Stuff
She seemed to have left almost everything she'd ever owned in Remus' cottage. Every so often he'd tried to give the stuff he'd found back to her, but he obviously hadn't tried hard enough because now he'd found her possessions everywhere. Her hair-bands by the sink. Her jotter on his bookshelf. Her socks under the bed. In one of his drawers he'd found a music magazine, a pyjama top and a pair of underwear that he'd been meaning to hand back (the thought of her leaving her knickers in his bedroom made him blush, and he knows that she would have sniggered at his embarrassment). Now, they all went in the box along with the hair-bands, jotter and socks. Remus planned to give the box to Kingsley with instruction to pass it on to her. He wouldn't see her himself. A couple of days after he told Tonks he was ending them, Remus had written to Dumbledore telling him he was available for any long-term investigation required. He remembered a conversation a while ago in which Dumbledore mentioned infiltrating Greyback's werewolf pack. Remus had written that he could do that, or try to work with the centaurs, or go abroad if necessary. Anything not to have to see her. Anything not to hurt her more than he already had. As for his own pain- it was his fault, he deserved it. Deserved having to fold up Tonks' pyjama t-shirt, with the smell of her morning coffee clinging to it, and the memories of the times he'd seen her wear it. She hadn't bought pyjamas over for ages. She said she kept forgetting. The t-shirt was bright blue with Down Vith Children emblazoned across the chest. Tonks had tried to explain the reference about ten times, and Remus kept pretending to forget because it wound her up. They'd done a lot of winding each other up. She was fun to be with like that, in a way which even Sirius wasn't. She was silly and unpredictable and often, Remus suspected, barking mad. She had made him feel so alive.
He put the folded t-shirt into the box. He'd investigate the bathroom next. All the soaps and shampoos she'd bought him were there, because she said he deserved better than the cheapest soaps in the shop. She was so kind to him. At her place, she had more types of hair product that Remus had known existed. During the week she could shower in two minutes, but on the weekend she liked to take ages, and sometimes he'd climb in too. She'd wash his hair, rubbing soapy circles on his scalp. He'd loved that. Here, Remus was worried that long showers ran up the water bill, but when he'd mentioned it in her flat Tonks had looked at him like he was insane, then shrugged that it was nothing to worry about. Investigating the bathroom now, Remus only found a tube of eyeliner left by the mirror. He hadn't realised that she'd owned so much make-up. The tube was half-empty and sticky, but Remus put it in the box anyway. He wasn't binning or keeping anything. He didn't want any reminders of her. Getting Dora Tonks out of his head was going to be difficult enough, so he didn't need to keep any of her stuff here to taunt him. Even if he wanted to, he didn't deserve it. He'd taken too much from her already.
It took Remus another half-hour to collate all of Tonks' belongings. He double-checked every room and kept finding something new. One of her crime thriller novels was wedged into his bookshelf. A pair of her ridiculous fingerless leather gloves were stuffed in his coat pocket. In a kitchen cupboard was a packet Dora's coffee, a box of biscuits she'd brought over but they hadn't got round to eating. Remus searched through his pockets and bedside drawer for the notes she wrote him, hastily scrawled on a torn-out square of parchment. You look well fit today. See you in the Study in 10 mins? and Didn't want to wake you up. Owl me if you're free later xxx and THIS IS THE DULLEST MEETING EVER. These notes usually ended in at least four exclamation marks- one was never enough for her. She was exclamation marks and question marks, sarky asides in brackets and suspenseful ellipses. He was a comma. Useful but boring. Easy to overlook. He should have put a full stop to them long before he did. Remus did a final sweep of his bedroom, wrote N Tonks c/o Shaklebolt on the side of the box, and sealed the lid shut.
He didn't leave a thing. Not a quill, not a shoe-lace, not a chocolate wrapper. He'd lent her books a few times but, knowing how important his books were to him, Tonks had always made sure to give them back (sometimes she lied about having read them and Remus would give her his Professor glare and ask her a question about it. When she'd get it wrong he'd sigh wearily, make a haughty, unimpressed comment and leave the disappointment hanging in the air for a moment. And then he'd wink). Now, alone in her flat with a suitcase open on the floor, Tonks wished that she'd kept a book. Just one item to prove that he'd been here and that they'd been a them. Without any of Remus' stuff it felt like it could have been a dream of the most wonderful three months and the most wonderful man, until he became dimmed by grief and fear ("Would you being doing this if Sirius hadn't died?" she'd asked through tears when he told her he was ending it. He'd taken her to a Muggle pub, which she now realised was an attempt to avoid her making a scene. Tough luck because Nymphadora Tonks was not one to go quietly, "Well, would you?"
"I don't know," he murmured, "I hope so. I'm ashamed it's taken this long for me to realise how selfish I've been,"
He looked miserable. Since Sirius died Tonks had wanted to hold and comfort him- they could help each other through the grief. But instead he'd been mumbly and detached, and now she understood why. She wanted to shout that it been lovely and meaningful and fun, not selfish. But the tears came harder, and all she could do was cry and kick the table, and everybody in the pub stared). That was the start of July. It was nearly the end of August now, and she was going away to Hogsmeade in a few days. Tonks wasn't sure if that would make her feel better or worse. Perhaps a change of scene might be good, but she doubted it'd stop her feeling so lost and anxious. She wished Remus had left a shirt or a cardigan; something she could remember him wearing, something that smelled like him. She'd loved wearing his clothes. She kept pretending to forget to bring pyjamas to his place because she liked wearing his shirt and boxers to bed. And Merlin, it had been a turn-on to smell his clothes and feel their warmth on her and be where his skin had been, with the real Remus lying beside her. She'd liked using his soap too, so she could smell him and smell like him. She liked being like him.
She didn't even have a page of his handwriting (it was messier than she expected. Sirius' was very neat). At this rate Tonks would take having a hairbrush or a sock. But Remus looked after his possessions carefully because he didn't have many. Before he'd gone away to the werewolf camp he'd sent, via Kingsley, a box of all the clothes, books and assorted crap that Tonks had left in his cottage. Before, when he'd hand her back a jacket or notebook she'd left there, Tonks would laugh and shrug, but the box made her blush ashamedly. He probably thought she'd was a right slob because she kept losing stuff and leaving her things lying around. Or he reckoned she was spoilt because she never needed to be as fastidious as he did, because her family could afford to replace stuff that got lost or broken. She'd been careless at the Ministry battle too, and now she'd lost Sirius and broken Remus. By not protecting his best friend she'd hurt him so badly that she didn't deserve to have a reminder of him. He told her to forget him ("How? How can I forget you? I love you,") although Tonks wasn't sure if the box proved that Remus wanted to forget about her too. There were a couple of hairbands in the bottom of the box, and she'd need them more now that her hair had turned long and lank.
Tonks chucked another pair of socks into her trunk. Perhaps going away wouldn't make any difference. There'd be as much stuff in Hogsmeade to remind of her Remus as there was at home- zero. And truthfully, the stuff wasn't what mattered. England or Scotland, Manchester or Hogsmeade- it didn't make any difference, because wherever she was and however much of his stuff she had with her, she'd be loving him, and worrying for him, and missing him.
