A/N: Sigh. I hate this story. I want to kill it for a number of reasons. It won't flow! And I feel like I've really shoehorned this story to work with this song…and I'm just in half a mind to not post this story because I don't want tomatoes thrown at me ("Jolie, what happened to you?!" the townsfolk cried) ( ah well. On the plus side, this was my first time delving into the happy wonderfulness that is Tonks/Remus. I need to write them more and get more practice. :P

Of Embers and Moonlight

O Fortuna - O Fortune,

velut luna - like the moon

statu variabilis, - you are changeable,

semper crescis - ever waxing

aut decrescis; - and waning;

vita detestabilis - hateful life

nunc obdurat - first oppresses

et tunc curat - and then soothes

ludo mentis aciem, - as fancy takes it;

egestatem, - poverty

potestatem - and power

dissolvit ut glaciem. - it melts them like ice.

Remus Lupin pointed his wand at the rows of bookshelves in his living room. "Evanesco" he muttered, and suddenly the bookshelves vanished. He sighed and turned around to survey the room. It was empty save for a worn out sofa that honestly wouldn't have looked any worse than it already did if it had gotten a few scratches and tears. A fire was going in the fireplace, but it was slowly dying out. Remus was always a bit wary about keeping a fire during a full moon. He couldn't really afford to have his cottage burned down in case Remus the werewolf got bored of clawing, chewing and howling. But then, fire had a tendency to keep the nastiest of beasts in check. They were creatures of the night, they were, and the hot flames cracked like a whip over them, beating them into submission, keeping them at a distance. It was settled then. He'd let the fire die out on its own.

Living room, check. Kitchen, check. Bedroom, check. Bathroom, check. Books, papers, clothes, and all other things bitable were hidden away. There was nothing to do now but wait.

Remus took a seat on the sofa, extending his legs out in front of him across the bare wooden floor, ignoring the dust that had gathered on soles of his feet as they pressed against the dirty floor. He had been away for some time, staying underground with his fellow werewolves, and therefore had little time to do housekeeping. He would have time now though, after the full moon. He had been at Hogwarts the last few days, a memory that still gave him chills. He had left that place three years earlier, thinking he would never step foot in that castle again. His lycanthropy had become a public affair and so he had resigned from his post. Remus remembered feeling bitter towards colleague Severus Snape for ratting him out, yet heartily ashamed at his own naïveté at the same time. A long term, full-time, respectable job in the wizarding world. Unwittingly joking himself. But then he had returned to that very place just a few days ago, only to leave again on an even more somber note.

Hogwarts was no longer safe. An attack had actually happened inside the school. And Remus had seen Fenrir Greyback. It was from a distance and only for a brief moment. Remus had just stunned the death eater with whom he was dueling, and had looked up to see another death eater several yards ahead of him removing his mask as he moved towards a staggering Bill Weasley.

"I'm absolutely famished!" he had declared with a grin, giving Bill a great shove to the floor. Magic was beneath this man.

Normally it was an instinct to run to Bill's aid. Draw out his wand and stun Greyback. Flip him over. Do something. Yet he froze as he watched the infamous werewolf advance towards an already injured Bill. Remus's eyes were glued to his features—his mouth twisted with mirth, his eyes full of greed, hunger and even lust. It had been his first time seeing Greyback…in his human form anyway.

So that was what his attacker normally looked like, Remus had thought hours later as he had sat silently in the hospital wing in a seat next to the unconscious Bill Weasley. And it was a thought that continued to return to him, even now as he waited for the full moon to come. Fenrir Greyback finally had a face (other than his wolfish one) to go with his name in Remus's mind. He was no longer a fuzzy memory who seemed to live in another world away from Remus. He was real now, and even more monstrous of a being as a human than he was as a werewolf.

