A/N: The prompt from the rtchallenge for this piece was: "A woman can forgive a man for the harm he does her...but she can never forgive him for the sacrifices he makes on her account." --W. Somerset Maugham
Written at work whilst I should probably (for which read definitely ;)) have been getting on with things I'm paid for. Hence this may be crap. ;)
She stared.
Why?
The word slipped into her mind before she was even aware of it, invasive, pervasive, inescapable. Her eyes traced the outlines of gleaming white marble, glistening with inconsiderate brightness in the summer sun as she felt a hollow sadness surge within her heart, rippling out through her veins like the chill of winter.
He's gone. He's really gone.
It seemed impossible. It seemed wrong. In spite of his long absences, in spite of her resentment of some of the decisions he had made, it had felt to her as though whatever happened, he would always be there. His choices had hurt her badly but she had forgiven him for that, forgiven him for the brownness that had leeched away her cheerful pink, for the constant fear and misery that had lurked in her heart throughout what had soon become the longest year of her life. He had explained the reasons for his choice and she, however reluctantly, had accepted them.
But this...
How could she forgive him for this? How could she forgive him for leaving her, for leaving Harry, for leaving them all when there was so much still to be done?
You-Know-Who still waited. Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange, Severus Snape, Fenrir Greyback… all were still at large. All were still a threat. And yet he'd just stood there, just sacrificed himself to the killer blow and for what?
He should have fought back. Why didn't he fight back?
It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.
A presence loomed silently at her side. A hand, warm and gentle, slipped into hers. She glanced up.
Remus Lupin smiled at her, a sad, weary smile that seemed to carry the weight of the world upon it. Softly, he squeezed her fingers.
"Are you all right?" he asked gently.
Remus. At least that was something to be thankful for, at least some good had come of…
No, not good. That wasn't the right word at all, how could she say good had come from this, how could she be so selfish as to think…
She felt his fingers brush gently over her knuckles, soft reassurance that drew her out of her bitter musings. A soft gust of wind shivered across her cheeks, teasing her pinks locks as she managed a half-hearted smile. "It's just so hard," she admitted, her voice a tired, heavy murmur that seemed to inch its' way up from the very depths of her hear. "I was just so bloody angry with him this year, angry that he sent you away to live a life you hated, angry that living that life made you doubt everything we'd..." She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry. I know it was necessary. But I hate to think that he..." She swallowed hard, "...died... Merlin, that sounds so wrong... still thinking I hadn't forgiven him. That's why I went with pink." She fingered her hair once more. "He told me once it was his favourite."
Gently, Remus' arm snaked around her shoulders, pulling her close. She dropped her head against his shoulder, revelling for a brief, indulgent instant in how warm he was, how damned well here he was and just how much she loved him, loved his smile and his eyes, loved his touch, loved his kindness and his humour, even loved his bloody martyr complex…
Stop it. This isn't the time.
But when is a better time, what's a better tribute? He hated misery. He'd be happy for us. He'd be glad to see us together…
It seemed odd, discordant somehow, to be so happy and so melancholy all at once. But such, she supposed, was the mark of a good funeral.
If there is such a thing…
"He knew." Once more Remus' voice intruded on her absent thoughts, rich, she suspected, with the fruit of his own private musings - remembering just how much the older man had meant to the man she loved, Tonks tightened her own grip on his hand in response. "He always knew."
With a hint of bitterness, Tonks gestured to the tomb. "He didn't see this coming."
She felt Remus' cheek come to rest against the pink mass of her hair, sending a gentle warmth seeping down throughout her body that softened the chills and hard-edged hollowness inside her with the simple fact of his presence. "He might have done. But I suppose we'll never know."
"I suppose we won't." Tonks sighed once more, her eyes drifting over the slowly dispersing crowd around the gleaming tomb, familiar faces and utter strangers united in their grief. Sadness welled within her once more "But if he did..."
She felt Remus' hand tense slightly as his free fingers raked over her hair. "I suppose we'll never know that either. Come on, Tonks. Let's go."
Glancing up at him awkwardly, Tonks caught a glimpse of the lock of hair he was fingering. Its tip had turned distinctly brown.
Oh no. He liked pink and I'm staying pink.
She thought of the twinkle in his eyes when she visited his office after impersonating Snape in the Great Hall and ordering all the Slytherins to get down onto the floor and give her fifty. She remembered his reassuring pat on her shoulder when he led her into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place to meet her soon-to-be friends in the Order for the first time. She remembered his fond smile as he first introduced her to Remus…
She opened her eyes. The pink was restored.
Merlin, she was going to miss him.
I wish you'd fought. But I guess that was up to you…
Remus' arms closed gently around her. Holding him close in reply, she smiled slightly, her eyes tracing the lines of the marble tomb one final time.
I wish you were still with us, Professor, but just so as you know… Thanks to you, there's a little more love in the world…
And then, arm in arm with the man she loved, Tonks turned from the tomb and slowly moved on.