Hello all! I just had this idea about Remus and Tonks and I think it's actually quite decent. I hope you enjoy.
Also, I don't know Remus' exact age, but I always suspected him to be in his late thirties. And I'm guessing Tonks is in her early twenties. Am I wrong?
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"I invited dear Tonks to come along today," said Mrs. Weasley, setting down the carrots with unnecessary force and glaring at Fleur. "But she wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?"
"No, I haven't been in contact with anybody very much," said Lupin. "But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"
"Hmmm," said Mrs. Weasley. "Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."
-Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
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Tonks shuffled into her room, despondently closing the door shut behind her. It was chilly, the window open so that the room could have a bit of air. She shrugged off her cloak and walked towards the window. Christmas jingles played softly throughout the streets below, and snow was falling gently down and covering the village in a surreal blanket of white. The streets were empty, and she could see through a few of the house windows families gathering for the holiday. It wasn't often these days that Tonks was able to see so many people so happy, even if it was only for Christmas. It seemed no one was going to be alone that evening.
Tonks grimaced. No one except herself, to be exact.
And we all know who's to blame for that, a knowing voice rang through her head. She sighed; now was definitely not the time to be thinking of that idiot. She closed the window firmly, the latch clicking into place. She headed towards her dresser, passing the mirror with an almost dread. Normally she enjoyed what mirrors had to say. They always seemed so shocked at her for doing things…differently. She used to revel in it, and often it was what the mirror found worst that she wore the next day. But now that she was decidedly more boring to look at, mirrors rarely took the time to comment on her appearance. However, the mirror in her Hogsmeade room was thrilled with the fact that she was not only plain but also obviously depressed, and somehow managed always to comment on her sad state.
"You look a bit peaky, dearie. Not that that's different. Lover's spat got you down?" the mirror cackled. Tonks shot an annoyed glare at the pane of glass, the glass that reflected her plain hair of mouse and her deadened expression. Heart-shaped was her face, her skin a pasty white, her eyes a lifeless mahogany. She absentmindedly put a hand to her locks of brown and patted them, as if to affirm that yes, she was in fact projecting her miserable state with her physical appearance.
Not that she'd do anything about it now.
She grabbed her most comfortable jumper, deep navy only illuminating her pale skin further, and threw it on. It was a tad big, the edges of the head opening threatening to fall down the slopes of her shoulders, but it was baby-soft, a caress of fabric and an envelopment of warmth.
With a flick of her wrist, a nice, big fire roared in the hearth. It immediately brightened the room, giving it a nice, healthy glow. The flames crackled and hissed and twisted and turned and it looked so alive that for a second, it almost made Tonks feel alive as well.
The temperature of the room now tolerable, Tonks flopped onto her bed with a sigh. A glance at the clock told her it was now eight o'clock, and she allowed herself a small smile. The Weasley get-together would be in full swing by now, and it was probably immensely cheery over at the Burrow. Tonks could see it so clearly. That Delacour girl would be strutting around the kitchen as if she owned it, most likely to the chagrin of Molly, who would probably try not to snap at her, and yet send the young Veela hateful glares as often as she could get away with. All the Weasley boys would clamor to get the blonde's attention, and Harry would just look embarrassed for Ron, while Hermione and Ginny would look as if they wanted to strangle him. And then the other members of the Order would come, Mad-eye and Rem—.
A sharp knock on her window rang clearly through the still air, and Tonks sprang off the bed, thankful for the sudden disruption. Perfect timing, she thought grimly, opening the latch she had just closed a moment before. The owl flew in quickly, almost knocking Tonks over in its quest to find dryness. A beautiful tawny hue, it dropped the letter into her hands and settled itself on her desk. It slowly ruffled its feathers to get rid of excess snow, and gazed at Tonks in a dignified manner. It preened slightly, obviously pleased with itself, and Tonks distractedly petted the bird before looking back at the envelope to see who wrote to her. And then she groaned.
Your Favorite Dawlish it read on the front. She picked the envelope open with a growing sense of doom. She had learned the hard way that Dawlish was, in a word, persistent. "I really could do without this right now," she muttered to herself, eyes scanning the letter.My dear Tonks,
It just will not do to have you in your room all by your lonesome on this fine Christmas day. Do you really think I'm going to let you walk right past us up to your room to sulk on Christmas day? I must insist that you come down once you get this letter. What say you and I play a nice, safe game of Wizard's Chess? No harm in that, eh? Come on, Tonks. It's Christmas! And no, I won't proposition you (not today at least, tomorrow perhaps). So no need to worry, Proudfoot and Savage will be here as well. Please don't hole yourself up there tonight. And you do realize that this letter is just so I can pretend to be polite. If you're not here in a quarter of an hour, I'm coming up. And if you're going to force me to come upstairs, then please wear something sexy and revealing so that I may enjoy myself at least. I better see you soon!
-The most dignified and devilishly handsome Dawlish
PS: Tonks, Tonks, Tonks. You should know by now that I never take no for an answer. Just a warning.
PPS: Hurry, my fair maiden. Rosmerta's baked an enormous cake. It's gargantuan, really. Yet still quite tasty. (And yes, recognize and embrace the blatant bribe. Ta!)
Tonks scoffed, trying desperately to suppress a smile. Dawlish really was a character. A man in his mid-forties, Dawlish was tough-looking, had gray, wiry hair, a thin face, and a ridiculously jolly persona. As an old bachelor, he had made it his personal goal to jokingly ask Tonks for sexual favors almost every day (or, at least she hoped he was joking). She, in return, would crack a smile and remind him of their age difference. Not that she could talk, what with loving a certain lupine man who wasn't much younger.
But still, it was nice to know that someone desired her and actually wanted to be with her.
But wouldn't it be nice if that someone wore sweater vests and was a total nerd and was indisposed once a month due to a certain illness involving wolves? said the voice in the back of her head bitingly.
She thought back to her group. Of Savage and Proudfoot and Dawlish. They weren't the first people she would've chosen to work with, but they were okay once she got past their quirks. When on the job, they were all focused and attentive to the point of being anal-retentive. Once upon a time, Tonks would've pulled her beautiful bubblegum pink hair in agony, but now she just didn't care.
Off the job, they were completely different people. Savage was a chain-smoker, going through a good few packs a day. It mildly annoyed Tonks; after all, second hand smoke killed just as effectively. She had once entertained the thought of asking him why on earth he would have such a ridiculous codename as Savage, but the desire to inquire seemed to just dissolve from her being. Besides, he didn't look like he would appreciate being asked. Proudfoot was classically handsome, golden hair and an angled face, which made up for his perfectly stony (and boring) personality. It was no secret that he had been through quite a number of the girls here in Hogsmeade already.
And then there was Dawlish. Typical bubbling pervert, who enjoyed alcohol way too much for his own good. Not that he was an alcoholic, but when he indulged, he always went out with a bang. And he always managed to find double entendres in everything. He was just that type of person.
But she was grateful to the Auror. He reminded her that she was actually still living, and that she couldn't just drift around in a daze and get away with it. She hesitantly responded to his jokes and he understood. He just did. She supposed it was that he had had more life experience or something wise and ancient like that.
He almost let her forget Remus at times.
Almost.
A tentative knock sounded on the door and her head snapped upwards. Didn't Dawlish say fifteen minutes? she thought angrily. But then again, this was Dawlish. He wasn't known for being patient when not working. The knock sounded again and she exhaled deeply, breathing through her nostrils. GO AWAY.
She strode over to the door and fumbled with the knob, "Goddamnit, Dawlish! I'm not in the mood—"
And the door swung open.
Just perfect. The one man that managed to totally destroy her was here in front of her bedroom. On Christmas of all bloody days. She closed her eyes, praying to God that if he made Remus leave right now she'd go downstairs and actually try to enjoy herself. "Oh fuck," she blurted, glaring at the man she loved. "Rem—what are you doing here?"
Remus' eyes quickly raked over her face and her body, his brows furrowing with concern. "You're not taking proper care of yourself," he murmured. He swallowed audibly and started to say something, but paused, "You could get ill."
Tonks stared at him. He had come here, probably straight from the Burrow, to reprimand her for not eating properly? So what if she couldn't manage to take in more than a couple bites each meal? So what if she always felt sick and restless? An indescribable anger rose in her throat and she scoffed, "I don't see anyone here who cares."
His eyes tightened with something akin to pain, "I do."
And then Tonks was left with the urge to cry. How could he do this to her? Bend her back with simple words that wouldn't have mattered if they came out of anybody else's mouth. There was, after all, a reason she was avoiding Remus. She bit her lip, bringing a hand to her head to massage her temple. "Not the way I want you to." Remus looked away and she sighed deeply. "Is there a reason you're here? I thought you were supposed to be at the Burrow."
He gazed back into her eyes; those warm cinnamon eyes that always made her melt into putty. "May I come in?"
She hesitated, she was supposed to be avoiding Remus and the fact that he didn't want to be with her, not welcoming him. But then those eyes stared into hers just a second longer, and she stepped back so he could walk in.
Madam Rosmerta graciously let the four have their own rooms above The Three Broomsticks free of charge. They were a bit on the small side, but overall they were decent accommodations. Her room was rather simply decorated, consisting of a dresser, a mirror, a desk and chair, and a bed. Remus took this all in, eyes wondering slowly over the room. Finally he took off his cloak and sat himself down by the desk. Tonks busied herself with petting the owl one last time before letting it out. She took her time closing the window again, as it gave her something to do, a reason to look away. God, she couldn't deal with this right now. She had planned on having a nice, boring, lonely Christmas. The last thing she'd expected was Remus. Though, hadn't she hoped for him to come? The window finally closed, she perched herself on her bed, fingers splayed against the covers, twisting the fabric deliberately.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence until Remus coughed, "Were you expecting company?" She looked at him, surprised. He gestured toward the door. "Dawlish, I mean. You didn't seem too pleased."
Tonks looked down at her feet. She had never noticed before, but they were slightly big for her body. She frowned; why did she have to be so utterly plain looking? "He wanted me to come down to celebrate." Her head rose to meet Remus'. "You never answered my question. Why are you here?"
He stared unflinchingly back while he answered, a brave move on his part, for the words he uttered were anything but welcome to Tonks' ears. "Molly mentioned that you were spending Christmas alone, and, well…" he hesitated, "no one should be alone on Christmas."
Tonks resisted the urge to throttle the love of her life.
"Remus," her voice was glacial, "You are in no position to decide how I should spend my Christmas. Just because I let slip my feelings for you doesn't give you the right to decide what I should do." her voice was starting to rise, "What is this, a fucking pity party? You should go downstairs and join Dawlish."
Remus was unwavering. "I'm not here out of pity. I'm here because you have managed to successfully avoid me every time the Order meets or when Molly has a get-together, and you never have given me a chance to explain. I've been meaning to find you for a while, and Molly gave me the perfect excuse. You cannot spend Christmas alone. It's against the rules."
Tonks raised a brow. "What rules? Who says?"
Remus gazed at her, the edge of his lip quirking. The preface to that wonderful, warm smile Remus had. "I do."
Tonks managed to roll her eyes, relaxed yet tense in the presence of her love. "Well, that settles it then. After all, what you say goes."
"Absolutely." Remus nodded for good measure, and then his gaze turned wistful. "I missed this," he admitted shyly.
Tonks laughed harshly upon hearing his words, and when she spoke her voice was harder. "Yes, well you chose to pass this up, so don't you dare tell me you missed it."
Remus had the gall to look confused. "What are you talking about? You're the one who's been avoiding me."
Tonks glared at him, effectively shutting him up. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
At this, Remus faltered. He scratched the back of his head with a slight embarrassment and indignation. "Yes, well…you need to let me explain. You left before I could." He huffed nervously, "I've really made a mess of this, haven't I?"
She refused to look at him, staring resolutely at the corner of the bed. "A bit."
The next thing she knew, a weight was being pressed down on the bed beside her and all she could register was that the last time they were this close had been the best and worst time of her life. Remus made a move to grab her shoulder but thought against it, leaving his hand extremely close to hers. A second later her hand was in his, the warmth pressing into her palm. Suddenly, her mind shifted into gear.
She tried to pull away but Remus' grip was tight, the force stemming from the subtle and hidden strength a werewolf possessed. Remus' thumb was slowly stroking her pallid skin. "No, no," he shook his head, his expression adamant. "You need to hear this. I need to tell you this."
When she finally stopped attempting to get away, Remus' grip loosened. Remus stared determinately at her knee. "I—when you, I mean—" For a second, Tonks yielded to her inner girl. Remus really was quite an adorable man, especially when stuttering and nervous. He coughed, and then continued with a grim willpower she had to admire. Something told her that what he was going to say would be big, so she listened.
"When you admitted how you felt about me, I couldn't have been happier. Nymph," her mouth opened as she heard Remus' nickname for her. It had been so long since she last heard it, "you know I feel for you as well. But, well, God. There's so many things wrong with us loving each other and actually getting together." Her mind went totally blank. Yes, she had suspected Remus liked her back, which was the only reason she had acted. And then he had pushed her away. For six months she had thought she was wrong. For six months she had gone through torture, bolting every time his name was mentioned. Six months of insomnia and self-hatred and loathing.
And now he was saying he loved her as well? The reasons why they were wrong better be fucking monumentally horrible.
Remus continued, "Look at us, honestly. You're Charlie's age, still young and vibrant and beautiful," his eyes softened briefly before hardening once more, "And then there's me. Nymph, I'm a good decade older than you. You deserve someone young and handsome. I also can barely support myself, and haven't a sickle to my name. You deserve someone who can provide for you, who can lavish you with luxury and comfort. I can give you neither of these things. Not to mention the glaringly obvious fact that I am a very dangerous creature. Nymph, I—" he choked slightly before going on, "I'm a werewolf. I could hurt you, or kill you, or bite you. The terrifying possibilities are endless. And with this in mind, you deserve someone who won't want to devour you every full moon."
His admission was so simple and plain, yet it left her shaken to her very core. She barely realized she was beginning to cry as she gazed tearfully at Remus. She brought a shaky hand to her face to stymie the tears, but they didn't seem to want to stop.
Her voice was soft, now calm where before it was edgy. "Remus, do you honestly think I care about those things? These things are only technicalities, in my opinion. I'd fallen in love with you perfectly aware of who you are, Remus Lupin." Her throat was scratchy. "I love you, Remus. Yes, in spite of your issues, in spite of your age, your lack of wealth, and the fact that you are a werewolf." Now it was her turn to lean closer to him. Remus' eyes were a depthless pool of honey brown, and Remus was now looking at her with an awe that made her breathless. "I just don't care. I love you for you."
Instead of the awkward silence that had hung over them moments before, a nice stillness blanketed the room. It was a while before Remus cleared his throat, a faint flush on his cheeks. "Harry told me your patronus changed. He said it was big and had four legs."
Now it was Tonks' turn to blush. Oh god, he was never supposed to know about that, she thought frantically. "Is that so?"
Remus' expression was thoughtful. "Might I ask as to what creature your patronus now is?"
Tonks focused on the edge of his sweater vest; it was looking a bit frayed. "A wolf." Remus looked stunned and Tonks continued softly, "A werewolf, actually." Remus stared at her with surprise clearly etched onto his lined face. She attempted for some levity. "What, were you expecting something else?" But then again, he probably was. There was another four-legged creature that she had been thinking about constantly. Another canine that traumatized her every night. "Oh," she said quietly. "You mean Sirius."
Remus flinched, "Yes, that had been my first assumption." His brow furrowed and he shifted to face her completely. "Look, about Sirius, I'd thought the biggest reason we couldn't be together was obvious."
About Sirius? And suddenly all her past fears clutched at her throat, twisting and convulsing and mocking. She attempted to sound calm. "I already know about your history with Sirius, Remus. I thought you said it was in the past, though." Oh Merlin, she thought in panic, what if he wasn't over him like he claimed?
Remus shook his head violently, "No, it is. That was over years ago. I wouldn't lie about that." He jumped up from the bed and Tonks rocked back from the sudden movement of the bed. He started pacing, "But that's just the thing. If I could even entertain such thoughts about Sirius, then it's obvious then I am completely and utterly messed up. You're in love with a screwed up werewolf, a werewolf whose life has been wrapped around in darkness." He now looked helpless and lost, a little boy who doesn't know who he is. "You need someone who's strong, who represents light."
"No!" Remus cringed at her harsh tone. She stood up and grabbed his vest. "No," she repeated firmly. "I need you. You know that, don't just stand there and tell me differently. I told you already, I don't care about these things. They are a part of you, they are what mold you." She gulped audibly, "Are these the only reasons you have for pushing me away six months ago?"
She could remember it so clearly. They were in Grimmauld Place, just the two of them. Everyone else couldn't bear to be in the same house that Sirius had stayed for so long before he died. Tonks found Remus in the kitchen, where he was holding a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. It was there that they started talking about Sirius, just little things really. The way he chewed the ends of his hair when in thought, how he bit his lip when upset, the day Sirius decided that he needed a flying motorbike to make himself the coolest man alive. Those random anecdotes that brought pained smiles to their faces. Remus and Tonks talked for hours, slowly helping each other heal. It had been no secret that there was something between the two Order members, but both had never gotten around to doing anything about it. Their feelings were obviously real, and very palpable. And then Remus had confided in her that he had had a tentative crush on Sirius way back when. Though he had assured her it was all experimental and good fun, and left it at that. Then one moment they were discussing Sirius' obsessive-compulsive need to wash his hair, and the next, they were clutching at each other in a frenzied, mourning hurry.
She didn't know who instigated it, or how they started, but all she knew was that it was passionate and heady and God, Remus had a deceptively toned body beneath those baggy sweaters of his. He smelled like cigar and pine and so many delicious things. She grasped at his hair, pulling him forward, lips and teeth clashing with hers, tongues battling and pulling and teasing. Remus' hand skimmed her side with a trail of skin and goose bumps and the other kneaded the small of her back. And then she was being lifted onto the counter and pulled forcibly against him, legs wrapping under his hips. She groaned into his mouth and Remus' feral growl only served to excite her more. One of Remus' hands rose to cup her breast, thumb barely touching and circling, and his mouth dragged down her jawline to place harsh kisses and licks on her neck. Her hands snuck under his sweater onto his cool skin, all hard edges and soft body and it felt so sinful and good and delicious.
But when she had muttered those three horrid words, "I love you," it had ruined everything.
Remus pulled back faster than she could've imagined possible, wrenching away from her body with forcible quickness. He held her at arms length, trying to regain control of his breathing. She recalled that he was trembling.
"No," he gasped. "You can't. We can't." And then he bolted out of the room.
She remembered sitting on the counter, shirt still partly undone, still breathing heavily, and she could just hear herself shatter. She had been so sure that he felt something for her as well. So fucking sure. She had thought it; hell, even Molly had had her suspicions.
Obviously, she had made a serious miscalculation.
That had been the most wonderful kiss she had ever had. It was sexy and racy and passionate, and it was with the man she loved. It wasn't those shy kisses she shared with Charlie when they were back in Hogwarts, or those experimental ones with all those other boys. Not that they were bad, but this was real, and wonderful, and beautiful.
It was also gone.
Remus' light touch on her face brought her back to the present in a whirlwind. His index finger gently traced the edge of her jaw line, the appendage lifting her chin up so that she could face Remus properly.
"We cannot do this," his voice was deep, filled with regret. "I am too old and you are too young. I am too poor and you definitely don't need that burden. I am a werewolf and am a danger to you."
She cleared her throat. Breathe, Tonks, Breathe! "I believe you stated that already," she managed, haughtily lifting her chin.
His eyes bore down on hers. "I know. Nymph, You're too good for me. You deserve someone young and handsome and, well, better. And I, in turn, am nowhere near good enough for you. I don't deserve to be with anyone, and I especially don't deserve your love. You are in so many ways out of my league."
She stared at him incredulously. "Out of your league?" He couldn't honestly believe all this, could he? But the look of despair on his face told her that oh yes, he could. "Remus, this isn't a matter of who deserves what. This is a matter of how we feel. It isn't a matter of if we look good together, or if others approve. It's about love. I love you, Remus, and you, well, I mean, I think—" she faltered, but then Remus said those three words that she'd been dying to hear.
"I love you too."
It was rushed and so quiet she could barely hear it, but it was there. It made her heart swell and her knees wobble and she couldn't breathe anymore. She'd been waiting for that for months, and for sure, this time the anticipation was worth the event.
She could feel her cheeks tingle with warmth. "Well then, shouldn't that settle it?"
Remus cocked a lopsided, sad grin. "It should…"
"I sense a but coming," Tonks said flatly. "You still want to be noble about it."
"Nymph…"
She glared, albeit not too strongly. "Don't Nymph me. I've been waiting for that particular confession from you for months, and now you claim we can't do anything about it?" She put her head in her hands, "What can I do to make you see reason?"
Remus' smile was melancholy. "I suppose—" but he was cut off.
The door swung open, "I told you fifteen minutes, Tonksy honksy! You can't hide from papa!"
The three of them stared at each other, Remus and Tonks at Dawlish, who was clothed in a garishly bright red costume, and Dawlish at them, both sitting close on the bed. Dawlish squawked, and fumbled with the Butterbeer in his hands.
Remus was the first to recover. "Dawlish, good to see you again. How are you?"
Dawlish nodded dumbly in reply. "G—good, and you, Remus? I didn't know you and Tonks were close," his tone was innocent, but there was an undertone of accusation.
Remus smiled congenially, but was eyeing him with a spark of…something. "I was just visiting, it's been a while since the two of us could talk."
"Right," said Dawlish, obviously not believing him. "Talk."
"Yes," Remus replied, now somewhat stiffly, yet still outwardly pleasant. "So, if you could excuse us?" And then it clicked.
Is Remus jealous? A high-pitched voice sang through her head, Oh my god, is he actually jealous of Dawlish?
But as soon as she had puffed with joy at the knowledge, she immediately deflated. Yeah right. He's probably being protective, after all, that's what he's been trying to be with me since forever, the thought rang scathingly in her mind.
Dawlish's voice was also a bit cold, "I didn't want her to spend Christmas alone."
It was sort of amusing and exasperating, really, watching two men try to fight it out yet still be polite in front of a lady. They continued to glare at each other.
"Well as you can see," and Remus placed a hand oh her forearm. "She isn't alone. So if you could go now…" he left his remark hanging.
Tonks rolled her eyes. What Remus was doing was sweet, but it was sort of creepy seeing him so, so unRemus-like. It was time to cut in.
"Hey Dawlish," Tonks greeted, and Dawlish's eyes snapped to hers, softening just a touch.
"Hey babe." She could feel Remus stiffen beside her, the other hand creeping to grasp her waist. Tonks shivered; that felt good.
"If it's okay with you, Remus and I have to talk a bit more. I promise I'll be down when he's gone, okay?"
Dawlish looked surprised, "Oh, okay. And here I was, planning on dragging you down bound and gagged."
"So sorry to take away all the fun," she smirked.
Dawlish shrugged, "Maybe next time. Alright then, I'll see you downstairs?" Tonks nodded and he sent Remus a cold glance. "Remus."
Remus nodded fractionally. "Dawlish."
The door closed and Tonks let out an unladylike snort. Remus looked startled, "What?"
She shook her head, staring at him in wonder. "What on earth was that?"
"Ah," Remus scratched the back of head sheepishly. "Well, I'm a werewolf. We tend to get pretty…territorial."
Tonks laughed. Remus: territorial? Who knew?
He smiled and soon her laughter died down, leaving a comfortable silence. "Nymph," he started out, swallowing. "I know you disagree with me, but this just won't work."
At this, Tonks heaved a sigh. Remus was ridiculously stubborn sometimes. If he was that uncomfortable with it, there was nothing she could do to force him. "Fine." His head snapped up to stare at her incredulously. "Fine," she repeated, dead-panning, "we won't be together."
Remus nodded grimly and started to stand, but Tonks grabbed at the front of his vest. "Can I have one last kiss, then? One last kiss with us knowing how we feel?" Remus stiffened and she brought a hand up his chest to cup his neck. "Please, Remus? Please—" and then his mouth covered hers.
It was chaste, and she could feel him start to pull away but she held on tight. There was no way their last kiss was just going to be a peck, so she angled her jaw and let her tongue dip out just so and then they were kissing, really kissing. Instead of the fast, fevered kiss they had shared the last time, this was slow, deliberate, but easily just as brilliant. Their tongues entangled and mingled and touched and Remus gently raked his hands through her hair, that dirty mouse brown hair she had lamented only minutes ago. She pressed herself against his body and he moaned in her mouth and somehow they were lying on the bed and she could feel something hard against her thigh. Tonks pulled his sweater vest upwards, and let her hands creep along his back, rubbing small circles and then he was pulling away, setting his vest right and running a hand through his graying hair.
It was over so fast that she almost didn't know how to react. She sat up, breathing heavily and watching as he straightened himself out, paying careful attention not to look at her. When he did, it was with a pained expression that she recognized as the same one she had sported for months. He cracked a tiny, heartrending smile. "I'm sorry for all this."
And Tonks sighed, "Don't be." But it is his fault, isn't it? her vindictive voice chirped. Her joy at hearing that he loved her was now filled with a deep resentment. Anger for the werewolf that attacked him, that made him feel so guilty. Hatred for not being able to be with the man she loved. She swallowed, "I should be getting downstairs."
He took it as his cue to leave, "Right, I should be going too. Don't want the Weasleys to worry." But you make me worry all the time, she thought bitterly, did I even get to ask you about Greyback and the underground?
He fastened his cloak back on and headed towards. He looked back, a determined yet soft smile on his face. His eyes fastened onto hers. "Goodbye Nymph. Happy Christmas."
And they both knew that that goodbye meant a lot more for the both of them than it was supposed to. But she wasn't going to say goodbye. Not to him. They'd see each other again, and by God, she'd make him see reason.
"Happy Christmas, Remus."
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Author's notes:
I like run-on sentences. So sue me.
And speaking of suing, I hereby disclaim Harry Potter. It's all JK Rowling's.
If you liked it, please review and let me know. Thanks for reading!
:Kafka Dreams: