"Please" she cried desperately. "Please!"
Tears were streaming down her face, her mousy brown hair tangled and sticking to her sweaty forehead. Her blotchy eyes stared down at him, begging.
"I can't." he replied weakly. His own brown hair was clutched between his white fingers; his head bent and tired eyes staring at the ground.
"Why not, Remus? WHY NOT!" She yelled to his face.
His head still bent over his knees, he quietly told her, "You know why. I'm too old for you, I'm a werewolf. You'd just end up getting hurt."
She laughed wetly. "Don't you get it? I don't care! If you don't want me to get hurt, stop denying me! That hurts more than anything else ever could!
Remus avoided her gaze, his amber eyes staring instead at her feet. She would get hurt, and he couldn't allow that. She deserved someone her age, someone whole, not cursed.
"Damn you Remus! I love you, for Merlin's sake, I don't want someone younger, someone who's not a werewolf! I want you!"
Tears were now streaming down his face as well. He loved her, he knew that. But he couldn't condemn her to life with him. Werewolves mated for life. Once they were together, they wouldn't be able to leave. He couldn't do that to her, he wouldn't.
"You know I can't Dora. You know that." He said, his voice breaking.
"What do I know?" Nymphadora said scathingly. "That you won't take what you want? That you refuse to love someone who loves you back with all her heart, that you won't take a risk, and be the happiest you'd ever be?"
He let out a sob. It hurt, to know she was completely right, yet still have to deny it. He wanted it, to be with her, to love her. So did she. So why did he have to break both their hearts, by denying it?
He didn't. His resolve broke. Hadn't McGonagall said that Dumbledore would have wanted a little more love around?
He took one glance at her blazing eyes, stood up and grabbed her around the shoulders, pulling her into a hungry, desperate kiss.
She responded immediately, putting her arms around his thin neck, kissing just as ferociously as he was. Heat rushed through her veins, her knees gave way. She pulled them both down, deepening the kiss. Remus simply deepened it more.
He had never kissed like this. He had had a couple girlfriends in his youth, but he had loved none of them. This kiss was rough, passionate, and by no means sweet or innocent. This truly meant something.
That night, Remus marked her as his mate. It was what she wanted. What he wanted. Who was he to deny them both?
They couldn't promise they would live through the war. They couldn't promise times wouldn't get rough. They couldn't promise they would never be in danger. They couldn't promise they would always be there. But they could promise their love would never end. And that was enough.