26 April 1996
"Bloody hell, I'm freezing," Tonks muttered. Remus felt her shift next to him and heard her rub her hands together; little ripples formed in the air where her movements disturbed her Disillusionment Charm.
"Don't fidget," Remus warned out of the corner of his mouth. "You'll blow our cover."
"Well, if I don't warm up somehow, my dear old aunties are going to find my cold, dead body in the garden tomorrow morning," Tonks quipped and, though he couldn't see her, Remus could practically feel her rolling her eyes. "Would that be better?"
Remus let out a soft snort, shaking his head, and a pleasant silence fell between them again. Remus returned his gaze to the enormous manor home outside of which he and Tonks had been hiding, keeping watch, for the past two hours. It was palatial, easily five stories high, with a large tower manning each corner—and every few minutes, Remus saw a new pure-white peacock strut past their hiding spot in the sprawling front garden.
The house was also certainly a Death Eater hideout, as the Order had deduced back in January. Remus couldn't imagine anywhere else in the Wizarding world that ten high-security Azkaban escapees could be hiding, unnoticed.
"Looks deceiving, doesn't it?" Tonks murmured, guessing Remus's thoughts. "You'd never guess the owners were a pair of radical, nutty blood purists."
A gruff laugh escaped Remus's lips before he could stop it. "You sound like Sirius."
"Where d'you think he learned it from?" Tonks whispered back, a smirk in her voice. "My mum was the one who walked out on these lunatics first, remember?"
Remus blinked, and a small smile spread across his face. A second comfortable silence enveloped the two of them for several, long moments, broken only when Tonks spoke again, her voice low and mournful.
"I'm really worried about him, Remus," she said softly. "Mum is, too. He looks more miserable every time I see him."
Remus swallowed heavily, keeping his gaze fixed on Malfoy Manor.
"He's just…sick of that house," Remus said quietly. "He was sure he'd left that whole world behind him at sixteen—and now he's back there, with no way out…"
Tonks sighed, quiet for a moment.
Then— "It must feel like prison all over again," she murmured into the night, and Remus's heart gave a painful twinge.
Silence fell over them. Tonks shifted beside him once more in an attempt to stay warm, and Remus felt her hand accidentally brush his arm. As she readjusted herself, Remus got a sudden, overwhelming whiff of her bergamot perfume. A prickling heat crawled up his face, and he was suddenly very glad for the Disillusionment Charm that he was under.
"Ah, well," Tonks said finally, exhaling deeply. "He'll be out of that damn house soon enough, his name cleared—he'll get to have the life he always wanted." She paused for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh. "Lucky for him, he's still handsome, isn't he, even after Azkaban?"
Remus's stomach clenched. Swallowing the bitter taste that Tonks's words had left in his mouth, he merely shrugged noncommittally. Then, he remembered that Tonks couldn't see him, and he cleared his throat.
"Yeah, well," Remus said gruffly, "he always did get the women. I suppose Azkaban wouldn't have changed that."
Tonks didn't respond. For the fourth time that night, a long silence stretched between them. Remus focused his gaze on Malfoy Manor, on the gleaming obsidian tiles that lined the front door of the mansion. He could hear Tonks's even breathing next to him, and he found himself unable to turn and look at her, even though, rationally, he knew he wouldn't be able to see her.
"You know, Remus," Tonks's voice cut suddenly into Remus's thoughts, "you'd know perfectly well who I've fallen for, if you weren't too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice."
It took a moment for her words to sink in. But when they did, Remus's breath caught in his throat.
Hours later, Remus stood opposite Tonks on the rickety outdoor staircase of her London flat.
"Well, then," Tonks sighed tiredly, rummaging in her cloak for her flat keys. "I'm not looking forward to telling Mad-Eye that we spent six hours in the freezing cold outside Malfoy Manor and saw exactly zero Death Eaters."
Remus snorted humorlessly. "I knew this assignment would be a wash. I'm sure they all know the consequences of being caught outside—Voldemort's not exactly the forgiving type."
Tonks gasped, clutching her chest. "Really? And here I always thought he was a right saint."
