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.

"This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the midpoint, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere."- A. S. Byatt, Possession

Falling into Place

If beginnings were hard to pinpoint, endings were easy. His life ended many times in the past- a bite at an age when children should worry false boogeymen under their beds and not real ones outside their window, Halloween night when a family's death ushered the happiness of others who did not know them, and a valiant stand and the graceful fall of a body beyond a veil. The moments were very distinct and precise.

And now Dumbledore's last stand.

The afternoon of the first full moon after the Death, (as they were wont to think of It capitalized), Remus went to Hogsmede and trekked his way up to the Shrieking Shack. He went around the perimeter, inspecting the holding spells, repairing those that had been broken and putting up new ones.

The inside of the Shrieking Shack carried all of his childhood misadventures and injuries. An old blood stain here and a few scratches there marked where he had first spent many lonely nights alone, then later in the company of his boyhood friends. He tapped his foot on the other entrance of the house, the one that lead to the Whomping Willow and Hogwarts, again testing the integrity and reapplying the spells.

His movements dislodged the dust motes that covered the floor and walls, silent witnesses to some of his happiest and loneliest moments. He watched for a moment the strange prisms, as they swirled in the beams of light coming from the window, falling slowly to settle once more and witness his struggle and hide the stains and scratches, like fresh snow. This house: a perverted snow globe.

He chose his corner to settle in, one that would have a good view of the moon. Then he waited. His eyes stung as his thoughts wandered inevitably to the door, the tree and the castle, the silent conspiracy and the formidable man that had made his life possible. He thought of the overwhelming understanding and compassion of this man as his form and mind slowly turned wolfish and his human anguish was gradually replaced by the howling.

888

"Wotcher, Remus." Her voice drifted through the still air to reach him. He navigated through the rooms by wand light until he found her, sitting cross-legged in front of the Tapestry, looking at him over her shoulder, while idly tracing the scorched circle where Sirius' name had once been.

Over the days past the fall of Hogwarts, he had found himself returning to 12 Grimmauld Place, sitting in the dark, sometimes staring at the Tapestry as she was doing now and wondering if Sirius got the better deal.

He missed Padfoot terribly.

The house itself seems to have gone into mourning, even now, a year after. Although the ability to do so remains, the paintings have gone still like ice as if their master's death had sapped the energy of the house, and they, merely reflections of life mimicked the one that had gone. In the darkness behind the curtain, only an occasional hacking sob comes from the portrait of Mrs. Black.

It is one of the sad fates of portraits, that they are doomed to outlive their successors, even hated children. Until slowly, one by one each generation falls off, and all that is left of this barren tree is a picture with an idea of its aloneness.

He sat down beside her and scanned the Tapestry, his gaze flitting briefly over the burn mark beside Narcissa's name before settling on her finger, which was worrying what had once been Sirius' name.

"I miss Sirius, Dumbledore, all of them, Remus," Tonks said sighing loudly. "And I wish there was something I can do. But there isn't."

Remus knew how she felt. Despite how much they were needed or loved, the dead were in a land that wishes cannot reach and grief does nothing but offer small solace to those left behind.

Although it had been only a couple of weeks since he last saw her in the hospital wing, he was surprised by how much she had changed. Her cheeks were sunken, the skin around her eyes was dark and there were creases around her mouth that hadn't been there before.

"Remus," she began, moving her hands from the Tapestry to her lap, "we can't skirt around the issue anymore."

He moved slightly, turning towards her. "Nymphadora, I won't change my mind. I'm sorry." He meant it, but the words hung heavily in the air, sounding trite and insincere.

She raised her face and Remus saw that her eyes were bright, but there where no tears. He admired her then for bravely admitting her feelings in front of everybody despite the chance of rejection. He admired her now for stating openly what even he didn't want to confront.

Then she nodded.

"Okay. If you insist that we shouldn't be together, then maybe we shouldn't." Her eyes focused on a spot somewhere over his shoulder. "But I want to tell you this: I'm tired of lilacs, Remus. Do you think I appreciate waking up in a cold bed with a flower next to me instead of you. You've done that twice. I understand the first time, but the second time was difficult for me."

She held herself still and despite the brightness of her eyes, her face remained resolute. Remus could see that she was fighting the tears. He fought his own tears, as well.

"Don't you see that this is the right thing to do?"

"So you'll just push me away!" Tonks shouted. "Don't you think I get tired of trying after being pushed away? If this is what you want, a lonely and miserable life, I'll respect your decision. Just give me a good reason, Remus. Just one good reason. Tell me you don't feel this, and I'll go. I'll go."

But he already gave her his reasons, reasons that she thought weren't justified. And there was nothing left for him to say. They were left with this: both of them standing in two corners on opposite sides of a line that neither of them wanted to cross. One of them has to give way because they were at a stalemate.

"I'm tired of fighting for us, Remus. Especially if the person I'm fighting for does not want us. It's about time that you fought for us."

"I'm tired, too." He continued to insist on what he believed, even if he loved her.

"Then make it easier for the both of us. Tell me to stay with you."

"I can't."

She gave him one last lingering look and a melancholic smile touched her mouth. She gave an understanding nod, before turning around.

He watched her leave.

Wasn't this what he had been wanting all along. Hadn't he wanted her to come to her senses, to finally leave him and pursue the life that she deserved. So how come he felt as if, after moving towards this for such a long time, upon finally arriving at his destination, that it wasn't at all what he wanted. How come he felt empty?

Her words last Christmas came back to him. You make me happy, Remus. In Tonk's arms, he felt whole. She makes him happy.

For him, loving her is like hoping against hope.

But did it matter? Isn't that what a relationship is about? About how everything outside of love, trust and respect is arbitrary.

The pieces of his life finally fell into place.

The emptiness of Grimmauld Place stretched long and endless in front of him. Yet, it was different somehow. Brighter. Maybe his eyes had grown accustomed to the lack of light. But Remus suspected another reason.

He heard the front door open and ran towards it at an incredible speed.

He plans on telling her to stay.

-FIN-

AN:
And the rest is history... as they stood by the lake holding hands.

This really was supposed to be sort of a collection of one-shots with very little plot and it grew into something halfway between a story with no plot and a real story. Poor Rey, victim of a plot device.

I ended it this way because the story was centered on the progression of Remus' thoughts until he had a change of heart, and I wanted it to end on the moment when he had that change of heart. I've always thought whether he loved her or not was out of the question, it was more of whether he would accept that they can have a future together.

Thanks to all of you who stuck with this, despite the sometimes poor grammar and even when I did my disappearing act. I really enjoyed writing this and incorporating your suggestions. I also appreciated all the reviews you guys have given me; they just made my day.