AN: Once again, heartfelt thanks to ALL of my reviewers. You make me feel like…a double bill of ER with a box of Miniature Heroes (no, not bloated and sick…). So here is the very last bit of this particular fic, which I confess was an experiment, introducing my own brand of Remus into the world before actually toying around with inconveniences like storylines. Argh! With this in mind, he WILL return…probably younger, and maybe with a tad less angst (because, let's face it, noone could survive as long as he has with all those morbid thoughts plaguing him…). Alors, on commence!

Disclaimer: Oh ye, I forgot this last chapter. Needless to say, I am simply a lazy rogue who can't be bothered to invent some characters of my own…so I…borrowed…some of JKR's. They will never belong to me. Poor me, get out the violins…

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They think, they all think I am in control.

And, those who have barely known me…they would be right. They have never seen beyond the man who sits quietly by the fire and offers a steady, avuncular sympathy, positively radiating righteousness and selfless morality.

Even those who have shared my entire life – for the most part they see, too, the bookish, reticent Remus focussed on dusty academia and not on foolish concepts like emotion.

But there are two who have seen me lose my grip on my bland façade…

- please God, I can't fight this any more…what I wouldn't give…such a selfish monster to sacrifice his friendship, but I don't care, I love you…my God how I love you, don't trample on my dreams, in the name of sanity, don't cast me aside. It hurts every time…but from you – can't you see? You have the power to kill me, to finish me entirely -

- you see…you can't know how much you mean to me…this feels so weird, so wrong to be telling you all this…man, just to be accepted, it's like you've given me the world. Merlin, it took me years to realise what you mean to me…you won't go away will you? Be with me always…look at you, so beautiful…what are you doing with me? just don't betray me…we can't go back now, can we? But I'd rather be in your arms for one night than pretend I look on you only as a friend for the rest of my life – my love…mine -

And I know, deep inside me, that I am always unravelling a little at the edges, that there have been countless times when my mask has slipped, when I have reverted to something feral…something inhuman. At the very beginning, at the dawn, maybe there was just the wolf – I am a wolf who turns into a man when the moon is less than full.

There have been times when my behaviour has been repulsive, sordid, shameful. Times when I have scrabbled for shelter…lowered myself so greatly that my heart has shrivelled. Seeking comfort not in the arms of a faceless woman, but in the roof she provides for me. I have too many reasons to despise myself and the shadow that I cast.

I am scrabbling now, too, to save myself from attachments that will curse those around me. I cannot be responsible for dooming – defiling – one so pure and gentle.

Ha, listen to my selfish ranting…I talk as though I might have a chance, as though my flesh is not withered and drained, as though I possess sparkling wit and sparkling gold to entice a young heart. No, I will delude myself no longer.

But she talks to me so often, so softly, imparting secrets and confessions that I never request. It is as though she is pouring herself into me, because after all, I am no colander, the fragments that she makes me witness are safe forever inside good, trustworthy Remus.

I confess, although she unnerves me when she tells me about past loves and fears that noone else may see, I enjoy leaning close to her, seeing the glint in her eyes. And one day, she makes a choice that churns me up inside.

Again, I enter the kitchen, and it is her alone, by the sink, weak September sunshine catching in the strands of her hair, lifted by static and the rush of movement as she turns from washing a cup and smiles at me.

My heart constricts.

I want to go to her, despite the Muggle yellow gloves that engulf her tiny hands, covered in iridescent, sliding suds, and embrace her…inhale her red, glossy hair. Stare into those green, green eyes. It is so hard, living in the past.

Sometimes, it resurrects itself in the most unexpected of places.

I must look odd, half-hidden by the heavy door, raking her over and over with my eyes. I hear Sirius feeding a cawing Buckbeak, and the present, where she is dead and I am nothing but an old fool teaching the next generation, scrapes at the back of my mind. She did not choose that colour this morning deliberately.

Noone knows.

Noone.

It is inconceivable, horrible, to think that she has read my dying eyes so closely that she sees the shame and guilt smothered by layers of dull memories. It was one kiss.

And a lifetime unfulfilled. Unrequited. But it is buried. How could I survive else?

In my reminiscences, as they stab and scratch at the back of my eyes, she is suddenly before me, her gloved hands pressing to my face, her little body humming with youth and vitality. It is too easy for me to muffle the mantra throbbing in my skull, she is Tonks, she is Tonks, she will never be her, she is not what you truly want, and kiss her.

I was right. It is not the same. Though, how I can remember, I cannot say. I have carried the memory, the facts of one long ago kiss, but who can truly remember sensations through decades, when other sensations may come along and cloud them?

All the same, I can see her hair fade to pink.

Maybe I love her for the images she causes to flicker into my mind…images I thought had run away laughing, leaving only the sweet taste of their memory to linger cruelly. And maybe I love her because she is Tonks, something young and new.

And not a collection of photographs and tinkling piano keys in the dusty rooms of my remembrance.

I am come here to die, and she is life. So I will not be plummeting gladly to the same fate as the girl who I see walking back towards me in dreams.

Not today, anyhow.

AN: So, there we go…A brief introduction to the doom 'n' gloom that is dorian dark's Remus Lupin. I like the idea that a) he was in love with Lily (what's with that scene in the 3rd movie where Lupin is going on about Harry's mother to him? My suspicions were WELL AND TRULY aroused…) and b) that he and Sirius were VERY GOOD friends. Or maybe it's just me. And not in a sordid, secretive way, really…a pure love, y'know? 'Cause as much as he beats himself up, Remus is really quite a good lad, no? I hope this didn't disappoint…thank you for taking the time to read :) until next time… DD xxx