Author's Note: You might have noticed that the other chapters were slightly Tonks-centric. That's because I wanted to write the last one exclusively from Remus' point of view. Thus, I give you "Pregnant?! – Chapter 4", hoping that, after you read it, you give me a flame or review!

Disclaimer: If I ask J.K. really nicely, do you think she'll give me the rights to HP?

Pacing

Yes, he was aware he needed his heart to beat to stay alive, but was it really necessary to feel it pounding in his head? He thought briefly about squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, but discarded it when he noticed it only made it worse. Bile rose up his throat and he swallowed.

Why the hangover?

And then he remembered how he had tried to drown in eight bottles of Firewhisky the night before. Thankfully, he'd only gotten through the first three – his stomach would have been higher up his windpipe if he'd continued – but why had he gotten drunk in the first place?

Oh, right: because he was a coward. Harry had said so.

Remus groaned inwardly, angry at himself and angry at everything, as the scene replayed itself in his head. Mad at Tonks and at how she'd unceremoniously thrown him out, he'd been unable to hide his irritation when they had mentioned her name. Instead of finding compassion, he'd found contempt, and the ensuing fight ended with him harming Harry before slamming the door on the way out.

If his shame was any indication at the moment, he was sorry about it, really, but there was no way he could contact Harry to say so. They would have probably moved on already, in which case he might endanger them by revealing their position, or they would have found some way to shut him out, like Sirius had so many years ago, like Tonks was doing now…

Because she had finally pushed him away, there was no denying that. He had said he wanted to look for Harry, to give him some guidance so that the war could end, so that their child could grow up in a happier place.

She had asked him to leave.

His heart seemed to drum faster at the thought, and he felt nauseous again: she probably never really wanted him in her life anyway. Since the wedding, he'd been feeling increasingly guilty for linking her to his condition, and her pregnancy had heightened his remorse. She probably regretted all of it. If he could only make it up to her! If she could only let him try!

But he had tried so hard already… Even back then, when Bill and Fleur had arrived with the wretched news, he had tried. He had silenced their conversation about looking for Moody's body after seeing her reaction to his death, because he was afraid so many strong emotions in one day might hurt her or the child. Didn't she notice how much he cared?

Yet she had said she knew he had only been pretending. How could she say that?! He loved her! He loved her so much that he would die for her, that he was afraid he'd hurt himself, that he could swear he still sensed her right there next to him –

Wait, he could actually still smell her. Where was he? Opening his eyes hazily, he noticed that he wasn't at their place, though the bed did have her scent and the room seemed familiar, and though to his left he had spotted a basin with blood-tainted water –

BLOOD?! Where was he?!

He stood up unsteadily, trying unsuccessfully to find her, thinking he had finally gone mad. He didn't remember anything, but he knew he had killed her, he was sure of it from the way his front was drenched in red although the skin underneath felt dry. Or maybe had hurt her, quite seriously at the very least. Was she now a lycanthrope, like him? Had she even survived? Every second that passed made him more hysterical, made his thoughts more erratic. Before long, he was ignoring his migraine, crying his heart out curled in a ball on the floor.

And then he heard movement.

Just as suddenly as his unbalanced sobbing had started, it was gone, replaced by a creepy alertness that his brain told him always came before discovering a tragedy. The same kind of awareness of everything that he'd felt on October 31st so many years ago…

He moved towards the door, wanting and not wanting to see Tonks' body writhing on the floor in a pool of blood. Maybe he could still save her, maybe it wasn't too late –

But the door opened before he got to it, and in front of him stood Cesia.
"F–"
"Sorry, Remus, didn't mean to scare you."
"–UCK!"
"I take it you were expecting someone else?"
"Tonks – I thought Tonks –"
"Tonks isn't here. It's just us."

The hangover, the delusion of having murdered Tonks and the surprise of realizing he was at Cesia's place were too much for him to handle and, already on edge, the way she talked distressed him beyond words or, in any case, beyond complete sentences.
"Us?"
"It's just us." - She repeated softly.

Ignoring his look of confusion, she tried to force him carefully back into bed.
"No! Cesia, please! Don't!"
"It'll be alright."
"Please!"
"I already know how you like it. I promise I'll be good: it'll over before you know it."
"What?!"
"Just relax for a second, will you?"

Scared, he allowed her to settle him back on the duvet. Slowly, she started to peel the shirt off his chest and he grabbed her hands, panicking.
"No, no! She'll never have me back!"
"She will. It'll be fine. But let's get this over with. Merlin knows you need it."
"Need it?!"
"Don't tell me you didn't see the water?" – She asked, smiling.

