Disclaimer: This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

Against Hope

There are certain words - ecstasy, abandon, surrender - we can wait all our lives, sometimes, not so much to use, as to use correctly. -Carl Phillips

Ecstasy, Abandon, Surrender
Her door opened after his fifth knock and after she cast a number of charms to make sure that it was truly, him on the other side. She ushered him quickly and after a furtive look behind him, closed the door and replaced the charms.

With all of her lights out, he watched her with the dim lights from the window. The moonlight turned her skin into marble, while the incandescent glow of the street lamp deepened the hollows of her cheeks, making her look like a statue brought to life. His own Galatea.

She wordlessly directed him towards her sofa and set to light her fireplace. The sofa was old and battered but very comfortable. Yet what he liked the most about it was that it smelled of her and as he sank into its depths, he felt safe, surrounded by something that he wanted to lose himself in.

"Remus, what made you…. I mean don't get me wrong..." And as she turned around, her voice died in her throat.

"You're bleeding, Remus!" She knelt in front of him and patted his scalp, his neck, down his torso, his arms and his thighs, looking for the source of the blood that stained his shirt and hands.

He grasped both of her hands to stop her frantic searching. "It's not mine, Nymphadora."

He felt her relax a bit, but she remained silent, waiting for him to explain.

He let go of her hands and ran his hand through his longish hair, his hands trembling. Staring at her scruffy plaid carpet, he said, "It's foolish, really. But I had come to know him within the year. He was so young, almost like one of my students in Hogwarts. Then Greyback started... And I couldn't. I just couldn't help him. It's my fault. I should have brought a wand. I should have tried harder..."

"Who, Remus?"

Still avoiding her eyes, he traced the lines of her carpet with his toes. Up, down. Up, down. Then left, right. Left, right. It was easier, this mind-numbing pattern, this thoughtless repetition.

Up, down. Up, down. Then left, right. Left, right.

"Who, Remus?" Tonks shook him slightly.

There was so much blood by the time that he arrived and sitting in the middle of the great red pool was Rey, clutching a soaked-through cloth against his side. Greyback loomed over him, a snarl on his mouth, revealing red tinged teeth.

"You can't even bite them, boy." Greyback pointed to another corner and Remus saw in horror a couple of mutilated bodies. Remus could barely make out the form of a mother and a child.

Rey opened his mouth to say something, but he was so weak and only a small croak could be heard.

Remus couldn't take it any longer. "Greyback."

"Lupin." The werewolf snarled back. "This little boy has been given an order to bring back my dinner, and he refused. What should I do to him?"

Remus approached Rey to get a better look at his wound. On the boy's left side was a bite and long scratch marks. He mentally cursed the lack of a wand. "He'll die, Greyback. We should do something for him."

"He refused my order, Lupin." Greyback growled.

Ignoring Greyback, Remus took off his jumper and used it to staunch the bleeding.

Suddenly, Remus felt himself pushed backwards and watched as Greyback stepped down on the boy's stomach.

Remus rammed straight into Greyback, throwing him off the boy.

The rest of the pack had circled around the fray, and was ordered by Greyback to restrain Remus. It took three werewolves to hold him back.

"I've always suspected your loyalty, Lupin." Then, turning back to Rey, he said: "You are nothing, boy, and you would be wise to remember that. You are lower than filth; you shouldn't have been transformed into a wolf. Those people are prey! Prey that you should have taken, instead of letting them go."

Remus could see that Rey was very, very weak, but he was silently cheering him on as the boy looked defiantly at Greyback. Taking a wheezing breath, the boy raised his hands, gave Greyback the finger; then he closed his eyes. Remus knew, even before Greyback snapped Rey's neck, that he was gone.

After signaling to the werewolves holding Remus to let him go, Greyback faced him and snarled. "You're lucky I sired you, that you've been a wolf for so long. Go Lupin. But the next time I see you, I' vow, I'll tear you apart."

He didn't realize he was talking, didn't realize that in the telling he had gravitated towards her, didn't realize that he had transferred blood and tears on her.

"He was just a child, hardly an adult. He knew nothing about this war; he shouldn't have been included in this. He seemed so lost. A lamb." He laughed bitterly at that. "A little werewolf, lamb." He laughed harder, so hard that his lungs felt like they were going to burst.

He was angry, so angry. It was an emotion that he had forgotten, long ago having resigned himself to the inequalities of his life. He was angry at himself, at Greyback, at the universe, at fate. He laughed harder still, until the laughter turned to sobs and his words were lost in the tears.

"Come now, Remus." Tonks rose from her position by the foot of the sofa and led him from her minuscule living room, down the short corridor and into the room at the end.

Like the rest of the apartment, the room was in darkness, lit only by the streaming moonlight and streetlight from the window. She directed him to sit at the foot of her unmade bed- where she must have been sleeping fitfully judging from the state of the covers- before she disappeared into the door at the one end of the room.

When Tonks returned, he saw that she fumbled with the implements needed for grooming- a towel, a razor, a pair of scissors, a bar of soap, a small washbasin filled with water and a face towel.