Remus's lips twitched as Tonks's eyes twinkled. For the hundredth time since he had heard them, his mind wandered back to the words Tonks had said, just hours earlier. "You'd know perfectly well who I've fallen for, if you weren't too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice." He was sure, now, that he had misunderstood her, that she had meant someone else. He was determined to push the memory to the deepest, darkest, least inhabited corner of his brain.
"Thanks for apparating me home," Tonks mumbled, stifling a yawn in the crook of her elbow as she fumbled with her keys. "You didn't have to, you know."
Remus rolled his eyes. "You've yawned four times just since we've walked to your door."
Tonks raised her eyebrows, all traces of exhaustion disappearing from her face as she turned and faced him fully, braced against her front door with her arms crossed. "Watching me that closely, were you?"
Remus opened his mouth, then shut it again quickly, his mind stuttering to a screeching halt at the look emerging on her face, which seemed to burn from every inch of her, from her dark eyes, up into her brilliant pink hair, down to her lips…
"Remus."
Remus jumped, looking into her face and realizing, far, far too late, how close it was to his. Had she moved, or had he? He couldn't remember, couldn't think, not when she was this close, so close he could smell that damned perfume again, feel the tangy citrus scent piercing his skin…
"Remus…" Tonks's voice tapered off into a whisper, and, swallowing deeply, he met her eyes again.
And then, suddenly, her back was pressed against the door, and his lips were coming down over hers, and whatever last inkling of good sense had been willing him to stand back was gone, entirely gone, because Merlin, he couldn't believe this, couldn't believe her, couldn't believe she was real…
One of his arms came around her waist, fingers spreading wide over her ribs, pulling her closer, needing her. The other slid up her jaw, into soft pink hair. Despite all of her clumsiness, there was nothing clumsy about this, about the way Tonks's lips moved with certainty against his, with a possessive fire that matched the heat in her eyes, her fingers gripping at him desperately, as though worried he might slip through her hands. A low, shuddering groan escaped his throat before he could stop it, and suddenly, her fingers were tangled in his hair, her breath hot on his neck as she whispered the words in his ear that he had only dared to imagine in his wildest, most unbridled dreams, the ones he had sworn to himself he would never act on, never dare pursue. But here she was, making it impossible to remember why, why he had deprived himself of this feeling for so long, as she told him just how long she'd imagined it, too, just how hard she'd fallen, how long she had hoped, and dreamed, and wished for him, just as he had for her…
He was slowly growing delirious. Her lips brushed down his throat, her hands clutching desperately at the lapel of his cloak. Her breathing was raw and ragged, filling the silent air around them, and it was with a jolt that he realized his own breaths were matching hers for every sigh and gasp, their hearts hammering in unison, like fists on opposite sides of a door. He was losing control in ways he had never, ever believed possible, and she was giving him permission to lose even more…
And it was this thought, at last, that seemed to spur his mind into action—it was this thought that forced him, against every inclination in his body, to reach up and grasp her shoulders, pushing back, pulling away. The distance between them felt suddenly large and unfathomable, as though he had stepped back several yards, not mere inches.
Tonks's face was flushed, her lips swollen, her expression manic, disbelieving. "What are you—?"
"I can't," Remus said hoarsely, even as he felt every nerve in his body reeling. "I…we…we can't."
"What d'you mean 'we can't'?" Tonks growled, her voice low and dangerous. "We just were!"
"It…it was a mistake, a lapse in judgement," Remus rasped, taking another step back. "It was—"
"It was entirely mutual, and don't you dare say otherwise," she said sharply, looking suddenly furious as she stepped forward, crackling with anger. "Tell me you've not thought about this as long as I have. Tell me you've not wanted this, Remus, I swear—"
"It doesn't matter what I want," Remus interrupted loudly, and Tonks froze. "I have to go. I'm sorry, Tonks, I'll explain later, I…I have to go—"
"Remus—!"
But Remus was gone, had already turned on the spot, into the suffocating darkness of apparation, hoping, praying that the crushing sensation might snuff out the intensity of his feelings, his thoughts, not allowing himself to dwell on the fact, of which he was certain, that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.
He just didn't know yet if that mistake had been giving in or giving up.