Sors immanis - Fate - monstrous

et inanis, - and empty,

rota tu volubilis, - you whirling wheel,

status malus, - you are malevolent,

vana salus - well-being is vain

semper dissolubilis, - and always fades to nothing,

obumbrata - shadowed

et velata - and veiled

michi quoque niteris; - you plague me too;

nunc per ludum - now through the game

dorsum nudum - I bring my bare back

fero tui sceleris. - to your villainy.

The sun had already begun to set, its light fading through the lone window in Remus's living room. He took no notice though. He was still thinking of Hogwarts. It would never be the same again. Unprecedented violence had erupted in that school, and a most beloved headmaster had been murdered on its grounds.

Staring blankly into the diminishing fire, Remus sighed. He would never see Dumbledore again. The wonderful, beautiful man who was a safety net to all those who believed in him was gone forever. And Severus—Snape—Snivellus, Remus thought bitterly, had done it. In all his life, Remus had never considered using the nickname on his former schoolmate—it was mean and immature, as he always told Sirius and James—but now the name gave him a small cathartic rush. He had made them all believe that he was on their side, fighting against Voldemort, protecting Harry in his own strange, mysterious way. None of them had seen it coming. Well, except Sirius, perhaps. He had always made his doubts about Snape's loyalties known, though often coated with quips and humorous embellishments so as to prevent any of them from ever really taking him seriously. But that was neither here nor there. Snape had fooled them. He had fooled Dumbledore.

Sors salutis - Fate is against me

et virtutis - in health

michi nunc contraria, - and virtue,

est affectus - driven on

et defectus - and weighted down,

semper in angaria. - always enslaved.

Remus was faintly aware of the darkness overtaking his living room. Daylight was quickly disappearing from the sky and soon only the meager glow from the fireplace was left to keep him from wallowing in total darkness. Not that he was concerned much with being left in the dark. In a matter of minutes the only light that could guide him was that of the moon.

"Loony Loopy Lupin," as Peeves used to say during his tenure at Hogwarts. There certainly was some truth to that, Remus thought as he smiled ruefully into the darkness. Loony indeed. How etymology liked to have its joke. Mocking him as he took himself to be a lunatic in the literal sense. Affected with periodic insanity, dependent on the changes of the moon. That was him, alright. Periodically insane, usually under the influence of the full moon. Not that he was complaining or anything. It was his lot in life, and he had come to accept his disease. He just never expected anyone else to indulge him with that level of tolerance.

But then Tonks had come along.

She dared to love him, and he still couldn't understand it. She was lovely and young, unique in every possible way, yet she chose an old, broken man like him. He didn't deserve her; she was worthy of so much more, of things he could never give her, yet she chose to pursue him anyway.

"I don't care!" she had said to him repeatedly. And she really didn't, Remus knew that much. Well, of course she didn't care. She was young, after all. Always sure of what they wanted, but completely clueless of what was actually good for them. And Remus wasn't it, as much as he wished to be. Admittedly, he cared for her, but only in a perfect world could love be sufficient fuel for a relationship. Their world was far from perfect though, and he had little else to offer her.

He was acutely aware of the sudden increased pace of his breathing. He lifted his eyelids to view the window where he saw the orb-like outline of the moon. Almost indifferently, he dropped his gaze back to the fire. It was nearly out. Bits of hot embers glowed amongst the charred firewood. He had a vague idea to rekindle the fire so he'd have something to keep him warm through the night, but the thought slipped away with the rest of his humanity as his body began writhing in pain.

He let out a whimper as he felt himself—the man who had struggled to endure his own being—growing fainter and fainter. The pain he could deal with. The long snout and the tail he could deal with; losing himself was not. Losing that struggle against himself…to accept himself, to accept Tonks's love…it was unfathomable, yet a reality as he lost himself to with a single decisive howl at the full moon.

Hac in hora - So at this hour

sine mora - without delay

corde pulsum tangite; - pluck the vibrating strings;

quod per sortem - since Fate

sternit fortem, - strikes down the string man,

mecum omnes plangite! – every one weep with me!

"O Fortuna" from Carmina Burana, by Carl Orff.