She placed the things on her dresser then perched herself on top of it to make up for their great difference in height and motioned for him to move closer.

He moved hesitantly, feeling self-conscious and stopped cautiously a feet in front of her. She reached out and pulled him closer until he bumped her knees. Then she moved her legs apart and pulled him closer still.

Remus took a deep breath.

This was dangerous.

He watched in a daze as her hands moved towards the buttons of his shirt, working them through the holes, the skin of his torso tingling slightly where the pads of her fingers grazed it. He noted that her hands were shaking and realized that his hands, which were dangling at his sides, were clenched tightly.

"Nymphadora."

"Shh…. I'm just going to get you cleaned. Let me do this for you."

She slipped the shirt off his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor by his feet. Then dipping the towel into the washbasin, she started rubbing the blood off him. She started with his face, then methodologically progressed from there, cleaning his neck, his arms, his torso.

"You should stop." Remus was surprised at how choked his voice sounded.

Tonks let out a small laugh, which he felt through his body. "Relax, Remus. I won't take advantage of you."

But he wasn't afraid of her taking advantage.

"There," Tonks said cheekily, "good as new."

Remus hardly felt new. In fact, now, more than ever, he felt a weariness that extended beyond his body.

Tonks moved her hands into his hair, which he had allowed to grow to lend to the appearance of the wild werewolf. He saw the glint of the scissors in time and he grabbed her wrist. He saw her eyes widen slightly, and once again overestimating his strength, he consciously told himself to loosen his grip.

"No, not the hair." He explained harshly. "The beard will grow back quickly, but my hair will not. They won't approve of anything civilizing. And I have to go back, try to convince the others."

"Okay." Her voice came out as a whisper and his eyes were drawn to her throat as she swallowed convulsively.

She replaced the scissors beside her and reached for the soap instead. She lathered up. Softly, she ran her hands over his roughened cheeks and chin, concentrating on putting enough soap for shaving. Concentrating, he realized, on not meeting his eyes. And he was glad that he was spared seeing something that he did not have the heart to face.

Once she was done and had wiped off the excess soap, she let her hands linger against his cheeks. "We need to check if it's a close shave." Then she leant into him and rubbed her cheek against his. "There," she whispered, her breath ruffling the hair near his ear. "I think that's close enough."

He leaned further against her and pressed his palms heavily against the mirror behind her back, feeling, just feeling the weight of her body against his- cheek to cheek, her breast against his chest, and lower still. He let desires get the better of him for a moment, before he pulled away.

"Nymphadora. You aren't safe."

"The moon is weeks from full."

"Don't ever mistake that. The wolf is always within me."

"The wolf may be part of you, Remus, but it is not you. It is not the biggest part of you. It is only a fact about you, like your height, like the color of your eyes or how you like your tea."

"It doesn't matter. I may shave, dress in clothes, may trim my hair, everything civilizing. But I will always be a werewolf, which means I will always be unsafe."

"Then I won't ever be afraid." Her words came as a whispered breath against his lips.

It would be so easy for him to lean in, to close the distance of merely a hairsbreadth to be able to meet her lips. Remus knew there was more than distance separating them. His resistance made her lips a mile away.

He felt that he was being unfair to her and he turned away. He heard the soft thud of her feet hitting the ground. The softly spoken curse word, the small ouch, the whispered, stupid toe, made his chest constrict at the familiarity of it.

"Remus. Remus, turn around and talk to me."

Her hands settled on his shoulder and he felt her rest her head on his back, but he refused to budge.

Sighing, she whispered against the skin between his shoulder blades, "you are not the wolf and just because you turn into one doesn't mean that I will not love you anymore. If it had been any other fault, like bad teeth or an annoying habit, I would still love you, and you wouldn't feel so bad loving me back. For Merlin's sake, I won't stop loving you once a month for something that's a sickness, that you don't have any control over!"

"This is just feelings, the heat of the moment. It will pass Nymphadora."

"This is as much a choice as feelings. I feel this, Remus but I also choose this."

An uncontrollable shiver passed through his body at her words. He was so lost in himself, in his pain, that the only feeling he knew were slashes and anger, hunger and wanting. He had forgotten how to feel anything beautiful until he felt her breath on his lips and heard her words and he was reminded what it was like to feel gentleness again.

Then he was facing her and his lips were meeting hers in earnest. Their hands were moving over each other, shaking because of the newness of the territory and with need.

This wasn't right, his mind was repeating, over and over

He could not have her suffer like this, by giving her false hope when rightfully, she knows that they should not, could not, be together. He would not allow it, because it was being unfair to her. His fear haunted him all the way to the bed and with each graze of his hand on her skin.

Yet she looked lovely in the dim light, her heart shape face looking very forlorn and very young. And although he could say no to his heart a hundred times because it was the right thing to do, he could not say no to her heart.

To make it easier for her, he would learn to say good bye, for good. "Tomorrow," he whispered as he moved on top of her, moved within her.

"Tomorrow," he repeated to himself as she came and he came. He pressed a kiss on her forehead. Tomorrow.

Today, for the both of them, he would hope.

The next day, Tonks found a lone lilac beside her on the bed that had long gone cold.