Tonks's hand trembled as she held Remus's note. She couldn't tear her eyes off the words written on the parchment, and her ears started ringing as she contemplated what it meant.
"He can't be . . ." she gasped, her knees growing weak, unable to even finish the thought. Guilt, shame, and paralyzing terror kept her in place. She could hardly think, not with the almost certain likelihood that Remus was no longer—
No.
She wouldn't let herself think it. She shook, remembering her Auror training, and reached for her wand. Her instinct was to send a Patronus, to send for help, and try as she might, every memory was failing her. Nothing but silvery wisps came out of her wand as she cried the incantation, weeping harder when each attempt was worse than the previous one.
Remus's wedding ring shone on the floor as the sun's rays gleamed through the clouds outside. Tonks focused her energy on the ring and the moment she'd put it on his finger. His eyes were warm and honey brown, his lined face looked younger, and his lips . . . soft, firm, soon on hers, giving her one of the most spectacular kisses of her life . . . he'd held her tenderly, grazing her backside, leaving her breathless.
A large, four-legged thing shot out of Tonks's wand. Dumbfounded at the appearance of a wolf, and momentarily too stunned to marvel at it, overcome with the reminder of Remus, she sent a message to the first face that came to mind.
"H-help," she stammered at the silvery wolf, "he's gone and left a note. I'm afraid he's killed him—" She choked and flicked her wand at the Patronus, incapable of finishing the thought. She sank down to the floor and put her head between her knees. Violent, painful sobs wracked her body, worse than anything she'd ever experienced, worse than any pain he'd caused her, even worse than her father's—
"TONKS!" Sirius bellowed, thundering up the stairs. A string of expletives followed, as Walburga's portrait screeched, but the footsteps got louder. He burst through the door and skidded across the floor, his wand clattering down and sending sparks everywhere.
Tonks screamed, flinging her body down, wanting to tear herself apart. Sirius was saying something, his own panicked voice rising as he read through the letter, saying repeatedly that "it can't be true." She heard her name over the screaming portrait and her own agonized howls, and then felt two strong hands hold her up, shaking her.
"We need to find him," Sirius urged, every syllable shaking her frame a little more. "Where do you think he is?"
"I . . . I . . . I . . ."
"Fuck." Sirius let her go and sent his dog-shaped Patronus out while Tonks tried to gather her wits. She knew she couldn't fall apart, not if she was going to be of any use, and she summoned all her training to set aside her feelings.
He's just another missing person.
Remus's wedding ring glowed in the light again. Tonks shook her head and focused her mind on the ornate pattern of the Persian rug on the floor, steadying her breath with the repeated lines.
Patronuses came back, each one bearing a new message. Dumbledore's phoenix announced his search among the known werewolf settlements, Kingsley and Arthur would look through the Ministry records for any sign of unusual werewolf activity, and other Order members promised they'd search in their areas.
"Have you checked here?"
Tonks chattered her teeth. The late July heat couldn't warm the freezing, churning sensation in her body, and she feared she was going into shock.
"KREACHER!"
The leathery old elf appeared with a crack and sneered at Tonks before turning to Sirius.
"Master requests—"
"Find Remus," Sirius barked. "Come back as soon as you've found him and tell us where he is."
The elf was gone for mere seconds.
"The half-breed is in my mistress's finest guest room, oh how she'd—"
"Shut up!" Sirius growled, grabbing Tonks by the arm. He lifted her up from the floor and dragged her down the stairs, Walburga still screeching obscenities at them.
Sirius cast his Patronus again as he half-sprinted down the corridor where the spare room was, asking Kingsley to update the others and send for medical help from whoever was available.
When they got close to the door, however, a magical boundary shimmered and sent them flying back. Sirius groaned, muttering colorful language, and began the process of undoing the powerful charms Remus had cast. Tonks was too shaky to help; she clutched at the walls, barely able to hold herself up.
The portrait suddenly stopped shrieking. Madam Pomfrey and Snape were abruptly in the way, but they helped Sirius through the charms, though they stopped when they reached the door.
"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!" Sirius blasted the door off its hinges. The stench coming from the spare room was unbearable: putrid, acidic vomit, pungent excrement, and the stale, but sharp odor of urine wafted out at once.
