Lunacy
Remus knew even before anything happened that it was crazy. He didn't belong with some young, vivacious witch, no matter what disturbing feelings he might be developing for her. He was just one of those people that was fated never to have a romantic life. It was for her own good as much—perhaps more than—his own. It would save him the inevitable embarrassment of rejection, and if by some miracle he wasn't turned down, protect her from the hardships of a relationship with someone like him.
Of course, fate had always seemed averse to him. No, he wasn't the one to make the first more—that had been her. And for a while he had accepted and returned her affections. But it was a foolish move, and all too soon he became aware of how wrong it was. So he ended it. It was better for them to be apart, even if she refused to realize it.
And this was the argument he ran up against now.
The rational part of his brain knew without a doubt that he and Tonks should never be together.
For one thing, he was more than a decade her elder. Such relationships rarely worked out, and the thought of someone so young being with someone so old was simply grotesque from an outside viewpoint.
He had no money. What little fortune his family had possessed had been spent trying to find a cure for him, and since none of these so-called cures worked, he found employment exceedingly difficult to find. The woman deserved someone who could afford to buy her dinner, a gift…a ring.
The fact that he became a dangerous monster once a month might have had a little to do with it, too.
So his arguments were well rehearsed by this time, and he knew without a doubt that they were a sound barrier between him and any sort of friendship, let alone a serious romance.
Of course, where Nymphadora did not accept these reasons, neither did his heart.
Remus had learned long ago that the mind cannot dictate what the soul feels. In his head he was certain of the wrongness of his affections, and yet somehow the feeling did not transfer elsewhere in his emotions. He wished desperately for the ability to show her how much he cared, to be with her, for her to be as in love with him as he with her. And no matter how many times he tried to quash that longing, it still prevailed.
Madness! His mind screamed at him. The thought of such a relationship with Nymphadora Tonds was simply ludicrous. It was absurd! Absolute lunacy!
His mind had poor choice in words.
It hadn't been until he inherited a Muggle history of medicine from Arthur Weasley that he had learned the derivation of the words "lunacy" and "lunatic." It was quite fascinating, really. Apparently Muggles has once thought that extended time in the light of the moon caused mental instability, to put it politely. Hence lunacy—"luna" being a Latin (or was it Greek?) root meaning moon.
So really, the word was quite applicable in his case. He supposed that it only made sense that his experiences under the light of the full moon would cause his intellectual functions to be altered. Such things were more than enough to make many people go crazy—had, in fact, made many people go crazy. So why not him? Maybe those ancient Muggle doctors had known what they were talking about after all.
In that case, the reason that he kept protesting his rational train of thought made perfect sense. Somehow this idea was comforting. If he wasn't in his right mind after all, maybe that meant that he had a little bit of leeway to do the irrational thing.
Besides, hadn't Tonks told him over and over again that she didn't care about any of these things? Was it really so wrong of him to take her for her word in this matter? Maybe it didn't make sense to him that she was willing to accept every aspect of him, good and bad. Maybe in his logical mind it seemed insane to trust that she would feel the same way after time had passed. But if he was going to be a lunatic, he didn't have to do what the logical part of his mind said anyway.
The logical part of his mind did not like this reasoning at all. It told him that this was just an excuse to do what he wanted to do rather than what he should do. He recognized that this was probably true. However, there was nothing that he could do to change the attraction—perhaps even love—he felt for this girl. And as far as he was aware of, no one had ever said that love was logical.
In fact, the act of loving in itself could be considered lunacy. If this was true, then he was already too far down the path toward being a lunatic to consider turning back. That meant that the only option left to him was to continue forward on that path. And continuing forward meant that he had to accept what he was feeling—and act on it.
The sensible part of his mind sent up one last grumble before conceding defeat. Finally he could come to terms with what he was feeling. Something told him that this would make Tonks very, very happy.
Perhaps, Remus thought, being a lunatic wasn't such a bad thing after all.