The room is bare except for a large four-poster bed, but there's a friendly fire crackling in the fireplace and a small table has been laid with a dinner of what seems to be hot tomato soup. Hogwarts has always been welcoming, but tonight I feel a complete stranger within its walls. The clanking of the spoon against the bowl echoes in the lonely room and I can't finish it. Mechanically, I throw off my robes and boots, crawl under the cold bedcover and fall into a light doze, with uneasy images flickering around in my head. At some point, I must have fallen into something more resembling sleep, because I wake up needing the bathroom. The fire has gone out and the room is completely dark. Groping for my wand on the bedside table I feel it just touch my fingers before it clatters on the floor. Glad Mad-Eye isn't here to watch this. Swearing, I step into the direction where I've heard the wand roll, but tread on something on the floor that has me tripping. I stumble, my left arm finds the back of a chair - and overturns it, then I make contact with the table, something smashes on the floor, then I send myself sprawling. Before I can do as much as curse myself, the door bursts open and the fire suddenly blazes up again, illuminating Remus, wand raised, looking wildly around the room. In a second, he's crouching down beside me, my head in his hands.

'What is it, Tonks? Speak to me!'

'M'fine', I mumble, 'I tripped. Tonks classic.'

'You're bleeding!'

'What?'

Propping myself up, I check the red stains on my face and arms.

'Oh…no, I think that's tomato soup.'

Under different circumstances, this would have been hilarious. But not when the other's fear is as real as I've just seen it in his face. Getting up, I rub my hip where it made painful contact with the stone floor, and notice that Remus is fully dressed.

'You haven't slept at all?'

'No.'

I spot my wand under the table and quickly clear up the little mess I've created.

'I haven't slept so well, either' I say, sitting down on the bed and searching for more stains on my T-shirt. Remus still stands there and watches me uncertainly. All of a sudden, I feel I can't bear this gaze of his any longer, as if I was a problem to be solved, so I close my eyes and give my face a good and thorough rub. To my utter surprise, I suddenly feel the mattress sag and, looking up, find that Remus has sat down next to me on the edge of the bed.

'About what you said earlier…in the hospital wing,' he starts in a low voice, 'I don't know how to make you understand that what is happening for Bill and Fleur cannot happen for me…for us.'

He is looking at the floor as he speaks.

'Bill will in all likelihood be able to continue a normal life, whereas you know that I cannot offer you anything of the sort, ever.'

'Remus, if you could just stop being noble about this…What if I didn't want a normal life? What if I wanted only you?' I ask quietly.

He swallows.

'You don't understand. I'm not being noble, I'm...terrified of the extent of misery I could bring upon the person I love.'

There. He's said it. Yet why is my heart still frightened?

Remus almost doubles over, again pressing his face into his hands, and continues in a strained voice:

'My parents have had to sacrifice everything for my sake. Their life could have been a very different, happier one without a werewolf son. The impact that my condition has upon a family is very real, Tonks, I've seen it. And I don't wish it upon anyone else. How could I ever forgive myself for knowingly leading you into a life that is bound to make you, sooner or later, deeply unhappy?'

He wants to go on, but I grab his wrists with both hands and force his haunted eyes to look at me. While I'd like to shout at him, I try to be as gentle as I can.

'Is it so hard for you to believe that you're worthy of being loved, even if it means sacrifice?'

He first stares at me, then his features contort and I quickly let go of his wrists when I realise that he's crying.

So this is it, the raw spot.

As he is shaking with silent sobs, I briefly wonder if he's right after all and I'm wrong, that werewolf marriages are doomed, but all I can see next to me is a devastated man, not a monster. A man who, I slowly realise, hasn't refused to be with me out of gallantry, but out of blank despair. As I feel tears rise into my eyes, I fling my arms around him and rest my head against his trembling shoulder. He is shaking even harder, but after a while, I feel him breathe more calmly, until he eventually fumbles in his pocket for a handkerchief and dries his face.

'I'm sorry,' he mutters, glancing at me out of red eyes.

'Come on, Remus…,' I keep stroking his back, 'you're entitled to some crying from time to time...'

He takes my free hand and shyly holds it in both of his, contemplating it for a moment, then he says:

'It isn't something I've come across very often in my life…people who see me that way. Also, the few who do keep dying on a regular basis, which isn't encouraging, either.'

'But I'm here. And alive.'

'Yes, you are,' he finally looks at me, an expression of utter amazement on his face that almost makes me laugh.

And this is the moment when I lean in and kiss him on the lips. For a moment, it's as if someone has cast a Body-Bind Curse at him, then he relaxes a little and, ever so softly, kisses me back.

When we look at each other again, he seems punch-drunk.

'How about not being alone for the rest of the night?' I ask, lightly tapping the bed cover. An uncomfortable expression appears on his face.

'Don't you think this is...a bit too fast, and with Dumbledore having just died...' he stammers.

'I said 'not alone', Remus. No sex, you can keep all your clothes on, but I'd really be grateful not to be alone. This bed -,' I indicate the four-poster, 'looks big enough to me for two people not touching.'

'You make it sound as if I was a prudish old maid…' He sounds mildly indignant.

'And this from the man who for one year treated me as if I had fallen into Dung Bombs!'

I meant to say it as a joke but am startled myself by how earnestly it has come out.

'I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you.' Remus says quietly and I don't know what to reply. He strokes a strand of hair behind my ear.

'Is this your natural hair colour then?'

I nod. 'Awful, isn't it?'

'No,' he shakes his head. 'Nothing about you is awful.'

'Now, before more evidence suggests that this isn't really Remus Lupin I'm talking to, but some creepy impersonator, I'll follow my original intention to go to the bathroom, and then to bed. Where I hope I will find you, whether within morally prescribed distance or not.'

The first thing I see upon my return to the dim room are Remus's tattered robes hanging tidily over one of the chairs, then I distinguish his shape under the blanket. My stomach turned into a joyous knot, I creep into the bed as well.

'You asleep already?' I whisper.

'No.' He turns, his face now only inches from my own, and starts to gently stroke my hair. Which I take as an invitation and snuggle up to him, thankfully finding that he's fine with it. We don't say anything, the novelty of the situation is a bit overwhelming. As far as I'm concerned, I could stay like this forever, with my face in his hair, feeling his breathing slow against the skin of my arm. If Hogwarts burns down tonight, I won't care.

At some point I wonder if he's fallen asleep already and carefully move my right arm which has gone a bit dead.

'I've always wondered what it would feel like.' Remus mumbles sleepily.

'What do you mean?'

'This. Cuddling.'

'You've never been with anyone?'

'Not like this, no... Do you mind?'

'Stop worrying,' I nestle against him with my last powers of consciousness, 'now that I come to think of it I'm glad to hear you haven't bedded 40 Veelas yet...'

I can feel he's smiling as we both drift off to sleep.