He apparated to the front door of her flat, not daring to try apparating directly into the apartment, and paused. Molly was prone to worry, it was true. But even in such a depressed state as Tonks' had been reported to be experiencing, he could not imagine the young woman would entertain such an idea.
Then again, she would not intentionally worry Molly either. And if what Molly said had truly been spoken by Tonks, then they needed to sit down and have a very long and possibly detailed discussion.
From the other side of the door, muffled thumps and the tinkling of shattering glass let him know that Tonks had arrived home in more or less one piece - at least in enough of a piece that her clumsiness had not yet left her.
He knocked on the wooden doorjamb, listening for some sign that she had heard him above the racket she was creating. With no response, he was left to decide if she had truly not heard the rap or if she was pointedly ignoring it.
"Nymphadora." He waited - she had definitely heard that - the sounds from within the flat had ceased, allowing hollow silence to fill the sudden void. "Nymphadora," he repeated slightly louder although he knew she could hear him. "Please, let me in."
He heard something that might have been a 'no' but it was difficult to determine for certain. "Please, Nymphadora, just open the door."
The tapping of a wand against the wood encouraged him to stand back. Actually, it was not a tapping so much as a pounding and Remus decided he would not be half surprised to find that she had snapped the thing in two when she was finally done uncharming the doorway. The door was finally wrenched open to reveal Tonks in an even more disheveled state than she had been in when she had fled the Weasley's kitchen.
"Well?"
Her eyes were fiery, even without the help of morphing and in their natural state, and Remus was dumbfounded with the force of her emotion. He watched her face, looking for some trace of the recklessness Molly had eluded to and he found it flickering in the eyes that stared back at him.
"You have Molly concerned," he began, knowing he had mis-spoken the instant the words had passed his lips. "What I mean to say is that you have us all concerned."
The set of her mouth convinced him that if he expected to be anywhere other than standing outside her flat, he would need to start talking about more than the rest of the Order.
"Molly told me of what you said at tea."
Still unmoved, Tonks crossed her arms over her chest and Remus was startled to see tiny rivulets of blood streaking her arms.
"Nymphadora, what have you done to yourself?" He reached toward her, taking her arms gently in his hands and unfolding them to peer at the cuts that ran the length of them.
"It wasn't intentional," she muttered. "Apparated into my flat and fell into the window. I'm fine."
"That is obviously not the case." Not releasing his grip on her now that he had managed to get one, he eased her back toward her kitchen. There were slivers of glass strewn across the floor along with a smattering of blood droplets, evidence of her accident. The window that looked out onto Diagon Alley was shattered, only jagged pieces of glass still left clinging to the edges.
With a quiet reparo charm, he had the window whole again, even if Tonks was not. Remus drew her into a chair under the bright light of the kitchen and delicately traced the slices in her skin. Years of repairing his own injuries had served him well in the field of medi-wizadry and soon only the drying streaks of blood remained to bear silent witness to her earlier hurts. He slipped his wand back into his pocket, allowing Tonks to slowly slide away from him.
"I came because of what you said to Molly."
"Is that supposed to make me take my words back? Because, I don't. I never meant for you to hear them, but my feelings remain the same." Tonks folded in on herself in the chair, drawing her bent legs up to her chest and tightly wrapping her arms around them while she dropped her chin to her knees.
"Nymphadora, I would never have you so much as suggest such a thing."
"It's too late."
"As long as you are still whole, it isn't too late."
She met his eyes, the force behind her gaze staggering but he held it regardless. Slowly and with great care, she repeated, "it's too late."
/to be continued/
