"I can't."
"Why?"
Remus shakes his head. "We've been over this too many times for you not to know what I'm going to say. Do I really have to tell you again?"
"In fact, you do, and maybe you should come up with some better reasons against it, because so far, you've not been making any sense."
"Tonks . . ." His voice is soft, as are his eyes in the flickering light of the library at Grimmauld Place. It's the late afternoon, and everyone else will soon arrive for the Order meeting. "You're a lovely young woman. Any man would be very lucky to be with you."
"Any man but you, isn't that what you mean?"
"No. Me too. You're beautiful, intelligent, brave – everything I could ask for."
He means it, Tonks is sure of it, the way he's looking at her so earnestly. As an Auror, you develop a feeling for when people tell the truth, and while all his arguments against them being together are nothing but excuses, this is real.
"Then why won't you . . . We could be happy if you just gave us a chance."
"I'm sure we could be." A smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it's a sad one. "If the circumstances were different. If I were different. But as it is, I'd only make you miserable. You deserve better, believe me." He's said it more than once, with the same small, melancholy smile that makes her want to kiss it away and slap sense into him for his idiocy, both at once.
She takes a step closer, and Remus puts his hand on her shoulder. "You're a dear friend," he goes on, squeezing gently. "Let's keep it that way."
It's been months – months of her trying to get through to him and failing. She feels pathetic; she should be too proud for this. There are others, younger men who don't require to be locked into a cage once a month in order not to rip her throat out in mindless werewolf rage. Men who wouldn't need convincing for even a second, who'd try to convince her to give them a chance.
But she doesn't want any of them, and she knows that Remus would feel more for her than friendship – if only he'd let himself.
"Please, Remus, stop this. Stop trying to make a sacrifice nobody's asking for." His cheek is warm when she reaches out to touch it, her fingers slowly gliding over soft stubble on his jaw, and Remus sighs and closes his eyes.
"Tonks . . ."
"I don't care about you being older. Thirteen years is normal even with Muggle relationships. And you know I don't mind that you're a werewolf."
He turns his head into her hand, and she steps even closer, putting her other hand on his chest. "Everyone else can go to hell," she whispers as she leans in. "I don't care one bit for their opinions about whom I should love. Runs in the family, you know."
There is no answer, and just before her lips are about to touch his, she closes her eyes as well.
"Don't." Remus's hands are gripping both her shoulders now, and he gently pushes her away as he steps back. Had he waited another half second . . .
Tonks makes to protest, but Remus doesn't let her.
"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have let it come to this." Still, his voice is as calm and soft as in the beginning, and while usually, this is one of the things she loves about him, now she hates it – why can't he at least be upset that she won't let up? It's almost as if he sees a child in her, somebody with whom one needs to be careful and patient. What would it take for him to get upset? Passionate?
"I'm flattered, Tonks, and I'm grateful. But I can't. I wish you'd accept that."
"But it's not –"
"Please. Let it go. Besides, the others will be here any minute. I'll be in the kitchen."
Before she can think of anything else to say, he turns and quickly leaves the room.
When the meeting is over, Tonks is tired and frustrated – it consisted of nothing but endless discussions without result, and now her head is aching and all she wants is to go home and sleep. She'd half hoped to be able to talk to Remus afterwards, but he had immediately left the kitchen for his room, and she had been too exhausted to follow him, try to talk him into listening to her again. Instead, she'd let Molly make her drink a cup of tea and eat a few bites of a sandwich that tasted like nothing.
As she walks by on her way to the door, she sees light coming from the library, and hushed voices are audible through the slightly open door.
"Stop being a fool!" somebody snaps in barely controlled anger. She recognises Remus, and instinctively, she halts to listen.
"You are the fool, Lupin!" Snape's voice. "I'll most likely be dead before all of this is over, and even if I survived, I'd have to flee or at the very least be a persona non grata everywhere. I don't care about the opinion of those imbeciles, but you deserve something better."
"What could be better than being with the man I love?"
Tonks hastily covers her mouth with her hand so no sound can slip to alert them to her presence. So this is the reason why Remus keeps rejecting her? He loves . . . Snape? How is that possible? Like everyone, she'd believed the two couldn't stand each other. And why, if it's true, did Remus not simply tell her? With a growing feeling of surrealism, she realises that this sounds precisely like her and Remus's conversation a few hours ago, only this time, Remus is in her place.
