A/N: So this happened. I know I don't normally write Harry Potter stuff, but the idea hit and stuck with me and my beta demanded that I post it immediately. So here it is.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I remind Morgan of Ms. Rowling.
Remus Lupin stood in the doorway of his bedroom. His arms were folded across his chest, and he was leaned against the doorframe in an unconscious imitation of Sirius Black. He stared unseeingly into the room, at the bundle of blankets tangled around the woman he loved lying on the bed in the far corner of the room. She had to be exhausted to be sleeping like that; he knew the signs. So many times, when she came home from work, she had been too tired to do more than tug at the covers ineffectively before succumbing to sleep. He had often had to cover her himself, lest the blankets become the mess he was currently staring at.
It registered somewhere in his mind that her hair was the same mouse-brown it had been between Sirius' death and Dumbledore's. Immediately, he felt a sharp pang of guilt in his gut; she must have been worried sick about him. He realized how it must have seemed; he had left without a word, he hadn't had a mission, and no one had known where he was. Shame joined the guilt washing through him, and he knew then that Harry had been right.
He'd been angry with Harry until that very moment, and he realized that it was because some part of him had known the young man to be right. The final words he had heard before slamming the door, words that had seemed to be carried through the house specifically for him to hear, came back to him: "Parents shouldn't leave their kids unless—unless they've got to."
Harry was right. Harry was very, very right, and the boy knew from experience. Maybe his wife and child would be outcasts in wizarding society, maybe the baby would be a werewolf, maybe life would be a continuous struggle, but at least their home would be complete and full of love.
Remus walked towards his bed and his wife, leaving his shoes, socks, and cloak in a trail behind him. Upon reaching the bed, he gently straightened the covers and slipped under them. He reached out tentatively, nervous to wake the woman sleeping beside him, but knowing that her worry should be calmed.
"Nymph," he called softly. "Nymph, wake up."
A pair of dark brown eyes fluttered opened. The eyes rapidly brightened and turned blue, and the previously mouse-brown hair became its usual hot pink in a visual representation of Nymphadora Tonks' realization of who was lying next to her. "Remus!" she exclaimed, and practically jumped on him. "You're alive! Oh, Remus!" Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist and she buried her head in his chest. "Where were you?" she asked, her voice muffled.
"I went to talk to Harry," Remus replied, sitting up to hold his wife. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should have done." He pulled her closer and tucked her head under his chin. "I've been an idiot, Nymph," he said quietly. "I've been so stupid, and I'm sorry. I love you."
He felt Nymph smile into his chest. "I feel like I ought to be interrogating you, to see if you're actually a Death Eater in disguise," she said with a small laugh.
Remus couldn't help smiling back. "I'll have to convince you, then," he replied. "My name is Remus John Lupin, occasionally Moony, and I'm married to the most beautiful woman on this or any other planet and the mother of my child. If that doesn't convince you—" he paused momentarily to tip both of them over so he was lying on top of her, "—I will then let you know that my wife particularly likes it when I do this to her neck."
As Nymph gasped and moaned quietly, Remus smiled internally. He knew that they were going to have to talk, and the sooner the better, but for now, he was going to get started that bit about filling their home with love.