Nothing Like the Sun

Disclaimer: Same as before. No own, no money, no sue.

Notes: More angst, but a hint of what's to come, I suppose. Couldn't have done this without J.K.R. and the controversial Book Five. At least, I think it's controversial. As evidenced by the addition of a chapter, this will continue in a four-part series: Mourning, Last Light, Apogee, and Dawn. I'm not sure how fast they'll be done, but have a little patience.

The confusing line in 'Mourning' about the rather darker figure than Remus is used to seeing- a reference to Nymphadora Tonks, Metamorphmagus, in mourning; she darkened her hair and now reminds him of Sirius. (This was intentionally ambiguous, so if you have a better interpretation, stick with it and feel free to share.)

Summary: Testing out a new point of view- not making any promises though. What I will say is, whatever else, this is a non-romance fic. It's a story about loss and coping, not relationships, unless you count the hopeless or the loveless kind.

Thanks: To all who reviewed. You make this worth writing… well no, it's satisfaction in itself, but it's nice to be appreciated/get feedback. Kudos to those of you who spotted the Remus/Tonks, but rest assured this is a non-romance, which means no lovey happy ever after. To anyone who didn't see the slashy undertones… well, I guess the slash is underwritten enough, and it's meant to be that way anyway, so don't worry about it too much!

Nothing Like the Sun

Last Light

The price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings.

It wasn't as if life was dull. On the contrary, life was rather full of things that had to be done, and she rarely had a moment to herself. The Order needed her, the Ministry needed her, Harry needed her. She was needed to mind the house, which was painful; the horrible old bat in the painting refused to stop gloating about her son's death and it was getting everyone down. No strength of a Silencing Charm could even damper her voice a bit. There was always the cleaning out of the horrible house-elf's old den, and caring for Buckbeak. Then there was her "day job", the job of making sure someone was always covering Harry's "guard duty"… and then there was Remus.

Remus seemed to be the only one who did not need her, or, indeed, anyone. He was attempting, courageously but stupidly, she thought, to pull through on his own. She understood. After all, he and Sirius had, well- and Sirius had been the last of his truest friends. He had to spend his full moons alone. That did not require absolute and utter isolation, even after the incident with the house-elf. They all knew perfectly well that Remus had been in his right mind when he had done what he'd done; he'd been taking Wolfsbane right before their eyes.

However, the illusion of independence in a tide of emotion was lost on Nymphadora Tonks. She knew enough about disguises to know that Remus was hiding genuine heartbreak behind anger, frustration, self-loathing and desolation, and it was time that it came out.

He was in the courtyard again, in the same spot that he'd stood every night for a week, staring up at the sky. The moon was much smaller than it had been last time; Tonks felt that the very light of Lupin's soul was waning. Not for the first time since she'd met the werewolf, her heart went out to him. She supposed that she, as well as many other members of the Order, had something of a savior complex. It was odd to think that she'd chosen Remus as her damsel in distress. He was, in all his attitudes thus far, more like a demon.

She stood at the back doorway watching him as she always did, then, with the courage she had mustered only on his first nightly vigil, she stepped up behind him.

He noticed her this time, which was surely an improvement, she thought. It wouldn't do for him to get careless. "What can I do for you, Miss Tonks?" He was using his Professor voice again. It hadn't always irked her so, but then, she hadn't always found him so startlingly attractive. She didn't want to be his pupil.

"You can stop treating me like I'm one of your students, for one," she answered testily. "And stop pretending you're the only one who's emotionally distraught for another. It doesn't help that you keep shutting us out, Remus- we feel like we've lost you, too."

Though she couldn't see his face, she was sure there was a twitch of a sardonic, humorless smile upon it when he spoke. "If you object to the title 'Miss Tonks,' Nymphadora, I'm sure I can arrange to call you something else."

Terrible as it was, and as much as she hated the use of her pretentious first name, she was slightly relieved to hear him joke. "You can call me whatever you want," she returned fairly, "as long as you start being more considerate. I'm not a child, you know."

"Ah, but I am."

This dark accusation caused a swirl of bitterness to well up in her. So that was what this was about, was it? "In terms of emotional expression, yes," Nymphadora answered bluntly, ignoring the scowl she knew had appeared on his face. "Though I suppose that's not entirely your fault. Bloody biased, ridiculous, double-standard, unfair society." Her voice rang with conviction; she had put her heart behind those words.

Remus snorted. "Talkative, aren't you." It wasn't a question. His gaze never left the sky.

She replied with silence not because it was what he deserved, but because it gave him a chance to speak on his own. Some understanding of human (and even not-quite-human) psychology was always useful for an Auror- and a friend.

Even the great Remus Lupin had to crack sometime. "No stars again tonight," he said at last. He sounded particularly morose. Tonks looked up. It was partly cloudy, and only the half moon shone brilliantly through the haze. She was about to reply when Remus spoke again. "I always liked new moon best because of all the stars."

Privately, Tonks doubted that that was the real reason Remus liked new moon best. "Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not there." Remus' posture relaxed slightly, but he gave no audible reaction. Somewhat encouraged, she continued, "Just because something isn't visible doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Remus- you're a good man, and a strong one. But if you keep shutting people out, you're only going to destroy yourself from the inside."

There, she'd said it- she'd voiced the horrible, gut-wrenching suspicion she'd had for weeks. But although she had known Lupin for some time now, she was completely and painfully unaware of how he would react.

Lupin, too, was apparently having some trouble deciding. He was silent for a long moment, and Tonks held her breath as she waited. She had broken many things due to her physical clumsiness, but Remus himself was one thing she was not prepared to see shatter.

The silence turned out, thankfully, not to be the calm before the storm. He stayed staring at the cloudy sky above, as if searching for answers. She followed his gaze as a gap appeared in the cloud-cover, framing the moon. "Sirius used to warn me about that." He seemed to feel this statement needed to be qualified- "When I thought about my lycanthropy."

She nodded, bracing herself mentally for what she was about to say. "He loved you." It was barely more than a whisper. "When he came to visit all those years ago he talked about you all the time. He talked about the others, too, but even I could tell there was a difference. I just didn't know what it meant- I was only ten when he was arrested." It was hard to think about- the young, free Sirius she remembered. She missed him, too; he'd been part of the small family she knew and could accept.

Remus was quiet again for another long moment. She imagined that he'd closed his eyes and was remembering, as well. Finally- "Thank you, Tonks."

"Sure," she responded as cheerfully as the situation would allow. It had been a final comment- she knew that he wanted, needed to be left alone. She touched him lightly on the shoulder before retreating into the vile house.

That didn't keep her from watching for a moment longer as clouds rolled again across the sky, in front of the moon. Remus stood rooted to the spot, ever-vigilant, until they obscured the last light.

The ghosts of the tilt-a-whirl will linger inside of your head,
And the Ferris wheel junkies will spin on forever instead;
When I see you a blanket of stars covers me in bed.

- Mrs. Potter's Lullaby, Counting Crows