"One step at a time, sweetheart. Don't exert yourself."

Remus grunted, pushing the zimmer frame forward and placing one foot in front of the other. Despite moving at a snail's pace, his legs were ready to give up. He glanced at his reflection in the bathroom's mirror and turned away at once.

His self-imposed brush with death had left him looking every bit the monster he held within. He was skeletally thin, had black-and-purple, splotchy bruises around his neck, and multiple, still-healing cuts along his jaw and cheeks. It was a good thing he was fully dressed, as his naked body was almost entirely covered in horrific bruises and vines of pink, tender scars.

"Just a little more," Tonks encouraged, backing up into the next room. "You're doing so well."

Though his body begged for a rest, Remus wouldn't give in. The sooner he was healed, the better. He'd grown tired of three days' non-stop supervision from a revolving door of "helpers" and longed for freedom.

The zimmer frame's wheels got stuck in the threshold between the bathroom and the mistress's suite and Tonks had to help him move past the obstacle. He collapsed in a tufted crimson chair moments later, humiliated by his exhaustion. It was a distance of barely twenty feet and it had taken at least ten minutes to move from one room to the next.

Tonks hovered around him, placing a pillow behind his back and lifting his ankles onto a small pouf. The suite was nothing like how Remus remembered it, but Sirius had made many changes in the past few days.

"Good thing it doesn't smell like hippogriff dung in here anymore, huh?"

With a smile, Tonks cast the Summoning Charm on Remus's many potions. They flew in and landed messily on the table to his right. She reordered them quickly and folded up the zimmer frame to lean it against the wall. Remus's gaze wandered around the room; where there had once been an ancient, broken bed that served as Buckbeak's nest, Sirius had arranged crimson and gold furnishings, rivaling the coziness of the Gryffindor common room.

"They'll be here in a little while," Tonks said, surveying the new furniture. "This place could use more plants, don't you think?"

"That would be nice," Remus agreed absentmindedly. Tonks meandered into a side chamber, which had big windows that overlooked the square. In the corner, tucked almost out of eyesight, sat a dusty, half-covered wooden cradle.

Remus felt the frown forming on his lips at the sight of the cradle. They hadn't talked about much of anything in the last few days, as he was hardly awake for more than a couple hours at a time. With the two of them alone, he felt he needed to address the elephant in the room.

"This would be a lovely greenhouse—"

"Tonks?"

She whipped around, her eyes big and apprehensive. "Yes?"

Hesitating, Remus took in her appearance. "How, er . . . how are you?"

"Fine?" Tonks slowly walked back to meet him, unease etched on her face. "Are you . . . is everything okay?"

"I wanted to know how you were," said Remus, his eyes flickering back to the dusty cradle. "After you . . . you . . . "

Tonks's gaze trailed his. A soft "oh" followed.

"You don't need to worry about me."

Remus couldn't help but glance at Tonks's midsection; there would be no evidence of pregnancy this early, even if she hadn't terminated.

"You're not hurt?"

"No," she replied, inhaling slowly, "no, I'm not. Really, Remus, that's not what you should be worrying about. Focus on getting better for me, for you . . . for us."

"We haven't talked about everything yet—"

"We'll have time for that later." Tonks ambled up to him and pushed his fringe away from his forehead. "It's only been three days since we found you. You need rest."

Remus smothered a frustrated sigh. He kept being told 'not to worry' about anything, but it only increased his fear that something was terribly wrong. He was told to relax, rest, and heal; a whole war could've broken out in the last seventy-two hours and he wouldn't know it.

Nor was he convinced that he wasn't merely being humored. Given enough time and healing, Tonks would leave him.

"Please? I need . . ." Remus couldn't articulate what he needed. He didn't want to be treated like a child anymore. He wanted to have a frank, if difficult, discussion with Tonks. He felt in danger of having his heart shattered again; he'd be healed enough to be abandoned, but not enough to move on from the gloomy future that certainly awaited him.

