And?
"And that's why there can be absolutely no kind of romantic involvement between us whatsoever," Remus Lupin concluded with an air of triumph. He managed to retain his confidence for all of two seconds before dropping his face into his hands and groaning. "What is the point?" he moaned, his head still in his hands; his confidence had vanished as quickly as a disapparating wizard.
Remus moved his hands aside so that he was peering through splayed fingers. In the mirror, he saw a wreck of a man looking back at him with all the cowardice of a child. "What is the point?" he repeated miserably.
Remus Lupin was renowned for his bravery. He had been a Gryffindor, was a werewolf, was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, was an Auror, for Merlin's sake—and yet he couldn't even face himself in the mirror whilst he recited, perhaps for the millionth time, the oh-so-important speech he knew he must deliver before anything got out of hand. But the truth of the situation was that, although he had faced many terrifying things in his life—the loss of loved ones, the horrifying transformation into a deadly beast at every full moon, countless duels with dark wizards and near-death escapes—he had never experienced anything so terrifying as the situation he'd suddenly found himself in.
He was in love.
And not just any kind of love—the can't-sleep, can't-eat, can't-think-of-anything-other-than-the-overwhelming-soul-crushing-pain kind of love. The one that consumes your body day and night, sending your mind into a frenzied storm of desire and confusion to a point where it is physically painful to continue. Yes, it was that kind of love. The very worst kind.
"Talking to yourself?" a voice asked brightly.
Remus started so violently that he crashed into the table, sending a shooting pain up through his leg. He felt enough pain as it was when Tonks entered the room, without his now throbbing leg adding to the displeasure.
"No," he gasped, straightening up to his full height and acting as though he wasn't in severe agony. "I was just..."
But she raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that let him know she could see straight through his lies. Remus was struggling to think of an excuse anyway. Tonks had that effect on him—an effect that clouded his rational thinking, turning him into a panicked idiot. He closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts. This was precisely why he needed to end things before they could properly develop into something.
"Tonks," Remus said in his most serious and authoritative voice, "I think we should talk."
She was beautiful that day. She was always beautiful, but that day—the day he knew he must cut her off from his life—she was more beautiful to him than ever. It had to be some cruel test of his will. He gulped at the very thought.
"Excellent!" Tonks cried in delight, bouncing over to him like an energetic puppy. "Let's talk," she said, apparently completely oblivious to the solemnity of Remus' request. She settled herself into one of the chairs, propping her heels up on the table that stretched along the length of the dining room at no. 12 Grimmauld Place. Reluctantly, Remus followed and sat down beside her;his whole body was tensed.
On that day, her hair was relatively ordinary. Though in all honesty, Remus knew Tonks could never be remotely ordinary. Oh, no, she was simply far too extraordinary. But anyhow, her hair was not the bright red curls or the bubble-gum pink pixie cut that he often saw her sporting, but was simply (but elegantly) long and wavy and an unadorned brunette colour. It suited her, he thought miserably. The plain colour and style brought out the colour in her cheeks, the soft definition of her button nose, and the endless pools of midnight blue that her eyes happened to be that morning. This was going to be harder than he thought.
"Tonks," Remus said carefully, but the words got caught in his throat and he felt too distracted. Countless times he had practised—countless times! And for what?
For hours he had looked himself in the eye with as hard and authoritative a look as he could muster, calmly relaying the news that, although he was very much fond of her, the relationship they shared could develop no further than the close friendship he felt they had. It was one thing to talk to yourself in the mirror, but a completely different thing to be faced with the very real, very beautiful being that was Nymphadora Tonks.
"Tonks," Remus tried again, desperately trying to ignore how distracting she was when she batted her eyelashes, and how uncomfortable he was just by being so close to her when he simply knew he had to terminate any and all romantic connection between them. She cocked her head inquisitively, a broad grin on her face.
"I—we—I'm very—we've grown very close and I'm very fond of you," Remus blurted out, only to immediately scowl at his rash confession. That's not what he'd meant to say. Oh, Merlin, why was this so difficult?
"I suppose we have," Tonks said, somewhat coy. "Grown very close, that is."
"Right," Remus said uncertainly, positive he'd get it right this time. "Well, the thing is..." He trailed off embarrassedly.
