Chapter 2: Night Musings
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Disclaimer: Only partially the author's brainchild, and not at all the author's rent cheque. For full disclaimer please refer to Chapter 1.
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Remus Lupin was a coward. Harry Potter had told him so, and he seemed to be right about most things, intentionally or otherwise. He still stung from the argument and prayed for an opportunity to right it, but as he lay in bed next to the still form of his wife, he considered the truth to the insult. If he were half so brave as Moody had thought him, or a quarter so wise as Dumbledore had hoped, he would be infiltrating the ministry or something exciting. At the very least, he'd be doing something of more direct use to the Order, rather than cowering amongst muggles. May God have mercy on both their souls, Remus thought of the two great men. And give them a square kick to the trousers for finding rest – albeit deservedly – and leaving the rest of us to a world of ash and sorrow, he added with uncharacteristic cynicism.
At this moment Tonks let out a trainwreck-sounding snore and flopped over onto his half of the bed, her limp hand thwapping him squarely on the chest. It was as if her unconscious was chastising his subconscious. He turned his head to look at her with a wearied expression. Not two feet from him lay the woman he adored more than any living being, for whom he had confessed his love in front of all the people whose opinions he held in esteem, who refused to accept all the logical reasons the world had shown him that said he was unlovable. The woman whose charms had beguiled a desperate man into a momentary loss of sanity (or so he justified it, those many, many momentary losses of sanity) and now they were both paying the price. Once again, the moon intervenes to ruin my life. He immediately felt a knife stab of shame for his attitude. If not for the war, for his own failings, for any number of other circumstances at play, this should have been the happiest time of his life. But all those things are real, and here, and inescapable. It's the cowardice in my bones that makes me wish it weren't so, I suppose, that makes me blame the being whose existence means the most to me. He dragged a hand across his face as though wiping away a cobweb, then rolled onto his side to but an arm over Tonks' abdomen. He patted the swelling bulge in a gesture of apology, but even to himself he felt as though its sincerity questionable at best.
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Author's Note: Short chapter, I know. I apologize. We will return to our regularly scheduled programming in the next chapter but I felt this one needed to stand alone.