Tonks's fingers rested on his temple. It made his heart throb with want and self-pity; even in his hideous, mortifying state, she could offer him affection. "Madam Pomfrey and Sirius say you're not ready," she murmured, her thumb tracing a gentle pattern on his skin. "You want to talk?"

"Not about everything," he replied, his mind bracing itself for what lay ahead, "I need to . . . explain myself."

Tonks toyed with her bottom lip and glanced back at the cradle. "Okay. I don't want to talk about the p-pregnancy yet, if that's all right?"

"Yes. I wanted to tell you about that night . . . when you left me. When I asked for Sirius to be my new guardian."

Tonks closed her eyes briefly and nodded. She stepped back from him, pulled another armchair closer, and sat, keeping their knees touching.

"I'm ready whenever you are."

"Right." Remus clasped his hands together and tried to keep his gaze steady. "Right, er. Let me . . . let me say everything first, please. I need to get this out."

Tonks leaned forward, as quiet and still as a statue.

"I didn't ask Sirius to be my guardian because I wanted to end our marriage," he confessed, watching Tonks's lips part slightly. "I did, in a way, because it would be better for you if we weren't married anymore. I love you, Dora . . . I love you too much to let you throw your life away on me. I had to give you the chance to let me go. I know you say you don't care about my condition, and you love me anyway. I want to believe you."

Remus's chin trembled, seeing Tonks's eyes glisten with unshed tears. He would never forgive himself for how much he hurt her.

"Don't you see that I can never be good for you? In the last year, your friends have distanced themselves from you. You lost a promotion. Your aunt tried to kill you, and I know you said it's because she always had it out for you, but I made it worse. I make everything worse. My parents' lives were never the same. My friends took risks. Dumbledore took risks . . . and you, you're full of life, you're beautiful and so young. You deserve better."

Quiet tears streamed down Tonks's cheeks; if he wasn't so injured, he would've tried wiping her tears away with his hand.

"I want so badly . . ." he said, taking a moment to fight back his own reaction, "I want to be the kind of man you deserve. I want it terribly, Dora. I've always hated being a werewolf, but it wasn't until you that I would've given anything, anything, to be the right man for you. I can't condemn you to a life with me. It's agony . . . worse than any transformation . . . but I had to let you go. I had to give you the chance to walk away. I couldn't—I can't—"

Tonks got up and wrapped her arms around him. With his face being held against her chest, Remus let a few tears fall, every part of him aching with want for the witch whose life he'd ruined.

"Stop, Remus." Tonks shuddered and squeezed him. "I won't let you do this to yourself."

"Wait," Remus gasped, using what little strength he had to push her away. "You don't understand."

"Then help me understand! Tell me why you think I can't make my own decisions! Why don't you believe me when I say I don't care? Why do you keep pushing me away when all I want is to love you?"

"Because I'm terrified you'll change your mind . . . and because you've made me happier than I've ever been. You are everything I've ever wanted." Remus breaths were coming out ragged and uneven, but he was determined to continue. "Because everyone leaves and nothing lasts for me . . . because one day the war will be over and life will still be hard for us."

"You're afraid of getting hurt," Tonks said softly. "You're afraid I'll hurt you."

Remus nodded weakly. "No one has ever given me what you do. Do you remember my birthday? You had gifts for me, those books I'd wanted for ages. You got me a cake. You ordered takeout from that Indian place we love. You were so good to me . . . so good. My friends used my birthday as opportunities to get in trouble or get drunk. But you . . . you made it all for me. As if . . ."

"As if I really loved you."

"Only my parents were like that . . . James was good about it, but not like you. Never like you."

"And when I left . . ." Tonks squeaked and put her hand over her mouth, letting out a small cry. "It's what you were expecting."

"I deserved it," Remus mumbled. "I was never going to be good enough for you. You had every right to—"

"I didn't listen to you. I couldn't even look at you," Tonks whispered. "I hadn't even considered . . . you were afraid of getting your heart broken and then I . . . I . . . is that why . . . did you . . . because of me?" She gasped and wheezed as she clutched his hand. Her tears came down harder than before, perplexing him, but when she let go, she started stammering an incoherent apology.

