24. Broken

He didn't know what to think of it all.

She had shown up at Grimmauld, looking miserable, and as soon as he had opened the door, she had flung herself into his arms and begun to cry. He had gently lifted her to the sofa where she had collapsed onto him, sobbing uncontrollably into his sweater. By the time Sirius had bustled into the room, stopping abruptly at the sight that lay before him, Remus had placed his arms around her, rubbing her soothingly, daring Sirius to comment.

After quite a few minutes, she finally lifted her head enough to look into his eyes, and never in his life had he seen such sadness.

"What happened?" he asked softly, brushing the beautiful, strawberry-red hair out of her face.

Tears streamed down her heart-shaped face. "D-Dumbledore thinks… I'm the spy."

His immediate reaction was that Dumbledore was mistaken. Tonks was not the spy. She couldn't be. He was convinced of it.

"I-I'm not," she sobbed, "but he thinks I am… So I h-have to leave."

His heart stopped. There was no way that she could leave. This was some sort of joke. She was fooling him. The world was fooling him. This simply could not be.

"Why does he suspect you?" he queried gently, caressing her skin where it met the lower hem of her T-shirt.

"He said that it c-couldn't be anyone else."

Anger flooded through him. So she had to be the spy because nobody else was? What kind of logic was that?

"When did he say you have to leave?" he questioned, soft as ever, repositioning so that she was seated more comfortably in his lap. He had to help her through this.

"Two days," she answered quietly, looking heartbroken. "You don't believe me, do you?"

He ran his fingers through her hair, which was immensely softer than it looked. "I trust you with my life, Nymphadora. Dumbledore is mistaken. There's no way you're the one betraying the Order. I'm more likely to be the spy than you would. That's how much faith I have in you."

This only caused her to cry harder. "Y-you're so noble, Remus," she sobbed into his chest. "I didn't think anyone would believe me."

"Does anyone else know?" he asked, stroking her thigh with impeccable gentleness.

"J-just you." Her voice broke as she spoke, and she sounded so dejected that he decided not to ask her anything else for a few minutes. He hugged her close, breathing in her scent, tucking her head under his chin, and they stayed like that for a long time.

"At first," she said quietly, "Dumbledore was going to modify my memory. So that I had no memories of the Order at all."

Her statements felt like heavy bombs in his heart, dropping to the base with great force and exploding, all at once. If she had no memories of the Order, then she wouldn't know him. She would have no idea who he was. She wouldn't remember any of their excursions, the bonding, the cherished moments that they had spent together over the past few months. And he would remember. He would remember everything, all of the love, and happiness, and warmth she had spread, and all of the love, and happiness, and warmth that he wanted, that he still wanted. But she wouldn't. She wouldn't understand how he felt, and she wouldn't understand how she had made him feel. He would regret the things he hadn't yet said. The declarations he hadn't made. The confession of his feelings that he hadn't yet understood.

And most of all, he desperately desired to know how she felt. There was no way she could fancy him, that was absurd, but how did she feel about him? Was she experiencing the same emotions as he was, this in-between confusion? Did she- his heart swelled at the thought- did she get those bursts of happiness when they were together, the way that he did?

But it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter how she felt, and it would matter even less how he felt, because she was leaving him.

"But," she whispered, "I convinced him not to erase my memories. Because I love everyone who I'd be leaving behind. And I can't bear knowing that I could live life without them."

He pressed his lips to her temple. Whether the gesture was romantic or platonic, he did not know. "And?"

"And so now I'm under an enchantment that I can't talk about the Order to anyone who's not directly in it. Which isn't nearly as bad." She was now drawing distracting circles on his collarbone with her finger absentmindedly.

"It'll be okay." He couldn't think of anything else to say, anything else to tell her, and he knew that it wasn't much comfort to hear him say that.

But would it be okay? It wasn't even true. At least for him, it wouldn't. And if he thought he knew Tonks, then he knew it wouldn't be okay for her either. She would miss talking with him, she would miss bantering with Sirius, and chatting with Molly or any of the Weasleys. She would be leaving the Order, leaving all of it behind. It was more than just the organization; she would lose all of the relationships that she had created with it.