30 April 1996
"Can't we just do a raid?" Moody asked gruffly, eyeing Snape with dislike. The two were sitting on opposite ends of Grimmauld Place's long kitchen table, where Snape had just delivered his most recent report. "What are we waiting for? If we know they're all hiding at Malfoy's place—"
"If we ambush the house, they will know how much we know," Snape interrupted, gazing at Moody with just as much distaste. "The only advantage we have right now is the information we have—with the Azkaban break-out in January, they outnumber us, and their numbers are only growing."
Moody grunted disparagingly, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "I still say it's worth the risk if we're able to take out at least two or three of those bastards," he muttered. He glanced at Snape, his mouth thinning. "I suppose you'd have to fight with them, eh? Don't think I'll go easy on you just because I know you're a spy."
Snape swelled in indignation, his pale face flushing with color, and Remus had to bite back a smile. He caught Tonks's eye across the table, and she smirked at him. Almost at once, his stomach filled with that familiar rush of warmth, that terrible, terrifying yearning to be near her, consequences be damned. Abruptly, he looked away, his chest tightening with shame.
"I think," Minerva cut in sharply, before Snape could begin hurling insults—or curses—at Moody, "if Albus were here, he would tell us to hold off on any raids until we're in a better position. So, Alastor, let's put a pin in that plan, shall we?" Moody looked like he wanted to argue, but Minerva didn't give him the chance. "Next item on the agenda," she continued briskly. "Dedalus and Hestia—have you managed to acquire any information of interest from your foreign contacts?"
And with that, the meeting heaved along for another half-hour, and Remus found his attention fading in and out. Order meetings without Dumbledore, which had been more and more frequent since the headmaster had left Hogwarts, always felt slightly forced. It had never been clearer just how much of a leader Dumbledore was in the organization.
As far as Remus knew, the headmaster was still giving Minerva, Moody, and Snape directives from wherever he was—and when he did stop by Grimmauld Place, he always entrusted Sirius with a few messages to pass along to the others. But for the most part, the Order was continuing to do the same things it had been doing since July. Which left Remus with far too much time in the day to think about Tonks, of her dark, fierce eyes, the heat of her breath, the feel of her fingers tangled in his hair, every bit as unruly and chaotic as the rest of her…
For a second time, he glanced across the table at her and was startled to find her already watching him steadily. Feeling his neck grow hot, Remus quickly returned his gaze to Molly and Arthur, who were now presenting about a recent overnight reconnaissance trip to an old Death Eater safe house in Avebury.
When Minerva announced the meeting's end, several minutes later, Remus was one of the first to get to his feet. He exchanged hurried goodbyes with Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance on either side of him, and he didn't even bother with a response when Snape muttered a snide comment about the upcoming full moon to him on his way to the basement stairs.
Remus was halfway up to the main floor when he heard Tonks's voice behind him.
"Remus!"
Remus froze, closing his eyes. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned around.
Tonks was staring at him evenly from the foot of the stairs, her dark gray eyes serious; Remus felt something in his stomach twist up under her gaze.
"Can we talk?" she asked, stepping toward him.
Remus swallowed, averting his eyes. He took a step backward. "Not tonight, all right?"
5 May 1996
The basement kitchen reeked of firewhisky. Remus wrinkled his nose as he stepped slowly around the kitchen table, glancing around. Four empty bottles littered the tabletop, and several unrinsed scotch glasses were piled up around the sink.
Suddenly, there was a scuffle of footsteps from behind him, and Remus turned to see Sirius enter the kitchen, his eyes bloodshot and his stubble overgrown. He was wearing the same robes Remus had seen him in two days earlier.
"Thought I heard you come in," Sirius muttered, plodding past Remus toward the liquor cabinet. "Want a drink?"
Remus stared. "It's noon."
Sirius just grunted. "So?" he asked. "No meeting today—no one around to judge me, is there?"
Remus didn't know what to say to this. He had long-suspected that Sirius only ever bothered cleaning up his appearance when there was an Order meeting to clean up for, but it was rather like a dull blow to the chest to see his suspicions confirmed.
"Tonks stopped by, looking for you," Sirius added. Remus stiffened, staring at Sirius—but his friend looked quite unconcerned as he sat down at the kitchen table with a new bottle of firewhisky from the cabinet.
