Chapter Fourteen. 700 Words,

Theme 022. Mother Nature.

The visit was as inevitable as it was unnecessary. Remus could have gone quite a many happy year, thanks, without calling on his dead wife's graves to pay his respects. But Harry had been mentioning it in that offhand way for two weeks now, saying as soon as I have a bit of time off, Remus; sorry to put it off so long and looking confused every time Remus assured him, no hurry.

Now, looking at the tombstone, he felt no better about seeing it than he had about learning about its existence. What was this supposed to accomplish? What closure could he possibly obtain from a piece of rock place perpendicular to the grassy earth?

He looked over across the empty, misty cemetery, and saw Harry smiling fondly over the top of his own wife's headstone into the distance. Remus saw his mouth moving, but couldn't hear what Harry was saying. He looked down at Tonks's stone. Was that what he was supposed to do? What did he say?

"I saw Teddy," he began lamely, and found that the words didn't help. They didn't release the ache of pent up emotion in him. There was a mental disconnect in his mind; he could not get over the hurdle of connecting this plot of damp ground to his vibrant, exuberant, passionate wife. Really, it just felt like he was talking to a rock.

Even if the rock did have her name on it.

He looked at the engraving for a very long time: Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, 04 May 1973 - 02 May. Bonis quod bene fit haud perit.

"I thought it was a bit stuffy for Tonks's taste, but Andromeda insisted," Harry said at Remus's shoulder. He did not move when Harry placed a cautious hand on his opposite shoulder. "I guess coming here with you was a mistake. Sorry. I usually feel sick out of my mind with guilt if I don't make time at least weekly to visit Ginny's grave. I guess I didn't really pause to consider it would be different for you."

"It's all right, Harry," Remus said, although it wasn't. Nature would have long taken its toll on the corpse. Tonks would be nothing but a skeleton anymore. How could that ever be all right?

"It never gets better, but it won't be so overwhelming after a while." Harry said, almost automatically, looking at Remus. Well, of course he would, Remus thought. How many grieving widowers had he comforted over the years? Not that he blamed Harry for detaching himself, Remus just would have expected a bit more emotion concerning the woman who birthed his godson.

"Do you want me to stay, or?"

"No," Remus croaked, only distantly alarmed by the sound of it; how his voice seemed to be tearing itself apart, since the rest of him resisted the temptation. He cleared his throat and looked at Harry. "No, you go ahead, I'll follow in a minute."

"Okay. You sure you can handle Apparation?"

"I'm sure," Remus said, eyes already wandering back to Tonks's headstone. When he next looked away, the sky was was darkening, and there was a blanket around his shoulders. Harry sat with his arms hugging his knees a few feet away, sipping coffee.

"How long have I been out here?"

"Close to five hours. I came back forty-five minutes after I left you here."

That sobered Remus from his trance instantaneously. "Sorry. I guess I-"

Harry held up a hand and shook his head, and then stood up. "No. Trust me. You don't have to explain. But if you need anything." He shrugged, and then moved closer, taking Remus's arm in his own and Disapparating them back to Harry's foyer. He directed Remus to a couch in the sitting room, said, "sit here, I'll make soup," and left Remus to his own devices.

Which consisted of staring at the floor, wondering how many wives were trapped six feet under it.