Having absolutely no idea of what she meant by that though he felt like he should, he let his hands slacken. She looked at him for a moment and then took out her wand.
"I think I better…" – She restrained him with a spell, frowning at the way his stare changed from nonplussed to terrified. – "Shhh… I won't hurt you…"

He closed his eyes, cursing: what the hell was going on? He tried in vain to wake up, trying to convince himself that this was a nightmare and that it'd soon be over, but some movements later he had to acknowledge he was conscious and that he'd been completely undressed, with the way he could feel a breeze in his – well, everywhere. Tears were now coming out of the corner of his eyelids, and he didn't know if it was because he was crying or because his eyes were shut so tight he could see stars.

He felt Cesia's weight lifting from the bed and then something warm and wet hesitantly brushing against his chest. His gasp of surprise made her chuckle and he knew something other than his brain was throbbing.
"Is proper Remus having indecent thoughts?" – She asked, sounding thoroughly pleased.

He refused to give her an answer, but apparently she didn't need one to start moving down in circles towards his stomach. She then proceeded to his thighs, making coy advances towards his pelvis, and he bit back a grunt, feeling like everything melted away under her touch. It was relatively relaxing, slightly distracting, but he'd never admit to it. After some minutes under her ministrations, however, he started feeling frustrated that she still hadn't gone past demure strokes and unto bolder ones. What was she doing? How long would it last?
"Just get it over with." – He told her callously.

She punched him.
"OW! Damn it, Cesia!" – His eyes opened in anger, but that was soon substituted by a gaze of mortification: she, completely dressed, was applying Murtlap Essence to his wounds.
"I know what you were thinking." – She said, and didn't seem to mind it much. – "We can try that later. But as for right now, I'm just trying to see if I can send you back to Tonks without it looking like you and a thorn bush went out on a date."

Carefully, she gauzed up his body and turned him over, with definitely less gentleness, to take care of his back.

He paced outside the residence for a short while, unsure of what to do: knowing her, she might have instructed them to curse him on the spot. However, being outside in wartime wasn't very wise either, so he plucked up the courage to knock the door.

The person who opened it looked at him for a second, probably wondering at how the dressings made the werewolf look plump, before letting him in without hexing him. This surprised Remus, since the guide's face was devoid of emotion and since it didn't seem like the person was leading him into a trap. Remus was silently shown to a lamp-lit sitting room, where Tonks lay on a sofa with her eyes closed.

She looked slightly less pale than she had been, but otherwise her state wasn't showing, not that Remus had had any idea of what he had expected her to look like. Had it really been so long since he'd last seen her?

Stalling, he sighed.
"Will you stay this time?" – She asked, without opening her eyes.
"I never meant to leave in the first place." – He replied.

Lee's question made him frown in concentration. What would he tell Harry if the boy was listening?
"I'd tell him we're all with him in spirit… And I'd tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right."

Because, in the end, they had sorted everything out and Tonks had happily gone back to living with him.

He'd asked them not to silence the room in case she wanted him with her, and they had agreed. Now he didn't know if it had been such a good idea after all, as it was impossible to stop pacing back and forth while hearing her moaning in pain.

Even worse, with every step something in him made him want to run again, to go before he was in too deep, to continue walking until he was out the door… But he wouldn't leave her again. He had stayed this long, because he loved her.

He'd stay with her forever.

Yet thankfully, although for him (and probably for Tonks as well) her struggle had lasted a whole day, after less than an hour of whimpering and pushing he heard the child's first cry.
"It's a boy, Remus! It's a normal, healthy boy!"

He had already known its gender, but found himself overwhelmed by ecstatic tears anyway. It was a boy, the baby was his boy, and it was healthy. The kid wasn't a cub, a newborn werewolf, it wasn't–

His wife's sudden shriek of surprise made him jump, and he ran into the room to find Tonks holding the child at arms length with wide eyes.
"What's wrong?! What's wrong?!" – He yelled in panic.

Wordlessly, she turned the child around to face him: Ted Lupin's hair was slowly turning purple…

And before he knew it, Remus had left her again, one last time, running with all his strength, running with all his might to somewhere from where he could apparate away, with only one thought in his head: telling anyone and everyone that his child was not only healthy; like his mother, his boy wasn't only perfect, his boy wasn't commonly unique –

His Teddy was a Metamorphmagus!

Author's note: Well, last chapter and last author's note. I really hope this ending was satisfying to those of you who were anxiously waiting to read it. In my personal case, I decided to write it this way because I haven't really found many fics about why Remus left, and even less about why he decided to come back. Plus, I think it's a new take on why he did both. Now, only one thing is missing: your flame or review! Cheers!