"Did she?" Remus asked, in what he hoped sounded like a perfectly neutral tone. "I'll send her an owl, then."
Sirius didn't respond to this, and Remus took this as his cue to leave his friend to his own thoughts. However, just as Remus was about to turn and duck out of the kitchen, Sirius spoke again.
"So, your plan is just to ignore her until she gives up on you, is it?"
Remus froze in his tracks, his heart skittering. "What?"
"I'll tell you, mate, that might have worked on Mary Macdonald back when we were fifteen, but Tonks isn't going to let this go that easily," Sirius said in a conversational tone; he might have been talking about the weather. "Trust me—if she's anything like her mum, you're in for it."
Remus gaped at Sirius, at a loss for words. But Sirius, it seemed, was nowhere near running out of things to say.
"You're being perfectly unreasonable about this, of course," Sirius said offhandedly. "Same as you were back at Hogwarts with Macdonald. But then again, who am I to judge?" he finished sarcastically, raising the glass of firewhisky he'd just poured for himself. "Cheers, mate."
It was several, long moments of watching Sirius refill and drain his glass before Remus found that he was able to speak coherently again.
"You don't understand," he told Sirius.
Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Explain, then."
Remus clenched his jaw, put off by Sirius's disparaging tone. "She's barely twenty, Sirius," he ground out. "It'll never work."
Sirius just snorted, pouring himself another glass. "Tell me that after you've tried, Remus."
"Tried?" Remus demanded incredulously, advancing toward the kitchen table. "I can't just…you don't—there's nothing to try here! I'm a werewolf—"
"As if you'd ever let anyone forget—"
"Are you joking—forget?" Remus said in a rage, curling his hands into fists. "Are you really as selfish as you sound?"
Sirius glowered at him, setting his scotch glass down with much more force than necessary. "Do not call me selfish for thinking that, just for once, you'd actually let yourself be happy," he snapped.
"You are selfish," Remus spat, narrowing his eyes. "You must be, if you genuinely think that I would ever, ever try and inflict my condition—my life—on a woman who is thirteen years my junior—!"
"She's not a child, Remus," Sirius said heatedly, standing up so suddenly that his chair screeched backwards. "She's perfectly capable of looking after herself—!"
"I don't want her to have to look after herself!" Remus bellowed, his voice rising so dramatically that it echoed off the kitchen walls. "I don't want her to have to worry about anything—anything—she doesn't have to, least of all, me!"
A ringing silence followed these words, as Remus and Sirius both glared at each other from opposite sides of the kitchen table. Remus's heart was pounding against his throat, which felt raw and rough from shouting; his rage was consuming him.
"You're an idiot," Sirius hissed finally, crossing his arms.
"You're drunk," Remus shot back, glowering at Sirius.
"Oh, just do us all a bloody favor," Sirius spat, pulling his chair out abruptly and dropping back into it, "and go shag Tonks."
Remus didn't spare Sirius a second look as he stormed from the kitchen.
9 May 1996
Remus pushed Tonks back against the bookshelf, groaning as he felt her warm fingers against his bare chest; she had ripped several buttons off his shirt in her haste to undo them earlier. "Tonks, we shouldn't…"
"Don't talk," she gasped, her eyes fluttering closed as Remus's lips found her neck. Her head fell back against the bookshelf, causing an extremely heavy book to slip off the shelf and crash heavily to the carpet with a resounding thud. They both froze, staring at each other. Remus strained his ears, listening for footsteps, but there was only silence. He heaved a soft sigh of relief.
"I'll cast an Imperturbable Charm," he said hoarsely, drawing his wand. "I don't think Sirius needs any more trauma to cope with at the moment."
"We're defiling his dear old dad's library," Tonks said with a snicker. "I don't think he would find that bit particularly awful."
Remus smiled at her, shaking his head. But as he continued to gaze at her, his eyes flicking over her slightly swollen lips and heaving chest, he felt his smile begin to fade, that familiar mixture of guilt and horror starting to creep back in.
Tonks's eyes immediately grew sharp. "Nope," she snapped. "Don't talk—and don't start thinking either."
