it's more of a holiday camp, really. Next week we're having a nobly knees competition."

"Is that your way of telling me to shut up so you can eat?"

"You know me so well."

Which of course she does and that's why I suddenly don't feel so hungry anymore, suddenly want her to stay more than anything.

"How are you?" I ask dryly.

"Oh fine," she says airily, "fighting Dementors, worrying about you. All in a days work."

"Don't worry about me."

"I can't really help it," she snaps, and then suddenly looks weary, the bright face she's been putting on for my benefit fades in an instant. "Not that it's any of your business if I still toss and turn at night worrying about what could happen to you. You dumped me, remember?"

"You could do better than me." It's still true. Has to be true, despite what her Patronus could mean.

"Oh for…," she gets up and rakes a hand though her hair, "please let's not do this again."

I offer her the shepherd's pie, and she pulls off a bit of the potato. Between us we finish it without arguing, or collapsing together on the bed. I try and work out which one would be worse.

"One more thing," she says before she goes and pulls a bar of Honeydukes out of her pocket and tucks it in mine. "Not for trading, or getting people to talk. It's for your own indulgent pleasure at a time of need. You got that?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because this is for me."

She grabs the front of my coat and pulls me into a kiss that is hard and desperate, and over far too soon. In fact it stops just when I've got over the shock and realise I shouldn't be allowing this sort of behaviour. She looks at me for a minute, still holding the front of my coat and biting her lip thoughtfully. Like a gormless idiot I find myself incapable of doing anything except staring back. "Dora…"

"Well then," she looks away, and smoothes the front of my coat carefully, "see you around." Then she's just a memory leaving loud clumping footsteps on the stairs.

Collapsing on the bed, I think as I unclench my hands, would have been worse, given that one kiss could make me feel so completely lost and confused. It's difficult seeing her so close and still feeling that she's just beyond my reach.

XXX

I have too much information to send by Patronus and it's a risk using owls: not least because if any one catches them they usually end up in what passes for the camp stew. It's Minerva that meets me in the Hog's Head. She's sitting stiffly at a table with a Gillywater when I sidle in expecting that at any moment someone is going to recognise exactly what I am and start throwing stones.

She softens instantly when she sees me, and I give her what has come to pass for a smile these days.

"How are the Montgomerys?" I ask.

"Coping," she replies, "it's not your fault." She puts a hand on mine, and I start slightly at the human contact, "you couldn't have stopped it."

I've been telling myself the same thing, but I'm not sure if it's couldn't or wouldn't. Normally if I get the information I can pass it on and the Order hides the family. This time it feels like I found things out just slightly too late, that I was given no choice but to try and stop it myself, and they were waiting for me. Of course it could all be passed off as circumstantial, or it could not. I've already made up my mind not to tell anyone about that. Instead I tell her that Greyback has been spending more time away from the camp, that I've heard him mention Hogwarts.

There's a clatter of a chair falling over, and I look up quickly.

"Don't fidget," Minerva says, "she's not here."

"Who?" I ask automatically.

My nonchalance is rewarded with a look I haven't seen since I was seventeen. The sort I used to get when she'd put 'could do better' on my homework.

"Don't be an idiot, Mr Lupin."

"Minerva," I try to remind myself that we are both adults now. "I have already been lectured by Molly about this," and Aberforth, but perhaps more bizarrely Snape, "and it doesn't change anything."

She lets out a superior snort. "I understand your reasons, I just can't say I agree with them, and neither does she. She is a mess Remus."

"You've seen her?" I'm suddenly desperate for knowledge of her, even if it's negative.

"She came to the Castle looking for Dumbledore, he wasn't there so she ended up talking to me."

She purses her lips at me, drawing out the silence.

"And?" I ask cautiously.

"And I completely agree that you are a noble twit, a complete prat, a selfless moron and a thoughtless nargle brained idiot."

She says it all completely dead pan and I can feel the rising heat in my face.

