For dimitrisgirl18's Big/Lil Sis comp with the prompts candle and grief.
"Promise me," she says, "that you'll come back in one piece, do you hear me, Remus Lupin?"
And he says I promise, shapes it into a grin and presses it to her lips, as if that will soothe the tremble of her nerves, the fearful ache in her chest.
When he leaves, he looks back and nods, and she tries to memorise the shine in his bright eyes.
Teddy begins to cry and she goes to comfort him, hoping he will do the same for her.
She hears whispers of the battle afterwards.
It was horrific, they say. Bodies strewn like leaves along the ground, children broken as snapped branches across the forest floor.
She imagines Remus, twisted spine and pain etched onto his face, and she screams until her throat is raw and every plate in the house sits like disastrous glitter on the kitchen floor, blinking in the light from the candle on the counter.
She stares at the flame, remembers how she had lit it last night, lazily, uncaringly, and kissed her husband goodbye. She stares now at the stump of wax that has melted down to almost nothing, at the dance of the fire as it flickers, and wonders how it is that something so destructive could outlive her Remus.
She does not stop watching until the hot wax has dried on the counter and the flame has died on the wick, black and crumbling.
She wonders what that feels like, and finds she already knows.
Her mother comes by wearing that widow's grief that Tonks can feel in her own face, etched into the frown lines by her mouth, pooling in her irises desperately; she knows that no matter how much she changes, they will never go.
"I know it's hard," her mother says, "but we won, Nymphadora. He helped us win."
"But now what?" she asks, and there is no answer except the warmth of her mother's arms and the cool drop of tears as they hit fall into her hair.
"Promise me," she sobs, "that you'll come back to me. Promise me, promise me, promise me."
But he is not there to promise, not there to kiss her fears away, not there to wrap her in his arms and tell her it'll all be okay. He's not there.
"Promise me," she whimpers, curling into his pillow and pretending it is him, letting his scent calm her shaking hands.
And then Teddy begins to cry and she goes to comfort him, hoping he will do the same for her.
He looks at her with his father's eyes and cries until morning. The sun rises behind her, and she hardly notices.
She knows that neither of them can be comforted. Not now.