And before Remus could say a word, she had seized his collar and pressed her lips against his again, and Remus immediately felt his fight ebb away; he allowed himself to sink back into the fantasy, allowed himself to believe that this could actually be his life…
17 May 1996
Remus rubbed his sore neck, fumbling tiredly with Grimmauld Place's ancient door handle. Suddenly, he heard something rustle behind him, and he whirled around, drawing his wand in a flash.
Tonks's Disillusionment Charm lifted with a soft pop. Remus released a sigh of relief.
"Sorry—I didn't mean to startle you," she said, sounding guilty.
"Were you waiting for me to get home?" Remus asked suspiciously.
Even through the darkness, Tonks's glare was unmistakable. "Did you really think I wouldn't worry when Hestia showed up for guard duty instead of y—?"
"Shh," Remus hushed her, glancing warily up and down the deserted Georgian square. "Come on, get inside—and try not to knock anything over, Sirius is probably sleeping."
"Oh, ha, ha…"
Once they were safely in the hall, Remus waved his wand at the gas lamps, and they groaned to life. Tonks's heart-shaped face was suddenly thrown into light, and Remus saw her expression clearly for the first time—her jaw was set and determined. Remus's stomach gave a tiny lurch.
She gazed at him, unblinking, for another moment. Then, she took a step toward him.
"You've been keeping away from me again."
It wasn't a question, nor an accusation. It was worse—a statement, plain and unassuming. Tonks was waiting for Remus to explain himself.
He swallowed heavily, carefully avoiding her eyes. "Tonks—"
"Just tell me why," she interrupted evenly.
Against his will, Remus looked up and met her gaze. She was watching him expectantly, her gray eyes burning into his. "You know why," he said quietly.
Tonks's mouth thinned. "I'd like to hear you say it."
Remus stared at her, his heart pounding.
"Tonks…" he trailed off, hoping that she might fill in the unsaid words—but she didn't. Of course she didn't. "Tonks, I…whatever—feelings…we may have…I can't do anything about them anymore."
Tonks arched her eyebrows. "So you have got feelings. And here I was thinking that perhaps all I am to you is just another notch on your bedpost."
Remus gazed down at her, feeling sick to his stomach as he took in the impact of her words.
"You really thought that of me?" he asked quietly.
Her eyes glowed with desperation. "What was I supposed to think?"
He closed his eyes. "It doesn't matter—"
"And why not?" Tonks prompted, her voice hard.
"Tonks…you know I'm a werewolf—"
"I do, yes," Tonks said in a steely voice. "I've known since before I met you, and I've made it clear that I don't care. Anything else?"
Remus stared at her. Then, he shook his head.
"You don't under—"
"Oh, for Merlin—don't tell me I don't understand!" Tonks said furiously, stalking forward and jabbing Remus in the chest with her finger. "What I understand, Remus, is that you've been running hot and cold for almost a month, now, and that it's been destroying me inside. Believe it or not, I'm old enough to recognize that you're not avoiding me because you actually want to end things, so don't play stupid with me! I'm a very good Auror, Remus—I know what I'm seeing."
Remus had flinched away at the way she'd spat out the words 'old enough.' Gritting his teeth, he looked at her for a long moment.
"We can't have this conversation," he said firmly. "I'm sorry—Tonks, I can't even think…this isn't even something we can be discussing—"
"You keep talking about it like it's a disease!" she cut in angrily, her gaze burning fiercer than ever.
"Tonks…"
She reached out and seized his hand, shaking it. "It's not, Remus," she insisted.
Remus closed his eyes, desperately willing his brain to win out in the war it was raging with his chest. Tonks was too close, much too close—he needed to end this conversation—now—
"Not that I don't love the drama," drawled a familiar voice from somewhere above Remus, "but could we maybe continue this fascinating episode at a time that isn't three o'clock in the bloody morning?"
Remus's heart leaped into his throat, and he whipped around to see Sirius leaning against the banister of the first floor landing. He didn't need to wonder how much Sirius had heard; the infuriatingly smug expression on his friend's face said enough.
Swallowing, Remus turned back around to face Tonks. She looked slightly embarrassed, but was still looking at Remus with an expression of intense resolve. Remus couldn't meet her eyes any longer.
"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, extricating his hand from Tonks's grip and taking a step back.
Tonks made a noise of outrage, moving forward. "Remus—"
"Goodnight, Tonks," Remus interrupted quietly, turning and heading up the main staircase.