"Please don't blame yourself," Remus blurted, realizing where her thoughts were going. "If I'd been more honest, if I'd told you how I felt—I'm to blame." Without thinking about it, he raised his stronger hand to grip her waist, desperate to console her. "Tonks, Nymphadora—there are many reasons I did what I did. I don't blame you in the slightest."

Tonks stared down at the bruised hand on her waist, temporarily stunned by its presence.

"But I—"

"You didn't know," Remus insisted. "I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want you to feel guilty for leaving me. I don't want you to stay with me because you feel you have to. I want you to be happy. That's all I want for you. I—I'll manage."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a dog-shaped Patronus.

"On our way," said the Patronus, in Sirius's voice. "We've got enough food for a week."

"Fuck, not now," Tonks muttered, wiping the tears from her face. She looked down at Remus, her nose and cheeks pink, and took his chin in her hand. "I love you. I want to be with you because you make me happy. You make me happy. I wish you'd told me this before, and I want to keep talking, but I promise I'm not going anywhere, okay? Trust me, Remus. Trust that I love you for you. Please keep telling me what's on your mind. You're so good, if you would only let yourself be happy."

The retort on Remus's lips never came. There was a knock on the door, and Tonks shook her head, morphing away all the evidence of her recent distress. Sirius waltzed in a moment later with Harry and Ron at his side. Harry held an enormous wicker basket and Ron had a lumpy parcel under his arm. Neither boy would look at Remus directly.

"We're here," Sirius announced cheerfully, pushing the boys inside the room. "Molly and Andy sent us with loads of food."

Harry lifted the basket, glancing briefly at Remus, and sharply turned his head away. Ron's ears grew pink as he mumbled something about "getting better soon," tipping the parcel onto Remus's lap on his way to helping Harry set the basket down.

"Give your mother my thanks, Ron," Remus said, tugging at the wrappings. Ron mumbled a hasty "yes" and began setting up a chessboard.

"Do you need help opening—" Tonks offered, but Remus waved his limp hand. He struggled with the ribbon but managed to rip away the paper, revealing a cozy, hand-knitted jumper from Molly.

Tonks turned back to Remus, her wide eyes betraying her worry. "I'm going to sleep, if that's okay?"

"You need rest too. Sleep as long as you need."

Remus instinctually raised his hand, seeking her touch, and he was given it without hesitation. Sirius and the boys were laying out a feast, making Remus's mouth water. He hadn't had real food in ages.

Tonks leaned down and brought her hand up to cradle his face. "We'll talk more, I promise. I'm not leaving you—that's another promise. I'm just happy you're alive, okay? We can sort the rest out later. You are so loved, Remus. Please don't forget that."

Remus nodded and let Tonks rub her thumb over his cheekbone. He felt his ears burn when she pressed her lips against his for a quick, chaste kiss.

"Don't make too much noise," she said, stepping back from him, with the hint of a playful smile along her lips.

"Go to sleep, Tonks," Sirius said, waving her off. Tonks stuck her tongue out and slipped through the door to the bathroom, clunking away until the sound of her footsteps were dampened by the rug in the master's suite.

"Black or white?" Ron asked no one in particular.

"White," Sirius replied, tugging on Harry's sleeve. "We'll play two on two. Ron, you team up with Moony. Harry and I can take you on."

Remus almost felt pity for the clearly uncomfortable teenager, but as the match began, it turned out to be a good setup. Ron was an excellent chess player, allowing Remus to merely watch and nod along, while Harry and Sirius spoke quietly over their strategy.

After each team won a match, Sirius helped Remus with his potions and brought a plate full of warm food, giving them time to talk while Harry and Ron discussed Harry's plans for the Quidditch team.

"James would've been so proud," Remus commented, seeing Harry bent over a parchment, drawing strategies for practice.

