There was only one way Tonks planned to leave when this whole thing was over, and it wasn't in a body bag. She was going to walk out of Hogwarts when the fighting was done, head held high, hand intertwined with her husband's. Remus was her husband now, Lupin her surname, and they were happy. Hell, they even had a little ankle-biter waiting back at her mother's house. Fingers wrapped tightly around her wand, Tonks had no intention of returning in any way, shape, or form other than her current living, breathing state.
However, the moment her lips left Remus's as they separated for combat, some negative voice kicked to life in the back of her mind. What if she didn't come back alive? It was preposterous, she chided herself, but was it? Great witches and wizards had fallen already. James and Lily long ago. Sirius so recently it still hurt. Dumbledore. What made her impervious to damage, immune to death? What made her better than them?
The answer: nothing, because she wasn't.
Tonks really had no way to know how, if at all, she would leave the battlefield that used to be a school, her school, her favorite place. It hadn't been too terribly long since she was a student, less than ten years, but so much had changed. Dumbledore was gone. Nothing, she knew, could last forever, but Hogwarts seemed different, untouchable. That was before. It was nothing like what it had been now, a place of death rather than life.
Summoning all of her courage, the former Hufflepuff charged into the fray, not wanting to die but able to accept what would come. Hell yes she was afraid-actually terrified at this point-but this was more bigger than herself. A better world for Teddy, right? Wasn't that the whole point? Well, yes, that and defeating Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but that could happen without her. She was fighting for Teddy.
Of course, there was another reason, one much more selfish. Half of her disowned, unknown family members were Death Eaters. "Uncle" Lucius. "Aunt" Bellatrix. Ha, like those were family. She shared their blood, but they'd scorned her since before she was born just because her father wasn't a pureblood. Tonks wanted-no, needed-to show them she was worth something, something more than they were because while she hadn't had the fortune the Black family otherwise would have provided for her, she grew up loved. How many of them could say that, really?
Had Lucius or Bellatrix or Narcissa or any of those disgusting relatives of hers been loved? Had they been picked up when they scraped their knee, given a band-aid and made a "miraculous" recovery? Had they been tucked into their bed so tightly they couldn't move, smothered with kisses before their light was flicked off? Had their parents ever once said to them those three little words that mean the world to a child? What's more, had their parents felt those words in regards to them? It was unlikely at best.
The Blacks must have thought, in disowning her mother that it would make her suffer, but in reality, Andromeda was happier than ever, freer than in her wildest dreams. She could be herself, and she definitely raised Tonks to be the same. The (often) pink-haired woman was unique because she had no one to impress, strong because she had no one to fear.
Now she was grown, married, and a mother. She knew they had been making a mockery of her mother and herself all of those years, secretly vulnerable to them because they weren't there to defend themselves, and none of them would ever speak positively. Their tongues had to have been burned with blisters from their sour words. This battle, she recognized instantly, was her change to show them how much she was worth, that her halfblood status made her no less a witch-and no less a Black-than any of them.
Her eyes were met with horror as she saw witches and wizards, friends and foes, crumpling one by one in the grass. The merciless quality striking in not only the Death Eaters' attacks but the Order members', the good guys', was almost surreal. The anguished cries for mercy that were nearly always ignored convinced her momentarily that her ears were bleeding, and she had to hold a hand up to one to see that this was not the case.
A wand jabbed her in the back, imploring her to turn around. Tonks knew who it was before she even thought to turn, the mangled cackle too distinct to be confused. "Why, look," said the all too familiar voice, poking her shoulder blade roughly. "It's little Andi's precious product of her filthy marriage." She could feel hot breath on her neck, sense the body just far enough behind her to point the wand, and a shiver ran down her spine.
Tonks was afraid to face her now that the moment had come, and maybe if she ignored the haunting voice, she would just leave her alone. It was a childlike fantasy, however, and this would never happen. "Why don't you face your dear, sweet, old auntie?" the voice inquired. "Auntie's certainly missed a few birthdays, hasn't she? Oh, yes, and some other events too." The niece cringed as her aunt began to list. "A graduation… A job as an Auror… Joining the Order of the Phoenix…A wedding… A child…."
