There truly is nothing worse than waiting for a letter that you know will never come.
He had watched that mailbox for days after hearing the rumours, and following her only to discover they were true. That she was engaged and getting married.
He'd known this day would come eventually. The day she grew up and got on with life. He'd hoped it could have been with him, even though he knew they could never work. They'd tried and failed; they were jigsaw pieces from different puzzles, never made to fit.
He'd known she would never settle down with him; but he'd never expected her to settle down with a werewolf either. Especially one thirteen years her senior.
Scabior knew there was nothing he could do. She was stubborn, and never changed her mind once she made it up. But that wasn't going to stop him from trying, if only to make sense of it all. It just seemed so un-Tonks, marrying someone not only a werewolf, but a teacher. Someone quiet and into books. He was never the sort of man she would have gone for when he knew her.
At least, he thought he'd known her.
Over, the years, he had become an expert wallflower. He watched; he observed, and he could do it all without being seen. So he watched and waited, sitting away the silent hours until she was alone in the house.
The front door seemed as good an option as any, and so he knocked smartly four times.
She looked like she wanted to slam the door shut in his face when she saw him on her doorstep, but he held it fast.
"I just came to talk. That's all."
She ran a hand through her dark violet hair, sighing. "Fine." She stepped aside, looking anywhere that wasn't him. He'd expected this.
Neither of them had been happy with the way they had left things; arguments never resolved, insults never apologised for. She'd moved on.
He hadn't. And he knew he never really would.
"I hear your getting married in a few weeks." He twisted his scarf through his fingers, his eyes roaming her body. She hadn't changed that much since they'd last seen one another.
She shrugged. "I am. Some rumours are true."
"Is it also true he's a werewolf?" he couldn't keep the hatred out of his tone, and she noticed, her eyes flashing red, only for a second.
"Yes." She replied coldly. "Not," she added, "that it's any of your business who I marry."
He didn't answer. He just starred at her. He was going to lose her.
"I never forgot you."
Her gaze softened, and she looked away, hugging herself. "I never forgot you either. But... we both know I used you, and it wasn't right. I had to move on." She looked back up at him. "I'm sorry."
He snorted. "No need to apologize. It's not like you ruined my life or anything."
"Don't. Don't try and guilt me. You were the one who said-"
"It doesn't matter anymore, does it?" his voice was raised, strained. He sighed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his plaid trousers. "You're moving on, like you said. Congratulations."
He could tell she wanted to apologize again. He didn't want to hear it.
"So am I invited?"
"I don't think that would be the best idea, Scabior." She gave him a sad smile. "Look... I love Remus, I really do. I loved you once... but things changed. And I don't want to bring up my past on my wedding day."
He shrugged, trying to pretend he didn't care. "Didn't expect you to say yes, anyway."
"Then why did you ask?"
"In case my dashingly good looks made you change your mind."
She laughed. God, he loved her laugh. He'd missed her laugh. It was never this beautiful in his head, in his memories.
"No can do. Sorry."
He shrugged again. There didn't seem to be anything else to say.
"Remus should be home soon."
She wanted him to leave.
"Right. Well, again... congratulations. I hope you'll be happy."
She sighed. "So do I. Goodbye, Scabior."
He'd never hear her say his name again. He knew that for certain.
"Goodbye... Nymphadora."
She didn't say anything. She just watched him leave.
He knew then she still loved him.
When the day came, Scabior was glad they had chosen an outdoor wedding. They were in a field, with marquees and mismatched fold-out chairs. From his park bench on the hill above, he could see everything, as long as he used his omnoculars. He could see her walking down the aisle, her hair its natural brown, curling over her shoulders, with a small chain of flowers placed atop. He could see her short white dress blow in the wind, could see her purple converse. He could see her smile.
He could see her say "I do" and kiss that disgusting werewolf. What a pathetic excuse for a husband.
He could feel his heart break inside, and he knew things could never be the same again. He would never be the same.
He'd never be able to have her. Not properly, like he'd wanted for so long. Not all of her.
Because as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, that bloody werewolf would be good for her. As long as he didn't leave her, or rip her to pieces or maim her, or god forbid, bite her.
If he did any of those, (particularly the last one) Lupin was going to be in big trouble.
He hoped she was happy, he genuinely did. He'd never be happy again, so she had to be happy enough for the both of them.