He didn't look behind him to see if Tonks had left—he couldn't bear to see the anger, or worse, the hurt, in her face. He didn't even meet Sirius's eyes as he passed his friend on his way up to his bedroom.
But as he walked by, he heard Sirius snort, "I thought Prongs was the only one who could eff things up this badly."
2 June 1996
Remus nearly collapsed into the foyer of Grimmauld Place at half past five in the morning, every limb in his body numb with exhaustion. The Portkey that Dumbledore had arranged to take him home from Moscow after the full moon had left him dizzy and disoriented, and the blinding pain behind his eyes and in the angry red cuts splayed across his right shoulder were making it very hard to walk steadily. He had to clutch the wall of the entrance hall for support for several moments, taking short, ragged breaths.
He oughtn't to have been shocked when he saw her emerge from the shadows of the basement kitchen, her pale, heart-shaped face lit up with worry. He knew, even through the haze of exhaustion, that he should have resisted when she drew a small but surprisingly strong arm around his waist and began guiding him up the main staircase, toward his bedroom on the second floor. He knew he ought to have protested as she stripped off the tattered right sleeve of his robes and withdrew a small jar of a blue balm from her pocket.
His brain was screaming at him—begging him—to pull away as she began applying the soothing blue cream across his tender, aching shoulder—but all the protests in the world died in his throat when he looked at her, at her brilliantly fierce gray eyes, which burned with compassion, and warmth, and something else that Remus couldn't bring himself to face.
Tonks murmured reassurances in his ear as she healed some of the shallower welts around his arms and neck with her wand, but Remus barely felt the familiar sting of skin snapping back together as he watched her through drooping eyes—her brow was furrowed in concentration, her jaw firm, her gaze beautifully serious…her hair was in those soft, natural brown waves tonight, fluttering in front of her face as she worked…Remus wanted to reach out and tuck a curl behind her ear…
The last thing Remus was aware of before he felt himself drift away completely was the gentle brush of her lips on his.
11 June 1996
"…and—well, it was exactly the same thing, Professor," Remus explained tiredly, shaking his head. "They simply don't believe Voldemort's back—and even if they did, they certainly don't trust me enough to allow me to even try and make a case for our side."
Dumbledore listened to this with a faint crease between eyebrows, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Then, with a small sigh, the headmaster turned and gazed for a long moment at the wall of the basement kitchen, where he had asked Remus to meet him that afternoon to discuss Remus's progress.
"Disappointing, but not unexpected," Dumbledore said finally. "It took me the better part of a decade to find willing spies among the werewolf packs here in Britain during the first war. Unfortunately, as time is of the essence now…"
"I need to prove myself quickly," Remus finished quietly. "Meaning…I'd need to join a pack."
Dumbledore didn't respond right away, gazing at Remus through serious blue eyes for several moments. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"It is a significant ask," Dumbledore said softly. "I do not expect you to have an answer for me at this time."
Remus stared down at the kitchen table. What Dumbledore was asking of him wasn't unexpected—it had occurred to Remus, several times, during his transcontinental travels around the full moons. But going underground meant cutting off ties, isolating himself—for if there was one thing Remus had learned from the last year he'd spent flitting between packs, it was that no werewolf would believe, for an instant, that he was anything but a wizard spy if he didn't leave everything behind him. Inexplicably, Remus thought of Tonks—of her dark, twinkling eyes, of her burning look…
He hastily pushed the thought away.
At last, Remus looked up and met Dumbledore's gaze, swallowing heavily.
"I could never associate with Fenrir Greyback's pack," he told the headmaster in a low voice.
Dumbledore bowed his head, his expression grave. "Nor would I ever ask you to."
Remus nodded. Then, jaw tight, he looked at Dumbledore. "I'll need to think about it," he said.
Dumbledore smiled.
15 June 1996
Remus said a final round of goodbyes to Bill, Molly, and Arthur, before closing Grimmauld Place's front door behind them. Then, yawning and stretching, he turned and walked back down to the basement kitchen, where Tonks and Sirius were nearly done cleaning up after the Order meeting. The meeting that night had ended with a small celebration for Tonks's twenty-third birthday, and the entire house still smelled faintly of fireworks—courtesy of the twins, whose joke shop already seemed to be thriving. Molly had been furious. Sirius had been delighted.
