Hey all! I just wanted to say thanks to everyone reading and reviewing! The next chapter will be up on Tuesday as I will be away from home for the weekend! Thanks again!

Part Three: Something That Was but Never Would Be

Nymphadora Tonks clutched the teacup as if it was the last and only thing keeping her alive. Her hands were red on white as she held the hot beverage close, not even feeling the heat as it burned her hands and fingers. Her grey eyes were concentrated far and away, on something that wasn't really there.

She had sat here, in the exactly same place and in exactly the same manner only five days ago, but it seemed a lifetime ago. Then, then she had been worried, worried beyond belief. Her head had been spinning with questions and anxiety and varying possible scenarios that might come to pass. She had been panicked, nervous, at her wit's end.

But at least then, she had been happy.

Now... now her world had fallen down around her, and there was no way out. Sirius was gone. Gone. Gone into the black veil of death, falling forever out of sight but never out of mind. She shivered involuntarily, as she thought of her cousin. Her eyelids quivered, but God knows no tears would come. There were no more left. All had been shed during the past several days.

Nymphadora removed her hands from the sides of the scalding teacup, and stared at the red surface of them. Red, red like blood. Blood that had been shed the night Sirius died. She closed her eyes in pain. That night had left her with more scars than anyone knew.

They were fighting, and Harry was there, and the others, and Sirius and Remus and there were spells flying through the air at random. A crash sounded from somewhere, and she turned, only for a moment, for a second, but it was too late, and someone cackled as the spell hit her abdomen and threw her sprawling through the air. Only a moment, and her world shattered.

She hadn't been that hurt; at least, she hadn't thought she was that hurt. She shook it off, and stood back up, even through her midsection was screaming at her to sit down, to lay down, to maybe fall asleep and never wake up. She recovered in time to see her friend killed at the hands of his cousin and her aunt. The scream died in her throat as she watched him fall.

The next day, Molly had insisted on taking her to St. Mungo's, as the pain had never left, and she prayed that it was not what she thought it was. When the Healer had come out and told her worst fear, it was as if Sirius had died again, and the world was falling, falling forever.

Molly had taken her home, not knowing what had happened, but knowing enough that Nymphadora was in no state to return by herself. The older woman had soothed her to sleep, had taken care of her in the younger woman's darkest hour. And when Nymphadora had awoken the next day, her hair was a greyish-brown and her eyes had turned to the colour of dust.

The tea was cooler now, but still, she didn't drink from it. It just sat there, forgotten, while the young woman got lost into her own thoughts. What was she going to tell Remus?

A possibility occurred: Oh, hello Remus. So, you were going to be a father. Yeah, you know, but don't worry about it, I lost the baby so it's all okay now.

The callousness of the thought surprised even herself, and her chest compressed with a restrained sob. Her baby. Their baby. A baby that was but would never be. Remembered only by one woman, who only knew her child for three short days.

Of course, it had been longer than three days. But Nymphadora had only learnt of her condition two days before that fateful night at the Ministry. Two days of worrying, of wondering, of excitement and of trepidation, of careful dreams and wistful fantasy. She had thought of a family, a home, a life beyond the war. She had thought of first steps and first words and walks in the park. She had thought of someone to come home to, someone to play with, someone to love completely and unconditionally. She had dreamt of someone to care for.

It only took a single mutter, a single incantation to destroy those dreams.

She pushed the tea away, and stood up on shaky legs. Touching her abdomen gingerly, as if something was still there, something that just needed love and care to come back. But nothing, nothing could bring her baby back.

Crossing the kitchen and entering her parlour, she collapsed onto a sofa and lay back, looking up blankly at the room. She still didn't know what to tell Remus. What was she supposed to say? A month ago, he had told her that they couldn't stay together; that he was too dangerous and too old and too poor. That he was a werewolf, and that he could never be with her. They had argued into the night, and she had left, upset and in tears.

Just days before, she was going to go to him, going to tell him exactly what was going on and that, if need be, she could do it on her own. But she knew that Remus would never abandon her or his child, and that he would be there.

And now... now, she didn't think she would tell him anything at all. He didn't need more troubles, he didn't need more pain. No, she would keep this to herself, the only memory of someone who perhaps never was. She loved Remus Lupin, more than she should, and she wasn't going to manipulate him with this. Nymphadora knew that he still loved her, but that it was his insufferable devotion to the Order and to saving the world that kept them apart. She respected that, and she wasn't about to make it worse.

Her eyes were tired, so tired. Her body felt bruised and broken all over, and exhaustion seemed to run like a liquid through her veins. Succumbing to the pull of sleep, Nymphadora Tonks closed her eyes in sweet agony and fell into a deep slumber, where nightmares of forgotten children and lost loves taunted her through the night. Someone whispered from nowhere: To sleep, perchance to dream…