Comments:Thank you so much to the two of you that responded. I changed the summary and the pairing is H/D and T/R, two of my three favorite ships ever! (The other is Hermione/Ron, ;) ) I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far. This next chapter is more Tonks/Lupin than anything. H/D will be the prominent storyline; I just added Tonks and Lupin for a bit of color. And hi, Cammy! Thanks for replying! LOVE YA!
Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter nor any characters related to it. They all belong to my goddess, JK Rowling.
The End of It All
Chapter 2 Part 1
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Harry returned to Grimmuald Place in a slight daze. He and Draco had spoke in a completely civil manner to each other. Neither one tried to curse the other into bits, which was a first in all the twelve years they've known each other. Harry thought as he sat in his usual place by the fire, it was probably Azkaban that did this to his old rival. Not only had it weakened his appearance, but also it might have also weakened his soul, his drive, and that that stupid Malfoy ego.
A notepad in hand, he noted on everything he discussed with Draco: that his father was planning on killing Voldermort, but he never plainly came out and told his son. Why didn't he tell him? Didn't he trust him? Or was he just selfish in his plot? Also, he noted Draco's change of attitude towards his family... "A family who all deserves to rot in hell"… Very different from the proud and haughty Draco he remembered.
And the largest thing of all that struck Harry as extremely odd but very important: Unless he was lying, Draco never worshiped Voldermort like the others, even though his father wanted it.
Harry also remembered, near the end of their conversation, Draco was close to letting something slip. Something about making his father proud and finally getting something. But he'd stopped himself and the conversation just in the nick of time. Harry wrote that at the bottom of his page, his handwriting messier than usual. He looked at his notes, satisfied.
Just then, a large disturbance was heard in the hallway and a loud curse. He grinned. He was doing a lot more of that lately. "I'm in here, Tonks," he called, not getting up. The pink haired witch appeared a moment later, looking rather frustrated. She leaned on the wall and looked at him, to trace of the normal friendly smile that usually graced her face, no matter what appearance she happened to take that day.
"How'd the interview with Malfoy go?" she asked. Her voice was a little lower as well. Harry frowned, but chose not to pry. He'd done too much of that in his youth and it never landed him anywhere good.
So he only shrugged. "Pretty well, considering. He was perfectly civil to me and gave me a lot to work on. Here." He handed her the notepad. She took it and her eyes swept over the page. She thrust it back at him.
"That gives us nothing, Harry," she told him, crossing her arms and legs. "All we know from that is that he doesn't know where Lucius is and he had no idea what the plan was. Fat lot of help that'll give us."
Harry stood and looked at her. He was only about an inch taller so he couldn't look down at her. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting like this?
"Sorry it doesn't meet your standards," he said callously, slightly hurt but not letting it show. A small flicker of emotion passed over her face and she whipped around and stormed out. He heard that same commotion again, followed by a loud bang and the front door to the house slamming. Harry went to the hallway to see what she'd done. The umbrella stand stood in smithereens by the door.
Tonks' POV
Remus sent me an owl that morning. I was so glad, I nearly ran to the window when I realized whose owl it was. He told me to come to Diagon Alley and meet him in the Leaky Cauldron at two. It was one now. I had to hurry.
I left my house in a hurry, dressing suggestively but not too sluttish. We'd been dating on and off seriously for a about a year now, keeping everything our romantic little secret. It's been perfect. But he always seemed to break up with me right before the full moon. I understood he wanted to keep me safe, and its not that I resented it, but I always wanted to be there for him during that painful time. I wanted to help ease some of his pain that he now had to suffer through alone since James, Lily and Sirius were gone. Peter never even helped him anyway. The full moon was two days ago, so it was time for him to ask me out again. I couldn't wait.
I saw him clutching a rum at a table I the Leaky Cauldron. It was quite dark here. I wondered why he didn't ask me to somewhere a little better lit. Then I saw the reason when he looked up. His scars were worse than ever. Ever since Snape stopped making his potions, he'd had to suffer his transformations the painful and dangerous way. I sat down opposite him at the tiny table. I reached out and gently touched his face, which was covered with fresh wounds. He winced, but smiled all the same. I smiled back and took my hand away.
"How are you?" he asked me, his voice thick and gritty has though he hadn't used it in years. It tugged sharply at my heart and the corners of my mouth.
"I should be asking you the same thing," I told him softly. Our conversations were usually like this. From smiles, lifted eyebrows, or shifting of eyes, we could communicate without saying a word. And on the rare occasion that we did verbally converse, like now, our voices were quiet and soft. As if we were sharing a secret only we knew.
From over the table and over his mug, he looked at me for a long while and my smile stayed glued to my face. I felt like a clown with a painted-on smile, stuck in an eternal grin of stupid bliss. But then his face changed. From appreciation and love, it became question and despair. Not a very comforting thing on a face as worn as his. Something was wrong here.
My smile evaporated into the sky and rain clouds formed as the wrinkles on his face deepened. What was happening? He was shaking his head, his eyes clouded over. There was something there that shouldn't be. A new understanding of some sort. Something he didn't want to understand with me.
"Voldermort's murder," he began shallowly. "It got me to thinking… I don't want to keep us a secret any more. I'm tired of hiding. I want to go farther with you: to the next step."
My expression brightened. Maybe this wasn't such bad news after all. "But what?" I asked brightly. His words were fulfilling my every dream and he was hanging all these possibilities over my head like bait. And I was going to take it.
But his weak appearance grew stronger, more evident. He wasn't asking me to go to the next level. He was telling me he couldn't. My heart was breaking. "I'm too scarred," he whispered. My heart broke, snapping in two at the double meaning, something I did understand. I knew he had a painful past, why was that so important now? "I don't ever want to hurt you or our children."
That one caught me off guard and I couldn't hide a hopeful smile. "Children," I repeated breathlessly. "You want children?" It was an amazing new thought and my head was suddenly filled with possibilities.
"I want to marry you, Tonks,"
Holy crap.
"But I love you too much to hurt you that way."
You're hurting me now! I wanted to scream at him. And I felt like I might break with the effort of keeping myself together. How could he do this to me? He suffered through one horrible night alone, but he always came back to me. He ALWAYS came back. I couldn't even look at him. I looked down at the table, choking back a dry sob.
"I'm sorry, Tonks." His voice seemed to come from a mile away. We were at opposite sides of a Quidditch field. The understanding between us was gone. "I do still love you." His voice was only an echo, a broken record in my mind.
"Bullshit."
I whispered the word to the table and he seemed rather taken aback that I swore at him. I stood up, pushing my chair back forcefully. He'd said that to me so many times, it couldn't be true anymore. If he could use it as an excuse for leaving me, if had to be a lie. He only said it to calm me down, but he didn't mean it. I stormed out and waited just outside.
He never came for me.
I pumped over that stupid umbrella stand in the hallway and cursed loudly. Usually it was rather funny, but I wasn't in the mood for jokes.
"I'm in here, Tonks," I heard from farther inside. I came into the living room and leaned on the wall and looked at him, frowning deeply. He was always moping around that stupid fire like Sirius would suddenly just jump out of it. The kid needed a reality check. When things were gone, they're really gone.
"How'd the interview with Malfoy go?" I asked. He seemed to notice the change in my voice. Thankfully, he didn't say anything to the effect of "What's wrong?" or "Are you okay?" I hate those questions.
He only shrugged. "Pretty well, considering. He was perfectly civil to me and gave me a lot to work on. Here." He handed me the notepad. I took it and scanned it. It was a bunch of crap about nada.
"That gives us nothing, Harry," I told him, crossing my arms and legs. "All we know from that is that he doesn't know where Lucius is and he had no idea what the plan was. Fat lot of help that'll give us." It was harsh, but it was true.
He stood and looked at me. He was hardly taller than me. Barefoot we'd probably be the same height. He was looking at me oddly and I looked right back.
"Sorry it doesn't meet your standards," he said callously. Not letting the anger pass over my face, I whipped around and stormed out. I wrenched open the door, but it knocked over that dammed stand again. Having had enough, I whipped out my hand and pointed it at the thing. By the time the door slammed behind me, I knew I'd never knock that thing over again.