Sirius finished drying the last of the dirty dishes, then turned and flicked his wand at the rubbish bags that were gathered by the staircase. They rose a few inches in the air and began floating up toward the ground floor; Sirius followed them up, giving Remus a significant smirk as he passed. Remus shot him a dirty look.
Then, swallowing, Remus turned and faced Tonks. She was leaning against the back cupboards with her arms crossed, staring at him.
"Happy birthday," Remus told her softly.
Tonks blinked, and the corners of her lips tightened.
"Thanks," she said in a flat voice.
Remus gazed back at her, feeling his stomach sink to his feet at the stony expression on her face. After several more minutes of staring, Remus decided he couldn't take it any longer. Shaking his head, he took a step back toward the staircase.
"Well, goodnight, then," he said quietly. "I'll see you—"
"Oh, Remus, enough," Tonks burst out suddenly, her face flooding with color. "When will you realize that your tortured soul bit doesn't work on me?"
Remus stiffened. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize—"
"Is this how it's going to be from now on?" Tonks demanded angrily, stepping toward him. "You pretend that you don't have feelings for me, and I pretend that I believe you?"
Remus sighed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. "Tonks…you're not thinking clearly—"
"I am, Remus," she cut in, taking another step closer to him. "I am very, very clear on what I'm feeling, so don't even try and convince me otherwise."
Remus opened his eyes, swallowing hard. For a moment, he was lost in Tonks's brilliantly furious gray eyes; then, he pulled himself together and looked away.
"I can't…I can't give you what you deserve," he said in a low voice, staring at a spot somewhere beyond Tonks's shoulder. "I'm years too old for you—and it's far too dangerous to even—"
"What I deserve, Remus," Tonks said through gritted teeth, "is the truth. When are you going to give me that?"
Remus stared at her.
"Do you think this is a joke?" Tonks asked, stalking forward and seizing the front of his robes. "I'm not shallow, Remus!"
"Tonks, stop it," Remus said sharply, and before she could protest, he took a step backward. Tonks's hands fell away from his robes, and she gazed at him, her eyes burning in that beautifully familiar way; Remus's chest tightened.
"Why?" she spat, trembling with frustration. "Why push me out of your life? Am I so worthless?"
"No," he said harshly. "It's my life that's worthless, Tonks."
"So, what now?" she demanded tightly, blinking back furious tears. "What are you expecting to happen? That I'll give up on you as a lost cause and find someone else? Invite you to the wedding and pretend that this was all just a mutual misunderstanding?"
It was exactly what he was expecting, and the reminder was more painful than everything else she'd said combined. A vivid picture formed in his mind of Tonks, beaming with happiness in a white dress as she married a young, handsome, faceless Auror. He closed his eyes to the image. It was unbearable.
Something small and warm closed around his wrist, and he stiffened, opening his eyes to see Tonks standing in front of him again, her eyes shining with tears. "I won't move on. I can't, Remus, don't you see that? You can keep me at arm's length all you want, but you have to—you have to understand…it's not just you you're hurting."
A lump formed in his throat. His eyes burned. "Tonks, please…"
"I love you."
Remus's heart stopped as he met her gaze. The tears had spilled down her cheeks now, glittering in the low light of the basement kitchen. The sight went through him like physical pain. Remus ached to wipe them away, to pull her to him, to promise her that he would never hurt her like this again. But he couldn't. He couldn't make that promise. To anyone, but especially to her.
"I'm sorry," he rasped, gently pulling his hand out of hers. She blinked, a few more tears falling. "I'm so sorry."
Author's Note:
So, a little fun fact about my writing if you didn't know this already: Every one of my stories exists in the same universe/headcanon. So, if you decide to read any of my other Marauder or Remus/Tonks stories, you'll see a lot of the same details/ideas that are in this fic. Regarding this chapter in particular, a lot of the dialogue here between Remus/Tonks and Remus/Sirius was written nearly eight years ago, in a fun little Remus/Tonks drabble collection called "Flashes." :D Check it out if you're interested.
Love and hugs as always,
Ari
