Disclaimer; not JK obv.
Late nights typing under my duvet on my sisters laptop leads to this. Sorry for any spelling or general lack of correct grammar. (Also, I apologise for the distinct lack of Dumbledore grief.)
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He tried to communicate everything to her in one look, but she had stubbornly turned away. Her sillouette was framed by the Infirmary window as the late moon's light shone through.
It was typical. This infuriating woman stared at him in the most inappropriate way at the most inappropriate times, yet the moment he actually needed her eyes on his, she wouldn't even glance in his direction.
He still stared at her over the bed. Her arms were firmly crossed, and her hair was its un-morphed mousey brown. He never understood her reasoning for changing it; it was perfect how it was. Yet, somehow she wasn't completely her without her hair some vivid shade of purple or pink. She wasn't quite exactly his Dora.
Exactly, he told himself. She isn't yours anymore.
The heads of red hair that surrounded the two of them could have been blurs for all he noticed. As far as he was concerned, she was the only one in the room. Where ever she was, when ever she entered a room, he gravitated towards her. She was his anchor, and try as he might, he couldn't cut the cords that chained himself to her.
He watched her, taking in each plane on her face, as he had done thousands of times before; whether she was eating, sleeping, or when her face was directly above his, breath tickling his nose.
Stop it.
But his thoughts lingered, and still he watched her silently. She was like a statue. Her earlier outburst must have drained her completely if the battle hadn't.
And suddenly he felt selfish, he was thinking about them when he should have been thinking about her. How many death eaters had she single handily fought off while he had uselessly tried to blast down the barrier?
He knew she had thrown up the strongest shield charm as the ceiling came down on him, as he cast a pathetic one around her in his panic, instead of one around himself.
For the first time that night, he noticed the bags under her eyes, her thin frame, and her unhealthy complexion that she hadn't even morphed. Maybe what Molly had told him was true, and not some cunning ploy. The thought crept into his mind and nagged at him, could she morph at all?
He drew out his wand, and conjured a cup of tea exactly the way she liked it. No sugar and lots of milk. He used to tease her that she never took sugar because she was sweet enough already.
Stop it.
"Tonks?" He slowly walked round onto her side of the bed. He spoke quietly, but he still noticed the sudden hush that fell around the room. It only lasted a few seconds, then voices were talking loudly as the Weasley clan clattered and moved to gather around Bill's bed.
She faced away from him, but he heard the low muttering of, "What is it."
"Tea?"
He didn't think she would turn around, and had started to lower his hand holding the cup, when she spun slowly. Her eyes, the exact things he had been longing to look into for the past ten minutes, stared at him warily.
"Thanks." And after a slight pause, she took the mug, blew on it, and gulped it down.
He stood next to her in silence, trying not to glance at her too often out of the corner of his eye. She had a curtain of hair to hide her face, however he still caught the flicker of her eyes moving across his face through brown strands.
"I meant what I said." Her voice was calm and flat, the fire from earlier was gone. That relieved him slightly, but saddened him more.
"I know."
"But you meant what you said as well." It wasn't a question.
"Yes." His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. He didn't want to hurt her anymore, but she was making it exceedingly difficult for him to just stand there, so he kept his answer short and clipped.
She closed her eyes in another act that betrayed her exhaustion. He was frightened when she swayed, so he reached out a hand to steady her, and marvelled when she did not flinch away from his touch as she should. Instead, he felt her lean in ever so slightly.
"Tonks, you need to rest."
"I'll rest when you listen to sense."
When has Dora ever been sensible though? He thought wirily.
He chose not to respond, so she sighed, and he withdrew his hand from her arm. She caught it firmly in two of hers, and gave it a hard tug. He met her eyes, and saw the smouldering hazel ones staring so intently at him he wondered if she was seeing straight into his thoughts. Did she know how turbulent she had made him feel? He wondered if it was her in his mind now, as she had taken over it so fully.
"It never mattered to me, you know. It still doesn't."
"But-"
"No Remus." Her voice was quiet but firm. "All your stupid reasons, they don't matter. But I'm getting tired of trying to prove to you that I love you, and trying to get you to love me back."
Her words sent a shock through him, beginning at his fingertips, at her touch. How could she think he doubted her? How could she believe he did not love her just as much? As insane as she was, how could she ever think…
And it thrilled him to hear her say those words so casually, when previously they had only been whispered in dark halls, and in the middle of the night curled up together under her sheets.
He realised he was staring at her in shock, and promptly shut his mouth.
"I'm tired, Remus. Tired of this world, and tired of fighting the wrong person. Why can't we be happy? Don't we deserve it?" She handed him back the mug, met his eyes for a last time, and walked slowly past him and out of the infirmary door.
He swallowed, and sunk down onto the bed they had been standing by. He passed the mug from hand to hand, then realised it had words on it.