It had been so easy talking to himself, but now Remus was seriously worried. He was very aware of the feelings he felt for Tonks, and though he had been in constant denial for a fair few months, he had finally been forced to admit to himself that, no matter how much he tried to hide it, even from himself, the honest truth was that he was undeniably and irrevocably in love with her. He hadn't even considered how she might have felt for him.
Had Remus deluded himself into thinking they had some kind of silent thing going on? Tonks was teasing and outspoken with everybody—who was he to assume her boisterous attitude had been nothing but cheerful politeness, and not actually the flirting he thought had been occurring? He was suddenly gripped with fear. He'd made a horrible mistake!
Just supposing Tonks was not in the slightest bit interested in him in the way he was hopelessly besotted with her, how would she then react when he randomly announced there could be no relationship between them? What if he had misread the signs? She would look at him in horror, in disgust, in disbelief!
Remus absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the table, tapping out a nervous rhythm. Tonks stared at him pointedly until he realised what he was doing and stopped. After about half a minute of continued staring, he realised he had been in the middle of saying something and she was still patiently waiting for the rest of his response.
"Oh, right!" Remus exclaimed, placing his hands in his lap so he couldn't tap the table. Bad mistake, he decided, as his leg started shaking uncontrollably instead. He needed an outlet for his nervous energy.
Hastily wiping his hands down his trousers beneath the table in an attempt to rid them of the sweat that had accumulated, Remus took a deep breath and looked Tonks straight in the eye. Those beautiful, enchanting eyes...
His heart was tight in his chest. She looked so young.
"I'm very old," Remus burst out without warning. Tonks looked at him with mild alarm. "I'm… I'm a lot old—older," he corrected, "than you."
Tonks just stared at him, a blank expression on her face. "And?"
Remus racked his brain. Where exactly was he going with this? All those hours he'd spent practising—gone out the window without a moment's notice!
"And... that's why there can be absolutely no kind of romantic involvement between us whatsoever," Remus concluded triumphantly. This time, he managed to retain his air of confidence for all of one second before realising exactly what he'd just said. His face drained of all possible colour, leaving him a disturbingly, ghostly white, and with a look of such alarm that, had anybody walked in right then, they may have assumed he was petrified.
What had he done? What had he done?
Remus began to panic internally. That was the conclusion of his speech—he hadn't even told her he loved her. He hadn't even told her why there could be no romantic involvement! Oh, no, he had simply informed her of his age. He had ruined everything. And he couldn't go back now. It was said. It was done.
Remus awaited her reaction in nervous anticipation. He and Tonks had never shared any romance. They had never openly talked about their relationship or their feelings for each other—assuming she actually did have feelings for him, and it wasn't just one-sided. They had never kissed or so much as held hands. And there he was, condemning any possible involvement before they'd even had any proper involvement.
Tonks began to laugh. It was a laugh Remus loved—light and warm and uncontrolled. It filled him with happiness when he heard her laugh like that, but now it filled him with dread. He had mentally prepared for any number of reactions. He had expected anger—if romance was the last thing on her mind when it came to him, and she was mortally offended by his refusal of her.
He had expected cheerful acceptance—if they were both in the same boat and she too had been worried about things going any further between them due to their different circumstances.
He had even expected sorrow—if she was so deeply upset by what he'd said that she was overwhelmed by emotion.
Remus didn't like to flatter himself with thoughts of the last one, though. Tonks was a clever girl, and the idea of her being as in love with him as he was with her was ridiculous.
He had not, however, expected the very reaction he had received. Laughter? Just the very notion of her being in love with somebody like him sent her into a fit of laughter! He tried not to let it get to him, but it stung like a hex.
"Tonks..." Remus was humiliated, absolutely humiliated. The colour that had been drained from his face just moments ago, now flushed into his cheeks so that he was as red as the ketchup-coloured curls she favoured on occasion. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Remus," Tonks interrupted. The laughter had disappeared, but the shadow of a smile played on her lips. "I'm not an idiot. I know you're slightly older than me, but that doesn't change anything."
Remus' heart was beating frantically. "You laughed," he accused.
At that, Tonks laughed again, just a small snort of amusement. "Yes, because for months I've been trying to let you know how I feel and try and understand how you feel, and you have been unresponsive and indecisive, and then suddenly, out of the blue, you're here and randomly telling me that—"
"Please don't repeat it," Remus groaned, dropping his head into his hands like he'd done earlier. "That isn't what I wanted to say. It wasn't how I wanted to say it at all..."
