A/N: this is simply a study of the thoughts of our beloved Tonks after splitting with Remus. It takes place at the same time as book 6, and is thus a spoiler for that book, but nothing in it implies any non-cannon plot line. I essentially just sat down and poured out what I believe she would have been feeling in her little time of depression post break-up in a pure stream of consciousness setting. Reviews are welcome.
Alone in the dark room she sat, staring at nothing, losing herself in the quiet. A lonely waterfall in the middle of a desert of fallen trees, she had come to feel almost comfortable in her pathetic state—almost. She had been all alone for three and a half weeks, and that nauseous feeling had at least decided to become slightly less consistent. By this point in time, that innocent spiritual imbalance would disappear from time to time, being rekindled by the striking of a chord or the recognition of a place or face that might spark a memory. It had become impossible for her to distinguish between happiness and that familiar sense of angry sorrow; it all felt the same now: a sense of lonely reminiscence with an undercurrent of emotional unrest. It had all been to logical— a sensible parting for all the right reasons, and without any argument or protestation from either party. At the time she had truly meant it when she had affirmed her agreement with the termination, stating that she was not at all hurt and whole heartedly confirming that she would be perfectly alright—now she knew better. She was no longer "his", and although she had not been such for very long, it had apparently been enough to get her hooked, and in missing she was lost in turmoil. She had no desire to miss him so; she wanted to be OK. She had started it out with a very noncommittal state of mind, determined to have fun for a while and then let it all go when he was relocated the following year. Unfortunately, in losing him in such an unexpected and untimely fashion, she had somehow stumbled into unwelcome despair. Perhaps it was the fact that she had to see him every day; she no longer knew how to act with him, being afraid of seeming over attentive in their separation, but wanting horribly to be around him, to continue the fun that she had grown to identify with him in their union. Perhaps it was the fact that all the jealousy that she had been spared in their companionship had been funneled into its aftermath several times over. Or perhaps it was that unnecessary uncertainty as to the to truth in his previously listed reasons for departure; she knew all over that this was utterly unwarranted, but with separation had come a confluence of "alone time", and her imagination had ruined all of her ideal scenarios. Whatever the reason, she was lost in conflict. When around him, she would initially react with despair: an overwhelming desire to seem pathetic, a useless hope that he would feel remorseful and call for reunion. But then she would find her embarrassment and begin to wonder if she really wanted him back. It scared her how much she needed him. Did she just need someone to save her from herself? Did it really have to be him?
Yes.