And he would miss her to no end.

"No," she mumbled sadly, her eyes still thick with tears. "It won't. I won't be able to live knowing that I'm missing out on all this."

"You will," he told her softly, lifting her chin to meet her eyes. "You will be able to live. You'll still be an Auror, you'll still be the same person. You'll live knowing that you played a key part in the opposition to the Death Eaters."

"But I'm not going to be doing anything from now on," she pointed out. And then she added, in a much quieter tone, "I'm going to miss you."

He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "So will I."

They sat there together for who knew how long. It was just him and her, her and him, with each other for what seemed like the last few moments they would spend together. When Sirius came back into the room with a mug of tea, he found them in this position.

"Tea?" he offered hesitantly.

Tonks broke away from his embrace and turned to her cousin. "Thanks," she said quietly, accepting the mug and sipping slowly.

Sirius looked to him inquisitively, and Remus gave him a glance that he knew Sirius would understand. Later.

"Well," she said finally, after several minutes of silence but for the sound of her sipping tea, "I'm going to go home and… pack."

To his relief, Sirius didn't question. Tonks, reluctantly, he thought, slid off his lap and back onto the sofa. "Remus, thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"My pleasure," he replied slowly, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears, so he pulled her in for another hug. "Every moment spent with you is precious to me."

She finally broke out of the hug, wiping a last tear from her eye. "Thank you."

He helped her stand and escorted her to the front door, where Sirius followed them silently. Thank goodness Sirius still had enough tact left in him not to ask what was going on.

"Thank you," she repeated. "Bye, Sirius. I'll… visit again."

Remus nodded, sadness streaming through him as she left. As soon as the door closed, Sirius spoke.

"Go with her."

Remus wheeled around. "What?"

"Go with her. She looks so distressed. She needs you, can't you tell? Go help her."

He didn't need telling twice, especially when Sirius was the one telling him. He opened the door and rushed down the stone steps to the woman who had almost reached the end of the lane.

"Tonks!" he called, and she spun around to face him.

"Yeah?"

He reached where she was standing. "Would you like me to come with you?"

For the first time that day, a genuine smile made its way onto her face, even though it was small. Then she threw herself into his arms again.

"I love you, Remus, I love you so much," she whispered, and there was nothing comparable to the warmth that spread through him in that moment.

"Come," he said, and he slipped his arm around her waist. She took his arm and they disapparated.

They reappeared right outside the door of her flat, which was presumably guarded with multiple protective enchantments. After verifying her identity, the door swung open, and together, they entered her flat.

It was nothing like the way he would keep a flat. Things were scattered about the room carelessly, but, for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, it seemed to welcome him like a home would.

"Sit, sit," she said, gesturing to the violet sofa. "D-do you want tea, or something, I can..."

"Tonks," he interjected quietly. "I'll be fine, I promise. Do you want something?"

"No, no, you're the guest," she protested weakly. "I can take care of…"

"No," he cut in firmly, "you are going to sit."

She plopped onto the couch, devoid of all energy that she usually possessed. "Thanks."

"Do you want something to eat? Something to drink?" he asked concernedly.

"Water?" she suggested meekly. He nodded and went to the kitchen, where he filled a glass of water for her. He returned to the sofa, holding the glass up to her mouth for her to drink. She indicated for him to sit, so he did, right next to her, and she took a long drink.

After a few heavy breaths, she leaned on his shoulder. "I can't thank you enough."

He put his arm around her, taking comfort in the warmth that spread through him as he did so. "You don't have to. I'm doing what any friend should."

"I really love you, Remus," she mumbled. "You're the best friend anyone could ask for."

He had less than two days to spend with her, and he would gladly spend it all cuddling on the sofa. But as much as he wanted to sit cuddled up on the sofa with her forever, he knew that she ultimately needed to pack up and return all of her Order material.

