A/N: Sigh...if only Remus and Tonks hadn't died, eh? I would have been delighted with their story if it hadn't been for their (unexplained) deaths, because who'd have thought they'd get married and everything? I thought we'd see them dance at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and kind of hold hands and stuff, and have babies in the Epilogue. Well, I was nearly there!

Anyway, this is going to be a short fic (about 10 or 11 chapters) chronicling their story from the end of HBP to the end of DH. I know it's a fourth story in progress, but...it's my fault. Enjoy...it's not all bad.

Also, in a little homage to the fanfics of my loyal friend Kerichi which stretch back as far as GoF-era, this Remus and Tonks were together for quite a while before HBP. Leaping into marriage after two months? Hardly...

Chapter One: Remus's Nightmare

Remus was at Hogwarts, although he didn't fully understand why. Or at least his head didn't, because his feet were carrying him in some purposeful direction. On his way, he passed various memorable artefacts; their positioning wasn't quite right, but it was good to see the old tree, the witch statue, the bustling kitchens, and his favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. It became clear, as he approached the large wooden doors, that he was to enter the Great Hall.

The four house tables were not there, but one person was. Nymphadora Tonks, the woman Remus loved and with whom he had just restarted a relationship, was standing in glittering navy blue dress robes and smiling widely at him. He approached her eagerly, but she was silent. All she did was take his arms in hers as the lights dimmed, and music from an unknown source began. It was gentle, but had a lot of flourishes, which made it perfect for two people who didn't really know how to dance properly. They twirled blissfully around the hall. Remus was talking away to Tonks about nothing in particular, but she still said no words. Her eyes sparkled...she was wearing make-up for once, and looked somehow more formal, but her hair was the bright pink he had missed this past year.

As the pace slowed, and the music became smoother, one of her hands moved from his arms to his neck. She wore silk gloves, but it was the caress of her fingers that caused the more pleasant sensation. She leant towards him, eternally silent, and kissed him briefly but warmly. Her loving gesture seemed to light a fire within him, as he tightened his grip on her and dipped her in the old romantic style.

He was about to smooch her when she fell out of his hands. He didn't understand, because he hadn't dropped her. Then he saw her, lying on the floor, looking as if some force had attacked her in the blink of his eye. A cold, high, feminine laugh that he had heard before tonight rang through the room from above...the room glowed with a green light that came from the enchanted ceiling. But Tonks had not been killed with the Killing Curse; her body was severely wounded, like his own body would be if all the scars happened to open, and a pool of blood was forming underneath her, soaking into her pink hair. Her eyes were glassy and her mouth was wide open. Remus was paralysed with shock. He could see she was dead and knew he ought to cry, but somehow he could not. He stood, unable to take it in.

And then...something even stranger happened. The ceiling turned to a typically English cloudy white. She got up, completely unharmed, as if it had all been some barbaric prank. Laughing nervously, thinking perhaps she had been testing his love (though there was no reason to), he held out his arms to her. She did not come into them, instead, she blew him a sad kiss and then began to walk away. He couldn't tell where she was going...what lay ahead of them seemed to be nothing but the Dementor-esque fog.

It could not have been worse. He felt as if he had lost her twice. Mad-Eye, Arthur, Molly and Kingsley appeared from nowhere around Remus, trying to offer their condolences for the loss of his beloved. But she wasn't dead, she had just gone somewhere. Remus began to explain this calmly, but they did not listen. He felt as if he had become a little boy, and Molly, a natural mother, was encouraging him to sit with her and they could talk about her together. But Remus kicked and screamed like they had told him to go to bed early, insisting;

"She is not DEAD! She just went away!"

"She is dead, Remus." Kingsley told him, his voice deep and calm. "We know she is. I know you loved her very much. We all loved her. We have lots of photos for you to remember her by."

"We just need to go after her!" he said. "She's over there, we can get her back!" he slipped away from them and ran awkwardly towards the mist. He was suddenly reminded of Harry, who had tried to pursue Sirius, and it occurred to Remus that maybe Harry was right, the veil had not killed Sirius, and he had abandoned his friend in a mysterious world of fog...

Remus's eyes opened. He saw a ceiling with a pattern of stars above him, and felt the pillow and mattress underneath. It had been a dream. Relieved as he was, his face was wet with sweat, or tears, or possibly both. It was easier to cry at night, and that had been a most horrible dream. As if to confirm the complete falsehood of what he had just imagined, he looked to his right to see the sleeping form of Nymphadora, blankets kicked off, whose face was flushed with the hot summer night and whose breathing was gentle but showed clearly that she was alive.

He was wide awake now, and felt embarassed and unhappy. He had had nightmares like this as a teenager (and woken up not to the gentle breathing of a beautiful woman, but to the loud snores of her second cousin) as the war had loomed, and now they were returning as the same happened again. He had forgotten how, though ridiculous, they seemed so real at the time. He wasn't quite sure, for example, why he had suddenly seemed to morph into a child, but he didn't want to ponder it. Instead, he felt a childish urge to touch her, and check that she was really, really alive.

He turned on his side, trying not to cause any springs to creak. The bed had been a single one, regularly put under an Engorgement Charm to allow them to share it. Though he enjoyed sharing a bed with her for the obvious reasons, he loved to wake up next to her and have a warm female body next to his own. One of the things he loved most about her, though, was her sheer lack of vanity-Remus didn't know the female species well, but he was half certain a lot of women would take the opportunity to be staggeringly, jaw-droppingly gorgeous with no effort whatsoever, except she did not. He was of course attracted to her, but she was no pin-up. Her real charm was in her actions, her laughter (rare as it was these days), her various quirks. Her flat, which he was coming to love as a new home, was full of eccentric things; an enormous old stuffed Hippogriff named 'Flappy', an inflatable chair, a mug with 'Ban The Bomb' on it, a scruffy map of the world from the point of view of Australia, and a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. He gently stroked the side of her waist to further certify her state of being alive.

Unexpectedly, she turned over onto her back, forcing a startled Remus to lean back onto a creaking spring. Though still fast asleep, a smile spread across the woman's face;

"Remus Lupin! So it's true what they say about werewolves in the run up to the full moon...schnn...I have to go to work in the morning, remember...huh...you look kind of hazy...zzz...am I asleep?"

Remus stifled a giggle and whispered in her ear. "Yes, but don't let that stop us, Nymphadora."

"Don't call me that..." she said, and then turned away from him again. He covered his mouth with his hands and laughed. Living with her was wonderful, every evening had its own charm. He had never known a woman like her. She was not a small part of his life, she was everything positive about his life. She embodied laughter, fun and happiness. Even when her ever-changing hair was as brown and lank as his own her sparkling eyes took him back to happier times. The word 'girlfriend' was really not enough to describe his relationship with her. Especially at his age...

A thought came to his mind in those early hours of the morning, as he recovered from the sensation of losing her accompanied by the gratefulness of not. They had been in love for a long time, despite their year-long separation, and he had had his mother's old engagement ring for far too long.

"Wife, on the other hand..."