"I do not, however, believe that she would be better off if you were dead in a ditch somewhere."

"She thought I was dead?"

"I'm not sure she knew what she thought. She heard someone had been attacked by werewolves, and was naturally upset. Fortunately when she left my office she was more worried about making an idiot of herself in front of Harry."

"The tea and Ginger Newt treatment?"

"Don't waste your sarcasm on me, Mr Lupin. I value what you are doing for the Order, we all do, but you don't have to sacrifice everything you value for us. And don't sulk."

I uncross my arms out of habit.

"Continue to watch Greyback, if he does have plans for Hogwarts we will need to know about them."

XXX

"I don't care. I've told you a million times."

The students are all in bed, and everybody else seems to have vanished. The hectic movement of the last five hours has dissipated leaving an empty hole where more personal things have to be confronted and dealt with. Even so, instead of talking to her I'm sat at top the of Gryffindor Tower thinking about talking to her, and thinking that I really shouldn't be obsessing over this because Dumbledore is really gone, and he really should be getting more attention from me right now. I definitely shouldn't be thinking that Sirius used to bring girls up here.

"Oh bugger," she bangs her head on the trap door as she climbs out. I close my eyes leaning my head forward over my hands, and hoping that she won't notice me.

She does, and I can feel her approach before she puts a cup of tea down on the wall next to me. I notice that the cup is half empty; the contents probably sloped over carpets on the way here.

"Hello, Tonks." I sigh.

"Wotcher," I can feel her gaze on me, and I jump slightly as she pushes my fringe back to see the cut on my forehead. "Still fresh from the fight huh?" she murmurs softly.

"You can talk."

She quickly takes her hand back, using it instead to test the bruise on her cheek. "It'll be fine. Poppy had a look at it."

She twists round, resting her elbows on the parapet so she is also looking out over the rest of the Castle.

"Sorry for putting you on the spot like that," she says finally.

"How did you find me?"

"Harry still has that map."

"Please tell me you didn't ask Harry."

"No, I was worried. Hermione offered. I think you owe me an apology."

I risk opening my eyes, and see she's picking at the mortar, her head tilted back so she can stare at the sky. I try not to notice the curve of her neck, or the fact that her eyes are slightly puffy. I made them like that, again.

"I'm sorry for being a nargle brained idiot," I say.

She looks at me curiously. "I meant about asking Harry, but that's a good start anyway."

"Thank you, for the tea."

"You're welcome, but I'm not leaving, not until I know it's worked."

"Have you poisoned it?"

"No, the crying and shouting? Making a complete idiot out of myself in front of everyone. Did it work? Make you any more inclined to see sense?"

I don't answer and take my tea. I can feel the hurt in her silence.

"It's true," she says it so quietly that I barely hear it, "I don't care. I do love you."

I think this is the first time I have ever really believed it. Which makes me an unspeakable git if women have to go through the year she just has to prove themselves to me. But then, I've never asked them to before, never asked her to, and never expected her to. I wanted her to forget about me. Although, if I'm honest, I am amazingly glad that she hasn't. Everything is different now. This time I manage to come through for her.

"I love you too, Nymphadora."

She looks at me with something like shock and then snaps: "it's Tonks," before proceeding to burst out laughing.

"Sorry, sorry," she splutters, "you just took me by surprise, and I've waited so long to hear you say it, and I didn't really think you would. I can't believe that is all I could think of to say". She's crying as well now, wiping her eyes and trying desperately not to hiccough.

I actually start to smile, which makes her smile, and the hiccoughing gets worse. I've tried to do the right thing and failed, tried to save her, but I'm beginning to realise that all this time she's been the one waiting to save me. For the first time in a long while I know just how badly I want to go on living, and now I've accepted that I finally manage to sweep her off her feet.

A/N: Don't think this is completely cannon, but hope you liked anyway. If you spot any of the incredibly butchered lyrics they're from Bonnie Tyler's Holding out for a Hero.