Thankfully, she seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Er, well, I should… get packing…"

"Right," he said, awkwardly removing his arm from around her as she stood up and started fumbling around in various places for files and scrolls.

"Is there anything you want me to do?" he asked gently, looking around at the room.

"No, it's fine," she replied distractedly, tossing stacks of parchment onto the coffee table. "Actually… can you go into my bedroom and get the file that's on my bed?"

"Of course," he assured, secretly glad that she trusted him to do so.

At first sight, he knew the bedroom belonged to her. The walls were painted a bright yellow, which was on first impact blinding and on second impact beautiful, and her bedsheets were a deep crimson that resembled everything happy he could imagine. Peace. Joy. Happiness.

It really was the wrong time to first come to her flat. A time of sorrow, a time of endings, saying goodbye when you didn't need to. It only stung him more to think that this was what he was going to miss. This was what he wasn't going to have once she was gone.

Enough, he chided. She needs your help right now.

So he picked up the file that lay on the edge of her bed and walked back to the living room, where she was sorting through things carefully.

"Thank you," she said, as he handed the file to her. He sat down next to her.

"Anything else?" he asked politely.

She shook her head, her strawberry-red hair bouncing around her. "I'm good."

"Good," he said, tenderly running his hand through her hair, marvelling at how soft it felt. "Let me help you."

So, he sat side by side with Tonks, on the ground next to the coffee table, sorting through her various files to see if there was anything Order-related that she needed to return.

It still felt like a cruel dream. It hadn't registered in his head. Tonks was leaving the Order. He wasn't going to see her anymore. He still couldn't come to terms with the fact that she was leaving.

The bright, cheerful force in his life, that he was now pretty sure he fancied, was leaving.

After around an hour, everything was neatly sorted into three piles: Ministry, Order, and both. It was amazing; he had thought that everything was cluttered around somewhere, but she apparently knew where each and every file was located. Maybe she was organized, in her own way.

"All right," she finished with a yawn, "we're done. I need to get back to Hogwarts tonight, so I'd better get going."

"Will you be alright?" he asked, standing up as she did.

"Yeah," she said, even though she was still lacking the energy that normally filled her. "Well, I'm... going to go change. I'll be back in a second, yeah?"

"Of course," he assented, and he was left to his thoughts again as she headed into her bedroom, thinking, for what must have been the millionth time, how sorry he felt for her.

A rapping sound on the window caught his attention. It was a brown owl, one he had never seen before. He knew he shouldn't be answering her mail for her, but the owl seemed insistent, and, besides, he knew she wouldn't mind if he did. So he raised the window and an envelope tumbled into his hands.

To Nymphadora Tonks

From Bruce Claris

To anyone it could have passed off as a normal letter. But Remus Lupin knew better.

Because Bruce Claris was a Death Eater.

Abandoning all previous thoughts, he ripped open the envelope, terror and fury seizing him.

Dear Miss Tonks,

I hope this letter finds you well. The matter that we discussed two days prior to today brings good news. Overall, there has been success. Could we meet today at eight in the night to discuss our earlier correspondence? If so, please let me know through owl. Have a wonderful day.

Yours truly,

Bruce Claris

Two days prior. Good news. Success. Earlier correspondence.

He sunk to the floor, unable to believe. Unable to think. Unable to feel.

He had been wrong the entire time.

A/N: Well... That's that. How will Tonks react? Coming up in Chapter 25!

MARK YOUR CALENDARS! On Monday, I will start posting my next fic, Prisoners. It's a POA-era Remadora story, and I think you'll enjoy it!

Speaking of Valentine's Day (because we were totally talking about Valentine's Day?), I also recently published a Remadora Valentine's Day Oneshot called "Of Wizards, Witches, and Their Valentines." If you're interested in reading it, I'd be delighted! Head over to our profile to check it out.

And finally, for anyone who reviews my stories, I will return the favor by reviewing your stories (if you've written anything). We need to help each other out!

So if you haven't gotten the hint yet, PLEASE REVIEW! Hope you enjoy the chapter... and I'm sorry about the cliffhanger! :)