Tonks retched onto the worn rug in the corridor. She was vaguely aware of Sirius barking an order at Kreacher to vanish her mess. Beyond her, Snape and Pomfrey rushed inside the room, with Sirius on their heels. Her eyes filled with tears as the acidic bile filled her nostrils, but despite the pain, she grasped the walls, pushing herself forward to find Remus.
"Let—me—through," she wheezed, wiping her tears away. Sirius, Snape, and Pomfrey were on the floor, crowding her vision, each working quickly and finally, Tonks shoved her face next to the hospital matron.
It was a good thing she'd retched everything she had left inside her body.
The figure on the floor didn't look anything like her Remus. He was pale and gray, at least the parts of him that weren't mangled, with cords of tendon and tissue ripped apart and hanging outside his body. Pomfrey was rearranging him by hand, with Snape half-chanting incantations under his breath, each one seeming to reassemble Remus's crushed body.
"I'VE GOT A PULSE!" Sirius shouted, holding up Remus's bony wrist. Pomfrey snatched it, her fingers covered in scarlet blood, and even Snape stopped his work as they were plunged into stifling silence.
"Yes," Pomfrey gasped, looking up at Sirius, "yes, he's alive." She went back to work, closing Remus's thin chest, tucking his ribs back into place, while Snape continued his low chanting. Before Remus's hand could fall to the floor, Tonks grabbed it and held it to her face, where more tears sprung from her eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she cried, bending down to kiss his blood-crusted forehead. "I love you, Remus, please don't die, you've got to live—"
"Silence," Snape scolded, his inky eyes meeting Tonks's. She almost fought, but Remus was being put back together, still grey, pale, and unmoving as one vial after another came out of Snape's robe pocket. Pomfrey kept Remus's mouth open—another gasp escaped Tonks's throat, seeing the broken, bloodied teeth—and Sirius worked his fingers into Remus's chest to get the potions inside his body.
Tonks continued pleading for Remus's survival within the quiet of her heart. Purplish bruises appeared around his neck; what had he done to himself?
As if he could hear her thoughts, Snape broke the silence.
"Poison, near-asphyxiation, and blunt force trauma," he said silkily.
Pomfrey nodded, her wand forming a small trumpet, and she bent forward, pressing her ear against one end and the other on Remus's newly stitched chest.
"It was powdered silver," said Sirius, his wand lifting grains of shiny, silvery powder into the air. "It can only be used to seal werewolf bites. It's fatal if consumed."
"Asphyxiation?" Tonks asked blankly.
"The neck wounds," Pomfrey said, sniffling.
"He must've tried to suffocate himself before moonrise." Sirius lifted a set of metal chains, which were bloody and rusting. "We found it around his neck . . . Moony would've fought against them, against the poison . . ."
"Remus," Tonks whispered, finally seeing his chest rise and fall with barely-there, shallow breaths.
"He'll need round the clock care." Pomfrey gingerly took the hand that Tonks was holding and cast charms on it, resetting the bones and healing the surface lacerations. "He won't be conscious for some time."
"I should've been here," Sirius croaked, the chains loose in his hands. "I should've checked—"
"This is my fault," Tonks sobbed, skimming her lips along Remus's jawline. "It's my fault he did this. I should've—"
"This is no one's fault," Pomfrey said firmly, her stern gaze flitting between Tonks and Sirius. "Whatever happened here is no one's fault. When Remus wakes, we will help. He shouldn't be left alone."
"I'll be here—"
"I'm not going anywhere—"
Tonks and Sirius spoke over each other. She fell silent, gazing at Remus's surroundings. It was clear this is the room he had been occupying for weeks. It reeked of bodily fluids; moldy, fuzzy food littered the corners. Remus's ribs were painfully visible—he had to have been starving himself.
"Sirius," Tonks said shakily, "tell my mum I'm going to be here. You stay with her and Harry. Remus needs me."
"You'll need to rest," Pomfrey said, this time her eyes softening. She turned to Snape and met his gaze, nodding slightly. He stood, adjusted his robes, and wrinkled his nose down at Remus.
"I will send the required potions," he said, eyeing the surroundings with contempt. With a sharp twist of his wand and a disapproving scowl, he cleared a path for himself and glided out of the room.
Pomfrey grimaced. "He means well," she mumbled, maneuvering Remus's limp limbs. Sirius's eyes were glistening, and he turned around, continuing the work of putting the spare room back together. Tonks moved closer to Remus, placing her small hand on his chest, feeling the tender, newly healed skin under her fingertips.
