"Tonks," he sighed, rubbing a hand roughly over his strained face. He could not bear to discuss this again. He dropped into a chair, looking up at her, eyes heavy. "Tonks," he said again.

She sat down too, looking intently at him, and let her fingers ghost over his forearm. "If you would just listen –"

"I have," he said wearily.

"Then you would understand!"

"I think it is you who needs to understand."

She pulled her hand away from him, eyes blazing.

"What do you think I'm trying to do here, Remus?" she began heatedly. "Do you think I'm trying to screw with you? Do you think I wouldn't keep on about this if I wasn't completely serious?"

Remus ran his hand subconsciously through his graying hair. "Don't you realize I mean the same? I've told you then and I'll tell you now - I'm too old for you, Tonks. No, listen!" he said as she opened her mouth in protest. "I'm too old, too rundown, I'm too dangerous, dammit!" He slammed his fist on the table; he didn't care if anyone upstairs heard them – he couldn't stand this feeling – denying her, denying himself, choking down the inkling that had sprouted in his chest.

"I don't care!" she roared. "I don't care, I don't care! I can't pretend anymore! I can't stand this, I don't know what I can do to make you see that!"

"Enough," he said sharply. "Let's drop it, alright?"

"No!" She stormed to her feet, letting her chair fall with a heavy, ringing thunk behind her. "Not alright! You don't – you –"

"I don't what, precisely?" He glared up at her. His eyes were calculating, harsh.

Tears threatened the brims of her eyes. "You don't get it!" she cried, words spilling from her mouth. "You don't want to let down your bloody guard for two seconds to see that I don't think you're some kind of beast! You don't want to admit you're not alone, you dense, dense bastard!" Her cheeks were wet now, her face screwed up, her fists balled at her sides. "You don't-"

"Enough!" Remus said again, rising violently. He could not listen to this – not another second, not another word. She did not cower, she did not even flinch, as his face contorted with pain and grief. "Don't you see?" His hands clenched the neck of his jumper and his eyes looked slightly manic. "I can't do this! We can't be involved! If I ever hurt you…" His voice lowered. "I'd never forgive myself."

Her eyes flickered. "You'd never forgive yourself?" She took a slow step forward, fingers at his tense elbow. "I'd never forgive myself if I let you spent your life in this undeserved isolation."

His hands dropped limply. Adverting her gaze, he said in a quiet, almost childlike voice, "I'm a monster."

Tonks' fingers traveled from his elbow to the side of his rough, scarred face. "I don't think you're a monster, Remus." She hoped the words would mean something as they fell lamely from her lips.

Slowly, Remus' hand met hers at his cheek and lingered over her fingers for a heartbeat, then closed around them lightly and forced them down to her side. He turned away, his sharp shoulder blades to her heart-shaped face.

"Remus," she pleaded quietly behind him; he could tell she was crying again. "Remus, please, just try. Please, let me help you. Let me in, I can-"

But he had turned to face her again, and his eyes cut her off – they were hard, broken, sad. They told her wordlessly to stop, more so than his words ever had. They told her that whatever he was about to say would be a lie – they told her what he could not, as his fingers lingered toward her, but pulled away at second thought.

"No," he said hoarsely. "I can't."

And one more look from those sad, sad eyes told her that he hoped she knew he was lying, because telling the truth, somehow, would hurt him more than hiding it.

Inspired by my fanart on dA art/Lupin-s-Tale-389450784