a/n: one word: review.

and seriously, tell me if you like it or not. i don't know what to write about if you dont give suggestions.
every little comment would be appreciated.
8-)

"How's it going, Remus? Not in any sort of trouble, yeah?"

"Well, I can honestly say it's been much better."

I've been back for a day and a half. And still, there is no sign of her.

"Anyone worth the trouble to go through it?"

"Stuff it, Kingsley."

"My pleasure."

I had just shown up for the Order meeting, the first one of the month. Everyone had come up to me at least once, asking me if I've been doing good. Asking me if I'm in any way damaged. And a few times, asking whether I had any contacts with her.

Well, only Kingsley. Along with his smirk. I can smirk better. I just have nothing to smirk about at the moment.

There was a loud clatter as everyone tried to gather around the Weasley's living room; meetings were still being held there. In my opinion, we should have it someplace else. What's wrong with Grimmauld Place? We know now that Bellatrix can't take over it, as Sirius had left it for Harry. Why not use the house? It's by far much safer. The Burrow is easy suspect.

"Alright, alright," came a hoarse grumble from the living room entrace. We all quieted down as Moody had hobbled his way into view. But instead of taking post at the front of the crowd, he sat down with everyone else.

Our curiousity was soon answered as Albus Dumbledore swept gracefully into the room - he looked much thinner than usual.

Dumbledore took his place at the front, standing as he usually did so.

"Now, everyone. What has been on thy minds?"

That's just like Dumbledore. He never gets straight to the point - he's always asking what we're thinking of, waiting for us to get to the point instead. It lessened the twitchy mood around us all. If we were to freely discuss any topic first, we'd get better acquainted; there'd be less abruptness in the conversation.

"Everything's gone mad about the Ministry."

Arthur Weasley, who was sitting three seats away from me, had spoke. Arthur was sually the one who spoke first. It was a bit like a custom.

"They arrested Stan Shunkpike, for heaven's sake!" Molly cried, looking flustered.

There's an abrupt murmur around the room.

"They're going after the wrong people,"squeaked Dedalus Diggle, his face crimson. He was always nervous for some reason.

"Can't you put some sense into them, Albus?" Kingsley asked, his voice as slow as usual.

Everyone looked at Dumbledore for his answer. But he sighed and shook his head. "Rufus Scrimgeour will not listen to me. He is much like Fudge in some ways. He refuses to take in any suggestions. It is his first time as Minister - he wants to savour it. He is trying to build trust amongst his people. We must learn to trust him."

"Wait a bit," Bill Weasley suddenly said, scratching his chin. "So you're telling us that we're suppossed to trust some guy who just arrested a twenty-one year old Knight Bus assistant, who was probably just at the wrong place at the wrong time? You're telling us that we're suppossed to trust some guy who can't even track down a single Death Eater? Some guy who isn't doing ANYTHING, except trying to look busy, when really, all he's doing is recruitig supporters for what ever reason?"

"Yes."

And there it was. All simply said. Yes, we were suppossed to trust 'some guy who isn't doing anything', 'some guy who arrested a bumbling idiot of an assistant to the Knight Bus', and 'some guy who has it in for werewolves.' Oh yes, he has it in for werewolves. Deeply.

"Deedn't you even try talking to 'im, Dumbly-Dore?" Bill's girlfriend, Fleur Delcaour, asks, sounding puzzled. "Maybe eet would 'elp if you deed. Zere may be a reason why 'e is acting ze way 'e does."

"Yes, Ms. Delacour, I have tried talking to him." For the first time since the meeting started, Dumbledore has grown a weary look. It makes the rest of us feel troubled. If Dumbledore feels threatened, it just means everything's down the drain. Great.

"What did 'e say?"

Dumbledore paused. I think a bit of it was for effect. I can surely say it worked. "He said many things. But his main message was for me to get Harry to be his... how shall I put this?... Propaganda."