"How about being with someone who can make you happy!"
"That someone is you, Severus. Tonks . . . I could love her, yes. But I fell in love with you first, and it's a waste of time thinking about it now. I want you. If you'd just listen to me . . ."
He could love her. Would, maybe – if it weren't for Snape. For a short moment that shocks her, Tonks can't help but think that maybe if Snape does die during the war . . . But of course she can't wish death on anyone, and she wouldn't want that kind of grief for Remus. She knows she should leave now and no longer intrude on their privacy, but instead, she carefully opens the door, inch by inch, until she can look inside.
Snape is standing in front of the fireplace, half turning his back to Tonks, staring into the flames, while Remus is behind him, his hand on Snape's shoulder.
"I've been listening for months," Snape says now, "and my answer is the same. You're a fool for throwing away what you could have with her. And for what? A life on the run with me? Your friends looking down on you for being with me? They'll not understand it even now, and once all of this is over, if I'm still alive . . ." He turns around to Remus, his pale face glowing in the shine of the fire. "There's no telling what I might have to do. Torture, murder – they won't understand how you could love me. If you still could."
"I can," Remus says, stepping closer to him, his large hand now wrapped around Snape's arm instead of resting on his shoulder. "You've already done those things – I knew that when I fell in love with you. I also know that you've changed, and if you have to do it again, it won't be because you want it. It will be because it's necessary, to save lives. To stop Voldemort. If they judge you for doing what they can't, it's their problem. Then I don't need them in my life. But I do need you." He's speaking as softly now as when he was talking with Tonks, but his voice is entirely different. Insistent. Passionate. He sounds how Tonks wishes he could speak with her, how she now knows he never will.
"I don't understand you." Snape should be glad – not many people would think like this, Tonks knows, even though Remus is right – but instead, he seems even angrier. "You know what I did back then, the consequences it had for everyone. For your friends. Have you forgotten that I told the Dark Lord about –"
"I know, Severus. And you know I forgive you."
Snape seems to slump into himself – Tonks doesn't know what this is about, but he looks tired, more so than she's ever seen him as a teacher or during the meetings.
"You shouldn't."
"Why? Because you can't?"
Snape wants to pull away, but Remus won't let him, his grip tightening, and instead, he draws him closer, his other hand entangling itself in Snape's long hair as he leans in for a kiss. Tonks can see that Snape is tense, but unlike Remus did with her, he doesn't pull away at the last second.
Again, Tonks thinks about leaving – it hurts to watch – but she can't take her eyes off them. Their kiss is gentle, but there's no denying the passion as Snape first relaxes into Remus's arms and then in turn wraps his arms around him, holding on tightly.
"I love you," Remus murmurs when they break the kiss in the end. Tonks has to strain to understand him. "And I know we can make it through all of this. Give us a chance, now that we've finally found each other."
He pulls Snape closer yet for another kiss, and Snape cups Remus's face, running his fingertips over his temple and cheek. They look so focused on each other, so oblivious to anything else that Tonks doubts they would notice her even if she were to go in and speak to them.
They do love each other, she's certain of that, and finally, with a sigh, she decides to leave. It's then that it happens: with a used motion faster than her eye can follow – faster than she as a trained Auror could do it – Snape draws his wand and presses its tip against Remus's temple.
Again, Tonks has to bite down a shocked gasp; she stands like frozen, as does Remus.
"Not this time," Snape mutters hoarsely. "I won't let you distract me again."
"Severus? What are you –"
"I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago: make sure you'll be happy once I'm gone."
"You can't make me –"
"Shut up!"
Even from the door, Tonks can see that the flicker in Snape's eyes doesn't come from the dancing firelight, can see the slight tremor in his fingers as they ghost once more over Remus's cheek. They're still close enough that Remus has to feel his breath on his lips as he speaks.
"You will forget me," Snape says slowly, his voice forcibly calm as he looks Remus straight in the eye. "You won't remember anything other than despising me, and the next time Miss Tonks bats her pretty eyes at you, you will ask yourself why you didn't realise much sooner what a lovely woman she is and how well you two fit together. After this war is over, you two will breed and have a handful of children, just like Arthur and Molly. You will be surrounded by your happy little family and your friends, as you deserve, not mourning over a spy nobody else cares about or ostracised from everyone and left with me."
Remus opens his mouth, but Severus is too quick, and it's only when he speaks that Tonks realises that she could have done something to prevent it.
"Obliviate!"
What can she do? Tonks is sitting on her bed, a single candle guttering on the bedside table as she goes over the scene at Grimmauld Place again and again. When Snape had spoken the spell, had erased Remus's love for him from his memory, she had fled as quickly as possible, going straight home.
She knows she has to talk to somebody about what happened, but she isn't sure she could make Remus believe her. She's got no reason to lie, but it's hard to accept something of which you have no memory at all, and being in love with Snape, of all people, will sound terribly far-fetched to him. Maybe she should ask Kingsley for advice – or go directly to Dumbledore. He's the one everybody trusts, and Remus would listen to him.
Tonks sighs and wipes at her burning eyes; she's beyond exhausted, and a few times during the last hour, she couldn't hold back tears. After what she witnessed, there is no hope for her with Remus anymore. Some might be tempted to take advantage of the situation, but she'd put aside the thought as quickly as it had come – she could never betray Remus like that, could never live a life with him that is based on a lie.
Finally, she decides to pay Dumbledore a visit next thing in the morning. For now, she has to sleep; she can barely hold her eyes open. Vaguely, she thinks of changing into pyjamas, but instead, she only flops down on the mattress and pulls the covers over herself. Hopefully, she'll be asleep within no more than a minute.
When Tonks wakes up again, it's to darkness and a feeling of wrongness – she wants to reach for her wand, but before she can finish the thought, there is a light pressure at her temple and she freezes.
"You did not honestly believe I hadn't noticed you," comes the murmur, and she isn't surprised to recognise Snape's voice.
"What do you want?" she asks, but there is no true doubt in her mind.
"You know."
"Yes. It would be useless to ask you not to do it, wouldn't it?" As useless as it would be to try and fight – she can barely make out the shadow next to the bed, and she knows she could never be fast enough for him anyway.
"You should be grateful," Snape says calmly, "that I'm paving the way for you. Neither of you will remember any of this, and you will be free to go after him again without any guilt. Only this time, there is nothing to hold him back."
"It will be a lie."
"Truth is what we perceive it to be. And you heard it yourself: without me, he could love you. It won't be a lie, and you will never know otherwise."
"What about you?" She has little hope that she can talk Snape out of this, but she hasn't forgotten the way he had looked at Remus, the way he'd pressed into Remus's embrace and clung to him. "How will you live with it? If you had Remus, at least you would have something to hold on to during whatever you'll have to do. He loved you – he'd have done whatever he could to help you."
"I know. That is precisely the problem." The pressure of the wand at her temple increases, and Tonks resigns herself to the inevitable. She can only hope that if he knew, Remus could forgive her for not intervening before.
"Obliviate!"
A cold cup of tea is standing on the coffee table at Spinner's End; next to it, there's a wand and a glass with only one gulp of Firewhiskey left in it.
Severus sits motionless, staring down at the blotchy brown carpet of his living room, as he has been doing for the last twenty minutes. He should do it, should no longer torture himself, but it's hard, almost harder than he thinks he can bear.
He's seeing Remus's face before him, eyes soft but insistent as he keeps telling Severus that he wants him, loves him. That he is forgiven. The feeling of Remus's arms around him, Remus's lips on his own . . . Remus's face twisted first in confusion and then anger when he'd found himself so close to Severus without knowing why.
"What are you playing at? What's happening here?" he had asked, all former warmth gone from his voice, instead replaced with suspicion. Of course, Severus had planned an excuse, but he hadn't been able to speak, had barely been able to breathe through the pain of the finality of what he had done. In the end, while Remus had still been demanding an explanation, he had turned and fled.
Erasing a memory is irreversible; there is nothing even Severus can do to change it anymore. Any doubts he might have are too late. Reluctantly, he reaches for his wand on the coffee table. He doesn't want to do it, to erase the one remainder of what they had, of what could have been, but he knows it is better like this. Remembering would hurt too much, would hinder him in his task, and now, nothing is more important.
At least you'd have something to hold on to, Tonks had said, but he already has a reason to fight, and it's only now that he can admit to himself that he did this as much for himself as he did it for Remus. Once before, he was rejected for his actions by someone he loved - he doesn't think he could take going though it again.
Severus raises the wand to his temple.
He only needs one lost love to get him through this war.