I don't own the characters or the song it is based on! J.K. Rowling owns the characters, and We Are The Fallen owns the song. Please review!
Remus had been sitting there for what seemed like days. Tonks lay in the standard-issue St. Mungo's bed, sleeping peacefully, thanks to the strong potion she had been given. He didn't even know why he was allowed to be there. This whole thing had been his fault. He had forgotten to take his wolfs bane potion, and he was getting close to his transformation time. They had argued, and he was upset with her. He felt the change coming, felt the beast inside him trying to get out, so he went straight to the door to leave, not wanting to bring any harm to her. She tried to stop him, not realizing what the moon outside looked like. She grabbed at him. He tried to tell her! He really did! But it was too late. His transformation occurred and he attacked her, clawing at her face.
The last shred of sanity he still had left stopped him before he bit her. Ashamed, he ran. She would probably hate him when she woke up. He didn't blame her. He hated himself.
He fought himself internally. He wanted to take her hand, to hold it in his own, but he knew he shouldn't. He didn't deserve to touch her. He didn't deserve her love. And she deserved better.
But he knew her. She wouldn't accept better while he was around. She only had eyes for him. She continuously saw him for the good in him. He wasn't good! He was a monster! He was cursed, and that curse had destroyed any ability to be good that he ever had. He knew what he had to do.
He grabbed a piece of scrap parchment and a quill, scribbling out a hurried explanation. He knew he had to be quick, afraid she would wake up. He would lose every last ounce of resolve if he were to even catch a glimpse of beautiful, dark orbs.
He placed the note on the bedside table. He literally had to hold himself back to keep himself from brushing away a piece of bubblegum pink hair, to keep himself from kissing her once perfect face, now injured by his own hand. He was sick. He had attacked his own wife! She was the only person he had left in the world that still loved him for who he was and he had attacked her!
He stood, leaving the room. He didn't know where he would go. Somewhere far, somewhere she wouldn't think to look for him. He thanked the nurse and lied, saying he was going home to get some rest. His lie ripped into him. He knew that later, when Tonks awoke to find him gone, that nurse would be the one to have to calm his grieving wife. He bit back a sob. This was going to hurt her so much, but in the end, this was what was best for her. Wasn't it?
He left the hospital, breaking into a run. He ran and ran, refusing to stop, even when his throat began to burn with thirst. He didn't stop when his legs started to cramp. He especially didn't stop when his heart began to ache for her. He allowed his mind to wander, to imagine what life would have been like for them if Greyback had never bitten him. They would probably be home together, nestled on the loveseat together. Maybe a few children would be running around the house.
Children. That was what they had argued about. She had been begging him to try. She didn't understand the risk. What if their children were like him? He couldn't force that on an innocent life? It nearly killed him that her desire to create something so beautiful and innocent could not be fulfilled because of him. And it had led to all of this.
He pictured her, sitting by the fireplace, alone, her hair a mousy brown, waiting for him to come back. The image crushed him. He fell to his knees, barely registering that he was in a field somewhere. He buried his head in his hands, his gut gripped by a combination of grief and guilt.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He sobbed. "Oh Nymphadora I'm so sorry!"
He curled up in the fetal position, as if trying to hold himself together. He continued to cry, each sob threatening to tear him limb from limb. After a while, it grew dark, and his sobs became soft whimpers. He was exhausted.
He pictured Tonks, sleeping peacefully back at St. Mungo's. He hugged himself, imagining that he was holding her close.
"Sleep well, my angel," he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut.