Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit from this piece of writing.

Invisible Part 3

I am the person you find impossible to miss. You can spot me in a crowd from a mile off, that's me, the one you're always waiting for, the one so bright it makes you smile. It's been that way for just a little while and I love it. The best part is that I'm not attention seeking, I'm just being me. It's true. And you spot me all the same.

It will always be true. And you will never miss me.

And it's ironic, don't you think, that the one person I make an effort for would still pick me out if I'd made no effort at all?

You are always with me. Sometimes I think you don't realise that other people exist.

We still sit next to each other at every Order meeting we attend, you hold my hand under the table. I steal your cups of tea when you're not looking and when you notice I've left lipstick upon the rim you smile and don't bother to ask if I would like my own cup, you know I'd rather share yours. We still have our chats, but we have our silences too, because kissing and talking are difficult to combine. Sometimes we stay up late with Sirius, keep him company until he falls asleep before the fire having drunk too much at dinner. Every time the two of us sit upon the sofa, side by side, talking in whispers so as not to wake my cousin, and I stare into the warm glow of the fire and think that it's wonderfully romantic, especially when you let me drape my legs across your lap and, between amused glances at our softly snoring companion, we snatch another kiss or two before I have to leave to catch forty winks before work the next morning.

A few times I've caught myself thinking foolishly that you might not be quite as interested in me as you first seem; those few days around the full moon when you are suddenly distant, when Sirius makes a joke about us and you look so deeply embarrassed.

But then I remember that you've never had anybody quite like me. Nobody else loves you quite like I do, you just need a bit of time, a bit of confidence, one of these days you'll laugh at Sirius' jokes and let me patch you up after the full moon without a hint of shame at all. And the best thing about remembering this is that it makes me love you even more.

I don't just love you, not really. I love you more than life itself. I love the way you leave notes under my door when I stay in the spare room, I love the way you defend my choice of appearance in front of Sirius, no matter how outrageous I chose to look, mumbling under your breath that you think me beautiful, just loud enough for me to hear, but quiet enough for him to miss. I love the way you turn small actions into grand gestures, and yet have no idea just how grand you really are.

I still love your modesty, no matter to what dizzying heights it soars. And I was right, I do like the reward better still.

I love the way you say my name, the way only you do. Dora's just fine, useful in fact, because you can't call me Tonks once I've married you. I will marry you. You might not know it yet, but I will. And once this war is over we're going to live happily ever after one way or another. I dream of it sometimes, and each time I wake I love the way I think myself silly and girly for thinking life is a fairytale, because in truth it isn't very silly. In truth it means I really am in love. Because true love is a bit like a fairytale, isn't it?

It's silly that I thought you would never even notice me.

I should have known better than that. Because your eyes were open the whole entire time. And now the long months of waiting are finally over.

You still can't believe I didn't fall to my death from atop the Burrow roof. And you still can't believe I shouted at the top of my lungs that I love you. Everybody else might have thought I was drunk, or have been too busy shouting at me to come down to truly hear me. But you heard me. And I will never be invisible ever again.