"What do you mean?" asked Molly, now looking concerned. She's not the only one.

"Propaganda. He wants Harry to voice his reassurance that everything would be fine. So that the public can feel relieved. He wants Harry to spill everything he has learnt from me. And I told him no. I won't let him spread false words to make everyone feel safe when we all know we aren't. Facing fear is the only way to make the people stronger."

"What did he say about that?"

"Oh, he offered me a few things. And told me Harry would get the best protection of the Ministry and whatnot. No point, really. Harry doesn't need protection. He's the protector."

Silence suddenly waved upon us all. Harry was the protector. Does that mean we are all destined to some sort of ill fate? That we'd suffer in the hands of Voldemort? That Harry must do something in order to keep us all safe?

The war is insane. Everything has gone insane these days. I've just learnt from this meeting alone that Stan Shunpike was arrested. It's quite silly, to arrest him. I mean, let's be serious for a second - would Stan actually BE a Death eater? I have high doubts on that - Stan was always a bit of a dunderhead. Why would Voldemort want a foolish kid in his ranks? Why would -

"Moving on to other things," Dumbledore said abruptly, wrecking my train of though. "Remus, how was your trip?"

I don't know how he could have called it a 'trip' It wasn't a trip at all. It was more of an... expedition. Well, no, expeditions are usually fun. A sort of... non-fun expedition.

"Fine," I mumbled, looking at my feet. I hadn't really counted on talking about my 'trip' with everyone in the room. Well, almost everyone.

"Sorry, Remus, could you speak up please?"

"It was fine."

"What happened?"

"Nothing much..."

"Well, 'nothing much' means that there IS a bit 'much' to talk about. So, let us all hear it, if you please."

I hate it when he does that. How he can put you on the spot so suddenly that you're lost for words. He did it to me often in the meetings. I never liked sharing much; I'm a private person. After all the years he's known me, Albus Dumbledore knows I'm not one for revealing anything. And yet, he's been making me pop the lid often.

I especially hate it when everyone looks at me like that, with their expectant expressions. Of all subjects to take up on, why this one? Why not more important ones, like whether we got any new recruits? Or if we've tracked down any Death Eaters? How about if anyone knows a bit of Voldemort's plans and why he's keeping quiet so suddenly after last year's commotion in the Ministry? Or better yet - where the fuck is Peter Pettigrew?

"When you're ready."

I look up at the Headmaster, who seems to be losing patience with every second I've stalled.

"I met Fenrir greyback."

There were confused whispers throughout the place; 'Who's Fenrir Greyback?'

"Fenrir," Dumbledore said, breaking the mutters, explaining to everyone, "is Head of the Werewolf clan underground. He is the most vicious of them all, seeking to attack children."

"Why Children?" Elphias Doge asked, sounding intrigued and scared at the same time.

"Because children are easy targets. And because they can grow up to hate 'normal' folk - people who are free of lyncanthropy. So that one day, werewolves would be treated with respect. He wants people to quail under his influence, and hopes one day, to conquer us all. Remus here, was bitten by the very same Fenrir Greyback as a child."

And once again, the murmurs start. But instead, they're going my way. People giving me peeks of concern, pity, and fear. In response, I ignore it all. I'm used to being treated this way; it's how it's been all my life. Somtimes, I don't really blame Fenrir for acting the way he does. Werewolves aren't treated with enough respect. We're as good as any other witch or wizard out there. Heck, sometimes we're even better.

"Anyway," I said, interrupting the commotion with a roll of my eyes. "It has been fully understood that many - if not all - are on the dark side."

"How do you know?" questioned Arthur, his brows knitting together.

"Well, for starters, Voldemort can offer them everything that the Ministry denies them of. They can gain - "

But my flow is intercepted by an alarming 'pop'. We all whip our heads towards the sound, and a second later, stands Nymphadora Tonks, oddly, unremarkable today. Her clothes looked plainer than usual, her face more thin and gaunt, and her hair - oh my, her hair. It's brown. And wispy. And all hanging. I have never once in my whole life seen hair as lifeless on her than now.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, looking frantic, apologetic, and frazzled. She was always one for new looks. "Got held up at the Ministry and all - Scrimgeour's giving me tasks that are beyond my expertise!"

"What tasks?" Moody asked, his eyes narrowing at her. She gives him the smallest of headshakes, obviously meaning 'I'll tell you later'.

"That's quite alright, Nymphadora," Dumbledore said smoothly, gesturing for her to take a seat. "We were just simply listening on Remus' - "

"Oh gosh - ! Sorry Bill!"

She seemed to have tripped over something causing her to fall. And Bill came down with her.

"Nono, it's okay, Tonks," Bill winced, getting up gingerly. He helped her slowly back on her feet.

"I am SO sorry, Bill! I didn't mean it!"

"No harm done. Here, there's a seat beside Fleur. Why don't you take it?"

Her face turns deep red, as she settles herself clumsily onto her seat. Fleur seems to have surpressed a smile behind her hand that covered her mouth, while everyone else shakes their heads, with a fond smile.

"As I way saying," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eyes, " We were listening to Remus' account on his mission. Do continue, Remus."

I turn my attention back to Dumbledore.

"Like I previously stated, Voldemort can give the werewolves what the Ministry has been denying them for centuries."

"What are these 'things'?" Moody had spoke, staring at me with both eyes. I don't like his magical eye. It makes his stare all the more intense. More creepy.

"Freedom. Equality. Secured job positions. Decent pay."

"And you know this for sure, lad?"

"Not exactly. But Fenrir keeps talking as if he's already at the top of the league concerning Voldemort. And since everyone else is too afraid of him to speak up, it's more than likely that soon, every single one of them would be in his ranks."

I don't understand how all the werewolves can be influenced by a single individual. They have their own minds. Sure, they don't have much freedom in the world, they're confined to themselves, and they're not trusting. But honestly, they have the right to their own opinions. They can make their own decisions. They shouldn't base their choices because Fenrir is threatening them. They're already as dead as can be, what with living alone underground with no company but a manipulative asshole of a leader. Why not just do the right thing for once?

I realize that the room is quiet, and everyone seems to be in deep thought. I don't know what they're thinking of. But I know it's along the same trail as my own thoughts.

"I must get going."

We all look up, surprised by the hasty remark. Dumbledore had swept his cloak on.

"I need to get back; there are a few matters I have to attend to. I apologize for leaving after so short a meeting. But I must go at once."

And with that, he stepped into the fireplace, and Flooed himself back to Hogwarts.

With Dumbledore's leave, everyone seemed to be disappearing from the Burrow.

"When are you going back?"

I turn around, facing Kigsley Shacklebolt. He has an inquisitve look about him.

"In four days."

"Not too long then."

"Not too long."

Kingsley and I have the most peculiar friendship. One that most people wouldn't understand. We can understand each other through hand gestures, raised eyebrows, certain looks, and most unspoken forms of communicating. We don't say much, Kingsley and I. And I guess we both prefer it that way, seeing as we aren't the articulate type. And we perceive each other perfectly.

Plus, he's a good person to talk to. I never have to express my feelings, something we're both uncomfortable doing. I just need to say a few things, and he would conceive the situation. And then he'd answer in the same manner. So, it's really great that we don't need to talk much. It's more of a companionable friendship. Something I've never really had with James, Sirius and Peter.

I do miss those three. They aren't Kingsley, but they were still like my brothers. Ones you fight with, wrestle with. How we always managed to get into trouble with each other, and get our ways out. We were like a pact - something that no one but the four of us would ever understand.

"Maybe a week." I looked around the room where some members still lingered about. My eyes fell on her.

"I see." I look back at Kingsley, where he resumes his smirk.

"What are you smirking about"

"Oh, nothing."

"Serious."

"Nothing. I swear."

"I know what you're thinking."

"What?"

"That I extended my stay because of Nymphadora."

"And it still amazes me how you can get away with calling her Nymphadora without being hexed."

I look over at her again, and she seems to be in deep conversation with May-Eye. She looks apprehensive.

"Go talk to her."

"I'm doing quite fine right now, thanks."

"Stop being such a wimp. Go talk to her."

"I'm not being a wimp!"

"Then go talk to her."

"About what? She probably hates me more than anything."

Which is probably true. I left her, denying her of my feelings. And even though I feel the same way as she, we both know perfectly well that nothing can happen. I mean, really, what can happen? What if one of us died? Wouldn't that just bring more pain and misery? She deserves someone young. Someone who, putting the war aside, can grow old with her, and take care of her at the most crucial moments. I know I'm not that person. I'm ten years older than she is. I am a potential danger; what if the wolfsbane potion stops working and I'd never be safe to be around? And I'm a poor man. I can never give her what her what she desires. I can't even give myself that.

"She doesn't hate you."

"Oh, and you've talked to her."

"A bit, yeah."

"What'd she say?"

"To sum it all up: you're a bloody moron."

"Like I said, she hates me."

"And like I said; no she doesn't."

"You just said she thinks I'm a moron!"

"Well, that's just my account on things. Maybe - "

"Hi Kingsley! Mad-Eye wants to talk to you."

We both immediately turn silent as Nymphadora appears beside us. She's making a point to ignore my presence, as her eyes are kept solely on Kingsley.

Kinglsye gives her a quizzical look, which she answers with a shrug. He slowly turns to leave, walking a bit stiffly.

She's right beside me. I haven't seen her in a month. I've been pining to talk to her for thirty days. I've been wanting to see her, to write to her, to laugh with her, to go get cake with her. And yet, all I seem to be doing is standing here, hands shoved inside the pockets of my robes, looking at a spot on the floor.

"So..."

Okay, so she's making the first move. It's alright. You can start some sort of conversation.

"What have you been doing?" I asked, finally looking at her. She's changed so much. The brow in her hair... it's a familiar type of brown. But at the moment, it's causing her to look horrid.

"Order business. Paper work."

"Ah..."

Okay, so we hit a glitch. It's okay. Move along.

"Anything new?" I glance sidelong at her. She's still ignoring me.

"No."

Is it just me, or is she being a bit cold?

"How are - "

"I have to go."

She finally looks at me, without a trace of expression on her face.

'W- why?" I asked, my words faltering. "You... just came though."

"Scrimgeour has me on detecting magical objects."

"But you're an - "

"Auror. I know."

"So you're going now?'

"Yes."

"Oh... well, I don't want to be a burden or anything - "

"How long are you staying for?"

She looks at me with hopeful eyes. I'm about to say four days, but something stops me.

"A week."

"So you'll be here for the engagement party on wednesday?"

Engagement party? There's an engagement party? Non one's told me anything... And for WHO!

She seems to havr read my mind. "Bill and Fleur's engagement party."

I didn't know Fluer and Bill were having an engagement party.

"Oh, sure. I'll be there."

"Good."

"Indeed."

"Yes, indeed."

We both stand there in stressed silence. I steal a glance at her, to see her pulling on her hair. She always did that when she was nervous. It's one of those things I've come to know about her. Like the fact that she has an allergy to fish. That she likes peanut-butter-banana sandwiches. How she tends to talk fast when she's scared or under pressure.

I turn around to say something to her, but find that I'm facing nothing but thin air. She had gone without a word. Just like I did, when I left for my mission to the underground. And although she just left from a strained conversation, it's a harsh gesture. And now, I know how she felt like when I left. But only a fraction. I would be seeing her in two days. She, on the otherhand, waited a month.

But she didn't have to wait to see me. She could have moved on. Moved on to better things.

Just like I have.

Or I think.