No copyright infringement is intended

This story will be an alternating POV between Tonks and Lupin, starting after the hospital ward scene in HBP. Spoilers for HBP.

A Chance at Happiness by Fairygirlie

This is wrong in so many ways, but I need to be here.

I had only been to Tonks' flat once. It was well over a year ago. It was late at night and she had accidentally left her scarf at Grimmauld Place; the weather outside looked like snow was on the horizon, so I had the perfect reason to stop by. As I had to ask Sirius for directions, he half jokingly told me to be nice to his cousin and to "keep the wolf in my pants." On that occasion, I knocked on the door and instantly felt guilty for rousing Tonks out of bed, but it was good to see her. She invited me inside, but I declined the offer, apologizing profusely for waking her up, yet on the inside secretly treasuring the knowledge of what her pajamas and messy hair looked like.

Yet again, I'm at her apartment feeling guilty for troubling her, but this time is much worse. And this time I'm an uninvited guest, not to mention the fact that I Apparated directly into her living room without her permission. I can tell that she is here; I can smell her scent mingled with a touch of whiskey. As I walk around her flat, I take a chance and peer into her bedroom. She is lying on top of her quilt, limbs splayed out across the bed and mouth slightly open. She looks troubled. It breaks my heart to leave her doorway, but I can't risk her waking up to find a strange figure standing in her doorway.

It's 3:30 in the morning and I've been walking around town in the rain. Mostly I've been walking around her part of the city completely engrossed in thought. Too much has happened within the past 24 hours. I still can't believe Dumbledore is dead. We may never get over this shock. On a more superficial level, I am also currently homeless. When I've spent time away from my fellow werewolves during the past few months, I've stayed at Grimmauld Place. Although Harry is the rightful owner of the property, he's welcomed me to stay whenever I stop into town. After Snape's betrayal last night, I'm sure the magical security has been compromised and Death Eaters have probably learned the secrets of the property already. I could stay at the Burrow, but in light of Bill's attack, I'm sure the Weasley's would want some privacy. Also, due to last night's battle with Greyback, chances are very good there is a price out on my head. Being a spy among the werewolves was always a deadly endeavor and I knew it all along. Each and every one of them wouldn't hesitate to kill be in a heartbeat.

So, let's see: I'm homeless, unemployed, deeply involved in a war, a witness to the injuries and deaths of my friends and allies, and let's not forget the fact that I'm standing in a flat belonging to a heartbroken witch. At least I remembered to use a drying charm: a necessity in this weather. At least her floors are safe from puddles.

Tonks. If I concentrate, I can hear her breathing. I wish I could hold her in my arms and make everything better, but I can't. But why am I here? I haven't really figured that out. I walk around her flat to see how she personalized the place but am surprised at what I find: just the bare necessities. In the darkness, I notice a sofa with a crocheted afghan draped over the back, a cushy armchair, a bookshelf filled with mostly Auror-related mandatory reading and a few Muggle classics, a coffee table, a lamp and a framed print of the Irish coastline. I can only find one framed picture on display. It's a picture of the Order taken about a year ago. We're all smiling and waving in the picture. As I look at Tonks in the picture, I notice she occasionally shifts her line of sight slightly to the left. It appears as if she is trying to look at me. Why have I never seen this picture before?

The storm outside is still raging and the inside of the flat is briefly illuminated with lightening. The loud clap slightly rouses Tonks from her deep slumber but not enough to wake her completely. She starts murmuring in her sleep.

"Why," she cries aloud. "Why did you leave me?"

I have no idea who she's talking about but pangs of guilt are building up inside my stomach.

"Please don't leave me again," she utters softly. "I miss you so much."

Oh. She's definitely dreaming about me.

I take the afghan off the back of the sofa, walk into Tonks' bedroom and softly drape the covering over her body. My mind may be deceiving me, but I think she briefly opened her eyes for less than a second. My heart leapt in shock, surprise and exhilaration, then settled down as she continued to sleep.

I knelt down next to her bed and whispered "sweet dreams" and walked out to take my place on her sofa for the remainder of my sleepless night.