Tonks studied her arm carefully, wincing at the deep scar that ruined her otherwise healthy skin. She vaguely wondered if she should get it looked at but decided against it. What was the point? They'd just tell her to apply some cream that made her itch on it. Then they might see her hair, or the bags under her eyes or her life-less expression and tell her she needed therapy. Her mousy brown hair had made everyone think so these days. They worried for her health, which was fine. It was her heart that needed treatment.
It was foreign and rather cliché feeling to her. To be broken hearted- to have her heart ripped in two, But this wasn't your typical romance. Do typical romances involve intelligent, booky werewolves and clumsy, Auror metamorphagi? Then again, she couldn't call it a romance. Former romance was a more fitting term.
Tonks clenched her eyes closed and shut her brain down; something she had been doing every since she got the scar, which un-coincidently was the night Remus left. When she got to thinking about that night, she would either replay the big, harmless Werewolf accidentally scratching her arm or she would scream her heart out into her pillow and then scream at herself for letting it get this bad; to when every time she was around something glass she thought about breaking it, taking one of the pieces and slitting her wrist. She pretended to feel the warm blood spilling down her arm as she closed her eyes one last time; then she reminded herself to stay strong. Only because of her will to get rid of Voldemort. To get him the hell away from everyone she loved.
Including Remus Lupin, despite the fact there were times when she hated him, not caring if at the next full moon something horrible should happen. Then there where times when she'd give her left arm for him to come back. Both of those feelings happened about twice a day and after each she'd break down and allow herself a good cry, bugger where she happened to be at the moment. She sobbed at home, at work, at the Burrow… anywhere was a good place to unleash her tears.
Tonks begged her brain to understand it wasn't her fault; but every time she did she found fault with her past relationships. Stuff she shouldn't have done, or things she should've done. When she confided this to Molly, when she gushed over how inadequate she felt, all she got was a sympathetic pat on the arm and a plea to move on: to consider Charlie, Bill or some nice bloke from the Ministry. The mousy-brown haired witch refused. She wanted only one wizard, and would not be happy with any other.
Perhaps the worst part was knowing that it would never end. He'd never come back. The depression would never leave. She'd live the rest of her life alone and without Remus John Lupin. Just the thought of his name sent her to tears.
This was not the way it was supposed to be. She was not Tonks anymore. She was not the punk rock Auror she used to be. Now she was Nymphadora. Plain, mousy, normal, quiet, broken-hearted Nymphadora.