"This isn't your fault," Pomfrey murmured, squeezing Tonks's forearm. Tonks looked up, her vision blurry from the tears that wouldn't stop, and bit back a wail. "These things happen, Miss Tonks. It's never anyone's fault. You must remember this."
Tonks nodded weakly, but the words meant nothing to her. She'd walked out on Remus. She'd told him she hoped he'd die miserable and alone.
"Listen to me." Pomfrey's voice was low and soft. Tonks wiped the tears away and sat back on her heels, feeling wretched. "Remus has always been a troubled young man. He's had a difficult life—you've done nothing wrong. Would it help if . . . if I were here when he wakes?" Tonks bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to be there when Remus woke up, if only to assure him that she loved him, but perhaps it would be too much. Perhaps she'd hurt him so badly he wouldn't want to see her.
"Please—" Tonks hung her head and let a low sob escape her. "You should be here, Madam Pomfrey. I'll wait until he's ready to see me."
Pomfrey's eyes crinkled downwards. "He'll want to see you. This is what we'll do—I'll help rearrange this room. You rest, get your things, and I'll come to get you when he's ready."
"I'll get your things," Sirius offered, his eyes puffy and pink. "I'll tell your mum too."
Remus twitched in his sleep. Tonks took one of his hands, kissed each of his fingers, and prayed he'd heal soon.
Death, as it turned out, was excruciating.
In fact, if it hadn't been for the lethal amount of silver he'd consumed or the chains he'd charmed around his neck to ensure his quick suffocation, ensuring he wouldn't survive long past moonrise, Remus would've assumed someone was casting the Cruciatus Curse on him.
Everything in his body throbbed. A headache pounded from behind his eyes. His mouth felt jagged and broken, as if the inside of his cheeks had been slashed. His skin felt hot and stretched in the wrong places. Every bone felt spongy and ached from the inside out.
But there was a voice, a mild voice, ushering him out of the abyss between life and death. Something cool and soothing touched his lips, radiating relief from his head to his toes. This felt better, more like what he expected from ending his own life. It almost pained him to do it, but the sweet release of oblivion was better than living like a ghost and waiting for death to find him naturally.
At least he wouldn't be a burden to anyone anymore, and Nymphadora wouldn't have anything holding her back from moving on. She would find someone to build a life with her, the kind of life that was worth living for.
"That's it, my dear," said the voice. "Just like that, just like when you were a boy."
Remus's heart did a little dance. He'd never believed in an afterlife, but if it was real, he longed to see his mother. The voice reminded him of her, as did the gentle touches that pressed along his weary body.
"M . . . am?" he risked, his voice raspier than ever. His eyelid quivered open, but he saw only soft whites and the vague outline of a face.
"It's going to be a long while until you feel like yourself again."
The voice was clearer now. It wasn't his mother's, but it wasn't unfamiliar.
"Your vision will be blurry, but not for long. Try to open your eyes and wiggle your fingers and toes. It's a miracle you made it."
Remus tried to snort. So there was an afterlife, and he'd made it to the pleasant part, despite his many sins. The room was growing clearer as he blinked his eyes. It looked like the bedroom he'd shared with Nymphadora. The face hovering near his wasn't one he expected.
When had Madam Pomfrey died?
"There you are." Poppy smiled and held Remus's cheek in her hand. "We've been so worried about you."
"Am . . . am . . . dead?" Remus's tongue felt swollen and wrong.
"No, dear." Poppy sat down on the edge of the bed and held one of Remus's hands. "You tried very hard to make it so, but your wife found your note. She's the reason you're still here."
A lump formed in his throat. Heat rushed up to his face and neck. He'd failed, and of all the people to find his parting words, he hadn't wanted it to be Tonks. He hadn't the foggiest as to why she'd even been at Grimmauld Place, not after she'd rightfully ended their marriage.
"I'm not going to ask why or how you did this," Poppy continued, pressing a chilled glass of water to Remus's lips, helping him swallow its contents. "I'm here to help you and give you a few options." The glass was set aside and a purplish vial replaced it. Whatever was in it, Remus felt a wave of calm wash over him.
"Understandably, we don't want to leave you alone. Your wife and Sirius are here. They've been waiting to see you, if you're willing—"
"I don't . . ." Remus swallowed and felt a sting in his eyes. "I don't . . . have a wife . . . anymore."
"Mrs. Lupin is still your wife," said Poppy, a little too kindly.