Hot tears strung the corners of her eyes, but Tonks was not about to cry. Tears were weakness, especially in the eyes of this monster who was pretending to care, just to play with her mind. She remained facing the direction she was, the wand in her shoulder blade beginning to hurt. She noted with some care how the fighting that had engulfed her went on carelessly around them, as if stepping in would be taboo. Of course her comrades would think so. She had proclaimed numerously how she wanted to be the one to kill Bellatrix. Now that she had the chance, everyone was keeping their distance, ignoring the abnormal conflict as they ignored an average duel.
"Face me, why don't you, dear? You're a brave little thing, aren't you?" The way she spoke was as if she was speaking to a child, the child she had never gotten-nor wanted-to see Tonks as. It was condescending and infuriating, but her feet did not spin. "Didn't you hear me?" said Bellatrix innocently before her voice turned hoarse and enraged. "Turn!"
Slowly Tonks rotated to face her, the wand no longer stabbing into her back but using its ability, coupled with its master's hatred, to force the turn. It was not of the younger woman's own free will but Bellatrix's Unforgivable influence. "There we are," the Death Eater smiled sweetly, face-to-face with her sister's daughter. "How lovely. My, you've grown up well."
Tonks's right hand tightened its grip on her wand, the only motion she was currently able to make, and only that by the sheer force of her free will, preparing for the duel that would, no doubt, come shortly. Without warning, Bellatrix broke her Imperius Curse, offering a moment later the explanation, "We are going to duel, Nymphadora. We are going to duel, and you are going to die."
Her face distorted as she leaped forward, Tonks barely having the time and reflexes to both block the hex flying at her and step back. She tried to remain on the defensive side, only sending back her own curse of spell when absolutely necessary. As much as she loathed the other woman, as much as she wanted to kill her, Tonks knew she never could. At one point, her aunt and her mother had been friendly, the closest sisters, it was rumored, in the complex society of Purebloods. It would never escape her conscience, no matter how she justified it, if she was the one who ended Bellatrix's life.
Bellatrix had a very peculiar dueling style. It combined many lunges, curses, and other aspects as it seemed possible. Tonks was fairly certain at one point that she felt teeth gnaw into the flesh on her left arm. However, as unusual as the elder woman fought, her niece was similar in motion. A wand thrust forward, followed by a leap to the left. A wand-led lunge coupled with a evasion. Occasionally jumping straight over the spell being hurled at the person. An observer would know in an instant that the two were related.
It was begrudgingly impressive at how limber Bellatrix was. She could dodge and jump like a woman twenty years her junior. However, Tonks had no intention of losing now, not after the flagrant hatred directed towards her and her mother, let alone her now-late father who had always been judged for just being Muggle. No, she had to win. She had to win.
She didn't win.
Her eyes widened when she realized it was all over, a flash of green coming at her fast. Without thinking, she bent backwards, just under the beam of death, then shot back to the ground when it had passed. Bellatrix loomed over her niece's unmoving form, noticing with less satisfaction than intended that there did not seem to be a pulse. "Nymphadora," she spoke tenderly and very much unlike herself, "I.. Your mother…" Words unable to form in her pouty, trembling lips, she rushed off, not knowing that the direction in which she rushed held Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, the latter's mother, and ultimately her death.
All was still on those few feet of grass, bare of all but Tonks. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open as she let her chest rise with the intake of oxygen as it would have if she had not been faking her death. She had no idea what possessed her to bend beneath the curse and feign the post-fatality fall, nor did she know what had told her that Bellatrix's next step would be the Killing Curse. Something in her bones had just shook and taken over. She had never been good at Seeing, but she had clearly seen something. She had never been graceful, but her fall had been perfection.
Something weighted heavily on her heart, despite her joy for life. What had Bellatrix been trying to articulate over her "dead" body? Whatever she had been attempting to express, she was clearly feeling…remorse.