Back in Black!
He must have summoned it from Grimmauld Place, it was a muggle present he had brought Sirius back one day to lighten him up out of one of his foul moods. He looked up at the Infirmary. He had spent countless of times in here, whether from full moon recuperation, or suffering the end of a Marauder incident gone wrong.
It was in here Sirius, James, and Peter had approached him when they were just first years. James had cast the recently learnt quietening charm, Sirius had ruffled his hair, and Peter sat on the end of the bed grinning at him.
"You're a werewolf Remus." James told him triumphantly, like he was just answering a question from McGonagall.
He hadn't denied it, but cold fear had stabbed through him as he waited for them to be repulsed, to run, to desert him.
Sirius had looked quite put out when he suggested they should leave him alone so he could go and pack.
"Why on earth would we leave you alone?! Do you know how many questions I have?! You aren't going to sleep for weeks!"
And then, in fourth year, James was stuck for two weeks in the exact bed he was now sitting on. It was hard to convince the teachers that the one antler sprouting from his head was the product of a serious potions mix up. That was how Prongs came into being.
Remus had always been amazed how that tiny slip up had never put any of the Marauders off. James's accident was the first of many. Once, Sirius pulled off a rather furry face as unshaven stubble, and Peter somehow hid his incredible large teeth from everyone for a month.
He never quite grasped how people went to such lengths for him. Those three boys had risked their lives every month for him. They had risked getting expelled or permanently harmed for the transformations they regularly undertook. And although they would laugh off his worry, Remus saw it sometimes when Sirius would run a hand over a cut in the mornings. He would see the flash of concern in James's face as his glaze flicked to the werewolf in the room. And he knew Peter always held a shred of fear behind his whiskers.
And now, here was Tonks, who had just thrown away her dignity and pride to confront him in this public place in front of their fellow Order members and a bunch of teenagers.
He stared with unseeing eyes at the familiar room. He could almost imagine Sirius standing over him, glaring with that annoyed yet exasperated expression he wore so much where romance and Remus were concerned. He practically heard James screaming in his ear to follow the girl who risked all for him on a daily basis. He felt their pushes, and he stood up suddenly, which caused the mug resting in his lap to fall to the floor and smash. Molly Weasley jumped at the sound, saw his set jaw and moved out of his way as he stormed past and out of the infirmary door.
He found her eventually. He mentally thanked Sirius and James for their Hogwarts escapades which had drilled the map of the castle into his head so thoroughly.
She was striding down a corridor that led to the kitchens. Their footsteps were loud in the deserted halls, but she did not turn around.
"Tonks!" He called. She kept walking.
"Nymphadora, please wait." He spoke quieter, but even her full name did not cause any response.
"Dora!" Louder this time, and her steps lost their rhythm, yet she kept going.
"DORA, WILL YOU COME HERE!" He shouted to her, putting all his frustration and anger at her, at them, at their whole stupid situation into those few words. They echoed along the stone walls, and his voice magnified.
She spun to face him, her face twisted and her eyes glistening.
"These past months without you have been torment." The words began falling out of his mouth, and he was fed up of locking everything away. If she was brave enough to say it to a room of people, surely he could find a scrape of courage to say it in this empty corridor.
"I thought it would be easier for you. I wanted you to be happy. But deep down I knew, or I hoped that you wouldn't be. I've never been happier than when I was with you in dusty Grimmauld. I can't explain how afraid I am of hurting you, but I think… Now I know I'm more afraid of loosing you."
He took a steadying breath, and gained more confidence. He took a step towards her, and spoke in hushed tones only meant for her.
"Time with you was… is… all I think about. You do deserve happiness Dora. That's the most important thing to me."
Another few steps and they were practically nose to nose.
"I've been stupid, and I've been selfishly trying to protect myself at times. I'm not going to be able give you everything you want or need, but I can try. I love you Dora, and that won't ever change. I'm not good, or safe, but I love you."
His eyes searched hers for something, any flash of emotion would be better than a teary gaze he could neither read nor understand.
"I've only ever needed you, you great idiot." Her voice cracked, and in one movement she had wrapped her arms around him. One hand was tangled in his hair, another rested on his face as he crushed his lips to hers.
"I'm sorry." He breathed when he pulled back.
She raised an eyebrow and said, "Of course you are." Before bringing their faces back together again.
And as the passionate reunited kisses turned to lingering embraces, they slipped into their own perfect world. There was no Hogwarts, no death, no Dumbledore. Not even one thought of the Order crossed his mind. There was no horror or pain. It was just the two of them, wrapped up entirely in each other. And the only thing between them were whispered promises of the future.
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The ending is SO cheesy.
Reviewers get and angry!Remus storming after them with declarations of love and all that mushy stuff.