Chapter 1 – Melancholy
She stormed out of the room as fast as she could, eyes full and heart heavy. He drained her of what she was. He rejected her, no matter how hard she pushed. She tried another approach. That didn't work either. From one style to another, Tonks had jumped from every single idea she had. Now, she was tired of jumping.
She didn't even bother hoping that he would chase after her. 'He wouldn't.', she told herself. She didn't want him to.
She was running now and didn't bother stopping. Not soon, anyway.
She ran. She ran away from the Hospital Wing, from Remus and everybody else. She ran despite the pain in her knee, despite the pain in her heart. She ran regardless of his voice calling her name, pleading with her. She ran away from all her emotions; all the pain, all the hurt, the regret, the self-pity, the humiliation. She ran away from love. Just like he did.
Slowly, just very slowly, the sound of his voice died down, his footsteps silenced down for he had stopped chasing her.
Slowly, she stopped running, her heart still racing. She was out of breath.
She sat down against the cold marble wall, her miserable life replayed in her head in slow-motion. She hugged her knees and took long, deep breaths. She didn't realize where she was all at once. It was dark out side and it was very easy to get lost at Hogwarts. She hugged her knees tighter and rested her chin on them She bit her lip and looked around. She stared into space for a while.
Her eyes filled up again. She lowered her head down so that her forehead touched her knees. Her whole body shook as she sobbed and wailed. She cried.
Maybe just this once, she would allow herself to be vulnerable, shielded from the eyes of anyone else.
No matter how hard she cried her heart out, it was still full, fuller that ever, if you must.
It was strange, how she cried. For she never cried like this for Dumbledore, she never cried this hard for Sirius, not even when Auntie Bella slapped her when she was 6 – and that was saying something.
She spent hours there, just crying. Her positions varied. Right now, she was on the floor, on her side, tears forming a puddle. Her hair was all over the place, a deep black with subtle hints of brown here and there. She couldn't morph anymore, she couldn't eat either. She lost a tragic amount of weight and was weak as ever.
Her pale creamy skin was marked with a few gashes and scratches as results of either battling or her clumsiness. She had a slightly small nose that was supported by her pale lips, now chapped and dry.
Her cheek bones were prominent but, alas, were drained of color. They seemed to be the only things that could lift up or hold her sad, sleepy gray eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep during the past few weeks. Three or four hours were the most to be expected at night.
She was tired. Tired of crying, tired of fighting. Tired of life and of love. Her heart swelled and her body went limp.
Her feelings stirred inside of her; twisting, tugging, pulling, and pinching her heart. She let out a jaggy sigh. Still trembling, she closed her eyes.