"He's a natural." Sirius grinned happily. "He practices daily with Ginny and Ron. Between you and me—" Sirius lowered his voice. "—Harry's got a thing for her, Ginny. Looks at her the way Prongs looked at Lily."

Remus felt a wave of fond nostalgia. Harry looked so much like James; it seemed only right that he'd be smitten with a redhead.

"Hasn't said anything about it, mind you," Sirius continued, nodding at Harry. "You'll see. Give it a few weeks, maybe a few months. He's already off to a good start."

"And her?"

"Something about a boyfriend." Sirius shrugged. "It won't last. Harry's the one for her."

Remus almost snorted. It felt like they were in school again, speculating over James's prospects with Lily. Admittedly, Ginny's warm friendship with Harry was a better starting place than Lily's total animosity towards James.

"Ron won't mind?"

Sirius tilted his head back and forth. "He'll get over it. Better your best mate than a bloke you can't stand."

"What about you?" Remus asked. "Better with Kingsley?"

"He's working for it. I haven't forgiven him yet for tying me to that chair."

"It could've saved your life though."

"That's what Harry says." Sirius rolled his eyes and took a large bite of his pumpkin pasty. "Andy agrees with them."

Remus swallowed a well-chewed bite of chips. His throat was still scratchy but it felt good to eat solid food. He'd avoided discussing Andromeda till now; to his knowledge, she hadn't been among the people to see him in the last few days.

"How is she?" he ventured.

Sirius took a swig of pumpkin juice. "Worried about her daughter. I don't blame her. Tonks has barely seen her mum, but Andromeda understands. That is—she's glad you're all right. She's not ready to see you yet."

"I understand."

"Andy misses Ted. She's moved twice and had a lot of upheaval. It's doing her good to be out in the country, having us to 'take care of.'"

Remus yawned. He was growing tired and as his eyes drifted around, they landed back on the dusty, half-covered cradle.

"Was Tonks okay?" he asked quietly. "After she, er . . . terminated the, er . . .?"

A guarded expression came across Sirius's grey eyes. "Did you ask her?"

"She didn't want to talk about it—she said she's fine."

"If that's what she says," Sirius shrugged, looking away, as Remus yawned again. "Anyway, you shouldn't be worrying about those things. You've been up for a while, haven't you? Maybe it's time to rest."

Remus didn't like the way Sirius dismissed the topic. Tonks had done the same; was it possible she'd had a poor reaction? She had looked peakier, though perhaps that was her own exhaustion from caring for Remus. He'd have to ask her to send for Madam Pomfrey to give her some relief.

Another yawn came and Sirius gave Remus a patronizing smile. Rather than make Remus walk back to the master's suite, Sirius transfigured the bottom of the chair's legs to wheels. He wheeled Remus back to the master's suite, where Tonks was sitting up on the bed and sniffling.

"Oh—are you tired, love?"

"'M fine," Remus grunted, being helped out of the chair by Sirius.

"I haven't been able to sleep," Tonks said, shifting Remus back onto his pillows. "I like having you in bed with me."

Remus hummed at this, finding his eyelids were growing heavier by the second.

"He'll be out soon," he heard Sirius say. "I don't think he realizes those potions are supposed to make him sleepy. Poppy knows he won't rest if he's not forced."

"That's good," Tonks replied. Remus closed his eyes, hoping they'd think he'd already fallen asleep.

"Are you going to tell him soon?"

"About what?"

"That you didn't t—"

"Not yet," Tonks said sharply. "He's got enough on his mind."

"He's going to notice when you—you know."

"I know, I know. Just let me do it in my time. I'm not giving up on this."

"What if he doesn't want it?"

"He wants me to be happy."

"That doesn't answer the question, Tonks. He can want you to be happy and not want—"

"Shh," Tonks hissed. "Leave me alone. He'll find out soon enough."

Whatever was said after this was too quiet for Remus to hear. He fought against rest, desperate to hear what Tonks was keeping from him, but he succumbed to a profound sleep.