All that Remus could anticipate was his failed attempt on his life causing Tonks even more guilt. Or, he thought darkly, the matron was lying to him. She could be telling him what he wanted to hear so he'd live to see another miserable, lonely day, just as Tonks envisioned for him.
"It's quite late . . ." The matron flitted her eyes to the door. "Will you let one of them see you? They've been beside themselves."
It was then that Remus saw the dark circles under her eyes. He could only guess when he was found, and in what condition, and felt another surge of shame that he'd inconvenienced so many.
He couldn't see Tonks—he didn't trust himself not to say anything that would guilt her into spending more time with him. It left him only one choice.
"Sirius," he croaked.
Poppy's eyes widened slightly but she neutralized her features and adjusted the potions on his bedside. "I'll let him know," she said briskly. "I'll come in the morning with more potions and to check on your injuries." She stood straight and ran her eyes over his body, sighing softly. "I'm very glad we didn't lose you, Remus." The emotion was palpable in her tone, and she gave his hand one more squeeze.
Only a few seconds passed by between one person's departure and the other's arrival.
"Moony."
Sirius had his hands in his pockets. He too had dark circles under his eyes, though they were pinker than Remus remembered.
"You gave us a scare, mate." Sirius shuffled across the room and approached the bed, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. "I didn't realize it'd been so bad for you . . . I'm sorry. I should've been there." Sirius looked down at Remus, an unusually vulnerable look on his face. He shook his head and plopped into a chair next to the bedside. "If I'd known . . . but I know now. I'm not going anywhere."
Remus blinked several times. It felt wrong to have Sirius there; his heart ached for Nymphadora.
"Dora," he wheezed. "I want . . . to see her."
Sirius's brow furrowed. "Pomfrey said you didn't want to talk to her yet."
"Changed . . . my mind." Remus knew he was weak, and as further thoughts led him to wonder when he'd try to take his life again, he could think only of Tonks, of wanting to hold her hand and see her sweet face one more time.
"Right." Sirius cleared his throat and stood, adjusting his robes. "I'll have her come in. She's . . . she's been . . ." He seemed to think better of what he was saying and shook his head. "She'll be here soon. I'll be available whenever you need me." He shuffled back out, and in his place, a wretched-looking Tonks stepped inside.
Remus fought the tears that threatened to spill out when he saw her. He was torn between asking her to leave and telling her it was a mistake, and begging her to kiss him, to give him one last ounce of comfort.
The faintest "Remus" came out of her lovely lips.
Her steps were light and tentative, as if she were approaching a wild animal. He could see the fear and terror in her eyes. She got closer, and with each inch that closed between the two of them, Remus could see more features of her face. She hadn't been sleeping well. Her clothes were a little looser on her frame, and her hair was that stubborn, limp brown she despised. Her eyes twinkled, even when framed in wet lashes, and Remus ached, desperate to take his hand and feel the smooth expanse of her skin.
He was terrified of forgetting any detail about her, no matter how small.
"I don't want to talk about everything yet," she said, her voice quaking. Her arm was coming up, her palm outstretched, getting closer and closer to him. "I was terrified. Remus . . . I'm so happy you're okay." Tonks burst into loud, gasping sobs and launched herself onto him.
"Don't—ever—do—that—again!" She sobbed, her face buried in the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know. I didn't know how bad it was, how much you needed us, how hurt you were! You were in pain and I didn't know—I was thinking about myself, not knowing you were even worse—"
"Dora," Remus breathed, selfishly nuzzling his nose into her hair, "I . . . m-missed you."
Tonks continued babbling tearfully, but Remus wasn't paying attention to what she said. He was inhaling her scent, feeling her wet cheek against his sore, tender skin, relishing in the warmth of her body so close to his. He could pretend here, like he had before. He could return to the wonderful fantasy of his married life and hold onto it for a little longer.
The tears gradually disappeared. In the most surprising, delightful move, Tonks joined him in the bed, just like it was when they were blissfully ignorant of the realities awaiting them.
It was agonizing and intoxicating all at once.
"We're going to talk more," said Tonks, holding his face in her hands. "Not tonight. Soon . .. when you're better. We'll talk about what happened, all of it. I'm afraid I never understood you—not until—" The tears flowed again down her cheeks, chin, and neck. She said more, something about needing sleep, and Remus dutifully obeyed when she tipped a vial down his throat.
The guilt could wait until morning.