Remorse? Was that even possible? Tonks had thought her slight hesitance in regards to her aunt was hers, unaware the feeling was mutual. It seemed Bellatrix had not truly wanted to kill her, rather she had to. How strange, Tonks mused, how she had wanted to kill but could not, the complete opposite to the Death Eater's situation.
Sitting on the ground, not yet ready to stand, the mother of one observed just how absorbed both sides were in their duels. The sinister significance of it all sank in, and as she weakly pulled herself to her feet, she wished she could swear off violence altogether, but being trained as an Auror, combat was what she knew best, if not the only thing.
She tried to take a few steps but stumbled, a stab of pain shooting up her left leg in protest whenever she distributed any weight onto it. Grimacing, she glanced down at the offending limb. It did not appear damaged, but groping different sections in search of injury told another tale. Her hip was almost certainly shattered, and she was pretty sure her ankle was fractured at best. Tonks supposed her "death" hadn't been quite so graceful, after all.
Forcing herself forward as just standing in the middle of a bloody battlefield would be a bad decision, Tonks ignored the piercing pain and limped off as fast as possible. It wasn't that bad, anyway. She'd been through worse, such as giving birth. Seriously, a person didn't know pain until they knew what child birth was like. After that, all physical hurt paled in comparison.
Tonks hobbled towards the castle, a safe point. However, what caught her eye stopped her. She could see the back of the woman who just "murdered" her, Bellatrix, and the front of the redhead dueling her, Molly Weasley. Tonks couldn't help but gasp, then watch in awe when her aunt crumbled. Molly looked royally pissed, which could only mean Bellatrix made the mistake of messing with her daughter. Maybe Tonks would be sad about it later, but now was not the time. She was not safe out here, and crying would only make her a better target.
Eventually she made it inside the castle. She wasn't going to complain about her injuries because there were many more scattered in what used to be the Great Hall who were in far worse shape than her. For example, that guy with the sandy brown hair and scars laying on that table a ways away from her who looked dead. Actually, he looked very familiar.
Shit. That's Remus!
All of her pain and leg difficulty eradicated from her mind, Tonks practically ran across the Hall to her defeated-looking husband. Tears silently exploded, and she flung herself over him, sobbing into his chest. She was so occupied that she did not even notice the Weasley family bring Fred in and lay him near Remus. She could not hear Molly's sobs because her own drowned out the pitiful noise.
She couldn't believe it. Her Remus was gone. He was her everything, Teddy's father. And oh, Teddy! He would never get to feel invincible with the band-aid his father placed on his scraped knee. He would never get to find out what it's like to be tucked into bed so tightly he couldn't move, nor would he know the wonder of his father's kisses before the light went out. Most importantly, he could never feel his father's love. Of course Remus loved Teddy-he died for him, for Merlin's sake!-but Teddy would never experience it.
Shaking with sobs, she buried her wet face into Remus's chest. It wasn't fair. Her husband had never done anything wrong, but life had afflicted him with so much; lycanthropy, watching his best friends die, and at last, death himself. Remus was so smart, had so much promise. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be.
When his eyes opened slowly, they instantly fell on the beautiful young woman, his wife, crying on his chest. Smiling weakly through the obvious pain and discomfort left over from whatever had happened to him during the fray, he spoke quietly, "Dora, it's difficult to breathe with you on my chest. Now why are you crying?"
Nymphadora's head shot up at the sound of his voice, and a smile slowly crept onto her lips as he kept speaking. "O-oh, right," she babbled before leaning back into the chair she didn't even recall collapsing into. His large hand wrapped around her small one, and his smile strengthened.
Miraculously, they both made it in one piece-more or less. With help from Healers, both were almost as good as new. Tonks's leg was easy enough to heal. Remus's internal damage took a bit more work, and while some parts of his organs never healed, he was all right.
They'd been granted more than one miracle.
They had a chance for happily ever after, as cliché as it was and as lividly as Tonks refused to use the phrase.