Well, again, I have a lot of completed stories that have been completed for quite awhile but I'm posting this one 'cause it's based on HBP and HBP just came out.
Title: Companionship
Author: Erika
Rating: PG
Summary: Tonks is offering Remus companionship. Is that such a bad thing?
Timeframe: During HBP, before the death (anyone who's read it knows who I'm talking about).
Spoilers: Definitely for HBP (I don't give away who dies or who the HBP is so they're pretty minor) and also for OotP if you don't know who dies (as if that's even possible).
Category: POV, Angst
Disclaimers: Hogwarts and all of its characters belong to JK Rowling, I'm only borrowing them to have a little fun and I promise to return them unharmed (well, at least mostly unharmed). I'm making no money from this and this is written for entertainment purposes only.
Feedback: Both positive feedback and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated and will be cherished!
Archive: Please ask first.
Author's Note: (1) Like I mentioned in the A/N of my last story, I'm not particularly fond of the way in which the relationship between Remus and Tonks was introduced or handled. This story is an insight into what Remus might be feeling/thinking about her. Any real fans of Remus/Tonks should probably avoid reading this since it's not exactly a positive or happy look at why he might have ended up with her. (2) I also wanted to thank the stars shine for you and Marauders Chick for pointing out those typos/mistakes. They've been corrected.
Oh, I apologize for any past/present tense issues. I think I should stick to writing my stories entirely in the past test. When I try to do present tense, I just get confused.
Remus:
My fellow members of the Order don't realize what it means to be a werewolf. They most likely didn't even think about it much until after Sirius died. With him, everything was easier. He was my best friend and wouldn't hear of me spending a full moon alone. He didn't care that I was violent without the Wolfsbane Potion. When I retreated to my bedroom at Grimmauld Place, growing increasingly silent and morose as moonrise approached, he joined me.
We hardly ever spoke in the dwindling minutes before my transformations. I would remove my clothes and retreat to a corner of the room, trying to gather my courage and strength and Sirius, eyes full of such caring and sorrow, would wordlessly sit next to me. When the first spasms of pain hit, he would comfort me as best he could. By the time my body was ripped from me and the agony lifted, I would find myself accompanied by a large canine that understood the madness of the wolf and was more than willing to endure it.
To him, all that mattered was that his being there made things easier for me. The bites and scratches didn't mean anything. Even when I emerged from wolf form to find him bearing several painful wounds, he never complained. He refused to even tend to them until after treating my own injuries. Patiently, understandingly, he would listen to my apologies and then smile reassuringly and offer the same sort of response each time. "It's not your fault. Please don't feel bad."
Carefully, gently, he would carry me to my bed and leave me there to sleep for countless hours. When I awoke, ravenous but weak and exhausted, he would prepare some food in the kitchen and bring it up for me to eat. By the time I emerged from my room – normally a day or so after moonset – my other friends were only confronted with a werewolf that was pale and tired. They didn't have to see me covered in raw claw marks or uneasily avert their eyes when I stumbled as I walked. At least, they didn't have to see me that way until after Sirius died.
Without Padfoot around to play with or attack, I turn on myself. When I transform back, too injured to move or treat myself, I fall into an exhausted sleep on the floor. Many of my gashes and bites are still bleeding when hunger drives me into wakefulness and forces me to venture from my room. The journey down the stairs is always difficult. I often fall or half-drag myself down them.
The first time this happened, my friends were aghast. They clumsily offered their help because they knew that it was expected of them. When I rebuffed them I could tell they were relieved. I assured myself it didn't matter. I did this alone during the twelve years of Sirius' imprisonment and would do it alone again. More importantly, I didn't want their pity.
I can't escape it, though. Due to my undercover assignment, I've spent very few full moons at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. When I do I can feel their eyes upon me as I struggle to make myself food and then bring it to my mouth with hands that tremble. When I look at them, many of them refuse to meet my gaze because they finally realize what Sirius so kindly allowed them to ignore: it's painful, tiring, and physically demanding to be a werewolf.
Even still, they don't understand. Being a werewolf is more than enduring agonizing transformations that strip me of my human sanity and reason. It's more than the blood and wounds, than the scars and exhaustion.
There are very few people who are willing to truly be friends with someone like me. There are very few people like James and Sirius. Most turn away in disgust. Those that claim they want to help don't know how to deal with the injuries and fatigue. They don't want to feel like they have to take care of me.
I've learned my lesson well. It's best to keep my condition private. That way those who don't know of it don't have to look at me with pity and those who do don't have to feel obligated to help in some way. It's also simpler for me. I've been spat at and physically and verbally assaulted more times that I care to remember and I don't need to see the hate and fear when I tell someone that I'm a werewolf. No matter how many times I've been called a Dark creature, an abomination, a freak, an animal, it never gets easier to hear.
No, they don't understand. Being a werewolf is about more than being a Dark creature. Being a werewolf is about being alone. Being a werewolf means that the friends who don't know of my condition aren't really friends because how can a 'friend' not know of something that is so fundamental to my nature? Being a werewolf means that the friends who do know of my condition, despite their caring and best intentions, are always separate and apart from me. They don't know what to do or say to me about the kind of life I live so they don't do or say anything at all.
Sirius was my best friend – the best friend I know I'll ever have – because he was different. He knew what I was and he didn't hate me. He knew what I was and didn't pity me. It filled him with immense sadness to see how difficult my life is and despite how hard it was for him to see me transform, to see me hurt myself, he did something amazing for me. He led James and Peter in becoming Animagi. He never let me spend a full moon alone if he could avoid it. He saw me and stayed.
Sirius broke through the walls I've built to protect myself from getting hurt.
But now Sirius is gone and I'm not sure I can let anyone else inside those walls. I'm not sure I can take that risk. I just don't want to get hurt. Because…how many people out there can possibly be like Padfoot? How many people possess that amount of loyalty? How many people will be able to look at me, see me transform, not know what to do, but do something anyway? How many people won't hate or pity me? How many people will promise to help me and then not regret making that promise?
I don't know. I don't know if there are any. If there are, I don't know how to identify them. That's why I tried to ignore the situation with Tonks for as long as possible. I'm not blind. It's not that I didn't notice the way she looked at me, the way she looks at me still. It's not that I didn't notice how difficult it is for her to behave normally around me, to not stutter or be more clumsy than usual. It's not that I didn't see that even the smallest word or gesture of kindness on my part fills her eyes with radiant joy. I just didn't want to deal with it.
She doesn't pity me. That's easy enough to see. She wants to help me. That's also easy enough to see. It's not enough, though. Not nearly enough. She's young. So young. What if she stays for awhile, takes care of me after the full moons, tries her best to understand what it's like for me to be a werewolf, and then realizes it's too much for her and leaves? It would be more than understandable. Who wants to be saddled with a werewolf, after all? It would still hurt, though. I just can't come to depend on someone, come to care about someone, and then lose them. Not again. I've lost James, Lily, and now my dearest friend of all, Sirius. I don't think I can lose someone else, even if it's not to death.
It also wouldn't be fair to her. She loves me. I don't love her. I care about her. If I let her in, if I let her get close to me, I'll come to care for her more. But will I ever love her? I don't think so. I don't think I'll let myself chance it. People say that they can't help falling in love. They say it takes them by surprise and they don't have a choice. They say that they don't even realize when it first happens, that one day they wake up and their entire world turns upside down when they look at that person. Maybe it's even true. For them. It'll never be true for me.
I've lived a life of carefully controlled emotions. For me, I know there'll be a moment. A moment when I feel myself falling, feel myself growing more and more attached. In that moment, I'll be able to decide…do I want to continue? If that moment ever comes with Tonks I don't think I'll be able to say yes. It's a matter of self-preservation.
I don't want to get hurt. It's as simple as that. Being lonely is easier.
It was for all those reasons that when Tonks finally worked up the courage to admit her feelings to me, I turned her down. I couldn't explain to her everything that I was thinking so I settled for telling her that it would never work because I'm a werewolf. I'm too damaged for her. I'm too dangerous. I'm too poor. I hoped it would be enough but Tonks is similar to Sirius in certain ways. She insisted that my being a werewolf doesn't matter, that she's an Auror and can take care of herself. No matter what I said, she simply wouldn't allow me to back out of a relationship solely because of my condition. I didn't relent either, though. As much as it pained me to see the light fleeing her eyes, I didn't relent.
It's a matter of self-preservation.
It's hard, though. It's hard to be lonely. It's hard to keep everyone at a safe distance. Sometimes, I just want to be with someone. Sometimes, I just want to be able to sit down next to another human being, feel the warmth of their presence, and not be alone anymore. Especially after the full moons. It's then that I miss Sirius the most. It's then that I think of Tonks and wonder… Would it be so horrible to let her in? Would it be so horrible to try? Even if it doesn't last long, even if I'm left alone again, would it be so horrible to be close to someone?
My last transformation was agonizing. I very nearly killed myself. When I awoke in my small, dirty flat, nearly two days had passed since moonset. I was still bleeding. I was so weak and lightheaded that I was barely able to treat the wounds and choke down a little bit of food. I remember crawling to the kitchen and using the edge of the counter as leverage to pull myself to my feet. I remember preparing a bowl of pasta and then dropping it because my hands were shaking so much. I remember eating off the floor.
After sleeping on and off for nearly a week, I thought of Sirius and everything he did for me. I thought of how much easier things were when he was there. And then I thought of Tonks and her sincerity when she assured me that she loves me and that my being a werewolf doesn't change that. I thought of how she offered to do everything in her power to help me. I thought of how she said she wants to. Again, I wondered.
It's getting more difficult to turn Tonks down. It's getting more difficult to see the sadness in her eyes and not relent. She loves me. She knows that I don't love her but she loves me anyway. She's willing to try and make things work with me. She's willing to see if I can overcome my fear of getting hurt and grow to love her in return. She's offering me caring, love, and understanding.
She's offering me companionship.
Maybe it won't last. Maybe after she leaves I'll be lonelier than before. Maybe she'll go and I'll be left with nothing but the pain of my transformations. Maybe she'll go and I'll be shattered. How many friends can someone lose before he simply can't bear it anymore? But…for as long as it does last, I won't be alone. I won't be alone. I'll have companionship.
Is that such a bad thing?
THE END