You Can't Love a Werewolf
Disclaimer: Jo. Rowling. Oh.
Summary: Remus doesn't know what to do when Tonks admits her love for him and he does not feel the same way.
Author: Padfoooot.
She smiled at him softly, as if expecting him to grin back, but he did not. Remus Lupin's face held the same still, grave expression he had had during the ceremonies. Albus Dumbledore's funeral ceremonies. It was as if he didn't see her, but just looking though her into infinite nothingness. His jaw was set. He wouldn't speak.
The two of them were walking towards Hogsmeade after the funeral, unlike many other that went to say their goodbyes to Hogwarts' Headmaster. Tonks and Remus walked away, hand-in-hand, exchanging awkward glances every minute or so.
"Before we leave," Tonks broke the silence, "would you like to stop at Honeydukes and have a quick drink?" Her voice was calm and steady, yet the signs of tears still remained on her cheeks.
At first it seemed that Remus would never reply and it was several paces before he mumbled a soft, "Sure." Then going back to watching his feet as he walked. Left, right, left, right, left… it was almost hypnotic. He was lost in his thought, his world—hardly aware of Tonks's hand in his…
Dumbledore was gone. The first person to show him that being a werewolf made him no different than anyone else. The one headmaster that would even consider letting him learn at his school—and giving him a job there! Dumbledore was the man that everyone knew, loved, and trusted. Being murdered by Severus Snape was a pure insult to his being. An ex-Death Eater, no one would trust the man with so much deception in his past—but Dumbledore did. Albus trust him with his life, keeping Snape out of Azkaban.
Tonks was talking. About what, Remus couldn't imagine. He focused back into the physical world quick enough to hear her say, "You think too much, you know that? What if one day you think about something so much that you talk yourself out of the right decision?"
He chuckled softly as Hogsmeade came slowly into view. "And you're the one to talk? You work so rashly that you don't even know what you're dealing with after you've already dealt with it!" exclaimed Remus, a small smile flicking across his face. He was glad to have something to keep his mind off of the recent events.
She smiled, as if proud of what he had just told her. "Well," began Tonks, "at least I don't deny the truth when it's right in front of my nose."
Oh. That was what she wanted to talk about. "You're very persistent, aren't you?" he scowled. "I already told you—."
"And I already told you, I don't care," Tonks reminded him. They had stopped walking now, facing one another right outside the gates to Hogwarts. "I love you, Remus. Just because you happen to be a bit older than me, short on money, and a werewolf doesn't mean a thing! I love you." She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye, daring im to look away. "Don't you feel it? Do you not love me back?"
Her love. Her ceaseless love for him was too much. It had all the heart in the world. It was not that she didn't deserve him as it was that he doesn't deserve her. She was intelligent, whole, honest, loyal, caring, and beautiful. It was so much that he would never be able to give back to her.
Remus broke their gaze by stepping forewords and wrapping his arms around her, embracing Tonks. It was different than the times that they had briefly hugged in passing or before one of them left for an assignment for the Order. This time, Tonks touched her lips to his, warm and soft, just to see his response.
It wasn't good. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before Remus backed away, staring at her in disbelief. "I… I have to go," he mumbled, taking a step back and dissapparating on the spot.
And she was left standing there, feeling stupid and embarrassed. She had kissed him, and he had denied it. Did Remus not love her back?
Tonks walked as if in a dream to Honeydukes to get herself a butterbeer, in hopes that the warm drink would bring her back to her sense. The bartender attempted to bring up polite conversation with her, but she just ignored him, feeling the hot liquid slide down her throat.
Alone in his room at Grimmauld Place, where he had been living for the past two years (when he was not spying on the werewolves), Remus gazed blankly at the pale wall.
She really did love him. It was scary. They say love is blind, and hers was blind towards his danger, age, and poverty. But it had gone too far. He had expected this just to be a short thing, where she loved him, but once he reminded her of his dangers she would disappear. It had happened before.
She loves him. And how could you tell someone, in the middle of a catastrophic wizarding war, that you don't love them back?
Written under the influence of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
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