"That's okay," Tonks replied, as bright as ever. "I was getting bored waiting for you to admit it. And I didn't want to say anything in case it freaked you out too much."
"Admit what?" Remus asked.
Tonks smiled at him playfully. "That you're in love with me."
"I—wh—what?" Remus spluttered. "I didn't—I didn't say that!" He hadn't said that, had he?—he began to panic. Had he somehow, amongst the awkward declaration, accidently confessed he was hopelessly in love with her? "I'm not!" he lied furiously. No, no, no, this wasn't good at all!
Tonks was relishing in Remus' discomfort. "It doesn't matter," she said in a soothing voice. "Because I'm in love—"
"NO!" Remus leapt up from the table, backing up against the wall as though Tonks was going to attack him. "No," he said again, more calmly. "Don't say it."
He wasn't in love with her. She wasn't in love with him. That was the way it had to be. Confessions of love would only take the situation way out of hand. Confessions of love would mean there was no going back. He had to end it now.
Tonks looked upset by his violent reaction, but Remus had no choice. "I still mean what I said earlier, Tonks. Nothing can happen between us, nothing at all."
Tonks rose from the table with a face like thunder. "And why not?" she demanded, advancing on him in a threatening manner.
Now was his chance. Now was his chance to say all those things he'd rehearsed and missed out previously.
"I'm a werewolf," Remus said calmly.
"And?"
"And that means I put your life in danger. I'm a monster, Tonks, and you deserve better."
She looked at him sulkily. "That doesn't matter to me!" she insisted. "Werewolf or not, that doesn't change how I feel about you."
"Secondly," Remus said quickly, "we are on the brink of a war."
"And?"
"And," he said irritably, "that means anything could happen to either of us, and I couldn't live with myself if I had to live without you."
Something flitted into Tonks' eyes—a gentle glimmer of affection. Remus gulped. He didn't like having her so close to him. She was just inches away from him, and he felt helpless backed up against the wall like he was. She was intoxicating. She was so close to him he could very easily just bend down and kiss her...
But he wouldn't. He had to be strong and resist the power of temptation. But just suppose she kissed him? He knew he'd be powerless to stop it.
"And as I mentioned earlier," Remus recalled with an embarrassed look, "I am much older than you. Much too old to, err, be involved with you."
"And?"
"Will you stop that?" he snapped. "I'm being deadly serious here, Tonks. Nothing can happen between us—understand?"
Why couldn't Tonks treat this more seriously? And why, oh, why would she not stop looking at him with fluttering eyelashes and a flirtatious grin? It was awfully distracting and gave him the impression she wasn't really grasping what he was trying to explain to her.
"No," Tonks said furiously, with a discontented scowl, "I don't understand. You say you love me—"
"I never said that!"
"—and you know I love you—"
Remus' heart skipped a beat.
"—and yet you're trying to tell me that the only thing we can do in this situation is stay apart? I may be younger than you, but I know what I'm doing! I don't care about any of that stuff!"
"Well, you should." Remus felt like he was a teacher again, scolding Tonks for misbehaviour. Why did he feel like he was losing the battle? Why did he feel like Tonks was so stubborn she would refuse to let this go lightly? "I'm not... I'm not good for you. And I think you deserve somebody much better. Somebody your own age, who doesn't have a tendency to transform into a beast every full moon."
Tonks didn't even blink.
Remus continued. "There are plenty better men out there who would be far better suited for you," he said miserably. It would kill him to see her love another, but in the end, it would be the best thing—for both of them.
"And?" Tonks challenged again.
Remus let out a cry of frustration. She was infuriating! "Stop that, Tonks. You're acting like a child! A silly, immature child."
Remus should have known she'd put up a fight—should have known she'd be too stubborn to take no for an answer. This was going to be a nightmare, he could tell. He looked at her pleadingly, trying to demand with his eyes that she take this seriously.
Her eyes were filled with a delightful mirth. Tonks had him in the palm of her hand, and she knew it. Oh, how she knew it...
Tonks looked at Remus triumphantly, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a devilish grin stretching across her face.
"And?"
Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 2—Round 4
Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Captain
Task: Story must start and end with a conjunction (And)